Chapter 1: Navigation Menu
Chapter Text
Hellaverse: ✝ Magne Inferno ⛧
Episode 1: As Above, So Bellow
[-]
Episode 2: The Angels Of Death
[-]
Episode 3: The Binding Of Charlie
[-]
Episode 4: Way Down The Rebel Path
[-]
Episode 5: ???
[-]
Episode 6: ???
Chapter 2: Episode 1: As Above, So Bellow
Summary:
"The best thing to do is to always follow your greatest desire." - Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV series)
Chapter Text
It’s finally here...the day that Lucifer Morningstar feared has finally come. Extermination day is nothing compared to what today is. Even "Banishment Day" for Lucifer was child's play.
"What's so scary about this day then?" Some sinners might ask their king.
And Lucifer would slaughter them for even daring to ask such a question. They would not understand...sinners will never understand that even fallen angels have fears. Yet the answer is simple: today is Charlie's last day at the Morningstar's compound after spending her entire childhood there.
...
Why did it come to this?
✝Magne Inferno⛧: Episode 1
Chapter 1: As Above, So Below
December 15, 2019, AD (16 days before the Extermination), 4:21 PM.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/The Pentagram City/Outskirts/The Morningstar's Compound
The King of Hell paced back and forth near Charlie's room, his patience running thin as he waited for his daughter. A few times, Lucifer pressed his ear against her door to overhear what she was doing. Some random words and, on some occasions, "Razzle/Dazzle, not here!" came from his daughter.
He would have entered the room already and helped her without any problem. However, Lucifer has recently avoided Charlie's presence like Beelzebub's plague. He could not bear to see her face, knowing she was leaving him. Lucifer was afraid this day would come sooner than he expected. In the fallen angel's mind, he thought, "One month is a long time.". But time is on God's side. He did not prepare for any of this. Now that it is finally here, he is paying the price for "lack of vision."
With Lilith being...somewhere, Lucifer was the only one who bore the fruit of the pain. It is odd how his "heart" beats in such rapid motion. He had never expected to be that nervous in his entire existence. The realization of the possibility that he could have been a bad father concerned him, but he was completely unsure. "Guilt" was a slippery slope for the King of Pride. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he kept remembering that specific moment he had with Uriel, particularly the question she posed to him:
"Lucifer, do you hate your father?"
Oh, Uriel. It was hilarious how your question sealed your brother's fate. All he desired were answers. All those years since that unfaithful day. Lucifer did not have a chance to know why. When the Almighty Holy Father announced his plans for the creation of Earth and Heaven. Lucifer's excitement rose like the Morning Star he was. Compare him now and back then: his excitement was like that of his daughter: so bright, so charming, so naive, and above all...foolish.
Lucifer continued to be that way for the entire time of God's creation, despite not knowing what his dad was doing. None of his siblings had any idea what their dad's project was all about. Nobody dared question why God was exhausting himself all of a sudden. Ironic, considering their dad loved criticism.
“Six days” passed before the "premier attraction" began: the creation of Adam, Lilith, and later, Eve. The news of their "birth" arrived in rapid motion for Lucifer. And oh, boy! These three raised some noise for the angels. The Morning Star expected to see Adam and Lilith as something of God's image: beautiful and majestic. But nope, none of that. They did not have any wings or the powers of angels...He admitted they were attractive, which is ironic considering Lilith would become his wife.
Yet he still felt odd about everything. Lucifer did not understand why his dad created the "lesser beings." Why not make them angels? What is the purpose? Why did God need them? All these questions, Lucifer himself addressed to his dad. And what did Lucifer get in return?
"Have patience, my son. Everything will make sense in the end."
And that was Lucifer's downfall. History has the tendency to repeat itself over and over. First, it was him. Now it's Charlie's turn...what got into her head?
This whole "redemption of sinners" project felt...laughable to him. As the prideful father that Lucifer is, he should be proud of Charlie for taking a big step towards fulfilling her dreams. But he can't tell if the idea of redemption is part of her "angelic side" or rather the (AHA, gotcha, father!) move for doing nothing on his part.
Charlie had witnessed the first years of annual exterminations by Heaven way back then. She got confused about how sudden it was. Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven coexisted peacefully for the most part. It was pretty obvious she was the one who asked him first what had happened.
But he dismissed her questions. Despite being a 200+ year old demon, Charlie is still not "prepared" for these topics. No need to pollute her mind with Heaven's shit. Yet Charlie sure as shit inherited a lot from him, stubbornness included. She would not let him slip with her silly questions. And so, their topics of "exterminations" developed into a cycle of:
- Her questions turned into more questions.
- More questions become a demand for an explanation.
- Demand for an explanation into a "Do something, dad!"
- "Do something, Dad!" finally to "Fine, I will find my solution!"
He laughed at it. He thought his daughter was overreacting to everything. Charlie's mind is full of rainbows, and no logic whatsoever, and it was easy to brush off considering where they dwelled. She has always done so and will continue to do so...
And she played him for a fool in the end.
A month ago, Charlie managed to convince Seviathan to sell his half-ownership of that rundown casino. It was a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one. Anything that leaves Leviathan's dynasty in shame is music to Lucifer's ears.
But Charlie did it.
She bought a fucking hotel!
All by herself!
Lucifer underestimated his little girl's abilities...and now he must pay for his foolishness.
"Always take too long," Lucifer mumbled. He tiptoed towards Charlie's door and knocked on it with his cane. He could have done it with his hand, but, oh well, he was too lazy to do that. "Charlie, my sweetie belle! I know I have the entirety of eternity to stand here, but could you please hurry up?!"
Lucifer, of course, lied on the last part. All he wanted was for Charlie to leave already. It would be easier for him to cope.
"Just a little more, Dad." The muffled voice replied through the wall.
Lucifer hummed in acknowledgment. But in all seriousness, how was he going to ease the tension? It fucking tickles his nerves.
"Wait a minute... of course!" Lucifer thought to himself. How could he not have realized this earlier? The King of Hell cleared his throat and sucked in fresh air. He then leaned closer to Charlie's door. "And make sure you have everything. The toothbrush as well; there's no reason to exist without it, my rosy sweetheart!"
"Dad!" Charlie groaned in playful protest. "Do you think I'm going to forget it?"
"What's wrong with me stating it? Here in Hell, one must keep his teeth in decent shape...especially the shark-like teeth." Lucifer shrugged, his mouth turning into a wide smile. To prove his point, he summoned a compact mirror to check his fangs. He smiled to see how bright and beautiful they were. "Take an example from your old timer here. How am I going to mock your Aunt Beelzebub the next time I see her?"
"Uhhh... inform her to take a bath?"
"... Nah, too obvious. You must think further, my dear.” Lucifer snickered. Credit where credit is due. At least Charlie's humor improved a bit.
"I don't know..." It was the only thing he had overheard from her before she became silent. Lucifer realized she had lost interest in their little game. And so he heaved a deep sigh and unsummoned his mirror.
Fatherdamn you, Charlie. Why must you make everything dreadful for your own "apple" daddy? The atmosphere at the moment felt like he was getting banished a second time. Eh, if Charlie knew how she blessed this forsaken old angel with her existence. Her birth was like a mortal fairy tale: many times he and Lilith tried...to no avail. They both knew it would not be possible, yet they tried. It was not fair that Leviathan had grandchildren. Even that raging fucker has his kid...though his "child" was a product of rape...but it still counted...allegedly.
And the things he had to do to conceive Charlie were shameful. He swore that he was going to see him again. He will rip and tear his primordial
Oh, right.
Lucifer struck his forehead as a new realization hit him. This whole "hotel" business made him completely forget about the promise he had made to Lilith way back then. Even before Lilith had to depart for a while, his wife kept nagging him about it for the entire month, and he still forgot about it. It was no secret that Lilith and Lucifer were cursed and unable to have children. It was a generous gift straight from Lucifer's father... Fucking prick!
And as Charlie was leaving, he created all these complicated feelings within him. It's best to tell her about some other things too. This would be a great time to tell her about him .
*The knob clicks.*
"Oh, shit!"
In a panic, Lucifer dropped his cane by accident. It was too late for him to catch it, so he had to improvise. Lucifer turned away from Charlie's door and stared at the wall, making sure she was none the wiser. He whistled some random tune to avoid raising suspicion.
Charlie's giggling and laughter could be heard before the door swung open. She was most likely entertained by the sight of Razzle and Dazzle, and their enthusiasm for wheeling the heaviest suitcases for their mistress was entertaining enough. Charlie then stopped as she detected her dad...who stared at the wall for some reason.
"Dad?"
Lucifer, in all his enthusiasm, turned to her, sporting a broad smile.
"Why HELLO there, Charlotte! Nice weather, isn't it?" He tried leaning against the end table, not intending to hit the vase, causing it to break on impact. "Whoops! How clumsy— "
He stopped when, all of a sudden, a literal "spirit" left the vase. The little beady eyes scanned the room, noticing Lucifer. Happy to be out of its prison, it shouted "FREEDOM" before it flew through the ceiling. The King of Hell raised his eyebrows at this. He did not remember forcing someone into the vase...you know what? That is not significant right now.
"How convenient! I completely forgot about it. Well, shit happens! By the way, do you know what that vase has in common with me?"
"Umm... clumsiness?"
"Nope, we're both fallen ... get it?" Lucifer laughed with a nervous tone in his voice.
"Riiiight..." Charlie nodded, although she was still confused by his earlier behavior. "But why were you staring at the wall, Dad?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Lucifer boasted. He raised his finger to jab at the specific patterns on the glowing wall, pride being his main sin. "This wall resembles my inner nature, my cupcake. Look at these red waves. It's like a burning passion I harbor for you and your mom."
"Okay...then why is your cane on the floor?" She pointed her finger at it.
"Because I-I-I was TESTING THE GRAVITY! There was a mortal guy who discovered gravity when an apple fell on him or some shit. He was mortal, and you could not trust mortals with apples...So, I had to investigate it myself!"
"But what it had to do—"
"Are you ready?" Lucifer halted her. He smiled once more with his shark-like teeth showing.
"Oh? Oh, right! Yeah, I'm ready." Charlie nodded, smiling back. She turned around for Lucifer to check her backpack. "I even have my old badges from school."
"Good...but are you sure you've prepared enough, my dear? Things might get ugly, you know." He nudged Charlie in a playful manner.
"Like what?"
"Like the sudden attack from Luci-Dad!"
Charlie didn't have a chance to ask as Lucifer began to relentlessly tickle her.
"Dad, S-TO-haha-PIT!" Charlie tried to resist, but she couldn't stop herself from laughing, with the occasions within the chaos pleading with him to stop. Razzle and Dazzle looked at each other with a worried expression, their tiny arms getting tired.
Lucifer then stopped and raised his hands in the air to proclaim the important lesson. "And that's why you must never open your defenses, Charlotte Morningstar!"
"And tickling me was necessary to prove to me that?" Charlie moaned in protest. She wanted more.
"Sugar, I'm Lucifer Bloody Morningstar. It is my part to mingle my fingers with others. Did you know me and Lilith— "
"I don't want to hear it, Dad. You've told me numerous times!" Charlie showed her palms as a signal to stop, not wanting to hear what her dad could do with his fingers to her mom...
"Sorry, pumpkin. I sometimes forget." Lucifer admitted it as his expression turned neutral. He felt as if he had wasted all his "dad" cards. He looked back to where the entrance to their compound was. With no ideas left, he finally accepted that it was over. "Well...no time to waste. Make sure you have everything you need."
Charlie gasped, realizing her clumsiness. "Oh, my dolphins, you're right, Pa! Could you please take my suitcase and help Razzle and Dazzle? I'm going to grab my bag!"
“Sure thing.” He took her suitcase.
"Thanks, Dad!" Charlie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and rushed back to the room, leaving her dad with Razzle and Dazzle. Lucifer then switched his attention to the two goats. When they saw Lucifer's grin at them, they made squeaking noises as a sign of help.
"Oh no, you don't, slackers! I created both of you to do Charlie's bidding...and speaking of which!"
The King of Hell tossed Charlie's suitcase on top of the heaviest ones. Poor Razzle and Dazzle squeaked more in protest.
"Prepared for trouble, and I made it double. Now chop-chop, and to the limousine you go!" He clapped his hands once and pointed his finger at the entrance.
The two reanimated dolls limped at a steady pace towards the entrance with as much energy as they had left. Lucifer hasn't followed them yet. He grabbed his cane and waited (with the patience of a king of hell) for the two dolls to leave first. Only then, in a slow manner, did he walk to the entrance.
With Lucifer, Razzle and Dazzle would make their way to their master's limousine. In the end, though, they both gave up, and Charlie's suitcases collapsed on them. At the same time, Charlie would arrive with another bag, only to gasp in fear.
"Dad, I kindly asked you to aid them!" Charlie called out in protest, rushing herself to help them.
"And I DID!" Lucifer exclaimed like a proud father, stopping near the toy plushies and his daughter. "But Razzle and Dazzle are the heroes that Hell doesn't deserve. To impress you, they begged me to give them my suitcase to prove they were the greatest servants. Isn't it right, boys?"
"Really?" Charlie knelt next to her toys. "You did all of it just to impress me?"
Razzle and Dazzle bit their lips in fear. Their creator put them in an uncomfortable position. They looked back at Lucifer, asking with their stares for permission to tell the truth. Lucifer, in response, tilted his head and gave them an "I'm going to cleave your heads off if you don't cooperate" glare. The message was clear. So, they nodded to Charlie with all the power they had.
"Awww...you're the best, Razzle and Dazzle!" Charlie gave them a sincere hug. As a bonus for "heroism," she reached for her backpack to give them her baked cupcakes. It's pretty obvious that Razzle and Dazzle ate them in seconds...hungry little boys.
Meanwhile, one of Lucifer's guards finished the examination of the limo, making sure that it wasn't a...death trip for the princess. Precautions must be made, especially as these...wretched fucks in other afterlives could have done something stupid for Lucifer and his...sister.
"Everything is ready, my lady."
"Right...thanks, knight." Charlie stood on her feet and glared at her dad. "So... I guess this is it then?"
"It would seem so..." Lucifer smiled, although he could feel himself cracking.
They both stood there, staring at each other, with no one daring to say anything first. Before this, Lucifer wanted to get rid of her, and now he stretches the time for the sake of her staying here longer. Both Razzle and Dazzle felt their presence was not required and went to take the rest of Charlie to pack them into the limo. Sometimes they needed to leave Charlie alone...and this was one of those moments.
"Was it... was it like this when you were banished?" Her lips quivered as reality settled in. She didn’t know when it would be the last time she’d see her dad.
"More or less. Didn't have the time to say proper goodbyes..." Lucifer gave a little shrug at the end.
Charlie nodded without saying anything further about it. A brief pause followed before she heaved a deep sigh. "I know we have been fighting a lot...But I will still miss you."
Lucifer did give a nod before laying his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "There is one more thing I want to do before you leave. But first, close your eyes, hon."
Charlie obliged and closed her eyes. She could hear her dad summoning something, which sparked her interest.
"Now open them." His voice sounded as smooth as ever. She opened her eyes and gasped when she saw her dad's genuine surprise. Lucifer held a red-colored tuxedo jacket, one of the tuxedos he used to wear back in the 1800s.
"But that's yours, Dad..." Charlie whispered a weak objection. Her face reddened as tears started to trail down her cheeks.
"And now I gave it to you..." He replied with a rare, soft smile. Lucifer then gestured to turn her around, and Charlie did not hesitate. Her father pulled his tuxedo over her, his hands lingering for a moment as he soaked it all in. He turned her back to him and completely buttoned all the buttons.
"Fits you perfectly, my Morningstar..." He corrected her bow tie and laid his hands on her shoulders. Finally, the King of Hell embraced his daughter with all his passion.
Charlie held on almost all day, trying to think only about her hotel project. Yet she never thought her dad would be capable of piercing her heart. And it broke her. Charlie cried against his neck, sobbing in a few instances, holding him tight. He caressed her back to try to soothe her, but to no avail. Lucifer, on the other side, remained calm. But even he sat at the edge. They needed to finish soon.
Lucifer let go of her completely, much to Charlie's dismay. He moved and flung open the door of the limousine, gesturing for her to take a seat. Charlie now grasped and understood her dad's actions, so she did not object. She made her way to the limousine as slowly as she could, stopping to give one final glare at her dad.
"I love you."
Lucifer opened his mouth to leave out his goodbye speech...only to close it right after. He still decided to at least say goodbye in a more professional manner.
"Goodbye, Charlotte. And remember: don't take shit from other demons. Just as I taught you." He closed the door and walked to the front, where the two reanimated toys were waiting. Razzle is on the pedal while Dazzle is on the steering wheel, making his brain wonder for a moment. How is it possible for them to drive a vehicle in the first place?
"You know the drill, you two. Take them to the Happy Casino...and drive safe."
Lucifer backed off and returned to where Charlie is. He raised his hand as a sign of a final goodbye. Charlie barely managed to return it as the Morningstar Guards opened the main gates, with the limousine moving towards the opening. Passing it, the limousine turned left and disappeared from Lucifer's field of vision.
It was over.
He stood there, not moving an inch, for a long moment when they left. Only the mild breeze played with his coat as he stared at the main gate. The King of Hell finally lost the fight with his inner demon. He shed a single tear, which trailed down his cheek, evidence of the pain dwelling. The damned first tear since his banishment.
Lucifer wiped his tears and took a careful glance at his wet finger...he remembered everything.
"Your crimes against Adam and Eve will go unpunished, my son. I'm sorry...but you must leave."
Lucifer's expression tightened, then turned into full anger as he understood the irony:
Charlie questioned her dad.
Like Lucifer questioned his dad.
They both left their homes because of this.
But Lucifer never was clouded.
But Charlie?
Lucifer's own father did it to her!
Lucifer returned to the Morningstar Mansion and marched up to the second floor. Making his way through a small corridor, he made it straight into his bedroom. He flung the balcony doors open in fury and stopped at the edge, looking up to the sky in rage.
"YOU!" He pointed his finger at a distant planet with a halo on it. "I know you can hear me, so don't even try to ignore me! Charlie was the only soul I loved here in Hell. And you, by your influence, trashed her mind with your "salvation" bullshit!" Lucifer then took a breath for a second. "I hope you're so damn happy you took my wife, and now you're leaving your granddaughter to fend for herself! So, fuck you, you pathetic old sack of shit! Hope my mom divorces your fucking nonexistent ass!"
His rant ended with him kicking the beach chair. Lucifer inhaled and exhaled as he stared into Heaven. Nothing happened...
Fucking Dad! Lucifer should have known. He should have known he would "intervene"...he should have been stricter with Charlie. It is a good thing her idea will fail. There is no way it will succeed...we are all damned for eternity...and that's the end of it....
"I need to take my mind off this shit." Lucifer stroked his forehead, thinking of something that might keep him occupied.
...
Scotch.
Lucifer smiled as brightly as the sun as he thought about his alcohol. Forgetting about everything, he left his bedroom and went back to the first floor, whistling the Levan Polka tune. After passing through the living room, Lucifer entered the kitchen. Surveying the surroundings, he spotted the specific cabinet he'd been looking for.
"Here you are, my beauty!" He stroked the surface of the cabinet. It was one of his special cabinets. It contained a variety of alcoholic beverages from all over hell, ranging from the Pentagram to Pandemonium and even good old Limbo.
Giggling, Lucifer opened the door, and his mouth dropped to the floor. One of his favorite whiskeys from Caïna is missing. Vampire demons were well known in Hell for having the BEST alcohol. Losing them was like losing your child...or, in other words, SOMEONE STOLE HIS SCOTCH!
"Wait a minute!" Lucifer put his hand to his forehead, considering his options. If Charlie didn't drink, and Lilith didn't care about his liver...
Of course...
"Oh, you little wretched snake!" Lucifer cursed, now realizing the truth. He then returned to the living room, checking every corner to find him. In one instance, he found a small box labeled "Do Not Disturb." It was a jackpot for the King.
"COMFORTABLE ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" Lucifer kicked the box, a comment directed at it.
"THE FUCK!" a high-pitched voice emitted inside the box. Then a snake's head emerged from a hole in a box. He looked up and frowned at Lucifer. "Always nice to see your gloomy face, dear brother. What the fuck do you want?"
"You stole the liquor from me, you sack of shit! And judging by how the garden is still not tended, I guess you had a damn hard job today!"
"It's septicemia..." Snake panicked, stuttering very much. "If I overdo it, I get a relapse. It's very serious—"
"Get out of the box!"
"Oh, you can be so testy." Serpent then grinned. "What now, Helel? Constipation?"
With his eerie gait, Lucifer walked over and leaned closer to the Serpent's face. "Guess you're my proof I will never outrun my sins."
"Oh! You have become sanctimonious in old age." Serpent deviated away from Lucifer's face. "No wonder Charlie left you; it's like rooming with Dante’s Inferno Lucifer."
Without saying anything, Lucifer smacked Serpent across the head for comparing him to that jerk.
"All right, all right!" Serpent finally got the memo. The snake opened his box and picked up Caïna's scotch with his tail. Lucifer took it away, proclaiming, "Thank you!" before he made his way to the couch and collapsed, sinking into it. He opened the bottle of whiskey and poured it into his cup.
Even in the form of a snake, Serpent understood his brother's sour mood. Bidding a farewell to your daughter was a serious thing, even if you weren't happy with what she was doing. Lucifer needed a little comfort. Thus, Serpent crawled towards Lilith's chair, climbing on top of it and curling almost into a ball.
"OK, tell me; what in Hell's name is wrong with you?"
"Fuck off, Serpent.". Lucifer growled back as he took a sip of his cup.
Serpent rolled his eyes. There he goes again...grumpy old Angel.
"Do you believe in redemption, Lucifer Morningstar? Because I hope and pray to our daddy that one day I will return as a cherub so that me and Charlie can laugh at you."
"Not you too...There goes another "supporter" of her stupid idea." Lucifer grumbled.
"You, Morningstars, have always pulled the impossible, Helel. 2/3 Angels would agree with me. "
"Oh, please. I had a legitimate reason when it happened. Charlie would never pull the same card. Redemption is a children's fairy tale created by stupid sinners."
"But unlike you, Charlie gets shit done. I mean, she bought this casino with her own money! At the same time, all you did was sit on your pathetic ass in a chair, complaining about how everything is not playing by your rules."
Lucifer was about to take another sip but paused. He looked at him in confusion when he heard the Serpent's last remark.
"What's your point, Serpent?" He asked. He then took another shot of whiskey.
"All I'm saying is be damn proud of your daughter. The girl has a dream. As for you, ever since you got kicked out, you only whine, whine, and whine. If Lilith did not marry you, I could not imagine what would become of you."
Lucifer lowered his eyes, glaring at his empty cup. Even if Serpent is a "parasite" in the Morningstar Family. He is still very useful in his useless way. But he is right. If it were not for Lilith, he would never even become the prideful King of Hell. Who knows what would happen? He would have been cast out by "him" for the sake of other loyal kings of Hell.
Or worse...
"Look at me, Lucifer." The green snake crawled to the table so that Lucifer could see him face-to-face...or, in this case, face-to-snout. "You don't hear me bitching about how our dad turned me into a snake."
"That's because you're busy making excuses for me not to turn you into a purse." Lucifer pointed this out in a sarcastic remark.
"I'm sick, Lucifer. It's septicemia... It's a slow and painful death, my brother."
"Evidently...and you're a compulsive liar." Lucifer released a breath in annoyance. Serpent is still a bad liar to this day. No wonder he turned into a snake so easily.
"Well, my dad told me I'm a "special snake" in this line of work." Serpent showed some humiliation in his tone. Lucifer chuckled at that comment. It's a good thing for the Serpent now that Lucifer is cheering up.
"Yeah..." He nodded slowly. Now that Green snake mentioned, it made him curious. "You never exactly told me what happened after Lilith and I lied to you about the apple."
"Nothing special," Serpent said, waving him off in dismissal. "Michael grabbed my throat and dragged me into the Empyrean Palace to our father. Dad asked, "Why were Helel and Lilith in the Garden?" and I replied, "It's free real estate, Dad." ...and turned me into what you see now."
"That's our pa." Lucifer raised his cup, cursing his name in a quiet tone.
"Yeah...our mom is on another side, though. It's been eons, and still I miss her... every damn day, Helel."
"Yeah, me too," Lucifer admitted as well. He himself could never forget her face...he could never, in all his existence, hate or resent someone like her.
The green snake looked at Lucifer, lost in his thoughts. He trailed his eyes over the empty cup and got quite an idea.
"You know what?" Serpent crawled closer, gaining Lucifer's attention. "How about we celebrate our girl's departure by opening the bottle of the strongest alcohol? Even if you do not agree with Charlie's project, we could at least celebrate her becoming a woman."
"We should not; I promised my wife that I wouldn't drink too much. It's a fate worse than death to piss off Lilith."
"Oh, please! She is only here every two times per year. Plus, you're the patriarch of the Morningstar Family. Just one bottle would not hurt anybody!"
Lucifer hummed to himself, considering the snake's offer further. He can admit it's a tempting idea. Oh, for fuck's sake. The word "tempted" is inappropriate due to the whole "Garden of Eden" fiasco that Serpent caused. But as for alcohol...
"...You got the point. All right, fine!"
Lucifer raised himself and went to the kitchen. A few minutes flew by, and the King would come back with the drinks from the Envy Ring and an (unfortunate) cup for Serpent.
"Huh, I never thought you loved Leviathan's stuff." Serpent commented in slight surprise, although nevertheless eager for it.
"I don't. But it's one of the strongest whiskies around Hell." Lucifer placed the whiskey and cup on the table. The king opened the bottle and poured it for him and Serpent.
"So..." Serpent wrapped his tail around the cup and raised it with pride. "A TOAST TO OUR FUTURE QUEEN OF ENTIRE HELL, CHARLOTTE MORNIGSTAR. BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS!"
"For they shall be called the children of God." Lucifer raised his cup and played along. He did not mind, as these words are meaningless. Just some religious mortals came up with some fancy, bloody quotes.
They took a long sip and drank the whole cup to the bottom, ending with a dramatic cup slam on the table.
"Oh, my father. This is some strong shit." Serpent commented; he coughed a bit from the savory taste.
"Leviathan sure knows how to make everything salty." Even Lucifer acknowledged that.
They would stare at their cups for a few minutes before they shifted their eyes toward each other. Serpent grinned, knowing Lucifer wanted it too.
"Another round?"
"Eh...fine!" Lucifer shrugged. He poured again, and they drank to the bottom with no problem.
"How about another?"
"Ugh...fine!"
They drank the third round.
"Another?"
"Hit me!"
It was Serpent who poured the fourth round for them both, then the fifth and the sixth... and only after the seventh was the whiskey bottle empty.
"Fuck, we're out of booze. WE'RE OUT OF THE BOOZE!" Serpent screamed.
"NEVER FEAR, LUCI-DAN HAS A SOLUTION!" Lucifer slapped his knees and raised himself, almost falling to the table like a drunk fool. But he made his way to the kitchen, grabbing as much alcohol as he could. And so it ensued once more.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/The Pentagram City/Outskirts/ Somewhere not far away from the Morningstar's Compound
"NO AND NO! For the last time, Leviathan. I'm not going to pay compensation to your family. Seviathan brought it to himself for hurting my Charlie!" Lilith snapped, gripping her hellphone in a vice grip so that he could feel her anger.
The sea monster from the depths of Envy's Ring growled in disappointment.
"Lilith, you should understand that I value my grandson as much as your Charlie. But I will not tolerate her hurting my boy in any capacity. "
"Ahh, so it's her fault now?!" Lilith questioned in rage, furious at such a transfer of arrows to her daughter.
"Why, of course. She was the one who broke our union in the first place, wasn't she? You don't have many "loyalists" in the Stygian Council. Best for you to stick with the Von Eldrich's support."
"And what exactly do you want, Leviathan? Make Charlie fall to his knees; give him a blowjob or something? " Lilith, of course, made a sarcastic remark. Knowing his family, she wasn't surprised if that was the case.
"All I want is one million souls in compensation for losing half of Happy Casino's ownership." Leviathan rolled his eyes. Pride in that woman is a curse for all of Hell. "I could invite your family to my underwater city...as a token of appreciation, Lilith."
"I'm afraid to break it for you, fish boy, but I'm not going to do it! I am the Queen of Hell, and I—
"I don't care who you are, Lilith. I have the full right to uphold my own ideas and beliefs. And it would be a shame if I had to tell the rest of Hell that YOU have been rather... cordial with our old enemies."
There was a short pause as Lilith's face tightened with horror.
"You are bluffing, Leviathan." The Queen challenged back.
"Don't be afraid, my dear. I understand the cost of the deal in the end. Family comes first, after all. That's why I have no intention to reveal your own schemes." The sea monster snickered in delight, hearing her fear. "I hope you understand you have no loyal allies in the Stygian Council. Satan himself hates your guts, and the Von Eldritch family is the only thing that keeps your position as "Rulers of Hell" safe."
Leviathan then sat down in his office chair, relaxing on it.
"My offer still stands: give one million souls to my grandchildren, and I will close my eyes to Charlie's misdeeds. As for now, do whatever you want. But know this: It would be a shame to lose your pretty face when Sera will turn her back against you and our mutual dad will rain fire on us during Judgement Day. Until then...have a lovely day in Heaven, parasite. "
Leviathan Von Eldritch was the first to hang up their call. Lilith growled as she wanted to tell him everything, her thoughts growing darker thinking of him. She put her phone down on the limo couch and stared out the window in frustration. Now it is raining in the Pentagram—a rare phenomenon indeed, but desirable.
This day could not get any worse. First Charlie's departure, now this. At least, for the most part, it was finally over. As Extermination Day crept in closer and closer, it was only a matter of time before Lilith could come back to Hell. Her throat was still sore from lack of proper wine... But some Hellish counterpart will fix this in a jiffy.
*Ring*
"What now..." Lilith growled. She didn't have the time nor the politeness to deal with some random schmuck. All she wanted was to be left alone to drink her troubles away. But as Queen of Hell, she had to cope with it. And so she grabbed her phone and accepted the call.
"Queen of Hell is listening." Lilith responded, bored and uninterested in continuing the conversation.
"Lilith! my αγαπημένη βασίλισσα! Long time no speak, eh?!" The female voice on the phone spoke with a Hellenic/Egyptian accent.
Lilith gasped, recognizing the voice of an old friend. "Oh, indeed. It's been so long, my dear Cleopatra! How are you, my seducing queen of the Nile?"
"I'm good, darling! Sorry for the music in the background. Asmodai Goetia recently arrived and threw another party here in Pride Ring, and I'm down there, just looking pretty."
"I thought he never ended his parties." Lilith checked her nails for a second.
"I know, right?" Cleopatra took a moment to take a cocktail and drink it before adding further. "But the thing is, he takes a one-minute nap before he gets up and starts partying. You should visit here sometimes, Lilith. We miss the good old days with you!"
"Thanks for the offer." Lilith smiled. "But I'm rather busy with...you know...running Hell."
Cleopatra let out a disappointed sigh. "Shame! You would have ignited the dance floor, my dear. Anyway, I'm sorry if I'm bothering you right now. I just wanted to congratulate you, Lilith! Charlie grew so quickly, didn't she? From a baby girl into a woman. Feels like it's still 1800 AD."
"Thanks...dearie." Lilith replied in a warm tone, although worry still lingered in her voice.
"I'm so proud of you, my Hathor incarnate! It's difficult to bear and care for children, let alone how unpredictable how they are as they grow up."
"You don't say. My sister from the Eden family experienced the worst of it."
"So I heard the stories..." Cleopatra nodded, giggling. The Queen of Nile then snapped her fingers as she remembered something. "Say! You don't mind me asking, does Overlord Valentino ever come into the meetings?"
"No, as far as I know. What, you want to kill him or something?" Lilith joked.
"Goodness gracious! Of course not, my queen. As Asmodeus's representative for his interests, I must maintain drug trafficking in the Pride Ring. Recently, his employee had been messing up business. So that is why I am sending some shark goons to deal with the problem. Oh, by any chance, have you tasted the "Angel Dust" drug I created?"
"I don't do drugs, dear. Bad for parenting." The queen smirked.
"Eh, just asking. Anyway, I will not bother you anymore. Give smooches to your husband and his little daughter from me. Αντίο, Lilith!"
"You too, Cleo!" Lilith hung up the call. Well, the day wasn't as bad as she thought. It's nice to hear Cleopatra's voice now and then.
Women like Cleopatra, Rosie, Carmilla, Velvet, Vaggie, and the queen herself were rare occurrences in hell. It was a shame, really. Lilith has different views compared to the rest of the crowd on what system she wants to use for Hell. She saw herself as a demon who believed in turning Hell into a "chaotic yet progressive" afterlife. Making everyone equal in layman's terms. Adam's behavior in Eden was enough for her to see the problem, and she didn't need a repeat of that in her kingdom.
Yet it saddened her. Hell was a complicated mess: a nightmare confederation of many semi-independent duchies, counties, and rings themselves. Nobody listened to her. They feared her but never listened. Leviathan was a fitting example. To be honest, he’s a bit of a prime example. A king who got jealous of their dad's creation of heaven, and thus he created his own "capitalist utopia" in the depths of the Envy Ring.
"My lady, we're arriving home!" Her imp driver called out, steering the limo to the Morningstar Compound entrance.
Lilith sighed in relief. All she needed was her husband's embrace, a few cigarettes, and all the alcohol she could drink. Her own slice of REAL paradise awaited her through the doors of her mansion.
The imp driver honked. The Morningstar Guards opened the gate and gestured for them to drive. The limousine drove past the gates and stopped near the mansion's entrance. The muscular man left the limo, grabbing the umbrella, and opened the limo's door for the queen, giving her the umbrella.
"You may park the limo, Servant." Lilith commanded, and with no rush, she walked to the main doors. She expected her husband to meet her, considering she sent a message when she would return. Well, it was raining, so she didn't mind it.
While searching for keys in her purse, she listened to her surroundings and noticed the loud polka music and some cheering coming from inside the house. Maybe Lucifer was watching the Pentagram-Imp City football match. It wasn't normal for him to be this loud. Finding her keys and opening the door, she ventured inside the mansion.
"Honey, guess who is back?! I'm home!" She cried out. Lilith then laid her purse down and waited for him to come. Only to hear the loud crash of a vase not that far away.
"OH, YOU LITTLE BITCH! Come hiccup here!"
"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, YOU MISERABLE ANGEL!"
"Huh?" Lilith murmured to herself in confusion. She walked over to the living room to see what was going on. "Apple pie, I heard the com—WHAT IN THE DEVIL'S BALLS IS GOING ON?!"
Lilith could not believe what she saw. Her beloved husband was chasing a snake through the living room like a child. Was this how Lucifer coped with Charlie's departure? By becoming the new "Charlie 2.0"?
The King noticed her and raised his hands in excitement. "Eve, my dear wife! You finally came after so much time had passed... Oh, you're so beautiful when you're wet!"
"I'm Lilith, you dumbfuck!" She snarled, crossing her arms. Lucifer blinked twice, not understanding what she meant.
"What's the difference!?" He shrugged, the alcohol evident in his system. "Eve, Lilith...same hiccup apples anyway...now let me taste your apples, dear." He mimicked the tickling noise as he got closer to her. She did not have a chance to say anything when Lucifer face-planted on her breast, making the motorboat sound.
"DRUNKEN IDIOT!" Lilith pushed him away and slapped it right into his cheek. The drunken king stumbled back a bit, shocked by her strength. He looked back at Serpent, who was poking his head under the couch. Smiles formed before they burst into laughter.
"Not a day has passed since Charlie left, and you've degraded into this! WHAT THE FUCK, Lucifer?!"
"Oh, you know... we decided to celebrate... nd... how much did we drank, Serpent?"
"Ughhh...." The drunken snake groaned, scratching his head with his tail. "69...no wait... That's a sex position... um... 5?...12?...What comes after 13, Helel?"
"16...I think," Lucifer replied in full confidence.
"Oh, right. It's 25, Lilith." Serpent nodded in all power.
Lilith slapped herself, so close to losing her patience. They were drunk enough to not know how to count.
"Alright, you miserable idiots!" She released her breath and looked at them with full anger. "I expect both of you—"
"UNHOLY!" Serpent let out a hissy shriek when he realized Lucifer's gramophone had started to play the famous Finnish polka. "Luci, it's your jam! Let's us Siiii —hiccup—ng!"
"Yes, sir!" Lucifer gave a drunken salute.
"NO, DON'T!" Lilith demanded not to sing, but it was too late.
The Heavenly Polka
By Lucifer Morningstar and Serpent.
Lucifer's singing: normal text
Serpent's singing: italic text
Lucifer and Serpent in unison: Italic Bold Text
"The land of Heaven is only a beautiful memory."
"but the music still sounds from the heart,"
"when the musician's fingers let you hear,"
"The Heavenly Polka!"
"That polka brings past times to mind."
"And creates a strange longing in the chest."
"Hey, musician, let the accordion play."
"the Heavenly Polka!"
"It takes the angels and the snakes to dancing."
"Nothing compares to that polka!"
"With it, even living without a roof is"
"the Heavenly Polka!"
"It has the rippling of the waves."
"it has the flavor of the pine trees."
"Heaven sounds—everybody knows it—"
"the Heavenly Polka!"
"ENOUGH!" Lilith demanded, storming right into Lucifer's face. "You, mister, have had enough. Go to the bed or face-"
"SING WITH US, LILITH!" Lucifer grabbed her hands and pulled her closer, gripping her waist so that she could not escape. He made her dance to the rhythm of the song.
[Chorus]
"Come, come, Lilith, dance with me now."
"When the polka jingles so delicately."
"Hi! Let Sera lament and clench her teeth.
"when we have larger freedom!"
"LET ME GO!" Lilith screamed as Lucifer spun her in their dance.
"Come, come, wife, dance with me now."
"when we have joy and summery weather!"
Lucifer let go of Lilith with a spin, causing her to crash against the display's cases with a loud crash.
"We have lost our Lilith."
"but we still have the polka left!"
"When the dearest angels have been left behind,"
"a snake in a foreign place finds solace,"
"when listening to wistful music:"
"the Heavenly Polka!"
"It is the only polka, but the kind,"
"That leads to the path of memories."
"The sound of the beautiful Heaven is:"
the Heavenly Polka!
"It takes the angels and the snakes to dancing."
"Nothing compares to that polka!"
"With it, even living without a roof is"
the Heavenly Polka!
"It has the rippling of the waves."
"it has the flavor of the pine trees."
"Heaven sounds—everybody knows it—"
"the Heavenly Polka!"
Serpent jumped at Lucifer's hands, wrapping his long body around them to improvise as they danced together.
[Chorus]
"Come, come, brother, dance with me now."
"when the polka jingles so delicately."
"Hi! Let Sera lament and clench her teeth.
"when we have larger freedom!"
"Come, come, Serpent, dance with me now!"
"when we have joy and summery weather!"
"We have lost Charlie."
"But we still have the polka left!"
Finishing the song, Lucifer and Serpent collapsed to the floor, laughing their asses off. None of them expected them to sing the whole fucking song together. As for Lilith...livid wasn't even the word to start with for Lilith.
Lucifer looked up and saw his wife had turned pale; her nails were as sharp as claws, and her horns were sharper than before. She raised her finger and pointed it at him in a dramatic motion.
"Lucifer Morningstar, I command you to get up —RIGHT NOW!"
At her last word, Lilith completely transformed into her full demon form. The Eden's Snake screamed in horror and crawled under the sofa in fear of the woman's anger. On the contrary, Lucifer only smiled at it.
"Oh, you're so much prettier when you're angry."
Not giving a single thought to that, Lilith grabbed Lucifer by the ear and forced him to stand up, dragging him out of the living room.
"What the fuck are you doing, woman?"
"Sobering you up!" Lilith shouted as she took him out into the courtyard and straight to the fountain.
Lilith then grabbed her husband's hair and pushed his head straight into the freezing water of the fountain. It was only after at least 5 seconds that Lucifer realized that she was drowning him. So, he yelled for help, trying to beat off her hands. Lilith took it he was sober and pulled his head out of the fountain. He gasped and coughed from the water.
"Honey...I never thought you were into this!" Lucifer took the chance to make a silly joke.
"Wrong response!" Lilith plunged his head into the cold water again. If Lucifer kept up with his bullshit, rest assured, they would be here all night. But after a few instances, Lucifer got the memo.
"Okay! OKAY! ENOUGH!" He begged.
This time, Lilith let go of him and returned to her normal form. Her anger is still present, that is. Her husband wiped the drops from his face and raised a finger at her.
"How fucking dare you! I am Lucifer Morningstar, the King of...” Lucifer stopped when he felt nauseous. "King of... crap... I don't feel well..." In the end, he vomited straight onto his boots, forcing Lilith to back off a bit. "Damn you, Serpent. You are a piece of shi- ugh..."
Lucifer didn't have a chance to finish when he collapsed on the floor unconscious. Lilith did not even flinch from his impact. She knew he had passed out. It wasn't the first time he had gotten drunk and exhausted himself up to this point.
"For my sake, Lucifer..." Lilith shook her head in disappointment. But to add more salt to the wound, she approached and kneeled in front of her unconscious husband. "The King of the Outhouse is what you are, Morning Star. Good night, my dear."
She kissed her fingers and pressed them to Lucifer's cheek before returning inside. Lilith left him lying outside while the rain was still pouring. She could've given him a worse punishment, fitting for him...but she still loved that idiot no matter what.
And once again, Lilith found herself in the early days of their marriage.
...
Maybe she should have stayed in Heaven for this year...
Chapter 3: In The Land Of Ninth Ring, Where The Shadows Lie...
Summary:
"Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep..." ― John Milton, Paradise Lost
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
December 16, 2019 AD (15 days before the Extermination), 9.21 AM.
The Pentagram City's outskirts, The Morningstar Compound
Pain...so good to see you again, old friend...
Lucifer woke up with no memory of what happened yesterday. He felt dizzy as he raised his head, groaning quietly. Damn! The headache was unbearable. Lucifer had not felt this way since his brother Michael had stabbed him right in the stomach. At least it left an attractive scar for Lilith...and It's a good thing he only felt it for a few days before it faded into obscurity... and then came back to haunt him.
Composing himself, Lucifer opened his eyes and examined his surroundings...that's odd. Why is he outside? Why are his clothes all damp? Seriously, what the Hell happened?
And then it hit him...again.
Serpent!
Fatherdamn that little wretched snake! He should not have fallen into Serpent's temptations. Now, he understood why the mortals referred to Serpent as "The Tempter ''...he still lived up to that name.
"Ah, look who’s finally awake!" A voice came from behind.
Lucifer looked back; his expression dropped into guilt instantly when he laid his eyes on her. His darling Lilith was here, having her breakfast on the picnic table. There was also the Royal Chef as well, grilling the pancakes for the Morningstar family.
"Lilith..." Lucifer made a short pause before he added further. "What did I do last night?"
"Good question!" She gazed at him for a second, before checking her Hellphone. "What did you do , my love?"
Lucifer sighed, recognizing her manners. That is Lilith's way of showing "I'm pissed at you". Lucifer knows it, even if sometimes he does not want it. A pissed off Lilith was something to be feared from the lowest sinner to her husband himself...as mortals always say: Hell truly hath no fury like a woman scorned.
The King of Hell snapped his fingers to dry his clothes and managed to raise himself on the feet with some hiccups here and there. He made his way to the Picnic table, taking a free chair near Lilith.
"Any reason why I woke up outside?" He then rested his right elbow on the table.
"Another good question, dear..." A little smirk formed on her lips. She should have taken pictures...but it was too cruel.
"Will you please stop with the riddles? You're not Azazel." Lucifer objected, growing tired of her little games.
Lilith dropped the knife and fork, losing her appetite thanks to her prideful husband. She then moved her plate to the left and laid her arms on the table. He tilted her head with a wicked frown before declaring everything she feels on him right now.
"I'm greatly disappointed in you, Lucifer Morningstar. The first thing I see after coming back is you drinking your entire alcohol collection, smashing the vase, trying to harass my dignity, and then crashing me into Charlie's display case of her school diplomas. All in the span of the evening, mind you. What got into you?!"
"Aw, come on! It's meant to celebrate Charlie's departure!"
"By drinking?" Lilith exclaimed at that; she then toned her voice down. "Our Daughter left us and the first thing that comes to your mind is to get drunk!? Are you out of your mind!"
"Well...why the Hell not." Lucifer shrugged. He is also not pleased to hear of Lilith's own hypocrisy. "At least I have some decency to say goodbye to her when she finally left us! I admit I went too far but it doesn't make you right in any way!"
"High with Pride, my dear?" Lilith passively-aggressively grumbled.
"WHAT SHOULD I HAVE DONE THEN, LILITH!?" Lucifer slammed his hand against the table, finally losing his temper. "I WATCHED AS SHE LEFT US FOR SOME "REDEMPTION" BULLSHIT! YOU ON OTHER HAND SLIPPED AWAY FOR 7 YEARS, NOT EVEN BOTHERING TO SAY GOODBYE TO HER!"
Lucifer then stopped; he breathed quietly as he stared at Lilith's shocked expression. Even the Royal Chef looked back to see what was going on, only to not interfere but to bring a pancake plate for his King.
"Your breakfast, sire." The Servant laid the knife and fork.
"Thanks...and bring some unholy water for me."
"Of course," Chef nodded before he went back to the mansion. The King of Hell shifted his eyes back on his wife's face. Lilith stared at him back, silently. Lucifer could see his wife took it rather...deep. It made him realize he took it pretty harshly.
"I'm sorry, Apple-pie," Lucifer gently lowered his eyes. "I'm so sorry about the whole mess..."
"You're not the only one." Lilith nodded, admitting her failures. "I'm sorry too, my darling. I should have said goodbye to Charlie back then...Y-you know it yourself how much I had to sacrifice..."
"No need to tell, Lilith." Lucifer nodded in sympathy. He can thank Adam for that.
To solidify their acknowledgment that they are "bad" parents, Lilith offered her hand to him as a sign of peace. Lucifer smiled and shook her hand, ending it with a small kiss on her wedding ring. It was a special Diamond made ring he forged with Mulciber's help for the wedding.
"You really shouldn't have done that!" Lilith giggled.
"Oh?"
"You vomited earlier..."
Lucifer remained silent at first. To which Lilith giggled more from it.
"Well...what can I say? I'm the king of goofy golf balls." Lucifer shrugged playfully.
"A shit king is what you're."
"Ouch."
"At least you're my "shit king"." She grinned, giving him a playful wink.
"Yep...right into my heart, dear. Psssh pow !" Lucifer mimicked the sound of a spear piercing his chest. They both shared a little laugh at Lucifer's joke. The King was glad their feud ended as both King and Queen completely forgot about their argument earlier. The Classic Morningstar Family was back again. Well...at least for the most part...and for a short time.
In the meantime, Their Cook came back with a glass of unholy water. Lucifer thanked him with a nod and drank the entire cup with one shot.
"So, who came up with the 'get drunk' idea?" Lilith asked, taking a bite of the pancake.
"Serpent." Lucifer laid his cup. He felt the pain slowly go away. "He convinced me to do that, wanting to cheer me up after Charlie left."
"Interesting..." Lilith thought aloud, curling her hair away from her eyes. "So, he didn't lie at all."
"Ah, so you talked to him already?" Lucifer sliced a small piece of pancake. But before taking a bite, he then says next. "And where is he?"
A grin formed on Lilith's face now that her lover mentioned it. But instead of a direct answer, she laid a purse on the table.
"Do you like my new purse?" She wiggled her eyebrows, hinting something.
"Well, it's a pattern it rather beautiful...where did you~"
Lucifer stopped as he realized something. The pattern has a green color...and Serpent has...
Oh no.
"Is he-" Lucifer eerily started and just stopped abruptly. No need for further explanation as the King was obvious with his words. Lilith nodded to that. She gently tapped her slender fingers on her purse to wake their favorite little rascal from his "sleep".
"Serpent, wake up my dear."
A pair of two snake eyes appeared on the purse's surface and blinked at Lucifer in surprise. The King gestured with his finger to look back as if he isn't the one who turned his brother into this . The Serpent's eyes moved back and immediately they turned into fear when they saw her.
"And who said that Snakeskin material is rather dull in Pentagram city." Lilith chuckled at her husband. Then she turned her attention to the snake, changing her expression into a serious one. "So, let me be straight, Snake. NO MORE OF THAT BEHAVIOR IN MY MANSION! Are we clear?"
Serpent's eyes mimicked the nodding motion. He doesn't want any more of that suffering.
"Good." Lilith snapped her fingers. The black aura surrounded the purse before it glowed and transformed into a snake, making Serpent come back.
"Wh-what?" Serpent looked around, not understanding what just happened. Realizing he can now turn his head; he raised his tail just in case. Soon his shock turned into hysterical laughter. It was good to be a little rascal again! Serpent looked at them, wanting to express gratitude...Yet he did not...as he needed to release his agony first.
"Excuse me for a moment..."
The Green Snake crawled into the fountain and dived headfirst. Then he screamed in the water...much to Lucifer's surprise.
"Oh, grow up! It wasn't that bad!" Lilith rolled her eyes.
Serpent raised his head from the water to protest. "You used your scalp and needle on me!"
"I could have used the chainsaw on you! At least I have some decency, unlike some demons." Lilith growled, imagining her hands-on Leviathan's throat, choking that ambitious son of bitch. "And Serpent, you better work hard today...or I will find other "uses" for your skin."
"Yeah, yeah. " Serpent dismissed.
*Ahem* Lilith warned.
"Yes, my Queen..." The Green Snake sighed with annoyance.
"Good snake." Lilith then conjured a mop and tossed it at Serpent's head. "Now work; I want the living room cleaned by tomorrow."
Serpent growled but did not say a word. He grabbed the mop with his mouth, used the fountain to wet it, and crawled to where Lucifer vomited to clean it.
Dealing with a wretched snake, Lilith got out Lucifer's hellphone, scrolled down, and pressed something. "While you were passed out, our Daughter sent you an video. See it for yourself."
"You know my password?"
"Come on, hon." Lilith rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid. You use DuckyDuck666 for everything.
Lucifer just grumbled and pressed the button to play the video. The video started with Charlie staring directly at the camera. Then her left eyebrow raised a little in confusion before she looked to the right.
"Is this thing on?" She asked.
"Yep!" A female's voice came from behind the camera. That voice is not familiar to Lucifer.
"Are you sure?" Charlie tilted her head.
"Hon, I can see you on the screen."
"But is it recording?"
The same unrecognizable female voice groaned in frustration. She then appeared in front of the camera. From Lucifer's perspective, she is a some kind a slim-figured moth demon with grayish-lavender skin. She wore what appears to be a light gray one-shouldered bra under a white minidress with loose straps, two light gray crosses on her chest, and a scalloped-trim at the bottom. In addition, she also wore a light gray belt around her waist.
"See the red dot flashing?" Moth-Demon asked, to which Charlie nodded. "That means it's recording."
"Oh!" Charlie covered her mouth in a dramatic gesture. "So, it's recording already?"
"Yep." Moth Demon then looked at the camera and waved her hand. "Say hi to your dad, dearie."
The moth demon gave a quick pat on Charlie's shoulder before disappearing from the screen. With her gone, Charlie then slowly shifted her eyes at the camera. She let out a nervous little laugh before it turned into a horrifying expression.
"Don't be afraid. It's not like we're broadcasting it to the entirety of Hell." Moth Demon 's voice came again.
"Right...dolphins, dolphins, dolphins!" Charlie inhaled and closed her eyes, composing herself that way. "Hey, Dad. Sorry for the technical difficulties. We are still getting used to the new environment."
Charlie then gestured around the camera's vision. "I'm at the Happy Ca~ I mean Hotel. The place has unfortunately deteriorated since...well you know why. My friend and I are planning to do some renovations this week. There's barely any electricity working, especially in the entrance hall.”
She tapped her fingers together, getting nervous for the next topic. "Soooo, remember I told you about my redemption project? Well, I have concluded~"
"No, you didn't." Moth Demon corrected her.
"But-"
"Charlie, we should fix the Hotel before taking the clients."
"But the Purge-"
"I know, hon, I know. I know enough that they won't change their mind, considering there are only sixteen days left for them to rain fire."
Charlie nodded, admitting the wisdom of that moth-demon. "So, what I meant to say is that we're thinking of taking a "test" client to see if my idea works. I took the opportunity to search the sinner files and found someone that might be easiest for us...uhh...what's his name again, Vaggie?"
"Angel Dust."
"And he is named after a drug, right?"
"Apparently, yes."
"Hold on, for a moment..." Lucifer stopped the video, wanting Lilith's wisdom. "She meant that Angel Dust? The guy Valentino wouldn't shut up about?"
"Yep, our daughter wants to bring a literal drug addict and a sex worker in her hotel, darling." Lilith nodded, also not amused but compared to her husband, less so. Lucifer shook his head in letdown. He would understand if she would consider bringing some homeless newbie demons to their Hotel. But a Drug Addict? What the fuck, Charlie?
"Oh, come on!" Serpent exclaimed in a muffled voice, noticing how disappointed they were. He then spit the mop away from his mouth. "What does it matter if he is a sex worker. Prostitutes are demons too!"
"Serpent, your niece plans to take a sex worker as her first client," Lucifer repeated. "If she really wanted to redeem the sinners she claims she wants, she at least would take a far easier target...addicts can only suck dicks for drugs."
"And why is that a problem for you, you fucking duck addicted motherfucker?!" Serpent expected more arguments from him. "What's the difference between the person who shoves a dick to his ass or a normal demon? NONE, they're both insane, obviously, but still, if that Angel Dust guy can try hard, he might have a chance. Everyone deserves an equal opportunity to redeem themselves if they want."
"Get back to work, Snake of Demons!" Lilith warned with a slight sarcasm.
Serpent rolled his eyes but obliged, picking up the mop. Lucifer resumed the video to see if there is something else.
"So yeah..." Charlie nodded to the camera. "It's just an option. I’ll send another video if I have an update on the matter."
Charlie then sighs, curling her hair away from her ear. "I-I just want to say that I'm very thankful for everything you have done for me. I know you have doubts about the Hotel and I truly understand your concerns. But please, dad. Please understand that they are my people too. I could not bear to see them suffer thanks to Exterminations." Charlie then moved closer to the camera. "I promise you; I will find a solution to the extermination problem. Just give me some time, okay? Love you...and mom too."
"I love you too, Charlie." Lilith whispered to herself, hopping that the circumstances were different.
Charlie then ended with an air kiss and a little goodbye wave on the video, sporting an adorable smile.
"You did good!" The moth-Demon commented.
"Aw, thank you!" Charlie blushed.
And there the video stopped. Lucifer placed the phone on the table and covered his head with his hands, letting out his frustration. The more Charlie moves, the more Lucifer realizes it is a fucking waste of time. He tried to remain moderate, but everything Charlie did made him want to go there and just demolish the stupid fucking ass Hotel and bring her back home.
"Taking an addict to your new hotel? What next?”
“A deal with the Devil himself?”
*Ding dong*
Lilith and Lucifer looked back. Well, that's unexpected.
"Did...did you invite someone?" Lilith asked him, surprised.
"No... you?"
Lilith shook her head in no.
"I will check it..." Serpent said, tossing the mop away.
The Green Snake left the courtyard and crawled his way to the entrance of Morningstar Compound. He used his tail to open the door.
"Hello and welcome to the Mor-WHAT THE FUCK!" Serpent gasped in horror as he saw it.
In front of him stands a tall Exorcist in a complete black uniform. It possesses two large goat-like horns on its head and large bat wings. Its face was covered with an LCD mask, with strange black smoke coming from where the eyes were supposed to be.
"Haill-"
Serpent slammed the door shut with all his power. He pressed his back against the door, breathing in relief. But wait...what if it's just hallucinations or he still has not recovered from yesterday? So Serpent opened the door just to be sure....and the Exorcist still stood there.
"-Devil!"
Serpent slammed the door again. He took no time to crawl his way back to the courtyard.
"THERE IS AN EXORCIST - A FUCKING EXORCIST!"
"Exorcist? Don't be ridiculous, Snake." Lilith groaned. Lucifer too, rolled his eyes at the serpent's lies.
"I'M FUCKING DEAD SERIOUS!"
"JUST STOP SHOUTING ALREADY!" Lucifer lost his temper before groaning, deciding just to look by himself. "Alright, fine! But if you are lying, I'm going to beat your ass! I swear to myself, Serpent! One day I will send you to the depths of Treachery Ring."
Lucifer arose and stormed out of the courtyard, with Serpent following him. Opening the front door of his mansion, Lucifer became silent as his face turned from an annoyance into an intriguing one.
"Serpent?" Lucifer whispered.
"Yeah?"
"That's not an Exorcist. That's just a Ha-Satan ."
It has been quite a while since the King of Hell saw this "Hellish-Unit." The Lesser Adversaries, or Ha-Satans as they were often called, were traitorous Angels of Death who rebelled with Lucifer and Satan against their father. They continued to exist millennia later to hunt down the remaining Limboers, the "Undesirables," Agents of Heaven, and, in general, Sinners who irritated The Seven Deadly Sins. Some regard them as fallen exorcists or hellish counterparts. But Lucifer knew the ironic truth: they were the Ancient Exorcist Unit. Heaven's Modern One is just a reformed unit, cleansed from Hell's taint.
"Lord Lucifer Morningstar." The Ha-Satan spoke without emotion.
"Yes, what is it?" Lucifer adjusted his posture.
"Our Dark-Master demands your presence..."
The Ha-Satan then raised his clawed hand, and a scroll was conjured on it. Lucifer grabbed the scroll without saying a word. The Hell's Exorcist then literally exploded, followed by a wave of screams from the damned. Lucifer ignored it and unwrapped the scroll to see what was inside.
King Lucifer of the Morningstar Dynasty.
Due to recent actions from your daughter: Charlotte Morningstar, your presence is requested on the Ninth Ring.
May The Dark Lord: Unhallowed By His Name bring us to victory.
- Azazel.
And that’s just what he's afraid the most of it...Only now he realized what he was afraid of the most from Charlie's Redemption Project.
His intervention
Taking no seconds, Lucifer paced himself to the living room. Lilith is sitting on the couch; she turned her attention to him when she heard Lucifer's footsteps.
"Who was that?" Lilith asked.
Lucifer did not say a word about that. He drew his hands behind his back, thinking it over... before bursting out in a very sad, genuine laugh.
"Oh, boy. WE-ARE-SO-FUCKED!"
"W-what are you talking about?" Lilith didn't understand why he is..so dramatic.
"I'm going to the Treachery Ring. He knows, Lilith. He fucking knows!" Lucifer complained to her.
"Just as I'm having enough of Heaven's bullshit, the complete opposite side just makes it worse." Lilith gently cursed at herself. Now it all makes sense for her.
"Best if I'm will handle it then..." Lucifer again brought his hand to his mouth, thinking further about it. Meanwhile, Serpent crept closer to him and gently tapped Lucifer's leg to get his attention.
"I'm coming with you, brother. I'm not going to leave you in the darkness that is Ninth Ring! With me watching your back, I would greet the Void itself if needed."
"Your funeral. Hop on my neck then." Lucifer chuckled; even the fallen angel forgets Serpent's love for him at times.
Serpent jumped on Lucifer's shoulder, wrapping his tail gently around Lucifer's neck. With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer transformed his clothes into a stylish white winter jacket, scarf, cargo pants, and snow boots.
"Lilith, if I don't come back until the next extermination, then make sure Charlie will have a clear succession line. I don't want Cain to get any ideas."
With a nod from the queen, Lilith and Lucifer shared a kiss, perhaps the last one if it goes horribly for Lucifer. Backing away, Lucifer looked at her one final time before he warped himself from the mansion, leaving the Queen alone in the living room. Lilith sniffed a bit, knowing that there is a huge chance of loosing him.
For the Devil's wrath is the stuff of nightmares...
[REDACTED], [REDACTED]
To witness the entirety Hell, it would take painful years or decades for an ordinary Hellborn. Hell was vast and filled with a wide variety of flora, fauna, cultural landmarks, and creatures that would kill you on sight. The further you travel from the Gates of Hell, the more dangerous Hell becomes. But what happens when you reach the end? That is what Lucifer will witness once again.
The Ninth or Last Ring of Hell was...a notorious place. It was completely cut off from the rest of Hell, with no Heavenly Lights or Hellish Moon reaching it, leaving the entire circle a frozen wasteland. There was no "life" down here; everything was empty. Just snow and endless darkness accompanied the unfortunate soul who "dared to enter". Here in the higher rings, there was quite a saying about this place in the form of a poem:
"The fires of Wrath never burn in the Ninth Ring: They are too scared that it will be extinguished in its darkness..."
"The stars of Lucifer never dance above the Ninth Ring: They fear they will be devoured by its cold dead hands..."
"Our Moon refuses to show itself in the Ninth Ring, neither full nor dim: It is too terrifying to stare into the depths of Hell...."
"If you ever find yourself there:
"if you find yourself upon the Devil's Land..."
"It is better to perish, fast and painless than those before you..."
"For there is no hope in Ninth Ring..."
"Welcome to Inferno's own Hell."
Phenex Goetia, who wrote this poem, was quite right about this place...welcome to Hell's Own Hell.
The King of Hell could've used his wings to travel quickly, but due to the intense blizzard, he was afraid of them freezing to ice. So, he had to walk or use limited teleportation to make his journey safer. He slowly made his way through the paved, snowy road. Thankfully, the road had some weird, special fuel generators that were lighting the way.
"I hope you’re enjoying this weather, Serpent!" Lucifer mockingly exclaimed as he made his way through a snowy road, shivering from the cold.
"Believe me, it's nothing when you're turned into a snake!" Serpent shivered as well. Although he wasn't 100% sure if he was telling the truth or not. This cold became very unbearable for him.
After a few desperate minutes of following the lighted path, Lucifer and Serpent arrived at the gates of the Accusatoris Carcerem, the massive citadel built around Lake Cocytus. It was the only building in the Frozen Circle...even saying this did not make Lucifer feel better about himself.
The King of Hell then banged his hand against the metal gate. After at least 10 seconds of silence, he heard this.
1) ⛧ W̷͖͝h̴̫̑̉ö̷͉́ ̸͕̪͗ģ̶̲̔͊ȏ̴̝̘è̶̛̠s̷̪̦̊ ̸̯̿̕͜t̶̲̰͛̅h̵̫͕̎e̷͍̳̋̿r̴͈̒è̷̳̹?̸̖̻͂̚ ψ
"Who-What?!" Lucifer raised his head as he did not understand anything.
2) "☠ I̴̢͂ ̵̧̳̉̈́s̶̙͗ą̸̪̍͆i̸̡̙̒͆d̶̛̻͆ ̶̢͚̍̌ẃ̸̺̚h̸͎̽o̷̢̽͠ ̴̢̜͐g̵̖̫̏̀o̸̓̊ͅe̶̗͑̑ś̶̞ ̸̜̇t̸̡̝͗ȟ̷̲̕ͅë̸̻́͒r̴̪̓͠e̴̞̼͌!̵̘͌?̵͓̲̂ ⛧" The demon exclaimed in a more hostile manner.
"Umm...Hello there!" Lucifer then chuckled, feeling it was a good time to make a goofy joke. "My name is Lucifer Morningstar and me… love polka. Love it! Mmm! Polka, polka, polka. Cannot get enough. And… I have got lots of money… mmm, that I love spending on cassettes. Not even picky. I will do any of them. Mix them together sometimes."
3) ⛧ A̵̢̮͌̑h̸̳̎͛ ̸̢̦́y̷̼̮̒͘ẹ̷̒̓s̸͉̈́͘.̶̗̻̿ ̶͉͊̍T̵͓̽̑h̴͕͌̍͜ë̵͈̥́ ̵̡̗́D̶̖͉̃̚ȁ̵̺͜͝r̸͓̰͊͌k̷̡͔͛̾ ̷̱͍̾L̶͈̿͘ȏ̵̡r̵͚͋͝d̸͍̿ ̷͚̔́ḋ̶͉e̴͍̾̾m̴̨̜̓a̸̬͑n̸̝̫͋͘d̷̜̆͑s̶͈̐ ̶̙̻́͋y̶̜̅̀õ̵̧͓u̷̩̲͠r̷͙̈́͝ ̶̣̅̀p̸̡̓͝r̵͎̓̈́ẹ̶̓s̸̨̈́e̴̙̼͆͛n̶̛͇c̷͎̰̒e̷̜͒̈́ ̷̤̩̏i̶͎̐̊n̵̢̝̒ ̴͉̫͗͝C̷̝̍ì̴̡͖͒t̶̛̝̓a̵̗̐͑ͅd̵̦͎̓͝e̸̻̽l̴͇͗̌!̸̱̝̍̾ ⛧
"Right...THANK YOU, MY FELLOW...DEMON BEING!" Lucifer waved his hand, but still, he didn't understand anything.
The Demon...thing disappeared from Lucifer's sight. The citadel's gates then slowly opened for the King and the tempter to enter. Without any further delays. Lucifer paced himself inside. The entrance gates closed behind them with a deafening clang. Full darkness greeted them once again.
"Really? They can't afford some lights here?" Serpent complained.
"Need a light?" Lucifer cast a fireball and froze it, making it his source of light.
"Yep," Serpent nodded, only to gasp in fear when he noticed someone standing in front of them. Serpent couldn't tell who he is...it might be...other than a black, shadowy demon. It did not have any facial features...like a wraith in some way.
"It's been quite a while since we last saw you, Lord Morningstar. We preferred if you visited us...more often." The strange demon expressed himself.
"Oh, you know...pretty busy with running Hell while you...doing your stuff here, Mephistopheles." Lucifer explained gloomily to the Wraith Demon.
As for Eden's Snake, Serpent just gulped in fear...whenever Mephistopheles is around...The Devil himself was not that far away.
"Understandable" A hollowed chill voice came from Mephistopheles's presence "Still, a lot has changed since you ventured here. ALLOW ME to present my new masterpiece!"
With Mephistopheles's signal, the next pair of Gates opened to reveal THE NIGHTMARE ITSELF. Serpent's eyes widened in shock...he could not believe it...WHAT IN THE LUCIFER'S NAME they ventured into!
The Citadel's Courtyard is filled Sinner husks...or "Despoiled Sinners" as they commonly referred. These are souls who for a long time committed sins that they...finally lost all of their Humanity. Now they shambled all around the courtyard like zombies, never understanding why or where they were going, while their own sins manifested into sentient dark creatures. And worse, they are some Sinners who are...still sentient but no longer can even raise themselves on their feet...in a way.
This is ultimate fate for all Sinners in Hell...
Something that Serpent was horrified of it.
"Don't be shy...they don't bite." Mephistopheles laughed, his laugh was that of nightmares...just pure darkness and hatred.
As Lucifer and Mephistopheles walked through the paved road, The still Sentient Sinners all raised their heads and looked at their King. Nearly all of them begged Lucifer to kill them. But Lucifer ignored him, although he felt strange and weird...not every day you hear a request for the King of Hell to kill them. So odd...Even Lucifer himself felt it was too much...in fact, now he felt like he was too merciful to his victims...quick death is at least better than this ...
The Green Snake could not express how there are so many of them. With the frozen conditions here in the ninth ring, Serpent could not imagine to the full extent how much they all suffered here.
"Is this really necessary, Mephistopheles?" Serpent asked with uneasiness in his voice.
"The Sin Herself must be fed...of course it's necessary." Mephistopheles replied with no emotion.
"Yeah..." Serpent sighed, feeling even more dread after the word "Sin Herself" came. "Of course she must be..."
Mephistopheles only glanced at Serpent, even if that wraith didn't have a face, it's clearly shown distrust from what Serpent just muttered. But in any case, the wraith demon guided Lucifer to the stairs before stopping at the citadel's main doors. Lucifer was about make his first step, only to be stopped by sudden voice.
"You know what?" Serpent broke the silence as he jumped from Lucifer's neck to the rail. "I think I'm going to wait for you here. Never thought I would say this...but getting killed by the Exorcists is merciful compared to this ."
"Scared, aren't you?" Lucifer asked calmly, although with a slight joke.
"You're not?"
"Pff, of course not! I dealt with the Devil before. The only thing you get is an eerie feeling from him..."
"Well...you're the boss, L. Good luck with him."
With Lucifer's nod to the Green Snake, he and Mephistopheles proceeded inside the Citadel. Compared to his mansion, this place was dull, empty, and just...abandoned. Oh, and it was too dark...because nobody bloody fuck bothered to put some candles here and there. Seriously, Lucifer barely see even if he held his frozen fireball. But at least it wouldn't be long before they entered the throne room. And of course, it was empty; only Ha-Satans stood in the corners.
"Wait here, Lord Morningstar. I will notify my master of your presence."
Bowing to the King of Hell, Mephistopheles ventured further. As he walked through the corridors, Mephistopheles's confident motion disappeared, replaced by fear. The closer he got to his destination, the more the icy fingers of fear clutched his throat.
Stopping at the gates, Mephistopheles fixed his posture before he opened the doors, with Lake Cocytus greeting him with a huge blizzard. But it didn't stop him as he ventured further, making his stand at the edge of the lake before kneeling.
"My Lord...Your Bearer of Pride has arrived."
The Wraith Demon shivered as he felt his voice. It was a cold groan. Then Lake Cocytus melted as the silhouette of the Dark Lord was raised from the lake. Then the sound of heavy hoof footsteps came closer and closer until it stopped. It was enough for Mephistopheles to fall into terror.
Mephistopheles bowed completely, his ghost head planted on the snow, still shivering in fear. Thankfully, his master was in a "good mood" as he heard the Dark Lord's footsteps again before they got quieter. Lucifer gently tapped his cane, pondering his surroundings. This throne room is mundane compared to his mansion. Perhaps one day he could provide some advice on furniture. Even the Lord of Sins must have some "drip" every now and then.
The fallen angel's ears perked up when he heard his footsteps. The King of Hell, in a swift motion, turned around to face him. The silhouette of the Dark Lord appeared from the distance, walking closer and closer. The fog would fade, now giving a clear view of him.
The Dark Lord/Devil/Woland is a muscular, eight-foot-tall humanoid demon with dark gray skin and several glowing scars around his body. His pupils were shaped into the pentagram symbol, glowing in red, orange, or yellow, depending on his mood. Two massive horns on his head and small spikes on his shoulders and chest. His legs appeared goat-like, akin in form to those of a satyr. His angelic wings were torn off, leaving only smoking stumps. He wears the goat skull with the sigil of Baphomet drawn on its forehead.
"Lucifer Morningstar..." The Dark Lord started with a neutral voice, it's his way of greeting an old...friend.
Swallowing, Lucifer inclined his head and fixed his posture with more confidence.
"Ah, my old primordial friend! I haven't seen you in a millennium! You look well! Eh, a few cobwebs here and there, but we can ignore that. How have you been, old bean?"
The Devil tilted his head, His ever-hating eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You seem...unsettled."
"Oh, you know... as much as I appreciate the classics of "Hell's Dark Ages", I would appreciate it more if you-" Lucifer then taps the Devil's abs with his apple's cane. "-tuned up yourself, old bean."
Once Lucifer finished, the Devil stared at him for an incredibly awkward 10 seconds before he snickered in a quiet tone. "As you desire, King of Hell...."
The Dark Lord kneeled in front of Lucifer. His body then glowed with dark energy before being engulfed in black smoke, followed by black fog. From the fog emerged once again the Devil...but in his new appearance.
He has now turned himself into his...pseudo fallen angel/deceiver form. He wore an unbuttoned Gothic-style black waistcoat with a black vest and red undershirt, a tie suit with a red upside-down cross on it. He had the Sigil of Baphomet symbol attached to his suit's lapels. His black pants were held up by a belt with an engraved buckle that said, "As above, so below."
Devil's face did change too. Lucifer now saw the Devil's face in his pre-rebellion state...except his hair is still black and he sports a shaggy beard. Yet the King of Hell didn't need to realize it was one of the Devil's fake forms. The Great Deceiver had many forms, starting with Black Phillip and ending with the Great Dragon of Apocalypse.
"And some say Devil doesn't have style..." Devil's shrill voice returned to normal as he checked his gloves before turning his attention to the Fallen Angel. "I wondered if it would be you or the First Victim, bearer of Pride."
"Just me...Lilith is busy with her typical stuff," Lucifer said grimly with no elaboration.
"As we all are these days..." The Devil remarked, before putting on his Victorian-style hat and summoning Anguis, the Devil's own trident. "I can see that the broken toy of your creator still tries to find meaning in the realm of Darkness...enough that she rather wants to be in your creator's realm than with you."
Lucifer's calm nature boiled over after hearing this. Calling Lilith a "broken toy" is so in line with the Devil's views. But still, he had the audacity to say it to the King of Hell and husband of Lilith.
"Hmm, I sense a...disturbance in the Sins..." The Devil closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He felt how the aura of wrath surrounded Lucifer's psyche. It felt like a delicious delight to witness the anger of the King of Pride himself. "What's the matter, Bearer of Pride? Is the King of Pride embracing the Sin of Wrath?"
"Quite a provoker, aren't you?" Lucifer smirked, keeping his anger at bay. He then gestured with his head to the exit of the citadel, hinting at what he meant by it. "Nice show outside, by the way."
"Delightful scene, isn't it? This is only the beginning ."
Lucifer only rolled his eyes in a non-caring manner. Yep, that's the Dark Lord of Hell in all his glory. The primordial spirit of all evil often showed great sadistic pleasure in the pain, suffering, and death of all living and non-living things, killing thousands of creatures off without even batting an eye about it at all. Time and time again, the Primordial Spirit of Destruction exhibited pure malevolence. The sentient fire that proactively sought to ruthlessly destroy everything in its path and cause suffering to others.
This was a truly grave evil.
Cruel, merciless, sadistic, and manipulative.
As the Devil himself truly was...
"So, Bearer of Pride. What is happening outside of my little, secluded prison?" The Devil spoke coldly, bringing his arms behind his back.
"Same as always: murder there, murder that...genocide in one place by First Man, genocide in another. Some degenerates come crashing down to the bowels of my domain with typical stories: Murder? Kidnapping? Rape? a life-destroying drug addiction? Putting your faith in the wrong God? You name it!"
"So it never changes...how typical" The Devil murmured under his breath, his mouth barely moved. The Dark Lord then, without any warning, warped himself through King Lucifer, making him flinch and scowl. That bastard thought he was the smart one with his powers.
"Tell me, bearer of Pride. Do you like reading books?" The devil's voice was heard all around the dark hall.
"I don't have time for books. I prefer listening to polka." Lucifer glanced around, searching for where he might be. He'd heard the Dark Lord hum in response to Lucifer's words before it went quiet again... before the Devil reappeared, this time in front of the King, holding two books in both hands.
"There are two books that have interested me recently. One is Dante's Inferno. The other is Paradise Lost. It is so interesting to see how they interpret their versions of your demise. And yet~" The Devil then set the two books on fire, tossing them gently to the floor. "They are always wrong ."
"Well, you know them...that's their business for being stupid." Lucifer replied in a simple manner. His response actually managed to get the Dark Lord to raise an eyebrow.
"I can see you have eased up since the last time I saw you. Did you forget humanity was the reason you were here?"
"I feel comfortable being here. I have everything: power, ambition, fame, and Family. Better to reign in hell than serve in Heaven."
"And yet always not enough..." The Devil murmured to himself, now realizing what had caused Lucifer to soften up. The Devil wrapped himself up again, only to return with a charming painting of young Charlie Morningstar from the 1830s. The Devil then looked at the picture, his expression unchanged—just a bland, emotionless one.
"How is your own creation doing?"
"Good actually..." Lucifer replied before going silent again.
"Hmm, and that's all?" The Devil glanced cautiously at him, teleporting the picture away. "As much as I despise everything in this miserable existence, it's endlessly intriguing how my own "daughter" is managing these days. Rumor has it that she left you to fulfill her wish—her wish being "a Redemption Hotel, hmm?"
Lucifer lifted his sunken eyes in disbelief at hearing the last phrase. His inner demon screamed, cursing at the Devil for his passive-aggressiveness. For the sake of everyone, he had to be extremely cautious and remain calm.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Evil One. Charlie wished to reopen that old casino because...well...she loves having fun."
The Devil slowly turned and stared at Lucifer in a disturbing manner...before finally speaking.
"It just so happens that she now owns it without Seviathan. And her goal is...unusual, I might add." The Devil then shifted his expression from a grin into a very...very eerie glance. "Drop your stupidity act, Lucifer. I know everything about Charlie's little redemption project."
"How so?" Lucifer's crooked mouth tensed when he mentioned it. He had no reason to continue lying under any circumstances.
"You forget who you are speaking to. They do not call me "Master of Shadows" for nothing, Bearer of Light..."
Lucifer would respond but then stop when he heard strange whispers behind him. Looking back, he witnessed how his own shadow rose from the ground. It then walked delicately and sat in front of Devil, mimicking the faithful dog's barking. Lucifer growled upon this realization. Now it all makes sense to him...betrayed by his own shadow.
But much to Shadow's hope that his master would award him, the Devil then gripped Lucifer Shadow's neck and struck it. The shadow collapsed on the floor and disappeared into thin air before the rest of it returned to Lucifer's essence. The Devil then slowly walked back to Lucifer, shifting a cautious glance at the fallen angel's eyes.
"You disappoint me, Bearer of Pride. I have been fair with our deal we made...have I ever done bad to you?"
"No," Lucifer said with no emotion. It was a lie, of course.
"I allowed you to rule Hell all by yourself, didn't I?" The Devil gently placed his hand on Lucifer’s face.
"Yes..." Lucifer ignored the evil spirit's touch.
"And I'm the reason why Charlie exists. Was any of that meant to hurt your pride~” The Devil trailed his fingers along Lucifer’s cheek. “~Your ambitions?" Then, to his chin. ”~Your fame?” Finally, he got to his neck. "Your family?"
"No..." Lucifer only whispered that.
The Devil purposefully yanked his hand away from Lucifer's neck, squeezing as if he had nearly tried to choke Lucifer for his failure. He then leaned closer; their mouths were not far from each other. "Then enlighten me, my Pride Bearer: What is your daughter doing -"
"EXACTLY"
His last word caused a brief earthquake in the vicinity of the Citadel. As a primordial spirit, just like God is, the Devil's powers outmatched Lucifer's. Not to mention his hatred and wrath against Heaven, which nourished him throughout the millennia.
"Look, Charlie is a fool: A fool that thinks the inside of every demon is a rainbow! Many times, I tried to beat into her the sense that redemption was some fantasy created by my Dad. Even to this day, she defiled my words!"
Of course, Lucifer lied here. Never in many millions of years was he going to let the Dark Lord get any closer to Charlie. As such, he preferred to lie, but he needed to do it for Charlie's safety.
The Devil didn't say anything and only turned away from Lucifer. The Dark Lord, with a flick of his fingers, summoned a portal. Inside the portal, Charlie and that Moth-Demon again are cleaning the entrance hall of the Happy Hotel.
"Children...they always defile their father's work, aren't they?" The Devil whispered to himself, not enjoying the great irony. It's so ironic how Charlie tries to run away from her destiny. Now the Dark Lord watched as Charlie scrubbed the floor like a peasant, fully wrapped up in her little fantasy of redeeming sinners.
Lucifer was disgusted by this scene. He knew Charlie was quite prideful and would stubbornly defend her goal. But even Lucifer didn't tolerate this nonsense about Redemption. Ironically enough, even if Lilith is absent in Charlie's life, she had been very supportive of Charlie's goals, thus cementing Lucifer's bad position. Should he really just storm the Hotel, destroy it, and drag Charlie back home. He would have to face a really strong fallout from Charlie and Lilith.
For Charlie, it's quite straightforward. Charlie showed traits of Lucifer at the younger points of the archangel's life. There was no doubt she would try to rebel against her dad, thus fulfilling the biggest deja vu in history. And even if Lucifer won, he was going to lose an heir, probably a wife, and his support in the Stygian Council would be diminished. All of the damned leeches would use the opportunity to usurp Lucifer's throne. Like hell, that would not happen until every last sinner was dead.
As for Lilith, she was going to be livid at him for ruining Charlie's dreams. His wife always believed that Charlie must have a rebellious phase in order to make her a better future High Queen of Hell. As the embodiment of feminism, Lilith sought Charlie to continue this through her daughter. It was why she supported Charlie's goals and her breakup with Prince Seviathan. All of these points supported Lilith's own ideology.
Should he defile Charlie's dream, he will also defile Lilith's beliefs, making him no better than Adam. And Asmodeus was 100% willing to join the opposition against Lucifer if it happened. Ozzie has, to this day, loved Lilith no matter what. Even to the point that if someone hurt Lilith emotionally, Asmodeus was going to first "cancel" that demon very hard before he would make that demon his bitch.
"Give her time. Charlie is...confused. Her mind will become more logical as her ideas collapse. It wasn't the first time she had these crazy ideas."
"Why do I feel like I'm getting empty excuses, Bearer of Pride?" The Devil forewarned, casting a quick glance at the fallen one before returning his gaze to Charlie.
"It's not an excuse; Lilith has been on my mind a lot. Give me some time to address this problem."
The Devil didn't reply to that. He instead pondered what to do. On the other hand, he wasn't opposed to Lucifer handling the rebellious little girl his way... but there was an excellent opportunity to play his own "Devil Cards" on the hotel's matter.
After all, wherever there was sin, wherever there was strife, wherever there was corruption and persecution. There also The Devil. Every so often, he remained only a spectator. A face in the crowd. But always...he was there when needed.
He can wait...
The Dark Lord merely shifted his wicked eyes at the Portal...glaring suspiciously at Charlie...before returning his odd stare at the Fallen Angel.
" Soon , you will see her once more, bearer of Pride. As for the hotel, how you approach this problem is entirely up to you." He then strolled closer to Lucifer. "But heed my words. If you ignore my words and Charlie somehow redeems one sinner, it will not only cause chaos for both of us... but she will also be a victim of an even more monstrous "wrath" than mine. When the time comes for you to make your decisions...remember my words: Prepare for unforeseen consequences . And in the meantime, this is where I get off..."
The devil's psychic form vanished, leaving behind the black fog that caused Lucifer to cough. That son of a bitch could at least move away a bit. Still...while he may have survived, it still left a lot of questions unanswered, but considering he spoke to a primordial spirit, there won't be any answers.
No wonder the Devil is just like his Father...
Different side of the same coin
Serpent stared, stared, and stared...He stared at the nightmare below him. A long time ago, the Serpent as Cherub Serpentel helped Adam and Eve with everything, teaching them to live. Then Helel, Lilith, and Samael brought him news from their dad...to cause Eve to eat the special apple. Now watching how Eve's children are suffering here made Serpent's eyes open clearer. Everything that is happening here is his fault...
"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." Serpent whispered to himself as he watched how one of the Sinners succumbed into their sins...the body fell on the ground as it's shadow emerged from the ground. It then raised it's shadowy finger, commanding it's previous host to rise...which that Sinner did, joining his shambling friends in eternal damnation.
"Dreadful picture, isn't it? Humanity, as beautiful as it is, is filled with the seeds of the Devil, some of which you planted, Serpent."
Serpent widened his eyes when he heard a feminine voice. He looked back to see a humanoid female Fallen Angel in a black dress, a black cloak, and a black hood that covered her head.
"Azazel?" Serpent muttered in disbelief, unable to believe that a Grigori Angel stood in front of him.
"Salutations, Serpent. The nature of our meetings is rather unfortunate in a climate like this..."
"Oh, it's still great to see you...Great Witch Azazel, right?" Serpent asked just to be sure, but he still bowed his head out of respect.
"Titles are meaningless. It is a concept to establish a hierarchy or show dominance. I'm still known as Azazel. But your presence is rather unusual, Serpent: is it a formal visit, an informal one, or perhaps a demand?" Azazel pondered aloud.
"Well...if you mean Lucifer, I'm with him here." Serpent expressed a slight uneasiness in his voice.
"Yet I sense a great disturbance in you... as if the old part of you awoke, trying to mutter the truth to your shadow."
"For some reason, it just feels... bad." Serpent struggled to find good words for it. "I see this nightmare and think to myself, if I hadn't lied to Eve, this would not have happened. I didn't live up to my full potential...as a Cherub."
"How can one be well...when one suffers morally?" Azazel rubbed her chin, observing him. "But everyone fails at who they are supposed to be, Serpent. The measure of a person, be it a human, an angel, a god, or a demon, is how well they succeed at being who they are. It is possible you just seek justice, Serpent.” Azazel raised her finger, indicating her words. “After all, we are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it."
Serpent nodded; he then opened his mouth, something that might have provided some relief.
"Azazel. Yesterday, Lucifer's daughter, Charlotte Morningstar, left her home to fulfill her idea to redeem the sinners. Is it possible in your eyes?"
"Hmm." Azazel crossed her arms. "Everything is possible in our existence. But what is more interesting is that it seems we have come full circle. Didn't Lucifer also have noble goals, only for them to be crushed and cause a massive event that rocked history? If so, would Charlie's case be any different?"
"You think the Dark Lord would allow it?"
"The Lord of Sins only knows how to undo God's work. As such, what Charlie does is the opposite...hence she is an enemy of the Devil. And the Devil will crush any of his adversaries, sooner or later."
"He...He is going to kill Charlie?"
"Corrupt, Murder, Sway: the possibilities are endless, Serpent. But know this...If Lucifer is not the one who will stop Charlie. Then the Devil will use her for his own goals...and that's a far worse outcome for the young princess."
"Oh, not good..." Serpent panicked. If Azazel tells the truth, then Charlie's Hotel is in danger, or Charlie's own life is in danger.
"Perhaps, in order to help your niece, you should seek out the one who wronged you, for the enemy of my enemy is my friend, as humans do say. Maybe you'll find your redemption that way."
Azazel then elevated her hand and flicked her fingers. Serpent felt a strange sensation...like he had learned something.
Wait...
No way...
He knows her number...he knows how to contact her!
"And now you can seek the one who became your phantom of guilt, Serpent." Azazel finished by lowering her hand and bringing it behind her back.
"But why are you helping me?"
"Helping you?" Azazel asked with a slight surprise. "I am merely sending you down the path you desire the most. Wherever you succeed or fail...well...fate will decide your outcome. Not me."
Serpent looked at Azazel more carefully. He always wanted to ask her a specific question. Azazel's nature is always a mystery. She used to be Dad's advisor when he was creating Heaven and Earth. Then she was the sole reason why Satan and Lucifer rebelled.
Yet she hasn't joined the rebellion side. Azazel instead taught Adam and Eve's descendants how to make swords, knives, shields, and breastplates; and made known to them the metals of the earth and the art of working them, as well as all kinds of costly stones and all coloring tinctures. Because of this, Azazel was cast out of Heaven. Lord Devil would later recruit her to be "The Mistress of Secrets" and “Master of the Witches”.
"You're no angel, that's clear to me...neither you a demon; you look uncorrupted. So, what are you exactly, Azazel?"
"Do you wish to know?" Azazel asked him again, sporting a weak smile.
"Well...yeah..." Serpent seemed unsure whether he wanted it or not.
"No, Serpent, you don't.” Her smile went back to a neutral expression. “This one time I shall not grant you knowledge. All who have learned my true nature are now either dead or have met an even worse fate."
"Then, tell me this: h-how did you know all of this?"
"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing." Azazel pointed it out. Her left ear then twitched, hearing the distant footsteps. She raised her chin a bit to make the last point. "It would be best if you didn't mention our dialog with Lucifer before you talked with your phantom of guilt. And remember Serpent. I provided you with a path... but there will be many unintended consequences. Tread carefully, snake."
The citadel's gates opened as Lucifer rushed from it.
"Serpent, we-" He stopped when he noticed Azazel's presence. "Azazel...it's charming to see you here."
"Salutations, My King. I hope you had a successful meeting with our Primordial Spirit." Azazel simply greeted.
"Yeah...too successful." Lucifer mumbled. The King of Hell then glared at the Serpent without saying anything back to Azazel. "We're leaving, Serpent. I'm tired of this place."
"Yeah, me too.” Serpent nodded, before hoping to Lucifer's neck.
"Until the next time. Give my best regards to Queen Lilith." Azazel gently bowed her head. With her hands behind her back, she watched Lucifer with the Serpent warped from Hell's Hell.
The Pentagram City's outskirts, The Morningstar Compound
Seven hours later
Since Lucifer's departure, little has changed in the Morningstar compound. The queen herself, Lilith, was in her bedroom, reading a book. Well, she tried to read something to kill the boredom. Most of the day was boring without Lucifer and Charlie. Now only a Mansion dead silent without her loved ones. But thankfully, she heard the doors swinging open. So, she immediately rushed out of the bedroom to see if it was him.
"DARLING!" Lilith exclaimed in delight to see him as well.
"Hey, sweet-Whoa!" Lucifer yelped when Lilith lunged at him, giving him the tightest hug he ever had.
"Oh, thank Da-I mean-Sat-I mean SOMEONE for your safety! I was so worried."
"Pfff...when someone will notice me." Serpent rolled his eyes in envy.
"Oh, shut up, you rascal. Come here!" Lilith let Serpent hug her neck with his tail.
Freeing them from her embrace, Queen Lilith then backed off as they were both damped from the snow. "So how did it go, dearest ones?"
Lucifer and the Serpent looked at each other. They both agree with the silent nod that Lucifer will speak.
"It's something, Lilith. He is the same."
"Of course, he is." Lilith was not surprised in the slightest. “I'm still glad you both are alive and well. Charlie also has some news for you, dear."
Once more Lilith offered Lucifer's own phone to him. It was not a great time, but still, Lucifer would not leave it unseen. So, he took the phone and pressed the button to play the video.
The video starts with Charlie holding the camera, as she walks through the corridor.
"Dad!" Charlie yelped in excitement. "I did it! Sweet cupcakes, I did it! We found Angel Dust on the streets, and he agreed to take our program!"
"With some persuasion, Charlie." The Moth Demon's annoyed voice said behind her.
"But still! It's awesome, Vaggie! It's our first client!"
"I guess..."
“We still think about the program for Angel. But we hope he will succeed no matter what. I’ll call you tomorrow to talk about it further. Love you!” She waved her hand before the video stopped.
Lucifer pocketed his phone without saying a word. His expression turned into fear. Oh, poor foolish little girl.
"What's wrong?" Lilith asked, seeing his unnatural gloomy expression.
"I'm just tired of all of this “Hotel” bullshit. Goodnight, my dear." Lucifer In the end, just snapped his fingers, turning himself into his normal attire before venturing into their bedroom.
"What's happened down there?" She addressed her concerns to Serpent.
"It's...we both experienced...the horrors of the ninth Ring...and…you...do you need to do something?" Serpent dodged in the end, biting his lower snake lip.
"Well...the living room needs to be cleaned, but you can do tomo-"
"I will do it right now." Serpent nodded before he crawled into the living room. leaving the confused Lilith alone in the entrance hall. The Queen had never seen them in that state of horror...
What did she really miss down there?
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) Who goes there? - (???)
2) I said who goes there!? - (???)
3) Ah yes. The Dark Lord demands your presence in Citadel! - (???)
Chapter 4: Of Snakes, Angels And Apples
Summary:
"Because you have done this. Cursed you are more than all cattle. On your belly, you will go, and dust you will eat. All the days of your life." - Yahweh to Cherub Serpentel.
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (5 days before the Extermination), 3:04 AM.
The Pentagram City's outskirts, The Morningstar Compound
Nothing much had occurred at Morningstar Mansion since that fateful journey to the Ninth Ring. Lucifer was engrossed in his usual mundane tasks, Lilith relished her vacation, and the serpent found himself navigating the delicate balance of survival in the wake of Lilith's occasional fury. The entire day was filled with the routine of cleaning rooms and washing dishes for the King and Queen, tasks that, while mundane, was better than leaving in the streets.
Engrossed in the monotonous task of tending to the daily chores, Serpent found solace in the repetitive nature of cleaning rooms and washing dishes for the King and Queen. It was a modest existence, yet far preferable to the life on the streets.
As the serpent approached the end of another menial task, preparing to drain the sink, an unexpected revelation seized his attention.
"What in the...?" Serpent narrowed his eyes at the sink to try to see it. Something peculiar lurked beneath the water's surface, prompting him to investigate. With narrowed eyes and cautious curiosity, he raised his tail, only to be startled by a sudden emergence – a red hand burst forth from the sink.
Caught off guard, the serpent gasped, instinctively muffling the sound to avoid rousing the royal family. A familiar figure emerged – the sinner, the same tortured soul from the Ninth Ring, reached out desperately towards Serpent.
"Why did you leave us?!" she pleaded, grasping for the serpent's tail. "Why did you leave us to suffer down there?! IT'S YOU WHO TEMPTED HER!!"
In an eerie crescendo, hands of the Dark Lord's victims manifested from every conceivable surface in the kitchen, imploring the serpent for salvation.
"Help us!"
"Please, end this!"
"Kill us!"
Their begging escalated into anguished screams as skeletal hands stretched towards the serpent, and the room ignited with spectral flames.
"I'm SORRY! I'm SO SORRY FOR YOUR SUFFERING!" Serpent cried, slowly retreating from the haunting spectacle, his eyes shut against the infernal scene. Suddenly, a potent force seized the room, and as he opened his eyes, he beheld IT – the embodiment of humanity's shadow, a chilling amalgamation of a woman's ghostly form and a serpent's body.
The Sin Herself leaned toward the serpent, whispering a foreboding message:
⛧ T̴͖̫̣͒̾̀́h̸̨̭̟͗̔̚e̸̢͇̳̗̹͆͒̃ ̴̹̳̔̀̐À̶̡̹͓̮̬̃̑̎͒n̸̮̫̞̗̈̉̕̚t̶̗͓͉͈̏͌̈́̐i̶͂͜-̴̙͚̌C̵̡̺̮̊̓h̷̡̤͈͇̥̔͝r̸͉̈͝i̸͍̭̫͔̲̍́͂͝s̷̨͉̹̹̃͐͜t̴̙̿̄ ̴̡͚̯̐͑̃̿S̸̭͇̣̩̭͋̒͘h̶͎̉̊̍̃̍ạ̷͚̈̊̍̃ļ̸̲̲̻͛l̶̢̤̂̏̓͘̚ ̴͎̩̭̥̳͊̈́R̷̮̓̅̏͝i̶̢̲̩͐ͅs̸͙̬͑ȇ̸̪̩͝ ⛧
"NEVER!" Serpent opened his eyes in instant. He looked around as he gasped…he was in his old cardboard box. He poked out of the box. Yep, Charlie’s case was fixed, meaning he did go to Hell’s own Hell with Lucifer.
“So, it was all just a dream...” He said to himself, wiping his eyes. "Oh, for Dad's sake, I couldn’t bear all of this. The suffering…the painful death these demons experienced. It was so wrong."
Serpent couldn't shake off the weight of the suffering and death he witnessed in the dream. The torment of demons haunted him, urging him to take action. His gaze shifted to the telephone table...perhaps, thanks to Azazel, he could call her . But what if she didn’t accept him? She had every reason to hate him...
...
No, feelings needed to be cast aside. It was nothing compared to what the Devil will do once he gets his hands on Charlie. The Devil only brings destruction. Sooner or later, he must be stopped! Without wasting a moment, Serpent slithered towards the telephone on the table. Gripping the receiver with his mouth, he dialed the specific number embedded in his mind by Azazel. After a brief pause, he finally got his answer.
"The Eye of Providence, how can I help you?"
"Hey..." Serpent smiled. "It's me...Serpent, your old pal."
Serpent could hear her growl; it appeared she was still angry with him for everything he had done to her.
"Is this a joke? I had enough of your jokes, Deerie!"
"Wait-Wait!" Serpent pleaded, causing her to pause. "I'm the real Serpent: The Snake of Eden. Listen, I'm not here for chit-chat! I need your presence here at Morningstar Compound. I beg you, my dear. It's important!"
"Serpent?....Alright fine, explain the situation to me." The Female's voice shifted to attentiveness, a reminder of the classic girl he loved.
"It's the Devil...he...well, he...just let me explain in person, okay? I don't know if your people or mine can hear us."
"They don't...All right, I'll be there in 10 minutes."
"There is an emergency exit near the gates; I will leave it open for you. You know where Morningstar Compound is?"
"Yes, everyone knows up here...see you then, Snake."
"You too, my dear. You too," Serpent hung up, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Despite the urgency, a fleeting sense of nostalgia lingered for her voice. Still, vigilance remained his priority.
Venturing outside, the Green Snake skillfully maneuvered through the emergency gate, employing the spare key from the living room. Positioned in the small apple garden, he awaited Eve's arrival. Approximately twelve minutes later, the sound of high heels approached.
"You're late," Serpent uttered, devoid of emotion.
"I came as fast as I could." A hooded figure in a white jumpsuit entered the garden. "Traveling between Heaven and Hell is not that easy, Serpent."
"I know...I'm very thankful for risking your life, my dear. After everything you...experienced. I can't express my gratitude."
"And that's why you brought me into the apple garden, for a second exile?" The mysterious woman made a snarky comment as she caressed the nearest apple.
"It's just that I'm Lucifer's gardener now. It's the safest place for us to speak, as Morningstars do not visit the garden often, so...we should talk here."
"Very well, then...It's been quite a while since we last saw each other, isn't it, Serpent?" She smiled warmly as the mysterious woman put down her hood.
Serpent blushed at the sight of her face. She hadn't changed since that fateful day, resembling Lilith but with a more human-like appearance. But there she was...
Eve: The First Woman of Mankind.
...
It's funny how it comes to this.
After so many miserable years of exile in Hell, Serpent wondered many odd times if he would ever see her again. And now, as the two deceived souls that shaped the tragic history of mankind stared at each other. Serpent now has a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to properly nail the final nail in the coffin. If only it were that easy for him.
The Green Snake opened his mouth several times, only to close it again with no sound. His snake body shook in fear. He was unsure why he was so afraid... afraid to apologize? To tell her he screwed her up? Like in Lucifer's case, Serpent was somewhat proud of freeing Eve and Adam from their father's grasp. But at the same time, the green snake could not provide any excuses for what Eve had been through.
Forcibly raped by Archangel Samael.
Gave a painful birth to Abel, Cain, and later Seth.
Lost Abel thanks to Cain who inevitably became "The Dark Father" of all vampires.
And saw how her later generations of children were ruthlessly destroyed by the great flood caused by Mom and Dad.
The First Woman, despite gaining her freedom, suffered a lot....
All thanks to him.
To merely think that he surrounded himself with abysmal ignorance. Serpent tried to escape from all this. He wanted to start a new life here in Pentagram City, to respectively become Chancellor of the Stygian Council and Lucifer's right-hand. However, he had committed the most tremendous mistake. He looked back at his terrible past.
And Eve became his phantom of personal guilt—a phantom that stalked him most of the time. Even after accepting his snake form, he could not look at miserable sinners: How Eve's children kill each other for some spiteful pennies. His grief caused him to throw away his dreams like a garbage bag. He began drinking to forget and lived on the filthy streets, sometimes hiding in the sewers, as he was the easiest picking for lowlife sinners.
If not for Lucifer's "kindness" that day, he would have died a long time ago. His skin had likely become someone's coat by the time he reunited with Eve. But even as "Lucifer's Gardener" Serpent's phantom stalked him. He fought...He tried resisting...but to no avail.
Only thanks to the Devil's brutality and the words of Azazel did he understand that his Phantom wished for him to be on the right track. Maybe if Serpent can't save Hell and find his redemption, at least he could guide someone who might possess more power to restrain the Devil.
Which now leads to Eve.
Or, correctly, to Heaven to oppose the Dark Lord.
"I-I-" Serpent stuttered—not even for a second could he withdraw his eyes from her..but he ultimately admitted his weakness. "I really don't know what to say, Eve."
The First Woman of Humanity nodded her head in disappointment. She heaved a deep sigh, closed her eyes, and gave a serpent a serious expression.
"Too many years have passed since I last saw you, and yet you can't express yourself? After everything you have caused to me and Adam?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Eve! I'm ashamed, okay?!” Serpent frowned, yet his tone sounded very sincere. "Believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you back then. The Devil, under "God demands it" ordered me to make you eat the Apple. Neither Helel nor I didn't know...we didn't know he was lying!"
Serpent curled up; he delivered a sorrowful look that pierced Eve's heart as well.
"Now look at me, Eve. Look at me!" He used his tail to point at himself. "I'm a fucking snake thanks to Devil's lies. "The Tempter of Mankind" your children entitled me. But I am a fucking worthless little snake who can't do shit anymore! I'm a total useless sack of shit!"
The anger and frustration he let out on Eve made him finally succumb to despair and sorrow. He starts crying, much to Eve's shock.
"I'M SORRY, EVE! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!" Serpent yelped; his venom began to leak from his fangs as he cried.
Eve's eyes widened as she saw him in this state. She genuinely thought the Serpent fully endorsed Hell's Chaos. Now...He was just as broken as she was. Like Lucifer...like Lilith...and everyone else who was used by the devil's own goals.
"Shh...it's alright. Come here." She whispered to him. The first woman then walked over and crouched down next to a broken snake, opening her arms for a hug.
The serpent sniffed again and glanced nervously at her. Initially, he did not want to embrace her, believing he was not worth her affection. But the way Eve looked at him caused him to succumb to her temptations...Karma is a bitch.
But the little green snake didn't care as he crawled closer and placed his head on Eve's shoulder while his tail gently wrapped around her waist.
"Serpent, despite my anger at you and despite my suffering, I would never despise you. I will always be grateful to you for everything you taught Adam and me... you and Uriel will always be in my heart."
Serpent's heart raced when he heard this. Now there she was: classic Eve... and he still felt like a passionate gardener in Eden. He cannot fathom how much he missed the old garden. So many fond memories of Adam naming the animals, Eve trying to count from one to three, and harvesting fruits. He would offer anything to come back to his old life. At the very least, he can retain some of it now that she is here.
"I-I missed you, my little apple-pie." Serpent sniffed. He blushed in shame at saying this. But it made her giggle.
"I missed you too." Eve caressed Serpent's elongated body with gentle movements. "I have a little present for you."
"Present? What for?" Serpent repeated. He felt a little "heart melt" from this. It's been quite a while since he was granted this kind of generosity.
"You forgot? Today is December 25th." Eve smiled in the end.
Serpent narrowed his eyes before it struck him. It's Jesus' birthday, or Christmas, as it's now known. The Green Snake found it strange that Eve's children celebrated the birth of their Messiah as if it were a cult. It sounded rather disturbing from Serpent's perspective. But he heard how Christmas was meant to be a "family" celebration.
"Merry Christmas, Serpent." A pale, holy orb formed on Eve's hands before a small, wrapped gift box appeared on them.
Serpent eyed the gift as if he required her permission. Eve motioned to him to take it with a gentle hand motion. And so Serpent used his tail to snatch it.
"What's inside?" He asked, shaking the box gently, hearing the liquid jump inside.
"Open it. Gifts are meant to be a surprise."
Serpent carefully unwraps and unfastens it with his tail. He raised an object from the box and looked at it with interest. Eve's generous gift was a strange, medium-sized bottle with a liquid inside of it.
"Do you like it?" Eve grinned.
"Um..." The serpent cast a cautious glance at the bottle before returning his gaze to Eve. "What is this exactly?"
"Sun oil. If you apply it to your skin, it makes the scales smoother and more tender, and it works for snakes as well."
Serpent widened his eyes. Well, that was rather unexpected. But it's a welcome gift, considering he can't shed his skin and typically must rely on his lovely, familiar green pattern.
"Oh, thank you, Eve! I absolutely needed this stuff!" Serpent's lips curled into a silly smile. He has a very cute smile for a snake.
"Glad to hear it...I was worried you wouldn't like it." She admitted it with an awkward shrug of her shoulders.
"Ah, I'm enormously grateful for that, my darling." Serpent assured. "But I don't know what to offer in return."
"It's fine, Serpent." Eve assured him wholeheartedly. Her expression then turned serious. She still has a primary reason to be here in the first place. "But it would be best if you informed me why you require my presence."
"Quite indeed! Inform us why, Snake."
A familiar voice came behind them. Eve instantly froze when she overheard his voice. She took a glance at Serpent before, in a swift, fluid motion, turning around and instantly pulling her blaster pistol.
"Lucifer, of course." Eve muttered to herself, bringing her left arm up to support her aim.
The King of Hell left peacefully from the garden's entrance and walked forward, sporting a wide grin. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now-now, Serpent. Why didn't you tell us that the lovely and adorable Eve herself would come to our mansion? I would have baked some apple pancakes for her."
"This is not what it looks like, Lucifer!" Serpent exclaimed, hiding behind Eve's leg.
"Oh really?" Lucifer moved closer to them, making Eve tighten her grip on her blaster. "Well, considering how you are directly aligning yourself with Heaven, I think I have a pretty clear image."
"Back off, Fallen one! Heaven's business does not concern you!" Eve threatened him.
Lucifer only smiled warmly at her aggressive response. Oh, Eve, a beautiful elegant little flower, much like Lilith is. His smile didn't bear any sign of hostility but rather was playful...plus that jumpsuit...doesn't leave much imagination for her curves.
"My, my. Look at you, Eve. Millennia later and you're the oldest young person I've ever met! And coming from an immortal Archangel, that's saying something."
"I said back off!" Eve threatened once more.
Lucifer just laughed at her attempt to frighten him. Oh, how much he dearly missed her. What a wonderful time to have Lilith's little innocent sister threaten her dear brother-in-law.
"Oh, NO!" Lucifer impersonated Eve's voice with a high-pitched voice. "A big, scary Lucifer is going to hurt me. Well, here the little devil comes for you. You better watch out!"
Lucifer then carefully takes a step forward, mimicking the "Jaws theme".
" Dun dun... "
"Back off!" Eve warned, her hands starting to severely shake in fear as she took one step back from Lucifer. Even to this day, Lucifer is unpredictable...
"Dun dun."
"I'm not playing games!" Eve growled, annoyed at Lucifer's game. She took another two steps away from the fallen angel.
"Dun~dun~dun~dun~dun." Lucifer subsequently increased his step pace, making his "Jaws Theme" more intense.
"I'm warning you!"
"DUN DUN DUN Dunnnnnnnnnnnnn! "
Lucifer raised his terrible claws and opened his arms slightly, preparing to give Eve a bear hug. But Eve wasn't the same woman he affectionately knew a long time ago. She didn't buy it because he was just goofing around. And so she pulled the trigger on her blaster.
*BAM*
Lucifer opened his mouth suddenly as an unusual wave of unbearable pain emerged. He looked down to notice a wound on his leg. Eve gasped while still holding her blaster at him. She meant to give him a warning shot to the leg. Her blaster is heaven-forged, but by no means can it hurt the Archangel or any angel in any capacity. She is not quite sure why it wounded him.
Clenching his hand, Lucifer then made a dramatic opera gesture with a raised arm in the mild air, as if he had triumphantly finished his opera play.
"GOOD FOR YOU!" He laughed wholeheartedly, making Eve raise her eyebrows in confusion "See, Eve? Hardly hurts!"
Still having her jaw drop a bit, Eve then lowered her blaster. "I-I can't believe-"
"Gah! Actually-!" Lucifer halted her with his sudden groan. He then raised his finger to point it out. "It's hurting a little bit. it's~" Lucifer stopped again as he was bombarded with more pain. "Gah-it's hurting a lot! I~" And even more arrived for him. "Son of a bitch! It really hurts-"
Lucifer came to a halt when he gently touched his wound and felt it wet. He brought his hand to inspect it. It's now covered in his own blood.
"I'm bleeding..." He whispered to himself. He next looked at her in a very unsettling way. "C-call an ambulance, my dear."
The King of Hell then collapsed on the floor, making Eve gasp once more in worried tone.
"Helel!" Eve immediately rushed to help him out. She gently shook the fallen angel's shapely shoulders. There was no response at all.
"Don't tell me he is dying!" Serpent exclaimed, crawling closer to check on his brother's state. He is also very worried.
"He shouldn't be! My blaster is heaven-forged. It can't kill him!" Eve anxiously questioned why it injured him. She immediately placed her ear against his chest to hear if he breathed. Nope, nothing. He doesn't breathe. She snatched his hand and checked his pulse. The pulse is active at least.
"Oh, thank you, Dad." She sighed in unspeakable relief.
"But he doesn't breathe, Eve." Snake pointed it out.
"No need to worry!" Eve assured him by raising her palm. "Serpent, make artificial respiration for Lucifer! I'm going to apply pressure to his wound to stop the bleeding!"
"Hell no!" Serpent declined, jerking his head in protest. "I'm not going to kiss my brother! I'm preserving my lips for a special someone."
Eve groaned. She can't believe it even in the midst of an extreme situation, Serpent still retaliates...and now she has to do it by herself.
"Fine, put pressure on his wound to minimize it. I will take a breath."
Nodding to the First Woman, the Serpent wrapped his snake body around Lucifer's leg wound, blocking the bleeding for now. Eve tilted Lucifer's head back and, with her other hand, slightly lifted the chin to clear the airway. She again checked if he was breathing. Confirming he still doesn't, Eve took a wary glance at Lucifer's face.
"Goddamn you, Helel." She exhaled, speechless, knowing that she was about to perform mouth-to-mouth breathing for the King of Hell... and to her sister's husband.
Gaining confidence, Eve took a deep breath, descended her mouth to Lucifer's, and exhaled air toward him. Despite what she thought, Lucifer's mouth was rather...fresh and cold. She expected his mouth to smell of meat...sinner meat...and more~ Wait a minute.
His lips twitched.
...
HE SMILED!
Eve immediately pulled her lips away. Lucifer's right eye is now open, staring at her in amusement.
"Oh, you little son of a bitch!" Eve cursed at him. Lucifer grinned more as her shock turned into furious anger. "Fake yourself to make me look stupid, you prick!"
"Not bad, my dear. I would level you with Lilith's kisses.'' He snickered.
"Asshole!" Eve smacked his shoulder before she stood on her feet and turned around, to hide her embarrassed blush. Serpent, too, let go of Lucifer's leg, astounded that Lucifer was awake.
"Oh, come on, Eve! Admit you missed me dearly!" Lucifer raised himself to his feet. He snapped his finger, and his leg's wound disappeared completely.
"How-how the fuck are you conscious?" Serpent in confusion, looked back and forth at them.
"Serpent, you wound me! Do you think some of Heaven's puny weapons would hurt me?" Lucifer laughed.
"Then what's the point of faking your fall?" Serpent growled at him. Like, Eve. Snake is also unamused by this act.
"I merely wanted to see if there was anything left of that adorable little Eve I used to love and cherish for...and she is still here...just like she was in Eden." Lucifer emphasized the last remark.
The previous comment made Eve blush even more. Goddamn that "perfect in all ways" fallen angel. He tempted her back then, and he is still succeeding.
"And so it suggests that your lying outside during the rain was fake too?" Serpent added. It made Eve turn around and glare at Lucifer in confusion.
"Serpent, I'm Lucifer, King of Pride. Not Beelzebub: Queen of Gluttony. Everyone has their own weakness."
"And that explains your fall in a nutshell, morning boy." Eve snickered at him.
"Not a terrible comeback, Eve." Lucifer of course, lied. Her "gotcha" moment was pathetic...and somehow it felt a little bit like Adam's" attitude in her.
"It's Detective Eve." She corrected me with a blunt face. "Or rather: Agent-Detective Eve Primis of the Eye of Providence under "Genesis" codename, if you need to be formal."
"Ahh, Lucifer Morningstar and Detective. Getting rather familiar, isn't it?" Lucifer's goofy smile increased upon hearing this. What a coincidence! Oh, there are so many more opportunities to play with her emotions.
"Disturbingly so." Eve deadpanned.
A very short silence ensued after that as Lucifer continued to stare at Eve with a grin, who in turn avoided looking at him.
"Well, don't just stand here, detective!" Lucifer finally broke the silence, saying, "Come and give your old angel pal a hug."
Eve rolled her eyes. She wasn't certain if it was heartfelt or mocking heartfelt or mocking. Again, knowing him, Lucifer was extremely unpredictable when it came to affection. But considering she needs to keep Lucifer in a joyful mood for his cooperation, she shrugged in defeat. And so Eve came closer. Lucifer was the first to hug her, much to her surprise.
"Been quite a while, my dear." Lucifer gently whispered.
"Yeah, quite a while." Eve nodded, admitting how much time had passed. "How's Lilith?"
"Quite good, actually!" He released her, hands still on her shoulders. "She still has issues with you, Eve."
"Can't blame her..." Eve nodded with a gentle smile. It's a good thing Adam wasn’t here as...well, it was better that way. "How did you know I would be here?"
"Tsk, it's like asking if a bird knows what is going on in his nest when he is currently there. Serpent has not been himself for the past few days. Pretty obvious he is going to scream for Heaven's help."
"Of course, I have not been myself!" Serpent mocked Lucifer's tone. "Because I have seen what is happening in Frozen Circle!"
"Oh, don't be a nancy pansy. These demons worship my dad. Sucks to be them!" Lucifer dismissed Snake's concerns, moving closer to him.
"There goes hypocrisy!" Serpent growled. "When Mulciber found Pentagram City, you told the sinners with all confidence they could do everything! Because in Lucifer's Kingdom, everyone is free to perform what he desires."
"Your point?" He bends forward to Snake.
"Then why am I forbidden to worship God! Freedom of Worship, yo!"
The King rolled his eyes. Too much "people's person" in that snake.
"Serpent, you must realize I am in a bit of a pickle here. When you have the goddamn Devil stareing at you 24/7 and threatens to kill your wife and daughter. Of course, for my own sake, I'm going to be a hypocritical son of a bitch!" Lucifer barked. Eve, in the meantime, stared at them, trying to understand the two brothers' bickering.
"And if it's not Adam, we both know the devil will come for her instead. Charlie's own life is in danger."
"And what-"
"Okay stop!" Eve intervened, completely stopping their arguments. "Serpent asked me to come here to explain something about the Devil. Now, please. Could you all elaborate on what it has to do with my Charlie?"
Lucifer sighed. These two put him in this position. It's a good thing he "murdered" his own shadow earlier to prevent the Devil's espionage.
"It's relatively simple, my dear. My daughter believes in redemptive bullshit. The problem is that both the King of Wrath and my snobbish ex, the Queen of Gluttony, are breathing down my neck and will undoubtedly scream at me once the word gets to them. Plus, there is a fucking cancer that sits in the Treachery Ring all day, and I'm concerned for what he is planning too...oh, and your husband also but who cares really..."
Eve hummed, acknowledging their words. Heaven was quite familiar with both Beelzebub's and Satan's destructive tendencies. As for Charlie, it changed everything.
"This is excellent news, then! If my niece succeeds with her hotel, then it might solve Heaven's own identity crisis."
"You really think Sera or Azrael with Adam would not retaliate?" Lucifer asked in a sarcastic tone, still not convinced. "Please, they are very loyal to Dad's bullshit. For my sake, Azrael never liked you or Adam in the first place, Eve."
"One Archangel and Seraphiel herself doesn't portray Heaven's entire views, Helel." Eve corrected him with a stoic voice. "The extermination problem is rather a controversial topic, even in Heaven. The Messiah himself: Jesus Christ and Archangels like Uriel and Gabriel are opposed to it. Raphael and Michael are neutral, while Azrael is the only one who is pro-extermination."
"Makes sense." Lucifer shrugged as if it were meant to be surprising to him. "Azrael founded the Exterminators organization with your husband. No news for me."
"What about Mom and Dad? They're God and Goddess, after all." Serpent asked.
"It's complicated..." Eve released a breath, difficult topic after all. "Since the rebellion, God doesn't rule Heaven that much. Metatron is his speaker all the time. Asherah is...well...you both know how she was back in the day..."
"Yeah..." Lucifer nodded slowly. "I would want to just live in a bubble like her, not knowing what is going on outside...I envy her sometimes."
"That makes two of us." Serpent commented, smiling.
Silence appeared once more as Detective Eve tapped her chin, thinking further. With some options crossed out, an idea came to mind for her. It's risky, but it might work if they are discreet.
"Lucifer." Eve said this while giving him a careful glare so that the King of Hell could hear her words. "I understand your stance with our Divine Father and Sera... but in these times, it's better to band together against a common threat. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," my children used to call it."
Lucifer's eyes widened in shock as he comprehended what she meant. He burst into a brief laugh before he deadpanned, as Eve's grave expression didn't shift in the slightest.
"You're serious, aren't you, detective?"
"Deadly serious, Morningstar," Eve muttered. "Here is my proposal: We go to Heaven, meet with Jesus, and talk with him regarding Charlie."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lucifer hissed.
"There are no options!" Eve exclaimed. She found no pleasure in Lucifer's ignorance. "Either that, or see your daughter's dreams being ruined either by Adam and his lackeys or by Devil! You're seriously going to endanger Charlie just because of your pride?!"
Great. Eve's last word hit him right in the gut. For the "King of Pride", Lucifer every fucking time feels not himself when it comes to Charlie's topics. Instead of responding directly, Lucifer glanced at the Serpent for his opinion. The Green Snake nodded yes to her offer. Closing his eyes and taking a deep, frustrating breath, Lucifer dismissed his goofiness for now.
"First off, will Dad know?"
"There is a chance...But our Dad is very inactive when it comes to Heaven. I mean, we had a case of a missing person. It took us a week to retrieve him, even with the help of angels. These days...it seems like...God is not here."
"And Michael with Azrael?"
"Michael is busy guarding the throne of God, and Azrael...Azrael does whatever he wants, so screw him." Eve growled at the slight mention of him.
"Yeah, fuck Azrael! That's my Eden Girl!" Serpent gave a full nod of approval.
"Oh, I agree! Fuck Azrael!" Lucifer chuckled at that. He then awkwardly started to tap his cane against the ground as he considered Eve's proposal.
There was no denying that despite the Exorcists being the biggest pain in the ass, there was also an Infernal's side of the problem: the Dark Lord of Hell and Beelzebub with Satan. Civil War in Hell is exactly what Lucifer did not want in the first place... because managing Post-Civil War Hell is time-consuming and inefficient, plus with Heaven breathing down his neck. If Lucifer had been younger, he could have ruled directly...but as time passed, he lost his passion and drive, letting Hell's cog machine run by itself.
But on one side, Lucifer could improvise that way. Say if Heaven did something big that the rest of Hell needed to switch their attention on it than on Charlie, then It would be seen as him being busy on solving that problem rather than focusing on his "unruly heir"
That way:
- Both Satan and/or Beelzebub and Heaven can tear their throats out.
- There is huge chance that Heaven will fail.
- Lucifer will be seen as loyal to Hell's cause, and in turn, his position as King of Hell will be secured from the opposition.
- And eventually, Charlie might return home.
a win-win scenario for Lucifer, in any case.
"Do we have a deal, Mister Morningstar?" Eve humbly offered her a hand.
"Tempting as it may be. But aren't you playing a dangerous game with me, Detective?" Lucifer chuckled delightedly at her. "You sincerely want to send a literal Fallen angel to make a deal with the Messiah?"
"Helel, don't forget. I’m myself a bit of a rule-breaker." Eve grinned. Lucifer returned her smile, knowing exactly what she meant. "Besides, if I ever sign a deal with a Demon. I would choose you no matter what...you're million times the better angel than that Angry Rapist of Wrath."
Lucifer was awed by this kind of flattery. In fact, it pierced him right into his nonexistent heart. "Heh, if you ever do that...perhaps I might go "easy" on your contract. Who said I couldn't be generous to the ones I cherish?"
"Oh! That's good, I guess..." Eve flushed slightly from his comment. "Do we have a deal, though?"
"We have a deal, my apple-pie." Lucifer shook her hand, ending with a kiss on her knuckles, making Eve blush even more and causing her to yank her hand from him.
"Can I come too?" Serpent asked kindly.
"Afraid you can't, Serpent." Eve shook her head, awkwardly touching her collar. "Everyone will question why a literal snake has the Mother of Mankind walking around. It's both a symbolic and terrifying image."
"And nobody will question Lucifer's unusual presence?" Serpent scowled while Lucifer grinned in delight.
"Only angels are aware of his appearance. Don't worry, I have a plan." Eve winked at him.
"Or in short: Eat shit, Serpent. You can't go!" Lucifer giggled. Eve nudged him not to do that.
"Oh, come on. I can be stealthy!"
"Then enlighten me: if we took you both to Heaven. How would you hide your presence?" Lucifer asked, smirking more.
The green snake opened his mouth to answer but closed it instantly as he realized he didn't know. He then brought his tail to his chin, pondering how he would go. Sadly, he didn't know jack shit about "Stealth" and so...he had to accept his defeat.
"You're right." Serpent admitted his defeat. "I've played too many video games to know it won't be pretty. Fine then, Eve...I guess it's goodbye."
"If Lucifer is ready. Then yes."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm ready." Lucifer dismissed her with a wave. "So...I will create a portal for you, Eve."
"I'm afraid you will be noticed by Sera if you create an portal, Helel. Luckily, E.O.P has an different solution. Please stand back a bit."
With her command, Serpent and Lucifer backed off from Eve. She reached for her belt and pulled out a weird grenade. She pressed the button and tossed it not far from her feet. It beeped quickly and released lightning bolts, creating a strange portal out of thin air.
"That's weird," Lucifer commented. Still, that's rather impressive technology.
"Oh, you don't saw it all. You first, Helel." Eve hinted with an mischievous smirk.
Lucifer glanced at the portal and shivered, feeling rather genuinely scared. But he still carefully walked to the portal. He raised his hand and touched the portal surface. His hand miraculously disappeared upon contacting the portal's surface.
"Afraid?" Eve asked with a slight grin. She is well aware that he is terrified.
"Not really. It...feels odd." Lucifer commented. He moved his hand inside the portal, feeling a strange sensation he couldn't describe.
"I see...well some human motivation wouldn't hurt anyone." The detective said to herself as she got closer and pressed her hands on Lucifer's back. "Happy fall!"
"Wha-?"
He didn't have a chance to ask when Eve instantly pushed Lucifer right into the portal. He miraculously disappeared in an instant.
"Did he...is he okay?" Serpent asked, what the hell just happened?
"Physically: yes. Emotionally: not really. I myself was horrified during the teleportation process. You get used to it." Detective Eve explained. She then returned to Serpent and hugged him one last time. "Goodbye, Serpent. It's been a pleasure to see you again."
"You too, my dear. And good luck!" Serpent smilingly replied with an affectionate hug, using his tail.
Gently releasing him and waving goodbye. Eve entered the portal before it closed behind. Serpent is now alone in the small garden, looking around awkwardly. Noticing Eve's gift, he carefully checked if no one was near him and crawled to it. He took the bottle, opened it, and smeared oil on his tail. Like Eve told him, his skin felt smooth.
"Well...won't get a female snake, but this will do for now."
Meanwhile…
"UNHOLY-FUCKING-SHIT!"
Lucifer screamed in unspeakable horror as he fell through the strange interdimensional blue tunnel. The situation for him was literally a second fall from Heaven. The first was terrifying as fuck, and he would never want to go through it again...it seems his wish was not fulfilled. And with no visible sign of the tunnel ending soon, made Lucifer more and more terrified.
"WHAT ON FUCKING EARTH DID I SIGN FOR?" He screamed at himself, regretting everything he said to Eve. "I SHOULD HAVE TOLD I HAVE ACROPHOBIA! SON OF~"
*Ring*
Lucifer completely became calm and pulled out his mobile phone momentarily, accepting the call and bringing it to his ear.
"Lucifer Morningstar speaking!"
"Darling, where are you?" The drowsy voice of Lilith sounded on his Phone. Probably in her bed right now.
"Oh, I just decided to take a walk, dear." He performs a slow flip in the air. "It won't be long. I promise."
"Ok then...Oh, and while you're gone, could you please order a pizza for tomorrow? There is a 24/7 pizza hut somewhere in Central Pentagram. I, unfortunately, didn't come up with dinner."
"Sure, no problem, my love. Pizza with pineapples as usual?"
"You know it." Lilith giggled.
"Alright, have a goodnight dear. Kisses." Lucifer made a smooch sound and hung up, placing his phone back in his pocket. "Now where was I?...Ah, yes...AAAAAH-!"
And so Lucifer continued to scream as he fell. But a few moments later, he caught a glimpse of vivid light before he found himself face-planted against the solid asphalt, in sharp, strong pain.
"Ow...Oww..." He inclined his head, stroking his face. He then rolled over on his back. "Shit that hurts...at least it's over!"
Suddenly, Eve teleported too and dropped right atop Lucifer. Heels first, that is. Lucifer screamed in fierce pain.
"Good gosh, Helel!" Eve worriedly yelped, immediately jumping back to not prolong his suffering. She then crouched down to assist Lucifer. "I'm really sorry!"
"Prompt me to never use teleports again." Lucifer showed his hand in protest. He composed himself before hoisting himself onto his feet.
"Come on, I doubt yours is any better." Eve smugly remarked, placing her hand on her hip.
"There are various types of teleportation methods. Yours is like experiencing a second~" Lucifer stopped as he noted something in his surroundings. "~downfall" He trailed off.
They landed in a back alley; it wasn’t the usual place Lucifer was used to. The ones back home appealed to him more. Here, though? It was all weird neon lights or some futuristic bullshit that Lucifer couldn’t describe correctly.
"Where are we?" Lucifer muttered, looking around in confusion.
"We are in Empyrean, the Capital City of Lower Heaven. Just a back alley on Seth's Street. I teleported us here for a specific reason." Eve then walked to two yellow containers and crouched down to get what she wanted. She got the package and returned it to Lucifer. "A longtime colleague of mine voluntarily left some unused equipment from yesterday's case. Here, put it on."
"Exorcist uniform?" Lucifer chuckled in surprise.
"Uniform of Honor Guard, actually. That way, it could be seen that my son is being courteous. Nobody would even question us."
"Lucifer: The Exorcist. Sounds rather obscure for my own tastes." Lucifer joked to himself.
"You can remove your clothes just between these two." Eve completely neglected his joke and continued further, pointing at two containers.
"Why bother? I would not mind if you observed me while I stripped myself." He wiggled his eyes, making Eve groan in annoyance.
"What part of my face says I genuinely want to see you naked, Helel?" Eve gave a sarcastic question.
"Dang it! You're ruining my plans, Eve!"
"And what is your plan?" Eve replied, bored.
"To have sex with you in front of Adam to spite him more."
Eve slapped her forehead. A serious desire to punch him emerged in her mind. But Eve took a deep breath and calmed down. "Okay, I get it. You want to get into my pants."
"Exactly, detective! Pretty "Sherlocki" of you!" He chuckled delightedly, mockingly leaning closer to Eve's lovely face.
"Do you want to feel some pleasure from me?" She whispered passionately with a slightly flirty voice.
"Perhaps..." He grinned more.
Instead of providing pleasure, Detective Eve slapped his rosy cheek, which was quite painful.
"How is that?" Eve asked without eliciting any emotion.
"Bloody hell!" He rubbed his cheek. Lilith and Eve sure as shit good at slapping. "I dunno...do it again for good measure!"
"Get your ass in that Exorcist uniform before I personally shove an apple down your throat!" Eve pointed at two containers, instead of slapping him again. She already getting tired of his bullshit.
"Sheesh, now I understand why Adam changed a lot. But you kindly asked and I obliged to listen to the lady." He had made a dramatic bow to her before he headed back between the containers.
"And take your time. The uniform itself is pretty difficult to put-"
"Done!" Lucifer came out, already wearing the Exorcist uniform with a mask in his hands.
"Already?" Eve was surprised by how quick it was.
"Eve, I can make Lilith orgasm in 12 seconds. Putting on this uniform is child's play." Lucifer, of course, joked again.
"Surprised your record is not 666 seconds," Eve grumbled.
"That probably will be Adam's record for you, Eve..." Lucifer chuckled, much to Eve's sigh of agony. He then glanced at this mask, finding great irony. "Well, it's time for Exorcist Lucifer to rip and tear!"
When he put the mask on, he saw an interface boot up with a loading bar in the center of his vision. On 100% of the progress bar, it reported an error message.
Warning! The ID Chip is not inserted. Please insert the ID Chip or report to the nearest Exorcist Chaplain for a loss.
"Eve, I can't rip and tear if I see this error in me!" Lucifer complained. He tapped his LCD mask as if to combat the problem. Eve wheezed out as his mask outside made a huge blinking exclamation mark. Knowing the Exorcists, it usually happens for the freshly newly recruits who just putted the armor for the first time....eh, can't really blame them.
"Here, let me aid you. Just stay still."
She came closer and made sure the mask was tightly sealed to the horned helmet. She reached for her belt and inserted a strange chip into an exorcist's helmet. Once again. Interface booted. At 100%, it now shows success.
H.E.V (Heaven Exorcist Vehicle) Mark V
Standby for Main Systems Startup
"Welcome to H.E.V Mark V Protective System: For use in Hellish Environment conditions." The voice of a female AI sounded inside Lucifer's mask. The visor then revealed the image of the entire Exorcist suit.
"High-impact reactive armor: activated!"
In the left part, the screen showed H.I.R.A booting up sub-components.
"Atmospheric contaminant sensors: activated."
Lucifer's Visor screen then switched to Vital Signs being booted up.
"Vital signs monitoring: activated."
"Automatic medical systems: engaged."
"Defensive weapon selection system: activated."
"Munition level monitoring activated."
"Communications interface online."
"Have a Productive Extermination Day, Exorcist."
Finally, after enduring the intricate boot-up sequence, the automated systems came online. Lucifer's vision sharpened, revealing a world unfolding before him.
"How do I look, Eve?" Lucifer examined his gloves, seeking approval.
Eve stared at him with no words. She patiently waited for him to be done with his suit's bootup.
"Eve?" He asked again. No response came from her. Lucifer waved his hand for her attention. This time, Eve reacted.
"Jesus, Lucifer. Turn on your external microphone if you wish to speak with me."
Lucifer shrugged in confusion; his LCD mask showed a question mark.
"Your mask is part of you. If you want to turn on the microphone. Think about it. It's weird, but it's part of the Exorcist training program."
Following her guidance, Lucifer contemplated activating the microphone, and a satisfying click confirmed his success.
"Can you hear me now?" He inquired, receiving a nod from Eve. "Good... impressive technology, I must admit."
"Abel's finest, after all. A lot has changed since your fall. You haven't seen the full grandeur of Lower Heaven," Eve hinted with a crooked smile, pointing towards the narrow gate leading to the primary street.
Reluctantly engaging in her "Game," Lucifer approached the gate, marveling at its automatic opening. Yep, automatic doors – quite impressive. As he cautiously ventured into the main street, Lucifer's jaw dropped at the sight of his ancient home.
Heaven, still a magnificent paradise beneath Hell, had evolved into a colossal futuristic ecumenopolis. Strange flying cars zipped through sky-high rings, spaceships traversed the heavens, and massive dreadnoughts orbited the city.
"Holy molly..." Lucifer cursed within his mask, eyes darting around.
The denizens of heaven, mortal souls, retained their earthly appearances. Some chatted, others strolled with family or friends. Passersby greeted the disguised Lucifer with smiles, bows, or expressions of gratitude for his service.
"Welcome to the Human's Heaven, L," Eve greeted, patting his shoulder. "Time and humanity's progress propelled heaven forward. One day, the mortal world will mirror what Heaven has become."
"Well... Dad always was a bit of a show-off, but this..." Lucifer gestured with his hand at everything in front of him. "This is some sci-fi bull [beep] "
Lucifer paused as a sudden beep emanated from his mask. Why were curse words censored? He glanced at Eve for an explanation.
"You have a profanity filter in your mask. No cursing in Heaven, L," Eve explained, nonchalant.
"Oh, what the [beep] ?! How do I express my freedom of speech? This is some 1984 [beep] stupid [beeeeep] !"
His outburst didn't go unnoticed. A passerby confronted Lucifer with disdain.
"Do you kiss your dear mother with that foul mouth, Exorcist?"
"Please don't intervene in Providence's business, citizen," Eve interjected, diffusing the situation with a practiced ease as the winner shook his head and walked away.
"I swear... I'm going to shove my fist up the person who designed this [beep] !" Lucifer muttered, frustrated. If given the chance, he'd dismantle that Winner's entire existence.
"Let's not do that," Eve urged, raising her palms in a calming gesture. "The longer you're here, the more Heaven might notice. We need to reach the Empyrean Palace quickly."
"Are you sure I'm not on a possible suicide mission?" Lucifer nervously chuckled.
"We're dealing with the Messiah. Our dad has been inactive. Besides, you're here already and Sera is none the wiser. We'll slip by without any problems. Just trust me," Eve assured, her eyes meeting Lucifer's, conveying a sense of assurance beyond words.
"I can teleport us there," Lucifer suggested.
"Again, L. You can't. Hellish powers will be detected momentarily. We have to rely on the classic way: on foot." Eve then retrieved a cylindrical object, activated a 3D map projection, and located a taxi station nearby. "Let's go, L."
"As you desire," Lucifer sighed, following Eve closely while still absorbing his transformed surroundings.
To think he once lived here...Goodness, dad, how much has changed. With the blink of an eye, the rural little home you once knew has been transformed into an entire ecumenopolis. And ironically, in Hell, he felt supreme. Sinners feared him; Ars Goetia dared not touch him...but here...Winners smiled politely, bowed respectfully, or tipped their fashionable hats to Lucifer and Eve. Somehow...
He felt he was being appreciated and loved by the Mortals for the first time...
Chapter 5: The Fallen Among Us
Summary:
"They're just afraid of what they don't understand. That leads to self-protection, and defense always leads to the offense - always." - Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (6 days before the Extermination), 4:12 AM.
Lower Heaven, Seth's Street.
Even in Hell, Lucifer could not forget the familiar breeze of Heaven's gentle wind. Even now, as a futuristic planet-wide city, Heaven at least retained some of its traditional identity. But no matter how many Winners greeted Eve and Lucifer, he felt...he was in a foreign world. Gone were the sacred trees planted by the Serpent; gone were animals from the Garden of Eden; and gone was pre-Rebellion heaven. Only a rotting corpse patched together by complex technology.
And it merely took Lucifer about one hour of his presence in Heaven to realize this. He willingly admitted that the technological progress was impressive. There was no denying that Heaven undoubtedly possessed superiority over Hell in that regard.
But...there was an eerie feeling in Lucifer's gut, like he was being watched every second. It unpleasantly reminded him of that political book Leviathan Von Eldritch once suggested back in the 1960s. "1984" by George Orwell Lucifer thought it was properly called. Charlie used to eagerly read books for Lucifer way back then, and he still remembered the key premise of this particular book. The story of the book takes place in a dystopian world where much of the world has fallen victim to perpetual war, omnipresent government surveillance, and political propaganda.
What's so ironic is that nearly all the premises seemed to apply to Heaven. They have been in perpetual war since... well, since the beginning, that is. The destruction of Limbo in 1920 only fueled the war's subsequent escalation. Come to think about it, it's interesting how "freedom of speech" works in Heaven in general. What if some Winner thinks Lucifer or Satan can be redeemed? Or, may father forbid, some Seraphim? Oh, he would watch the dishonesty develop here.
Fucking Sera... claiming to follow their father's original cause while caring nothing about the Ring of Wrath's growing threat. Not to mention how Lucifer warned Dad LONG AGO about his moral hypocrisy regarding Adam and Eve's specific purpose. Yet they haven't listened... And to think about what would happen if Eve and Adam never ate the apple. Lucifer cannot understand how the mighty being is so...hypocrite at everything.
"Hold on..." Eve warned, stopping Lucifer with her hand. It made Lucifer instantly regain his instincts, as he was busy processing what he was witnessing.
"What's the matter?" Lucifer asked in a low voice not to draw attention.
Detective Eve took a glance to the left part of the street from where they were positioned. Confirming it was, in fact, an obstacle, she gently leveled her finger for Lucifer to perceive what she indicated. There was a police speeder parked with two Winners, talking with a masked Exorcist. Normally, being an exorcist meant being unrecognizable, yet their mask had a feature to recognize the colleague's ID, meaning there was no way to hide your identity from them.
"Can't go there. The Empyrean Police Department is over here. They’re in tight cooperation with the Exorcists...meaning with that Exorcist over there, they would recognize you in no time."
"Surely I can't just beat the [beep] of them?" Lucifer asked with a smirk on his mask.
"Wh-Lucifer!" Eve whispered in protest. "No violence, okay? I'm already one step closer to being banished to Hell with you. "
"Just kidding… sort off.” Lucifer gently forced his hands behind his back. “Now what, Eve? You got to think of possible solutions…you're the one created with a responsible brain, after all."
Intentionally disregarding the previous comment, Detective Eve brought her hand to her chin, thinking. She subtly shifted her focused attention to the front street that goes further. It didn't take her that long to come up with an alternative plan.
"Well...with them as our obstacles, our only choice is to move right or forward... so plan B." Eve turned around to face him. "Do you fancy going with me through the Heavenly theme park? Just through it is another taxi station. It will be quicker that way."
"A theme park, you say?" Lucifer modestly increased his voice's cheerful tone a bit after hearing it. What a coincidence that his "dear" (I'm never wrong at anything) old dad owned a theme park too...Like a dad, like a son…the key question was: who stole the idea first? "Alright, then. I might as well compare my dad's theme park with mine."
"You own a theme park?" Eve elevated her voice in innocent amusement.
"Yep, Lu Lu World. The best theme park in Hell. Brought Charlie many times there."
"I thought it was called Loo Loo Land?"
"That's the bootleg one." Lucifer corrected, there was a slight disappointment in his tone when Eve mistook. "Your old friend Mammon owns it. Thought he could get easy money by copying mine."
"Make sense. I guess. Greed does not create anything new; it only steals it." Eve gave him a little shrug, smiling. "Well, let's see if Heaven's is any better than yours."
"Can't wait to see it…hehehe." Lucifer snickered in a devilish tone. Eve instantly struck his shoulder, telling him not to perform that laugh again.
Together, Lucifer and Detective Eve proceed onward to the main street. Not much happened on their way. There was only one incident where a Winner wanted to report "Cherub Harassment" to Eve. But she dismissed her and advised her to report the incident to the E.P.D. Only a few minutes later, a new sight greeted them: the theme park’s entrance. The sign, in full irony, said "Eden's Paradise" considering with whom Lucifer ventured. All of this gave him a sense of déjà vu. They proceeded to the entrance before Eve stopped and turned around to face him.
"Now that we're here, I'm asking with a whole heart in me to NOT goof around!"
"Sure thing, my dear. And the next thing you will have me do is kiss their feet!" Lucifer uttered a sarcastic remark.
Detective Eve struck her forehead and made her hand run down to her face in mild annoyance. There he went once more with “clown” behavior… and no cooperation whatsoever.
"Alright, repeat after me: You."
"I…” Lucifer played along with a smirk.
"Will not!"
"Will not!"
"Goof around"
"Goof around..."
"Now repeat the full sentence, H."
"I will definitely goof around!"
Eve took a deep breath due to how pointless it was to make him behave. Now, she had to play along with his games.
"Fine then, Lucifer. If you want to play your way, have it your way. At least be a gentleman here."
"To a charming lady? How can I refuse?" He offered to let her cling to his arm.
"Show off..." Eve rolled her eyes. But she didn't refuse his offer.
Wrapping her hand around Lucifer's arm, they both ventured into Eden's Paradise. It was intriguing to Lucifer that there were no entrance ticket sellers. Everyone could freely enter and leave the theme park. Mammon would surely lose his shit if he saw it.
And of course, the theme park was absolutely beautiful. Lucifer was not surprised in the slightest at how attractive, well maintained, and big the theme park was. Perfection was, ironically, Lucifer's dad's top priority. Dad was and will always be a hypocrite in this regard. And now that it's Jesus' birthday, the entire theme park is entirely decorated with Christmas aesthetics. A bit further, Cherubs played the classic "Jingle Bells" song, and some of them danced with Winners, children, etc.
Other Cherubs provided cotton candy for free and even gave Christmas gifts to contenders who participated in their games. Lucifer presumed it was games like "Hide and Seek" as some Cherubs hid in stalls, behind plants, and...one Cherub was in the golden trash bin for some reason.
Even early in the morning, the crowd was enormous. Thankfully, they both blended in with the crowd, as some Exorcists were off duty today. None of them wore any masks, naturally giving Lucifer a slight feeling of welcome relief and mild amusement. For amusement, though, Lucifer witnessed the unmasked monsters in all their divine glory...if they were hideous monsters at all.
Without their LCD masks, the Exorcists were normal-looking Angels/Winners. Currently, they celebrate Christmas with their friends, children, or wives/husbands here in the theme park. Apparently, exorcists could also be in a relationship with each other for some reason. Lucifer noticed an Exorcist couple holding hands while they eagerly watched the distant fireworks display. The female exorcist laid her head on her partner's shoulder, enjoying a passionate moment. Love sure can bloom on the battlefield...
Another Exorcist danced professionally with a female cherub in a slow waltz. As cherubs were noticeably short compared to other angels, she used her wings to prance in the air. The cherub danced very passionately, much like Charlie dances as well.
However, Lucifer didn't exactly care if some low-life Exorcists were having fun. He instead, scouted his fierce eyes around as they walked through the crowd. Oh, so many chances to destroy the Christmas spirit... but Eve's presence forced him to abandon his plans.
Because he feared her? Off course not—why should the King of Hell be afraid of her...yet somehow? He was delighted that he ventured to Heaven with Eve of all people. You get used to Hell's eternal suffering and how every sinner does not give a damn about any celebrations. Here, it's a different spirit. And with Eve, he felt like...he was home in some way. And considering how Eve nearly looked like Lilith. It felt odd...but more in a pleasing way. If Charlie had been present, it would have been as if Lucifer had never fallen into Hell.
"Helel, don't think about it." Eve shattered the great silence by whispering to him.
"About what?" Lucifer raised his eyebrow. He wasn't sure what she meant this time.
"It's Christmas. Let them have fun."
"My dear, you can't just have the fallen angel stay docile here in Heaven." Lucifer gently laughed at it.
"Will you stop with the "fallen angel" excuse? You're neither Samael nor the Devil himself."
"According to Sera, I'm the Devil. Because apparently, I'm the one who [beep] their daily miserable lives." Lucifer gave a pissed-off smirk.
Eve sighed. There he went again with his rhetoric. But the detective shared some sincere sympathy with Lucifer's own grumbles. Even humanity's own mother had some "bad" words that came from her "children" for her tragic downfall.
"I didn't mean to irritate you, Helel." Eve whispered tensely in comfort.
"Neither did I." He smiled back at her. "Between you and me. "Let me be who I am... after all, one of my greatest wishes was granted."
"To see Heaven again?"
"In a way, I guess." Lucifer humbly admitted such a weird notion. "But there are still some wishes left for me to fulfill here."
"Such as?"
"A Threesome with you and Lilith," Lucifer remarked casually. Eve's expression was deadpan; her reaction made him giggle. Oh, how it's so effortless to play with her behavior. Even Lucifer doubted that Eve was that way back then.
"Chin up, will ya. I'm joking...Or am I?” Lucifer assured her before he leaned closer to her face. Of course, he only played with her. Eve is too dull compared to the "good old days". At least she somewhat reacted, as his sarcastic remark earned him a playful shoulder punch from Eve.
"I'm extremely delighted that my sister has a very loyal husband who will by no means cheat on her." Eve made it reassuring.
"Who do you take me for?" Lucifer uttered a sarcastic remark. "Despite the hiccups in our early days, I love Lilith as much as I cherish you, Eve."
"Hiccups?" Eve repeated it in confusion. "I thought you admired Lilith from the beginning."
"I am and still do." Lucifer boasted proudly before lowering it. "It’s just, Lilith had her..."teenage" phase in the early days of Hell. Went to Lust Ring to be with Asmodeus and got bored. Went after Satan for the "Imperatress" title. He didn't enjoy her at first glance, so she went after me. I was not fond of Lilith's nagging to satisfy her sexual needs... but we all changed as we got older...Lilith retired from the "Succubus" thing and took her role as queen very seriously. I became...calmer...and after many years. Charlie became a product of our faithful, pure love."
"Despite your downfall, I can see you found your happiness in hell. It's a good thing, Helel. Family is precious; never let go of it no matter what happens to it. Lilith herself knows"
Lucifer nodded calmly. But alas, it didn’t work for Eve's case…and speaking of it. Eve never said anything about Adam to him.
"You and Adam are still together?"
To that end, Eve remained silent at first, not wanting to answer. But there was a slight trust she had in Lucifer. Despite his notoriety in hell, he had treated her well so far...albeit the jokes were getting repetitive. So she had the courage to voice it.
"We're...rarely see each other these days." Eve said in a whisper at first. "Grief of Abel, that thing with the apple...and Cain's betrayal changed us as well. After we died, we pretty much were so busy... In the end, I became a detective for E.O.P. while Adam is leader of Exorcist's Pride Legion. Obviously you and Lilith knew that already since...you obviously know who is your biggest pain in the ass right now."
"And your children?"
"Seth is doing fine. Abel is...well he is...Grandmaster of the entire Exorcist Order under Azrael's command."
"I thought Adam is the main leader."
"He was for most part, but they switched their places long ago. Adam wanted to be more active in the purges than Abel...and Abel wants to emulate his dad more by becoming the leader of the entire Order. It's a complicated situation on first glance but that's how it is."
Lucifer hummed in response. He had no desire to drag Eve onto that topic. It was best to stay silent on that matter, although he saw Eve wanting to ask further.
"Do you..." Eve bit her lip to prevent her from speaking, but she lost her own battle. "Do you by any chance know how Cain is doing?"
"Rules Caïna in the Ring of Blasmephy. He is the first vampire lord. We barely talk, so that’s all I have known so far." Lucifer said it casually.
"Well...it's at least something." Eve whispered to herself. Although Lucifer overheard it quite well. "I hope-"
Eve stopped when Lucifer hushed her abruptly. His mask made a grim expression as he stared at something in the distance.
"Speaking of our children...let's see the incoming tsunami." He hinted, pointing his finger in that direction.
Eve looked at where he pointed. Apparently, the King of Hell pointed to a shooting gallery that was called "Protect Heaven." To win the prize, you had to shoot the demon targets with a recreational exterminator bolt action rifle. And there was currently a male Exorcist without a mask and a small angel girl staring thoughtfully at the stall. The little angel barely reached the exterminator's thighs in height.
"Sure, you want this, Amy?" The male exorcist asked.
"Of course, daddy! I want the Exorcist plush toy to remember you!" The little girl with angel wings replied with all the energy in her musical voice.
"My pumpkin, why do you need the plush toy when your daddy is the big version of it?"
"But..." The little angel girl gave her father a worried look. "But I barely see you. You're either busy training... and Mom said you won't be at the New Year's Eve party... or you may never return if something bad happens to you."
"Sweetheart," The exterminator cooed, crouching down. Even Lucifer from where he stood could hear the "tension" in his tone. "I will come back, I promise. It's only just...I will be working on January 1... nothing serious, really." He ended up stroking his little daughter's halo, who giggled at her dad.
"Surely it won't hurt to try to, Mon-Ami!" The vendor of the stall appeared from the back door, smiling at them before attaching paintballs to the gun. "My friend over here scored 28 out of 30 sinners. You need just twenty hits for the toy."
The Vendor was a late-nineteenth-century French aristocrat who wore a red cylinder hat, a pencil-style mustache, and a long crimson cloak that covered his entire body.
Interestingly, the way that Frenchmen smiled was familiar. There had been talk about a particular person in hell who sported the same style of smile. However, Lucifer overheard it a long time ago and cannot even recall who it might be.
"You flatter me, Mr. Hazbin." Another Exterminator yielded his cup in the air. He wore striped gray trousers, a beige shirt, a denim vest, and a gray cowboy hat with the Exorcist's feather attached as an accessory. Judging by the gun belt with a revolver on it, that Exterminator might belong to Wrath's Exorcist Legion. Unlike with Pride, they only do the purges once per 5 years.
"Nonsense, my dear Rönne!" Mr. Hazbin raised his hands in a dramatic gesture to give power to his words. He had a transatlantic accent with some "French accent" slipping into his words. "One must admit other skills to know him closely. Make it easier to see your "client" clearer."
"And that's why I don't buy your potions, Trickbetrüger.” Rönne took a sip of his cup.
"Would it hurt to try, though?" Mr. Hazbin grinned, carefully adjusting his monocle so it did not fall off.
"Einem Franzosen kann man nie trauen." Exorcist Rönne chuckled before he changed his attention to his colleague. "But he got a point, though. Try it. It's easier than it looks."
"But...I'm not specialized in ranged weaponry."
"You use a bow though, right?" Rönne shrugged at the negative response of his fellow brother in arms. "Same with a standard rifle. Just aim, pull the trigger, and wolla! Another evildoer is dead! Advice from your fellow Exorcist sharpshooter specialist."
Still unconvinced by it, the exorcist stared at the stall for a few breathless seconds before his beloved daughter tugged gently his uniform. Only at that point did he gently release a shallow breath in crushing defeat.
"Alright, fine."
"Yay!" Amy jumped on her nimble feet, clapping her hands.
The exorcist came forward and gripped the fake rifle. Mr. Hazbin in the meantime, prepared himself to eagerly push the button and extended his hand to signal.
"Ready, my boy? Annnd NOW!" The Frenchman pushed the button.
The targets are stereotypical imps in many "weird poses." It made even Lucifer chuckle at how cartoonish they are. Hypocrisy at its finest
"Okay, why do you take an interest in them?" Eve finally broke the silence.
"You will see, darling."
The Exorcist initially performed well. He managed to achieve ten targets every two seconds. On eleven, however, the targets began to shift left and right, up and down, hardening for him. This time, he didn't perform well. He missed at least five times before the time ran out.
"Stop!" The Frenchman momentarily checked the score. "17 of 30! Rather good! Your prize isssss... a Pencil!"
Mr. Hazbin, despite promptly announcing it with all the genuine enthusiasm in his voice, instantly dropped his "Con Artist" smile. Even he didn't enjoy how the innocent girl got so disappointed, to the point where the little angel began to sniff as well. Even the exterminator disappointedly accepted the pencil.
"Aw, don't worry. You can purchase the plush toy in the shop, sweetie-belle. Just twenty tickets, and that plush toy will be in your adorable little hands." Mr. Hazbin assured them wholeheartedly.
"20 games around the theme park, is what he means, brother." Rönne corrected. It made his fellow exterminator's mouth open in shock.
"Good jolly, Rönne! At least take piety, will ya?" The Vendor complained to his partner.
"Lying is a deadly sin. I'm merely stating the facts." The Gunslinger pointed this out, making Mr. Hazbin raise his hands in disbelief.
The exorcist scratched his neck awkwardly as it was about to rain on him.But he still glared at his daughter before speaking. "Sorry pumpkin. I need to be reported to the academy by the next hour. Maybe next year I will get you the plushy."
"Daddy!" Little Angel began to cry.
"Amy! I-"
"Ain't that beautiful!" Lucifer finally intervened, much to Eve's protest he not do so. "To see your own daughter getting the worst Christmas ever in Heaven thanks to her stubborn father. Existence is a pathetic sight."
"And you're?" The Exorcist stepped forward and urged his daughter to hide behind him.
"It doesn’t matter who I'm, "brother." Not only did you lie to your own daughter about our "sacred" duty, but you also didn’t fulfill her wishes. What I hate more than anything is a liar, a charlatan, someone who doesn't believe in what they say."
"You think it's so easy for you to gain that plushie? How about you do it then if you're so akin to blaming others." The exorcist retaliated.
Lucifer only smiled before he amended his glare at Mr. Hazbin. "Hey, Frenchie. Round for me!"
"Rude..." Mr. Hazbin muttered to himself before breaking into his trademark beaming smile. "Sure thing!"
He again prepared himself to push the button and extended his hand to signal. Lucifer gripped the rifle and aimed it at the targets.
"NOW!"
The bell tingled as the last imp target was shot. Detective Eve herself, from a considerable distance, dropped her jaw upon seeing how quick Lucifer was. Even the Exorcist and his fellow Cowboy opened their mouths in mild shock.
"Umm...That was fast!" Mr. Hazbin bobbed his head to compose himself before he checked the score. "Let's see...30 of 30...just 13 seconds! Jolly good, you're natural!"
"I think I rightfully earned that plush toy."
"With all one hundred percent!" Mr. Hazbin instantly reached for the shelf and willingly handed him the plush toy.
The Exterminator plush toy was ridiculously cute. Of course, it had that creepy smile and a spear sewn on its arm. But good dad, It was so adorable that it might become Charlie's reanimated toy in no time.
Lucifer already imagined it: unlike Razzle and Dazzle, this one will be running around Morningstar Compound, poking every foot he can find with his plushy spear. A good toy to irritate Charlie especially...But...oh well, he couldn’t have the toy with him. It would make Lilith suspicious as to how he got it in the first place. But lucky for him, Lucifer had the quickest solution...
"Here you go, my darling." Lucifer gave it to the little angel. She gasped at such kindness; even the Detective herself, from a distance, was surprised by it.
"Oh! Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU, MISTER!" Accepting the gift, the little angel then hugged Lucifer, much to his shock. Lucifer although weakly, patted her shoulder in response. He still does not get used to being hugged by outsiders...especially by angels.
"I hope you're happy now. Come, Amy. We need to go." Daddy Exterminator tapped Amy's shoulder to let Lucifer go. Giving one last suspicious glare at Lucifer's disguised mask, they left together. Amy, however, waved at the stranger one last time.
Mr. Hazbin tapped his counter, observing Amy before she disappeared into the crowd. The Frenchman himself was awed by this unusual kind of generosity. Even in Heaven, you don’t see it that often from Winners…and so he thought a bit further and decided to act as well.
"You know what? I will provide another plush toy to you for free, knight. Your kindness is an example for all of us! Merry Christmas!"
“Oh…” Lucifer felt awkward. He merely gave it to get rid of the plush toy…and now he had to accept another...great. "Well…much obliged, Merry Christmas to you, good man."
Lucifer decided to accept the generous gift anyway. He willingly gave a pleasant nod and departed from them immediately.
When the mysterious exorcist left, Rönne laid his empty cup on the stall and came closer to the Frenchman who was in deep thought. His partner's puzzled expression was clear to the Gunslinger that he was not okay.
"Why a change of heart, pardner? I can see ya rather...tense."
The Frenchman looked down, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Oh, Rönne. You know how difficult it is to live with your gruesome past. When that Exterminator mentioned parents' lying to their children...it caused me to remember my own boy. He never knew who his own dad really was."
"Here you go again..." Rönne frowned at him. "1888 was a long time ago. Past is past. It doesn't define who you are, Herr Hazbin."
Silence ensued as Mr. Hazbin twisted his glare away from the Cowboy's face. He knows his “Guardian Exterminator” wanted better of him. But even after finding his redemption in Heaven, the Frenchman could never forget what he did in his “famous” early days in the Never Sun-Setting British Empire, London.
Monsieur Darnell or Mr. Hazbin left a legacy that, to this day, is still undiscovered. Many tried…many fingers pointed at false suspects on that “infamous” night. Still were not close enough…only Heaven truly knew who Mr. Hazbin was behind his warm smiley face as a con artist…but they forgave him. And three of the five unfortunate souls forgave him…telling that as long as he was a changed person…he was forgiven.
"Je sais, cher garçon, je sais." Mr. Hazbin gently nodded. "Sorry for dread...I just...I miss him sometimes."
"Ja...me too." Rönne sighed as he leaned against his stall. "He was a good kid. It's a real shame that things turned out that way...without Limbo...there is no chance for him..."
“This whole situation is comical to me….” Mr. Hazbin smirked as memories of his old life flashed before him. "He barely knew me in person…yet Mon chéri and I argued frequently back in 1913 what to do with his life. All I wanted was for him to have a good life…to be a journalist in France. Should have moved him to Old Orleans in the end...at least we would die together from the mustard gas... now we are separated by two opposite afterlives with no chance of redemption for him."
“Don’t give up, Herr Hazbin.” Rönne leaned against the counter. "My mama used to say to me a quote that stuck in me: Rönne, nichts ist unmöglich. Denn es gibt immer Hoffnung...Die Hoffnung liegt in träumen, in der Vorstellungskraft und im Mut derer, die es Wagen, Träume in die Realität umzusetzen."
Once he ended, Mr. Hazbin smiled at his friend before he laid his hand on Gunslinger's shoulder. "Care to translate, dear boy?"
"Right...forget you don't know Deutsch" Cowboy chuckled as he gripped his belt to adjust the holster’s position. "But it's something like this: Rönne, nothing is impossible. For there is always hope...Hope lies in dreams, in imagination, and in the courage of those who dare to make dreams into reality...ironically...she was right in the end for two of us."
"Your mama is a smart woman, Rönne. Words to live by."
"Eh, brought their knowledge from Austro-Hungary and the German Empire. The United States is nothing like Europe is...and yet they never lived long enough to see their own son become an outlaw of the dying west…barely see them even today to hide the shame." Rönne had grimaced at himself before he straightened his back. "But enough of that." The Gunslinger reached for the shelf to get two cups of milkshakes "Let's raise our toast for the coming 2020! To a new decade!"
"Oh, I raise for that!" Mr. Hazbin accepted the cup, raising it in the air. "Toast for a New Decade, Hello 2020!"
"And let it be the best year for a new decade!"
After dealing with that pathetic excuse of "Parenthood", Lucifer returned to where Eve waited. When she noticed her, she grinned at him, probably the best grin he had ever had From her.
"What?" Lucifer asked why she grins at him like that.
"L.M himself took pity on a little girl. My-my!" Eve crossed her arms, still grinning at him. She tilted her head as if she had won the dare game.
"Piety?" Lucifer smirked at her words. "Nah, from this day on, she will question her dad's every move. Ruined their family, you see."
"Sure, as if nobody questions their Exorcist parents why they are leaving on December 31."
"Trust me; I've been doing this a long time. I know evil."
"Sure you do, L. Sure you do." Eve didn't take him seriously.
"Want my proof?"
"Hit it." Eve shrugged.
For his most hideous, atrocious, and greatest evil act, Lucifer offered her the plush toy, much to Eve's own disappointment.
"Your greatest evil, huh?" Detective Eve smirked, expecting a "banger" from his "evil" deed.
"For you? Obviously, my dear. I am tempting you with the toy."
"Haha, very funny, L." Eve made a fake laugh, only to raise her eyebrows in confusion as Lucifer still stubbornly offered her the toy. "Okay, seriously, what's the catch?"
"Take it."
"You're giving it me?" She repeated it in amusing disbelief.
"Well, it's Christmas, Eve. Christmas is meant to give everyone gifts. Why shouldn't I?"
Detective cast a careful glance at Lucifer before shifting her gaze to the toy. A minute later, Eve reluctantly accepted the gift, taking it from his hands.
"See? That's the greatest evil I ever committed...I tempted you twice."
"Ha! There won't be any "downfall of mankind" for you this time." Eve joked before she glanced at the toy, lifting her pleasant smile. It made Lucifer smile again. Eve was very adorable when her mood swung up. "I suppose I must provide something in return."
"I'm certain you will figure it out." Lucifer's mask wiggled its LCD eyebrows.
"Oh, no, you don't. I'm not bedding you." Eve gives a direct response, but she is not serious either. "But here, since you've been so pleasant. I will make an exception just for you." The detective then kissed her fingers and pressed them to Lucifer's mask, a little reward for his gentlemanly behavior.
"I hoped for something bigger, but this will do..." Lucifer mischievously flirted. Eve, on the other hand, just giggled quietly at that.
"Don't jinx it; you have your own wife. Come, we should not linger."
"Hey, you in the mask! Hold it right here!" A robotic voice came from far away.
The detective checked to see what was going on. It seemed the two exterminators hastened themselves to where Lucifer and Eve were, pushing or asking some Winners to clear the way.
"Trouble arrived." Eve cursed at herself. "Run to the exit. I will distract them."
“You su-?”
“Go!” She hissed at him.
Wasting no time, Lucifer entered the crowd and proceeded to the exit as quickly as possible. One exterminator came up to Eve while another followed him, desperately trying to catch up through the dense crowd. He nearly reached the exit when another Angel landed in front of Lucifer, obstructing the path for him. He folded his mighty wings and rose to his feet.
"Gabriel..." Lucifer frowned fiercely inside his mask as he recognized who this was.
The third oldest of the five main archangels. Archangel Gabriel was a high-ranking messenger from Dad himself, quite possibly the highest of them all. Some Winners awed at the sight of one of their Creator's closest sons. But Gabriel gently showed them a hand to move along, meaning he is busy talking with them.
"Going somewhere, bud?" Gabriel grinned. Yep, Gabriel was still the same. Despite being an archangel, he was a bit...too "Human" if that makes sense.
Lucifer had no chance to answer when the exterminators surrounded him, leveling their spears at Lucifer. The same exterminator who was with Amy is here as well.
"It's him, Archangel Gabriel. He has an unauthorized ID signature." One of the exterminators politely explained it to Gabriel.
Nodding to the soldier, albeit in the “I don’t care” motion. Gabriel then glared at Lucifer. "Well, what's your ID number?"
"It's 1142-eat my ass, Gabriel!" Lucifer growled fiercely at him.
Gabriel chuckled at the clever joke. "Ha! Normally with Adam's Exorcists, I expected either 69-Fuck Lucifer or Dickmaster101. Eh, close enough. You have my official Archangel seal of approval.” Gabriel smiled before he turned his glare on the other Exorcists. “Remove his mask, purging lads."
The two exterminators gripped Lucifer's arms to prevent him from doing anything foolish. The King of Hell could have used his powers easily to finish these foolish Exorcists…but that would have caused more problems.
Once they removed his mask, the exorcists gasped. They backed off immediately and raised their spears closer to Lucifer’s exposed face. Despite the fact that most of the Exorcist's arms began to shake in fear, some of the theme park’s visitors also displayed curiosity and stared at Lucifer. None of them were sure what was going on, as Lucifer’s exact appearance was unknown to Winners.
"Sweet Asherah's tears..." Gabriel blinked at least three times upon seeing Lucifer; it was a mix of shock, surprise, and confusion.
"Your orders, sir?!" Exterminators asked their superior.
He didn’t reply instantly; instead, Gabriel took a glance at his brother and frowned at him as if he were sorry for what he was about to do. Lucifer, with his own fearful expression, asked him not to do so. However, Archangel raised his hand as a signal...
Exterminators prepared themselves, only to see their leader waving his hand in a circular motion, ordering them to stand down. They too lowered their spears in compliance, although they were confused as to why. Even Lucifer was surprised…he was sure Gabriel would have ended him here and now? Why is he stalling?
"Um, sir..he is~"
"No, he is not him, XAQ-145!" Gabriel dismissed him. "It's Luke Mergen; worker here in Eden's Paradise! He is a Lucifer Morningstar cosplayer and meant to disguise himself as the Exterminator to perform his infamous act of betrayal in the afternoon.”
“Are sure, my Archangel? He looks-“
“Are you defying the Messenger of God?” Gabriel asked; there was no threat in his tone.
“Of course not! But I thought-“
“XAQ-145, do you understand that you wasted my time? I could have gone and watched the "Avengers" final movie."
"But I...My apologies, sir. I didn't know." Exterminator lowered his head in defeat, displaying his guilt.
"We all learn from our mistakes. The rest of you get ready for the coming purge or whatever you do these days."
Saluting their Archangel, the Exterminators departed. Gabriel phewed in relief. It’s great to be an Archangel… fewer questions asked for him that way. Making sure the Exterminators are not in their vicinity, Gabriel got closer to his brother and placed his arm around Lucifer's shoulder as if he won a daring challenge.
"Well, "Luke". I don’t know how in our dad’s name you got here~” Gabriel then slammed his mask against Lucifer’s chest. “~But it's best if you leave as soon as you deal with your business with Eve. Otherwise, Michael or Azrael might sniff you out. Ciao, Sparkles!"
Without a word, Gabriel let go of him and moved away. In his way, he tried surprising Eve with a “tickle” attack, but she dodged his hands, giggling at his attempt. Her quick reflexes earned a thumbs up from the Archangel himself. Ultimately, he extended his wings and flew away to the sky after moving a little further for a certain distance, leaving a very confused Lucifer in peace.
"The fuck just happened?" Lucifer pondered this before reapplying his mask.
"That's Gabriel saving your ass, L." Eve came to him. Lucifer was about to ask, but Eve beat him to it. “Got lucky myself; they just asked me why you have an unauthorized ID chip. Tell me to confront you with them.”
"And why would he do that?"
"It's a long story. I‘ll explain once we get into the taxi speeder. Let's go before any other Archangels decide to visit this place." She gestured for him to follow her.
"Yeah…we should." Lucifer shook his head, still feeling rather tense. Damn, he was frightened. It would rain all kinds of trouble on him if Heaven learned of his presence here.
Leaving the park through the back exit, they reached the taxi post. Only one speeder is parked here, making Eve feel easy on herself. She reached for her belt, got a card, and inserted it into Speeder's access slot. It flashed green before it automatically opened the door.
"Hop in, L. I will drive."
Lucifer, as he was told, took the front passenger seat. Eve herself walked to the other side of the speeder, opening the driver's seat door.
"Mom!"
Eve was about to take a seat when she heard someone call her. She turned around and sighed because it wasn't the best of times. A tall man in his late 20's, wearing a decorated Exorcist uniform with a cape on him, walked up to her.
"Oh, hey, Abel. What brings you here?" Eve questioned her son.
"Archangel Raphael visited your office earlier this night. Didn't find you, and so he told me to provide you with the reports." Abel offered the documents.
"Something wrong?" She instantly opened it to check the report’s content.
"A strange spark of demonic activity has been observed in the People's Republic of China, in the Wuhan region. It's confirmed that Beelzebub's demons are involved. Raphael wants you and the entire E.O.P to investigate."
Lucifer overheard it quite well. His sister, Beelzebub is not very active when it comes to making her own decisions. Meaning someone else might order him. Lucifer already knows who it might be...no need to be smart to know it's the Devil himself who executes the moves.
"Right, I will look into it in my spare time, son. I'm busy with another lead." Eve explained.
"Something serious?"
"Very, we need to see the Messiah first to talk about it. Will notify E.O.P later."
"Right, I won't disturb you then." Grandmaster Abel calmly nodded as he turned around to leave their premise. "See you around, mom."
"You too." Eve returned it before she immediately took the driver's seat, closing the speeder's door.
"More paper work, huh?" Lucifer smirked.
"You tell me..." Eve returned it, not forgetting the task. She then inserted another card to where the key ignition slot typically is. A logo of a transportation service appeared on Speeder's panel:
Exodeus Corporation
Making sure you won't feel Moses' burden since 1836
The screen then switched to an image of a holographic cherub. The female cherub smiled before she opened her mouth to greet the newest clients.
"The blessing of our creator is upon you. Welcome aboard this Exodeus Service. With Exodeus, we are making sure you won't feel Moses' burden since 1836. I'm Milly: the friendly AI cherub. Please let me know if you have any questions."
"Great. A [beep] AI.” Lucifer rolled his eyes.
"I see no reason why you should use profanity." AI Milly expressed herself without emotion.
"Oh yeah?" Lucifer dared. Eve was about to intervene, but Lucifer blocked her mouth with his hand "Hey, robot! Tell me about God."
"God is something that cannot be expressed through words or action. All you need to know is that he is great. He is almighty. He is eternal. He is all and one."
"Ohohoho...let's say If God wanted to fuck you. Would you accept it?" Lucifer continued, and Eve muffed in protest, trying to push Lucifer's hand away. No success.
"I'm sorry, I cannot follow your question."
"Ha! Proofed you're an ignorant machine."
"Understandable, Have a Nice Day." Milly: The female AI Cherub turned herself off.
"Idiot!" Eve yanked his arm from her mouth. "It's supposed to get us to Citadel!"
"Hey, I'm a walking disaster, Eve!" Lucifer shrugged. "You should have known this already."
Eve hissed but didn't say anything back. Instead, she gently leaned closer to the panel. "Hey, Milly. Speak to me, please."
Once again, the Milly screen appeared. "Blessing of our creator is upon you. Welcome to -"
"Yes, yes. We overheard it already." Eve interrupted; Milly nodded with a never-ending smile of hers. "Please, take us to the Empyrean Citadel."
"Certainly. Before we commence our journey, I must verify all the identities of our customers. Please insert your ID cards into the speeder's main slot for analysis."
"No time for that," Eve muttered to herself. "Milly, Emergency Override Z-31-46-17A, Code Yellow."
A yellow bar appeared below Milly’s screen. It blinked in a greenish color. "Emergency Override confirmed. With Exodeus, we are delighted to serve God's agents! Thank you for choosing us! Starting engines now."
Milly then turned herself off completely this time. The taxi speeder came to life as every electronic component activated and the engines began to hum in a ringing sound. Taking the joystick, Eve flicked some switches on and lifted the Speeder into the air. She carefully ascended the speeder above the skyscrapers before the speeder joined the Heavenly Highway air traffic.
"It will take a while for us to reach there. Relax for now." Eve addressed him before she brought her attention to their AI companion. "Hey, Milly. Turn on Paradise FM."
"Certainly! Turning Paradise FM!" Milly's voice replied around them.
Yards of The Moon - Volcano The Sailor (Połoz) (Night FM)
Lucifer expected “In the Name of God” by Powerwolf to be playing, but the radio plays some weird futuristic song that has no association with Christian music. Eh, not bad...but still, nothing beats the good old polka.
Taking the advice, Lucifer finally removed the mask and relaxed against the comfy passenger seat. Leather seats are the best material for comfortable adventures in any car out there. They both remained silent as Eve was busy with... the road...or highway line, in the air. Bah, Lucifer does not know what they are called. He's too old to bother with the futuristic features his old home has.
He took a glance at what was happening outside. Being so high in the sky, you could see the Empyrean in all its futuristic glory. Lucifer was last seen in Heaven's Sky... ages ago. Of course, he still used his wings whenever he wanted. But nowadays he's used to demon teleportations. It's a far better travel solution than exhausting yourself with your wings.
“I can’t imagine how anyone here gets a good sleep,” Lucifer commented.
“Most of the buildings are soundproof. So, you can feel like you’re in a little rural home that we used to call Heaven.” She continued to explain while keeping an eye on the traffic.
“Miss the old Heaven, huh?” Lucifer grinned at her. Looks like he is not the only one who shares the same views.
“Eh, kind of. Still the same old place…just different.”
"Last I checked, Heaven wasn't a massive, one-planet-wide metropolis."
“Not everything here is planet-wide, you should look deeper.”
“And that’s what she said…” Lucifer chuckled, making Eve groan in annoyance. "Well...we made it, though. Just Empyrean left, and I’m good to leave this forsaken place." Lucifer put his arms behind his head, stretching himself.
"There are still the Empyrean Guards left to deal with." Eve made a little song for him as if she mocked him.
"Hey! At least give me the feeling of a win, will ya?"
"Right...said Lucifer before he got kicked out…again."
“As if they won’t question you, my darling apple-eater.”
“I have some cards up my sleeve, my dear morning boy.” Eve returned the sassiness. But she quickly regained her professionalism. “In any case, Uriel will help me.”
“Uriel?” Lucifer dropped his humor in an instant when she mentioned her. “Is…will she be here?”
"Of course, Archangels continue to serve our father... for the most part. Gabriel became a little too self-sufficient...Poor Collin is filled with paperwork nowadays.” Eve smiled.
“Good to know then.” Lucifer sounded tense; he rested his elbow against the window and covered his mouth with his hand. He kept staring outside.
Oh, this was not good…or, more accurately, Lucifer didn't know which was true for him. Out of Lucifer’s closest relatives in God's family. There was always a strong sibling bond between him and Uriel. She is the only one who took his concerns about Dad very seriously and got his back whenever he needed comfort. In some way…if not for Uriel’s sisterly love, Lucifer would have succumbed to Hell’s chaos…like the rest of his fallen brothers did…
Once again, they had fallen into great silence. The radio played some quiet sci-fi music for them, easing at least some awkwardness. But the music abruptly stopped a few minutes later when the news intro began to play.
“Good morning, Heaven! As always, I'm Metatron; news spokesman for the Heavenly Ministry of Truth, bringing some fresh news from our God’s creation, Heaven and Earth.”
Eve raised the volume of the radio. Lucifer became intrigued as well...who knows if he might hear how “THE DEVIL INVADED OUR SACRED LAND” or some shit.
“Today, at 00.00 AM in Excelisius Plaza. Supporters of the Anti-Exorcist Campaign have organized a protest against the annual Exorcist "suppression" against the realm of fire. So far, the protesters have claimed that it causing the damage. Quote “Many Winners watch how their relatives in Hell are being torn off by our own protectors. We are supposed to spread a message of God’s love, not his wrath.” Quote, end. Currently, So far, there have been no incidents. We still have no words from Lord Azrael himself to comment on that. Instead Father Adam himself provided insight.”
As soon as Eve heard that, she immediately turned the volume up to hear another round Adam bullshinting his way regarding the extermination.
"Little snowflakes is what they're, acting all high and mighty when they done nothing but bitch about us! I mean come on, people! Do you know how many times I received a complaint that we're commiting genocide? It's DOZENS. Once more I repeat that everything we do in Hell is legal and approved by the Elders Of Heaven, yatta-yatta...now does anyone want milkshakes?! No-one?...well your first man wants! LUTE, GET ME YOUR TIGHT ASS OVER HERE AND- *abrupt cut of feedback*
There was a short pause before Metatron spoke again. Probably Metatron switched his gaze at other cameras like that 666 newswoman does too.
"Now for Earth News: The 2019 Hong Kong Protests are still raging as speak. After much discussion, the Elder Council has decided not to intervene in Mortal's affairs. Meaning so far, World War 2 was the only conflict when Heaven officially intervened. A Daily Reminder for our listeners, the 2019 Hong Kong protests were triggered by the introduction of the Fugitive Offenders Amendment Bill by the Hong Kong government. This led to concerns that Hong Kong residents would be exposed to the legal system of mainland China, thereby undermining Hong Kong's autonomy and infringing on civil liberties. It set off a chain of protest actions that began with a sit-in at the government headquarters on March 15, 2019, a demonstration attended by hundreds of thousands on June 9, 2019, followed by a gathering outside the Legislative Council Complex to stall the bill's second reading on June 12, which escalated into violence that caught the world's attention. For more information, please visit our Heavnet: TTT.MinisteryOfTruth.com”
Once again, there was a slight pause before Metatron spoke. “And that’s all for now, folks. Join us today in our stream broadcast as the Christmas Festival will officially start at 18.00. Gather your ancestors and your closest relatives, and enjoy the celebrations. This is Metatron of the Ministry of Truth. Merry Christmas to all of you. Signing off.”
Eve turned off the radio and released a breath. “Now you see why we are dealing with the Messiah rather than the rest of heaven, L. Heaven is..divided. We have Azrael and Adam, who believes in extermination as a solution to our enemy. Others advocate détente with hell and a peaceful existence."
“Oh, so it seems history repeats itself, huh?” Lucifer smirked at the irony, not to mention the hypocrisy he heard from Metatron, which was like a choir for him. "Now it all makes sense. You think Charlie would be a trump card for your cause, so you answered Serpent’s request. You’re using me as I am using you." The fallen angel produced a faint chuckle, finding it adorable. "I clearly underestimated you, my dear. You learned a lot.”
“I had a good teacher, both of them, actually.” She winked at him. “But we will both get what we want. You have your title and grip on Hell secured. Me: Azrael's step down from Heaven’s politics.”
“Why do you want Azrael to be ousted?”
“Simple: It’s Azrael's blind service to our Dad, Lucifer. Since the rebellion, your brother has been fueling Heaven's Militarism for the most part. Exterminations were his idea, Great Crusaders of the Medieval era too. He believes in this stupid sin system. This “sin” system is so broken I can’t even fathom how much it’s corrupted. What does it matter if you clicked on the link of an erotica website once in your lifetime? But apparently, by Azrael’s standards, he is already a sinner even if he never killed anyone. MEANWHILE, A lot of the Crusaders who killed Jews in the 11th century were pardoned by Azrael personally…This is messed up in so many ways, L....and Sera is stuck in perpetual neutrality in all affairs."
“Now you sound like a true rebel.” Lucifer smiled.
“Not a rebel, Lucifer. I can see Heaven’s double standards, but I’m not going to raise my weapon against the system. Heaven is broken, and I'm aiming to fix it. And if Charlie will redeem sinners…we have better chances to make things right and turn Heaven into a right cause.”
“If I were you, I would not rely on her that much.” Lucifer groaned at it. “Charlie is a dreamer, a dreamer who questions my own authority…”
“So, A King of an Afterlife’s offspring questions her father’s authority? Are we going full circle again?” Eve had to point out the great irony.
“No, I had a reason back then! Charlie has no authority to question me.” He was baffled by how ignorant she is by comparing his and her similarities...
“You said the same thing to our dad, Lucifer,” Eve said with an amused tone.
“Enough, one word on that and I…will jump out or something...”
“Note: Suicide is not an answer to any problem, even in heaven. To ensure the safety of the passengers, I’m locking the doors until further notice.”
“Thanks, Milly!” Detective Eve smirked at a pissed-off Lucifer.
“With pleasure, Client feedback is appreciative!”
Lucifer just ignored them both and turned his glare away. It won't be long for Eve to break the silence.
"What I can't understand is why are you against Charlie's dreams?" Eve added, still wanting to hear more.
Lucifer growled to himself. What does he need to tell? That Charlie is stupid sometimes? That she is going into her own rapid hole like Lucifer did in his youth?
"Listen, Detective. No offense, but I'm not asking about Cain either. Best to leave it that way"
"Alright...if it makes you feel better." Eve closed the case, taking a deep breath as she put her attention on the road. Lucifer kept staring out the window, at his own reflection... switch with Charlie, and there is no difference...
Same angel with big dreams.
Same defilement of their dad's work
Same eventual downfall...
And the Primordial God will profit from their failure...
Chapter 6: Sins Of The Fathers
Summary:
"Admit: you failed Lucifer, you failed Michael, you failed them all...Not surprising isn't it? You both never meant to play "parenthood" with them...the three of us are destined to be alone in this Universe YOU both created..." - Devil: The Dark Lord Of Hell to God and Asherah.
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (5 days before the Extermination), 5:28 AM.
Somewhere above Lower Heaven.
"Sing a song, Eve."
"No!"
"Sing a song, Fathedammit!"
"I said, no!"
"Sing a song, Detective! That's a direct order from Archangel Helel himself!"
"Go screw yourself, Lucifer!"
"Ha, too late! Your twin-sister already "screwed" me over plenty of times!"
Defective Eve growled at herself, the bruises already having formed on her sleepless eyes due to not having had proper sleep for the past twenty-four hours. Worse, that fallen angel kept playing recklessly with her nerves for his own amusement.
Lucifer's little games started due to boredom in their speeder. Reaching Empyrean Palace, even with the flycraft, naturally took around two dull hours from where they teleported. Even with Milly's expressive companionship, Lucifer himself got quickly bored with her. He genuinely tried debating with Milly about "the purpose of existence” for AI. It was an awfully straight-forward conversation, as Milly wasn’t programmed to be an "amusement toy" for the fallen angel.
Then he tried playing with Eve's Exorcist Plush Toy, role-playing as a hypocritical exorcist who screamed "Deus Vult" when he killed something. Eve presumed it was for the sake of showing Christian bias to her, who in turn tried to ignore Lucifer's games, concentrating her view on the traffic.
He eventually gave up on Eve and just listened to the radio, occasionally slamming the back of his head against the seat's pillow for his own amusement. To be fair to him, Eve can't really condemn him for this odd behavior. Even before venturing into Hell for the Serpent's urgent call, Detective had to work nearly sixteen hours a day this weekend. With a "cold war" between Hell and Heaven, E.P.D. and E.O.P. were heavily focused on defending Earth from Hell's corrupting influence, resulting in double shifts for all personnel.
And so, out of nowhere, from Lucifer's perspective, Eve started to hum Rag'n'Bone Man - Human. Although she didn’t have Lilith's flawless singing voice, Lucifer admitted that he was curious if she had "potential" in that field...Round 2 of "Lucifer Annoys Eve" was imminent.
"For Christ's sake, Lucifer. You were the best archangel, and you behave like a child!"
"Like I told you, I'm walking disaster, my apple-dear. The greatest disappointment since creation." Lucifer sarcastically commented.
"The Greatest Disappointment", my ass..." Eve mumbled his final words to herself in disbelief before raising her aggressive tone toward Lucifer. "Even after the rebellion, you gained more than you lost. And please stop demanding that I sing for you!"
"Nope!" Lucifer said in an instant.
"YOU-!"
In anger and with all of the frustration she gained from him, Eve raised her left fist in the air, wanting to slap that grinning angel for keeping pestering her. Yet she only lowered it and sighed in defeat, realizing he was just...in her children's practical terms: "trolling" her. After a minute of deafening silence, Eve awkwardly ignored him... or tried to.
"I'm waiting, little Eve." Lucifer slowly sang, his cheerful tone showing he wouldn't just let it go.
Eve, who realized he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted, then, without making direct eye contact with Lucifer, inhaled to start her song:
"Oh, there once was a traitor named Lucifer: The Morningstar,
Who came riding to Heaven from old Hell
And the braggart did swagger and brandish his tongue,
As he told of bold Lies and Pride he had made.
But then he went quiet, did Lucifer: The Morningstar,
When he met the shield-protector Michael, who said;
"Oh, you talk and you lie and you steal all our virtues,
Now I think it's high time that you fall down and bleed!"
And so then came clashing and slashing of steel,
As the brave Angel Michael charged in, full of zeal.
And the braggart named Lucifer was boastful no more-
When his sinful presence rolled around on the Hell!
"Happy now?!"
Lucifer blinked at least twice before his smile increased. "First and foremost, I had no idea they had written a mocking song about me. Second, my dear, I'm surprised you became a detective in the first place. You have the talent to be a singer!"
Eve shook her head. "I doubt Heaven wants to see me perform. Worse, they would throw their tomatoes at me for that "apple" thing."
"Aww, why so grim, Eve?" Lucifer tsked at her mockingly. "Apples are delicious pieces of fruit. If you want, I can ask Serpent to bake-"
"Lucifer!" Eve snapped at him, only to pause briefly before gently adding. "Just stop it...please."
Lucifer remained silent on the subject. He, of course, knew why she behaved like that, as her depressed expression gave out her "inner conflicts." Normally, he would push her further, as Lucifer admitted he got satisfaction from it. But even the fallen angel decided to drop it out of sympathy for her. She said earlier that, unlike Lucifer and Lilith, Adam and Her had a far worse banishment. Although he could argue on some parts...he agreed in general.
Even after countless of centuries have passed since the Garden of Eden incident, Lucifer still sees how the First Woman of Humanity still felt guilty. Being the first, she gave birth to Humanity. Of course, mothers commonly guide and discipline their children. But Eve... instead cursed her child. Even today, that child suffers greatly as a result of their mother's crimes.
And like some dramatic opera plays, their pain continued. Their firstborn son brutally murdered his younger brother, causing Lucifer's dad to banish Cain and send him far away from the rest of his family. In time, Cain and his wife had children, and other sons and daughters of Adam and Eve married and bore children.
As humanity multiplied, the selfish, rebellious tendencies of Adam and Eve brought increasing violence. Worse, in the third generation, it got far worse. No doubt that was the Devil’s number one goal. Humanity began calling on the name of "God" not as an act of pure worship, but in a blasphemous, disrespectful way in a corrupt form of religion. God's worship was diminished. The Devil's rose instead.
Then came the great flood, much to Lucifer's delight at Dad's double standards, and it was a... terrifying sight. If the King of Hell felt it was horrifying, he could only assume what Eve felt when she observed it from Heaven.
Of course, everything that happened to Eve was not an accident, as Lucifer would have wanted to believe. Deep inside, he could not help but feel...piety for her. With Eve being practically identical to Lilith, it brought extremely disturbing feelings for him.
"Eve..." Lucifer started, only to stop himself for a second. He didn't want to sound like he felt "guilty" for everything he did to her. To this day, he still stands proud for freeing Adam and Eve from Dad's hypocrisy. "Listen, Eve. Sooner or later, you must overcome it. You can't blame yourself for what you didn't know. You went to Heaven. You gained your entry. As weird as it sounds from me, our dad might have forgiven you."
"Jesus also told me that," Eve blandly murmured. "He said in his eyes, I'm forgiven and part of God's family...But even the Messiah's assurance doesn't make me feel better."
"Of course, Eve! Jesus is just a useless preacher to your kind."
"He is far done better for my kind." Eve replied, although she was annoyed at him.
"Like what? Dying on a cross doesn't solve shit." Lucifer grinned.
"Oh, but it does, Lucifer." Eve glanced at him, speaking with more confidence. "Jesus's sacrifice was not in vain. Only thanks to him, Heaven now hosts 33% of Humanity's souls."
"And in the meantime, 67% are having fun in Hell." Lucifer snickered at the irony. "Must have been one hell of a party after Jesus returned. I can imagine my Dad's reaction: "Jesus, my boy! By dying, you've usefully redeemed 1% of humanity. Hurray! Now go and eat a popsicle, kiddo!"
"At least he tried!" Eve exclaimed, feeling no joy from Lucifer's own ignorance. With a brief pause, Eve then smirked, realizing Lucifer had forgotten one important note. "Even by trying, he managed to redeem some of humanity's sins. As my children say, "A little try doesn't hurt anyone"...Charlie learned it quite well." Eve intentionally hinted at him.
Lucifer grumbled, turning his gaze away from her, wanting to hide so that Eve could not see her win in their "bloodsport". Luckily for him, Eve didn't force it further. Instead, she opted to check her GPS panel. She let out a faint gasp to herself, as Eve had anticipated that their journey would be long.
"Be ready, Helel. We're arriving at the core sector."
Lucifer glanced out the window. She wasn’t wrong, they are arriving at the Central Core of the Empyrean and the entire Lower Heaven.
At the center of Empyrean City lied a massive citadel or crystal skyscraper that rose high into the sky and extended far beyond: Empyrean Palace. The palace itself was beautiful, glimmering with white marble and Heaven's golden pattern. As God favored perfection in his creations, his palace stood out compared to the ordinary buildings of heaven. Even Mulciber, the architect of Capital City Pandemonium and the Gates of Hell, could not build something far more magnificent than God's palace.
Barely at the top of the tower, there was a huge, dim ball of light energy. It was the dimensional portal, meant to link the higher heaven (Angel's Heaven) with the lower heaven (humanity's heaven). This portal was a courtesy from Lucifer's mom, Asherah. She linked all three dimensions together—the mortal world, hell, and heaven—to work in symbiosis.
Eve turned the speeder away from the main traffic line and proceeded to move closer to the Empyrean Citadel. Getting very close, she carefully descended her speeder onto the platform, meant for parking flying crafts, with a slight thud.
Lucifer very slowly clapped his hands for Eve's excellent driving skills. His clap made Eve smile slightly...here Lucifer could have made a "sexist" joke for this moment to play with Eve's nerves... but meh. For the sake of Lilith's beliefs, he opted not to do that.
"Destination reached; thank you for choosing Exodus Corporation! We will be delighted to see you again!“ Milly had said her goodbye speech before she turned off completely, this time, with the Speeder’s engines going silent as well.
Eve sighed, laying her head against the pillow's seat. Right now, she feels more concerned about what will come next. Even Detective Eve herself reached "enemy territory," as the Angels weren’t that "forgiving" if things went horribly wrong for both of them.
"So..." Lucifer started, putting his mask on. "What's your bet on how horrible this will go?"
"Don't Jinx it...otherwise, you owe me a decent Apartment in Pentagram City."
"Why so humble? I would not mind if it was a request for a mansion."
"Because the sudden appearance of Lilith's twin sister will surely raise some noise." Eve chuckled, imagining her twin sisters' reaction to her "clone's" sudden "Elite" status. The detective then reached for the panel below the wheel, removing it. "Anyway, go stretch yourself for now. I'm going to wipe Milly's memory."
With a silent nod, Lucifer left the speeder and went outside, stretching his arms from the burden of...sitting for two hours. Inside the mask, his eyes glanced at the palace. It used to be Lucifer's own home, where he spent most of his time in pre-rebellion times. The palace was filled with angels, God's choir, and cherubs. Even outside the palace, it was very lively.
But now...Not anymore. Instead, the Empyrean Palace is currently sitting in the center, both disturbingly and quietly. It seemed odd to the King of Hell.
"It's not the original Palace, L." Eve called out, who was nearly done tampering with Speeder's RAM system with her PDA tool. When she finished, she closed the panel and left the speeder to join Lucifer. "This is just a copy of it. We are in Lower Heaven, where mortal souls reside."
"I presume it's Jesus' home now... [beep] Christ." Lucifer commented, annoyed at the irony. He finds it funny how a man who used to live in severe poverty was granted this generous gift. Even Lucifer would never dare ask his father for a castle or anything else in that category.
"It's not by his will." Eve then proceeded, "Let's go and meet him."
Leaving the landing platform, they proceeded to the entrance to the Palace. When they reached it. They noticed two Empyrean Guard angels standing, protecting the palace from the unwelcome guests.
"Halt!" One of them called out, blocking the path with their spears. "This is Messiah's property! No admittance without proper authorization."
Eve reached for her satchel and displayed her E.O.P badge. "Detective Eve Eden of E.O.P. I have full authorization from Messiah himself to enter his home."
"One moment..." The Empyrean Guard summoned a book with a Christian cross on it. He opened it to see if she was telling the truth."Mhm...okay, you check out. I don't recognize your friend over there."
"He is with me."
"And why?"
"That's classified by Providence; only the Messiah's ears must be heard," Eve explained with a neutral expression. Though she was annoyed by the distrust these two guards gave her, Even Lucifer's face inside his mask clenched into a pissed-off smirk.
The Empyrean Guards glanced at each other, not sure what to do with these two. The one on the left shrugged at his counterpart, while the one on the right growled in annoyance before declaring his own verdict.
"Fine, you both may enter. However, per Michael's instructions, one of the Archangels will investigate your reasons for Messiah's visit. God Protects!"
Fixing their posture, the guards moved their spears away and performed a sudden turn to open the frontal doors for them.
"God be with you, angels." Eve nodded to them, albeit still not amused by their behavior earlier. Lucifer opted not to give anything, not even a nod of thanks.
Together, they entered the grand lobby, with these guards closing the doors behind them. If Eve was right about this place being a copy of God's in Higher Heaven, then the grand lobby used to be where Mom and Dad would attend meetings with their children. The lobby was pretty empty, although the walls are filled with murals, depicting most of Jesus' old friends; the 12 Apostles... including Judas Iscariot.
They proceed a bit further from the entrance. When they were far enough away from the guards, Lucifer smacked Eve on the shoulder, causing her to yelp.
"Don't you realize what you've gotten yourself into?" Lucifer complained, although he kept his voice down. "If they send another Archangel to us, we're both [beep] -ed!"
"I didn't know Michael changed the orders!" Eve snapped back aggressively, not because of his remark but because he had smacked her shoulder. She then opted to stay professional and subsequently lowered her voice down. "Listen, as long it's-"
Eve stopped herself when Lucifer raised his head and just froze...it was enough for Eve to perceive what was going on...
"An Archangel is already behind me, isn't it?" She whispered.
He slowly nodded.
"Why hello there, Mother Eve!" An angelic voice rang behind her. Detective Eve took a deep breath before turning around and greeting her back.
"Greetings, Archangel. I-HOLY SH-"
When her eyes caught on Angel. Detective Eve abruptly stopped herself, and...horror ensued. Eve covered her mouth and opted just to scream, covering her eyes. To describe what she saw was impossible for the mortal mind. Lucifer only smiled at her reaction, as he was not affected by...epilepsy. What Eve saw was a "True" Angel Form: a ball of energy with four wings and 100 eyes all around its wings.
"Aww, don't be afraid." The Angel in True Form proclaimed wholeheartedly. All of its eyes narrowed a bit, as if it smiled at Eve.
"PLEASE, YOU'RE IN YOUR TRUE FORM!" Eve begged.
"Huh?" It replied unsurely. Only after some eyes looked at each other, did it realize Eve's fear. "Oh! Allow me to fix it, love!"
The angel's true form glowed in bright light before...she emerged from it. Like Gabriel and Lucifer, her lips were black, and she had rosy cheeks. At the edge of her long blonde hair were gentle sparks of fire, flowing in a gentle motion. When Lucifer caught his eyes on her "bright and full of love" face...his soul froze. His inner "form" was twisted enough to not know what to do. That angel wasn't just any ordinary God's servant... she was one of the strongest, best, and most beautiful of them all...
Archangel Uriel herself
Archangel Uriel [or Auriel, to be polite] was the fifth and youngest of God's and Asherah's closest children and was regarded as the most mature and reasonable of all the Archangels in Heaven. Lucifer's Little Sister was the one of who the Winners often went to for wisdom and help. She helps them to seek God’s will before making decisions, come up with fresh creative ideas, solve problems, resolve conflicts, let go of destructive emotions, and recognize dangerous situations so they can try to avoid them.
Lucifer without any doubt, could agree with that. He felt calm, happiness, and love for Uriel when she was in his presence a long time ago. At times when Lucifer's demise was getting near him, Uriel was there to comfort her older brother. Unlike Father and the rest of his brothers, she listened... she replied, and advised him on how to proceed as she thought would be best for him.
Then the rebellion came...thankfully Lucifer never crossed her during the war. It's the first time he's seen his grown-up little sister. If he were in a different situation, Lucifer would have revealed his real identity behind his mask. But he didn’t know if she, like the rest of Heaven, hated him. And seeing her now, after so much time had passed, made him wish she had sided with him during the rebellion. She would have made an excellent "Morningstar"... and perhaps a wonderful aunt for Charlie to cling to.
"I'm really sorry, Eve. I was informed that you were coming, love. Teleported myself so quickly that I forgot to alter my form. How clumsy I can be at times." Uriel giggled at herself.
"It's alright, Lady Uriel. It's just that I could never get used to your true angel forms."
"No mortal does, my dear. It's always an angel's goal to make you feel comfortable speaking with us." Uriel gently addressed her. She then subsequently extended her arms. "How about a hug from this clumsy angel as a sign of apology?"
"You don't have to, my Lady." Eve assured him wholeheartedly.
"But I absolutely want to...for old-time sake." Uriel hinted.
Eve chuckled at Uriel's compassion for her. There was always a strong "sister to younger sister" relationship between them, and it brought back many happy memories. After all, Archangel Uriel was the gatekeeper of the Garden of Eden...but more often, her role was more like that of a companion to Adam and Eve. At times, Uriel talked with them about pretty much anything the first pair would come up with. Life, faith, God, and so on.
And of course, sometimes silly moments are no exception. In one case, Eve remembers very well how Adam inquired of Uriel as to why she looked like his wife...in a sense, why the Archangel looked more feminine compared to her older siblings. Uriel chuckled at first, but she kindly explained how angels in nature are genderless but can shapeshift without any problem. For Uriel, she preferred to see herself in Asherah's image...hence, she was a female angel.
Now, Adam and Eve were grown up and... were different people. They never had a chance to see Uriel more often, as everyone in Heaven's Elder Council is busy these days. So, after a long time apart, Eve drew closer and tightly embraced her old mentor... and friend. Lucifer, who awkwardly stood like a statue, could not help but smile at that "adorable" sight. That's his sister: as caring and loving as she ever was. Eve is very lucky for Uriel to shower her with love...
Uriel gently stroked Eve's hair in their hug. She then glance at Eve's yellow eyes, causing the First Woman to blush.
"As beautiful as the day Yahweh and his Asherah created you...Truly the perfect image of the Goddess herself."
"Y-you...You really shouldn't flatter me, My Archangel." Eve awkwardly replied.
Uriel only smiled even more at Eve's innocence. "Most would rather deny a hard truth than face it, love. But I can tell you're a little embarrassed to see me. Was there something wrong with what I stated?" Uriel as always, asked with deep care.
"It's just..." Eve searched for the correct words before she continued. "I'm extremely delighted to see you, Uriel. I really do. But...I sometimes wonder if...I'm worthy of your affection. Archangel Michael never forgive me...and I don't know if God really did forgive me for the apple, Uriel...or is it just because Jesus is very kind for me to manage to convince him to allow us to be in Heaven?"
"Eve, my love..." Uriel gently laid her hand on Eve's shoulder. "God was never angry with you. He specifically warned you about the apple, and how it would lead you down a long road of loneliness, betrayal, and grief. You broke the rule...Yet you have never turned your back on God. You told Seth and Abel of his rightness, justice, and kindness. In his eyes and mine: you're still his creation. You're his child, and you're still a member of my family."
Concluding the speech, Uriel gently wiped a tear away from Eve's eye. She just stared at the angel, trying to stay calm and not cry. But if she cried, Uriel would not mind it. It was a part of Asherah's gift: the ability to express grief and sorrow by crying.
Lucifer, who heard everything, also felt sad for some reason. His father had previously expressed his love for him... but Lucifer did not understand why Father preferred them: humans over his own sons and daughters. He never understood it back then...now...and perhaps forever...
There was a vast silence as Uriel waited patiently for Eve to calm down. It is possible here that the Archangel of Salvation might help her out.
"How about something positive then. How are you doing, my dear?" Uriel inquired in her ever-loving and caring tone, summoning her book of wisdom.
“Okay, for the most part.” Eve breathed out, gradually returning to her normal state. "I still work for E.O.P; had some unusual cases recently..."
“Anything interesting to share with me, love?” Uriel added as she gently tilted her head to the left.
“Aside from the case where some Winner disappeared and later revealed he got stuck in the sewer, I would say nothing much.” Eve explained, with Uriel chuckling at her little story. “And you, my Archangel?”
"Oh, you know..." Uriel eyed her book of wisdom, gently tapping it. “Same paperwork, every day.”
“Azrael being pushy, huh?” Eve suggested.
“As if he ever stops.” Uriel giggled; she then glanced at Eve’s companion, who was standing silently, eying the two of them. “My apologies if I didn't see you there, Azrael's finest. What brings you to the Messiah's home?"
“Oh…” Eve glanced back at Lucifer before returning her stare to Uriel. She nearly forgot about his presence. “Now that you mentioned it, is Jesus Christ available right now?”
“Sadly, he travels around the mortal world with Saint Nicholas, giving children their Christmas gifts as of..." Uriel hastily summoned the hourglass to note the time and then made it disappear. "-right now, I think. He won’t be here until the evening.”
“Ah, of course.” Eve awkwardly caressed her cheek. She should have known that would be the case. "In fact, I wanted to discuss this with Jesus because this... exorcist has some news for Hell's plans."
“Hell's plans?” Uriel repeated, being concerned. She shifted her eyes to Lucifer. “Something serious?”
"Afraid so, Archangel of Salvation," Lucifer politely replied, his mask equipped with a voice module that prevents Uriel from recognizing him.
“Strange…” Uriel straightened her back, casting a cautious glance at Lucifer. “Normally, exorcists do not venture to Hell before the extermination. How you got this information is what concerns me, Knight.”
“A friend of his belongs to the Exorcist's infiltration Unit." Lucifer was supposed to explain himself, but Eve beat him to it. "He got a tip-off from a "collaborator" and, in return, told my companion about the whole situation.”
"What have you learned then, love?” Uriel inquired for more information.
“I...I'm really sorry, Uriel. We want to speak with Jesus first as it will benefit his side...away from Azrael's ears, that is.” Eve apologized; it’s difficult to lie to one of the most passionate archangels in Heaven.
The Light of God was saddened at first to hear this. Even Lucifer can tell she was a bit heartbroken over Eve not trusting Uriel enough to share it. But of course, the Angel of Light does not harbor any resentment towards Eve for that. She instead gave an understanding nod in the end.
“Of course. As you wish, love." Uriel then tapped her nails against her book as she thought about what to do with them. You can’t just throw them out like Azrael would normally do with winners. She stopped and squeezed her hand as an idea emerged. “How are you two feeling? Not tired?”
“A bit…” Eve admitted. “Didn’t have proper sleep for a day. My friend over here is…well…you know it’s going to be Extermination Day soon.”
“I don’t want either of you to leave disappointed. Hence, I can arrange a guest room for you two. Rest here for now, and you will see Jesus in the evening.”
“You sure Azrael would be okay with it? He doesn’t tolerate my close presence with Jesus very often.”
“Well…" Uriel purposely wiggled her head with mischievous intent. "Of course, he would not be okay with it. But I don’t care what he thinks.” She winked at Eve, gesturing to follow her.
Lucifer smiled at that. It's good Uriel is still the same after all that time. Despite her devotion to Dad's nonsense, she remains open-minded, unlike some of Lucifer's brothers.
They followed Archangel Uriel to the elevator, probably made for winners. Entering inside with Uriel, she pushed a button to the 873 floor.
"You're not going to fly?" Eve asked.
"Heh, you desire me to crash myself as I lift you up, love?" Uriel grinned at Eve. She's just fooling around with her.
"Did my ears just ring, or did Archangel Uriel herself call me fat?" Eve faked her surprise, too. "Surely some human could not be a problem for the most beautiful and strongest angel to handle?”
Uriel made a dramatic hand move to her chest, still playing along. "My dear! I would never assume you're fat! You're thinner than me. But let me tell you: What if that "beautiful and strongest" angel just wants to see Goddess's finest creation more closely, hmm?"
Eve gently laughed. "You know, I miss these sarcastic fights you had with us."
"I do too. Sometimes if Azrael grumbles at me, I tend to give some "sassiness when needed." to him....he drives me insane sometimes. I told him many times that we should stop judging mortals so harshly. Still didn't listen. At this point, the word "Sin" is being spewed left and right by Azrael's circle."
“I take it there is no chance for Azrael to change our policy?” Eve added. Lucifer grinned maliciously inside his mask.
“Afraid not.” Uriel shook her head, scowling at herself. “He is too blinded by his own visions. Thinks he will undo sin if he will allow only the purest Christians to Heaven.”
“Or some who benefit from his agenda,” Eve muttered grimly to herself.
“Exactly, Eve…Exactly.” Uriel nodded sympathetically. “Truth be told, this whole situation is a dreadful mess…first with Helel…now with Azrael…I'm getting too old.”
Lucifer glanced at Uriel when she mentioned his name. Even if Eve couldn't see his eyes, she could tell he was relatively happy to see Uriel after a long time of no communication. Perhaps she could help him out. At least in order to know if Uriel still cares for Lucifer or not.
“You still miss Helel?” Eve added, and Lucifer glanced at her in surprise, as well as disbelief, as he couldn't fucking tell what she was accomplishing by asking this.
“Of course I do, Eve," Uriel whispered. Lucifer glanced at her, shocked at hearing this. "I know that most of my family believes my brother is lost and beyond reprieve. But I refuse to believe so. I shine my Father's light into darkness and confusion. That's why I can't give up on Helel. And I could care less what others would say to me for daring to have faith in Hell’s King. Because at the end of the day, he's still my big brother, and I love him so much. I sincerely hope he shares the sentiment.”
"I do, Sunshine. I really do..." Lucifer muttered inside his mask. His voice was deactivated, so it was safe for him to say it.
What Uriel said pierced right into Lucifer’s own heart. Now he didn’t know what to do anymore. He could just rip off his mask out of shame for lying to his beloved sister. Eve didn’t make anything better whatsoever. He was aware that she was attempting to make things better for him on purpose. Yet it only made Lucifer battle with his inner self.
Suddenly, the elevator pinged and opened the doors. Eve followed Uriel down the corridor without saying a word, while Lucifer slowly made his way, feeling weak from his inner conflicts. And worse, he noticed a family portrait…Asherah and Yahweh: Lucifer's parents in their angelic forms. Primordial beings never had their true forms…yet they still felt…like parents to him.
He took a long stare at Asherah: the Goddess of Life herself...and his "mother". His love for her has never faltered to this day...Lucifer always felt he was closer to her than to God. Maybe it's because of her rosy cheeks that every angel shares with each other. Maybe because of her genuine kindness, understanding, and fierce passion for them... he wasn’t sure to this day.
"You’re coming?“ Eve inquired about him.
"My apologies.“ Lucifer sighed softly as he strolled toward them.
"It's okay, Knight." Uriel gently addressed. "Here we are. Your room"
She pressed her hand against the scanner. It quickly confirmed Archangel's authorization and opened the door. She then gently moved away for Lucifer and Eve to enter first. Eve was in awe, even Lucifer was rather impressed. The guest room in "Envy Terms" was a 5-star hotel room...even a 6-star one, he might add. It has a living room, two bedrooms, a balcony, and even a cramped kitchen. Devildamm, Jesus...you're high Rolling in Heaven.
"Wow!" Eve whispered. "I can't imagine how Jesus lives here."
"Actually." Uriel entered inside as well, wanting to address the misconception "His living room is rather more modest than his guests. He never wanted this magnificent palace in the first place. But we made a sacred oath to take care of Jesus."
"Humble as ever, he is," Eve commented positively.
"A true example for all of us." Uriel nodded in agreement. "Anyway, I plan to attend to some mundane duties in my spare time. If you need me, just seek my prayer, and I will come. Until then, may God illuminate your path to flaming righteousness."
"Wait, my Archangel...we need to talk, you and I.” Lucifer called out, causing Uriel to stop, as she would have left them.
"What are you doing?" Eve asked, and Uriel raised an eyebrow at Eve.
Lucifer only showed his palm to Eve, meaning he wouldn't answer her. He took a deep breath as he was going to engage in the risky game...and Lucifer would reveal his cards on the first turn. He could have concealed his presence from the entire Heaven if we could...but not to Uriel..not his sister, who never harmed him...to one who never said proper goodbye that day.
"You said, "I hope he shares my sentiment" earlier...and the answer is yes, Sunshine."
Lucifer then finally removed his mask and helmet, revealing his real identity. Uriel immediately raised her eyes in surprise... only to lower them again, staring at the floor. Somehow, her "light" inside her wondered if it was him...and of course, "sisterly" intuition never fails anyone.
"At times, I would ponder my reasons to visit Heaven if I had a chance..." Lucifer gently walked closer to Uriel. She still stared at the floor, conflicted like Eve was earlier . "And every time...it's only because of you, dear sister."
Lucifer then gently brought his hand to Uriel's rosy cheek. Uriel finally looked at his older brother, who smiled warmly. He felt genuine pride for Uriel for growing us into strong and beautiful angel.
"After everything you have caused, Helel- I'm not sure whether to smite or scream at you...but...I can't...I-I...just...."
"Uriel..." Lucifer cooed, carefully laying his hand on her shoulder to not provoke her.
"...J-just..." Uriel tried to conceal her face by avoiding her gaze at him...only to fail regardless. "Just hug me already!"
She didn't need to say it twice for Lucifer to embrace her with full power. Uriel would, too, reply with full energy.
"I missed you, Sparkles!" Uriel sniffed, laying her head on his shoulder.
"I missed you too, Sunshine," Lucifer whispered, gently caressing her back.
Eve, who was initially terrified of the consequences, eventually smiled. A sibling relationship is not a familiar concept for First Woman. But at least she was glad Lucifer was the one who had it. Feeling like the two of them needed some alone time, Detective Eve gently left to the nearest bedroom.
As for them, their embrace continued for two minutes. It was Uriel who broke their sibling's reunion. Nevertheless, she held his hands.
"I take it you're not here to visit us?" Uriel's smile faded as she... admitted the painful truth.
"No, I'm afraid..." Lucifer shook his head slowly. If it weren't for Uriel, he would have been meaner in his answer. "I'm here to make a deal."
"...Deal?" She repeated, confused.
"Yes, a deal." Lucifer then let go of her. He forced his hands behind his back and strolled to the window, examining the view of the Empyrean City. "So remember our dear old brother, Archangel Samael?"
"Of course..." Uriel muttered, experiencing no pleasure from hearing this name again. "Who wouldn't remember that treacherous snake?”
"Hate him too, huh?" Lucifer asked, slightly surprised. So much for the "love your enemies" narrative...
"I'll never forgive the archangel who brought misery and suffering to Heaven that day...." Uriel tried to stay neutral in her tone, but still she felt fury and a great wish to kill Samael once and for all.
"Yeah, I know..." Lucifer cursed quietly. "But I'm proud of you for thinking that way."
"Tsk...one day your pride will kill all of us." Uriel sighed.
"Then I will make certain your grave will have the most splendid flowers planted by me!" Lucifer joked. "Say, has our dad ever said: Are there any super Heavens and super Hells for us when angels or demons die?"
"No, that would be too "Deja vu"...I would not want to see Super Hell's counterpart of you, brother."
"Ha, neither do I!" Lucifer laughed, feeling more joy from their trivial fight. "Anyway, I had... a conflict of interests recently. It happens that I want him to be occupied with something else for now. I'm sure Heaven will want their little revenge on Devil...and I can arrange that for you."
"Interesting..." Uriel muttered to herself before addressing her concerns to her brother. "As far as I understand, he is below you in terms of power. I'm certain you can handle yourself....what caused you to seek Heaven's assistance against Devil?"
There, Lucifer opted to stay silent at first. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to say it, but there was no point in keeping it from her. At least Uriel listens and always has his back when needed.
"Uriel..." he glanced at her, making sure she stared into his eyes. "I don't know if you know...but I have a daughter - Charlotte Morningstar."
Ironically, Uriel only smiled at hearing this, glad that he was kind enough to share it with her.
"I know, Helel. All of the Archangels know it already...but Sparkles, it's still amazing news! I knew you would achieve your happiness in Hell. Plus, it's charming to know that I'm an aunt now."
"That you're, Sunshine." He smiled at that. "I could have invited you for her birthday, but certain...restrictions prevented me.... "
Chuckling in joy, Uriel would "pounce" at Lucifer and embrace him once again, as sort of a late embrace of congratulations for becoming a dad.
"Helel! You won't believe how happy I am with you. I...I..oh..." Uriel stopped when she realized it as she let him go from her hug. If he had a daughter, he and Devil were in a "political struggle," and if he didn't venture to Heaven to see his siblings...now it all made sense for Uriel.
"You're here because of your daughter?" Her face showed signs of worry.
"Yes...long story short: She went down a rabbit hole as I did. As much as it's amusing...it's not when she causes a civil war in my realm."
"What you mean by rabbit hole?" Uriel asked, pushing for more elaboration. She knew he wasn’t painting a full picture of the situation.
"Uriel, please...just stop" Lucifer pleaded gently, not interested in the topic.
"You don't trust me?"
"I trusted you enough to tell you about my daughter, sister." He mentioned it in a pathetic tone.
"Then why the necessary secrecy? She is my niece, you know. Your legitimate concerns about her are my concerns too."
Lucifer groaned, throwing his arms in the air. Even Archangel Mammonel wasn't that pushy in the past.
"Alright, fine! She opened a hotel with the goal of redeeming sinners and sending them here. Congratulations, Uriel! Now you know!"
"I see..." Uriel nodded slowly, now understanding why he and Eve sought Jesus. "I'm afraid it is not possible for Little Sparkles to do that...neither Michael, Azrael nor Sera with Metatron would allow it."
Yet Uriel could not help but smile at that. Even in the darkness that was Hell, there were still a little "Angel" sparkles for those who had not even touched the light of God. Although Uriel can't deny it, she was also worried about her niece's goals. Hell was very brutal to Heaven's sympathizers. If her brother at least somehow tolerated it, others will be far less acceptive...especially The Devil himself.
"Judging by the state of heaven during my brief visit, I believe they became a little senile." Lucifer commented, his smile increasing as he enjoyed the irony.
"Azrael did..." Uriel humbly admitted, and she then crossed her arms. "But Michael is just protecting both Earth and Heaven, Helel. To this day, he still thinks you're plotting to take back God's throne at any time."
"How kind of him!" Lucifer chirped in fake happiness, turning around again to face her. "Tell him he can go fuck himself if he still thinks I care for Dad's throne!"
"Helel!" Uriel exclaimed, surprised by his rhetoric. She can't fathom how delusional her brother is regarding the damage he has caused. "How can't you understand that all of your actions that day broke everyone's heart... including mine," Uriel whispered in the concluding part.
Lucifer took a deep breath and closed his eyes, finishing with a shake of his own head. He was sick of the "Rebellion" ghost returning to him over and over again. And Uriel's words left him feeling... strange.
"I thought a lot about you after you had been banished, Helel." Uriel continued, with Lucifer opening his eyes to look at her. "We never said goodbye... and now that you're here... I thought you were coming back... only to discover you found your home down there." Uriel then shrugged to herself, finding her own irony funny. "I guess even an Archangel can dream of hope."
Lucifer remained silent, staring gloomily at Uriel, who turned away from him, wanting to hide her sorrow. It must be weird how earlier she was cooing Eve, and now she is the one who needs one... But from what Lucifer learned from Uriel, positivity never hurts anyone. And there, the King of Hell delivered a very mischievous grin as a great idea emerged.
He carefully walked to her...and attacked...
Her armpits...
When Uriel instantly felt his nimble fingers under her armpits, she yelped and momentarily jumped away from him.
"What are you doing?!" She turned, crossing her arms.
Lucifer only grinned in response. He then slowly moved toward Uriel like a serial killer. Once he got closer, he tried attacking her again with his tickles, which Uriel easily dodged. This time she giggled back, at least.
"I'm going to get ya!" Lucifer wiggled his fingers, threatening her that way.
"No, you don't!" Uriel played back, taking steps back from him to keep her distance.
"Yes, I do, Sunshine! No Armspits are safe from the King Of Hell!"
"Unless they are Archangel's!" Uriel challenged him back in a playful tone.
"I like those odds!" Lucifer again tried to reach out, but Uriel just opted to run away. Lucifer didn't give up, and he chased his sister around the living room.
"NO ESCAPE FOR YOU!" Lucifer laughed, while Uriel giggled like a little girl.
Uriel, in her chase, used the kitchen table to her advantage against him. Whenever Lucifer went left or right, she used the opposite direction.
"No table will save you from me!" Lucifer yelled, deceiving Uriel with sharp turns.
"You lost, Demon!" Uriel laughed.
"Unless I go above!"
True to his words. Lucifer got on the table, going for a shortcut. But by using the opportunity as it was on the table. Uriel just ran away. Lucifer then jumped from the table and swiftly ran after Uriel. Eventually, he cornered her and managed to tackle Uriel to the ground.
"Got you, little sis!"
Lucifer then, without mercy, started to tickle her every time he could. She laughed very hard, still trying to push her brother away.
"Luc-stop-it! You-tor-ture-me!" She begged him to stop... only to be overcome by laughter. As victory was imminent for him. Lucifer then stopped and raised his fist in the air.
"And thus, my dear sister. Hell: 1, Heaven: 0."
"Then we are even, brother." Someone behind him said. Lucifer turned around and instantly noticed Gabriel with a smirk on his shrewd face. The door to the balcony is also open. "I saved your ass on Eden Paradise. In my book, Hell is still 0."
Gabriel then came closer and glanced down at his sister, who was lying on the floor, with Lucifer sitting on her stomach and his hands on her armpits.
"Uriel..."
"Gabriel..." Uriel said, breathing rapidly into the air.
"Comfortable floor, I take it?" Gabriel gently tapped Uriel's leg with his feet to check if she was alive after Lucifer's unspeakable torture.
"Very..." She then, with Lucifer's help, raised herself to her feet. "Don't tell me you saw everything, love..."
"Your sacred secrets are with me, sis." Gabriel laid his hand on his chest, and swore an oath. He then glanced at Lucifer. "Yours too...in both instances."
"And the first one is...?" Uriel asked Lucifer, uneasy in his voice.
"Eh, long story." Lucifer dismissed her with a slight wave. He then crossed his arms. "So...Gabriel."
"Hello again, Helel,” Gabriel replied bluntly. "I hope our pleasant encounter in Eden’s Paradise didn't scare you too much."
"Ah...I see you’re still a pompous ass..." Lucifer sneered.
"And I see you’re still bitching about our Dad in Hell..." Gabriel fired back with strong hostility.
"It's mostly the entire Inferno...and they actively seek to kill you."
"How delightful to hear this, Captain Obvious of God!"
"Oh, you're welcome, Jackass of God!"
The two angels then gave each other a death glare. Uriel, who silently stared at them, moved between them. In case there was going to be a bloodbath between her beloved brothers. Gabriel sighed. Uriel deprived him of the rare chance to make some more snarky comments to Lucifer. But she is correct in her decision.
"Now that we are in a more pleasant situation compared to the first, I will simply address this: Why are you here, Helel?" Garbiel asked impatiently as he opted to be straightforward to Lucifer.
"Oh, you know...I just wanted to visit Heaven to see how pathetic this place inevitably became," Lucifer snapped back.
"As if your afterlife is any better, Sparkles."
"Better to suffer than live in eternal hypocrisy, Gabby." Lucifer barked back. Uriel made an eye roll at herself...back to snarky insults, it seems.
"So in your eyes, suffering is better than lying? Good logic, Helel."
"Didn't Heaven advocate for "Peace with your enemies"? If yes, why are you sending exorcists down my throat?!"
"The Extermination was not my or Uriel's idea. We wouldn't be in this mess if your fellow Kings hadn't destroyed the Limbo Region!"
"I was under no circumstances in favor of destroying Limbo! The Stygian Council voted for war with Heaven back in 1920. Not my problem; I have to appease my dogs in Hell."
"You're the Fatherdamm High King Of Hell. What is the point of you if your title means nothing?"
"Everyone has the opposition, Gabriel! Heaven is no exception!"
"And-"
"ENOUGH!" Uriel snapped in an instant, stopping them both. She then immediately toned her gentle voice down. "No one's afterlife is perfect; you both can agree on that. But please, Gabriel, let Helel explain why he is here. Then you can explain what is going on in Heaven."
Courteously giving a reassuring nod to his dear sister, Gabriel then glanced at Lucifer for his opinion. "Do you agree with her?"
"I Agree."
And so, without any word, Gabriel then silently gestured to Lucifer for his brother's apparent reasons.
"Right, I'm here because, no matter what you think of me, there is always a bigger fish for you to fight: The Devil himself. Do we agree on that?"
"Agreed.“ Gabriel nodded.
"Good, now I have no reason to love him in any capacity. He is a threat to my throne, to your existence, and to humanity as a whole. Do we agree on that, Message Boy?"
"Mhh…" Gabriel hummed yes, although he wanted to curse back for calling him a "message boy."
"And it so happens, we share the same ideas, for "the enemy of my enemy is my friend," as Eve said to me. I come to forge a temporary alliance against Devil. I want you— Heaven, that is—to make Devil switch his attention to you while I myself confront my own problems in Hell. I willingly close my eyes to Heaven's action in Hell as part of our deal."
"Question: why do you want this?" Gabriel asked. Nonetheless, he did not believe Lucifer's reasoning.
"You don't trust me? Have some little faith in your older brother, Gabby."
"Why should I? You absolutely lost your faith in our dad, Helel."
"And why must I possess faith in someone who has never cared for my being?"
"How in Dad's name are you so delusional? He cared for us - He definitely cared for you, you irrational one!"
"Brothers! Please do not ag-" Uriel wanted to intervene in their fight but was silenced when Lucifer started shouting.
"Me! An irrational one?!" Lucifer exclaimed in disbelief upon hearing these accusations. He then jabbed his finger against Gabriel's tie to make his point. "I loved him, you weasel little shit! Then he created humans and demanded that we bow to them! I declined politely, and he banished me for that!"
"You're lying to yourself!" Gabriel gently pushed Lucifer's finger away. "He banished you because Samael and the Devil, through their lies, caused you to rebel, and then you made the Serpent lie to Eve about the apple!"
"He should have allowed me to stay and beat the crap out of Samael then!" Lucifer shouted, death-staring at his brother.
"So that's what it is about, huh?" Gabriel released a breath and reluctantly took one step away, now realizing Lucifer's true reasons for his hatred against their dad.
"Shut up, Gabriel! You don't know shit!"
"It's about your Fall! Don’t lie to yourself!"
"I'M WARNING YOU!"
"We never wished for your fall-!"
"I SAID SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE BRAT!" Lucifer finally snapped, his eyes turning bright red. To tone down the hostility, Uriel gently laid her hand on Lucifer's shoulder. He glanced at her, and Uriel then gently shook her head, silently informing him to keep himself in control. Lucifer composed himself, calming himself down.
"Yes, I'm angry about my banishment, Gabriel! But I'm angry even more because you all did nothing while he cast me out! You never cared, Gabriel!
"How can you say such a thing? We admired and loved you! You were a big brother to all of us! Dad's decision was final, and there is nothing we could have done!"
"You're just talking out of your ass! You had the opportunity to join my side if you truly loved me...most of you chose the opposite." Lucifer turned his back on them in protest. He gave him a disappointed look; Gabriel was still a loyalist asshole after all that time. Lucifer assumed he was even more certain now that Heaven was a 1984 wet dream created by Dad himself.
"But our mom did! You broke her heart, Lucifer!" Gabriel shouted back.
"That I did..." Lucifer calmly whispered...there he agreed with Gabriel. "I suppose it would not hurt to ask, but...how is Mom doing? "I'm surprised Dad didn't already send the entire host to find me... they must be sick of humans, I suppose."
Gabriel shook his head in sadness. He would have spat at Lucifer for mocking their mom and dad...if only they had been in a different situation. Lucifer didn’t know the full picture of Heaven's situation. He then cast a glance at Uriel, who was calmly observing them.
"Should we talk about Mom and Dad, sis?"
"He is their son, Gabriel. He should know..." Uriel slowly nodded. She sighed deeply, knowing what was to come.
Lucifer groaned to himself, annoyed at them for making him... a little worried.
"Oh, what now, you two?! Did his holiness lose his toilet paper or what?! Why are you both so nervous?!" He threw his hands in the air as he turned around for them.
Ignoring the last comment, Gabriel then gently and slowly explained the situation. "Helel, Mom...Dad...They...are…"
“Gone”
Lucifer at least blinked three or four times upon hearing this. At first, he assumed Mom and Dad were too preoccupied with their nonsense to care about their traitorous son running around Heaven willy-nilly. What Gabriel said made him feel...strange again.
"What?" Lucifer muttered it to himself in disbelief and shock. "What do you mean, gone? "
"..." Gabriel awkwardly remained silent...lips quivering in sadness.
"Gabriel!" Lucifer snapped, demanding explanations without any nonsense.
"Too much happened, Helel...I'm so sorry." Gabriel whispered, and he tried holding back his tears. Even after all these years, it is still difficult to accept this news...
"What-Happened! Just spit it out, already!"
"Allow me, Helel." Uriel gently intervened. "Through your deception of Eve, Archangel Samael raped her to create Cain. Through Cain, Abel was murdered, and the cycle of violence started...then-"
"The First Vampires emerged; I know the story," Lucifer dismissed with a wave, wanting more simple explanations.
"Okay...so to save humanity from the Devil's corruption, he flooded Earth...but the great deluge didn't wipe out the Devil's evil seeds completely. In that case, Dad had to destroy the universe itself to end the Devil's schemes once and for all."
"But he didn't...of course." Lucifer muttered, not surprised by it. He would rather preserve his creation like an exotic trinket than care for his sons and daughters.
"Yes, they instead chose the alternative: after the Devil's physical form was imprisoned in Hell. Mom and Dad saw that the Devil's real form, due to being their wicked counterpart, was too powerful to be imprisoned within Hell, and thus they chained him in the deepest and emptiest reaches of space. Yet, these chains can be broken if left unsecured. And so...they have to leave Heaven and ascend to the highest sanctum, where even angels can't reach.
"So they..." Lucifer whispered before realizing what Uriel meant. "No...no-no-no! NO, this can’t be!"
"I'm sorry, Helel....our parents are gone...forever."
"Forever…”
"Forever…”
"Forever…”
"FOREVER!”
Lucifer's left eye twitched after this revelation. Soon, his shocked expression turned into a hysterical slow laugh as he realized he had every opportunity to seize Heaven's now vacant throne if he really wanted.
"So let's be straight: He left us?! They left their children to keep their creation alive?!" His hysterical laugh then switched into a livid scream. "IS THIS A FUCKING JOKE?!"
Here, Lucifer's psyche finally snapped completely. All that time, his rage toward his father was because of the Fall. He always thought one day his dad would return and plead for Lucifer to come back. But No! Instead, he chose to leave this dimension a long time ago, without even telling Lucifer about his departure.
"WHAT TYPE OF FATHER WILL LEAVE HIS CHILD CLUELESS OF HIS EXIT! THAT FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" Lucifer screamed in rage. He gripped the nearest chair and threw it against the wall.
"Lucifer!" Uriel wanted to help, but Gabriel gripped her arm. It's best to leave their brother in rage for the time being...
Fully enraged, Lucifer completely smashed or tossed any random objects he could find in his path. When he could not find anything else, he struck his fists against the wall multiple times.
FUCK!
FUCK!
FUCK!
WHY!
JUST- FUCKING- WHY?!”
Lucifer's punch pierced the wall on a final note, with him ending with a strong slam of his head against the wall. He'd then slowly slide down to the floor... and start crying.
As for Gabriel and Uriel...Helel managed to beat even Michael's sorrow so far, who pleaded with Mom and Dad to just reset his creation. He even fell on his knees and clung to Asherah's legs, imploring her not to leave them. Michael was no longer the same warrior he once was...
Uriel gently walked up and laid her hand on Lucifer's back. She would then sit on the floor and embrace her brother with full passion.
"I'm here...just in case."
Sniffing, her older brother would, without any objection, embrace her back. Gabriel, although not good at comforting people like Uriel was, still joined them and hugged them both.
"Helel..." Gabriel started gently. "I know we haven't been here for you when you desperately needed it. But at times, we will never forgive ourselves for the greatest sins we have committed ourselves."
"Even if the rest of heaven hates you...and you have every reason to hate us back, know that Gabriel and I will never hate you..." Uriel added to Gabriel's words. The Light of God then summoned a napkin and offered it to Lucifer.
"Much appreciated...both of you." He accepted the napkin and wiped the tears from his eyes. "So...if they are gone...who rules Heaven then?"
"The Eternal Regent: Saint Archangel Michael Himself..." Gabriel mockingly referred title. "Oh, and his favorite Yes-Angels: Azrael: Patron of Exorcists; Adina: The Inquisitor; Sera: The Perpetual Neutral and Metatron: The Speaker on God's behalf..."
"And Jesus?" Lucifer added.
"He is just a figurehead for the Humans. But he is very respected by humanity, which they still listen to his words. If what you're saying is true, then yes. It would be best to talk with him. I-"
Gabriel then abruptly stopped as he gravely looked at Uriel. He was obviously aware of what she had received.
"What happened?" Lucifer asked as well why his siblings were behaving weirdly.
"Azrael sent a telepathic message to us. Apparently some Cherubs from the C.H.E.R.U.B organization are once again breaking the laws of Heaven..." Gabriel rubbed his face, feeling tired from the micromanagement he had to do here in Heaven. "Uriel, can you take care of Helel by yourself?"
"It's my expertise.” Uriel giggled.
"Thanks, sis..." Gabriel then glanced at Lucifer. "Well, I guess all good things must come to an end one way or another...It's been a sincere pleasure to see you here, brother."
"I suppose I share the sentiment...a bit." Lucifer weakly nodded.
"Sure you're...Good luck with your future endeavors." Gabriel would turn around and walk to the balcony.
"Oh, and Gabriel.." Lucifer called out, making Gabriel stop and look at him. "Take a vacation for a week or two. You look like shit."
"If you go easy on us. Maybe I will do... but no promises, Sparkles!" Gabriel gave a military salute before he jumped out from the balcony, summoning and spreading his wing to fly away.
With Gabriel gone, Uriel helped the tired Lucifer stand up and guide him to the nearest couch.
"Sorry for...wrecking the room." Lucifer smirked at his own mess, as he sat on the couch.
"It's fine. Child's play to undo it," Uriel snapped her fingers. The entire room was fixed momentarily from Lucifer's carnage. "I presume you have so many questions now that...you know everything."
"Yeah..." Lucifer still holds a napkin to his cheek, wiping away the wetness. "But I already know my answers. Our dad is the worst father in this universe."
Uriel slowly nodded; he had the full right to feel that way. She still wanted to say something to make Lucifer a bit more open-minded.
"Don't you find it funny? You always wanted your own throne. But only after you were banished...you finally granted your wish. Think about it: Dad is a God. If he really hated you as much as you imply...he would have destroyed you. Instead, he banished you. You became the King of Hell instead of the Devil, whom he imprisoned. I believe that by banishing you to Hell, he granted you what you wanted."
"Then he should have been nicer with that. One moment he's a benevolent father; the next, a merciless asshole," Lucifer grumbled, still not convinced by her words.
Uriel giggled as she laid her left leg on her right one.
"Our Dad works in mysterious ways. He once told me the concept of "choice" is interesting to him. He argued that if you give someone different options and different circumstances, will they themselves end up different? The question is, will they ever make the choice to listen to it? Then he told me this: "And sometimes, it isn't the right moment in someone's life to make a certain choice. And no matter how badly you want to nudge them in the right direction... you know they need to find it on their own. And some people find love in the strangest of situations and are, somehow, happier for it..."
"It's Lilith, isn't it?" Lucifer murmured.
"And Charlie too..." Uriel pointed out, "Only through your banishment, have you been granted what you desired the most... a Throne, attention...and Family...maybe if God is not the family you wish for, then perhaps Charlie is..."
"I guess you're right..." Lucifer smirked, reminiscing about Charlie's younger years. "Heh, she always had a different effect on me. Wherever I came home, irritated at my Overlords' incompetence... only to take Little Charlie in my arms and forget about everything... she is like a mini-Heaven for me."
"She is an Angel...just like her dad is." Uriel smiled.
"Yeah...an Angel Of Hell...apparently." Lucifer nodded slowly; he could not help but smile at that.
"And that concludes our psychiatrist meeting. See you in the evening." On that final note, Uriel would lay her hand on his shoulder.
She then leaned forward and gave a quick kiss to his cheek before raising herself and proceeding to the exit. Before leaving the guest room, Uriel turned again, wanting to deliver one final word.
"I love you, Helel. Don't forget that.”
"Love you too, Sister." He weakly raised his hand to her.
She smiled. Uriel then made a quick wave of her hand in reply before she closed the door, leaving him alone to rest for now.
Lucifer, who felt tired from his tantrum, went to the bedroom without any delay. On his way, he noticed the lights on the neighbor's door; perhaps Eve was still awake. He gently opened the door to check on her and found Eve on the bed with her only nightgown on and the report on her hands that Abel had given her earlier. Her jumpsuit lay on the chair, with the Exorcist plush toy gently sitting on it.
"Lucifer?" The detective glanced up, laying her report on her knees.
"Forgot to knock. Sorry, my dear." Lucifer realized he didn't knock...so he then tapped against the doorframe to fix his clumsiness.
"It's fine. You have already taken enough from today. And you can enter if you want to speak with me. You've seen me naked before, so... nothing to hide."
"As you say..." Lucifer chuckled at Eve's humbleness. He then gently entered her bedroom. "Anything interesting in your reports, detective?"
"Concerning at most...but nothing we can handle."
"I'm sure you do..." Lucifer then sat on the bed. "So, what a morning, huh?"
"Yeah. Good thing Uriel reacted positively. I was worried she would be livid..."
"Well, it seems luck was on your side, Eve."
"Certainly," Eve said, nodding and taking a deep breath. "I want to apologize for not telling you and Serpent about Mom and Dad. I knew it from the start...and I didn't want neither of you to burden yourself more."
"Figures..." Lucifer shrugged, not even interested in discussing Mom and Dad anymore. "Just let us drop the subject... I can't bear it any longer... with Devil, now with parents... I just can't." Lucifer commented weakly, too tired to even joke. He then remembered Uriel's words about Eve's rape. "Hey...you know that Uriel and I - "
"About me?" She interrupted, knowing what it meant. "Yes, I heard it......I-I..." Eve stopped herself to hold her emotions for a moment before addressing them more stoically. "At times, I try to move on and forget...but it's difficult... but I'm trying, I suppose."
"Good...a little try doesn't hurt anyone, eh?" Lucifer nudged her, reusing her own words against him.
Eve smiled, feeling glad he at least listened to her babbling. Yawning, she then laid her report on the nightstand and reached for the lamp.
"Staying with me?"
"I'm not much of a sleeper... so if you don't mind, I'll hang out with you."
"Just don't try to creepily stare at me while I sleep…”
"Will try...but no promises."
"Duly noted," She didn't bother to protest, as it's pointless to argue. And so she turned off her lamp and made herself comfortable on the pillow, closing her eyes. "Goodnight...Morningstar."
"Nighty night...Lilith 2.0."
Eve smacked his leg in protest with her left hand, not strong enough to make even a baby hurt. With Eve falling asleep, Lucifer changed his outfit back to a classic suit with a snap of his fingers. He then gently relaxed on the bed and reached for his telephone from his pocket, typing the message to Lilith.
[Hey, Applepie! I'm going to be absent from Pentagram City for nearly a day. Mulciber called me, pestering me about the Gates of Hell's imminent deterioration or some shit I didn't listen to. Now I have to travel to the old Limbo Region to oversee the gate's current state. Won't be that long...sending you apples from your husband! 🍎🍎🍎]
[P.S: I still didn't forget about pizza >:} ]
[SEND]
[MESSAGE WAS SENT]
Huh, Hellphones worked in Heaven...guess that explained how the Serpent managed to call for Eve in the first place. Good then; at least it won't make Lilith pissed off...much.
Gently tossing his phone on the nearest nightstand, Lucifer then glanced at a sleeping Eve. She already fallen into a deep sleep...and gosh - she is so peaceful when she is resting...definitely Lilith's copy. And yet Lucifer's eyes caught on her back; he noticed severe but healed scars on her back. He can presume that injuries from the claws...The Evil of All sure does not hold back.
Lucifer shook his head, leaving these thoughts behind. He had an urge to lay his hand on her shoulder in comfort. He nearly did it...only to squeeze his hand in the air and return it. He can guess it's because Eve's appearance makes him behave like that.
But Eve was married and has children. Lucifer is married and has his own child...and he promised to stay loyal to Lilith no matter what. Would be easy in theory, but that's what the term "crush" was…Lucifer always had a crush on both Lilith and Eve.
Still, he laid his head against the pillow and silently stared at the ceiling...imagining he could see through the ceiling and staring at the portal to the Divine Heaven. He could not help but smile. He felt proud for Eve, Uriel, and even Gabriel to see them all grown up and different. Who said the oldest brother could not be proud of his younger siblings like Mom and Dad are?
And with that pride on his lips, Lucifer would gently close his eyes and gradually fall into a meditative state with one final thought in his mind.
So Dysfunctional is Lucifer's Family...
From Heaven's side.
And From Hell's Side.
And Lucifer would never trade it for anything else.
Author: If you are curious how Uriel looks like in this story. This picture bellow me is my inspiration. I love it :)
Source: https://twitter.com/KimaisAlloren/status/1399609157339140096/photo/1
Chapter 7: Expectations and Reality
Summary:
"At the lowest points, I felt how the whole Hell were against me. If not for my mother...I would not become who I'm today." - Lucifera II Morningstar (In Far Future)
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (5 days before the Extermination), 9:11 AM.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City.
As the Pentagram Moon rose in Pride's sky, a Little Demonic Raven flew above Pentagram City. It dove down and maneuvered itself around the buildings before it landed on the upside-down cross of Pentagram's local Satanic Temple. There, with the rising moon, the bird glanced up as it extended its wings to let out the song of a new day.
*Caw-*
*BAM*
The Demonic Raven immediately fell from the cross and collapsed on the road. It tried to get up, only to get run over by a taxi, who didn't even notice the bird on the road.
"Fucking vermin and their singing and shit!" A demonic Goat-like Sinner growled as he cocked his rifle from the window of the Satanic Temple. And indeed, the arrival of the next day means nothing to Sinners. The only thing what matters is survival.
So nobody woke up in Pentagram City with smiles on their faces. Well, at least for Sinners. For royalties, it was a different situation. Nearly all of them could afford to have their guards protect their property. And for Lilith Morningstar: The High Queen of Hell, it was especially the case.
She needed to get her proper sleep after...everything, really.
She literally slept like an angel as her and Lucifer's Master Bedroom was completely devoid of noise. Only the occasional tick noise from the vintage wall clock emitted. It wasn’t long before Lilith's alarm clock rang with the tune of P!nk’s - So What.
Lilith groaned under her blanket, losing her beauty sleep. Her hand appeared out of it and slowly reached for her phone to turn off the alarm. Releasing a breath, Lilith raised herself. With no makeup and a bit of messy hair, she looked like that time she had to nanny Charlie for a week. Even with the help of Asmodeus and Cain himself, it was the most stressful thing she had ever experienced.
Wiping her eyes, she reached for the other side of her bed. "Wake up, babe. It's time to-" Lilith stopped herself when she didn't feel him. She turned around to confirm if Lucifer was missing.
"Devildammit." Lilith cursed. Not surprised by it. He was probably drinking with the "Old Guard" of his...Again!
Still, it didn’t change the fact that she must make herself a proper Queen of Hell. And thus, leaving her bed, Lilith moved her nightgown's straps to make it fall off. She went to their bathroom to take a quick morning shower.
Finishing with the shower and drying her hair, Lilith wrapped herself in a towel and returned to her bedroom. She took a seat at her desk with a mirror to fix herself, starting with her hair.
Combing her hair, she took a glance at a picture of herself when she was a cabaret dancer in Lust Ring. She came from humble origins and is now Queen of the entire Hell.
And ironically: A long time ago, Lilith was nothing. Sooner or later, she was going to be disposed of after Eve was created. Now she has everything: power, respect, Fame, Glory, and most important: family. And what did her sister Eve get in the end? Nothing but misery and suffering... and that fat bitch and her asshole husband deserved all of it.
With her hair finished, she turned her attention to two lipsticks. One was purple-colored, often associated with Lust Ring: a classic style for Lilith before she became Lucifer's Queen. Another was black lipstick. Although Lilith's lips were naturally black-colored, this lipstick sort of screamed "I'm the Queen of Hell." Moreover, giving a more darker manner to it.
Although it's a weekday off for Lilith, she decided just not to bother with it and left her lips in natural color. The same went for her eyebrows, perfect as they were. All that's left was her clothes. For special events, it was always expensive and elegant. Since she didn't plan anything for today, she chose simple elegant black jeans and a white long-sleeved blouse with simple shoes.
Now with everything finished, she grabbed her phone and went to the first floor, to the kitchen. Upon arriving at it, she noticed a green snake was busy washing the apples in the sink. The sight was particularly amusing, knowing that Lilith rarely saw him working. Mostly he just dozed off in his box or tried to give some excuses for the Morningstars not to kill him, using the excuse of how he was sick with Septicemia. One time he tried to argue that he had Lumbago to Lucifer. By his quote, "worse fate than Satanic Drain, my dear brother."
With the sounds of splashing suppressing the Serpent's hearing, Lilith got an idea as there was quite an opportunity. And so the Queen gently and carefully sneaked towards the unsuspected Eden's Snake.
"HELLO, SERPENT!" Lilith chirped out suddenly with a Demonic voice. Serpent yelped and nearly lost his grip on the apple, preventing the worst outcome of it. Morningstar's apples are quite fragile if you drop them.
Serpent turned off his sink, blinked two times to process what had just happened before turning his head at a grinning Lilith.
"WHAT THE FUCK, LILITH!?" He exclaimed loudly, though he held his frustration not to call her out with meaner words. Serpent was able to at least bark back at Lucifer. He allowed it. Lilith was... another situation for him.
Lilith sighed, annoyed at how he never learned his manners.
*Ahem*. She coughed in a fake tone, tapping her feet to provide more hints for Serpent, if he was that stupid.
The Green Snake Of Eden rolled his eyes. But still, there was nothing he could do, and thus he complied. He raised his tail to mimic his salute to her.
"Greetings, your Highness and Majesty Queen Lilith Morningstar: The First TRUE Woman of Mankind, The Great Sucubbus, the Daughter of the Dark Lord and manytittlesthati'mdefinetlynotgoingtopronouncebecausei'moutofbreath!"
And then the Serpent started to gasp for air very loudly. Seriously, what's with the 6 Kings and one High King having 100 titles? Lilith grimly smirked at him. Her trick worked flawlessly to make him humiliated. She hoped Serpent still didn't forget how he caused her to crash on Charlie's trophy display by making Lucifer drunk. Because she was still not done with him.
"See, snake?" She brought her hand to her chest as if she was flattered by Serpent's proclamation. "Even your dildo-head can show some respect now and then."
"Says the one who made me into a purse for a joke." Serpent grumbled.
"Hey! It's either that or making you into a sex-toy." Lilith exclaimed in a fake tone. She took a chance to like Cleopatra's photo on Voxtagram. "My ex would have loved that idea! But hey, apparently even the Succubus Queen herself has some standards."
"Since when do you have standards? Even before Charlie was born, you and Lucifer had some nasty moments. I had to put earplugs on so I wouldn't hear your moans."
"Good thing my husband kept me occupied then. Otherwise, I might have to use you instead."
"Seriously: screw you, Lilith!" Serpent grumbled, turning the sink on to continue washing the new batch of apples.
"Everyone wants to screw me, Serpent." Lilith then took the opportunity to snatch the cleaned apple from Snake's tail. "Best for you to join the long line, my dear pet." Lilith sneered at him. She could hear how Serpent grumbled to himself, not amused by this sarcasm of hers. He opted just to turn around to continue his work.
Still, her curiosity about the apple's quality took hold of her, and she decided to take a bite. She made a positive moan from the taste. "Not bad, Serpent. Crispy and quite fresh."
"Got lucky for this month, I guess." Serpent commented quietly, he was still busy washing apples with his tail.
"Definitely, you know that I do not tolerate rotten apples." Lilith mischievously hinted. The Queen then took another bite, enjoying the taste. While chewing, she glanced at that Parasite and noticed something... off with him.
"Did you shed your skin, Serpent?" Lilith asked genuinely this time. "You're a bit shiny for some reason..." She then leaned closer to him to make sure if she was right in her assessment. She really can't tell if his skin really shined, or if she is just getting crazy with age.
"Oh, um... It's snake lotion...I just smeared it on me yesterday." Serpent nervously replied.
"Since when do you have it?" Lilith awkwardly asked. Suddenly, she felt rather odd to herself.
"I bought it...with Lucifer's Souls." Serpent lied, avoiding his glare at her. He then gave an awkward nod, ending with a simple "Yeah..."
There was no reply as Lilith continued to stare at him, who was already biting her lip and licking them...sensually. It took a very awkward minute for Serpent to notice she was getting reddish.
"Um, Lilith?
"What?"
"You're blushing...you didn't take your Anti-S.S.D pills yet?" Serpent pointed out, deadpanned. Also, getting ready to crawl like HELL if he thinks what it is. Otherwise... well...let's just say there is a difference between knowing what's inside of humans...or to see it with your own eyes...sheesh.
"Dammit!" She slammed her fist against the table, now realizing what was going on with her. "You're correct, I forgot to take them. Excuse me for a moment."
Lilith raised and took no time to get her jar out of the kitchen cupboard and swallow at least one pill for today. As The Original Succubus, she suffers from random waves of arousal every now and then. In older days, to combat these, she had to commence sexual intercourse with anyone from the Hellborn species. Sinners also work, but it's often not enough to satisfy her, not to mention how it can lead to double death for the sinner. Asmodeus, then later Lucifer provided her with relief, saving her reputation. As Cleopatra once said, it's best just to show off how sexy you are to the public, rather than for the entire hell to witness how good you're in bed.
But nowadays, old habits died with simple medicine from the Gluttony Ring. Charlie, even more, got lucky as she doesn't even need to take these pills. She was 80% Fallen Angel/Demon while only 10% Succubus/Human. It's better that way. Lilith couldn't imagine who would help her if Charlie was in her "arousal" stage.
"Phew, what relief." Lilith released a breath, feeling good now that her arousal was being suppressed. "Speaking of reliefs...have you seen Lucifer?"
Serpent stopped and froze like a statue, getting worried. Should he say that he went to Heaven with Eve to forge a secret alliance, she was going to burn the entire Pride Ring in rage. Oh, and she will murder him...because, of course, she will!
"Oh, uhh. I don't know really. Never told me anything..." Snake lied, it's a good thing Lilith can't see his face.
"Your cardboard box is in the living room." Lilith complained as she took the kitchen stool and sat on it, reaching for her phone from the pocket. "If he left the mansion, you would hear them."
"Maybe he teleported himself or some shit. Besides, I'm a good sleeper."
"Useless waste of space is what you are..." Lilith growled at him, which made Serpent nervous. He doesn't want to become a purse again...or a sex toy. But, luckily for him, his Queen took her attention to one of Lucifer's phones, just an extra as her goofy-goober easily loses stuff. Since her sleep, he apparently received a couple of new messages. One of them is from...Octavia?!
"Interesting..." Lilith hummed to herself, surprised at that. Rarely does her niece from Ars Goetia write to her.
To the Most Fair King of our Hell.
On behalf of the entire Ars Goetia, we raise our swords and bow our heads to the entire Morningstar Dynasty, congratulating the young and beautiful Charlotte Morningstar on reaching adulthood.
We watched as Charlotte was baptized in the name of our Dark Lord. We watched how she grew into the woman she is today.
Now we will wait both patiently and eagerly for her eventual ascension into the next queen after you, great one.
Know the entire Ars Goetia is forever loyal to your cause and will serve your daughter when the time comes.
- Your Faithful Servant, the 36th Spirit of the Ars Goetia and a Great Prince of Hell, Commander of the Twenty-Sixth Legion: Stolas Goetia.
Although it's a bit formal for Lilith's tastes, she still smiled at that message. Yet this surprise was not over as another message was sent 2 hours after the last one.
Hey, Uncle.
Sorry for that nonsense written above. I have no idea why Uncle Astaroth keeps pestering my Dad to write these bs messages. I guess that's his thing.
Regardless, I just want to write that I'm happy for my cousin, too. >:)
I have been thinking to myself whether I ever plan to leave my parents or not for a while. Apparently, Charlie beat me to it with her decision. Lucky her.
Oh, and if you see her, tell her I said hi. I seriously cannot fathom why she doesn't have a Voxtagram account.
- Octavia
P.S: I love Aunt Lilith's newest album, btw! "Resist" is now permanently on my playlist!
After finishing reading, Lilith quickly wrote the reply. Octavia at least deserves some reply.
Hey, Via.
I appreciate you and your father for taking your time to write to me. You never fail to surprise me.
Charlie has been planning to leave us for a while. My Cinnamon little belle had some of her own reasons to leave us, but we are still in contact with her.
If you ever plan to leave your home, I recommend you think about it further and not rush it, my dearest.
I know you're quite burdened with your parents. Believe me, I also had loveless marriage before...
But I hope everything will be alright for you. If you ever need help, just come, and visit me, my nestling. You're always welcome in the Pentagram.
- Your Uncle Lucifer.
P.S: I'm sure that Lilith will appreciate this. >:)
Sending the message, Lilith glanced up to tell Serpent the news. "Now Ars Goetia has received news of Charlie's departure."
"Ooooh, our Goetia bros." Serpent laughed although still was nervous if Lilith was going to get angry. "The news is spreading quite fast, eh?"
"Too fast." Lilith shook her head. If not for politics, she wouldn't be worried if the rest of Hell learns of Charlie's departure. "All that's left is the Lord Regent with Beelzebub and Mammon."
"What about Queen Belphegor?"
"Oh, please! She already knows everything...I mean, when was the last time you ever saw her outside of the endless video streams of hers?"
"Eh, fair point." Serpent agreed. He himself should probably watch Belphegor's streams more often. He heard that Belphegor is planning to stream DOOM Eternal on March 20 of the next year, the same day the game releases. Although the DOOM series was banned in Hell for "Heaven Propaganda", Belphegor always somehow got her merchandise from the Mortal World. Lucky bastard...
With no word, Lilith continued to scroll her messages. Most of them were nothing special. The Great Witch of the Sabbath: Azazel herself reminded everyone in Voxtagram's Stygian Council Group that the next session will be on January 2, the next day after the extermination. Of course, Mammon replied first: in his endless repertoire of accusing Azazel of trying to shut down Loo Loo Land.
Overlord Rosie also wrote Lucifer in a private message, offering a 75% discount on vintage dresses for Lilith. Shame, she didn’t like the vintage style that much, but she could give Rosie some credit as she was quite an amazing tailor. Out of all Lucifer's Overlords, Lilith especially liked her. Although, her business partner, Franklin, was quite an ass in Lucifer's meetings. Why did Rosie need him? Lilith didn’t know. And then there was Bethesda Von Eldritch's message, demanding Lucifer to get over it and just pay them the compensation for losing the Happy Casino. A simple "No" message and a block solved the problem.
"Let's see if he will answer the phone," Lilith said to herself, searching for Lucifer's contacts and bringing her phone to her ear.
*Dial*
...
*Dial*
"Lucifer's Auto Responder: Lucifer Morningstar, if this is my overlord, then hippity-hoppity you're double deathity! I told you to NEVER call me!"
"And if it's Lilith or Charlie: Hello, apple pies. I'm pretty busy right now, so please leave a message after my smooch sound...*Smooch*
*BEEP*
"Oh, you little-"
*Voice Message Ends*
"First getting drunk and now this...great." Lilith sighed and canceled the call, it's pointless to even send a voice message to him. He never answered these.
"Pity him. He took it hard after you left him, you know. Now Charlie leaving didn't make it any better" Serpent comforted.
"I just don't understand why he would be. Our daughter is a woman now. Luci should be proud now that Charlie can take care of herself." Lilith complained.
"It's not like that." Serpent turned off the sink once again. "Think of it: before his fall, Lucifer was a sort of "Family" angel...or a demon in this case. But even after we were exiled to Pre-Hell, he was so fucking depressed I could say he was a different Lucifer than today. You and Charlie changed him, Lilith. And departing with Charlie is like having him experience a second exile."
"But Luci-"
"Don't use Lucifer's failings as an excuse." Serpent interrupted. "Lucifer at least said goodbye, despite Charlie always clinging to you."
"Charlie is now an independent woman, Serpent. She doesn't need me anymore." Lilith dismissed his worries.
"But it doesn't give you an excuse to never say goodbye!" the Green Snake protested, shaking his head before continuing more calmly. "Listen, I understand that you must uphold your part of the deal, I get that... and you're certainly good at it... First Woman and all that. But that doesn't mean Charlie doesn't have a mother. Even though Charlie is now an adult, you are still her mother."
Lilith bit her lip and remained silent, her fingers tapping anxiously against the table. The Serpent could see that she was conflicted.
"Lilith..." The Serpent slithered closer, hoping to capture her attention. "Are you scared of seeing her?"
"Scared?!" Lilith exclaimed mockingly. "I am the Queen of Hell; I am not scared of anything!"
"Liiiliith," the Serpent warned, his tone gentle but firm. "I invented the concept of lying; I can always tell when someone is lying to me."
"No! It's just... I—" Lilith struggled to find an excuse, but nothing came to her mind.
"Come on, Lilith," the Serpent coaxed softly. "She is your daughter. She wouldn't care about your weaknesses... just visit Charlie. Ask her how she's been. It will make you both feel better."
Lilith closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, the weight of the world seemingly on her shoulders. Maybe Lucifer was right a week ago when he suggested she was using her obligations as an excuse to avoid facing Charlie. She had convinced herself that Charlie needed to forget them to become a Good Woman and a future Queen. But now, even visiting her seemed an insurmountable challenge.
The Serpent knew her well. Deep down, Lilith was still an emotional wreck, a consequence of being cast aside for Eve. The Green Snake sympathized with her. Lilith had loved Adam once, but nobody had taught them that other people were not tools to be used.
The rest was history...
"I can't, Serpent," Lilith shook her head in defeat. "Seven years of my absence, and now just to appear in front of Charlie... I don't want to burden her more than she already is."
The Serpent sighed, understanding the pain and fear Lilith was harboring. "Lilith, you are not a burden. Charlie has grown up without you, yes, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need you. Your absence has been a heavy weight on her shoulders. Imagine the relief she would feel knowing her mother cares enough to reach out."
Lilith's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "But what if she hates me for leaving her? What if my presence only brings her more pain?"
"That's a risk you have to take," the Serpent said gently. "But love often requires us to take risks. And remember, it’s never too late to mend broken ties. Charlie might be hurt, but she will also appreciate your effort to reconnect."
Lilith sat silently, contemplating the Serpent's words. The fear of rejection loomed large, but so did the hope for reconciliation. She had spent years running from her past, but perhaps it was time to face it...or not. After a long pause, Lilith shook her head slowly.
"No, I can't do it. I just can't face her after all this time. But... maybe you could go in my stead. Visit Charlie, see how she is, and let her know that I think about her every day."
"Are you sure, Lilith? This is something only you can truly do." The Serpent looked at her thoughtfully.
"I'm sure." Lilith nodded, her expression resolute but sorrowful.
The Serpent sighed but accepted her decision. "Alright, Lilith. I'll go see Charlie."
"Thank you," Lilith whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. "Tell her... tell her I love her."
"I will, Lilith. I will." With a final nod, the Serpent turned to leave.
As the Serpent departed, Lilith sat alone with her thoughts, hoping that one day, she would find the strength to face her daughter and make amends for the years of absence.
But that won't be soon...
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City/Northen Side of the City.
With less than a week before the Extermination, Pentagram City is mostly desolated right now. Only the occasional hobo or junkie could be found on the streets; they had already sealed their fate with the exorcists. Somehow, without the population, Pentagram was quite peaceful. Yes, it was still a shithole by Hell's standards, but it had charm, in Rosie's own words.
Serpent traveled around the Pentagram City, avoiding the main roads and using anything to not been seen by Sinners, eventually crawling to where the Happy Casino stood. Ironically, like with Lilith, Serpent was still quite tense to see Charlie in the flesh...let's hope everything will work out for the better.
Once Happy Casino was in his vicinity, he reached the rusted front gate of Casino's front yard and took a long glance at the building. And of course, the casino is completely rundown, deteriorated, and rusted to hell. All of Leviathan's and Lucifer's money went to waste in the end...
The history of Happy Casino was a bit absurd, even for Serpent who is somewhat familiar. Originally, the Casino was sort of a landmark of friendship between the Pride Ring and the Envy Ring. Yet, Leviathan is known to be an observer and isolationist in the Stygian Council. He never made attempts to befriend or go for negotiations with the rest of the Kings. To him, the Envy Ring must go first rather than the rest of Hell.
But, as smart as he is, Lucifer used the greatest advantage against Leviathan: his children. Both Frederick and Bethesda of the Von Eldritch Dynasty were quite supportive of Lucifer's position. And time and time again showed how Frederick opposed Leviathan's politics.
As such, her husband offered Frederick to form a "union" between Pride and Envy, promising that Charlie would marry Seviathan when she ascended to her throne. Of course, these two accepted while Leviathan was so fucking furious that he officially threatened the blockade of any shipment from the Lower Rings to the Higher Rings from Envy.
Strangely, Leviathan eventually stepped down when he learned that Seviathan and Charlie were lovers already. It was enough to hear that his grandson was happy with Charlie accepting Lucifer's offer. And, as compensation for his earlier behavior, Leviathan offered Lucifer to build the sort of building that solidified the union of Charlie and Seviathan.
And this was where Happy Casino was born. Planned by Morningstars, financed by Von Eldtrichs, and built by Mulciber: The Great Architect. Oh, and that ship on the building was Sev's idea. That boy had a strange sense of humor...but Serpent quite missed...funny boy he was.
But the casino, unfortunately, didn't last long. Charlie and Seviathan break up for their own reasons. Some tension between Lucifer and Frederick, and Leviathan calling Lucifer a "Parasite" turned the Happy Casino into what it is now: a shadow of its former self.
Crawling through the hole, Serpent then proceeded closer to the building. Reaching the front door, he was about to knock with his tail but stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath to gather his confidence.
*Knock Knock*
Serpent then gently lowered his tail and held them together, waiting for any sound of the knob clicking and that sweet voice of "Uncle Serpent!". But 20 seconds was enough for Serpent to knock again, in a more aggressive manner. How rude of them to make their trickster to wait.
"I already told you, pendejos! THIS IS NOT YOUR PROPERTY! SO GET OUT, OR I BREAK YOUR JAW AGAIN!"
"Those sinners, I tell you." Serpent murmured, before shouting back. "IS THIS HOW YOU TREAT YOUR GUESTS?! AND WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO BE IN CHARLIE'S PROPERTY?!"
Luckily for Serpent, his trick worked as he heard the grumble before the door was opened and some kind of Moth-Demon appeared. She is quite messy with her hair completely "destroyed". Judging by the mood, she seemed to be tired from chore work. Her remaining eye already had a bruise that proves Lilith's claim.
"Who's there?" Moth-Demon asked, confused as nobody was in front door.
"Down there, sinner." Serpent sighed.
She looked down only to see a literal talking snake on the entrance, grumpily looking back at her. That only raised even more questions.
"Before you ask: Yes, I'm that Snake of Eden, bla-bla-bla. I have come to visit Charlie. She is my...niece in theory"
"Sure, come on in." The moth-demon without any more words, moved away. Serpent took no second to enter inside with that female sinner closing the door behind her. Immediately, Serpent saw that Charlie have been busy working this past week. The main hall was quite clean from dust. Well, mostly, that is, it still needed some scrubbing there and there.
"So, what was with you and "pendejos" miss...um?" Serpent neutrally asked as he took her attention to the wall of Morningstar's family pictures.
"Vaggie. Just some hobos claiming they were living here...had to break a jaw from one of them before they left." Vaggie complained quietly, her knuckles still hurting a bit.
The Serpent chuckled at that. "Shame I missed it. I would've loved to see that in action. You're a friend of Charlie's?"
Vaggie nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Yeah, you could say that. Charlie is upstairs, in her room. She's been... working on a schedule plan for -" She then stopped as sudden rage from even thinking of that "Spider Asshole" emerged. But she clenched her hand into a fist. It at least helped to keep her in control. "our client."
"I can imagine." The Serpent gave her a sympathetic look, happy that Charlie is managing well. "If you don't mind, could you ask her to come down?"
"CHARLIE, WE HAVE A GUEST!" Vaggie called out.
"Is Angel home?" Charlie's voice can be heard.
"Wh-NO! IT'S...JUST COME HERE, PLEASE! YOU RUIN THE SUPRISE!" Vaggie shouted back, with a smile.
"Okay, just give me a minute!"
With a nod, Vaggie then laid her spear on the receptionist's desk and took a mop to continue cleaning for today.
"Apparently your first client is called Angel Dust or something." Serpent commented, glancing at picture with Charlie in 1871 AD. He could not help but smile at it. It was him who took the picture, much to his dismay.
"Yeah, we found him "whoring" around on the streets during our ride a week ago." Vaggie again dove her mop into a bucket of water. "Charlie took an interest and from our conversation with him, believes he is going to be successful."
"And how did it turn out?"
"Not quite what we expected...." Vaggie growled to herself before pouring her mop into the bucket. "Well, I can already say that Angel is the biggest sexist asshole I have ever witnessed."
The Serpent chuckled at her frustration. "Sounds like quite the pain in the ass for you."
"That's putting it mildly. But I'm ready to tolerate his presence if needed...well, try to tolerate him." Vaggie muttered, continuing her cleaning. "But Charlie believes in him, so we're giving it a shot. But I'm afraid that Adam and -"
"Uncle!!"
Vaggie instantly became silent as the door opened and Serpent turned in the direction of the sound. There stood a young princess in a white shirt with suspenders and black trousers, standing on the stairway, speechless as she stared at her uncle, both shocked and happy. Unlike Vaggie, Charlie looked just as he remembered her—full of energy and hope. Without hesitation, she ran down the stairs and embraced her uncle with full passion.
"UNCLE SERPENT!" Charlie cheered, laughing in joy.
"My Little Charlie! How I missed you... And look at you: now the proud owner of her own hotel," Serpent commented, feeling quite proud.
"And now with the first client! Oh, Uncle, I can't believe it's happening. I had my doubts, but... it's happening!" Charlie chirped in, releasing her uncle from the embrace but still holding him in her hands. Vaggie smiled at Charlie's enthusiasm, remaining silent out of respect as she continued to mop the floor.
"Is dad here as well?" Charlie asked, her eyes hopeful.
"He..." Serpent paused, looking down a bit in shame. He didn’t want Charlie to know about Lucifer's recent shenanigans. "Your Pa is a bit busy at the moment, my Morningstar. But he sends his regards... I hope."
"Oh..." Charlie said, her disappointment evident. She had wanted to show her father proof that she could make redemption possible. "Well... I'm still glad you came, Uncle."
"You're welcome, Charlie. Your Uncle Stolas and Octavia also send their regards."
"Really?!" Charlie gasped, her excitement returning. "They support my idea of redemption?!"
"I mean, they are happy more that you're independent," Serpent explained awkwardly, trying not to disappoint her.
"Oh, okay... I just thought that after Uncle Leviathan sent me a gift of 2,000 souls, some of my other uncles and aunts would join my cause. Shame..."
"...He did what?!" Serpent repeated, stunned. There was a pause as Serpent tried to process the information: Leviathan had sent her a gift?!
"Yeah, true story, Uncle. He wrote a letter praising me for pursuing my own ambition."
Serpent sighed in frustration. Devildamn, that fishy son of a bitch, he thought. Like Lilith, he knew Leviathan was trying to influence Charlie with his own ideology.
"Just use his money smartly, kiddo. But be careful with him in the future, okay?"
"Why? Uncle Levy is quite nice to me."
"Just a word of advice."
"Well, okay then." Charlie shrugged, still not understanding why her uncle didn't like Leviathan. She then turned to Vaggie to see if she needed help with cleaning. Of course, her girlfriend gave a thumbs-up that she would handle it. "How about I show you our bedroom?"
"That would be delightful."
"Sweet!"
Charlie gently placed her uncle around her neck and moved up to the second floor. Vaggie gave a little wave to them, wishing them the best. Like the main floor, all of the floors Serpent saw were mostly clean already. Of course, they still needed some refurbishing and a bit of leveling.
"Me and Vaggie's room is on the top floor; it has the best view of Pentagram! We put Angel on the second floor."
"Where is he, by the way?"
"He's working and...well, he usually returns very late. You should see his pig, Uncle. It's so adorable!" Charlie gushed upon mentioning Angel's pet.
"A pig?"
"Uh-huh, Fat Nuggets. Not sure why Angel named him like that."
"Is his pig native to the Wrath Ring?"
"I think so..."
"Well, that's why..." Serpent rolled his eyes. Damn Imps and their ridiculous sense of humor.
They reached the top floor, and Charlie guided her uncle to their room. Opening the door, both Razzle and Dazzle perked up and immediately jumped off Charlie's bed to greet them.
"Hey, you two! Remember Uncle Serpent?!" Charlie introduced, smiling warmly at her tiny demonic companions.
"Nice to see you both," Serpent said, amused at their enthusiasm, as he rubbed his tail against Dazzle's snout while Charlie petted Razzle so he wouldn't be jealous. Dazzle tried to lick Serpent's snout, but Charlie's uncle moved his head away slightly, gesturing for him not to do that again.
"They missed you!" Charlie chuckled, petting Razzle.
"Tsk, of course they did. They're like babies that never grow up," Serpent then glanced at Dazzle. "Aren't you, goat boy?"
Dazzle yawned in response, barely blinking as he slowly fell asleep.
"Aww, they rarely fall asleep when I hold them."
"It comes with experience, Charlie. Someone had to nanny them as well." Serpent chuckled, crawling towards their bed and relaxing, still nursing a sleepy Dazzle by rubbing his back with his tail. "I remember how Lilith used the same technique on you. Just make Razzle rest comfortably on your lap."
Charlie then repositioned Razzle just as her uncle instructed. It worked! Razzle got comfortable in Charlie's arms and slowly closed his eyes.
"It's effective..." Charlie smiled, still holding her baby in her arms as she joined her uncle on the bed.
Serpent looked around the room. Indeed, it was quite spacious, fitting the "top-deluxe" hotels in Hell's rating system. If Vaggie and Charlie fixed it up, it could rival Lucifer and Lilith's master bedroom. In the meantime, no one said a word as Charlie focused on Razzle, gently caressing his back. Serpent, on the other hand, smiled more, seeing her like this.
"How have you been, Charlie?" Serpent asked gently.
Charlie blinked twice and paused caressing Razzle for a moment. She bit her lip, not sure where to start.
"To be honest, I thought it was going to be easy..." Charlie admitted with a sigh. "But the hotel is...in ruins. We searched for the first client for six hours and... I'm still not quite sure about Angel Dust."
"Are you regretting taking him?"
"No! Angel is...well, I can see he's a broken demon behind that spider shell. I'm not sure if I can help him."
"Vaggie said you came up with a plan for him," Serpent commented.
Charlie gently smacked her forehead.
"Oh yeah! How clumsy of me. I nearly forgot to show you my greatest invention." Charlie gently laid Razzle on the bed. She skipped to her drawer and took out her handbook. "So, uh, this is my hotel's management book... kinda. I know Dad keeps one somewhere, so I decided to make my own." Charlie then returned and opened the book to show her plans. The first page was about the hotel's official name. "Me and Vaggie already discussed the name for our hotel. But tell me which one you like the most."
Serpent glanced at the sketches. Charlie had drawn pretty sketches for her hotel banner on the rooftop. There was the Happy Hotel, the Rainbow Hotel, the Hell Hotel, the Star Hotel, the Charlie Hotel...Pony Hotel?
"Charlie... why the Pony Hotel?" Serpent asked uneasily.
"I like ponies."
"...what does that have to do with your hotel?"
"Um... because I love ponies." Charlie shrugged.
"Kiddo, even I know your hotel's name must have meaning behind it..."
"Well... how about the Rainbow Hotel?" Charlie jabbed her finger at the sketch. "It's a fitting name; I want everyone to be happy at the hotel."
"I think you should go with the Happy Hotel," Serpent suggested, pointing at the sketch. "Simple, straightforward, and... not a laughing stock."
The young princess hummed at that. Vaggie also liked the Happy Hotel name... yeah. It's fitting. Charlie then grabbed her pencil from the drawer and took a few seconds, tapping the pencil's eraser against her cheek, thinking if she wanted to go with Happy Hotel as a name. Then she finally decided.
"Okay! By the power of my pencil! Happy Hotel it is then!"
Proclaiming, Charlie drew a tick to Happy's Hotel banner. Serpent nodded in approval; an excellent decision. Ten times better name than... Pony Hotel.
"So, I presume you are changing the banners?"
"Yeah, we plan to order tomorrow, using Leviathan's gift." Charlie then flipped to the next page. It contained a detailed layout of the hotel's first floor. "Oh! This is my plan of the hotel's rooms. Where the slot machines are, is going to be a choir room."
"Choir?" Serpent repeated.
"Yeah! Like a singing choir... so we could all hold hands together as we sing our favorite songs."
"Okaaay..." Serpent wasn't sure what to say to that.
"Oh, and a movie room!" Charlie pointed to the east wing of the first floor. "We're planning to have a special Movie Friday every week. I heard there's quite a good movie called 'Frozen'."
"Well, that's okay in my book." Serpent shrugged. Movie Friday did sound interesting. "But do you have any... restaurant, bar, or... sauna?"
"I... well... not exactly sure." Charlie scratched her back. She had completely forgotten about the restaurant... and Vaggie had mentioned it at least a few times. They had kind of made everything free for their tenants... ah, should have thought further...
"...and what about Angel's schedule?" Serpent added further.
"Um, here it is." Charlie flipped a few pages and gave Serpent her handbook.
Angel Dust's Rehabilitation Plan by Charlie :)
Monday: Dancing!
Tuesday: More Dancing!
Wednesday: Siiiinging!
Thursday: ??? (Vaggie might help with the idea)
Friday: Movies!
Saturday: Razzle and Dazzle hug day! *Print of a hoof*
Sunday: Off-day
When Serpent finished, he slowly shifted her glance at Charlie. The face of...like someone gave him a plate of Eldritch Squid from Envy Ring.
"So what do you think?" Charlie asked.
Serpent straightened himself before addressing. "Charlie, my dear. Could you show me your report on Angel Dust?"
"Umm...yeah it's on few pages." Charlie flipped the handbook to the next pages. "There he is."
Subject: Angel Dust
Sex: Male (Note to myself, try not to mistake him. Vaggie already made him angry once)
Date Of Death: June 12, 1947
Cause of Death: Drug Overdose
Nationality:
Spanish
ITALIAN-American!
Occupation: Sex Worker
Date of Joining the Hotel: 16 December 2019 AD.
Behaviour Record in Hotel (For this Week):
Bad Introduction
Ignore of Schedules
Inappropriate behavior
Insults to Vaggie: 51
Insults to me (Charlie): 2
Racist Jokes: 12
Sexist Jokes: 7
Foul language: around 1 to 100
Sexual Harassment: 39 (Note: check on Hellnet what defines the term "sexual harassment")
Overall rating: C+ { Plus for allowing me to hold Fat Nuggets :) }
Finishing, Serpent slowly shifted her worried glance at Charlie, who is swinging her head left and right at the sound of a clock ticking.
"Charlie, before leaving us...are you sure you had any pre-planning, or did you just...skipped around like a pony?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well..."Serpent flips back to where Angel Dust's plan is. "This is not what I would call a plan...it's just...a schedule of random activities."
Charlie only replied with a gloomy expression. She doesn't have the answer as well, but, sadly...her uncle is quite right. She competently ignored pre-planning in favor of fulfilling her dreams. Vaggie was right...again. And so Young Morningstar then raised herself from the bed and slowly made it to the balcony. When she said she had the best view of Pentagram, she also meant to say she had a great view of the Heaven Embassy’s Clock Tower...
NEXT CLEANSE
[ ] [ 5 ] [ ]
DAYS
As a reminder of what she is fighting against, and that very small number shows how much she loses this fight.
"Uncle..." Charlie weakly called it as she laid her hands against the rail, taking a long stare at the clock. "Is Dad really right about me...have I always been a failure?"
Serpent was not sure what to say to that. "Failure" was a subjective term that can mean anything. Instead, he joined Charlie on the balcony.
"Charlie, I know Lucifer like my two fangs. Your dad is just worried at best. You're still quite young to see the full picture. But it doesn't mean you're a failure."
"But, I don't understand him!" Charlie pointed at the White Planet in Hell's sky. "Why can't Dad just allow sinners to have a chance to enter Heaven?! I heard many things about how this place was meant to be a paradise. Down here our people suffer for what? Everyone deserves a second chance...and this is not fair."
Serpent really wants to be honest on that matter. But Charlie is still not ready for Hell's politics...and ancient blood feuds since the time memorial.
"I know it's not fair, sweety belle. My time in Eden was not fair...even in here it was slightly better." Serpent then crawled closer and laid his tail on Charlie's shoulder. "Nothing is fair in this existence...but only strength and courage will drive you forward. Know this: If your dad thinks you're a failure...then show him you're not. Do not give up if you fail once or twice, all the matter is sooner or later... you will succeed."
Serpent then finished with a gentle squeeze. Charlie was silent to that but produced a faint smile.
"I...I need your advice, uncle." Charlie said straightforwardly, before addressing. Charlie glanced at the city, imagining every poor sinner who didn't deserve this afterlife. "I really want my people to know I'm opening this hotel for them. I already tried with pamphlets and...it didn't work out. I'm now aiming for something bigger that can get us attention. What do you think about a radio show? I think it will be easier for us to promote the Hotel."
"I don't recommend it, my Star." Serpent said with an eerie look. "Otherwise, you will have to deal with one of your Dad's rarely seen Overlords that have been absent for 7 years..."
"Oh, you mean... him ." Charlie suggested, to which Serpent nodded slowly. That option was immediately crossed away in Charlie's mind. "Then what's left is a direct news outlet. But I'm not sure I'm ready for it."
"If you really want this then, I'm not stopping you. More power to you, my dear." Serpent assured. "But remember: never rush your decisions, Charlie. Take your time to prepare yourself. Talk with Vaggie if necessary. Make sure you're prepared "
"Okay..." Charlie whispered, confidence raising immediately thanks to Serpent's words. "Okay, uncle. I will try."
And with that, Serpent made a nod, quite proud for her. He hopes that Charlie will be lucky with what she is planning in her future endeavors.. "Well, it's been very fun to catch up with you, kiddo. But I probably don't need to disturb you anymore."
"Aww, it's a fine uncle. You're always welcome to visit again. Plus, I don't have anything that needs my attention. I'm a bit tired of myself with Angel's behaviour." Charlie yawned. "You already saw Vaggie...she cleaned the hotel for 2 hours"
"Eh, I like her. It's good to have a very loyal slav-I mean friend that always has your back, Charlie." Serpent nearly slipped.
"Yeah, she has been quite helpful..." Charlie then once again yawned and stretched her back. Seeing things like that, Serpent only knew the one thing that would help Charlie.
"I see you're very tired...there is nothing wrong to just lie down and rest for a bit. Remember what your papa told you? Even the brightest stars need time to recharge. Don't underestimate the power of a little rest."
Serpent's suggestion seemed to resonate with Charlie. She nodded in agreement, acknowledging the wisdom of a snake.
"You're right, uncle," Charlie admitted, stifling another yawn. "I could use a bit of rest. It's been quite a day."
Charlie settled back onto the bed, closing her eyes as she let out a contented sigh.
"Comfortable, my dear?"
"Yeah, I really needed that. Thank you, uncle. " Charlie sighed, relaxed now. Razzle and Dazzle also joined Charlie as they laid their heads on her arms. "I appreciate your advice. And... I'm glad you're here."
This was so perfect for Charlie. This week was stressful already with bringing the Happy Hotel to its proper state, not to add Angel's shenanigans. She could not thank her Uncle more for making her feel relaxed. It's been ages since she was rested like this. She used to remember how her Uncle used to read stories...and one of them was about how Lilith sacrificed paradise to be free.
...
Oh, mom.
"Uncle Serpent..." Charlie spoke softly, breaking the silence. "Do you think... I'll ever see my mom again?"
"I'm not sure, Charlie." Serpent hesitated for a moment before responding, choosing his words carefully. "Your mom... she's in a very complicated situation. But one thing is certain: no matter where she is, Lilith always thinks about you. You're her daughter, and her love for you is unwavering."
"Yeah...Mom..." Charlie whispered, sniffling a bit. "You and Mom used to tell me the stories of the Eden Garden, how it was a paradise for you too. Do..do you miss these times...when everything was simple and perfect?"
Serpent smiled at that as he knows why she is asking. Charlie simply compares her life in the Morningstar Mansion as a sort of her own paradise. Now that she left it, she is wondering how her own mom experienced it.
"Charlie, it doesn't really matter anymore..."
"All that matters: we still have you."
1 hour later.
Finally!
With the one last scrub of the floor, Vaggie was done for today. Dropping the mop on the floor, she fell on the couch with a strong thump, taking deep sighs of relief. They seriously needed to hire an additional crew to handle the maintenance. Still much to do and still not much done. Otherwise, Vaggie could not handle the entire thing. She least now can feel both mentally and physically good. And with no presence of their client...she is in her little Heaven.
*Ring*
"Too soon, V." Vaggie said to herself, groaning loudly. But as the manager of the Hotel... she accepted the call just for the sake of it. "Happy Hotel, what can I help you with?"
"HEY, Toots! Hope your panties are not twisted enough to speak with me!" Her phone rang out, followed by gunshots, explosions, and screaming in the distance: Yep, it means only one thing.
Angel Dust
"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit, Angel!"
Somewhere in Pentagram.
"Aww, seems Charlie didn't give you any "scissoring" recently. What a shame!" Angel Dust laughed, holding his Thompson closer to his chest as he is covering himself from incoming bullets. "Hey, you can always talk with me about your relationship. My fans pay me to hear their bullshit!"
"No!" Vaggie shouted back, making Angel move his phone a bit. "If you have any reason to call me. Then say it!"
"Sure thing, Sugar. Long story short: my friend pissed off some Tony Montana guy...probably because she is a friend of the kinkiest spider in Hell, hehe!" Angel laughed for a second, taking his moment to gun down a mobster and give him a middle finger. That idiot tried to charge at Angel's position in the open. "ANYWAY! I'm helping her right now. Tell Charlie I won't be available for her "oral performance", will ya?"
"A-are you fucking serious?!" Vaggie exclaimed. "We told you not to cause chaos while you're a tenant!"
"Reelaax, baby!" Angel assured her. "Everything is under control."
*Tire Screeching in Distance."
"Excuse me for a moment..." Angel then directed his attention at this friend. "Oi, Cheeri! Hand me your grenade launcher for a moment, will ya?"
On another side of the warehouse, a cyclops demon literally unleashed Hell with bombs, dynamites, and RPGs on the gangsters. She ducked herself to reload her RPG with another rocket while also picking a grenade launcher for her besty.
"Make it BIG, Angie!" She tossed a grenade launcher, which Angel perfectly caught in the air.
Soon, the gates of the Warehouse were crushed as another pair of cars with mobsters joined the fight. If they only knew how Cherri Bomb mined the entire courtyard before the fight. Now that it's time to fuck these boys up.
Angel Dust vaulted from cover and used his Spider Jump to gain ground, aiming his launcher.
"Saoynara bitch yass!"
He released the large-caliber projectile, causing a massive wave of explosions that caught the entire convoy of reinforcements, wiping out most of them.
"YOU FUCKING COCK-A-ROACHES!" A Wolf Demon dubbed "Scarface" because of his impressive scars emerged from the cover. "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE FUCKIN’ WITH, HUH? THIS IS MY WAREHOUSE, YOU STUPID FUCKS! MY TURF! I AM TONY… FUCKING MONTANA AND ONLY I CAN FUCK MYSELF!!!!!"
"At least you got fucked over by the sexiest spider in Pentagram!" Angel called back. "Listen, pal. Just give my friend a shipment of drugs and we can ease our asses for you...might give you a happy ending if you really want it."
"FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOU TOO, CHICA!" The Cuban Wolf Demon directed at them both. Angel Dust although flatteringly made a satisfying aww as he brought his hand to his chest, feeling rather honored that this Cuban guy wants to fuck him. "IF YOU MY WANT MY SHIT, YOU'LL PAY MY FOR SHIT, YOU FUCKING WHORES! I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU: MARK MY FUCKING WORDS!"
The Scarface then retreated inside the warehouse with the remaining gangsters. Both Angie and Cherri didn't bother to chase after him. Scarface's Empire of drug production collapsed... the second time.
"That was awesome, Angie!" Cherri Bomb rushed to Angel, offering a high five.
"Ya Bett'ya, sugar tits!” Angel Dust returned the high five before performing a dangerous flip of his launcher and gave it back.
"Ready to go and fuck the shit up with the rest of the warehouse?!"
"I will catch up! Just leave me some coca for me."
"No promises!" Cherri reloaded her launcher and ran towards the warehouse. Screaming in joy as her prize was getting closer, Angel Dust now can finally take his attention at Vaggie.
"So...you heard me, toots. Till our unfortunate meeting."
Vaggie, who has already heard everything, was now completely livid, barely holding back from screaming and throwing her phone against the wall.
"LISTEN TO ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU WIL STOP-!"
"I can't hear ya!"
"I SAID-"
"Can't hear ya still!"
"YOU-"
"Nope!"
"ST-"
"Ok, bye then!"
"N-"
*End Phone beep*
And he ended the call! Vaggie in frustration just dropped her head against the pillow, making the loudest groan. It's at least muffled for Charlie and Serpent not to hear it. It's been like a week since they picked Angel Dust and already Vaggie wants to murder that son of a bitch! Worst of all, Vaggie can't understand why Charlie tolerates him...she can only pray to God for Charlie's sanity.
At least a few minutes of silence passed before Vaggie heard Charlie's voice getting close. It seemed both Razzle and Dazzle followed their master as she made her way to the first floor. Vaggie upon seeing them also joined to say goodbye. Although Charlie noticed Vaggie was quite reddish.
"You're alright?" Charlie came closer, but Vaggie showed her palms that she is fine.
"Yeah, just Angel...being Angel...nothing new." Vaggie shook her head, pinching the tip of her nose. "He won't be here for the rest of the day."
"And where is he?" Charlie asked.
"In his own words..."Fucking shit up"...ugh."
"Mankind, huh?..." Serpent joked, knowing how they cling to their father Adam. "It's always about explosions or what not, huh?"
"Yeah, no control whatsoever." Vaggie agreed with a smile. The Moth Demon opened a door for the Serpent, not forgetting why the Snake of Eden stopped in the first place.
Serpent did leave the doorframe but stopped at the front. He took a long glance at his niece. Never thought it would come to this...having a someone who is like daughter-figure to him. Once, Serpent in younger times thought the concept of "Children" was absurd, stupid, and waste of time. He preferred to just enjoy the life the way knew: drinking and smoking pile of cigarettes' every day.
What a fool he was...
Ironically Lilith was right: Children were the joy we must have, no matter if you're an Angel, a Demon or a Human. They bring the feelings that Serpent cannot describe, the way they smiled at you, the way they giggle at you. It's like they awake your other side you never thought existed. And Charlie's existence changed him...both Lilith and her husband. Even now as Charlie was smiling warmly, full of love for her uncle...made Serpent feel...like he never fell from Heaven.
But time was a cruel thing, and sooner and later...everything must come to an end. And thus, on this note, it's time to say the proper goodbye. Serpent gently gave Charlie one last embrace...and Charlie, a "poor Angel" she is...could not hold her emotions.
Neither Serpent did...
Shading a single tear with his poison leaking out...that might be the first since Eden...Serpent then finally says everything he wants to say.
"I watched as you grown into a strong and beautiful woman, Charlie. Even though I knew I would not be able to have children...I'm still proud to call you my own daughter. You're my precious star that shines in the darkness, my dearest. This Snake will always love you no matter what!"
"I know...I love you too, uncle Serpent! Thank you for everything" She cried back.
Vaggie gave some time for them to say goodbyes before she then gently comforted crying Charlie, bringing her closer and let her cry on her shoulder. Just like with Lucifer's goodbye...it's at least she can do.
"Take care of her, Vaggie....and thanks for taking care of her." Serpent sniffed, trying to hold himself together. Vaggie gave a diligent nod, no words were needed. And with that, Serpent gently crawled away, soon disappearing from their sight. Of course, he did give a final glance at Charlie before disappearing.
Vaggie brought Charlie back to the Hotel and guided her to the couch, Razzle took the opportunity to hand Vaggie a napkin.
"I'm proud of you, hon." Vaggie cooed, caressing Charlie's back before handing her a napkin. "Two times it happened and you stayed strong..."
"Thank you, Vaggie." Charlie wiped her eyes from tears. "And sorry for not listening to you earlier. I neglected a lot of things with our Hotel..." Now that she mentioned it, Charlie then straightened herself to let out her thoughts. "Vaggie, I need your opinion. There is a matter of our promotion."
Charlie then reached for her phone and chose the contacts to reveal what she means by it. Vaggie raised her eye in surprise. Is she really going for this?
"Are you sure about this, hon?" Vaggie genuinely asked.
Charlie then glanced at the contact. Uncle said she should take her time with the decision...but there are no options left for them. There is only one goal she must aim at.
666 News Studio's Official Contact
666-783-214-21
"Vaggie, do you trust me?"
"Always, hon..."
Chapter 8: Sacred Or Just A Human?
Summary:
“And so I tell you, keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” - Jesus Christ, Luke 11:9-10
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (5 days before the Extermination), 11:11 AM.
Heaven/Empyrean's Central Sector/Jesus's Palace.
"You sure about this, love?"
"Of course, I'm sure. It's pretty much the same with a campfire."
Archangel Uriel hummed to herself in surprise, never thinking of it that way. Once more it shows how much have Eve changed since Eden. And seeing her right now was...heartwarming.
Detective Eve stood in her cozy kitchen, a pot of soup bubbling away as Uriel held it, due to an unfortunate mistake the Archangel of Wisdom had made before. But thankfully, Eve was smart to use Uriel's powers to warm up the pot, hence why she just stood there...pot in her hands as Eve stirred it.
"Okay, good." Eve announced as she went to pick up the ingredients. "Going to add some carrots to improve the taste. Abel always loved it when I made this for him."
"Sure thing, hon." Uriel chuckled.
"What? Is it funny for you to see me cooking?" Eve sarcastically remarked before chopping the carrots and tossing them into the pot.
Uriel chuckled softly. "It's adorable, Eve. I never imagined I'd see you like this."
A faint blush tinted Eve's cheeks as she turned her attention back to the soup. "Thank you, Uriel. Your kindness means a lot."
Despite the unusual circumstances, there was a sense of peace and companionship between them, a testament to the bond they shared. And as they continued cooking, Eve couldn't help but feel grateful for Uriel's presence and support, even in the most unexpected of situations. And it was a nice change, unlike with Lucifer...
*Knob click*
"And speaking of..." Eve whispered to herself, groaning as the third round was about to begin.
Lucifer yawned and scratched his neck as he exited the bedroom. He just came to a halt and smirked when he spotted Uriel gazing at him.
"What? You look like you saw a literal Devil entering the room, Sister..." Lucifer then drew his arms around his chest, still smirking at her. "Oh, I'm sure our Father didn't intend for you to become Eve's personal heater when he told us to bow to humans. But, since he's our father, everything is possible."
"Good morning to you as well, Sparkles." Uriel answered glumly. Ignoring everything he'd just said to make fun of her. "I'm just helping Eve with her breakfast."
"By being her personal stove?" Lucifer repeated himself with a grin.
"Uriel unintentionally absorbed the heat from the stove. She tried to repair it the same way you did after you damaged the room, but it didn't work. So... she volunteered.” Eve stated this while chopping the vegetables. Uriel nervously nodded in answer to Eve's remark, ashamed for damaging the stove in the first place. Archangel Raziel and his Heavenly Mechanicum would also scold her for destroying the "Machine spirit” if they found out.
Lucifer blinked at least twice before addressing them. "I think somewhere a joke about "Too hot even for a stove" applies here."
"Eww, Lucifer. She is your sister." Eve remarked, her tone was not entirely serious.
"Ha! You and Adam came from the same mom and dad, Eve. Not for you to complain!"
"Sparkles, they were created, not given birth to." Uriel corrected him, while Eve came closer to her to pour the carrots down and stir them in the pot. "Same goes for you and me."
"Then I suppose you and I may join Leviathan's ship without a problem."
"What does it have to do with Leviathan now?" Uriel inquired sincerely, not fully comprehending what he was saying.
Lucifer just rolled his eyes since his sister is a little slow on jokes...and sexual innuendos. But Eve could remedy that, as she softly motioned for Uriel to lean in so she could explain what her brother meant. The Archangel gave a nod at first, but as Eve detailed the specific portion, Uriel suddenly stopped. Her brows raised, and a deep blush appeared on her cheeks....and set Eve's soup on fire.
"Wh-MY SOUP!" Eve yelled
Wasting no time, she then snatched it from Uriel's grasp and tossed it into the basin, opening a faucet to extinguish the flames as quickly as possible. Uriel, of course, covered her mouth in shock. She didn't intend to do it in the first place. But her powers were tied to her emotions.
"I'm so sorry, love!" Uriel made an awkward remark before rushing up to help Eve extinguish the fires in her soup. Eve gave a sign that it was futile already. And put her hands against the sink, looking at the pot, utterly dejected. Lucifer approached to check on the soup's condition. And it was completely ruined by my sister's flames. With the water's reflection, he easily saw Eve's "my disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined" expression.
" *Whistles down* It appears that "Lucifer destroys everything in Heaven" has gained another point on its list." He chuckled. "As for your soup...tough shit."
"You're always helpful, Lucifer." Eve grumbled. Just what she needed right now...Lucifer’s quote-on-quote sympathy.
"You're really welcome, Eve." Lucifer chuckled back. Eve, on the other hand, simply ignored him. He then turned his gaze to his sister. "Oh, and Uriel...if you will have any children. It is best if your spouse will do the cooking."
"Thank you for your input." Uriel muttered, trying to keep her rage at him at bay. "Despite my strong desire to burn you, Helel."
"Well, it's not my fault that you're such a sweet little butterfly." Lucifer cracked a joke as he got closer to her. "Besides, it's my responsibility as your older brother to teach you about the truth of our universe."
"Such as?" Uriel tilted her head to the left, patiently waiting for his brother to reveal it.
"That sex and love exist, my dear sister." Lucifer casually said it as if it were an ordinary conversation.
"You're telling this to the Archangel of Wisdom, Helel..." Archangel Uriel rolled her eyes, anticipating much more from it. Even Eve from afar, can tell he's not serious as he fails to hide his smile from Uriel.
"Wisdom or not, I would be disappointed if you remained an eternal virgin till the end of time."
"Well, well, well. It appears that someone wants to become an uncle..." Eve hinted at it when she decided to give up on her soup.
"Eve, I'm already there. Leviathan is a family man...or demon..."
"He does?" Uriel expressed her disbelief but was oddly relieved to hear this news. It had been a long time since she had heard of Leviel. It would have been a pity if he had slipped into obscurity. Despite his treachery, Uriel, as his ex-supervisor, was very proud of Leviel's abilities and devotion to Heaven's cause... still a pity he left before the Rebellion.
She can't deny that the mention of Leviathan has piqued her interest in the "offspring" topic. After all, she not only guarded Eden's entrance but also studied Lilith and Adam. She chronicled all that she'd witnessed in her book of knowledge, which would serve as the foundation for angels to learn how to interact with humanity. It was especially useful in the present times, as Zadkiel and Gabriel were in charge of maintaining cultural interaction between Heavenborn Angels and humanity in Heaven.
On the one hand, Eve was a fantastic source for Uriel. She did have children, and Abel was grandmaster of "The Knight Order of Harrowing and Exorcism by Saint Azrael in Heaven". Yet the first woman was a little "touchy" when it came to her children's subjects. As a result, Uriel preferred not to force it on Eve. Now that Helel is here and had quite an experience with it, Uriel might use him to put a dot on this matter.
"Helel..." Uriel began by taking a big breath. She did cast a peek at Eve, and felt it was quite improper for the First Woman to hear their conversation. "Would you mind joining me on the balcony?"
Uriel then entered the balcony without saying anything, closing the door behind him. Lucifer glanced at Eve for her thoughts. She shrugged at him but motioned for him to follow her—after all, they are siblings.
And so Lucifer took a deep breath and entered the balcony after taking a deep breath and thinking that he may as well do as she said. In the meantime, Eve went to the refrigerator to check for something else to eat...
"Hmm, cucumbers...no. Bananas... maybe. Apples, definitely not." Eve hissed at that part. "Eh...bananas will work."
As soon as he stepped onto the balcony, Lucifer discovered Uriel, who was resting her arms on the railing while watching the bustling traffic of the Empyrean City. A sight to behold, as they were on the 875th floor of this palace. Even Lucifer could admit that by looking down, you barely see the ground. Looking up, the portal that led to the Angel's Realm was massive, unlike the time he saw it from the speeder with Eve.
Lucifer joined her, putting his arms against the railing as well. Uriel glanced at him and smiled, glad that he had come here.
"Don't tell me it's one of those talks, Uriel." Lucifer broke the silence. His sister chuckled at that.
"It's best for Eve not to hear Angel's small talk. It's just now that I know you and Leviathan have children. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask, but...what is it like to have a child? Among the heaven-born angels, none of us has offspring."
"What, Uriel? Would you like to join me and Leviathan in our little "family" club?" Lucifer intentionally teased her.
"I'm kind of there already, Lucifer." She gave him a kind grin.
"Really? Do you have someone who you love?" Lucifer inquired, amused, as to who in his mind would wish to burn their crotch. It was somewhat worth it because Uriel was beautiful (no incest meant by this), but still... burned crotches....uggh.
"If it counts, I admire humanity." Uriel shook her head. Lucifer was quite dissatisfied with the response.
"I'm not sure even you, Uriel, could handle the entire human race."
"Is this another one of your sex jokes?" Uriel crossed her arms once again.
"Ha, good! You're learning!" Lucifer chuckled, giving a pat of respect to her shoulder.
"Oh, Mother..." Uriel let out a sigh. "Okay, if you're worried about us, I've got some excellent news for you. Gabriel is romantically involved with Archangel Athena."
"Really? He is in love with the Angel of the Ancient Hellenic Pantheon?" Lucifer expressed real astonishment at hearing this. He was kind of proud...not in "sinful" proudness, but in genuine proudness for Gabriel.
"Hey, it happens. Nobody ever complained about you having a crush on Lilith. Even Dad was aware of it."
"At least I had a crush on Lilith, while you don't employ the "love" emotion that our mother gave us. You could have found a gentleman angel...or a lady."
"You're so pushy, Helel."
"Hey, I'm your older brother, Uriel. This is my job after all...wink-wink-nudge-nudge."
Uriel shook her head, but kept her smile. Even behind his mockery, he still cared for them...
"Helel, I don't really have time for romance and flowers. Besides, I already have a family: Gabriel, Raphael, Zadkiel and Raziel are still my brothers and sisters, whom I love dearly. Heavens, even you are part of my family."
"I hope you won't regret putting me on your "my family list" later." Lucifer winked at her. Uriel could not hold back her serious expression. "But to be honest, I cannot help with your question. Lilith is good at this kind of stuff. For me, having a child…It's weird. Before, you would not bat an eye on it. Now...now you see a walking mirror of yourself who will carry your legacy."
"And how did you manage to have Charlie?"
"Well..." Lucifer started with a smirk, inhaling for the next round. "When Daddy Angel loves Mommy Succubus, then Daddy Angel-"
"Helel...not funny." Uriel spoke slowly.
"Alright, Wonder Woman! Chill out!" Lucifer showed his palms. "Then just the usual human way."
"Weird..." Uriel whispered to herself, caressing her own cheek, as she couldn't understand why it was possible in the first place. "You know the fall of the Grigori Angels and how they procreated with humans to produce Nephilim, right? The thing is, the Grigori Angels made a deal with the Devil to produce Nephilim. It's impossible for fallen angels to procreate...unless you ask the Primordial Spirit for permission. "
Uriel's statement made Lucifer chuckle. He understood what she meant. "Before you proceed any further, consider the following: I never requested a kid from our father. Charlie is the result of true love."
"It doesn't erase the matter, Lucifer. If not our dad...then I'm afraid you have to ask the Devil himself..."
"Uriel...no!" Lucifer made a threat, not wanting to go down this road.
"Listen, I'm not against you having a child. Your Hell: Your Rules. But I'm worried about whether Charlie is a ticking bomb or not. Even here in Heaven, we know what the Devil himself is capable of."
"Look, Charlie is my concern and no one else's. And I made sure that the Devil honored the agreement." Lucifer insisted, although his raised tone showed hostility. To that, Uriel gave an understanding nod. She knows Lucifer quite well when he is serious about that matter.
"What about the rest of our ex-Angels?" Uriel added further, as if she had never asked about Charlie in the first place.
"Only me, Yophiel and Leviathan from the Seven Kings of Hel. The rest are busy wanting to murder you."
"Even Ozzie?" His sister smirked at that.
"Well, Ozzie is busy being high as fuck...but somewhere in his gut he wants to kill you."
"That's quite a progress for an archangel who used to be a musician."
"And now he's a highly perverted addict for the Ring of Lust..." Lucifer smiled as he remembered the fond memories of Asmodeus' shenanigans. "Heh, we have had enough of him once, so we barred him from attending the Stygian Council. Then, all of a sudden, we saw the ceiling collapse, with Ozzie himself crashing into Azazel. Do you know what he said first?"
"What?"
"Witch, got any of that Voodoo crack?"
"Wait, really!?" Uriel chuckled at that. Goodfather, Asmodel really kills it. "So he breached the council only to ask Azazel for Drugs?"
"YEAH! And that wasn't the first or last instance of his shenanigans. He once snuck into the Greed Ring and looted one of the money vaults in order to erect a massive ass statue of a... Dildo in Lust Ring."
"How in Heaven could he come up with that idea?!"
"I don't know! He said it made him happy!"
"How, though?!" Uriel yelled. She leaned her head against the railing, eventually bursting out laughing. "W-h-w-WHY-HOW-I...just imagine our exorcists' expressions when they see it!" She managed to wheeze it out between her chuckles.
"And when they meet the monster himself, they're like, 'Screw this,' and they yeet themselves out in fear. But yeah, that‘s our Asmodeus." Lucifer didn't even help any further to ease Uriel's laughter. His old guard are a bunch of psychopaths that can't run their own rings for shit, and he enjoys every moment of it.
In the meantime, Uriel managed to calm herself down without setting anything on fire. "Oh, goodfather." She wiped the "flame tear" from her eye. "The more I spend time with you, the more I'm losing myself."
"I still have one hour to torment you, dear sis." Lucifer assured her wholeheartedly. "As for how, that's a good question."
The fallen angel then tapped his finger against his chin. There must be something that they can all do to spend the next hour laughing and being idiots.
...
...
OF COURSE!!!
"Are you familiar with any card games, sister?"
"Well, I played poker with exorcists that one time." Uriel shrugged.
"I hope it was not strip poker." Lucifer needed to make a joke for this moment. "But I know a far better game than poker."
But before addressing it to his sister, he opened the balcony door to ask Eve for something. Because of how loudly Lucifer opened the door, the poor woman nearly choked herself with a carrot.
"Hey, apple-pie. Do you want to lose your faith in humanity?"
40 minutes later.
"Oh, brother." Eve sighed. To describe what she experienced is quite something. To pass some time, Lucifer suggested playing a card game. Immediately, Uriel and Eve assumed it was some kind of poker-style game. But nope... it's far worse.
"The Cards Against Humanity"
Even Eve was no stranger to black humor, but sometimes things like...are a bit too much. Although Lucifer insisted (or lied) that they were harmless enough for even an Angel of Heaven to play. Of course, he was bullshitting them as he dared Uriel to join the game, calling her a "Putto" and mocking her for not defeating her "Fallen Brother" in a simple card game. To protect Heaven's honor, she flew outside and managed to get a free deck of cards. (Because Archangel..duh) for the three of them. And somehow, even Heaven sold this stuff.
To make matters even funnier, Uriel and Lucifer agreed that Eve would read the cards aloud while the angel siblings chose the worst possible white card. Something told Eve it was the worst decision since listening to Serpent's lies...
"Alright...next one" Eve takes another black card. She cleared her throat before proceeding to read:
"I tell you, it was a non-stop fuckfest. When it was over, my asshole looked like {...}"
"Oo, I know!" Uriel was the first to lay out her white card. Eve checked it then, before reading it aloud.
"I tell you, it was a non-stop fuckfest. When it was over, my asshole looked like one unforgettable night of passion ."
"It's kind of romantic...but it's not humorous." Lucifer spoke in a monotone tone. Uriel sighed, disappointed...it felt funny to her.
"You've got a card, L." Eve swallowed to prepare herself for Lucifer's antics. When the fallen angel smirked at her before showing her his white card, her fears were confirmed.
"I tell you, it was a non-stop fuckfest. When it was over, my asshole looked like... a light, hairy vagina!"
Eve was hardly able to finish her sentence before she covered her face as it turned redder and redder. Lucifer's win in this round was sealed by her reaction. Although, Uriel shook her head. It sounded ridiculous enough for her to admit her brother's victory. She was perplexed as to why humans made jokes about their genitalia more often than needed.
"Okay-okay...I'm calm now." Eve breathed in as she composed herself, taking the next card.
"I'm LeBron James, and when I'm not slamming dunks, I love {...}
Uriel was the first to reveal her card. Even Lucifer looked at her distrustfully...
“I'm LeBron James, and when I'm not slamming dunks, I love her big, pac-man mouth. ”
"Okay, that's a pretty good one, sis!" Lucifer exclaimed with a laugh, giving a proud pat to his sister's shoulder. Surprisingly, Uriel got the perfect one for this! Uriel smiled back at him.
"What about yours, L?"
"Eh, too vanilla for me..." Lucifer weakly revealed his own card.
"I'm LeBron James, and when I'm not slamming dunks, I love Pretty Good Morning Sex."
"Not bad, but...Uriel's got this round." Eve admitted it.
"Yay!" Uriel clapped her hands, causing Lucifer to smirk devilishly. He will get the final laugh...just wait and see.
"You angels and your sense of humour..." Eve murmured as she got the next black card.
I so Drunk I {...}
"You fell into my trap! BOOM!" Lucifer slammed his white card with victory.
"I so Drunk I CUMMING DEEP INSIDE MY BEST BRO! "
"DAMM YOU!" Eve laughed loudly. "I HATE MYSELF FOR SAYING THIS ST-UFF!"
Lucifer merely chuckled gently at Eve's reaction. He never understood why humanity was so willing to keep their mouths shut in order not to upset others. But he's probably able to predict why...
"Oh, Eve. You're such a dork. We have fairly progressive freedom of expression down in Hell... unlike here!" Lucifer cast a childish glare towards Uriel, waiting for her reaction. Uriel sighed and rolled her eyes. Her brother wished to tarnish Heaven or persuade Eve that she was on the wrong side of the fight once more.
"Wow, it's really progressive of you," Uriel retorted cynically, air-quoting his remarks: "At the very least, we care about everyone being polite to one another and only suppressing extremely severe objectionable stuff."
"At the expense of an individual's freedom," Lucifer said as he crossed his arms and challenged her.
"But for the sake of everyone's safety." Uriel retorted with a growl.
"Safety...or safety for Heaven's totalitarian dictatorship?" Lucifer hinted. He then rested his hands on his head, leaning back in his chair. "Do you know what I despise the most? It's when Heaven employs double standards: you smear, you laugh, and you shun us for your own enjoyment."
"And hell is any different? The Six Kings are ruling with the Iron Fist. Your people's needs are being disregarded. You assault the Earth and harm people by striking a bargain with them, just to deceive them in the end."
"Now I find that to be quite offensive. Those Biblical authors and the dad-praising fools all bestowed upon me the title of "Prince of Lies". Let me assure you that I am no deceiver or trickster of any sort, sister. If Mortals want to make a deal, then I will tell them the contents of my side of the deal. If they want to hear the truth, I will tell them the truth. After al...the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”
"Good intentions that were twisted, ripped apart, and left to rot down there." Uriel finished with a smirk back at him.
"Good intentions." Lucifer repeated this word, like venom. "Don't tell me of your "good intentions." You and your "good intentions" caused your fatherdamn "Messiah boy" to die on a piece of wood for nothing."
When he mentioned it, it hit Eve's brain like a nail. She realized that she had forgotten thanks to Lucifer's game. "Good heavens, the event is about to start. Sorry, Angels, but I need to watch it."
The first woman then raised herself and went to the living room as quickly as possible, leaving the two angels alone.
"Huh, where is our mutually adorable apple-eater going?" Lucifer amusingly asked.
"Like Gabriel, told you, Jesus will have a speech in the next few minutes."
"Oh, my fucking Dad." Lucifer groaned. He seriously doesn't understand humans sometimes. "Why is she wasting her time on some sandal-clad chap with a white tunic who died on the cross?"
"I think she was just eager to hear him." Uriel shrugged. "After all, his sacrifice allowed humanity's original sin to be washed away. Thus fixing Eve's greatest mistake she made."
"That's not how it works! A human can't just fix these problems by DYING!"
"Helel..." Uriel sighed. "Keep in mind that with Mom and Dad's absence, Jesus is the only one who has a connection to their Creator. In the end, he seeks to undo a lot of damage that Heaven and Hell caused each other. That's why he wants the best for you and me. "
"His attempt will be another addition to Hell’s paved roads." Lucifer dismissed her words with a wave. Uriel released a breath. At this point, she finally gave up fighting him. He is in his little bubble... just like a long time ago.
"Perhaps I will join Eve." Uriel raised herself from the chair. "Still, quite a game. I enjoyed it."
She then made a smooch sound for him before leaving to join Eve. And so Lucifer is completely alone in the kitchen, caressing the surface of the white card as he awkwardly listens to the clock ticking.
"Well..." Lucifer then shrugs at himself. "Solo then..."
*10 seconds later*
"Ok, I'm bored now!" Lucifer dropped the white card, taking a deep breath of boredom, not knowing what to do to waste some time. He heard the TV turn on and wondered if he might need to learn more about that "Jesus" fellow to be prepared. After all, it's best to know your opponent before revealing your cards.
And so Lucifer also left the kitchen to join the rest. Both Uriel and Eve are already prepared, with Eve's legs resting on Uriel's laps as they wait for the ad to pass away.
"Decided to join us?" Eve asked him.
"I might also learn something new." Lucifer commented casually (or lied) as he took a seat on the couch near Uriel on the left. He did lay his arm on her shoulder, and, surprisingly, she did not protest it. "So, when does it start?"
"Just after the ad."
And we're here for all of the above.
We do the paperwork for you,
And the heavy lifting, too.
So sit right back and let us bless a soul for you.
Oh, we are the C.H.E.R.U.B!
The screen went dark before it lit up, with the cherubs flying around, holding pieces. Through a montage, they assembled "The Empyrean News" logo, ending with a group pose. Instantly, the TV switched to the camera in a news studio, slowly zooming down at the host of the program, Metatron.
Metatron was known to be the voice of God, the Chancellor of Heaven, and even regarded as the King of the Angels by some. It seemed now that God and Goddess were no longer in Heaven. Metatron possessed the duty of being responsible for delivering news around both Heaven and Earth.
The screen then switched to the front, where Metatron momentarily closed his scroll before turning his gaze to the camera.
"Good afternoon, Heaven. As always, I'm Metatron, news spokesman for the Heavenly Ministry of Truth, bringing some fresh news from our God’s creation; Heaven and Earth. Today's reportage is special as December 25, 2019 marks the 2025th anniversary of Christ's birthday, now referred to as "Christmas". As is our old tradition, our Lord and Messiah will give his speech on Hypelon Plaza before joining the celebration with humans as well. Without any further ado, I give our correspondent down in Hypelon Plaza. Sandy, the floor is yours. "
With a slight delay, the screen flipped to another feminine archangel, who held the microphone in front of a massive crowd of cherubs, angels, and winners.
"Thank you, brother. Hello, viewers! I'm Archangel Sandaplhon, and we thank you for tuning us in to join the celebration. Behind me, the crowd was already gathered and waiting for their Messiah to show up. We believe it broke the record compared to last Christmas!"
"Seems like humanity is eager to see their saviour." Metatron commented, to which Sandalphon nodded. "Now tell me, are there any confirmed individuals present here?"
"Indeed, and we know that Mary Magdalene herself will be joining the Cherubs to play her musical part. The 11 apostles are present too. Some sources say that the Virgin Mary is here, but we need solid evidence before confirmation."
"Well, thank you for your report, Sandalphon. We here in the studio wish you the best Christmas. Take care, sister."
Sandaplonh's screen turned off, and Metatron is now completely in the picture to deliver one final point. "And now we officially start the event with Archangel Gabriel's appearance."
As Metatron proclaimed, the screen then changed to one of the many cameras that were recording this event. From a good angle, Eve noticed Mary Magdalene was talking with John Boanerges, one of Jesus's apostles. Judging by Mary's mood and her slightly tilted head, it seemed they were once again at each other's throats. Eve wasn’t exactly sure why, though.
Archangel Gabriel appeared from the stage curtains a minute later. Winners cheered and clapped when they saw their favorite Archangel, to which Gabriel waved them back and gave them a wink as a form of thanks.
"Well, well, well. I was surprised to hear some claps for my appearance, hehe." Gabriel proclaimed this to the audience before clearing his throat. "But you all know why you're here today. You're not here to see this handsome angel standing here in front of thousands of people. You're here to see your greatest messiah that ever walked the universe, the man who died for your sins...that the passage to Heaven's Gate was always open to you. MAY I present THE ONE AND THE ONLY, THE MYTH AND THE LEGEND: JESUS CHRIST OF NAZARETH."
Upon proclaiming, a man in an iconic simple white robe appeared from the curtains with a pure white dove sitting on his left shoulder. The cheering and clapping were even louder as their eyes were now on their Messiah. Eve and Uriel also joined the clap. As for Lucifer, a single roll of his eyes expressed his opinion.
Jesus at first waved his hand, thanking everyone in his heart for this loud appraisal. He then went to each apostle and gave them a strong embrace, ending with Mary Magdalene, whom Jesus held longer. Mary gave him a kiss on the cheek. Somehow, it caused even Lucifer to smile at that adorable sight...eh, mortals.
The Messiah then went to Gabriel. Lucifer's brother at first gave him a bow, only for Jesus to do a handshake with an embrace. Jesus then slowly made his way to the lectern. He smiled at the public as he waited kindly and patiently for the crowd to become silent.
"We love you, Jesus!" Someone from the crowd exclaimed. To which Jesus' smile brightened.
"I love you too, Kevin!" Jesus replied in a sweet tone. The crowd once again cheered far louder after hearing his voice. But Jesus, of course, waited for them out of respect. Only when the crowd got silent did Jesus open his mouth to start his speech. "I want to thank Gabriel for his kind words to me. Since the day he announced my birthday to my mother, he has been with me ever since. Even today, I could not thank him enough."
"You can...just give me less paperwork!" Gabriel made a joke. Jesus, of course, smiled back at him, with the audience making a few chuckles here and there before going silent.
"Friends, wives, husbands, loved ones. It's a great honor to stand in front of thousands of eyes that wish to hear my words. I'm forever humbled by your faith in me, and I could never repay this kindness. But today we gather together to celebrate the most precious event in Heaven: Christmas. Even among you, I'm still a human, both in soul and flesh. For me, this is the day when Heaven truly comes alive: a place of peace, celebration, harmony, and love. Down on Earth, your descendants are joining us to celebrate this event. And even in the abyss, there are those who are still holding their candles for us. We will never forget their faith in us."
"The Massacre of Acheron City says otherwise." Lucifer sneered at this hypocrisy.
"Please be quiet, L!" Eve asked him "nicely". And Uriel also nodded to Eve's demand.
Jesus then dropped his smile, as the next part was "too heavy" to discuss. He took a glance at the exorcists, some of whom were holding their children in their arms. He knows the exorcists believe they are doing the right thing. But still, to this day, he never wished it to come to this.
"One century ago, the greatest disaster struck us. On December 25, 1919, as part of the attempt on my life, The Ring of Limbo, a longtime ally of Heaven, was invaded by the Devil's forces."
The crowd completely became silent. Many, if not all, Exorcists in the crowd felt their anger boiling up. Even to this day, the scars are still present here in Heaven.
"Millions of Limboers were enslaved, murdered, or assimilated. A third of the exorcists’ souls were lost that day. And I even lost my old friend in a catastrophe. My friends, Let us honor the fallen, let us honor those who died for us to be here; let them be remembered by us carrying their candles."
Jesus then lowered his head to honor his old friend's unknown fate. The crowd also joined in a minute's silence. Some prayed to find peace with God and the Goddess. Others prayed for their safety in Hell. The Exorcists straightened themselves and gave a salute to honor their fallen comrades who had perished against the forces of Heaven's Greatest Enemy.
Even Lucifer, who really wanted to ruin this silence just for shits and giggles, decided not to do it. From Hell's perspective, the entire Limbo was a rouge and traitorous state. So good riddance to it. But he can't deny the entire mess that caused the destruction of Limbo. Before, his position was absolute and clear. Then, Limbo's destruction and its outcome caused some serious issues, and, of course, the annual exterminations were the result of this entire mess.
Jesus then raised his head back toward the crowd. He produced a faint smile at them. It is best to end on a good note. "But now, let us carry their memories and move forward, my friends. On behalf of the entire Heavenly Host, we wish you a Merry Christmas. Mary, my dear. The floor is yours."
Mary Magdalene gently walked to the stage, taking a microphone from her teacher's hands and paying attention to the crowd. The speakers then started to play the familiar Christmas song.
We wish you a Merry Christmas.
We wish you a Merry Christmas.
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy new year.
Good tidings we bring to you and your kin.
We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year.
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding.
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding.
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding.
And bring it right here.
Good tidings we bring to you and your kin.
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
"Huh, not bad...for a human." Lucifer said aloud...now his wife had quite a rival in the vocal department.
"Mary is awesome, Lucifer. Not only is she a performer and a great singer, but it feels like she is the embodiment of a sinner's repentance."
"And I could not agree more, Mother Eve."
"Wait, wha-" And Eve immediately shut herself down when she turned back to see the unexpected guest. Both Uriel and Lucifer turned back to see what was going on. Jesus Christ himself was here, with a pigeon sitting on his shoulder and a little lamb in his arms.
"Hello, Mother Eve." Jesus simply greeted her.
"Um, hello, my Lord...how did you get here that quickly?"
"The same way I was resurrected... or, more accurately, through simple teleportation." Jesus shrugged, but not before he showed his palms. "And please, just call me Jesus. No need to honor me."
"Why am I not surprised..." Lucifer mumbled quietly to himself. Jesus Christ heard it quite well but decided not to reply out of respect for his opinion.
"Hey, big J." Uriel made a little wave with her fingers. "Nice speech on stage."
"Thank you very much, sister. I didn't want to take up their time." Jesus then moved closer to the television, gesturing to Mary's singing. "I wish they spent more time with their friends instead of listening to me talk."
"Why the hell not? If you have blind followers, then why not use them?" Lucifer asked with a smirk as he got up from the couch and got closer to Jesus, examining him. "Huh, I thought the proclaimed "Savior of Humanity'' would be more...impressive."
"And I expected you to be taller. You are the King of Hell, after all." Jesus simply replied, scratching the lamb's ear.
"Hey, that's my choice for being short!" Lucifer crossed his arms. "Also, I presume Gabriel told you everything about me."
"Yes, despite your rocky start with Gabriel. I'm still very glad to finally meet you, Helel. God spoke highly of you."
Lucifer chuckled at that. "Very funny. The next thing you tell me is that my downfall was due to one of his "dad jokes" for shit and giggles."
"Opposite, Helel. His memories are available to me through the Holy Spirit." Jesus points at the pigeon sitting on his shoulder, who cooed at the mention of his name. "And all of God's memories of you were positive." Jesus then lowered his eyes. "He still loved you to the end."
Lucifer's left eye twitched from hearing this. What he hated the most were liars and charlatans. But when someone straight-up lied in front of him, especially when it was about his dad, it pissed him off a lot.
"Had he loved me, he would have apologized rather than leave Heaven! Don't you dare lie to my face!" Lucifer growled at the Messiah, causing Uriel to get up to make sure Lucifer wouldn't do anything that everyone would regret.
But Jesus showed her it was okay with Lucifer's reaction. The Morningstar's anger at God is emotional and understandable. Through the memories of God, Jesus learned that the Father didn't understand Lucifer's concerns back then.
"I'm sorry, Lucifer...for everything that happened to you." Jesus lowered his head. It felt weird to say this. As if he felt guilt for Lucifer's fall.
"It's already too late for that..." Lucifer mumbled at him. "But I have far more concerns than reminiscing about the old past right now..."
"Very well." Christ then went on to turn off the TV. He then turned to them, producing his iconic smile. "In the meantime, as you're our guest, it's appropriate for us to show some hospitality. Do you want the iconic Heaven's wine?"
"Wine?" Lucifer repeated this more calmly now before shrugging because he wasn't opposed to it. Better than Envy's whiskey. Though Uriel glanced concerningly at Jesus, she felt like she knew where it was going....
To give Lucifer his wine, Jesus went to the kitchen to get a knife and a cup for him. He brought his knife to his hand and was about to cut it when Uriel, like a hawk, prevented him.
"No! As your older half-sister, you’re not cutting yourself!"
"But-"
"I said NO! Helel will be fine without your wine!"
“Actually-" Lucifer wanted to protest, but Uriel gave him a "death-glare," making him shut his mouth. He now understood why sinners were afraid of him. It's all about those "Death Glares" that angels were pretty good at making. Jesus, however, was disappointed. And so he laid the knife on the table before joining the three of them on the couch.
"Gabriel did say you came for a reason... though he warned me you were a little... dark on that subject."
"My brother just loves to paint me in a bad spot. To put it mildly, I'm here to forge a deal." Lucifer dismissed Jesus' words. He at first relaxed on the couch, inhaling more breath. The time had come for his reason for going to Heaven in the first place. "Let's face it, the three of you. By having me as King of Hell, you and the entire Heaven benefit a lot. I mean, since when was the last time I tried to attack you?"
"Lucifer... Limbo ." Eve hinted in a quiet tone.
"It doesn't count because it wasn't my idea to begin with. Blame the rest of Hell for wanting to destroy you. I couldn't care less about these ancient feuds."
"So what's your game then, Helel?" Uriel asked.
"My game, dear sister, is that it would be unfortunate if something happened if, say, I was ousted for treason." Lucifer then grinned. "And what's the worst part about it? Who will be the next leader after me? The Lord Regent of Dis? Beelzebub?...or even Satan, the King of Wrath. Regardless who takes my throne, all of them will seek to destroy you."
"Ah, I see..." Jesus nodded at that, now understanding Lucifer's intentions. "So you're asking us to help you keep your throne?"
"Oh, you silly human." Lucifer laughed grimly. "I'm not asking...I'm simply offering an opportunity. I need a little distraction so that the rest of Hell will be occupied with you rather than me while I deal with my own problems."
"Helel, if it's really about your position being in danger, let us help you." Uriel cooed.
"I appreciate it, sister. But that's not how it works." Lucifer shook his head in a neutral tone. "Any affiliation with Heaven is a death sentence... which I'm already breaking by coming up here, but I couldn't care less about some King of the Rings hissing at me."
"If we agree, then how would Heaven help you? We have a strict rule here not to go to Hell before the Extermination." Eve explained.
"Funny you say that, considering you have many spies in my Ring." Lucifer casually said, causing Eve's face to tighten, to which the fallen angel only quietly chuckled. "Look at you, so scared all of a sudden. We both know we play dirty on each other, and I could not care less. Why should I care if some noble or Stygian representative died because some sinner sold information to the exorcists? In the end, more absolute power to me."
"But still, how can we help you?" Eve added further.
To do that, Lucifer then straightened himself before delivering his idea. "What if your next extermination was even more...devastating, and one of the victims was...The Lord Regent of Dis?"
There was a slight pause as Uriel and Eve glanced at each other. Both were shocked to hear it.
"You're joking..." Eve was not convinced by Lucifer's idea.
"Let's face it: Most of Heaven wants revenge for Limbo, and the Lord Regent was the prime instigator of its destruction. Plus, I hate his guts a lot, and there is nothing I could do to not jeopardize my position...unless you will do it."
"But how? The Capital Ring is the heart of Hell. Even if we attack it, there are chances that the Lord Regent will slip by." Eve continued.
"And that's where you're wrong, my dear Eve." Lucifer then summoned a folder, tossing it on the coffee table. "Because during the Purge, he will be organizing a Sabbath to pray to "Master Daddy" or some shit. And it so happens that I have a pretty good plan for Pandemonium City's layout, its defenses, and every secret."
Once again, both Uriel and Eve were baffled by this offer. If Lucifer really wants this...then he is quite desperate.
"Lucifer...you're selling your own people...your own afterlife. Are you sure about this?"
"They are not my people. In Leviathan's own words, they are parasites sucking the Dark Lord's dick. I know they want my demise, and I share this sentiment with them. I am offering Heaven a bone to bite. Accept it or leave it, I don't care."
Both Uriel and Eve glanced at Jesus for his final decision, who was in deep thought, thinking it over. Christ was not against helping Lucifer, but...he was not exactly painting the full picture of his situation.
"Lucifer..." Jesus looked at him, earning the king's attention. "Are you willing to do it...for Charlie's safety?"
"It's best for both of us if I keep Charlie out of our deal..." Lucifer spoke in a stoic voice but still showed hostility. At this point, he was not surprised...if Jesus was really part of his father's "soul" chances are that he already knew Charlie's existence since the day she was born.
Jesus nodded, respecting his wish. He glanced back at Eve and Uriel, noticing they were waiting for his final verdict. "Eve, Uriel. Can you safely pass Helel's information off as some kind of another source?"
"It won't be hard. The Exorcists won't bother with details." Eve assured them. Jesus nodded to her before turning his head back to their guest.
"All right, we accept your proposition, Helel."
"Well then!" Lucifer eagerly got up from the couch, offering his hand to shake it. "I had my doubts, but I never thought you would accept this deal!"
Jesus raised himself. He slowly tried to reach for Lucifer's hand, only to lay it on his shoulder. "Helel, even if you don't want to admit it. I know you are desperate. The Devil is a force of nature that shallows anything in its path. Know this: even if you venture here without any deals, we will still help you. After all, Heaven doesn't make any deals...
"We offer our blessings."
The Messiah then let go of Lucifer with a firm pat on the back in a brotherly manner. Lucifer chose not to respond, instead asking a question while he still had the chance.
"So who is that lamb?"
"It's Agnus Dei, my little pet." Jesus then picked up Agnus and offered him to Lucifer. "Say hi to him."
"Well, aren't you an adorable lamb, little guy?" Lucifer took Agnus from Jesus' hands and rubbed Agnus' head. The Little Lamb of God made himself comfortable, melting from Lucifer's gentle caressing.
"He likes you." Uriel found it charming.
"What's not to like? Morningstar, afterall." Lucifer chuckled, giving Agnus back to Jesus. "Well, it seems like I've been here for ages, but... everything has to come to an end sooner or later."
"Sure you can't stay for the Christmas celebration?" Eve asked.
"What, Detective? Afraid you're going to miss me? "How sweet of you." Lucifer chuckled, only to sigh in the end. "But seriously, Lilith is going to turn me into a purse the longer I'm here."
"Yeah, she will..." Eve nodded, admitting Lucifer's concerns. "Alright, Uriel, are you with us?"
"You go first. I need to talk to the Messiah first."
"Then come on, L." Eve gestured him to follow her. And so, with a nod to Jesus and Uriel, Lucifer followed Eve.
"And Helel..." Jesus called out. Lucifer stopped and turned around, waiting for the punchline. Jesus' smile then brightened more. "Merry Christmas to you, brother."
*Coo-Coo* The Holy Spirit said goodbye.
"Thanks...you too..both of you." Lucifer sighed before leaving with Eve.
With them gone, a dead silence engulfed the room. Jesus noticed how Uriel's "fire" was disappearing. She came closer to Uriel, who still didn't move her eyes away from the door.
"You will miss him, don't you?"
"I can sense the light in him. I can sense he is conflicted...but still he persists." Uriel lowered her head. Many millennia had passed since The Rebellion caused a severe schism in Heaven, and she still couldn't let them go...Leviel, Asmodel, Helel...she lost them all... She lost so many brothers she deeply loved.
"He found his peace in Hell, Uriel." Jesus then laid his hand on her back. "The best thing for you is to honor his wish..."
"Can I ask you for a favor, brother?" Uriel gently asked. She agreed with Jesus's statement. Even if she didn’t want to let go of Lucifer, she still wanted to give him a great gift to remember her.
"No, as a favor... Just ask me, Uriel."
*A few Minutes Later*
By this time, Lucifer and Eve had left the palace, taking a slow walk down the staircase. The fallen angel is once again hidden behind the exorcist's uniform.
"Well, that turned out to be better than expected." Lucifer admitted it weirdly. "Well, Detective. It was quite...an interesting reunion."
"That, I agree with...I definitely developed some serious PTSD thanks to you, H."
"Even better, you won't forget me that way." Lucifer simply said. Eve only chuckled in reply. In that part, he is quite right. She definitely won't forget their time here in Heaven.
In a few instances, they moved further away before Eve gestured to Lucifer to turn the corner. They proceeded to enter a small backyard of the street.
"So you're going to teleport with your fancy magic stuff, or am I going to get beaten up by some Christian thugs?"
"No and no, L." Eve then glanced back to make sure they were not noticed before continuing. "Before we part ways, remember when you gave me the plush toy and I said, "I suppose I must provide something in return“ to you?"
"Ah, I get it..." Lucifer awed slowly. "Well, luckily for you, I'm pretty good at "doing it outside".”
"Um, what?"
"The mention of "I owe you" in a back alley, completely alone, means one thing: sexy times."
"What?! No!" Eve exclaimed in an instant. "What I meant is that I have a gift for you."
"And now my wish is completely ruined." Lucifer mockingly remarked, causing Eve to slap her forehead. "Just joking, Detective! A gift will suffice me."
Eve then removed her glove, revealing a strange but lovely ring made of Heaven's gold. She did remove it too, and she offered it to Lucifer.
"Here...it's my gift to Lilith. It was made specifically for me as a gift from the entire Heaven. Note the inscription."
"Huh..." Lucifer hummed in curiosity before taking the ring and examining it. The beautiful ring gleamed in the light. And, it also possessed a particular text within the metal…in the Hebrew language.
ברכה את אם האנושות, שנתנה לנו את ההתחלה .
"Bless the Mother of Mankind, who gave us the beginning." Lucifer translated the ring's inscription, now fully understanding why Eve wanted Lilith to have it. "You sure about this...I mean, it's generous of you, but-"
Eve showed him her finger and kindly asked for him to be silent. She then gently addressed it. "Even if she hates me, I still wish the best for her. And now that she has a little angel girl, I want her to have this as a gift from one mother to another."
Lucifer didn't reply with any words, only a nod for this generous gift.
"Thank you, L." Eve then looked up as she heard the sounds of wings flapping before confirming it was, in fact, her again. "Looks like Uriel is joining our goodbyes."
Archangel Uriel gently landed on the concrete floor before she stood on her feet, her wings disappearing into nothingness.
"Sorry for earlier. I had to ask Jesus for his permission." Uriel then, without saying a word, walked up closer to give Lucifer her goodbye gift. "Here, he was kind enough to let you have this."
"Is that..." The only thing Lucifer could mutter as he took the badge upon realizing what it was Lucifer froze. Uriel's gift was a pentagram star. Not just any Pentagram star... but THE Pentagram Star: Lucifer's Original Symbol. Unlike the common symbol of Hell, this one was void of any demonic corruption. Just a pure golden star with a ring around it.
"You didn't..." He raised his head at her, murmuring in shock. His genuine smile pierced Uriel's soul completely...and her tears started to leak out.
“It doesn't matter if you're the King of Hell; it doesn't matter if you're the enemy of Heaven. You're still my precious brother, whom I will never let go of. I love you, Helel. And I will love you until the end of time."
To say Lucifer was heartbroken...was an understatement. He still remained stoic in front of his crying sister. At least to help her out, Lucifer came closer and embraced Archangel Uriel with full passion. The poor girl began to whimper again.
"I could not say better to you, Uriel. Thank you...for being part of my life...and for everything."
It took at least two minutes before Lucifer let go of her. They did clasp their hands for the last time... before Uriel was the first to let go. She stepped back, giving her brother one last look before her magnificent wings were engulfed in flames as she lifted her up and flew away.
"Goodbye, my Phoenix." Lucifer murmured. He caught the red feather in the air—a good trinket to remember her.
Eve came closer and laid her hand on his shoulder. "I still have one final gift for you...if you have time."
"Another?" Lucifer weakly said that he did not have enough strength to be that "Goofy" Lucifer. "Well, alright. I hope it's a good one."
"It's definitely, Lucifer. But I kindly ask you to close your eyes for this one."
"Alright..." Lucifer raised his arms. "I trust you not to do anything that I will regret later." He then closed his eyes, eager for Eve's gift.
"No promises." Eve didn't seriously say this as she grabbed his arm to guide him.
Lucifer could hear how Eve summoned a teleport and dragged him to it. It could mean one thing:
Please be a bedroom!
Please be a bedroom!
Please be a bedroom!
"Now, open, L!"
Lucifer opened and...
Oh...
No way!
"Are we...?" He blinked twice or a third time to confirm if it was true or not some Heaven's shenanigans.
"Yes, we are..." Eve gestured to the surroundings. "Welcome back to where it all started: the Garden of Eden."
And again, he could not believe this... He expected less, but damm...how Eve managed to pull this off is impressive. Even after so many years, the Garden Of Eden was still the same. They did pave the roads and add some benchmarks here and there, but still...it's the same place.
Long ago, the Garden of Eden was intended to be a home for humanity here in Heaven. But with the fall of Adam and Eve, the original purpose of the garden was diminished and turned into Heaven's little park, where the Animal Kingdom lived peacefully with each other.
Many animals are watching Lucifer right now, from small deer to lions, and even extinct Earth creatures are present. It was creepy a bit, but he can presume that's what Adam, Eve, and Lilith felt... no privacy whatsoever.
"How did you manage to pull this off?" Lucifer seriously asked this time.
"Well..." Eve laid her arms on Lucifer's shoulder. "When you're friends with Uriel and Jesus, you could pull off some amazing stuff."
”And they're not worried I will do "Part 2: Electric Boogaloo" on you, apple-eater?"
"If I ate the same apple from the tree of knowledge, it would not add anything new...But I would like you to try to tempt me again." Eve grinned before gesturing to come with her. "Come, let's pay a visit to an old friend."
With a shrug, Lucifer followed her through the garden, admiring the surroundings. In this case, he would have some very bad memories, but this was the place where he met Lilith, which sealed his faith in her. If only she were here with him, it would have been nice.
Eve stopped and crossed her arms, glancing at her old friend, the Tree of Knowledge. The First Woman gently got closer to it and laid her hand on the tree's body. It was her way of paying respect. In some way, the tree of knowledge allowed her to become what she is now.
Eve then sat against the tree, patting the grass for Lucifer to join her. The Fallen Angel accepted her invitation, taking a seat on the grass with her.
"Great view, huh?" Eve gestured with her head for him to look up. Lucifer glanced and saw the entire Hell as a planet.
"It's beautiful..." Lucifer murmured. Down in Hell, you can never appreciate its fauna. Here's a different perspective from heaven's skies.
"I used to remember how I looked above and wondered what the purpose of that planet was before it became...you know."
"It was called the Underworld. It's supposed to be where the Dark Angels lived... essentially the front line of heaven."
"Seems it achieved its purpose then..."
"Kind off... but not for you." Lucifer giggled. Eve shrugged at him, having no desire to argue about politics.
"You know...have you wondered what the purpose of all of it?" Eve started. "I mean, why did our mom and dad in the skies create Earth and Heaven in the first place?"
"Not for me to ask, Eve."
"You don't know?"
"Why should I? He never told us why he created me, you, and everything else you see. And even if I asked, he changed the subject."
"That's true." Eve nodded, remembering talking with God in his physical form that one time. "I once asked him what my purpose was. He said, "You're the beginning, my child. "And still, I'm not sure what he meant by it. We, as "humanity" are a flawed species, eager to go into violence rather than solve problems peacefully. As Adam said to me...we cursed our child."
"I think your kind has a saying: Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next."
"How do you know this?" Eve chuckled, finding it adorable.
"Charlie..." Lucifer said it with a smile. "She read some books for me..."
"Makes sense now..." Eve released a breath. "We definitely live in strange times... but let us enjoy the "unknown" while we can."
And with that, the detective gently moved closer to Lucifer, embracing him as she laid her head on his shoulder and continued to watch the stars above them.
The fallen angel, in silence, embraced his wife's clone, also looking up to enjoy the moment in peace while they could. Ironically, now he understood why Eve had fond memories of this place. For the three of them, they could just sit and watch the stars that burn their lights in the darkness—Lucifer's own stars. And the way they burn, as if there were a sliver of light sparkling in eternal darkness, even among the void.
"So, Eve..." Lucifer started and immediately stopped, waiting for her response.
"Hm?" Eve looked back at him.
"How about having sex here in the Garden?" Lucifer said it casually, but inside the mask, he hid his goofy smile. Eve then raised her head away from him, her face of "Are you serious?" Did he just seriously ask her that in a moment of peace?
"Way to ruin the moment, Lucifer." Eve grumbled.
"What can I say? I'm a rule breaker," he says. And he nudged her, Eve chuckling as she realized he had repeated her words to him in Morningstar Mansion.
"That's who we are, Lucifer." Eve whispered as she laid her head against his shoulder. "Rulebreakers..."
Chapter 9: Bittersweet End...For An Unknown Future [Episode 1: Finale]
Summary:
"Certainty is the calm before the storm.” ― Stewart Stafford
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (5 days before the Extermination), 14:21 PM.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City.
With his departure back to Hell, Lucifer once again set foot on his private property, feeling relieved for himself now that his "welcome" trip to Heaven was over. Normally, he would smile brightly at the thought of Charlie waiting for him at the entrance, only for him to take Charlie in his arms and take her back to the bedroom.
This time, though, he felt dread. Not only because of Charlie's departure but also because of an unexpected surge of new emotions. To think, when he entered Heaven with Eve, he expected to be disgusted to see some of his siblings return, and yet, even the King of Hell had to admit it was difficult to say goodbye to his sister Uriel. Heck, even saying goodbye to Eve was difficult.
And then there was the matter of Mom and Dad's departure. Even now, it sounds ridiculous to admit the truth. As time passed, he got used to knowing their absence...yet that unusual wave of anger was an anomaly for him. God and Goddess were naturally his enemies; sooner or later they would clash with their son... and yet, he was angry that they didn't even say goodbye. Not because of his downfall or exile, but for not telling him.
Somehow, even that old Helel still lingered in him, reminding him of who he was before the Rebellion. At times, Lucifer felt that he should have followed many of the examples of fallen angels: completely strip your angelic ancestry into demonhood. He thought about it and wondered many times if he needed it.
But still, he decided not to do it in the end. He still wasn't completely sure. Maybe it's because of power. Maybe it's because of pride, or maybe he still considers himself an angel of heaven. Even today, Lucifer still felt unsure who he was:
A Demon: Bound by Hell for Eternity.
Or Fallen Angel: Exiled for His Betrayal.
Still, now that his agreement with Heaven has been reinforced, his responsibilities as King of Hell have indeed returned to normal.
After checking to make sure his shadow wasn't spying on him, Lucifer snapped his fingers, swiftly changing from the exorcist's outfit to his traditional white tailcoat. After that, he dropped the costume on the ground, sighed, and snapped his fingers again, producing a small flame. He threw it on the suit, which soon disintegrated into ashes.
Eve urged that he keep it as a gift, since it was defective in the first place. He would still not mind. It was a fairly nice costume for "Hell's Own Halloween" parties... but... well...it'll raise some eyebrows, and some nobles may even protest to the King for wearing the enemy's uniform. The nobility, in particular, became increasingly jingoistic with each purge that occurred on Hell's soil.
Lucifer went back to the mansion's main entrance, appreciating the soothing sound of the breeze. He entered the house softly and made his way to the kitchen. He overheard his wife arguing with someone...but he was certain that Eden's Snake DID IT AGAIN. But Lucifer peered around the corner to be sure.
"This is becoming so typical of you that I'm no longer shocked." Lilith said in her apathetic tone. Serpent lowered his gaze to avoid the queen's icy stare. At this point, he had no power to make excuses to the Queen of Hell.
Two hours had passed since Lucifer left the estate, only to discover Serpent's latest disaster when he returned. Eden's Snake dropped a bucket full of Hell's Finest Apples. Serpent got lucky as 1/3 of the apples survived, avoiding an even worse outcome from Lilith.
Nevertheless, he did clean the floor to cover up the evidence. However, it's not as if Lilith, Queen of Hell, would suspect the recently cleaned floor for no reason. But even if Snake tried to buy some "cheap knock-off" apples from the Ring of Greed, she would've still realized his schemes.
"You have one job, Serpent! ONE JOB!" Lilith showed her finger to illustrate why she was angry at him. "It's not the first time it happened!"
"I'm terribly sorry." Serpent whimpered, still not recovered from Charlie's visit.
"This is all you can do: say "I'm sorry!" Lilith then slapped her own forehead, baffled by this idiocy. "You're in deep trouble because I swear to myself I-"
"Will skin him to death?" This is when Lucifer finally made his entrance. He left the corner and joined his wife in "Everything is the Serpent's Fault." The Queen herself was not surprised he was watching them, but thankfully her mood improved a bit because of seeing him again.
"Back from Limbo, I take it?" While still keeping an eye on Snake, she crossed her arms.
"You bet! Charming place, albeit dreaded...if you catch my drift."
"And the gates?"
"Same as always: it's total shit." Lucifer winked at the end.
Lilith smirked at her husband's joke before turning her gaze to Serpent, who is still curled up in a clutch with his face hidden behind his lengthy body. "And speaking of "pieces of shit," this little one managed to cause some havoc while you were away."
"I already noticed it from your enjoyable discussion with him earlier." Lucifer then shifted his focus to Snake. With a frown, he inquired boringly. "What happened this time, Serpent?"
"I spilled some apples I harvested, brother...sorry about that." Serpent dully explained.
Lucifer released a breath. First saying goodbyes with Eve and Uriel and now this—he was definitely getting old for this shit. "Well whoopsie fucking do. Now I expect you will double the amount of apples by next month. And I don't want to hear any excuses from you on how it will be impossible. No butts, no glory, as some sinners say."
"I think it's "No Guts, No Glory", my love." Lilith needed to point it out, tilting her head a bit with a grin.
"Hey, nowadays it has the same meaning! Where is the glory when you don't have a butt!" Lucifer exclaimed in fake surprise before giving his attention back to Snake. "Are we clear, parasite?"
"Yes, I understand." Serpent sighed.
"Good...carry on, then."
Lucifer then raised his head to look at his wife, nodded, and "marched" down to his chair, falling on it. He then simply began looking awkwardly at the fireplace, deep in contemplation. Lilith raised an eyebrow at her husband. She was anticipating some "foreplay" from him before going at his prey...this was unusual even by Lilith's standards for him. It's unusual to see him like this: bored, dejected, and pitiful to look at.
Lilith then took a step forward, running her fingers against the surface of the chair until they came to rest on Lucifer's shoulder. Rather than engage in typical foreplay, she decided to be direct with him.
"You're in distress, my darling."
"...Hmm?" Finally, he responded with a hum.
"First, you vanish from me for a day. Then you return with that expression, as if I had filed for divorce against you."
"It must be the dreadful atmosphere of Limbo, my darling. I'm fine, really. Just exhausted." Lucifer murmured, lying awkwardly next to her. Despite this, he held Lilith in high regard. But he couldn't tell anyone about his trip to heaven.
"Don't we all?" Lilith sighed and sat down next to Lucifer on the nearest couch. "I was hardly active today, and now I have no motivation."
"Because of Serpent?"
"Both yes and no." Lilith shrugged after a little delay. "Just a few hours ago, he managed to visit Charlie. I'll give him credit for being useful on occasion...IF HE WASN'T A PARASITE FOR THE MOST PART!" Lilith yelled for Serpent to hear her, wherever he was.
"How is Charlie doing?"
"Okay, from what he said... She manages well."
"Good," Lucifer said flatly, before looking at her. "When you will be leaving me again?"
"Same as always: after the extermination." Lilith remarked gloomily, tired as well. There was another awkward silence before Lilith broke it again by adding more. "It seems like only yesterday that we married and I gave birth to Charlie... and now she is a young woman, ready to face whatever Hell has in store for her."
"Makes you wonder if it was intended that way...by them." Lucifer gritted his teeth.
"It might be...but doesn't matter anymore." Lilith then took two glasses and a bottle of wine from the coffee table, pouring some for him and for her. "Even if our little princess left us and I have to uphold a deal with Heaven, let us not forget who we still are. For you and I are King and Queen of degenerates and murderers in this forsaken place."
"I raise for that." Lucifer took the wine and raised it. "To you, My Eternal Love."
"And to you, my handsome Morningstar."
The King and Queen took the shots, with Lucifer barely drinking the wine before laying a half-full bottle of wine on the nearest drawer.
"A bit sour, don't you think?" Lilith expressed her opinion on the wine.
"Want me to "smooth" you up?"
"Tempting...but we will see if you manage not to piss me off." Lilith winked at him before she raised herself from the couch. "I will be in our bedroom if you need me. Need to reprise my script for the next album."
"Ciao, love." Lucifer flicked his hat at her, causing her to smile more. Lilith then proceeded to leave the living room. It took a bit longer than 10 seconds after that for Lucifer to accidentally feel the ring inside his pocket, reminding him of the promise he had made to Eve.
"Crap, I forgot! Lilly, I have a gift for you!"
"Gift?" Lilith repeated it in surprise as she stopped at the entryway to the living room. Her expression then melted into a very adorable smile. "Aren't you a gentleman. I hope it's something nice."
"I think you will like it. Here..." Lucifer reached into his pocket to reveal a ring: the same ring that Eve had given him as a Christmas gift from Eve to Lilith.
"Heh, you're proposing to me again, my love?" Lilith chuckled, but was delighted by this revelation.
"Lilith, I would marry you every day if needed." Lucifer smiled as he asked for her arm with a gesture. Lilith humbly accepted as Lucifer took her arm and laid the ring in her hand, closing it. "But it's a gift as a reminder of who you are, My Eternal Queen."
Lilith's lips lifted. She pecked Lucifer's cheek, "thanking" him for a gift while also implying that there would be "plenty more." The Queen of Hell then examined the ring, noticing the inscription. Of course, since she is..."Eden's born" she easily translated it, chuckling at the description.
"That's pretty humble for me to call myself a "Mother of Humanity" after...everything. But I'm curious: who gave it to you?"
"Well It's-" Lucifer wanted to say it was a gift from her "twin sister," but realized she didn't want him involved with her. So he decided to twist it a bit. "It's Mulciber's ring. He gave it to express his gratitude for everything."
"Tell him I'm delighted by this gift." Lilith then put the ring on her pinkie finger, thus joining the two rings on Lilith's fingers. The Ring of Royalty is on her index finger, and Lucifer's wedding ring is on her ring finger. "As for you..."
The Queen of Hell walked closer and embraced her husband, followed by a passionate kiss. It lasted for a minute before Lilith pulled out, still, their mouths were not far from each other.
"Make sure you're not too busy tonight... maybe I'll have my own gift for you." Lilith whispered all of that, purposely trailing her finger on Lucifer's chest. She unbuttoned at least one button before stopping. It would almost certainly make him more... eager for her later.
"How could I not accept such an offer?" Lucifer returned that lust back at her.
Lilith then let go of him, sensually taking her leave of him. With her gone, Lucifer returned to his chair, taking a seat. Looking to the right, he noticed Serpent was lying on the couch, staring patiently at Lucifer.
"So?" Serpent hissed, not impatient.
"Aren't you sneaky little shit?" Lucifer sneered.
"Try to be...now please tell me you were successful with Heaven."
"I might...might not. What does it matter to you?"
Serpent shook his head, not enjoying these jokes. He crawled closer to King before addressing him.
"Have I ever told you I lived near the Satanic Temple before you found me?" Serpent asked him. Lucifer didn't say anything, but his eyebrows rose slightly. "I heard what the acolytes talk about in the temple: heresy this and heresy that. They view the entire fucking religion of Christianity as a heretical belief in a false god and an usurper. Imagine if they had heard about Charlie's redemption Hotel..."
Lucifer understood what the Serpent meant. While he is the Ruler of Hell, there are some aspects of Hell that Lucifer despises. The thing that Lucifer fought against in the first place...but sadly, it got into Hell as well.
Hell's own religion.
The Dark Pantheon of the Devil.
This religion's origins can be traced back to the early days of Hell. The precursors to the Imp species started worshiping the Dark Lord as their "true God", before the Seven Kings of Hell rose to power. It was only a matter of time before Satanism became the main religion in Hell.
The Ring of Wrath then established the Dark Pantheon in Hell's Dark Ages, which quickly rose from obscurity thanks to the Leader of Wrath, who pursued the goal of forming the so-called "True Religion." In modern times, the Pantheon had nearly complete independence from the kings while also being supported by the King of Wrath and Beelzebub of Gluttony.
The Doctrine of the Dark Pantheon states that the Devil ruled over a void. And that void was perfect, without any chaos or complexity. Then Yahweh and Asherah usurped the Devil's throne, enslaving their fellow God into servitude, and thus starting the creation of the universe in their image. They believed that Lucifer and many other Rebel Angels rose to restore the Devil to this throne and undo the work of the False Gods. But even more laughable, they believed that Lucifer himself was the champion of the Dark Lord and that the Antichrist would bring about the End Times. Eh, Religion...bullshiting its way to being kept in power.
And Lucifer's hatred for the Dark Pantheon was shared by Leviathan, who REALLY despised the concept in the first place. But as per the agreement that the Seven Kings Of Hell forged together, Hell's Bureaucratic Machine would be left alone. Otherwise, Lucifer had to do paperwork every fucking day for the rest of his existence.
"The deal was made, Serpent. They will help me in exchange, I will close my eyes on their spies." Lucifer simply replied this time.
"Well...it's at least something." Serpent nodded, feeling relieved. If, judging by Exterminations, Heaven does get shit done. "You ah, met someone you knew other than Eve?"
"Yeah..." Lucifer reached for his pocket to let out a red feather, taking a deep breath. "Someone who I preferred to join my side."
"Ah, Uriel's feather," Serpent whispered, cursing to himself. "Shit...now I regret not going with you."
"Think she would not attack you?" Lucifer grinned.
"Well, she didn't attack you."
"You sure? I might have murdered her and taken her feather as a trophy."
"Yeah, right. I know you too well, Archangel Helel. You would never hurt your sister in any capacity."
"Well, you got me there, fallen Cherub." Lucifer chuckled at the irony. He then attached Uriel's feather to his hat as a memory trinket. "But you're right. As an older brother to her, it's my duty to protect her from any offenders."
"And despite everything that happened, you still love her....shit, I'm so sorry, Lucifer." Serpent whispered in piety, giving a slow nod of understanding. The King of Hell glanced at him, not sure why he was apologizing. "It must be strange for you to see her after so many years, only to say goodbye abruptly. I hope your visit was worth it in the end..."
"Worth It...heh" Lucifer repeated it, finding it amusing to think it off, but he doesn't know the answer.
Lucifer then glanced at the window, where Heaven was to be seen clearly. He wonders if Uriel is staring at him back at this very moment, missing him just as he is. The King of Hell then returned his glare back at the Serpent, who calmly watched the fallen angel finally give his answer.
"It was-"
"- bittersweet, Eve."
Archangel Uriel, in a different afterlife, stood on the balcony and watched how Hell blistered from Heaven's skies. She hoped and prayed for her mother and father, hoping that Helel would remember her lovingly.
"I know the feeling, Uriel. For my kind, it's a tragedy to say goodbye, knowing you won't see them ever again. Such emotions are..." Eve admitted. Not far away, she gently examined the content of Lucifer's documents. The First Woman can credit Lucifer with being true to his word. Everything that Eve found gave Heaven great advantages against Pandemonium.
Uriel sighed, admitting the First Woman's wisdom. Emotions are a weird phenomenon that is difficult to define. Some angels have learned to manage it, while others have not. In Uriel's case, she never learned to manage them, much like Lucifer did a long time ago.
"Your kind has a saying when you speak about your flaws: "It makes you a human", yet I'm meant to be a perfect being." Uriel then smirked at herself, not believing she was saying this stuff. "Look at me, Archangel: babbling nonsense and lamenting the traitorous sibling..."
"Don't downplay yourself." Eve stopped for a moment. "You don't have to be perfect. All that matters is that you care, Uriel. You care for Helel, and you care for us as human species. To me, you're just as "human" as anyone else. That's enough for me to consider you a friend and a sister."
Uriel quietly giggled at herself, flattered by Eve's words. The light of God then came closer to Eve as she laid her hand on her hip. "You know how to make an Angel blush."
Eve then cast an awkward glance at Uriel, who returned her smile, making the First Lady feel even more weird.
"T-T-The feelings are mutual, My Archangel." Eve cleared her throat. "I-I checked everything twice. Helel didn't leave any surprises."
"Good, let's tell Gabriel then."
The First Woman and the Light of God then left the balcony and returned to Jesus' apartment. A bit earlier this day, Uriel did mention that the guest rooms have better quality. She did mean it, as Jesus's room was a square room with a small table, a wool-made bedroll on the floor, and a corner where bags of bird food lay on the floor.
When Yahweh and Asherah..."left" the heaven, they insisted that the palace in humanity's heaven would be accommodated to the incoming "Savior of Humanity." But Jesus decided to make his palace a public place. Technically, this room is the only thing he owns.
Currently, the Messiah is sitting on the floor, playing chess with his friend and fellow prophet of God, Muhammad. Prophet Muhammad represented the Muslim community here in Heaven, alongside Jesus of Christianity and Abraham of Judaism. Some called them the "Triumvirate" of the Three Major Religions, but they were simply figureheads.
Heaven doesn't discriminate against religious beliefs. If Muslims believe that Jesus is not the Son of God, then that's fine. Humanity was entitled to its opinions and its interpretations. Even "Satanic" apologists or Luciferians were welcome in here, as long as they didn't do anything bad in their mortal lives. But Heaven's Inquisition observed them—one wrong slip, and they might be exiled to Hell.
Near the entrance was Gabriel, walking back and forth, either nervous or worried. He did receive the news that Jesus and Lucifer had come to an agreement, but he took it rather...questionably. Gabriel then noticed them and fixed his posture.
"So?" Gabriel inquired impatiently as he fixed his posture, noticing them entering inside.
"I checked two times, My Archangel. Uriel did "exorcize" it in any case. Still, Helel didn't leave any surprises." Eve replied confidentially.
"See, Gabriel? Helel has a sense of honor." Jesus looked at the messenger, smiling at him.
"And a rare one for a Milak Saqit ," Muhammad commented, choosing the black horse to make his move.
Gabriel sighed; he could swear to his Divine Mother that they would sooner or later regret this.
"Very well, if you're certain to deal with him. Then sure, go ahead! Might as well make him a throne while at it."
"Gabriel, we simply want to help him." Uriel whispered.
"We...or specifically, you want to help?" Gabriel barked back.
"And you don't?"
"Well, duh!" Gabriel exclaimed, only to back down when his sister's expression shifted into sadness. "What I meant...I-I...I'm not sure!"
Gabriel decided to stop, covering his face in frustration. Both the prophets stopped playing, worrying if Gabriel was okay. But everyone understood why the messenger was like that. Being responsible for making sure Heaven worked properly was a lot of work. Not to mention how he made sure organizations like "The Inquisition" and C.H.E.R.U.B didn't go overboard with their responsibilities.
"Uriel, please listen, little sis. I know Helel loved you more than us. But-" Gabriel then uncovered his face, fixing his posture. "I was there when he tried to kill our dad. That Helel was long gone...only the raging psychopath who wanted to become a God remained."
"And so was I, Gabe." Uriel crossed her arms. "I personally fought against Samael. He and his Master Devil are behind everything that happened: they tempted Helel, then he lied to the rebellion. My brother and the rest of 1/3 angels are victims of an Egotistical Primordial Evil Spirit, bound by no morality, only to undo what our father and mother created."
"I vouch for Uriel." Eve added. "I knew Helel when he was just an angel: kind, just, and caring. I'm not afraid to say that I'm proud that my older sister is married to him. I harbor all resentment toward Samael, as he and his Master Devil are the ones who are responsible for Helel's demise, not to mention how Samael raped me to corrupt my oldest son."
"So do I.'' Jesus joined Uriel's side. "Once, during my time in the mortal world, the Devil offered me Earth as his kingdom; in exchange, I would worship him. But I saw through his eyes that he only wanted my demise... to undo what was done."
"And that's the greatest tragedy, don't you think?" Muhammad pondered. "Allah created a purpose for all of us, only for Iblis to curse it."
*Coo-Coo* The Holy Spirit added his opinion about Lucifer and Satan, causing Gabriel to roll his eyes. Everyone is against him on that matter.
"Well, looks like I'm the douchebag in here."
"Of course not, my Archangel. We could at least agree that Devil is the biggest asshole in this entire universe." Eve offered to compromise, causing Gabriel to chuckle.
"No need to even tell, Love." Uriel nodded to Eve's offer.
"100% with you, Mother Eve." Jesus also added.
"May Allah smite that undoer." Muhammad finished.
*Holy Spirit's Dove Sound of insulting the Devil in every way imaginable*
"Good then!" Eve clapped her hands together. Glad that they eased the tension. "And speaking of Satan...what Lucifer offered us is rather interesting." Detective Eve then gestured to the two archangels to come near the table. Eve, in the meantime, removed some content from the documents.
"So...I presume you both know that Pandemonium is the Capital City of Hell, a place where the Stygian Council is located." Eve explained, revealing the next pair of images. "Lucifer gave us a blueprint of Pandemonium’s Layout. And the main thing...is this:"
Eve then revealed the letter. Gabriel took it to read for himself.
Your Majesty, King Lucifer of Morningstar Dynasty.
It's no secret we hate each other, and our conflict caused a schism here at the Stygian Council.
But believe me, my opposition to you is based on the concept of why we're here in the first place.
As Regent to our True God, it's my duty to oversee the Rise of the Anti-Christ and Preparation for War of Final Judgment.
We successfully reconquered Limbo from that Wretched King Minos. Now, we have every opportunity to strike at the World of God's Slaves, but you delay it every time.
Keep in mind, as more of Heaven's Purges are occurring, the stronger Heaven is growing against us. That's why I insist that Our Army of Hell should establish permanent bases in your Ring.
I advise thinking it through Lucifer. If you want to discuss it further with me, then come to The City of Dis during the Purge of 2020. The Exorcists do not venture down to Pandemonium.
Remember: I seek only to finish what you started. Hell must be united against the Greatest Enemy in the skies. Your Cooperation with The Rest Of Us is a key to success.
Yours, truly: Lord Regent Of Iblis, Iblis.
"Shaitan..." Gabriel cursed this name like a vermin. There is no better traitor than Satan himself and his lackey.
"You know him?" Uriel asked her brother.
"You knew him as Cherub Shaitan: the left hand of Archangel Samael." Gabriel explained, still disgusted by the name. "He, alongside the 3/4 th of the Cherubs, joined the rebellion and were cast out."
"He rules the unholy city of Dis on behalf of the Devil himself." Eve explained further.
"Now it all makes sense. The Dark Lord uses Shaitan as a "puppet" to make sure his grip is still tight in Hell." The Prophet Muhammad provided his thoughts.
"When there is a "puppet," there is always a master in the shadows." Jesus added to Muhammad's explanation.
"And so Helel wants us to assassinate Shaitan?" Gabriel finished, throwing his arms in the air at hearing this. "How delightful of him, so we are basically hired killers employed by the King of Hell?"
"Aren't we?" Eve chuckled. "I mean, the Exorcists have a branch dedicated to assassinating specific Demons. Plus, we prefer it if Lucifer remains in power."
"I have to agree on that." Jesus added. "If not for Lucifer, then Judgment Day would have occurred earlier."
Gabriel was still not convinced. He wasn’t against killing Shaitan because that fallen cherub was the main drive for Hell to destroy Heaven, but he doesn't exactly want to help Lucifer out either.
"Remember this, Gabriel. Shaitan is the voice of the Dark Lord. Should we cut the voice, the Dark Lord would not have his influence on the rest of Hell." Uriel tried to reason with him.
Gabriel released a breath. Unfortunately, he had to agree. As humans sometimes say, if you cut the head, the rest will crumble with it.
"Alright, we are doing this because it will benefit us. So how exactly will we get Shaitan?"
"I think Lucifer provided the answer." Eve whispered, taking the layout to show them what she meant. "Huh, it's weird to say, but... Pandemonium is defenseless."
"Defenseless!?" Gabriel repeated this, nearly wheezing from hearing it. "Their capital doesn't have their defenses!?"
"Apparently, the Seven Kings of Hell are responsible for financing Pandemonium's condition. According to the blueprint, the Stygian Senate has had to put off building defenses since the First Purge in 1920 because the Seven Kings gave so little for Pandemonium's budget. As of right now, the Ring of Wrath is the main defense against Pandemonium. Most of Hell's Legions are located there."
"And we have an element of surprise." Uriel noted, now understanding Lucifer's intentions. "We could send exorcist assassins to deal with Shaitan. Quick and simple."
"Which means Archangel Azrael must know this..." Gabriel pointed this out.
"And Michael too." Uriel was also added.
"Sweetmother Asherah..." Gabriel cursed; it would be preferable if neither Azrael nor Michael would.
"There is nothing we can do." Eve sighed. "It's best to send an exorcist. It would be a more believable story in Hell if the Exorcists got Shaitan rather than a Powerful Angel..."
"Very well then..." Gabriel nodded. "Eve, can you make sure these documents were given by our spies rather than...old friend of ours? I don't want any drama."
"Sure thing, no harder than leaking some information to D.H.O.R.K.S. It will be done."
"Good." Gabriel then glanced at his sister. "Uriel, I have to make sure that C.H.E.R.U.B is not causing mischief. Inform Michael about our...findings for me, okay?"
"Of course, brother."
"Thanks, sister." Gabriel smiled. "Well, duty calls once again...and happy birthday, Jesus."
"Thank you, Gabriel." Jesus smiled as he continued to play chess with his friend.
And with that, Gabriel flicked his fingers, producing a faint light that "consumed" him, making him disappear completely.
"And I'm going to leak the information to E.O.P." Eve said to herself, taking Lucifer's papers and compiling them together. "It's been a pleasure to see you again, Uriel."
"To you as well. May you walk on the path of God, love, as you always do."
Uriel then came closer and embraced the First Woman, causing Eve to blush a lot. Prophet Muhammad smiled at that. He was a little out of touch with what was going on in the mortal world, but he'd heard it was now fairly common. Perhaps Allah intended it that way.
The Angel of God's Light then let go of Eve, producing a bright smile at the first woman, who blushed madly. It was so adorable to see her like this. Eve awkwardly gave a nod as a goodbye sign before storming out of the room, probably trying to hide her blush from the rest.
"You two will be okay?" She addressed two prophets, who were having fun.
"Of course, Uriel. I can compliment Muhamad on his chess skills."
"You're humble, Prophet Jesus." Muhamad chuckled. "But I played with Saladin a lot to improve my skills. Perhaps I could teach you how to play it."
"I would be delighted." Jesus humbly nodded.
"Have fun then." Uriel patted Jesus on the shoulder. She returned to the balcony, extending her wings to fly away.
Muhammad glanced back, to be sure she was not here before he could ask his fellow prophet. "Can I ask you a question? Is Archangel Uriel in love with Eve?"
Jesus took a pawn before coming to a halt, his hand in the air, clutching it as he pondered.
"I actually don't know. I know Uriel is very nice to every human she encounters. Why do you ask?"
"It's weird how time flies, huh?" The Prophet of Islam released a breath. "Back in our respective times. These types of norms would have been shunned."
"Everything changes, Muhammad. Principles change as time progresses. There is nothing we can do."
"I agree.." Muhammad nodded, only to lower his eyes down. Even Jesus noticed it.
"Something troubles you?"
Muhammad glanced at him. It's better to ask regardless. "Tell me, have you ever felt you failed to teach your followers properly. We both spread the word of our God...yet our followers murdered each other for this.."
Jesus didn't reply at first. He took a minute to think of it.
"Sometimes, I do. But it is of such a nature that we, as God's children, will have our own interpretations. Back then, I had no idea that my supporters would twist my words to justify the murder of Jews. Judas might have betrayed me...but he is still my disciple, whom I love and care...and I pray that he is alive and well...down there."
"I understand..." Muhammad nodded slowly. "I wished my teaching was meant to spread the word of God in a peaceful way...but I instead conquered Arabia and attacked fellow believers in the Byzantine Empire, thinking they were heretics."
"It's good that you acknowledge this, Muhammad. But no one is perfect, including me. "After all, the Christian world considers me a pacifist, despite the fact that I told my followers to defend themselves with swords... and that time when I made a whip out of cords and drove everyone out of the temple area."
"I thought it was just rumors."
"No, it happened. I was angry at how they played the card games in the Temple of God." Jesus then chuckled. "I flipped their tables and told them to leave. I had a long conversation with Gabriel about how I shouldn't have done it."
"I know the feeling..." Muhammad laughed back. "Ahh, we're quite a bunch of hypocritical prophets, my friend."
"As intended..." Jesus smiled before looking at his bird friend, who calmly watched them play the game. "Don't you agree, Spirit?"
*Coo-Coo* The Holy Spirit flapped his wings excitedly.
"He agrees." Jesus shrugged, before gesturing at the chessboard. "Shall we continue?"
"You don't need to ask."
And with that, the Prophets began another round of chess.
A few Minutes Later.
As Gabriel asked, Uriel flew herself outside to inform Michael about... their findings. Michael spends his time as Regent of Heaven in Higher Heaven, which is home to God and the Goddess and their respective thrones. When Uriel entered through the portal. Her "human" form was "burnt" thus revealing her true form—the same form that Eve got scared of when she met Uriel.
The Higher Heaven is God's abode and the highest transcended realm of Heaven itself. Here, the blessed, celestial beings are so divine that they are made of pure light and are the source of light and creation. To properly describe it, it is said by many to be utterly impossible in human words. But it's home to angels, including the Heaven's Choir:
Heaven's Choir was formed after the God's and Goddess' departure by Archangel Michael himself with the help of Metatron. They were responsible for Heaven's bureaucratic machine, which had a strongly defined hierarchy. The hierarchy followed this order.
Main Seven Archangels - First Of God's and Goddess' Creations.
Seraphim - Guardians of the Throne
Cherubim - Guardians of the Palace.
Throne/Ophanim- Angels of Knowledge.
Dominion - Regulators, who make sure the hierarchy is obeyed.
Virtue/Strongholds - Governors of celestial bodies
Power - Warriors Of Heaven.
Principality - Protectors Of Humanity.
Lesser Archangel - Archangels that came after Zadkiel.
Ars Paulina - Writers Of Grimoire and What's Left Of Pre-Rebellion Goetia.
Dark Angel/Exorcist/Exterminator - Angels of Death.
Malakh - Common Messenger
Guardian Angel - Protectors of Specific Person,
Cherubs- Angels of Love, Servants to Cherubims
To some extent, Uriel got lucky to be a Main Seven Archangel. Many times, the Lesser Archangels asked Uriel to speak on their behalf of them. The Seraphims tended to never listen to anyone below them. Hence, the Lesser Archangel's concerns are not being delivered to Michael. The system, of course, wasn’t completely perfect, but it worked most of the time.
As Uriel's True Form flew its way to "Palace", The Cherubims noticed her and did nothing. Most of them just gave her a bow with their four heads and minded their own business. It wasn't until Uriel entered the palace and made her way to the throne room that things became complicated.
One of Seraphims stopped singing as a few of its eyes caught attention from Uriel. Then Seraphim slowly, very slowly, turned all of its eyes at her, finishing with a full "body" turn. And that followed as every Seraphims, in chronological order, stopped singing and turned their attention toward Uriel.
Uriel...who is an Angel, no less, got creeped out. Somehow, you get so used to humans that you're now getting creeped out by your fellow brothers.
*Loud Stomp*
All of the Seraphims, then, out of nowhere, again started singing as if their staring hadn't happened. But it took at least a few seconds for Uriel to realize it was a command to stand down from none other than him.
Michael.
Or rather, in his true form.
Archangel Michael stood on the stairs that led to the magnificent throne, protecting it from any danger. There, Uriel's few eyes blinked in unison as she flew closer to him. Still, Michael didn't mind, as he continued to defend his father's throne with zeal. Only when she flew very close, one of his many eyes on his wings pay attention to her.
Calmly asked Uriel.
Michael didn't bother, but only then did he "rip" his sword out of the ground and unsheathe it before all of his eyes glanced at her directly. There, Uriel got what she wanted.
His Attention
Notes:
And finally, this chapter concludes Lucifer's arch.
So with Lucifer's part is done, I want to switch to other pair of characters before I'm going to finally switch at Hazbin Gang. Mainly, I want to reveal some stuff about Heaven and little bit explore of Exorcist's POV on this whole situation.
Then after that, It's to Hazbin Gang.
Chapter 10: Episode 2: The Angels Of Death
Summary:
"I pledge the chastity of my soul, and obedience to God and to you, Grandmaster of the Exorcism Order, blessed by Archangel Azrael and be set, according to the rules and practices of the Order, to deliver merciless justice upon the enemies of God." — Oath sworn upon admission into The Knight Order of Harrowing and Exorcism by Saint Azrael.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
December 23, 2019, AD (8 days before the Extermination\2 days before Lucifer's Arrival), 8:21 AM.
Heaven/The Empyrean City/Empyrean Transit System.
Loading
...
ERROR!
Please reinsert your identification card.
According to popular belief in Heaven, exorcists were often stereotyped for being impatient and willing to "stab their way" to solve their problems. While it wasn’t quite accurate, he'd much rather punch and stab that terminal than waste his time on it.
Currently, a male exorcist in striped gray trousers, a beige shirt, a denim vest, and a gray rancher hat with an exorcist's feather attached as an accessory, as well as the common Exorcist's uniform underneath all of his clothes, waited for the terminal to read his ID so that he could be transferred to the restricted sector of Human Heaven.
"Dumme Maschine." The Exorcist mumbled under his breath as he tapped his feet on the metal floor of a platform. He swore to God that he should have just flown away with his wings. The only problem was that he couldn't do that because the sector has limited access.
In a few instances of ejecting and reinserting the card, sometimes holding the card tightly in the ID slot reader, he was finally blessed by God himself through this suffering.
Loading...
...
ID recognized!
Name: Rönne Schaffer
Date of Birth: 21.03.1893
Date of Death: 03.08.1914
Occupation: Knight-Brother (The Knight Order of Harrowing and Exorcism [Sharpshooter Branch])
...
Please use line number 21 to report to your destination.
Rönne Schaffer breathed a sigh of relief as he withdrew his ID card and placed it inside his little satchel before making his way to the platform for line 21. At that location, the electric high-speed train had already arrived and was awaiting its departure.
The Empyrean Transit System was created to balance out the effects of the Empyrean's massive scales. There are fewer than 15% of mortal souls who have wings, limiting their travel abilities. But thankfully, Heaven provides several quick ways to get there, from modern skycars to spaceships, or you could ask a God-created angel to teleport you. It occurred sometimes, but it was an uncommon thing to see.
With little further ado, The Exorcist boarded the passenger train, which was mainly empty anyway, with only at least three other Exorcists present, to whom Rönne flipped his cowboy hat in a silent greeting before choosing an empty seat. The train remained silent for at least a minute before closing its doors and eventually moving. Because it was a high-speed train, the train reached 600 km/h in less than one minute.
*Bing*
*Good morning and welcome to the Empyrean Transit System. This automated train is provided for the security and convenience of Heaven's Military-Industrial Sector*.
*This train is inbound from Sector 3: Main Transit Hub to Sector A: The Academy Of Harrowing and Exorcism. If your intended destination is a high-security area beyond Sector A, you will need to return to the Main Transit Hub and board a high-security train. If you have not yet submitted your identity to the retinal clearance system, you must report to Sector Personnel for processing before you will be permitted into the high-security branch of the transit system.*
This message caused Rönne Schaffer's lips to form a small grin as he gazed out the window. As an Exorcist, you learn about Heaven's dirty little secrets that the rest of Heaven is unaware of. The PA intended "security and convenience" to mean that they forbade ordinary Heavenly citizens from entering this region. Officially, Heaven's military-industrial sector is a restricted zone that only Exorcists can access. It's also where "Heaven's Teeth" are created: spears, heavenly-forged weapons, tanks, planes, and so on.
While the train went through the deep black tunnel and the automated broadcaster spoke its monotonous stuff, Rönne took advantage of the time to double-check his orders for the day, reaching for his bag to get a little piece of paper.
Knight-Brother Rönne Schaffer
I apologize on behalf of the entire order for the small inconvenience, especially with Christmas approaching.
But, with the Purge of 2020 knocking on our doors, we had to make some adjustments here in order. And, sadly, your Knight-Brother, Prior Reginald of Sidon, will be unable to attend the first conference for our newly recruited cadets.
I'd like to offer you the position as Reginald's replacement. I feel that senior exorcists like you can teach our newest recruits a lot about exorcism.
Remember that it is not obligatory and hence not necessary. But I was informed that you seek a recognition in the order. In exchange for performing this work, I may give my vouch to allow you to have an chance of some promotion.
Despite this, I always feel you're an an excellent addition to the Order.
Your Grandmaster Of Exorcism Order And Servant To Archangel Azrael: Aclima
While it's nice that Grandmaster Aclima doesn't require him, being assigned to these duties is still a privilege. After all, despite the criticism, being an exorcist is a noble profession. You join the troops that hold Hell at bay as a cadet. Time and time again, The Order told how the Great Enemy never sleeps and will constantly strive to undermine Heaven in whatever manner they can. As a result, you do God's work: preserve his creation and exterminate the traitors who have betrayed his holiness.
But that's what they said in the beginning.
In truth, you'd come to satiate your bloodlust for sinners. To some, it was a perfectly reasonable excuse to join the Exorcists. However, others believe that the orders suffered from an...identity crisis. After all, the Knight-Brother is an Exorcist "Veteran." His nearly century of service entitled him to the title "Veteran." As a result, he lived through a century of the Order's existence, and a lot changed.
The extermination, which been happening since...quite a long time ago, became less efficient over time. The initial goal was to kill Hell's inhabitants to limit Hell's capacity to attack Earth or Heaven in return. However, as time passed, it became more difficult to eradicate the entire Hell.
The Lower Rings were Hell's military powerhouse. There, Hell's soldiers were trained to repel approaching Heaven's raids and were highly adept at restraining them. However, the higher rings, particularly Pride, were an ideal place for exorcists to purge. As a result, at the close of the twentieth century, The Exorcist began to focus mostly on the Pride Ring, while still allowing at least some Legions of Exorcists to fight in other rings, although much rarely.
And of course, there was a "crisis of reputation" as the pacifists in Heaven believed that exorcists were just painfully evil and should be disbanded. Hell, even some Archangels spoke against them. Despite this criticism, the Elder Council remained silent because there was a harsh truth.
An exorcist was a warrior of God. The knight, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war. The true exorcist fights not because he hates what is in front of him but because he loves what is on a distant planet with a halo on it.
...
And God bless it’s still the case for him.
*Now arriving at Sector A: The Academy of Exorcism and Harrowing*
The train came to a halt on the platform, where one of the exorcists was stationed, and came closer to allow the door to be opened; this is required in case there is a citizen aboard the train who has to be arrested.
"Good morning, brothers and sisters. I expected more of you, though." The guard exorcist then pressed the last button, which opened the train door.
As the three Exorcists headed towards the academy, the guard gave a nod in silent greeting, only for Rönne Schaffer to come to a halt.
"Guten morgen, brother." The cowboy saluted his comrade respectfully. "Grandmaster Aclima informed me that I would be replacing Prior Reginald."
"Eh, it's best for you to report to our administrator at the entrance." The guard Exorcist, pointed with his thumb at the entrance behind him. "I'm just guarding the platform...rather than celebrating Christmas or punching an imp to death…."
"All right...thanks for the pointers." Rönne nodded and walked inside.
The academy's main entry hall was pristine and generally nice to look at. In fact, despite being a member of the so-called "Heaven's Army," the quality of everything here was out of this world. In fact, even the Exorcist dormitories were pretty nice.
Then Exorcist Schaffer approached a fellow female exorcist, who was looking at a monitor in boredom, to report his arrival.
"Knight-Sister Aveline. Grandmaster Aclima asked me to fill in for Prior Reginald's position for today."
"Hmm?" Exorcist Aveline grunted as she boredom-looked at him, only to immediately correct her posture because she didn't realize her fellow brother-in-arms was on a serious matter. "Please accept my apologies, Knight-Brother. Yes, we were informed that you would be taking over for Reginald. Please proceed to Room 201; your students are already there!"
"Right..." Rönne scratched his neck and offered an uncomfortable nod. "Do you have any recommendations or requirements?"
"No, not at all! Explain what our organization stands for. Everything will be alright if you just be yourself. Just try to avoid the "Genocide" topics, okay?"
"And try not to go "gunblazing" on them, Cowpoke." A passerby exorcist jokingly called out to Rönne. Even the administrator could not contain her little chuckle.
1) "Geh einen Schwanz essen, Ritter-Bruder!" Rönne playfully swore at him, prompting the Exorcist to give a brief thumbs-up before leaving, as if he was going to do it anyway. Eh, jokers, but they did contribute to the mood of the Exorcism Order. Regardless, Rönne gave Aveline a courteous nod before continuing on his way through the institution.
Taking the second level, he made his way along the long halls with doors leading to classes, welcoming every exorcist he saw along the way. He came to a halt in the location specified by Sister Avelline: Classroom 201.
"End of the line..." Rönne mumbled to himself. His fingers tightened into a fist, fearful of tarnishing the order's reputation if he wasn't careful. But it didn't last 10 seconds for Rönne. These students have already passed the "selection process" and at least must have some understanding of what they will be doing in their future careers. Thus, there is no reason to lie or exaggerate. Like Knight-Sister Aveline said earlier, just be yourself.
And so, here goes nothing.
After pressing the panel, the doors opened, allowing Rönne Schaffer to enter. He was welcomed by at least 24 students, who were peacefully sitting at their desks. Some of them were simply surfing on their Heavenphones while others were conversing with one another. When they realized that a "teacher" had arrived, all of the students stopped conversing and turned their attention to his presence. Exorcist Schaffer can already tell they'll be an excellent addition to Heaven's Exorcists because of their discipline.
"Howdy y'all. I apologize on behalf of our order for any inconvenience as your teacher, Reginald, will not be available today. But don't fret; he will continue to be your supervisor and instructor for your courses. Instead of him, I'll give a broad overview and introduction." Rönne smiled at them as he made his way to the teacher's desk. He then wrote his name on the board with a feather pen. "My name is Rönne Schaffer, and I serve as your Knight-Brother in the Order of Exorcism and Harrowing. Most of the time, I teach "Fire Weaponry" specialization in Phase 2 of your training period. Depending on how things go, I might see some of you at my shooting range one day."
The Exorcist then clears his throat to proceed further.
"First and foremost, I'd like to congratulate you on passing the selection process. Without a doubt, our order chose the finest for this assignment. But take note of a warning, my brothers and sisters. You're not playing a "child's game" here." Rönne then purposefully came to a halt as he observed the student's reaction. Some students exchanged glances, confused by his remark. Hence he moved forward with his speech. "Before I proceed, please raise your hands if you are aware of what our order is doing."
Except for one male and one female exorcist student, almost all students raised their hands.
"You two, names." Rönne addressed the ones who didn't raise their hands.
"My name is Daniel Anders, sir." The male student stood up and performed a military salute.
"And my name is Sofia Kristensen....sir" The female one answered awkwardly, forgetting to salute and then correcting herself.
"As much it's very charming you too to call me sir, this is not the army, Squire-Brother Anders and Squire-Sister Sofia. The Knighthood of Exorcists do not use army culture, contrary to popular belief." Rönne smiled at them. But he would have lied to himself if he didn't admit that it's still a huge honor for them to do it. "Remember this: we are all brothers and sisters of the order, no matter the ranks we bear. We only respond to Archangel Azrael and to your Master Of Legion when needed.... now tell me, why did you both join if you didn't know anything?"
"Well..." Daniel took a deep breath before continuing. "I heard you're performing God's work here....I-I mean like I've heard a lot that Lucifer is devouring children in Hell on a regular basis. I believed myself that I might help put a stop to this madness, so I applied here."
"As for me, I was killed by several imps a few months ago, and I chose to apply here to exact punishment on them." Squire-sister Sofia stated her reasoning.
Rönne hummed at first. It's a frequent thing to hear from recruits. Both Squire-Brother Anders and Squire-Sister Sofia symbolize the typical reasons for joining the Exorcists: either to battle their enemies in Hell or to slay demons for fun, but these two reasons kind of mix together occasionally if he is 100 percent honest.
"Duly noted: At ease, Squires." Rönne gave a nod, as he was satisfied with their answers...kind of. "While it's not up to me to decide if you're worthy or not, I still want to warn you all: This is a serious matter you will deal with. You will kill, slaughter, and commit sins to protect Heaven, and you may be killed if you are not careful. I offer one final chance for you to decide if you really want this line of work. Those who prefer not...you may leave now."
Rönne Schaffer gave them a minute to think it over. But he knew no one would leave. And when one minute passed, it cemented itself. Hence he clasped his hands again and held them together.
"Excellent, Squires. Then I formally welcome you all to Saint Azrael's Knight Order of Exorcism and Harrowing. Your training will now be separated into two phases: Phase 1 and Phase 2. In Phase 1, you will learn theoretical foundational information ranging from the History of the Order to Demon Killing 101. You'll have an entire mortal year to do it. Phase 2 is where you will be thoroughly taught over a two-year period. Then you will be educated in specialized training, which means that some of you may become melee specialized exorcists or even ranged weaponry exorcists. Your courses will officially begin on January 3, 2020. You have every right to enjoy the Christmas holidays, just like me and the rest of the Order. Until then, I wish you a Merry Christmas...dismissed."
With that, the students left their desks and exited the room, with Rönne waving goodbye from the doorway. The final one was Squire Daniel, whom Rönne then blocked the route.
"Before you leave, I need to speak with you. When I told you about all the things you'd do, I meant this, Daniel. Are you certain about this?" Rönne inquired stockily, so the squire might grasp the gravity of his query.
"Of course, that’s why I decided to join in." Daniel nodded confidently. Yet Rönne still sighed, not satisfied that the Squire didn't even take a second to think.
"Listen kiddo. I understand your eagerness. I truly do. Once I was in your shoes, I thought I would fight for the greater good. Then I saw the horrors that changed my perspective...are you really ready to go down this path as I was?"
"But why wouldn't I? We are fighting against the Demons...our greatest enemies." Daniel was confused with the question.
Rönne rolled his eyes at this answer. He was afraid he would have to provide this example to make Daniel think better.
"Let me ask you this instead and think about very thoughtfully: If, during the Purge, you encounter a carriage with a little baby imp inside and is crying for their mommy...would you pull the trigger or stab that baby?"
There, Daniel completely closed his mouth. A shock formed on his face, just as Rönne thought he would have. The Gunslinger Exorcist then reached for his holster, revealing his Heavenly Forged Revolver to Daniel, hoping the student understood why he brought it up.
"I pray you won't experience something like this if you become a knight, Squire." Rönne then did a short revolver flip before holstering it in his belt and moving away to clear the path for young recruit to leave. "I recommend you think it through...dismissed."
Squire Daniel, without a word, left the classroom. Judging by his face, Rönne managed to at least make him think again, and there was a chance it would be the last time he heard from him. But he could not exactly blame him. Many exorcist recruits arrive full of enthusiasm, only to discover the true face of the War with Hell. And those who remained became hardened, or, to put it mildly, zealots, no longer giving any single thought before plunging a spear into a demon or sinner, be it a woman, a man, or a child demon.
Such as he was like this
Such as he became like this
Such a tragedy of this long war
December 24, 2019, AD (7 days before the Extermination\1 day before Lucifer's Arrival), 8:21am.
Heaven/The Empyrean City/Military Industrial Sector/Academy of Exorcism And Harrowing By Saint Azrael/Training Area: Shooting Area.
"You have one minute."
"30 points is max. 15 to pass the exam."
"As for the rest: you know the drill."
"Without a duo: On my mark..."
"Set!"
"START!"
The main training facility on the other side of the academy houses the Exorcist's yearly training program, which includes anything from mannequin target practice to unique "parkour courses."
Specialized exorcists that specialize in ranged weapons are called "sharpshooters" or "Crossshooters" owing to the famous "Crosseye" visor on their masks. While the common exorcists tend to charge at their opponents, the sharpshooters prefer to occupy the higher ground and snipe their foes from a safe distance.
The Exorcist Sharpshooter must master three elements of fire weapon mastery: speed, accuracy, and awareness. As a result, it's up to Exorcist Rönne Shaffer to ensure that his brothers are prepared to be the Order's fiercest snipers. Currently, almost four graduating squires are taking their last exams in preparation for joining the next Extermination.
As the squires fired their weapons at the target practice, Rönne didn't see any issues with their performance. But a few minutes later, he took note of how one the Exorcist battled to keep up with his colleagues in a far-left shooting booth.
*Bing*
“Stop!" Exorcist Rönne yelled, indicating the conclusion of the exams. "Now clear your chambers and put down your weapons!"
The exorcists all came to a halt and lifted their weapons. They then withdrew the magazines from their guns and laid their weapons down, waiting for the senior exorcist to respond. Rönne then took a note from the table and proceeded to the far-right booth to verify the results.
"Squire AG-XIX-51: 26 of 30. Passed!" He noted the accomplishment on his report before moving on to the next one. "Squire EL-XIX-73: 24 of 30. Passed! Squire TZ-XIX-24: 19 Of 30. Not bad, but still a place to improve. Passed!" Once he got to the end. He took a deep breath, looking at the results of the last one. "Squire VS-XXI-06....13 of 30...Fail."
Marking the result, the Exorcist then motioned for them to depart. "That's all I've got for today. Squire VS, you'll be staying here."
The squires saluted and marched out of the shooting range, leaving the final squire alone. He averted his attention from his teacher, something that Knight-Brother Shaffer did not approve of.
"Squire-Brother Victor, please explain. Why exactly did you fail your test?" Rönne inquired quietly, still rather harsh in his tone.
"My rifle was jammed." Squire Victor said something before going silent again.
"It's a bolter, squire…or rather, a bolt-action rifle, if you prefer a formal name.” Rönne pointed this out in a not amusing manner before deciding to correct the squire even more. "You know the drill: bolt-action firearms use a rotating bolt design, where the handle must first be rotated upward to unlock the bolt from the receiver, then pulled backward to open the breech and allow any spent cartridge case to be extracted and ejected."
He then returned it to the booth before delivering the verdict. "The truth is, you're impatient. This demonstrates that you are a better fit for our Sword Brethren. I can arrange for you to be transferred to the melee fighter specialization, but it will take another year of training for you.”
"NO!" Victor exclaimed, only to fix his manners infront of him. "I mean with all respect, just give me another chance. I believe I can handle this, Knight-Brother."
"Very well then..." Rönne sighed, deciding to not bother arguing. He then gestured for Squire to take the rifle. "Let me see how you shoot first."
The squire once again took the rifle, put the magazine in, and injected the bullet into the chamber, aiming at the target. Rönne then pushed a button to start the round. Even at first glance, the Exorcist realized the rookie's mistakes: too aggressive attempts to release a bullet after each trigger pull, delaying his ability to fire back.
"When you want to release a bolt, don't just yank it. Gently push the bolt back to release a bullet. You're not in the race, Squire."
"Easy for you to say, Knight-Brother."
"I was in your own shoes once, squire." Rönne chuckled quietly. "And trust me, remember the simple rule of any firearm: handle your rifle with care, and it will take care of you in return."
Squire Exorcist did give a nod before he aimed at the targets, held his breath, and released it after pulling the trigger. As he fired, he tried to be gentle by releasing a bolt. This time, he was quicker and managed to score at least 17 of 30 hits.
"See? Not that difficult. Of course, there is still the matter of the quick snipe and reload method that you need to get used to. The shooting range is always open for you to practice. As for your test, January 4 will be your second attempt. Should you succeed, you will join the Purge of 2021 instead."
"Understood...and thank you, Knight-Brother."
"Go on, have fun at Christmas." Rönne patted Squire's shoulder as he took the rifle from the recruit's hands, gesturing to him that he was free from training. The squire did a salute and left the shooting range, with the Exorcist picking up the rest of the rifles in the shooting booth. And so concludes the 2019 training session. This year has been interesting, to say the least.
*Ring*
"Great..." Rönne sighed, but he reached for his hand to accept the call in his earset. "Knight-Brother Rönne is listening."
2) "Ohayō gozaimasu, Rönne-San" A voice with a strong Japanese accent emitted from his earset. "My sincere apologies if I'm bothering you right now."
"No worries, Herr Miu Ogawa. I'm done with the recruits already." Rönne explained as he grabbed one of the rifles in spare storage. "So what's up?"
3) "Tenshi Azrael wanted to ask you through me about the status of the freshly graduated recruits. He is too busy to do it by himself."
"Tell him we had a good graduation number for this year." Rönne calmly replied as he walked to the nearest table, taking a seat on it to examine if the firing mechanism was working properly. Just in case Victor was not lying about jamming. "However, we've seen a significant decrease in Sharpshooter Branch."
"Any reason for the decrease, Rönne-San?"
"Well, in my humble opinion. I guess it's because our recruits don't have any patience to waste their time with firearms." Rönne shrugged. He heard how his fellow Exorcist Samurai chuckled quietly. "I take it you agree as well."
"True patience consists in bearing what is unbearable. Wisdom that I also share with them." The Samurai Exorcist pointed this out in Rönne's Earset.
"Well, I don't doubt you prefer katanas to firearms, Herr Miu. Imagine if your daimyo had told you to use a European musket instead when you were alive.
"He would have called your invention a "dishonorable tool." Rönne-San. But the truth is: a warrior with a long-range killing device is the same warrior as one with a sword. It takes a lot of patience and control to master the art of fire-weaponry."
"That's rather liberal thinking for a Samurai." Rönne decided to point it out.
"You cannot fight against change, Rönne-San. We should always welcome it in our hearts."
"True words to live by, Knight-Brother." Rönne smiled at his fellow brother's encouragement. Unfortunately, he is unsure whether his fellow samurai is correct. Some changes are quite good, while others are questionable. The change in the order is one of the instances where "change" seems doubtful to him.
"I take it you will be joining the Christmas celebrations?" Samurai added.
"Yeah, most, if not all, of our brothers have already left for it." Rönne said as he returned to place the rifle back in the weapon locker after confirming the rifle was 100% functional.
"What about your roommate, Aikaterine?"
"She doesn't exactly celebrate it as she is not Christian. I think she will be hanging around in the academy."
"I see. Well then, I won't waste your time anymore. I will report to Archangel Azrael what you said to me. 4) "Jikai made, Rönne-San"
5) "Ihnen auch, Miu" Rönne said his goodbyes, ending his call, and turned the lights off at the shooting range. The Exorcist turned back to glance at the room before releasing a breath. At long last, after nearly a full- year of work, he will have a one-week day off before the Purge.
And there's Christmas to look forward to.
December 25, 2019, AD (6 days before the Extermination\3 hours before Lucifer's Arrival), 00:00 AM.
Heaven/The Empyrean City/Military Industrial Sector/Academy of Exorcism And Harrowing By Saint Azrael/Dormitories.
*Alarm Beep*
Rönne slammed the alarm, turning it off. He produced a low growl...still would rather have a day off in his bed. But he promised his old friend and thus raised himself. He rubbed his face and yawned before he looked up. His roommate is not here, but with the sound of quiet splashing, he already knows where she is. After putting his cowboy outfit on, he made his way to the bathroom. There he found her, having a shower.
Lieutenant Knight-Sister Aikaterine is Rönne's fellow exorcist, with whom he shares a dormitory. She lived during the Ottoman Empire's reign in the middle of the 19th century and has both Greek/Byzantine and Turkish/Ottoman ancestry, making her a "Greco-Turkish" ethnic person.
She specializes in "explosive" weaponry, from grenades to grenade launchers in a general sense. She sometimes does joke about how she will go "1453" on fellow Christian Exorcists who are insulting her for being a Muslim. It's a rare occurrence as chaplains discipline Exorcists, but it still happens, sadly.
"Morning, Katerine." Rönne greeted her as he made his way to the mirror, taking his toothbrush. He could hear her scowl before Aikaterine moved the curtain a bit, to let her head peek out to show him her disapproval.
"For the love of Allah, did anyone teach you to knock?!"
"No, I really like creeping up on unsuspecting naked ladies." Rönne smirked bluntly before beginning to clean his teeth.
6) "Είσαι μαλάκας" Aikaterine cursed with a quiet laugh, making the cowboy shrug playfully as if he agreed with her.
Rönne then spits out the paste before addressing it again. "But in all seriousness, I'm sorry for not knocking. I'm rushing myself as I promised my friend to help him out in the next hour."
"You mean the one with the funny hat...the French man?"
"Yeah, him..." Rönne then splashed water at his face, cleaning it. In the meantime, Aikaterine turned off the shower and left the tub. His brother-in-arms washed his face more slowly so she could wrap herself in a towel.
"I'm done." She called out, causing the cowboy Exorcist to uncover his face. There was a slight pause between them as she started drying her hair with the towel before she finally added more. "You actually never told me about your friend. What's your deal with him, anyway?"
"He is just an old friend of mine:" He turned around to face her, relaxing against the sink. "Recently, he sent me a message, offering an idea that might help me out with the whole "recruitment problem."
"How come a "citizen" can meddle in our affairs?" She asked him sincerely, not intending to offend him.
"He can't. That's why he needs my "blessing", I presume." He replied, shrugging. Aikaterine didn't answer at that point. Again, there was a pause before he finally decided to confront her. "Something tells me you don't trust him."
"It's not that I don't trust him. It's just that I hardly doubt a citizen of Heaven could help us with our problems, Knight-Brother."
"Still, it's better to hear him out, don't you think? He has a better understanding of how the common people feel about the Exorcists. Besides, he is a great friend. You will like his personality."
"Is that a hint of an offer, I hear?" She playfully confronted him.
"You're welcome to join me if you want. I presume you don't have any plans for Christmas in the first place, right?"
"Yeah, I don't have any; that's true...Very well, then. I will join you."
"Good, I'll wait for you outside."
The Exorcist then proceeded to leave the bathroom, but not before he heard her voice again.
"Hey, what happened with your "I really like creeping up on unsuspecting naked ladies."?"
"Dumped into a trash bin and set it on fire, my lady." The cowboy replied sarcastically as he took his belt and hat to put them on. He then flicked his hat at her, to at least end it on a charming note before leaving her alone.
Aikaterine sighed at herself. It's a shame he didn't realize she was just flirting with him. But it's still rather charming to hear that "Noble Prussian/Texan" voice from him.
*Nearly A Hour Later*
With the arrival of Christmas, Heaven literally changed its mood. Gone are the mundane streets of Empyrean City, replaced with ones full of joy and Christmas Spirit. The Elder Council also provides a week-off for everyone, including the Heavenly Choir. As such, the two exorcists, after leaving the main transit hub, saw a lot of Cherubs and their exorcist colleagues outside their jobs, celebrating.
They took a slow walk rather than fly to their destination. Aikaterine insisted that there was no reason for a rush, preferring to enjoy Christmas, despite being a Muslim.
"Don't you find it a rather unique change?" She whispered to him. "No murdering demons, no training, no thoughts of purges. Just you and me and this entire paradise... "
"Sounds romantic, I guess" Rönne admitted as he walked near her, his spurs making an enjoyable and iconic jingle.
"Do you find it romantic?" She asked him in slight surprise.
"Well, as you said, given that our job is to murder and slaughter demons, it's nice to have these moments every now and then... reminds me of a heroic knight story..."
"Ah! Like in that Great Knight Siegfried Story, you told me once?!"
"Not quite...Siegried was murdered in the end, though." He awkwardly pointed this out, causing Aikaterine to make a sad moan of disappointment at hearing this. "I know...rather anti-climatic."
The cowboy then stopped in front of the Skyscraper...or rather, the apartment block, as it's called. He gestured for her to follow him inside this building. Inside, they took the elevator, as these skyscrapers can reach up to 500 floors, stopping at the 311th floor.
Leaving, they proceeded through the small corridor a bit before they stopped at the specific door with the number 1888 on it.
"Let me do the greeting. I’ll introduce you to them." He explained it to her before the cowboy rang a bell once and patiently waited. Meanwhile, Aikaterine whistled Ceddin Deden to herself, primarily to kill boredom while they waited. It wouldn't be long when Cowboy heard the heels inside and quickly fixed his posture, elbowing Aikaterine to stop bolstering her Turkish nationalism.
The door slid open, and a woman, dressed in an early 1910s dress and a fancy necklace, was leaving to greet the guest. She is French-Haitian, but she lived in late-nineteenth-century Louisiana with her husband from the French Third Republic.
"Ah, Monsieur Rönne! Quite a time since you visited us!"
"It's an honor to see you again, Frau LeBlanc!" Rönne gave a nod of respect, before gesturing at his fellow Exorcist. "Aikaterine, this is Frau Nadège LeBlanc. Nadège, this Aikaterine Begun: My Sister-in-arms."
"Pleasure, mon-chère." Nadège offered her hand, which Aikaterine took and shook.
7) "Sana da" She smiled back at her, letting go of her hand.
"Are you both hungry by any chance? I'm cooking Jambalaya for my husband and I could-."
"Thank you, but we are actually here for your husband. He said that he has an idea for us."
"Ah, I see..." Nadège sighed. "That explains why he has been a bit...excited recently."
"And excited I'am, Mon-chère!"
"Because me and my boy Rönne are going to make heaven a better place!"
Mrs. LeBlanc chuckled at herself, never getting tired of her husband's cheerful nature. She did move a bit for the two exorcists to see the person they wanted in the first place.
Nadège's husband has combed, dark brown hair and a bushy mustache on his top lip. Regarding clothing, he is in the usual black tuxedo with a red vest underneath, elegant red pants with a red neckerchief, stylish shoes, a pair of white gloves, and a crimson top hat.
"Jolly good to see you again, old friend! Ha-HA, I was worried you would forget your old partner in crime!"
Rönne chuckled himself, eh, quite a character; he is: a flamboyant and sharp-tongued gentleman who is cordial towards just about everybody. But there is no one else he would rather have than him.
"How could I forget you, Mr. Hazbin?"
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) Geh einen Schwanz essen, Ritter-Bruder! - "Go eat a dick, knight-brother!" (German)
2) Ohayō gozaimasu - Good Morning (Japanese)
3) Tenshi - Angel/Messenger (Japanese)
4) Jikai made - Until Next Time (Japanese)
5) Ihnen auch - You Too (German)
6) Είσαι μαλάκας - You're an Asshole (Greek)
7) Sana da - To you as well (Turkish)
8) Mon-chère - My Dear (French)
Chapter 11: Just Another Day In Paradise With Mr. Hazbin...
Summary:
"A Gentleman is never fully dressed without a smile!" - Mr. Hazbin's Motto
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (6 days before the Extermination\2 hours before Lucifer's Arrival), 02:31 AM.
Lower Heaven/The Empyrean City.
It was hard to define what drove any exorcist to not give up fighting against Hell, as it was explicitly stated that their fight was eternal, and thus, sooner or later, they would eventually perish if they made one fatal slip.
Of course, Rönne would have lied to himself if nearly all exorcists didn't believe in the "Thou shalt not allow a demon to live" or "Rip and Tear Until It's Done" mentality. But seeing Mr. Hazbin now reminded the Gunslinger of why he fought to this day—so that his friend and his wife could enjoy paradise forever, not fearing the Devil Himself knocking down Heaven's Gates any time soon.
"My boy, you appear to be in good shape! Even now, the spirit of "Western Spaghetti" fits you wonderfully!" Mr. Hazbin chimed in, leading Nadège to grin and softly roll her eyes.
"What am I supposed to say? I'll never be able to let go of my origins." With a small shrug of his shoulders, Rönne laughed. He then turned his attention to his silent sister. "Herr Hazbin, this is Aikaterine, my sister in arms."
"Ah! A beautiful Valkyrie has been given to defend my friend in desperate need! What a jolly good show!" Mr.Hazbin made a single clap and clasped his hands together.
"I hear you're quite a charmer...Mr.Hazbin, right?" In the last portion, Aikaterine used a perplexing tone. As if questioning him about having a weird "Mr.Hazbin" nickname.
"That really isn't his name, Aikaterine. To put it bluntly. He-"
"Monsieur Darnell LeBlanc of Hazbin Emporium, at your disposal!" Mr. Hazbin quickly intercepted Rönne's attempts to explain. He then removed his cylinder hat, bowing respectfully, before putting it back. "It's a pleasure every time to serve my clients!"
"Why the Hazbin?" She added.
"Ah! That doll is a tale to tell!" Mr. Hazbin added weight to his story by raising his index finger. "But to simplify, and I won't want to waste your time, it's a pun on "Has Been Here," because I used to be a traveling merchant. Selling my wares to the lovely people of Louisiana and never staying in one place."
"Or to put it another way..." Mr.Hazbin was then eyed by Rönne, who tilted his head with a grin, as if confronting him. "A Conman."
"Conman?!" Mr. Hazbin made a phony exclamation. "Quite the contrary, my dear boy! A traveling merchant like me always must wear a smile on his face, for he is never fully dressed without one!"
"Of course..." Rönne sighed. He didn't buy Mr. Hazbin's words at all. He was pretty good at twisting his words in his favor.
Nädege gently tapped her husband, who returned her glance, as she implied, without saying anything, that it was a little out of character for his demeanor.
"I say, how impolite of me to make you stand. Come in, COME IN, you two!" Mr. Hazbin then stepped back, bowing like a servant and motioning for them to enter freely.
"Heh, you're too kind. Both of you..." Aikaterine gave them a nod, and Rönne flicked his hat for them, not saying anything out of respect for the LeBlancs. They walked into the apartment, with Nadège closing the door behind them.
Mr. Hazbin led his guests into the living room, motioning for them to take a seat on a vintage couch from the 1910s. In fact, most of Leblanc's furniture and style date from the 1910s and 1920s, making Rönne feel right at home. Since Akaterine was born in the 1850s, it feels a little modern...and too Western European to her.
"Could I at least make you some tea?" Nadège suggested.
"Sure...thank you, 1) Frau LeBlanc," The cowboy smiled and nodded.
Nädege then walked into the kitchen and returned with a kettle and two cups. She poured the tea into these two cups and placed them on the coffee table.
"It's a little hot." She warned before returning to her regular cooking and "tasking" Mr.Hazbin to entertain their guests. But, for now, Mr. Hazbin gave them time to enjoy the tea, while he just stood there and smiled as he watched them try it.
"So, my dear boy. What are the exciting tales of a knight?"
"Funnily enough..." Rönne cleared his throat, feeling the savory taste of the tea. "The punchline is that there is none. I'm mostly teaching squires range weaponry now."
"Oh, you don't tell me." Aikaterine, who, unlike Rönne, struggled to drink the tea. It's nothing like Ottoman tea. "I make sure our squires don't blow themselves up."
"Good then! I actually had a talk with Aclima not that long ago. A charming guy, despite what the Bible says about him. But apparently the veterans are no longer participating in purges, right?"
"More or less. Some veterans participate in the lower rings; others are now trainers." Rönne explained, before confronting Mr. Hazbin about his intentions. "Why do you ask?"
"Weeell..." Mr. Hazbin makes a roll of his eyes to the left, wiggling his head in mischief. "It so happens that Aclima mentioned that you're lacking new recruits for this year. And I offered some sort of "sponsoring" offer...if you catch my manners."
Rönne finally finished his cup and laid it down, taking a sigh before addressing it directly. "Ok, what is it this time, Herr Hazbin?"
"I'm glad you asked!" The Frenchman flicked his fingers, rising from the couch. "Because you're going to drop your halo upon seeing it!"
Mr. Hazbin dashed them into another room without further explanation. The two exorcists could hear him beginning to look for something. Aikaterine, on the other hand, had her fill of tea.
"Could you take it? This tea is disgusting." She grumbled quietly as she offered her cup to her fellow exorcist.
"What, you've never had European tea before?" With a grin on his face, he accepted her cup and finished it himself.
"Oh, please. The best tea in Europe is Turkish tea."
"Sure…said the Turkish-born woman.” The gunslinger chuckled before he drank her cup. Aikaterine only scowled and waved him off, refusing to go that way.
"AHA, FOUND IT!" They heard Mr. Hazbin's voice before the sounds of his elegant boots' footsteps started to get closer. Rönne quickly drank Kate's tea and laid on the coffee table, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat because he didn't want to disappoint LeBlanc.
Mr. Hazbin would then return at a fast pace, with a blue box in his hands, and lay it on the coffee table. The Frenchman then straightened his back to announce to them his finest idea. "Now hold onto your buttocks and be amazed by one of my latest products here in the Hazbin Emporium. May I present this!"
Opening the box, the smiley merchant gestured for Rönne to take a peek before he proudly brought his hands behind his back, waiting for the verdict. The gunslinger did stand up to glance up and -
What?
Rönne then returned his glance back at Mr.Hazbin, whose smile brightened, eager to hear it. The Gunslinger then returned his glance back at the box's content before again looking at the French Merchant, this time with an expression of "are you serious?"
"What?" Aikaterine asked, wondering what caused Rönne to be like this. To provide the answer, the gunslinger showed his hand inside a box before revealing a Exorcist plush toy
Aikaterine was astounded by the reveal, and she was flattered that someone had made an Exorcist plush toy. It has that creepy smile and a spear sewn to its arm. But it's ridiculously adorable. The gunslinger, on the other hand, was not amused.
"Seriously? Selling toys of angels that murder demons?" He said it sincerely as handed the toy to Aikaterine, who could inspect it for herself. Rönne wasn't angry but he didn't understand his intentions.
"Well, why not!" Mr.Hazbin raised his hands, not sure what else to say. "Children sure do love the sight of an Exorcist. Besides, they don't really care about the details! It's just a plush toy of Exorcist, it doesn't even do anything wrong, unlike you from one perspective."
"Thanks, I guess..." Rönne shrugged, not exactly sure if it was an insult or a compliment. "And how did you get them?"
"The usual method: some talks there, some agreements here. In the end, I'm now the proud owner of these plushies...until the 1st of January, that is."
"And how exactly am I involved in this?"
"Good question: you, my friend, are my companion!" Mr. Hazbin tapped his fingers against Rönne's vest at the end.
"A what?" In confusion, Rönne repeated himself. Aikaterine, behind him, fist bumped her little plush sister, mimicking the explosion with her fingers.
"Ah, but I didn't tell you the full details of how I would sell them. After all, plushies are just distractions, Mon Ami. What I'm truly selling is an interest in the Exorcist Order. Your Grandmaster Aclima tasked me with setting up a shooting gallery that is called: "Cleanse the Sinners" in Eden's Paradise. Plushies are just a reward for participating."
"So you are essentially advertising us?" Aikaterine added.
"Correct, my Valkyrie! It's simple and honest work! All that I ask is your time and willingness to spend it with me!"
With a nod of understanding, Rönne glanced at Aikaterine for her opinion. She did wiggle the plush toy around him, admitting that it was adorable and that she was okay with the idea. The gunslinger then rubbed his face, thinking it over before finally delivering its outcome.
"Well, you exist only once, so why the heavens not?"
"A Jolly Good Show!" Mr. Hazbin clapped his hands excitedly. "I knew you would agree! Meet me in the back alley. I'm going to prepare some things."
"But-" The gunslinger wanted to object. But it was too late, as Mr. Hazbin rushed out the door, carrying his cane and giving Nädege a flattering wave as he went.
"Goddammit." Rönne sighed, before grabbing the box and turning his attention to Aikaterine. The Turkish woman abruptly stopped playing with the toy before asking for his opinion.
"Do I look like her?" Aikaterine then brought the toy to her chin, putting on her best "Exorcist Smile" for Rönne to see if the toy was 100% recreation for them.
"Without your mask...nope." Rõnne then tapped his box for Aikaterine to lay the toy back, which she did. "So...quite a character he is, huh?"
"I kind of like him. It is weird how you accepted his offer no matter what. "
Rönne shrugged. "To be honest with you, I nearly would have declined. I prefer not to make the exorcists into some kind of celebrity here in Heaven." The gunslinger then sighed. "But I owe a lot to Mr. Hazbin. If not for him, I would not have been in the same position as I'm in now."
Behind him, Nädege gently entered the room, knocking against the frame to get their attention. "Between you and me, Monsieur Schaffer. He accepted this idea only because it could have benefited you as well. It's his way of thanking you for everything you have done for him."
The gunslinger chuckled at that. His excuses were now officially crushed. "Then it makes more sense to help him. With me, Aikaterine?"
The Turkish Exorcist raised herself from the couch without saying a word. They, along with Nädege, returned to the entry hall. Miss LeBlanc did give them a hug in thanks for coming and helping her husband out.
Before waving them goodbye and closing the door, Miss LeBlanc did give them a hug in thanks for coming and helping her husband out.
They left the huge skyscraper and went into a back alley. There was a decent parking lot with a diverse selection of cars, ranging from flying speeders to early 20th century vintage cars. Barely taking a step in the parking lot, Rönne nearly dropped the box when he heard that *Aooora* horn sound. He swore to God that cars were the most useless invention on Earth. Horses were 10 times better at transportation than these loud machines.
"OVER HERE, MY FRIENDS! PUT THE BOX ON THE BACK!" Mr. Hazbin's voice was emitted from the far left corner of the parking lot... and he signaled his car horn again two times, just in case.
Both exorcists followed the beeping sound until they stumbled upon Mr. Hazbin, who was already sitting inside a Volvo LV71-Series truck with its engines turned on. Rönne walked to the back of the truck and placed the box, closing the hatch before joining Akaterine in the passenger seat.
"Next stop, Eden's Paradise!" Mr. Hazbin proclaimed, shifting the gear stick to 1, and starting to maneuver the truck out of the parking space. Leaving the parking lot, he turned the truck to the left before straightening it and finishing the maneuver.
"How far is the park?" Aikaterine asked them.
"Just 20 minutes, dear Valkyrie!" Mr. Hazbin exclaimed with a smile before lowering his voice down. “It would have been 40 minutes if I didn't know this sector like the back of my five fingers."
"Well, I don't doubt that..." Rönne released a breath, resting his head against the seat's pillow. "Must have been doing a lot of deals for nearly a century being here, huh?"
"Ah, I wish it were true!" Mr. Hazbin chuckled. “But I have been busy with pretty mundane activities: walking in the park with Nädege, therapy sessions, and selling my merchandise.
"And how is your therapy, by the way?" He continued. Aikaterine glanced at her fellow exorcist, asking him what he meant by it with her expression. Rönne only showed her a palm, preferring not to push it on his friend.
"Eh, it's hard, but I'm handling it. To be honest, without the Lady of Mercy's support, I would have quit it long ago." Mr. Hazbin replied with a sigh, still holding onto his cheerful smile.
"Stay strong, Mr. Hazbin...for your wife...and for your son."
"Ha-HA, you know me: I always walk the obstacle with a smile on!" Mr. Hazbin needed to make a positive comeback, despite nearly dropping his smile when he mentioned his son... but then he decided to immediately change the topic. "I say, how about some music!"
The Frenchman reached for the radio to turn it on...
*Darude Sandstorm starts to play*
"I SAY!" Mr. Hazbin cursed, due to how suddenly loud the music was. He nearly lost control of his truck before managing to regain it. He immediately lowered the volume down and switched to something less...bombastic.
*Django Reinhardt - Minor Swing*
"Ah, much better!" Mr. Hazbin said to himself, starting to tap his fingers against the wheel to the tune of the old song. He tried to awkwardly ignore the glance of the Cowboy Exorcist, who was rather amused by it.
"What was that!?" He complainingly asked. Mr. Hazbin looked at him for a split second before returning to the road, still in awkward silence. He then finally decided to speak.
"Tried to taste modern culture before..." Mr. Hazbin whispered, before remaining silent again.
"It made a wonder out of you." Rönne sighed, going silent as well.
For the rest of their trip, Mr. Hazbin didn't cause any "accidents" and safely managed to drive them to "Eden's Paradise" Amusement Park. He parked his truck in the parking lot, where two goat-like cherubs were assisting with carrying the park's goods to their stalls. One of them was free and flew to Mr. Hazbin, who was getting out of the truck.
"Hello, are you ahh..." Cherub then summoned his report to check the name. "Mr. Hazbin?"
"The One and the only!" He made a gentleman bow to the Cherub, "At your service!"
The Cherub then summoned a pen to write it down on his report. As he was writing, his eyes caught on two exorcists, whom he immediately swallowed in nervousness. "A-are they with you?"
"Yes, is there a problem?" Rönne confronted the Cherub back, with Aikaterine also crossing her arms.
"Oh, not at all. We are always welcome to see the Angels of Death...hehe." The Cherub chuckled nervously before returning his attention to the French Winner. "Your stall is located on the central pathway of the amusement park. Follow me if you will."
Mr. Hazbin again made a dramatic bow. When the Cherub flew a bit away, he then turned around for a favor. "Rönne, could you help our fellow Cherub friends? Me and Aikaterine will find you later."
"Sure, no problem." Rönne nodded.
With that, Mr. Hazbin and Aikaterine went to the Eden's Paradise Entrance while The Gunslinger paid attention to the boxes. Another two cherubs, probably workers at the amusement park, also flew to assist him.
At first glance, everything seemed okay. The Cherubs laid the boxes on the forklift, with Rönne handing them out from the truck's cargo space. But soon, this mundane activity started to turn into hostility. In a few moments, these cherubs started to scowl at the Exorcist, even insulting him quietly about his job.
The Gunslinger remained silent on that, "turned the other cheek" so to speak. Due to their nature of being "perfectly good", Cherubs see exorcists as "abominations" who do "The Devil's Work" and tarnish the Lord's Name. In fact, a very vocal minority of Cherubs did call for the disbanding of the Exorcist Order and the banishing of its members to Hell.
Grandmaster Aclima challenged them back once, by offering them to replace the exorcists to become a new solution to the "Hell" problem. It immediately turned into an excuse that Cherubs are not responsible for keeping Hell at bay. which, in turn, ended in strengthening the exorcist's position.
Thankfully, it didn't last that long as Aikaterine came back. Rönne and his "fellow" Cherubs are nearly done with unloading.
"Come, Mr. Hazbin set up everything."
With the final box on the forklift, The Gunslinger jumped out of the truck, following Aikaterine to Eden's Paradise. As it was a bit early, many stalls were still closed, while some were getting ready to be prepared. But the crowd had already gathered, thanks to the Christmas celebration.
"You're a bit sore." Aikaterine commented.
"Ah, the usual "Cherub" hospitality, I experienced. Nothing new."
"With the classic "You're evil" argument, I presume?" Aikaterine suggested, but she knew the answer. And it was solidified further when the gunslinger answered with a smile, entering the amusement park.
Not surprisingly, some of their fellow Brothers and Sisters of the Exorcist Order are also here. Rönne and Aikaterine saluted each passerby. But the saluting was nothing compared to when they arrived at Mr. Hazbin's stall, and Rönne noticed an unexpected visitor.
The Grandmaster himself.
Grandmaster Aclima was a tall woman in her late 20's. She wore a decorated exorcist uniform with a cape on it. As she was talking with Mr. Hazbin, she noticed her soldiers and immediately turned around to greet them.
"Knight-Brother Rönne Schaffer. I should have known where Knight-Sister Lieutenant Aikaterine was. You're also with her."
"Grandmaster, it's an honor." Rönne came closer and shook Aclima's hand. "Surprised to see you here as well."
"Don't think I've spent my entire existence ensuring our order works, Knight," Aclima smirked at her soldier. "In any case, I heard that you teamed up with our friend over here to promote our cause?"
Rönne glanced at Mr. Hazbin, who showed his thumbs up as a sign to "improvise". But the gunslinger preferred to be honest with his superior.
"No, Grandmaster." Rönne proclaimed it stoically. Mr. Hazbin threw his arms in the air after hearing this. "Mr. Hazbin is the one who is responsible for all of this. I decided to help after he pretty much did everything for himself."
Aclima would turn back to Mr. Hazbin, glancing at the Citizen of Heaven, who was quietly tapping his cane against the floor. She hummed at that before returning her attention back to Rönne Schaffer. "Interesting. You show loyalty and devotion to your friend, My Knight."
"Then forgive me, Grandmaster. I devote myself to everyone: my friends, brothers, and sisters in the order. If you feel that I don't show enough devotion to our cause, then I humbly apologize for this mistake."
"No one has greater love than this, my knight: that someone lay down his life for his friends. Even if Archangel Azrael or Grandmarshal Lute don't see that in you, I myself have seen that devotion in you since the day you joined us. You're ready to die so that the rest of heaven can sleep peacefully. For that, you are a noble knight."
"Thank you for the kind words, Grandmaster." Rönne made a bow to Aclima. "But I don't want to paint myself in a bright light. Back then, I joined to satisfy my bloodlust for demons...like the rest of my brothers and sisters."
"Weren't we all?" Aclima asked him that sincerely. "Don't forget we are at war with Hell, Knight. We fight the long war, not through vain notions of duty and honour, but through hatred as well. At the height of our time, we were betrayed by our angels: Helel, Satanael, Asmodel, Leviel, Mammonel, Camael, Yophiel - these are names that Heaven curses. Then what Hell did to us in 1920 is despicable: The destruction of Limbo. Then there were two mortal world wars just to screw with Heaven. It's up to exorcists like us to not let that war reach Earth...I could not even describe what happens next."
"We know what's at stake, Grandmaster. But we won't fail Allah. For we are angels of death, and we shall know no fear!" Aikaterine added, giving a salute to the first victim of murder. Rönne also saluted as a way of agreeing with Aikaterine's words.
"Outstanding, My Knights." The Grandmaster did give a nod. "But keep that hatred for the next Purge. Until then, have a Merry Christmas, you two."
And with that, Aclima left them alone, with the two Exorcists observing how Aclima was disappearing from their sight. Mr. Hazbin in the meantime would gently come up.
"Quite a charming boss, eh?" Mr. Hazbin nudged his friend.
"I guess..." Rönne shrugged before gesturing to this stall. "So, how does it work?"
"Just like any shooting gallery, mon Ami !" Mr. Hazbin then rushed to the stall to hand him a rifle replica of The Exorcist's Bolter. "As my dearest partner in crime, the first round goes to you."
"I should have made Aclima see that... but okay." Rönne chuckled. He still accepted the rifle and moved his position to be prepared. In the meantime, Mr. Hazbin walked up to where the button was.
"Ready? Give me the best!" He pushed the button.
With the timer on, the targets appeared immediately...and they are cartoony depictions of imps in weird and silly poses.
"Wait, what?! "Rönne questioned the decision of art style, nearly wheezing out too.
"TIME, MY BOY!" Mr. Hazbin tapped his watch.
"Oh, right!" Rönne, without a delay, fired his rifle. Neither Aikaterine nor Mr. Hazbin doubted that the teacher in ranged weaponry would miss the targets. In the end, he scored 28 out of 30 points, losing 2 points due to the little startle at the start.
"WHAT A JOLLY GOOD SHOW!" Mr. Hazbin cheered upon seeing the results.
"Could have missed some to make me feel better." Aikaterine chuckled, still proud of his brother-in-arms.
"You should have seen me in Mortal Times, Kate. I couldn't hit shit back then." Rönne boasted, laying the rifle back on the stand.
"And for this great performance, you earned yourself a plush toy. Merry Christmas, my dear friend!" Mr. Hazbin took one of the Exorcist plushy toys and offered it to his friend.
"Danke, mein Freund." Despite having already held it before, he still accepted the toy for himself.
"My dear Valkyrie, how about you?!"
"Nah, I'm fine." Aikaterine insisted.
"Well, holla me if you change your mind. Thank you both for everything!"
"You're welcome, anytime." Rönne gave him a wave as a sign of good luck. He then joined Aikaterine, who found a picnic table, very close to Mr. Hazbin's stall. He took a seat on the opposite side of her.
"Well, that's an unusual experience." She commented.
"Yeah, the more you spend time with him. The more it gets weird." He glanced back at Mr. Hazbin again, where some Winners had come to check out the stall out. "I wouldn't trade it for anything else."
"How did you meet him, exactly?"
Rönne lowered his eyes, before taking a deep sigh. "I would like to tell you, Kate. Really. But I would rather bury that past of mine. It's hard for me...you know"
Aikateirine, despite being a bit disappointed, still gave a nod of understatement. She then raised herself, offering her hand to him. "No pressure, how about we check out the other stalls, partner?"
The Gunslinger smiled at her "Cowboy Talk" attempt before grabbing her hand and raising himself.
"Then let's go, partner."
*Nearly 2 Hours Later*
At this point, the amusement park was in its full glory. All the stalls provided services, including Mr. Hazbin's. Needless to say, the Christmas celebration finally arrived.
The two exorcists spent their time, checking out what the amusement park offered. In the end, though, they stumbled upon a familiar Cherub who was also on "vacation" from the C.H.E.R.U.B. organization. Since this one didn’t have any hatred for the Exorcists, they welcomed him to join them.
And now Aikaterine is tormenting him.
"Come on, Collin! It's just Middle Eastern food!" Aikaterine grumbled.
"B-b-but it's made of meat..." Collin spoke softly, still nervous. At the moment, they are sitting near the fast-food stall, which sells Middle Eastern cuisine to customers. Rönne and Aikaterine had finished their kebabs, but Collin, their fellow Cherub, struggled to even put one in his mouth.
"So?" Aikaterine wanted more reasons than just being made of meat. "We are in the afterlife! This is not even real meat from a living animal soul!"
"Plus, if you believe that eating meat is against the Lord's command. Then I'm a walking-talking Devil's Machine." The German Exorcist added to Aikaterine's argument.
"Please refrain from mentioning this name here, Sir Schaffer." Colin gently asked him not to do it.
"Regardless, Collin. If you commit a sin by eating meat, we will send you down to Purgatory. Might as well say hi to Abbadon."
"The Exorcist's honor." Aikaterine assured Collin, finishing with a smirk on her face.
Barely gaining confidence, Collin again looked down at the kebab for at least ten seconds. In the end, he muttered forgiveness to God before grabbing it. As he moved it closer to his mouth, he rebuked Satan's name as many times as possible...
*Bite*
The blue lamb opened his eyes and looked at them, making at least two chewing movements before swallowing.
"It's...surprisingly good." Collin commented on it weirdly.
"Told you!" Aikaterine proudly exclaimed. Glad that even the heaven-born creature enjoyed mortal food.
"See? And you weren't banished for it." Rönne then chuckled, finding it funny that the Cherub had to rebuke Satan's name in order to eat. "Heavens, I doubt the Devil himself would even bat an eye on it...not to mention how it's impossible for him to enter here."
"I do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul, Sir Knight. But I would rather fear him, who can destroy both my soul and body." Colin quoted them quietly. Aikaterine glanced at Rönne, her expression turned into a worry. It seems like even in Heaven, the Devil was a boogeyman.
"Come on, Collin." Rönne nudged his cherub friend. "Your kind always said to us, "Do not be afraid." Furthermore, the chances of you being banished from Heaven are impossible. So you don't have to fear the Devil coming after you."
Collin at first, didn't respond to that. But after reconsidering their words, he managed to make himself feel better. "Y-y-you're right! All that matters is that we need to shower mortals with God's love!"
"There you go!" Aikaterine clapped her hands once, and she also made an air-smooch sound at Rönne for handling it pretty well. The Gunslinger chuckled at that before opting to go easy on Cherub, unlike his fellow Exorcist.
"So, anything interesting happening on C.H.E.R.U.B?"
"Oh, the usual paperwork and reporting to the Cherubims. If you saw our ad, it's pretty much my entire weekend. Keenie and Cletus are mostly active on Earth..." Collin casually said with a chuckle. He then took a defeating sigh, surprising the two knights.
"Burned out?" Aikaterine titled her head.
"...I'm sorry?" Collin repeated this in confusion.
"Burned out: a human metaphor for being tired."
"Oh! No, not at all. Is it just..." Collin then again released a breath. "You saw our ad, right? Remember there was a moment where we confronted a victim of a car crash?"
"With a blue shirt?"
The Blue/purple Lamb nods to them before explaining. "He got into a car accident again yesterday. What's even weirder is that we were told not to assist him, despite the fact that there was a chance to save him. He died bleeding out. And now he is in Purgatory, waiting for his judgment."
"Poor guy...but why didn't the Cherubs assist him?"
"Something about priorities and not having enough cherubs to do these tasks. It was pretty...vague."
"So I can see Heaven's bureaucratic machine broke down that day..." Rönne sarcastically chuckled at himself, only to nevertheless admit the harsh truth. "I can't blame you. In the Exorcist Order, we do not have enough manpower to handle the lower Rings of Hell more often than we would like to."
"I thought you were mostly focusing on Pride?"
"Mostly, but not always." Rönne didn't elaborate further. He then let out his pocket watch to check Mortal Time, before closing it and grabbing his milkshake. "Well, as much as it was fun to hang around. I'm going to check on Mr. Hazbin. See you back at the Academy, Aikaterine. And thanks for hanging around with us, Collin."
"You too." Aikaterine and Collin waved their hands. When the gunslinger left, Aikaterine turned her attention to Cherub. "So Collin, how about some positivity. Do you want to play volleyball with Justinian the Great?"
"Volleyball?!" Collin exclaimed in excitement. "Oh, I love volleyball! With pleasure!"
"Then why are we sitting!"
Without any delay, they raised themselves from their seats, rushing to join the next volleyball round with the Byzantine Emperor. In the meantime, the gunslinger would return to Mr. Hazbin. Judging by how the shelves were nearly empty, Mr. Hazbin is doing great with selling his toys.
"Merry Christmas!" Mr. Hazbin handed the toy to the client, patting their shoulder before waving them goodbye. After that, he noticed his friend had returned. "Ah, my dear friend. What a time I have!"
"I can see the business is doing pretty well." Rönne said as he came closer, relaxing against the stall's wall, taking a sip of his cup.
"Aha, I know right! I say, I say, that's got to be the greatest ever idea to sell plush toys!" Mr. Hazbin then flicked his fingers, forgetting a minor thing. "Oh, I need to add some paintballs for the gun! Could you guard this place?"
The gunslinger did give a thumbs up that he would do it. With that, Mr. Hazbin would disappear to the stall's backdoor to find what he needed.
At least 3 minutes passed before The Gunslinger noticed the next pair of customers walking gently to the stall: an Exorcist and a little heaven-born girl.
"There, there, daddy! This is the place!" The little one jumped excitedly. Smiling down at the little girl, the Exorcist would come closer to the Rönne to calmly ask.
"Um, Hello brother. Is this the stall that sells the toys for us?"
"Sure." Rönne nodded, knocking against the wall for Mr.Hazbin to come. "To have the plush toy, you must play the game."
"Oh, I see." The Exorcist said as he glanced at the stall before glancing down at his daughter. "Sure, you want this, Amy?"
"Of course, daddy! I want the Exorcist plush toy to remember you!" The little girl replied with all the energy in her musical voice.
"My pumpkin, why do you need the plush toy when your daddy is the big version of it?"
"But..." The little angel girl gave a relatively worried look at her dad. "But I barely see you. You are either busy training, and Mom said you won't be at the New Year's party, or you might never come back if something bad happens to you."
Rönne sighed, he himself never imagined having kids in Heaven. Now he felt pity for his brother being a warrior and murderer...and a father.
"Sweetheart," The Exorcist cooed, crouching down. But his voice, unfortunately, showed his nervousness. "I will come back, I promise. It's only just...I will be working on January 1st... nothing serious, really." He ended up stroking his little daughter's halo, who giggled at her dad.
"Surely it won't hurt to try to, 2) Mon Ami!" Mr. Hazbin appeared from the back door, smiling at them before attaching paintballs to the gun. "My friend over here scored 28 of 30 sinners. You need just twenty hits for the toy."
"You flatter me, Mr. Hazbin." Rönne held his cup in the air.
"Nonsense, my dear Rönne!" Mr. Hazbin raised his hands in a dramatic gesture to give power to his words. "One must admit other skills to know him closely. Make it easier to see your "client" clearer."
"And that's why I don't buy your potions, 3) Trickbetrüger" Rönne then took a sip of his cup.
"Would it hurt to try, though?" Mr. Hazbin grinned, carefully adjusting his monocle to not fall off.
4) "Einem Franzosen kann man nie trauen." Rönne chuckled before he turned his attention to his colleague. "But he's got a point, though, Knight-Brother. Try it. It's easier than it looks."
"But...I'm not specialized in ranged weaponry." The fellow exorcist said.
"You use bow though, richtig ? It's the same as with a standard rifle. Just aim, pull the trigger, and wolla! Another evildoer is dead! Advice from a Fellow Exorcist Sharpshooter." Rönne shrugged at the negative response of his fellow brother in arms.
Still unconvinced by it, the Exorcist stared at the stall for a few breathless seconds before his beloved daughter tugged gently on his uniform. At that point, he gently released a shallow breath in crushing defeat. "Alright, fine."
"Yay!" Amy jumped on her nimble feet, clapping her hands.
The Exorcist came forward and gripped the fake rifle. Mr. Hazbin prepared himself to eagerly push the button and extended his hand to signal.
"Ready, my boy? Annnd NOW!" He pushed the button.
The Exterminator at first performed well from Rönne perspective. He managed to achieve ten targets every two seconds. However, on eleven, the targets began to move left and right, up, and down to harden for him. This time, he didn't perform well. The gunslinger can't really blame him. Moving targets are the worst when it comes to taking a shot.
"Stop!" Mr. Hazbin exclaimed. He then momentarily checked the score. "17 of 30! Rather good! Your prize isssss... a Pencil!"
Mr. Hazbin, despite promptly announcing it with all the genuine enthusiasm in his voice, instantly dropped his smile. Even he didn't enjoy how the innocent girl got so disappointed, to the point that Little Angel began to sniff as well. Even the exorcist, disappointingly, accepted the pencil.
"Aw, don't worry. You can purchase the plush toy in the shop, sweetie-belle. Just twenty tickets, and that plushie toy will be in your adorable little hands." Mr. Hazbin assured them wholeheartedly.
"20 games around the theme park, he means, brother." Rönne corrected. It made his fellow exorcist's mouth open in shock. 20 games just for the toy!?
"Good jolly, Rönne! At least take piety, will ya?" The vendor complained to his partner.
"Lying is a deadly sin. I'm merely stating the facts." The Gunslinger pointed out, making Mr. Hazbin raise his hands in disbelief.
The Exorcist awkwardly scratched his neck as it was about to rain down on him. But he still glared at his daughter before speaking. "Sorry pumpkin. I need to be reported to the academy by the next hour. Maybe next year I will get you the plushy."
"Daddy!" Little Angel began to tear up.
"Amy! I-"
"Ain't that beautiful!"
"To see your own daughter getting the worst Christmas ever in Heaven thanks to her stubborn father. Existence is a pathetic sight."
All of them stopped and paid attention to those behind them. Rönne raised his eyebrows. There is another exorcist who, unlike others, wore a mask for some reason, and had a strong LCD grin. must be on duty or something.
"And you're?" The Exorcist stepped forward. He urged his daughter to hide behind him.
"Doesn't matter who I am, "brother." Not only did you lie to your own daughter about our "sacred" duty, but you also didn’t fulfill her wishes. What I hate more than anything is a liar, a charlatan, or someone who doesn't believe in what they say."
"You think it's so easy for you to gain that plushie? How about you do it then if you're so akin to blaming others?" The Exorcist challenged him back.
The Mysterious Exorcist only smiled at them before he amended his glare at Mr. Hazbin. "Hey, Frenchie. Round for me!"
"How rude..." Mr. Hazbin muttered to himself before he radically changed into his typical beaming smile. "Sure thing!" He again prepared himself to push the button and extended his hand to signal. The mysterious exorcist gripped the rifle and aimed it at the targets. "NOW"
In all fairness, Rönne expected that guy to fail...but he proved him wrong. To Gunslinger's shock, the mysterious Exorcist managed to hit all targets in just...10 seconds.
"Umm...That was fast!" Mr. Hazbin bobbed his head to compose himself before he checked the score. "Let's see...30 of 30...just 15 seconds! Jolly good, you're natural!"
"I think I rightfully earned that plush toy."
"With all one hundred percent!" Mr. Hazbin instantly reached for the shelf and willingly handed him the plush toy.
The Mysterious Exorcist took it and his LCD mask produced a smile. He then would instead of keeping it, would hand it over to the little girl.
"Here you go, my darling."
The little girl gasped at such kindness. "Oh! Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU, MISTER!" She then hugged him. The Exorcist however, weakly patted her shoulder in response.
"I hope you're happy now. Come, Amy. We need to go." Father Exorcist tapped Amy's shoulder to let go of the Mysterious Stranger, before leaving them. Amy, however, waved at the stranger one last time.
Mr. Hazbin tapped his counter, observing Amy before she disappeared into the crowd. The Frenchman himself was awed by this unusual kind of generosity. And so he thought a bit further and decided to act as well.
"You know what? I will provide another plush toy to you for free, soldier. Your kindness is an example for all of us! Merry Christmas!"
“Oh…” The stranger awkwardly replied. "Well…much obliged, Merry Christmas to you, good man." The stranger gave a pleasant nod and departed from them immediately.
When the mysterious exorcist left, Rönne laid his empty cup on the stall and came closer to the Frenchman, who was in deep thought. His partner's puzzled expression is clear to the gunslinger that he is not okay.
"Why a change of heart, partner? I can see ya rather...tense."
The Frenchman looked down, taking a deep sigh before speaking. "Oh, Rönne. You know how difficult it is to live with your gruesome past. When that exterminator mentioned parents' lies to their children...it caused me to remember my own boy...He never knew who his own dad really was."
"Here you go again..." Rönne frowned at him. "1888 was a long time ago. The past is past. It doesn't define who you are, Herr Hazbin."
Silence ensued as Mr. Hasbin twisted his glare away from the cowboy's face. He knew his “Guardian Exterminator” wanted the better of him. But even after finding his redemption in Heaven, The Frenchman could never forget what he did in his “famous” early days in the Never Sun-Setting British Empire, London.
Monsieur Darnell LeBlanc or Mr.Hazbin left a legacy that to this day is still undiscovered. Many tried…many fingers were pointed at false suspects to that “infamous” night. Still, were not close enough…only Heaven truly knows who Mr.Hazbin was behind his warm smiley face of a con artist…but they forgive him. And three of five unfortunate souls forgave him…telling that as long as he is a changed person…he was forgiven.
" Je sais, cher garçon, je sais. " Mr. Hazbin gently nodded. "Sorry for the dread...I just...I miss him sometimes."
"Ja...me too." Rönne sighed; he leaned against his stall. "He was a good kid. It's a real shame that things turned out that way...without Limbo...there was no chance for him..."
“This whole situation is comical to me….” Mr. Hazbin smirked as memories of his old life flashed before him. "He barely knew me in person…yet Mon chéri and I argued frequently back in 1913 about what to do with his life. All I wanted for him was to have a good life…to be a journalist in France. Should have moved him to Old Orleans in the end...at least we would die together from the mustard gas... now we are separated by two opposite afterlives with no chance of redemption for him."
“Don’t give up, Herr Hazbin.” Rönne leaned against the counter. "My Mama used to say to me a quote that stuck in me: Rönne, nichts ist unmöglich. Denn es gibt immer Hoffnung...Die Hoffnung liegt in träumen, in der Vorstellungskraft und im Mut derer, die es Wagen, Träume in die Realität umzusetzen."
Once he ended, Mr. Hazbin smiled at his friend before he laid his hand on Gunslinger's shoulder. "Care to translate, dear boy?"
"Right...forget you don't know Deutsch.” The Cowboy chuckled. He gripped his belt to adjust the holster’s position. "But it goes something like this: Rönne, nothing is impossible. For there is always hope...Hope lies in dreams, in imagination, and in the courage of those who dare to make dreams into reality...ironically...she was right in the end for the two of us."
"Your mama is a smart woman, Rönne. Words to live by."
"Eh, they brought their knowledge from Austro-Hungary and the German Empire. The United States is nothing like Europe is...and yet they never lived long enough to see their own son become an outlaw of the dying west…barely see them even today to hide the shame." Rönne had grimaced at himself before he straightened his back. "But enough of that." The Gunslinger reached for the shelf to get two cups of milkshakes. "Let's raise our toast for the coming 2020! To a new decade!"
"Oh, I raise to that!" Mr. Hazbin accepted the cup, raising it in the air. "Toast for a New Decade, Hello 2020!"
"And let it be the best year for a new decade!"
Together, they drank from their cups. Mr. Hazbin produced a satisfying moan. "Ah, the milkshake. For this, I would have loved to experience the 1920's. Ah, so many wonderful things have happened in that decade!"
The gunslinger chuckled at the irony before explaining it. "I probably would have been in the Weimar Republic by that time...and an NSDAP supporter."
"Really?" Mr. Hazbin repeated this in disbelief. "How come?"
"When the Great War barely even started, I thought to myself, "Earn money, travel back to the Vaterland". Since my father came from Konigsberg, I had an alleged right to citizenship in the Kaiserreich. Somehow, if I survived all the way to 1918, I probably would have lived in the streets of Berlin, Munich, or whatever, blaming the Entente for Germany's economic downfall and...joined Hitler's party when he was gaining popularity.”
"And instead..." Mr. Hazbin poked Rönne's shoulder. "You met me."
"Aha, sealed my fate with the Grim Reaper." The Gunslinger chuckled, though Mr. Hazbin also shared a laugh. At this point, despite their unfortunate and fatal meeting back in 1914, they preferred to joke about it. Mr. Hazbin was fully right on this matter: always see the bright side, no matter how bad it is.
While they're reminiscing about their past. Rönne also noticed something in the far distance. "Is it just me, or is that actually an archangel?" He narrowed his eyes to better see who was behind them.
"Archangel?" Mr. Hazbin also turned around, taking a few seconds before gasping. "I say, it's her! Come, my friend. Let me present her to you."
Rönne barely reacted when Mr. Hazbin grabbed his wrist and guided him to the Archangel. The female archangel turned around as she heard someone calling for her. She smiled brightly as she recognized one of her patients.
"Darnel, so great to see you!" She called out to him.
"You as well, my lady!" Mr. Hazbin came closer, gesturing for Rönne to meet her. "My friend! This is -"
"Archangel Zadkiel: The Mercy of God." Rönne interrupted him, not needing to explain, considering what his job is. He still bowed his head to the archangel. "Your presence is an honor, Lady of Mercy."
The Archangel Zadkiel was an ashen-haired, feminine-looking angel with rosy cheeks, wearing a long, elegant, white sleeveless dress. In the Heavenly Host, she and her superior, Archangel Raphael, took on the passive role of healing Winners. She helped heal emotional wounds by comforting people and healing their painful memories.
"So does yours, Knight Rönne." The Lady of Mercy made a little bow to them.
"What brings you here, My Mercy?"
"I'm with my patient, taking her out for her to enjoy the celebration. Molly, could you come here!?" She tapped and gently brought a young woman from the crowd to greet them, while Zadkiel moved behind that woman, laying her hands on the young woman's shoulders. "Darnell, may I also present your new fellow classmate. Molly, say hi to them!"
"Hello, I’m Molly Ragnatela! Nice to meet you!" Chirped spider looking Winner with an Italian accent, waving her hands at them. She wore a double-shoulder-padded suit with sleeves that extended to the palms of her upper set of hands and striped gloves that reached the arms of her lower pair of hands.
"A pleasure, sweetie belle!" Mr. Hazbin bowed his head, raising his top hat a bit. The gunslinger used the classic "howdy" greeting with her.
"Our poor Molly has been a victim of drug abuse in her mortal life. But at long last, she is now in her last stages of recovery." Zadkiel gave Molly a little pat on the shoulder, still proud of her for recovering after so many trials and errors.
"That's great to hear! Is there any way I can help her as well?" Mr. Hazbin clapped his hands together, holding them tightly.
"Actually!" Zadkiel was glad to hear this good gesture. "We are helping Molly find a job, as Ms. Ragnatella can't exactly support her fully. If you happen to take her under your wing, I would really appreciate it."
"Of course! I'm very glad to assist her!" Mr. Hazbin then walked up closer to Molly, offering to shake his hand. "But what can you do, my effeminate sweetie-belle?"
"I can shower you with God's love, hehe!" Molly answered wholeheartedly...but also with a joke, of course.
"Hah! Yes, What a Jolly Good Show!" Mr. Hazbin laughed at it, taking her hand to shake it. He actually enjoyed her very charming and chipper voice, despite her unserious answer. "My lady, I will gladly take her as my assistant!"
"Thank you, Darnell!" Zadkiel sincerely exclaimed in a bright tone. She then hugged Molly, wishing her the best for this Christmas. "Have fun, my dearest!"
"Oh, I will!" Molly returned that warmth to her teacher before jumping her way closer to Mr. Hazbin. "So, my new friend! What type of shenanigans do you need me to do!"
"Ha-Ha! the only kind I know off: selling a plushy toy of murderers to the Children!" Mr. Hazbin then nudged Molly. "Come, my dear! Let me show you my stall!"
The two "Bright Smilers" then walked away, although they waved their hands back at the Exorcist and Archangel, leaving them alone. They too, waved them back.
"Well...that happened." Rönne commented quietly to Zadkiel before shrugging to himself. If necessary, these two could literally light up Heaven.
Zadkiel didn't reply to that, instead observing the gunslinger's behavior. She would then wrap her hand around his arm, startling the exorcist.
"Thank you for supporting Darnell, my Knight." Zadkiel warmly said.
"It's nothing, My Archangel. I'm sure he can handle it by himself."
"Yet, thanks to you. He has a reason to smile. To him, you're like his son...a distraction from the one that he deeply misses." Zadkiel explained.
Rönne dropped his smile, having to admit Lady of Mercy's words. He looked back at where Mr. Hazbin was, with a young Italian woman now handing the toys to the clients and offering hugs to the children.
"You blame yourself for his death..." Zadkiel added further. The gunslinger took a confusing glance at Zadkiel, whose smile had only brightened. "Correct. One of my abilities is to read emotions through physical contact, Rönne."
"Isn't it a bit of a private matter?"
"If that was the case, how would I help my patients? To truly understand someone's pain. I must experience their memories."
"Experience?" Rönne repeated it before it hit him. "D-did you just... see my life from birth to now?"
Zadkiel slowly nods, lowering her smile though. "Don't be afraid to share your pain, Rönne. It's an Archangel's duty to help you. Nobody deserves the painful memories that haunt them even after death."
The gunslinger scratched his chin, thinking about what to say...but in the end, he released a defeated breath.
"I'm afraid I'm not sure what to say." He then pointed at himself. "I'm an Angel of Death: I kill, I murder, and I slaughter demons."
"But you never take pleasure in it." Zadkiel noted.
"Well, of course. The Exorcist's violence against demons should be cold, necessary, and without feeling, never out of personal enjoyment or without reason. I killed them because I was ordered to kill them."
"And still you're conflicted: unlike other exorcists, you piety them...you piety the one who you slaughtered...all because of that encounter with a toddler imp. But that wasn't the case for you in the beginning, is it?" Zadkiel pointed it out.
"Sadly yes." Rönne made a mocking chuckle, not at Zadkiel but at himself. In the end, no matter how well he plays this song, he is a hypocrite.
"Tell me about that Imp...trust me, face your pain. It will help you." Zadkiel gently advised him, laying her hand on his shoulder so that he knew he had her comfort.
The gunslinger would look away, silent. But Zadkiel knows he was a rather...closed individual. All of his memories solidify that he was a loner.
"It was 1923, the third year of the Annual Purge." Rönne finally opened up. "I was like a typical exorcist back then: bloodthirsty and a lover of violence. I did my scouting on the roofs, shooting arrows at helpless demons with no retaliation. Then I jumped down and plunged my spear into an imp who was trying to crawl away..."
"And then you saw him..."
Rönne would lower his eyes and take in the harsh truth before continuing. "That baby Imp was in a carriage, crying for a mommy...who had already met her demise as there was a stabbed corpse of an Imp woman near it. So, I walked up, barely even batting an eye as I was ready to plunge my spear into him..."
"But you stopped..."
"Yeah...I prefer not to say what happened next." He whispered. Rönne would then shift his gaze to her. “Funny how it comes to this: for years I've been consumed by wrath, taking whatever demon's life I fancied, not giving a single thought to those I hurt. Yet here I am... with a spear and my revolver, feeling no wiser than when I joined the Order back then. Yet when I turn around and look at the purges I've seen, there's not a sister or brother in arms that I joined with left standing beside me."
The Gunslinger then paused, releasing a breath, before adding one final thought. "But I understand one thing...while I murder, kill, and commit sins. Angels like you, Zadkiel...can do our Lord's real work: show mercy to those who reach the Light of God...while we punish those who reach for the Devil's Darkness."
Zadkiel did give a nod, understanding him. To provide at least some final wisdom, she offered her hand to him. Although he was reluctant, the exorcist decided to accept. When he touched her hand, something felt off...as if-.
"Can you hear me?"
Rönne again looked at Zadkiel, who only smiled at him.
"A-are...I can hear your thoughts...."
"So do I." Zadkiel said in his mind. "I want you to hear this: even if your soul is surrounded by Darkness. You still stand, facing it, while behind you is the light of Heaven. That light warms your back...and you never turn your eyes away from the darkness, ready to face it if it tries to consume the light. For you're a noble exorcist knight: Protector of Heaven and everyone who resides there."
Surprisingly, Zadkiel then leaned closer, giving a little peck kiss to Rönne's cheek. Somehow, for an exorcist, it felt so...human. She would then lean away, giving a bright and warm smile.
"Merry Christmas, Knight Rönne. And thank you for fighting for us." Archangel Zadkiel would rub his arm in comfort before walking away,
"And a little wisdom from you." He heard her voice, which made him glance at where she was. "Pay a visit to your old friends...it's a great start for your soul to find peace."
When a passerby Winner passed near him and blocked Rönne's view of Zadkiel. The next time, she was gone…Archangels... so mysterious, so divine, and yet so close to humanity.
In the end, the gunslinger took the advice and returned to Mr. Hazbin's stall. Molly seemed to share Mr. Hazbin's half-work now. She was the one who handled the toys for their clients....and hugged them if they really wanted them.
"Ah, took your time with her, it seems!" Mr. Hazbin called out.
"Yeah..." Rönne sighed in defeat. Even Mr. Hazbin noticed that and actually...got concerned.
"Are you okay, dear boy?"
"Just...dandy." Rönne then rubbed his face before releasing a breath. "Look, it was fun, but..I...I need to go."
"Where to?"
"To pay respect to my fallen comrades..." It's the only thing he said before the Gunslinger disappeared into a crowd.
Mr. Hazbin looked back at Molly a few times, who was also not sure what was going on. Only a few seconds later, the French merchant made a dramatic throw of his hands in the air.
"Well, I tried!" He said to himself. He took the note clip and pen from his pocket to write the address of the apartment. He then paces towards his worker, laying his hands on her shoulders. "Molly, Be a good girl and sell the rest of the toys, okay?! Also, pay a visit to my wife and ask her to cook the best jambalya for you! And here is your payment for today!"
He hands her a single piece of paper money with a value of 100 deeds. With no delays, Mr. Hazbin grabs his cane and runs away after his friend.
"Where are you going?!" Molly screamed aloud.
"MY FRIEND IN DIRE NEEDS MY SUPPORT!" Mr. Hazbin screamed back at her. He nearly crushed himself against some passersby by accident. He did a polite and apologetic bow before he again started running after him.
As her boss disappeared into the crowd, Molly awkwardly made a hum after solidifying her opinion of him.
"What a weirdo!"
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) Frau - Miss (German)
2) Mon Ami - My Friend (French)
3) Trickbetrüger - Trickster/Con Artist (German)
4) Einem Franzosen kann man nie trauen. - Never can trust a Frenchman (German)
5) Richtig? - Right? (German)
6) Mon chéri - My Dear (French)
Chapter 12: Under The Mercy's Embrace
Summary:
“The healthiest response to life is joy.” - Deepak Chopra
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (6 days before the Extermination), 09:51 AM.
Lower Heaven, The Empyrean City.
With Heaven's own awakened sun, Empyrean City was once again blasted with pure light, giving the Heavenly Capital a beautiful color pallet. Mr. Hazbin himself appreciated these moments. Some locations in Heaven offered a spectacular view of the Sun rising over the horizon. It's an ideal destination for couples or families. Only that moment in the Atchafalaya Basin with Nädege came close to it. Thank God for allowing souls to recall everything from their mortal life. That Basin was such a lovely spot, so tranquil and quiet in contrast to the bustling city of New Orleans.
However, while Mr. Hazbin drove his vintage truck with the Passenger, he attempted to avoid succumbing to his memories entirely. Even in Heaven, traffic accidents were not uncommon. He did, however, sometimes casted a glimpse at his pal, who was completely silent, peering out the window and clutching a bouquet in his hands.
Poor lad.
At the very least, he sympathized as Mr. Hazbin not long ago began his therapy classes with Zadkiel and already he was taken aback by the abrupt outburst of emotions. Archangel Zadkiel had the ability to understand the soul's innermost anxieties and concerns, even if you've never had them before. There were so many things she revealed and told him that made him regret his life choices.
But she was right on one matter: The past does not define who you are. Only the present. Everyone makes mistakes, be it a Human, Angel, Demon, or even a Primordial Spirit. And everyone deserves a chance to learn from mistakes and be better. And with such a mindset, Mr. Hazbin's existence in Heaven was simple, filled with honest labor, his lovely Wife, and even some Leblanc ancestors he met in Heaven. Who would have guessed that his ancestors were vassals to the King of Franks, Charlemagne himself? It must have been a prestigious position back then.
Inside the truck, silence reigned as Mr. Hazbin concentrated his attention on the road, the radio playing Django Reinhardt's A-Tisket A-Tasket. It did, at the very least, alleviate the awkwardness between them. They had previously gone to a flower store to buy flowers for Rönne's Colleagues. He's been completely silent about his situation, but the Frenchman feels it's one of those "visits".
When he had a moment and made sure there were no dangers on the road, Mr. Hazbin would make a strong pat on the Gunslinger's shoulder. The Exorcist would look back at him, with Mr. Hazbin replying with a smile. It's the Merchant's attempt to cheer his dear friend up...it's at least something he can do.
Rönne would take a sigh and return to his stare at the passing Skyscrapers. He knows his friend tries to cheer him up and he does appreciate it. He would have no one other than Mr. Hazbin to watch over his back, and in return...it gives a reason for the Exorcist to fight back against Hell.
And yet, after 100 years of service in the Exorcism Order, you get that feeling of "Burned out" and at the worst...loneliness. The Exorcism Order does approve of the strong bond or even love between Exorcists. Yet they do experience very high casualty rates during the Purge, especially if they are focusing on Non-Sinner Rings. Thus, it's preferable not to have a strong attachment to your brothers and sisters in arms. Something that Rönne has broken this rule already.
He knows that Aikaterine does have strong feelings for him and considers him to be her friend, to which he shares her sentiment back. But with a constant fear of Double-Death and losing everyone you love, you have to let go of these feelings...
"You don't really have to do this for me, Herr Hazbin." Rönne whispered, finally breaking the monotony.
"Don't fret, dear boy. We're together in this, no matter what." Mr. Hazbin wholeheartedly assured.
"But you have a peaceful existence. I'm just a Soldier of God, endangering myself during the Purge...I really don't want my death to be...complicated for you."
"Then let's make sure you won't die, Ha-ha!" Mr. Hazbin performed a dramatic gesture with his hand. "From what I heard, the Void is pretty boring nowadays."
"It's a state of non-existence, Mr. Hazbin." The Gunslinger corrected him. Felt like he needed to do that.
"An even better reason to avoid it! Best for you to spend your time with your favorite LeBlanc Chap!" Mr. Hazbin chirped, causing Gunslinger to roll his eyes...but also produce a faint smile. Of course, Mr. Hazbin saw his smile and decided to provide some wisdom. "See? A little optimism never hurts!"
"I really don't get how you're so optimistic." Rönne would cross his arms with a smirk at Mr. Hazbin.
"Well..." Mr. Hazbin makes an awkward pause before adding further. "The life and existence of a Soul is very complicated, yes. But I prefer to embrace all that is good and let go of negativity. Think about it, my dear Rönne! You still exist, you have me, that lovely Valkyrie and Nädege. We are your friends and family so to speak..."
"Flatterer..." Rönne sighed in defeat but did give a nod, understanding his position. But he still wants to address something that Mr. Hazbin rarely talks about...or avoids. "Have you ever thought about your son...and your Grandmother?"
"Alot...." Mr. Hazbin slightly lowered his smile. "My Grandmother is tough. If she survived the Two Terrors of the French Revolution, she undoubtedly survived Hell to this day. But my little Al, he...well he..." Mr. Hazbin's smile at this point nearly dropped, barely holding it. "...Let's hope he is okay. At worst...then I pray to God that his Double-Death was quick and painless."
Rönne sighs, shaking his head from hearing this. He doubts that it was quick and painless, knowing what his brothers and sisters are capable of...and somehow he feels responsible for it. "I'm so sorry, Herr Hazbin. I wish things were...different."
"We all do...dear boy." Mr. Hazbin makes a slow nod, "We all do..."
For the rest of their trip, they remained silent until they arrived at their destination. Mr. Hazbin gently parked his truck on the left side of the road and turned the engines off. He would turn his head at his friend and notice something unusual from the distance. Here he understood why Rönne was like this...
"The Memorial of Fallen Exorcists."
Mr. Hazbin gulped, seeing a Cemetery in the afterlife was a bit of an oxymoron to him...but he can't deny it feels...Earthly for him
"Well...Here we are." The Gunslinger whispered to himself. He raised his bouquet of flowers to glance at them and back at the entrance to a cemetery.
"Want to come with you?" Mr. Hazbin gently whispered.
"It's fine, Herr Hazbin. I will handle it...and I won't be that long."
"Okay...I will be here if you need me." Mr. Hazbin again brought his hand to Gunslinger's shoulder, as a sign to stay strong. The Exorcist would return to this with a smile and nod, before leaving the truck and closing the door.
The French Merchant watched in silence as Rönne would make his way to the Memorial's Entrance. The entrance is guarded by so-called " Guardians Of Eternal Light ". They are another branch of the Exorcist Order, who are dedicated to making sure their Fallen Brothers and Sisters can have peace with God and Goddess and no one can disturb their eternal sleep.
These two Guards would make a salute, bringing their fists to their armored chests, honoring their brother-in arms' presence. Exorcist Rönne would return this honor with a salute as well before entering Cemetery Park. As he walked through the paved road, both sides were filled with the graves of Fallen Exorcists. Of course, the cemetery itself is in good condition. All the graves are cleaned and polished with flowers of many varieties grown on the dirt.
It's not strange to see them in good condition. When an Exorcist dies in combat, it's very important that some of his brothers and sisters retrieve their bodies before the Purge Ends. After the purge, the body would be transferred back to Heaven, granted the blessing by Archangel Azrael, and adorned with ceremonial armor before it would go into a coffin...
There has been a common debate on what happens after double death...Death has always been a debated phenomenon in the Mortal World. It's Inevitable, and nobody knows what happens after that...yet there is the matter of Double-Death when the soul ceases to exist. Some say, they will become one with God. Others say the Eternal Void shall be your new "friend"...or The Universe dies with you as well...
Giving respect in silence. The Exorcist made his way further into the cemetery. There the graves are a bit older, dating to the early 20th century when Hell invaded Limbo to undo Jesus Christ's Sacrifice. He would stop when he noticed a sign.
*The Limbo Legion*
64 AD - 1920 AD
"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for Righteousness"
Passing the sign, he would be now on the row of the graves of The Fifth Limbo Legion. It wouldn‘t take Rönne long enough to finally find the graves he sought in the first place.
Officer-Marshal Septimius Avenci: 354 - 389 AD (M. L), 389 - 1920 AD (S. L)
Knight-Lieutenant Vera Dobrynina: 1873 - 1905 AD (M. L), 1905- 1920 AD (S. L)
"Sorry for avoiding you both for a while. The Exorcist's Duty completely clouded my mind, I could not thank our Archangel Zadkiel to set me straight. But, I being doing good. I'm mostly dedicated myself to teach our Squires in Ranged Weaponry...who would have thought that this squire would become a Full-on Knight, huh, Marshal?" The Gunslinger would then produce a quiet chuckle. "You both would love how Our Order has changed. Our masks now can produce expressions from our faces. Demons scream in horror when they see us...heh."
Only a mild breeze responded with his words as he silently stared at the graves. He doubts they can hear him from...whatever they are. He wished they would somehow reply...but he can't hide that they are double dead.
"I...I just want to say that..." Rönne makes a pause, trying to gain more confidence. He closes his eyes and opens them again for a second. "I know I have been very bad when it comes to speeches...but I can't thank both of you for giving me a purpose. Only thanks to your teachings and your help, you made me what I'm today...a warrior of God."
The Gunslinger then took his attention to the left grave, wanting to deliver something he had wanted to do for a long time. "Vera, I...I know you hear this a lot from me. But I want to know that you're the only thing that mattered to me. You showed me mercy when you didn't need to. You brought me into the light of God...and I'm the luckiest man to ever have you..."
The Exorcist would crouch down, bringing his fingers to caress the headstone's wall of his loved one...before finishing with one final note. "I'm so sorry, love. I really am. Maybe one day...if I make a fatal mistake...then I will meet you in the Void...but until that, you'll always be with me with that Feather you gave me. Rest peacefully with God...you deserve his presence."
He would kiss his fingers and gently press them against Vera's portrait before laying flowers on their graves. Raising his feet, he clutched his hands together and prayed to God, hoping that there was an afterlife's afterlife for both of them.
"I'm sure they would appreciate your visit, My Knight." Someone commented not far away. Rönne would turn around, only to take a sigh. He felt like he was being watched, and it turned out to be true. Archangel Zadkiel was once again present here, standing between the graves, with her hands clenched together as she watches him, with a very proud smile.
"Always full of surprises, My Archangel."
"Such is our nature, my Knight." Zadkiel produced a quiet chuckle, flattered by the Exorcist's comment. The Archangel of Mercy would gently move closer to where Rönne was standing. "But I'm very glad you listened to me."
"Felt I needed to do that, after your advice..." Rönne whispered, taking a glance at Vera's grave. "They don't deserve that treatment from me. Septimius was a like a father to me: everything I know now is thanks to him...And Vera, she saw something in me while other Exorcists would not have...only because of her, I took a mantle of Heaven's Protector."
"But you didn't forget them. Through you, they will live on. By visiting their graves, you solidified your memory of them." Zadkiel then took notice of the grave that he glanced at, before giving her thoughts. "In fact, the Concept of Graves is always fascinating to me. Even in Afterlife, you honor those who left you."
"It's a sign of respect. We often believe that by burying them, we allow their souls to enter the afterlife." Rönne then shrugs, finding it ironic. "But the problem is: I know what happens after Mortal Death, because I died...but I'm not sure about their cases."
"You and I would never not know it, My Knight. But do not fixate on finding those answers." Zadkiel gently added. "Mortal Death and Cease of Soul's Existence is a rather normal phenomenon. We should embrace and acknowledge it as it's part of my Father's and Mother's Creation."
"But you're not afraid of it. Are you not afraid that by dying you will lose your siblings, your memories and everything you saw and experienced?" Rönne sincerely asked her that. Zadkiel at first would smile at him. She then kindly offered for Rönne to let her hand wrap around his arm. The Exorcist, of course, accepted out of respect for her. When she wrapped her hand around his arm, she gestured to take a little walk with her.
"Let me ask you this: How come women of your species bear children while men don't, mhm?" Zadkiel gently asked.
"Well...that's a rather awkward answer but..." The Gunslinger rubbed his neck, admitting his stupidity in this matter. "I-I actually don't know myself."
"Simple: It all comes from them. Asherah, my dearest mother, is the Primordial Entity of Life. Yahweh, my father, is the Primordial Entity of Creation. Through my father, everything was created but through my mother, everything gained a life. After all, Our Genders, is the aspect that was gained from them." Zadkiel would stop and face him to deliver the main point. "My Knight, the point is: your Goddess gave you a gift of Existence. Enjoy Today for Tomorrow It Awaits Us All. But even if that's a case:"
"Wherever there is Death."
The Archangel Of Mercy would gently take a little flower that grew on one of Exorcist's Graves and offer it to the Knight. Rönne took it before she would, then leaned a bit forward, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"There is also a Life."
The Exorcist smiled at the flower. It's rather beautiful considering it grew on the grave. He, however, would return it back to Zadkiel, as it would be silly to have it with him. She made a quiet awe noise, despite it being her gift to him. But she still accepted it back and put it on her hair.
The Gunslinger would then return his glance at where Mr. Hazbin's Truck was. He has to admit that Zadkiel has a point....He should be really thankful that he is alive and well, that he has friends like Mr. Hazbin and Aikaterine... Mayby, even if Death always stares at him, he’ll still happily embrace it...as long as Mr. Hazbin with Nädege will enjoy Paradise until the end of times...
"The Circle Of Life...it seems." Rönne admitted it, causing Zadkiel to make a proud smile, happy he accepted death as a normal phenomenon. "I really can't thank you enough for your wisdom, My Archangel." He then made a little bow to Lady Of Mercy. She of course humbly returned back his bow with her own.
"Always," Zadkiel then brought her hands together. "I had a chance to talk with Darnel already while you were here. Ms. Ragnatela asked me to take care of Molly for now, hence I offer a proposition for you. There is going to be your Lord and Savior's speech at 12.00 PM and I would love that you, Molly and Mr and Ms LeBlanc could celebrate Christmas instead of...you know." She makes a gentle gesture at her surroundings. "So I'm inviting you both to come with me to Hypelon Plaza."
"I'm not sure, I-."
"Do it for the LeBlancs...do it for me...please?" To, even more, give strength, Zadkiel would slightly title her head and make a sad puppy face. It solidified The Exorcist's defeat in an instant.
"Alright...why not." Rönne sighed in defeat.
"Great! Trust me, it will be fun!" Zadkiel clapped once before starting to walk away, gesturing him to follow her. The Exorcist would release a breath but complied, following her back to the entrance of the Cemetery. The Guardians bowed to their knees upon the presence of an Archangel, but Zadkiel was busy sharing how she loves Christmas so much to the Exorcist, although Rönne remained silent in respect to the Archangel, only replying when needed to.
Mr. Hazbin was outside, leaning against the truck as he held a picture made in the early 20th century, staring at it in deep thoughts. When he heard the sound of high heels getting louder and louder, he immediately hid the picture back in his coat pocket and raised his head, bringing his smile in the instance.
"Ha! Seems you will be joining with me to Hypelon Plaza. What a jolly good show!" Mr. Hazbin chucked at that.
"Yeah, how could I say no to a lady?" Ronnie returned it with a chuckle. Zadkiel's cheeks, although formed a slight tint of gray blush, never got used to hearing that kind of level of appraisal. "So, do you mind if you will drive me to the Plaza? I never got used to my wings..."
"Oh, I would be honored! But do you mind if I call my wife as well? Have to ask her to bring Molly as well."
"Of course: the more the merrier, your kind says." Zadkiel smirked.
"Great, I just need to call her through the phone booth. It would not be that long."
Mr. Hazbin raised his cylinder hat to thank her before rushing to the nearest phone booth, leaving the Exorcist and Archangel alone for now. Much to Zadkiel's disappointment, the Exorcist remained silent. But of course, she knows it's part of their training, to remain diligent and calm even in dire situations. So while they're waiting, Zadkiel would direct her attention at the truck, taking her admiration in Humanity's technological progress.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Zadkiel breaks the silence.
"Hmm?" Rönne makes a hum as he is busy staring at the cemetery in his thoughts.
"The truck..." The Lady Of Mercy points at Mr. Hazbin's vehicle. "Such a useful machine considering your limitations."
"Well, yes but I find them too complicated...I prefer Horses."
"Horses are beautiful creatures, don't they?" Zadkiel quickly changed the topic.
"Sure, they are. I once had a Stallion named Adawolf." Rönne then would lean against the truck. Zadkiel smiled at that, glad her trick was working perfectly. "Heh, stubborn old man he was but quite friendly...and outlived his own rider. Nädege mentioned he stuck with them for a while before dying of old age in 1919." The Gunslinger would then touch his neck, before realizing he seriously opened up to her. He glanced at Zadkiel, who slightly tilted her head. "Something tells me you made me talk about it."
"The more you talk about yourself, the more you open your soul. Never forget this." Zadkiel gave final wisdom before going silent as she glanced to the left, with Mr. Hazbin returning with a bright smile.
"Ah, such a wonderful Angel, she is! Nädege will be joining us! Well, off to the Plaza we go!"
"Can I ask you something, Darnel?" Zadkiel quickly interjected. She took a long glance at the truck before she would answer back. "Do you mind if I try it out? I never ever used this machine before and I'm curious how it works."
"Y-you mean my truck?" Mr. Hazbin points at it, to which Zadkiel nods. "Oh, um...Sure, My Lady...but do you really want this?"
"Of course, I don't think anything bad happen If I will drive."
*2 Hours Later*
Lower Heaven, The Empyrean City/Hypelon Plaza
Not far away from the Stadium of Hypelon Plaza, a Cherub with a Winner is standing near the parking lot, writing down the license plate. When little Angel finished, the visitor handed him the ticket.
"Thank you and Merry Christmas." The Cherub took the ticket from Winner's hands and placed it in his small bag. The winner would leave him while Cherub rechecked his notes.
*Tire Screeching*
"Huh?" Cherub made a sound, hearing from far away.
Much to his surprise, his jaw dropped in horror when he saw a Vintage truck COMPLETELY wrecked...with the smoking engines coming from the hatch. It would park in an empty lot, with Lady Of Mercy, then herself poking her head out of the window.
"See, Darnel? it turned out to be better than I thought!"
*Truck's Bumper collapses on the floor with a loud thump*
"Or maybe not..." Zadkiel whispered to herself. She then teleported herself from the passenger seat to the front of the truck. "Is it supposed to leave the smoke?"
"Much...of my knowledge...no." The Exorcist struggled to say as he left the truck. He felt a headache from Zadkiel's reckless driving and was in dire need of vomiting...before he did it anyway. Mr. Hazbin, also left the passenger seat to check the engine, scratching his mustache as he was thinking about what to do.
"Well, nothing like a screwdriver will fix it."
*The engine lets a lot of smoke on Mr. Hazbin's face.*
"Or two..." Mr. Hazbin coughed, waving his hand to spread out the smoke.
The Lady Of Mercy tapped her chin, thinking about what to do. Her Halo slightly brightened as she got an idea. "Nothing like Raziel's magic fingers will fix it."
Zadkiel then would bring her hands to her chest and close her eyes, muttering something to herself in Enochian Language. Only 10 Seconds later and near them, a light would emit before another Archangel would emerge from it.
"Sister, you and I know the Heavenly Mechanicum cannot be interrupted with your shenanigans. I have 106721786 Contracts to finish for today." Archangel Raziel complained in his robotic tone.
The cherub from the distance, even more, became horrified upon seeing Raziel's appearance. Unlike another Archangel's Human Form of Flesh and Bone, Raziel's is completely robotic. Even his wings are made of complete metal. What in Father's tarnation is this!?
"Sorry, my little brother. But could you fix this machine? Your older sister did an oopsie." Zadkiel cutely said. Raziel's LCD eyes would shift at the truck and immediately gasped from seeing it in that state.
"What have you done!?'' He then rushed closer and literally hugged the Engine in comfort. "Oh, you poor little machine spirit! What these flesh lovers did to you!"
Both Mr. Hazbin and Zadkiel glanced at each other, with Zadkiel shrugging at him. She herself doesn't understand Raziel's obsession with his "The Flesh Is Weak" mentality. Although it probably ties to how Raziel is Patron of Innovation and decided to go...overboard with it.
"So, can you fix it?" She finally said something.
"Fix it I can..." He let go of the engine and turned around to her, crossing his arms, not amused by Zadkiel's behavior. "But why should I?"
"Pretty please...for your sister?" Zadkiel made the cutest smile she could have.
"...Fine!"
Archangel Raziel then rubbed his robotic hands and simply brought his finger to the engine, creating a little spark to it. And it worked, the engine, plus the entire truck got fixed momentarily...
"There, now please don't disturb me for today!" The Cyborg Angel then immediately disappears into nothingness with a snap of his finger.
Mr. Hazbin, despite seeing a literal Cyborg Archangel, would simply shrug his arms "Well...What a pleasing chap!"
"I know, right! He is such a nice little brother!" Zadkiel chuckled, taking her attention to The Exorcist. "Would you agree with me, my knight?"
"W-wha?" Rönne was busy trying to fight the urge to vomit more. Next time, no more Kebabs from Aikaterine...
"Ah, don't be a nancy pansy, my boy. Even Jack The Ripper had worse moments than you." Mr. Hazbin joked as he came closer to the Gunslinger, grabbing his hand to help him out. "But don't worry, Papa Hazbin won't leave you...unlike those nuns..."
With Zadkiel following them, Mr. Hazbin would hand the parking ticket to the Cherub, who still had his jaw dropped from seeing everything...but he still grabbed the ticket and let them enter the stadium. In the end, he just fell into a coma...
With the event getting closer, the crowd gathered at this point, waiting patiently for Jesus Christ's appearance. A few minutes passed by and they managed to find Nädege, sitting at the picnic table with that Italian Woman named Molly they had met earlier, who was enjoying a jambalaya. Much for Mr. Hazbin's surprise!
"Ah, ma chère! C'est si gentil de ta part de faire profiter notre chéri de ton délicieux jambalaya!" Mr. Hazbin chirped in excitement, glad that Molly did visit his wife.
"Et elle semble l'apprécier." Nädege replied with a smile. "Would you agree, Molly?"
Oh, Hell yeah, it tastes amazing!" Molly replied, only to realize she used the wrong word. "Oh, my apologies, Archangel. I meant "heavens."
"Don't worry, Molly. I'm not Adina." Zadkiel waved in dismissal, joining them as well on the table. The Exorcist would be the last one to join, still holding his stomach in pain as he sat down.
"What? Ate German sausages earlier, Exorcist?" Molly joked with a silly smile.
"Very funny, Molly" Rönne grumbled at her but still made a little chuckle, stereotypes on Germans is something extra funny to him. "But I'm Texan German, I have been in the Kaiserreich for 6 months after I was born. My parents decided to leave Europe in the hopes of finding a better life in America. Germans and French were treated fairly in the USA compared to Irish and...well you know."
"Oh, so you were an immigrant like me?" Molly asked him, taking a jambalaya to her mouth with a fork. She swallowed it to add more to the subject. "My own parents emigrated after the Partito Nazionale Fascista came to power in Italy. Spent most of my life in New York with my brothers Anthony and Tommy."
Mr. Hazbin made quite a laugh before also deciding to join the topic. "As for this fancy chap in a suit: I'm myself an immigrant. Born in the Second French Empire, then the Franco-Prussian war happened and my mother had to emigrate with me to Great Britain. I lived in London for a while but eventually left for Louisiana."
"And I guess I will end it then." Nädege smirked at them. "My Grandparents emigrated to the USA in the 1830s from Haiti for a better life. In turn, they were indebted severely and were enslaved because they were and I quote "Negroes". My parents managed to gain freedom after the Civil War, but despite this, It's still hard for me during the Jim Crow Era."
"Yeah..." Rönne nodded, releasing a breath. "Always felt weird how people care about your skin color that much."
"Oh, you don't tell me!" Mr. Hazbin smiled. "Before I met Nädege. I used to know a Creolean Barber in New Orleans, a very nice chap and good at his work. I had a little nasty moment when some middle class man called me a "Negro Lover" after I left his store."
"Technically he was right." Nädege pointed out with a grin. "You married me: a Creolean woman."
"And I don't regret it in the slightest, ma chère!" Mr. Hazbin returned it with a laugh. Zadkiel also produced a faint chuckle, while she was silent in their whole conversation, she really enjoyed them talking. There is something majestic about seeing them like that.
"Look at all of you, sharing the stories with such optimism. Truly, you're the most beautiful creatures that I ever saw and interacted with. You're not afraid to see your mistakes and go into a right path."
"But you're not admitting we as Humanity are very violent and selfish, My Archangel?" Rönne asked sincerely, he felt weird that Mercy herself ignores the bad aspects of Humans as a species.
"Even if I did: Would it matter, My Knight? There are always those who strive to do good. To them, the Gates Of Heaven always are opened." She would then raise herself from the bench. "I would leave you for now to say hi to Sandy. But don't mind my absence. Enjoy this celebration!"
Zadkiel would leave them, waving her hand to them in goodbye for now. She would gently walk towards the crowd, greeting everyone who responded to her presence. There she would find her sister Archangel Sandalphon, who is preparing her earset for the broadcast of Jesus's Speech.
"Sandy! Sandy!" She exclaimed, waving her hand to the Reporter before rushing to her. Sandalphon with slight delay would react back.
"Z, so nice to see you here, sis!" Sandy gasped in surprise. She returned the embrace to her sister. "You're Joining Gabriel?"
"Actually, I'm spending time with my patients. But where is Gabe? I didn't see him in the crowd."
"He is on backstage. Say hi to him while you have a chance, he is been acting strange recently."
"Strange?" Zadkiel repeated to herself before addressing her concerns. "Why?"
"I don't know. He looked liked he is worried for some reason." Sandy explained with a slight shrug. She would have added further, but one of Cherubs flew up to her and whispered to her ear.
"Oh, okay. No worries." Sandalphon replied to the Cherub. The little bee Cherub then flew away to prepare the cameras. "Sorry Z, we need some equipment to be checked before we will broadcast the event. See you later perhaps?"
"No problem, Sandy. Hope you enjoy the Christmas, sister."
Zadkiel would again embrace her angelic sister before leaving her. She would make her way towards the stage, through the crowd, returning the smile and wave to everyone who greeted her. In the meantime, Archangel Gabriel stared at Jesus's Palace from backstage, specifically at the tower. His eyes are narrowed in suspicion, still surprised that he didn't hear explosions from the tower, or at least high alert from Uriel...
Something is clearly not right. His brother, as the treacherous snake he is, would not have come here without a reason...and it's been like...what, 5 hours of him being here? At this point, He could have sabotaged a lot of Heaven's institutions...why is he delaying? If there's something that Gabriel learned quite well from humanity, it's that the bad feeling in your gut is an omen of something bad that's going to happen...
"Hey, Gabe!" He heard a feminine voice. He quickly snapped from his thoughts and turned around to see where she was.
"Zadkiel, what a surprise!" Gabriel exclaimed as Zadkiel came closer to hug her older brother. "But a welcome one."
"How are you being doing? Sandy said you been acting strange lately."
"Strange huh? Quite a compliment to your brother, Zaddy." Gabriel crossed his arms with a smirk. Zadkiel returned it with a little smile. "But no, recently had some..." He then makes a pause, looking at Jesus's palace before finishing his sentence. " Problems ...but I'm will handle it."
"You're sure?" Zadkiel crossed her arms, giving a suspicious look. "I can see you're nervous right now."
Gabriel cleared his throat, avoiding his eyes from his sister's stare. The tension didn't last long when a familiar man in a white tunic with a dove sitting on his shoulder walked up to them.
"Surely we can trust Zadkiel to keep our secrets, brother Gabriel" Jesus provided his opinion, laying his hand on Zadkiel's to greet her in silence. Zadkiel smiled back, laying her hands on Jesus's, squeezing it before waiting for Gabriel's explanation.
Archangel Gabriel closes his eyes and makes a sigh, hoping that it won't spread throughout the entire Heavenly Host. "Zadkiel, I willing to share it. But please don't freak out, okay?"
"Gabe, You know I don't freak out. I'm good a liste-"
"Helel is here!" He quickly interrupted her.
"WHAT!" She exclaimed very loudly, which was fortunate because the music blocked her scream from the rest of the Winners. Gabriel, nevertheless, would still immediately block her mouth in order to avoid the worst scandal in Heaven's history.
"Shh! It's bad enough that I'm concerned about Michael's response. I don't want you to make things even more complicated. Zadkiel, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you to maintain your composure and just listen, okay?"
Zadkiel would make a growling sound before closing her eyes, accepting it, and giving a nod. She would remain calm. Gabriel then uncovered her mouth. She exhaled deeply before asking the sincere question.
"Why-is-he-here?" Zadkiel gritted her teeth.
Gabriel glanced at Jesus. The Messiah did give Gabriel permission to speak. with a simple nod. And so, Gabriel then explains. "It's not surprising that The Seven Deadly Sins of Hell secretly despise each other. Helel wants us to make Satan: The King of Wrath, focus on us while he is busy with his own problems."
"Oh, no...." Zadkiel brought her hand to her mouth. It was far worse than she thought. "But did...did Helel caused any mischief while he is here?"
"So far, no; Sister Uriel is keeping an eye on him. But I expect he will have time to cause harm."
"I doubt that. He is here for a reason...something that caused him to be desperate to come here..." Jesus replied, with the Holy Spirit giving a nod. The Messiah would then smile. "And that something is the only thing that makes him happy in Hell. "
"I still don't trust him..." Gabriel crossed his arms. "Once, I made the greatest mistake by trusting him too much without even questioning his motives."
"Don't blame yourself, Gabe. No one thought he would become like this." Zadkiel comforted him.
"No one did...And we paid the price for it." Gabriel shook his head, sniffling.
Silence engulfed them, with Gabriel lowering his eyes and staring at the floor. Nobody said anything. Jesus only remained silent with respect to the messenger. But suddenly, Mary Magdalene would peek out from behind the curtain, whistling to them.
"Lord Gabriel, My Teacher. Your time is up."
"Well..." Gabriel clapped his hands once, raising his posture and completely erasing his thoughts about Lucifer for now. "Time to "Be Not Afraid" them with my presence."
"Ignite the floor, brother!" Zadkiel patted his shoulder.
With a nod to her sister, Archangel Gabriel would then leave them to enter the stage. The Winners cheered and clapped when they saw their favorite Archangel. To which Gabriel waved them back and gave them a wink as a form of thanks. Miss and Mr. Leblanc clapped as well; only Molly and Rönne Schaffer clapped less enthusiastically. For Molly, it's because of Jambalaya...For Rönne, he sees Gabriel more often than your average Citizen of Heaven.
"Well, well, well. I was surprised to hear some claps for my appearance, hehe." Gabriel proclaimed this to the audience before clearing his throat. "But you all know why you're here today. You're not here to see this handsome angel just standing here in front of thousands people. You're here to see your greatest messiah that ever walked the universe, the man that died for your sins...that the passage to Heaven's Gate was always open to you. MAY I present THE ONE AND THE ONLY, THE MYTH AND THE LEGEND: JESUS CHRIST OF NAZARETH."
Zadkiel would kiss the Messiah's cheek for good luck. She watched him as he left backstage and entered the presence of a huge crowd.
The cheering and clapping were even louder as their eyes were now upon their Messiah. Mr. Hazbin and Nädege raised themselves, clapping their hands. Molly would do the same, though less enthusiastically. The Exorcist Rönne would form an Exorcist salute, honoring his Lord's presence.
Jesus at first waved his hand, thanking everyone in his heart for this loud appraisal. He went to each apostle and gave them a strong embrace, ending with Mary Magdalene, whom Jesus held longer.
The Messiah then went to Gabriel. The Messenger of God first gave him a bow...only for Jesus to do a handshake with an embrace. Jesus then slowly made his way to the lectern. He smiled at the public as he waited kindly and patiently for the crowd to become silent.
"We love you, Jesus!" Someone from the crowd exclaimed. To which Jesus smiled brightened. Zadkiel also made a little giggle; eh, humans, such adorable people.
"I love you too, Kevin!" Jesus replied in a sweet tone. The crowd once again cheered far louder after hearing his voice. But Jesus, of course, waited for them out of respect. Only when the crowd got silent, Jesus open his mouth to start his speech. "I want to thank Gabriel for his kind words to me. Since the day he announced my birthday to my mother, he has been with me ever since. Even today, I could not thank him enough."
"You can, just give me less paperwork!" Gabriel made a joke. Jesus, of course, smiled back at him, with the audience making a few chuckles here and there before going silent.
"Friends, wives, husbands, loved ones. It's a great honor to stand in front of thousands of eyes that wish to hear my words. I'm forever humbled by your faith in me and I could never repay this kindness. But today we gather together to celebrate the most precious event in heaven: Christmas. Even among you, I'm still a human, both in soul and flesh. For me, this day means when Heaven truly lights up: a place for peace, celebrations, harmony, and love. Down Earth, your descendants are joining us to celebrate this event. And even in the abyss, there are those who are still holding their candles for us. We will never forget their faith in us."
"There goes my mood for today..." Exorcist Schaffer would sigh as well.
"Rönne..." Mr. Hazbin wanted to comfort him, but The Exorcist showed his palm.
"It's fine. Don't worry about me. I will handle it."
"One century ago, the greatest disaster struck us. On December 25, 1919, as part of the attempt on my life, The Ring of Limbo, a longtime ally of Heaven, was invaded by the Devil's forces. Millions of Limboers were enslaved, murdered, and assimilated into Imps. The third of the Exorcist's souls were lost that day. And I even lost my old friend in a catastrophe. My friends, let us honor the fallen, let us honor those who died for us to be here...let them be remembered by us carrying their candles."
Jesus then lowered his head to honor them. The crowd also joined in a 1-minute silence. The Exorcist Rönne would pray that there is an afterlife for souls...and that both Vera and his Commander find peace...
Mr. Hazbin would also join in the little prayer. Nädege smiled at him, knowing why he was doing that...but she herself hopes that her little Al is fine and well down in Hell. Molly, although not very religious, did mutter her prayer to Anthony and Tommy, wishing them the best. She could also give some respect to her father...but no, no by mile.
Jesus then raised his head back toward the crowd. He produced a faint smile at them. "But now, let us carry their memories and move forward, my friends. On behalf of the entire Heavenly Host, we wish you a Merry Christmas. Mary, my dear. The floor is yours."
Mary Magdalene gently walked to the stage, taking a microphone from her teacher's hands and paying attention to the crowd. The speakers then started to play the familiar Christmas song.
We wish you a Merry Christmas.
We wish you a Merry Christmas.
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy new year.
Good tidings we bring to you and your kin
We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year.
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding.
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding.
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding.
And bring it right here.
Good tidings we bring to you and your kin
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
As Mary sang her song to the crowd. Both Jesus and Gabriel returned backstage, where Zadkiel clapped her hands.
"You both nailed it pretty good!" Zadkiel had to use the human lexicon, causing the Messiah to chuckle.
"Thank you. But I must admit I'm getting bad at it." Gabriel shrugged.
*Coo-Coo* Holy Spirit gives his opinion on Gabriel's performance.
"Thanks, what would I do with your kind words, Holy Spirit." Gabriel sighed in a sarcastic tone. Zadkiel would cover her mouth, trying to hide her smile from hearing how Holy Spirit "insulted" the Messenger. "So, looks like the only thing left is our traitor brother to deal with it."
"I will handle it. Don't want you to feel bad for the rest of celebration." Jesus volunteered.
"You're sure about this?" Zadkiel sincerely asked him that. The Messiah's smile would only increase as a result.
"Don't worry; I'm sure we will get along. Enjoy the Christmas, my siblings."
The Messiah then flicked his fingers, teleporting him and the Holy Spirit away from where Gabriel and Zadkiel were. Gabriel would scratch his rosy cheek before breaking the silence.
"Z, you're our Father’s Mercy. Do you really think we should offer our hand to our brother...after everything he had done?"
Zadkiel would blink twice...realizing the harsh truth. Everyone knows that she is the Archangel of Mercy. She helps humans heal when they've done something wrong, encouraging them that Heaven cares and will be merciful to them when they confess and repent of their sins, and motivating them to strive for good. After all, one of her famous acts was preventing the prophet Abraham from sacrificing his son, Isaac, after Michael realized he went too "overboard" with God's will.
And indeed, she helps heal emotional wounds by comforting people and healing their painful memories, repairing broken relationships by motivating estranged people to show mercy to each other.
But what about demons?
Specifically...
What about her brother?
In theory, she should show mercy to Helel, but she personally despises him for spitting on everything Mother and Father created, for spitting on humanity that she would then love like her own child, and for spitting on his brothers and sisters only because they weren't power-hungry like him.
"I really don't know...after witnessing how Camael became a raging machine of hatred, I lost all my hope in my fallen brothers and sisters..."
"I know the feeling...Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime." Gabriel murmured, "The worst pain in the world goes beyond the physical. Even further beyond any other emotional pain one can feel. It is the betrayal of a brother you loved."
Zadkiel would remain silent, but only to prevent Gabriel from succumbing to despair this Christmas. She had to let out positivity every now and then.
"That's a mood, Gabriel" Zadkiel chuckled, causing Gabriel to smile.
"Heh, you get used to it..."
After Christ's speech, Mary Magdalene performed her singing to the crowd. The way she sang made the crowd cheer for more. Because she was one of Messiah's closest followers, the Lady of Magdalene is already well-known. But for a while, she has been exploring her singing career. Of course, she quickly became the biggest star in all of heaven. All of her albums are dedicated to love, friendship, humanity's beauty, and the Archangels.
Zadkiel's friends are still at the picnic table, listening to Mary's singing. The Exorcist Rönne must admit, this year's speech was somewhat shallow compared to previous ones.
"Did anyone feel it was rather abrupt?" Rönne commented.
"I'm sure even Jesus is getting tired of saying the same thing every year." Mr. Hazbin then smirked. "I would be."
"You? You're just a traveling Merchant." Rönne sneered. But of course, he didn't intend to do it in an offensive manner.
"A Gentleman Traveling Merchant!" Mr. Hazbin corrected with a smile. "Maybe even proud owner of New Orlean's Finest Hotel..if I lived longer."
Nädege makes a quiet sigh. There he goes again with his dream. "Sweetheart, we already talked about this in our Mortal lives. You and that "Hotel" dream of yours would not have worked back then. You didn't even come up with the hotel's name." Nädege sincerely pointed this out to her husband.
"Oh, come on!" Mr. Hazbin complained. "But it's the easiest thing to create: "Hazbin's Hotel" There, it's a good name already!"
"No offence, but with that name, it will be prone to disaster in the end." The Exorcist commented.
"Oh, for sure...and who would be insane enough to be an tenant with that weird name?" Molly added to Rönne's opinion, finishing her jambalaya.
"Then you would be surprised, my child."
All four of them glanced behind them to see a pale man in, wearing a white jumpsuit and cap that says "Best Dad Of Eternity". He was mopping the floor not far from where they were sitting.
"Um, who are you?" Mr. Hazbin asked on behalf of the group.
"Oh, me?" The janitor brought his hand to his chest, pointing at himself, before replying. "Names Allen Mitty but you can call me Al Mitty. It's running with a lot of people these days."
The Exorcist would return his confused stare to Mr. Hazbin, who would shrug in reply. Neither of them is familiar with this individual...
"Oh, don't mind my presence. Christmas is a very special celebration: it always brings families together; even my own distant son is here, and I might say that sheer pride in him is something." Al Mity chucked at the end. He then pours his mop into a bucket before again clearing the floor. "But I overheard your conversation and thought I could provide some wisdom: now, Mr. Exorcist..."
"Yes?" Rönne answers.
"Despite your controversial job, how can you be sure the hotel with that name will be a disaster? Maybe it will be opposite, or maybe it will do something very good that a lot of people will benifit from it. The name doesn't define the success. It's the person in charge of the hotel who does. Simple as that. But even if the hotel fails at its purpose. He or even she can succeed if they believe in themselves, for a triumph is born out of struggle, one way or another."
"Love, let them have their fun!" Someone exclaimed from far away. It was an old blonde woman with rosy cheeks, sitting on the grass and planting tree seeds in a small garden.
"Your will shall be done, Ash!" Allen returned with a laugh, before giving his attention back to the group. All of them are silently staring at him. "Ah, it's my wife...full of life and kindness. But she is right: enjoy your day."
The Janitor would leave them while Zadkiel was coming back to her patients. The man noticed how she was sad, but not...herself. He would stop to provide some relief. "Cheer up, Zadkiel. On the bright side, it's not everyday you hear from him. He is quite different than he used to be."
"Excuse me?" Zadkiel asked with a slightly apologetic tone. Not understanding what that man meant. The janitor would only smile at the Archangel before leaning forward.
"Talk with Uriel if you have a chance. She will provide insight. Good day, my Mercy."
And without any word, the Janitor would then depart, leaving the confused Zadkiel. She did appreciate the advice, she thinks...but it felt very weird.
Still, she would return to her patients, who were all awkwardly still listening to Mary Magdalene's singing, still felt odd from just random events.
"Enjoying yourselfs?" Zadkiel asked, taking a seat at the picnic table.
"We were...until now." Rönne whispered. He felt strange for himself...and guilty for mocking Mr. Hazbin's name for his Hotel.
"Don't worry. It could be a Seraphim in disguise. They do enter your plane for the sake of hanging out with Humans. Guarding my father's throne gets boring sometimes. Seraphim Emily herself told me that... " Zadkiel explained, although still 100% not sure who that person was.
In meantime, Mary Magdelene finished her Christmas song. The crowd of Winners cheered and clapped their hands for her performance.
"Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, for your applause!" Mary Magdalene exclaimed into her microphone, waving her hand to the crowd. "But our Christmas celebration is not yet over! We'd like to let you choose the next song. It could be anything you wish!"
"Anything, you say?" Gabriel said this from backstage, before walking up closer to Mary and joining her on stage. Some of the crowd ooed at this.
"Of course...within a reason."
Gabriel returned a small laugh before addressing the crowd. "Now, here in Heavenly Host, we do know that you love making fun of religious stereotypes. And I must say, we do enjoy your humor. So for this round, I request for Mary Magdalene to sing one of my favorite songs ever, Sabaton: The Last Stand."
Upon hearing the name, the crowd cheered, even more, chanting "Sabaton! Sabaton!" for Mary to perform. The Lady of Magdalene would nervously swallow under pressure. She is familiar with the song and does hope that it won't cause the non-Christian folk of Heaven to be angry. But since the crowd is completely cheering for her to perform, she decided to do it...
"On one condition, My Messenger."
"Name it."
"You will sing it with me."
"Ha! I accept it!" Gabriel shrugged at the crowd as if it were a challenge. The crowd of Winners cheered, whistled, and clapped their hands after hearing the good news. In the meantime, some Cherubs flew in and took their positions, summoning all the equipment they needed for the song, and, of course, the notes themselves. Gabriel took one of the guitars from Cherub, taking on the role of main guitarist and singer.
With everything is ready, Gabriel would lean closer to the microphone. "This song goes to our brave men and women who endager their existence so that we could sleep well in Heaven. You know them, you probably hate them: The Order of Exorcism and Harrowing."
The crowd once again clapped their hands, Mr. Hazbin would give a pat to Rönne while Zadkiel did a little embrace, honoring his friend's duty. With everything ready, there was a silent pause, and one of the cherubs did the final countdown with his fingers.
And then...
The Sabaton - The Last Stand
Gabriel's singing: normal text
Mary Magdelene's singing: italic text
Gabriel and Mary Magdalene in unison: Bold Text
Gabriel and Mary Magdalene with Cherubs (And The Crowd) in unison: Italic Bold Text
The Cherubs with Gabriel perform only an instrumental part of the song, with Mary Magdalene swinging her hips to the rhythm of the song. Gabriel would then start his vocal.
"In the heart of Holy See!"
"In the home of Christianity!"
"The Seat of power is in danger!"
"There's a foe of a thousand swords!
"They've been abandoned by their lords!"
"Their fall from grace will pave their path, to damnation!"
[Chorus]
"Then the 189"
"In the service of Heaven!"
"They’re protecting the holy line"
"It was 1527, gave their lives on the steps to Heaven!"
"Thy will be done!"
"For the grace, for the might of our Lord"
"For the home of the holy"
"For the faith, for the way of the sword"
"Gave their lives so boldly"
"For the grace, for the might of our Lord"
"In the name of his glory"
"For the faith, for the way of the sword"
"Come and tell their story again"
"Under guard of 42"
"Along a secret avenue"
"Castel Saint’Angelo is waiting"
"They’re the guard of the Holy See"
"They’re the guards of Christianity"
"Their path to history is paved with salvation"
[Chorus]
"Then the 189"
"In the service of heaven"
"They’re protecting the holy line"
"It was 1527, gave their lives on the steps to Heaven"
"Thy will be done!"
"For the grace, for the might of our lord"
"For the home of the holy"
"For the faith, for the way of the sword"
"Gave their lives so boldly"
"For the grace, for the might of our lord"
"In the name of his glory"
"For the faith, for the way of the sword"
"Come and tell their story again"
Once again, Gabriel with Cherubs performed the instrumental part of the song. Mary was surprised at how good they are at playing the instruments. But it seems with being a Supernatural species, it comes with perks.
"GIVE ME YOUR BEST!" Gabriel exclaimed to the crowd, warning that it's about to start.
"Dying for salvation with dedication"
"No Capitulation, annihilation"
"Papal commendation, reincarnation"
"Heaven is your destination"
"Dying for salvation with dedication"
"No Capitulation, annihilation"
"Papal commendation, reincarnation"
"Heaven is your destination"
"WITH ME!" Gabriel exclaimed to the crowd once more.
" IN-THE-NAME-OF-GOD!"
"Charming as ever..." Al. Mitty smirked, busying wiping the floor with his mop-
"For the grace, for the might of our Lord!
"For the home of the holy!"
"For the faith, for the way of the sword!"
"Gave their lives so boldly!"
"For the grace, for the might of our Lord!"
"In the name of his glory!"
"For the faith, for the way of the sword!"
"Come and tell the story!"
"Gave their lives so boldly!"
"Come and tell the Swiss guards story again!"
Both Mary and Gabriel would finish with a pose, Gabriel with his fist to their hair and Mary on her lift hip. The crowd perhaps was the loudest with their cheering and clapping it.
"Thank you all, it was a pleasure to sing it! But applaud Mary Magdalene for making our Christmas event in first place. Here's to you, Mary!" Gabriel would join with Winners to clap for Mary Magdalene's performance, with Mary flatteringly bringing her hands to her chest, thanking everyone out of all heart.
"You humble with such kindness to me, everyone!" Mary exclaimed to the microphone. "But know this, for today I'm at your service for it's a just beginning for our musical event."
"And give them a good time, Mary." Gabriel replied to her, before waving his hand at the crowd as a goodbye. "Thank you all for participating. Until the Next Year, my friends!"
"THANK YOU, LORD GABRIEL!" The Crowd shouted in unison. Gabriel could only bow to this such respect before disappearing. Zadkiel's friends also clapped from this spectacular show, despite Exorcist not knowing what was song about.
"Maybe it's because I don't listen modern stuff, but what's a Sabaton?" Rönne asked his friends.
"A Swedish Mortal Group, famous for singing historical events and people." Zadkiel explained, surprising the four of them that Archangel knows this stuff.
"Wait, how in Heaven’s name do you know this?" The Exorcist again inquired about more.
Zadkiel chuckled nervously, with a gray tint of blush forming on her rosy cheeks. "I...have their album for...you know...for science?"
"Ssuurre..." All four of them replied in unison, narrowing their eyes in disbelief. The blush on Zadkiel would intensify. But thankfully, her embarrassment would not last long when a woman would come closer to where Zadkiel and her patients were sitting. Molly immediately gasped upon catching her eyes on that woman.
"Ma?!"
3) "Molly, la mia piccola!" The woman would offer a hug, and Molly didn't lose a second to get up and embrace her mother. Zadkiel would gently walk up to them, with Molly's mother would then take Archangel's hand to shake it. 4) " Oh, grazie, Signora della Misericordia! Grazie per esserti presa cura di lei!"
5) "Non c'è bisogno di ringraziarmi. Il signor Hazbin è stato gentile a offrirle un lavoro. Molly è in ottime mani!" Zadkiel spoke in very fluent Italian. Molly's mother would glance at Mr. Hazbin, she did give a warm nod of thanks and Mr. Hazbin replied by slightly raising his cylinder hat to her. "Looks like Molly needs to leave us. Say goodbye to her!"
Rönne with the LeBlancs said their goodbyes, waving. Molly also would wave her hand, before walking away with her mother. Zadkiel then would return back to them. "If you're not tired of me and don't mind my presence. I can hang out with you more."
"How about we check out the Hypelon's market?" Nädege offered. "I need to buy some supplies for my cooking."
"Oh, I would be delighted!" Zadkiel chirped in. The three of them would get up, with Nädege taking Molly's finished plastic dish and throwing it to the nearest trash bin before going to Market.
*At least 1 hour later*
The Hypelon Market is one of many markets in Heaven, here you can buy pretty much anything you could think of: modern TVs, vintage TVs, perhaps even something from the Age of Enlightenment. Of course, with the approaching of Christmas, it now sells with a significant discount on products.
Fortunately, Zadkiel is with them nearly all of the time, and the shopkeepers offered a 90% discount to the LeBlanc's and Rönne. But the LeBlancs didn't use the opportunity as Nädege only bought a new kettle and some ingredients for Dinner. Mr. Hazbin didn't need anything and only paid for what Nädege wanted.
Rönne, on the other hand, went to a gift shop. Behind him is Zadkiel, who is, to say the least, vibey. At this point, nearly the entire market offered her free stuff, but she declined. That is, until she was offered a Victorian-style woman's hat with two feathers on the back for free. And now Zadkiel is wearing it while inspecting tiny trinkets.
"How about this?" Rönne pointed at the painted ceramic bowl, made in the Middle East.
"I don't think it suits a Christmas gift." Shopkeeper Winner shrugged. "Perhaps you could tell me about your friend."
"Well, she is Turkish and a die-hard Muslim, plus an Exorcist."
"Well, in that case." The shopkeeper would reach for an upper shelf to show Rönne. "A fine Ottoman-made necklace with topaz will suit her well. And pretty cheap."
"And how much?"
"Just 76 deeds, my friend."
"Yeah, definitely cheap ." Rönne makes a sarcastic comment, also with a cough. He would still reach for his satchel for his deeds. It turned out to be that he only has 67 Deeds, with the rest of his savings in his dormitory. The exorcist's monthly wage is around 1000 deeds, plus a 500-deed bonus for the exorcist's relatives, plus an additional 2000 deeds if the exorcist dies during the Purge."
"Crap..." He cursed to himself, quietly enough for even Zadkiel to notice it. "Can we make a deal?"
"That's depends: how much do you love that girl?"
"She is my sister in arms; we have been in the same squad since 1954. But I do care a lot for her."
"That means yes." Zadkiel explained more clearly behind Rönne's back, making him sigh.
"Alright, in that case, I can sell it for 50 Deeds."
"Really?" The Exorcist repeated his disbelief, and the shopkeeper nodded. "Thank you very much!"
And with the agreement solidified, The Exorcist only paid 50 deeds for the necklace, while the shopkeeper put it in the small bag, and handed it to the Gunslinger. With Zadkiel, they returned to Nädege and Mr. Hazbin, who were waiting for them.
"Any luck, my boy?"
"Yep." Rönne showed them the bag. "Bought a necklace with Turkish Topaz."
"Ah, the best gift for a woman. I guarantee you she will accept it." Nädege added. Zadkiel would chuckle too, completely agreeing with her.
"Let's hope.." He placed it back in his satchel. "So, anything else you need, Mr. Hazbin?"
"Not really, Nädege needs to do some cooking soon; I guess we can leave now."
"Alright, I will walk you to your truck."
And so they left the market and returned to the parking lot. The Cherub, who previously witnessed Archangel's attempt at driving and the fusion of an angel and Robot, is still here. When he saw them, he nervously starts to shake in fear. Zadkiel would pinch the cherub's cheek, a sign that everything was fine.
Mr. Hazbin would help Nädege get into the truck, but not before he himself got into the driver's seat. He would turn around to say goodbye to his old friend. "I guess this is it..."
"Yeah, it seems to be.."
Mr. Hazbin's lips slightly quivered, making a little sigh. But his smile still remained strong. "It's quite a little adventure we had for today, don't you think? Sometimes, I miss those days."
"True...but all good things must come to an end, isn't it?" Rönne shrugged. Zadkiel, behind them, would make a mournful nod to herself, admitting the wisdom.
"The story of our lives." Mr. Hazbin chuckled quietly. "After January 1st... please send me a message that you are fine."
"I promise." Rönne would then extend his hand to shake. But Mr. Hazbin instead embraced him in a tight hug, surprising the Exorcist. He nevertheless returned it back.
With no words, the merchant would release him, giving him a pat on the shoulder before getting into his truck. Starting the engines, Rönne would wave his hand, with Leblanc returning it. But before Mr. Hazbin could move his truck, he heard one final word.
"Darnel, your constant friendship has been my most treasured find in this afterlife, well above Heaven itself. I prize the positivity you inspire me to live on. Thank you, my friend. And enjoy the paradise for the rest of your existence!"
"Same to you, dear boy. Same to you!" Mr. Hazbin would start to move his truck, but still, he and Nädege waved their hands to him. "Until we meet again, and I swear to God, we will see each other in the future!"
And with that, Mr. Hazbin's truck would leave the parking lot and disappear into the streets of Empyrean City. In the silence that ensued, Zadkiel would come closer to the Exorcist.
"Your kinship with him sets a good example for even Archangels, Knight... something we failed to do in some cases."
"Lucifer?" Rönne whispered, not adding further as he understood what she meant. Zadkiel's nod would solidify it before she gently caressed his arm, giving him a goodbye.
"I'll have to see Archangel Uriel for...my own reasons. Until we meet next time, my Knight. My prayer goes out to you during the Purge." With a smile, Zadkiel would leave him alone, barely even turning his sight on her; she had already disappeared from his presence. And with that, the good note ended.
Rönne glanced at the building with a digital clock on it, blinking every time the minute passed.
15.21 PM
25.11.2019
Less than a week...
Releasing a breath, Rönne would leave the parking lot to hail a cab. Unbeknownst to him, Zadkiel didn't disappear but rather teleported herself far away. She awkwardly stood silent, arms crossed and deep in her thoughts. It only broke when a bee-looking cherub flew past her, greeting the Archangel's presence. Zadkiel quickly interjected.
"Hey, Honey. Do you know where Archangel Uriel is right now? I do not want to disturb her with a prayer."
"She visited Michael an hour ago. But best for you to check The Great Library of Heaven, My Archangel. More often, you can find her there."
"The Library it is..." Zadkiel sighed, before nodding to the Cherub. "Thanks, Honey."
"Always, My Archangel." Honey bowed her head before flying away to her duties. And so, all that's left is to find Uriel...For she must know of Lucifer's intentions.
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) Ah, ma chère! C'est si gentil de ta part de faire profiter notre chéri de ton délicieux jambalaya! - "Ah, my dear! So nice of you to let our darling enjoy your delicious jambalaya!" (French)
2) "Et elle semble l'apprécier." - "And she seems to enjoy it." (French)
3) "Molly, la mia piccola!" - "Molly, my baby girl!" (Italian)
4) "Oh, grazie, Signora della Misericordia! Grazie per esserti presa cura di lei!" - "Oh, thank you, Lady of Mercy! Thank you for taking care of her!" (Italian)
5) "Non c'è bisogno di ringraziarmi. Il signor Hazbin è stato gentile a offrirle un lavoro. Molly è in ottime mani!" - "No need to thank me. Mr. Hazbin was kind enough to offer her a job. Molly is in very good hands!" (Italian)
Chapter 13: Two Steps From Hell
Summary:
"Heaven is nothing: it's a corpse, rotting slowly from within while maggots writhe its belly. It was built with the toil of heroes and giants, and now it is inhabited by frightened weakling Angels who sent down these Heretical Exorcists to fight us. When our time will come, we will paint colors of Heaven with their organs and decorate our banners with their corpses. Let it be the day when Our Dark Lord's Will finally be done!" - Lord Regent Iblis to Stygian Council, after the Exorcist's Massacre of Acheron City during the First Purge (1920 AD)
Notes:
Notes: The names of Ars Paulina are taken from this source:
https://www.angelarium.net
Also, I would like to shoutout to khaleesiofthewolves for assistment in some parts of this chapter. Please, also check his newest story: Chasing Starlight.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
December 25, 2019, AD (6 days before the Extermination), 16.35 PM.
Lower Heaven, The Empyrean City, The Great Library of Heaven.
The Great Library of Alexandria in Egypt once housed between 40,000 and 400,000 papyrus scrolls, making it one of the largest and most important centers of learning in the ancient world. The library's condition deteriorated over time due to a lack of funding and support, and it was eventually destroyed. But, thanks to the efforts of Heaven's Ars Paulina: The Remnant of Pre-Rebellion Ars Goetia, the library's destruction was not in vain. Paulina had already rewritten the majority of the scrolls when the Library of Alexandria was destroyed, and they are now safely stored in the Great Library of Heaven.
The Ars Paulina is composed of thirteen Zodiac angels and twenty-four angels aligned with the twenty-four hours of the day who were once members of Goetia but remained faithful to God. These are their names:
- Asmodel: Angel of Taurus
- Kundaliel, Angel of Ophiuchus
- Hanael, Angel of Capricorn
- Cambiel, Angel of Aquarius
- Malahidael, Angel of Aries
- Advachiel, Angel of Sagittarius
- Barchiel, Angel of Pisces
- Zuriel, Angel of Libra
- Hamaliel, Angel of Virgo
- Barbiel, Angel of Scorpio
- Muriel, Angel of Cancer
- Verchiel, Angel of Leo
- Ambriel, Angel of Gemini
And Angels of Hours are:
- Samuel
- Anael
- Vequaniel
- Vathmiel
- Sasquiel
- Saniel
- Barquiel
- Osmadiel
- Quabriel
- Oriel
- Bariel
- Beratiel
- Sabrathan
- Tartys
- Serquanich
- Jefischa
- Abasdarhon
- Zaazenach
- Mendrion
- Narcoriel
- Pamyel
- XIassuarim
- Dardariel
- Sarandiel
Now they are known as the 37 Angels of Ars Paulina. They still run the Great Library with the help of King Solomon of Israel and, on occasion, Uriel. The library itself contains nearly all of the books or scrolls written since the beginning of time, allowing for a broad range of knowledge.
Archangel Zadkiel is currently walking up the stairs to the library's entrance. Normally, she doesn't see this place that much as she is here to see her sister Uriel, who spends some of her time in the library. While Zadkiel did not read as many books as Uriel, she did read some... silly romances, particularly "Romeo and Juliet"...and that was enough for Zadkiel to realize she is a hopeless romantic.
Entering the building, quiet and silence engulfed her surroundings. There were a few Winners in the lobby, reading the books, while Cherubs flew with a stock of books on their hands, assisting the Ars Paulina with the running library. Zadkiel would gently take her walk to the receptionist's desk, where an Ars Paulinic Angel named Zuriel Paulina was sitting.
"Greetings, Sister of Mercy. We have a wide selection of romantic novellas for you if you want to rent them out. " Zuriel Paulina greeted Zadkiel with a little wave.
"No, but thank you, Zuriel." Zadkiel whispered, blushing. She hoped the Winners didn't hear that. "Is Archangel Uriel here? I want to speak with her...personal matters."
"Certainly, My Archangel. She just arrived an hour ago...with an unusually low mood." Zuriel at the last part, said it quietly before raising her tone again. "But allow me to guide you to her."
With a nod from Zadkiel's approval, Zuriel stood up and guided her superior to where Uriel was. They passed at least 31 rows of bookshelves, and that was just the first floor. The library reaches the 60th floor and can be tedious if you search for a particular book...but that's what Ars Paulina is for.
Zuriel would start to slow her walk as Zadkiel and she started to hear arguing. Zuriel would gently show her palm, asking Zadkiel to stay quiet as the Paulinic Angel then peeked in to witness what was going on. It turns out that Uriel is arguing with one of Cherubs, and judging by Lady Auriel's expression, she's not in the mood to be annoyed.
"But, my Lady. It's a violation of what our library stands for! We should allow any book no matter the content it has!" The Cherub complained while Uriel checked the bookshelf to see if everything was in order. The Lady of Light would sigh and take off her spectacles when the edge of her hair began to flow more quickly: It's a positive indication when she's irritated.
"How many times do I have to tell you. I do not allow books with this kind of content!" Uriel explained, holding her irritation in check.
"But it's still a piece of knowledge, my lady! I insist-"
"Enough! I said no, and this is the end of our discussion." Uriel snapped. The Cherub's lips were sealed in an instant, causing her to sniff for a very awkward 5 seconds before crying out in betrayal.
"I-I WILL REPORT THIS TO METATRON!" The Cherub exclaimed loud enough before she would then fly away as quickly as possible, not noticing Zadkiel and Zuriel's presence and still sobbing along the way.
Archangel Uriel took a breath as remorse would appear on her face. She had no intention of offending the Cherub, to begin with. The Lady of Light knows the Cherubs have a noble heart and good intentions. However, it has been demonstrated several times that they only perceive Black and White in this universe.
"Lady Auriel?" Zuriel Paulina gently knocked against the bookshelf, gaining Uriel's attention. "The Lady of Mercy wants to see you."
Zadkiel then moved from the bookshelf to reveal her presence to the Lady of Light. Uriel's halo would spark a bit of excitement upon seeing her little sister.
"Zaddy!" Uriel exclaimed, but not loudly enough to disturb the library. The older sister would take no seconds to embrace Zadkiel and kiss her on the cheek. "It's so great to see you!"
"And you too, Uri." Zadkiel then laughed, noticing how adorable Uriel was. "You look very cute with glasses, my dearest."
"Heh, I hear it all the time." Uriel responded with a shaky laugh. She'd still take her glasses off, not wanting Zadkiel to focus on them any more than she had to. "But, aside from the cuteness of this Archangel, how have you been, sis?"
"Good, I think. I recently ran into some old patients...and an unusual Exorcist. He turned out to be...a little more complicated than your typical Azrael's Servant."
"I know the feeling..." Uriel shook her head slightly, making a little sigh to herself.
Zuriel behind them would make a bow before leaving to attend to her duties. When she left their presence, Zadkiel would then whisper to Uriel.
"What happened between you and that Cherub?"
Before explaining the situation, Uriel would make an annoyed roll of her eyes. "It's not anything serious. She wanted every book, including the controversial ones, to be available for Winners."
"For example?"
"Like Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler..." Uriel said it eerily, taking the opportunity to finish sorting the books before she could fully turn her attention to Lady of Mercy. Meanwhile, Zadkiel would blink twice on a response before shrugging in confusion.
"Okay? The title is strange, but why is it controversial, Auri?"
"It's-" Uriel started but stopped herself because it's too complicated to explain to Archangel, who isn't an expert in this area. "Perhaps another time, Zadkiel, I'll explain it to you." Uriel would then place the remaining books on shelves before turning around to focus solely on Zadkiel. "So how can I assist you, my little sister?"
Zadkiel would look back to make sure they weren't being watched, honoring Gabriel's wish not to cause any scandals. "It's just that I met with Gabriel recently and he told me-"
"About Helel?" Uriel spoke up in a hushed tone, having already guessed why Zadkiel was here. She then exhaled deeply. The flow of her hair is barely moving at this point. "Let's have a chat in my office."
Without saying anything, Zadkiel followed her sister to Uriel's personal office at the library. When Uriel entered, he motioned for Zadkiel to take a seat on the couch, which she did. Uriel would lock the door behind him, not wanting any more surprises. She would then sit on the couch with Zadkiel.
There was a brief silence as Uriel gloomily stared at the floor before straightening up and looking at Zadkiel. "Gabriel is correct...Helel had previously visited Heaven. He revealed himself to me while I was present."
"Did he cause you any harm?" Zadkiel inquired, concerned. Although Uriel has no injuries, The Angel of Mercy is genuinely worried about Uriel's psyche...it's very easy to psychologically harm someone... and no doubt Lucifer could have done so to spite Uriel.
"No, he did not..." Uriel responded with a slightly weak laugh, also finding it strange to say. "He was nice to me...and a little annoying at times. But that's how he was to Michael a long time ago..."
"But why was he here in the first place?" Zadkiel inquired, still puzzled. "Gabriel mentioned he has a beef with Devil in the Ninth Ring. Jesus's explanation was somewhat hazy too."
"Helel, too, was dark in his motives. But you're correct: Helel told me and Gabriel that he has a problem with Devil on Hell. He requested us to draw his attention on us."
"So he's using us?!" Zadkiel slightly raised her voice, unable to believe what she had just heard. "After everything he's done, he's got the audacity to ASK for our help?! How dare he!"
Zadkiel would then cover her face with her hands in frustration. Uriel recognizes Zadkiel's anger. Like Helel in the past, Zadkiel always expressed herself through her emotions.
When the Rebellion happened, Zadkiel witnessed the worst atrocities committed by Rebel Angels: They showed no mercy to Loyalists, even those who begged to be spared. The only response from the Rebels was a stab with their swords or spears. Only after it was revealed that Helel sought to overthrow the Throne and Satanael to destroy the Universe, that Zadkiel finally lose all faith in Fallen Angels.
There was a slight pause between them before Angel of Mercy would uncover her face. Despite Zadkiel's anger, Uriel is the one who suffers the most as a result of this. In comparison to Uriel, Zadkiel rarely got to hang out with Helel. As a result, she was spared the full impact of Helel's betrayal. She is aware that Uriel has always held Helel in high regard...even now.
Zadkiel can only piety her Older Sister...
"It must be difficult to you: I know you and him had a strong bond, only for it be to be crashed into a Oblivion...now you saw him after so many millennia later only to see him demanding your cooperation with him...I could not imagine what you're feeling now, sister."
At first, the Light of God would be silent. She bit her lower lip, unsure what to say...and so let her emotions out. "I noticed how little he had changed. That old Helel I knew and love is still in him...but his pride clouded his mind, making him bitter at us...yet...despite all of that...he found peace in Hell."
"Peace?"
"Yes, Zadkiel, he has a child. Charlie is her given name." Uriel gave a weak nod.
"Child? Oh, no..." Zadkiel covered her mouth in horror as she repeated this. Something didn't make sense to her about why Helel was here. And now that she's learned about Helel's offspring...pretty much, it's confirmed his motives. Even weird: everyone knows the Archangels can't have children no matter what...unless...they were wrong.
Zadkiel would awkwardly place her hands on her stomach from thinking about it. Uriel would raise her left brow as she looked at her.
"Y-you don't think we'll be able to have...children, do you?" Zadkiel murmured in an uneasy tone, still not used to thinking about it.
Uriel would hum in response, clearly perplexed too. The concept of "Birth of life" was introduced to Creation by their dearest Mother Asherah. By this logic, she must have allowed Helel to have a child. However, it is unknown whether a "Female" Archangel can bear children. In the Grigori Angel's case, they mated with Humans, and Humanity's Females bear their child, proving that Helel could have easily impregnated either a Demon or a Human. But still...she could not help but smile at Zadkiel...she could see her sister got intrigued.
"You want to be a mother, Zaddy?" Uriel said it sincerely, not mocking Zadkiel in any way.
"What!?" Zadkiel exclaimed as a large gray blush formed on her cheeks, now in full defense mode. "No, it's just I-I-I couldn't figure out why Helel can have children!"
"Our Mother finds a way, love." Uriel only chuckled at that. Still, despite that little joke, Uriel could tell that the news of Helel becoming a father made Zadkiel happier. The way she began to smile more clearly demonstrated this point. But it didn't take long for Zadkiel's smile to fade into a worried expression.
"Yeah, me too, Zaddy." Uriel whispered, causing Zadkiel to look at her in confusion. "I also wonder if Charlie deserves to be in Hell..."
"But, you must admit it's not fair!" Zadkiel then crossed her arms, pondering it out loud. "Yes, her father has betrayed us. But should we really judge Charlie on her father's wrongdoings?"
Uriel would nod, acknowledging the sadness: is a well-known hot topic in Heaven: What to do with the New Generation of Hellborn Demons. Those born after the Rebellion do not resent Heaven as much as their fathers did. To them, Heaven and Hell's Feuds are just normal occurrences in this Universe, with no context.
And for Heaven, it became a long "grudge" game. Uriel can tell that Heaven still has the "Bitter" feeling that followed The Rebellion did not go away. Azrael embodies the "Better be dead than a Demon" mentality, with his Exorcists showing no mercy even to those who did not exist during the Rebellion.
But there is no denying that some Demons have been thrown down into a pit of hatred towards Heaven, to the point where they are openly discussing committing Genocide against both Heaven and Earth. Uriel would not show mercy to them, especially Lord Regent Iblis.
And speaking of him...
"Did Gabriel tell you what Helel specifically wants us to do, Zadkiel?" Uriel asked her. Zadkiel only shrugged her shoulders. "He wants us to assassinate Lord Regent Iblis: The Dark Lord's Left Hand."
"Oh, him ." Zadkiel grumbled to herself. She would not lie if she admitted to being a hypocrite from time to time... but she would never, never, NEVER grant Mercy to an insane demon and Genocide Denier who openly seeks to destroy them. "I still don't have a complete picture: But why Iblis?"
"According to Eve, Charlie is doing something controversial that will attract Hardline Demons. Since Lucifer with the rest of the 5 Kings and 1 Queen of Deadly Sins in Hell are bound under the "Satanic Triumvirate", he can't really just go and murder Iblis in plain sight, hence Helel's request: He wants us to assassinate Iblis instead. I had already visited Michael, and we had scheduled a Crystal Council meeting for the next two hours to discuss the entire situation with the rest of the Heavenly Host."
"In that case..." Zadkiel then stands up from the couch. "I'm joining you aswell."
"You don't have to, Z. I assure you everything will be fine."
"No, Uriel. For I must: Even if I have lost faith in Helel, my Mercy still goes out to Charlie." Zadkiel confidently returned it. She would then move in closer to whisper an important detail. "You and I both know Michael would never accept Charlie's existence as Helel's child. But I will...and I want to make sure that her existence will be kept secret from Michael."
Uriel took a deep breath, as she doesn't want Zadkiel to get caught up in politics...but Zadkiel is an adult Archangel. The only thing Uriel could do was to accept her choice.
"Then let us not waste time on this." Uriel, too, stood up. Zadkiel nodded, thanking her Elder Sister in Silence. Now the only thing left for them is the Council Meeting itself.
They returned to where Zuriel Paulina was sitting, busy with the usual management of the Library. She immediately stood up in response to the two Archangels' presence.
"Zuriel, don't forget to tell Solomon about my absence."
"Of course, Light. Just as you said." Zuriel bowed her head. And with that, Uriel gave a nod and departed the Library, with Zadkiel following her.
Lower Heaven/Empyrean's Central Sector/Jesus's Palace.
*At least an hour later*
At the top floor of Jesus's Palace is a Elder Council itself: the legislative and executive branch of the entire Heavenly Covenant. Its primary responsibilities are to handle Heaven's political affairs. The Council is made up of Heavenly Host representatives, who, as the name implies, represents a single Angel's Hierarchy Class. The Seven Archangels, along with Michael, are the main driving force behind Council, with Metatron serving as an advisor. These days, Azrael has also pushed for inclusion in the Council, much to Gabriel and Uriel's disapproval.
But thankfully, it's often rare that Elder Council is used as Heaven never really had "Outside" problems for most of its existence. Only in the 20th century did things change: First, with Limbo’s Destruction, the Council voted in favor of Annual Purges, and then Humanity's World War 2 caused a lot of imbalance.
As they waited, Zadkiel stood halfway, with Uriel, almost touching Lady of Light's arm with her shoulder. With only a few minutes until the Council's session begins, Zadkiel is already beginning to feel the regret of her participation. Some members of the Heavenly Choir's Hierarchy in Angel Forms whispered to one another, perplexed as to why the Archangel of Mercy had arrived. According to what Zadkiel has heard, some are concerned that this Council meeting will be far more important than usual, due to Zadkiel's presence.
"Nervous, love?" Uriel broke the silence with a whisper.
"No, I'm just not used to it." Zadkiel replied in a hushed tone.
"No one does, Gabriel despises these gatherings. He always preferred when our Mother and Father's words were final....and I can sympathize with that..." In the end, Uriel chuckled as she happened to notice Gabriel's arrival "And speaking of Gabriel..."
Gabriel would approach them, hands tied behind his back. "Hello, you two. Probably not happy as well?"
"You could say that...And sorry about that, Gabe."
"Eh, no worries. Expected it to happen..." Gabriel sighed, before then taking his glance at Zadkiel. "Well at least you here, now that Jophiel and Raphael are not coming."
"What happened?" Zadkiel asked.
"Raphael's too busy with medical stuff, I guess. He speaks too fast for me to understand him. As for Jophiel: you know her, she was never interested in our conflict with Azrael." Gabriel then launches his arms into the air. "Well! At least there‘s less neutrality in the Council..."
Pausing himself, The Messenger Of God would then look back to make sure Azrael wasn't already here, before motioning for him to take a walk away from the rest of the Angel's presence. They both agreed, following Gabriel a bit away before he revealed what he wanted to say.
"So I can see you're joining us, Zadkiel?"
"Yes, Gabriel. But only because of Charlie..." Zadkiel whispered back.
"I understand...not that I share this feeling back." Gabriel makes a cautious glance at Uriel, making sure she heard it very well. "But regardless: Eve informed me that she was able to slip the documents to E.O.P. They are reforged under Collaborator Goetia instead of our "dearest" brother."
"By whom?"
"Phenex Goetia: Great Marquis of Hell. It's a far more believable story that it came from her rather than...our brother."
"Good." Uriel whispered in a smile, glad her Little Eve was successful. "So what’s next for us?"
"The next will be to convince Azrael and Michael to enact the Assassination Plan on Iblis. That way, we could hide our original intentions. In the end: Helel will be happy, we will be happy and Michael with Azrael will be happy." Gabriel explained before he then glanced at the clock, noting it's about to start "Looks like the time is up. Just remember: no word about Helel's visit to Michael, Azrael and Metatron. We gained this information from Phenex Goetia..."
Both Archangel Sisters gave a nod and followed Gabriel, along with the rest of the Members of the Council, to the main chamber. The Chamber itself is pretty much an ordinary one: There is a Tribune for Heavenly Host's representatives, and the round table in the center is for Archangels.
Chancellor Metatron is already present, busy with his papers. He did give a nod to everyone who arrived early, only when his eyes caught on Zadkiel's presence that he stop and come closer to welcome a new soul.
"Young Zadkiel. A Surprise to see you here, but a welcome one." Chancellor Metatron gave a nod and smile to Lady Mercy. "Here to observe your older siblings?"
"Zadkiel will be attending the session instead of Jophiel and Raphael." Uriel explained instead of Zadkiel.
"Under whose orders?" Someone said behind them. It was Archangel Azrael, who arrived as well. Zadkiel slightly tensed upon seeing her older brother. It reminded her of that conversation she had with Exorcist Rönne earlier... ironically, she can see Azrael why is often known as the "Grim Reaper".
Archangel Azrael is the Angel of Death and Leader of Exorcists. Normally, he is responsible for transporting the souls of the deceased after their death to Purgatory to be judged. Compared to other Archangels, Azrael has rosy black cheeks, black hair instead of blonde or white, and more greyish skin compared to Archangel's common pale complexion, making him less..."connective" to the rest of Archangel siblings.
"Mine's, Azrael" Uriel passively-aggressively muttered to him, crossing her arms. Zadkiel was surprised at the open hostility she gave to the Archangel Of Death. Azrael only hummed to Uriel's response and glanced back at Zadkiel. He only produced a chuckle, seeing the Lady of Mercy nearly hiding behind Uriel's back.
"No need to worry, Lady of Light. Zadkiel would be an excellent addition to the Council. But I do want to warn you that you recently received a complaint regarding your behavior. I don't think I need to tell you how dangerous repercussions can be." Metatron's voice sounded concerned at the end.
"And It would be a real shame to see you fall down, my dearest Sister. I won't deny my Exorcists would not enjoy striking you down." Azrael also added. But Uriel knew he hides that mocking tone in him.
"Dully noted..." Uriel muttered, before taking Zadkiel's hand and guiding her away, purposefully pushing Azrael's shoulder in her way. Azrael would grumble to himself before taking his seat.
"What's with your beef with Azrael?" Zadkiel whispered to Uriel.
"Conflict of interests...and I didn't forgive him for his attempts to create a Militia of Winners for Annual purges."
"What?!" Zadkiel whispered in a slight exclaim. Uriel would only nod as a sign that she had the same reaction to Azrael's ideas. She guided her young sister to where Raphael's seat was before joining her seat, with Gabriel on the right side from her's.
Eventually, all Council Members took their seats: with the guest of honor being the last one to arrive: Michael Himself.
Archangel Michael, or Saint Archangel Michael by Humanity, is the field commander of the Heavenly Host and Regent Of Heaven on behalf of God and Goddess. He was one of the first archangels in existence and being one of the oldest angels, he is also the most powerful of them all.
Upon seeing Michael, most representatives of Heavenly Host, raised themselves and saluted to the Greatest Angel of all. Michael's authority over the angels is strong and firm, with many angels holding him in high regard and great respect. Michael is seen as an Archangel with a strong sense of justice, honor, empathy, honesty, patriotism, and innate selfless benevolence. He is a firm, strong, but powerful leader, regarded as the embodiment of conviction and the laws and regulations of Heaven.
But Michael didn't even bother to look at them as he made his way to join his siblings, taking his seat in silence. Michael's eyes would direct at Gabriel and Uriel, with a very weak (and angry) smile that would form on his lips. Gabriel gulped and cleared his throat. Uriel also felt very awkward from seeing Michael in his Angel Form. It's just by seeing Lucifer recently, it's very hard to look at Michael...and imagine it's Helel smiling at them.
Everyone in Heavenly Host knows that Archangel Michael is Lucifer's Twin Brother. The two of them are nearly identical: same face shape, same rosy cheeks, same eyes...same everything. The only distinct differences are their...personalities.
A long time ago, Lucifer was a more "expressive" Angel. He spoke a lot, made fun of everyone (much to Uriel's annoyance, and also that brotherly love), and used to joke a lot. Michael, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. in Gabriel's own words, Michael is a "typical uptight big brother".
He lacks a sense of humor and thus rarely smiles. He is quick to anger in the face of possible betrayal and can be quite aggressive both in combat and if someone plays dumb with him. It's due to the fact that Lucifer, his own brother, betrayed their Father and their family, and this left Michael to be scarred for the rest of Existence.
This leaves with one final Michael trait: his muteness. Never since his creation has Michael spoken even a word. It's probably a result of being the First Archangel. Metatron, and sometimes Gabriel can understand Michael's muteness.
Metatron would come closer to the Regent of Heaven. He glanced at Michael, while Michael didn't even shift an eye back before addressing the rest of Heavenly Host. "Our Lord Michael welcomes all of you for 1951'st Session. Lord Gabriel, would you do an honor?"
"Do I have to?" Gabriel replied, annoyed. Michael would shift his eyes to Gabriel.
"...." Michael answers.
"I know it's a tradition, Michael. But what's the point if it's not the end of times?"
"...." Michael answers...somehow.
"Alright, fine!" Gabriel finally gave up arguing with Michael. Zadkiel would glance at Uriel, who only shrugged her shoulders in response. She is also not sure how Gabriel understands Michael. She was very lucky when Uriel only had to explain the situation and Michael gave her a nod in understanding.
Gabriel would then stand up, summoning a horn to signal that the Conference was about to begin. He inhaled and blew a horn, giving a divine musical sound. it still would make Zadkiel cover her ears, too loud.
"Sorry..." Gabriel stopped and patted Zadkiel's shoulder before taking a seat, making his horn disappear. He would still look at Michael and make a "Come at me" body gesture.
"Good." Metatron nodded in thanks for Gabriel's cooperation. "Now, today's sessions is brought by Archangel Uriel's urgent news. Uriel, would you?"
"Thank you, Chancellor." Uriel would then stand up from her seat. "My Beloved ones...and Azrael ." She purposely noted her tone on him, giving that little sass. "I don't need to remind you that it's been nearly 15.130.000 Years since our Rebellious Siblings raised their hands on our Father and Mother. Since that day, The Underworld that became known as "Hell" has been forged under the fires of Rebellion. But while there was a shaky peace between us and them. I don't deny there are still elements of Hell that wish to finish what they started. Gabriel, would you continue?"
Gabriel gave a nod as he stood up. He would summon a file of copies that Lucifer had given to Uriel and Eve. Of course, now reforged from any mention of Lucifer's involvement.
"Children Of God, Lord Michael. You know Lord Regent Iblis: The So-Called "Prophet of Truth" of Hell. He slandered our Father's name. He created a false Religion of our Arch-Nemesis. He Butchered the Christian Sinners in Hell, He Genocided the Fauna of Limbo Ring. Overall, he is partly responsible for all of Hell's aggressive tendencies towards Heaven and Earth. Clearly, he won't stop until he sees everything we as Angels, love, know and care destroyed. But recently we had...earned an opportunity to silence Iblis once and for all! And so: I propose a vote on Assassinating Lord Regent Iblis during the upcoming Purge."
Gabriel would then make a pause as among the representatives started to whisper. Some were concerned, others were surprised. Even Michael's hand would form into a fist. Uriel can tell her oldest brother had none pleasure to hear that name again. Azrael, surprisingly, was silent on that matter.
"Thank you, Lord Gabriel! Now you may take a seat." Metatron ordered, he would then address the entire Council. "We now may enact a free discussion. My siblings, you may proceeded."
Azrael was the first to raise himself from his seat, wishing to address the important matter. "Lord Gabriel, if you may: please tell me how exactly you're planning to enact the assassination on Iblis? Because, I want to be sure it's none of your and Uriel's attempts to destroy my Order."
"There is no conspiracy against you, Azrael. Our Collaborators in Ars Goetia leaked information to us. The Lord Regent will be visiting Pandemonium during the Purge."
"PANDEMONIUM?!" Azrael exclaimed in shock. "You asking for my Exorcists to Attack the capital of Hell, Gabriel!"
"Not to attack but to infiltrate. Pandemonium is in such disarray that it will be far easier than you think. But I must Insist that I need your cooperation before I explain further, Azrael."
"Stop playing games with me! I know this entire Council is against me and my Exorcists. We work our asses off, making sure that Hell is kept at bay while YOU do nothing! That's why I was vocal for introducing the Imperial Guard for the annual purges!"
Everything that Azrael accused them of made Zadkiel feel anger boiling inside her from hearing all of this. If not for Exorcist Rönne, who gave a huge insight and understanding to Zadkiel, she would have remained silent. She would then stand up, much to Uriel's disapproval, who tried to stop her, but it's too late.
"You don't give a single thought on your soldiers, Azrael!" Zadkiel exclaimed. "I myself saw the Cemetery with a thousand Graves who gave their lives for your Madness! And those who lived on are scarred by the Horrors of this so-called "Sacred" War!"
"Someone, please remove this emotional Child! We don't need her type!" Azrael instead of a direct response to Zadkiel addressed the entire Council.
"Coward! At least face me like an Arch-" Zadkiel wanted to bark back, only to be stopped by Gabriel's interjection.
"Enough, Zadkiel!" Gabriel snapped in an instant, ordering her to sit down. Which she complied, but still..not happy. "We may bicker on the morality of our actions. But we also can't deny the threat that Iblis and every Demon Supremacist pose to us and Earth. That's why I want your cooperation, Azrael, to make sure we succeeded in defeating that Fallen Cherub."
Michael would also make a gesture of approval to Gabriel's words. Azrael saw that and released a breath in defeat. His opposition is now crushed, with Michael on Gabriel's side.
"I have no further comment, Chancellor." Azrael begrudgingly sat back in his chair.
"Anyone else wants to add anything?" Metatron asked the entire Council. Nobody said anything else, surprisingly. "Then let the vote commence: All in favor of the Assassination of Lord Regent Iblis, raise your hands!"
EVERYONE raised their hands. Gabriel himself was so surprised by it. Normally, you have those "But we should spray our love instead" type of Angels, he expected especially from a Cherub Representative, but even she raised her hand...Perhaps this is one of the times when both sides of Heaven's political spectrum are united in this debate.
"And so it sealed: By the Full Majority vote. The Heavenly Host will enact an Assassination Plot on Lord Regent Iblis. Lord Gabriel, Lord Azrael, you may now commence with the planning."
"Yes, Chancellor!" They both said in unison, bowing to Metatron, who returned it.
"And so in the name of our Lord and Lady: I declare this session to be concluded. Until the Next time, Angels of God. Amen!"
"Amen!" Everyone in the Chamber returned it, with the exception of Michael, of course.
Most, if not all, Representatives of Heavenly Choir with Metatron left the room, except for the Archangels, who remained to discuss personal "matters". Azrael would then pace himself towards Gabriel with Uriel and point at them.
"What's your game, you two?!" He sincerely asked them, with no patience.
"You're being paranoid, Azrael" Uriel rolled her eyes. Michael would also come up to them, listening to their conversation. By his mood, Uriel can tell he also wondered why Gabriel and Uriel did the full turn when it came to the Annual Purges.
"Don't lie to me. You can't accuse of me ill-tendencies of killing Sinners, only to agree to assassinate one Demon." Azrael pointed out. Michael also makes a slow and suspicious nod to what Azrael may have said.
"There is a difference between an defenseless Sinner and a Demon who can cause harm to a lot to us." Gabriel calmly explained, he would slowly raise his arm to give the documents to Azrael. "And Iblis is the latter one. Note the letter he sent to Lucifer."
Azrael begrudgingly takes the documents and pulls out a letter to Lucifer from Iblis to read for himself.
Your Majesty, King Lucifer of the Morningstar Dynasty.
It's no secret we hate each other, and our conflict caused a schism here at the Stygian Council.
But believe me, my opposition to you is based on the concept of why we're here in the first place.
As Regent to our True God, it's my duty to oversee the Rise Of Anti-Christ and Preparation For War Of Final Judgement.
We successfully reconquered Limbo from that Wretched King Minos. Now, we have every opportunity to strike at the World Of God's Slaves, but you delay it every time.
Keep in mind, as the more Heaven's Purges are occurring, the stronger Heaven is growing against us. That's why I insist that Our Army of Hell should establish permanent bases in your Ring.
I advise thinking it through, Lucifer. If you want to discuss it further with me, then come to The City of Dis during the Purge of 2020. The Exorcists do not venture down to Pandemonium. We speculate that for this Purge they would target yours and My Ring.
Remember: I seek only to finish what you started. Hell must be united against the Greatest Enemy in the skies. Your Cooperation with The Rest of Us is a key to success.
Yours, truly: Lord Regent Of Hell, Iblis Of Magne Inferno.
"Hmm" Azrael directs his eyes at Gabriel. "Very curious how Phenex got her hands on Lucifer's letter."
"Being a "Female" has it's perks, Azrael. I'm sure, her "charm" played its role somewhere." Uriel mischievously grinned. Of course, she lied to Azrael, but there is nothing she can do to not jeopardize Helel's deal. Azrael would again glance at the paper, noting the last part before releasing a breath.
"The City Of Dis: Hell's Own Unholy Vatican...The Heart Of Darkness itself." Ironically, Azrael sounded concerned... even today, there is little information on the Eighth Ring Of Hell: unofficially called The Ring of Blasmephy. The risks are very huge for this political matter.
"You told me once, Azrael. That you seek revenge against Satanael...maybe it's your time to do it. It's risky...but at least you will have a chance." Uriel gently confronted him. There was a pause as Azrael's eyes shifted at Michael, who stood silently and crossed arms. Michael could only do but nod to Uriel's words...best to finish it once and for all.
"Alright...My Siblings!" Azrael whispers as he turns around to face his siblings.
"Let's get this Piece of Shit!"
Heaven/The Empyrean City/Military Industrial Sector/Academy of Exorcism And Harrowing By Saint Azrael/Dormitories.
With most Exorcists now celebrating Christmas, The Dormitories are now completely empty, with only Aikaterine currently reading "The Romance Of Three Kingdoms" on her bed in the room she shares with Rönne. There are still at least 54 chapters to go... Who would have guessed Collin was such a bad volleyball player? Christmas is, without a doubt, Allahdamm's worst day ever for a non-Christian.
But it wouldn't be long before the doors to their room were opened and Exorcist Rönne walked in, a little sluggishly. Aikaterine slightly lowered her book down.
"Took you long enough, Brother." She said in a mocking tone.
"There were a few complications..." Rönne tossed his satchel on an end table and collapsed on his bed, covering his face with his cowboy hat to take at least a minute of peace for himself. "And how was your volleyball?"
"Preety bad." Aikaterine took a moment to flip the next page. "Collin is only good at saying "sorry" than catching any ball. And you?"
"Eh, visited some...old acquaintances of mine. Spend more time with Mr. Hazbin...and got to know Archangel Zadkiel."
"Got yourself a new Archangel Girlfriend, huh? Aren't you a lucky bastard..." Aikaterine chucked in a silly tone.
"Don't push it, Kate...otherwise, who is going to save your sorry ass during the purge?" Rönne returned that silliness.
"Ah, so you're going to leave this poor woman to her fate with some nasty looking Demons? You're quite a an asshole, Rönne Von Schaffer." Aikaterine continued their little game of insults with him.
"Try to be...Exorcist afterall." Rönne chuckled as he raised himself to take a seat on his bed. He glanced at the satchel, and took a sigh, deciding it's best to give it now. "And uhh...this asshole got you something."
The Exorcist then reached into his satchel and took out an Ottoman-made necklace he'd purchased earlier. It caused Aikaterine to open her mouth slightly in shock and surprise.
"I wasn't sure what you really like. And I thought you'd like some homemade jewelry, so...it's yours now." He approached her and kneeled down, insisting that she not get up. He gently laid the necklace on her hands and closed them, whispering "Merry Christmas", despite she was not Christian.
Aikaterine glanced at the necklace and could only do but smile at it...before finally breaking the monotony. "You know what? I admit my mistake: You’re sometimes an asshole, Rönne" Aikaterine jokingly grinned, causing Rönne to roll his eyes. And there he hoped she finally would change her opinion on him.
"Allright! No more gifts from me!" Rönne threw his arms in the air, not in serious too. But it caused Aikaterine to laugh, before calming herself down.
"But in all seriousness. Thank you, Rönne, really...It's very charming to think of me..."
"Hey, we are together in this. 65 years with you in service has been...quite an adventure."
"I could say the same..." She made a sigh, still not believing it's half a century now. Aikaterine without a word, jumped from the bed and kneeled to reach for something under her bed. "Well...best to reveal my surprise to you, then. By chance, you remember Knight-Major Stefan Mercian?"
"The one with big foul mouth?"
"Yeah, him. We had a little dare two months ago on who is a better shooter. Turns out..." She reached for it and pulled out what she desired. It turned out to be a gun case. "I'm a better shot." The Female Exorcist then took the weapon case and brought it to the table, gesturing at her brother in arms to get closer. "Since I don't really like snipping Demons from affar. I think you should have it instead."
She then opened the case to reveal the gun. Rönne could only do but whistle at the marvel of Heavenly Engineering:
"Beatifull isn't it?" Aikaterine patted the sniper rifle's body before giving it to Rönne to test it out.
"Not only..but a damm fine Sniper Rifle, Aikaterine." Rönne whispered in delight, caressing the surface. "This is C.C.B.T Lever Action Rifle: commonly nicknamed as "The Bane of Ars Goetia". It fires a .50 caliber, enough power to even kill a Goetian Noble. Plus, it's capable of holding 10 bullets in a feed ramp, giving a good balance of damage and speed."
"...I guess it's good then?" She shrugged as she...didn't understand anything. At least a great plus for Rönne being a Gun Expert.
"It's one of the best Heaven's Lever Action Rifles of the 19th Century, Aikaterine. Despite being decommissioned at present." Rönne then cocked the rifle's handle to confirm it was in good condition. "I can't thank you enough for this gift, Aikaterine...really."
"Heh, well that's my "Merry Christmas" to you, my brother. Enjoy it!" Aikaterine patted his shoulder before returning to her Ming Dynasty book. She would take a chance to wrap Rönne's necklace around her neck. Already, she notices how light it is. A great plus for finding a very good necklace. In between her readings. The Turkish Exorcist couldn't help but smile at his cuteness. Rönne at this point, returned to his bed, completely, now taking his attention at the Carmine Rifle as if he had been given a toy to play...in a good way.
Another 20 minutes passed while Aikaterine read her book and Rönne adjusted the scope on the rifle. The silence engulfed them until it abruptly ended.
*Knock Knock*
Both the Exorcists glanced at each other before Rönne then exclaimed.
"It's open!"
Their door was opened. It was none other than Miu Ogawa: The Japanese Exorcist, and Rönne's fellow brother in arms. He would bow in Saikeirei style: the most respectful bow you could make to anyone.
"心からお詫び申し上げます, Rönne-San and Akaiterine-Sama for disturbing you. But Tenshi Azrael announced high alert."
"What level?" Aikaterine worriedly asked.
"Level 1"
Immediately, both Aikaterine and Rönne raised in an instant from their beds, taking their stuff to join their Exorcist in a fast walk. Normally, Level 1 happens just a day before the Purge. But since it's only 5 days, it means one thing:
"Emergency Operation."
They followed Samurai Miu to the Conference Room, which was designated for debriefing. Rönne would have lied to himself if he had said he wasn't surprised when he entered the room. Not only is Azrael here, but he is joined by Michael, Uriel, and Zadkiel, as well as Eve and her daughter, Grandmaster Aclima. And then there's the legendary Exorcist Officer, High Marshal Jeanne D'Arc: the Maid of Orleans herself... all waiting for the Exorcists to gather up. Mr. Hazbin would definitely have passed out if he told him he had seen the Greatest Saint of France.
Zadkiel's gaze would shift to him, who would then warmly smile, glad to see her friend again. Uriel also noticed it and smiled at it, finding her sister's smile...adorable. Rönne could only nod at her before taking a free seat and joining the rest of his siblings.
"Holy, Allah...as it's if I'm in the presence of legendary heroes." Aikaterine murmured to him, unable to believe she had seen them all together.
"I know...good Lord, indeed." Rönne nervously whispered, especially to Michael's presence...he won't deny that he was taught not to show fear in any situation...but here...he couldn't help himself.
Within a few minutes, at least 20 Exorcists had entered the room. Their Grandmaster Aclima then addresses them after they have all taken their seats. "On behalf of the Entire Heavenly Host, I apologize for disturbing your right to enjoy your celebration, my Knights. But there was...slight change of plans." Aclima addressed sincerely, Zadkiel and Uriel nodded too, in agreement.
Azrael then steps forward to take his turn. "My warriors, there will come a time when we, the Heavenly Host, will ask you to give your lives if necessary. However, in this case, we, the Archangels, ask you to perform certain tasks that benefit Heaven as a whole." Azrael then makes a pause as Eve behind the Archangels works on a terminal to reveal the next image on the projector. It caused some Exorcists to make a slight gasp upon the revelation. "Yes, my Exorcits: Your Mission is to assassinate Lord Regent Of Hell: Iblis himself in the City Of Dis."
Lord Regent Iblis is A Demon Of the Imp Species: His horns are very curved, signaling that he is quite an old Imp at this point. He wears a black cassock: a long garment worn by Hell's Satanists and clergy of Unholy Dis, with a black mantle and Mitre. It's clear that Lord Regent is the so-called "Pope Of Hell"...
"Once a Cherub known as Al-Shaitan. He and the rest of his fallen siblings betrayed us. Now in Hell, he spewed lies of the Dark Lord, persecuted anyone who dared to oppose Hell's Religion. He is responsible for the Destruction of Limbo and Genocide of Limbo's population. I do not need to explain more that he is dangerous...not to add he is a blasmepher and a heretic!"
"Heretic or not." Uriel quickly interjects Azrael for not going into a rant. "We know that Lord Iblis will be in the City of Dis during the purge. Eve, could you?"
Eve in silence typed on the terminal to reveal the next pair of images. This time: The Pandemonium's Legend Map itself.
"There will be Two Squads Of Exorcists: Alpha Squad under Jeanne's Leadership and Omega Squad: under Grandmaster Aclima's leadership. Alpha Squad will infiltrate to Dis, through Pandemonium while Omega to the Stygian Council itself. Once Alpha Squad have dealt with Iblis, we expect less than 5 minutes for the entire Pandemonium to sound alarm."
"That's where Omega Squad comes in." Azrael quickly interrupted Uriel...much to her annoyance. "They divert their attention on them for Alpha Squad to escape Dis. After that, we commence a main assault on Pandemonium, damage the Capital the best we can before the Purge ends."
Uriel blinked twice before realizing this was not in the plan to purge the Capital. She would lean in, wanting to address it.
"Azrael, what in father's name you're doing? This was not in the plan we agreed on."
"They are my Exorcists, not yours. Best for you to comply if you want my Exorcists to deal with Iblis." Azrael quietly warned her. Uriel could only do but shake her head...pompous stubborn fool. "This is a general overview of your mission. Before I will continue, I need 3 volunteers for Alpha Squad and 3 for Omega. The rest will be part of the main assault force on the Capital."
There was a pause in Exorcists as many of them wondered. Attacking a Capital of Hell is essentially a suicide mission. But at the same time. Iblis is the monster responsible for suffering on both sides. Since joining the Order, Rönne has wished for Iblis's death...and he would be honored to put a special bullet right into Iblis's forehead...
On behalf of Limbo.
On behalf of Heaven.
On behalf of Entire Order of Exorcists.
On behalf of those who died to Iblis.
On Behalf of himself
As some Exorcists are begun to join Omega Squad. Rönne stood up, surprising Aikaterine and Miu as we walked up to Azrael.
"If it means that Iblis will perished once and for all. Then I'm joining, My Archangel." Rönne confidently expressed this to his Leader. Zadkiel didn't like it...for she knows his true intentions: Revenge is a Fool's game.
"You're doing our Lord's work by volunteering, knight." Azrael replied with a grin. Michael also nodded to Azrael's words.
"Then I welcome you to my squad, Knight." Jeanne D'Arc brought her fist to her plated chest, honoring him. "We will vanquish the Deceiver's lackey once and for all."
"Aye aye, mam." Rönne saluted back.
It didn't last long as Aikaterine and Miu Ogawa walked up to Jeanne D'Arc, saluting to her before The Turkish Woman spoke on behalf of them. "We will be joining you and our brother arms, Maid Of Orleans. We know it's a suicide mission...but if we die, knowing that Iblis is now in the Void with us...then I'm happy to accept it."
Rönne glanced at them, questioning them with his expression. Their nods solidify him that they’re joining because of him. He could only but smile at them, thanking them for watching his back. And so, both Squads are now filled up with the Finest Exorcists of the Order. The rest who didn't join were left with the Grandmaster to plan their own attack on Capital.
"Now, Alpha. We need to discuss our infiltration plan." Jeanne D'arc gestured for her Squad to come closer to the table. Detective Eve in the meantime showed the map of Pandemonium's Layout. "Obviously, an direct assault is out of the option. Not only we will face high resistance but there are will be a chance that Iblis will escape."
"And that's why a covert act is preferable." Eve explained, she then pointed at one of the regions of Pandemonium. "You would be surprised, bit the Capital allows for Sinners to enter their Ring. But the catch is: Pandemonium is 10 times worse for Sinners than Pentagram City. They have very harsh restrictions down there, on the level of Jews in Nazi Germany had to experience. Not only you must pay 30.000 Souls to enter the Capital but you're essentially choosing a Greater evil."
"What makes Sinners to go there?" Aikaterine asked.
"Simple: because of you..." Eve chuckled quietly before she cleared her throat to remain professional "Or rather desperation to save themselves from the Annual Purges. And that's how we will proceed. Alpha Squad, one at a time, will infiltrate the Capital, posing as desperate Sinners. To avoid the risk of capturing everyone, you will be separated and randevue in the Ghetto to then infiltrate the City of Dis together."
"Which brings us to another important matter." Uriel noted her tone. "Since it's very hard for even a Demon to enter a Capital Ring, there is a huge matter on your equipment. When you confront Iblis, you must remain as an Exorcist, otherwise, killing Iblis as a Sinner will have higher repercussions for us and for Hell."
"Is there any chance of smuggling our weapons and uniforms into the capital, My Archangels?" Jeanne asked her superiors.
"Yes, but the problem is: We need someone to pass this whole "Hell's Elevator Customs" process. It is best for our "Sinners" to not do that since they are not accustomed to Hell's...cultural behavior."
There was a pause as everyone thought about how they should proceed with smuggling the equipment. Rönne, in particular, wonders about one thing that could be advantageous.
"My Archangels, If say, a real sinner wished to help us, would you authorize us to collaborate with them?" Rönne broke the silence. He then inhaled more as he was about to start. "It just....I know a sinner...rather I know a Winner who knows a Sinner. She is quite capable, as she actually survived nearly two centuries in Hell. I'm sure her assist will be great."
"That depends. Who is that particular Sinner you're speaking of?" Azrael neutrally demanded. But showed impatience in his tone.
"Well, her name is Maria De LeBlanc or Marsella as she is known in Hell, My Archangel. The Winner that I'm familiar with is a relative to Marsella." The Exorcist explained. Uriel already summoned a piece of paper that holds the Mortal Soul's information and opened it to check the content.
"Hmm, it says Maria De Leblanc was a Sans-culotte, a Radical during the French Revolution, belonging to the Society of Revolutionary Republican Women...her record is pretty violent: manslaughter, violence against Nobility during the Reign of Terror...murdered a Minor Noble and brought his head on a pike...and still proud about it to this day." Uriel then flips the page. "Huh, she is a devoid catholic even now...and spoke highly of us in Hell."
"Charming...so she is a Collaborator." Azrael rolled his eyes, not amused. You never can trust a sinner to be cooperative with Heaven.
"Hmm, She still could work. She’ll be of great assistance in smuggling the equipment." Uriel made the documents disappear. "We should make contact with her."
"There is a minor problem." Rönne added. "She won't cooperate unless I also bring along her relative...because being "Grandma" and stuff."
"And name of that relative?"
"Darnel LeBlanc..." Rönne said it eerily, knowing Zadkiel would not like it. And it was true, she did show disappointment on her face after hearing this. Forcing the Winners to participate in Heaven's dirty business is too much. But again, there was nothing she could do. It's up to Mr. Hazbin to decide...but knowing his loyalty to his friend...he will 100% join.
Azrael and Uriel glanced at each other, agreeing in silence, before Azrael spoke. "As long as you will make sure that Darnel LeBlanc will be safe, then we will not mind his participation. But heed my warning: If he dies, it's you who will be responsible."
"I understand, my Archangel." The Gunslinger gave confidence.
"Good, then the problem with smuggling is done," Eve said as she came closer. "One final note, Alpha Squad. I will be your and Omega's guide and instructor during the entire operation. I will send you the full details of our plan later if you wish to review them. The Operation will be commence on December 30 and you should be at Pandemonium at Late December 31."
"And we're not going to lie, my Knights. This operation could be a suicide mission...many of you might die, be captured...or even worse." Uriel then brought her hand to her chest, giving a sense of sincerity and guilt. "I apologize on behalf of the entire Heavenly Host... we as Archangels are ashamed to send you down into a pit of Hell. But our hands are tied on this matter...and if anything happens, we will remember and honor your sacrifice forever."
"We promise..." Zadkiel also added quietly. "And if you wish for us to grant our blessing: just ask."
The Alpha Squad could only return this honor by saluting; none of them showed any anger at Uriel, only loyalty and honor to the Lady of Light. But as Zadkiel said, The Four of them would accept the Mercy's offer, starting with each different Archangel for a particular Squad member. For Rönne it was Azrael, who he walked up to his superior.
The Archangel of Death drew his hands behind him as he studied his knight, possibly reading him before speaking.
"Exorcist Rönne Schaffer. Once you stood in front of me as I initiated you into my order, remember the specific question I asked you?
"How much I'm willing to give myself into the Order?" Rönne already knew what his superior meant. "I won't let you down, my Archangel. We will bring down Iblis once and for all."
Azrael could only nod to that, glad for the strong loyalty to the Order.
"And remember, my dear Exorcist: Hell is rage, brutal and without mercy. But you ." Azrael then brought his hand to Rönne's shoulder. "You're far worse: rip and tear, until it is done."
Rönne saluted his archangel, not needing to tell him he would do it....and the next for him was Michael, who stood with crossed arms. Since he is mute, Rönne spoke immediately.
"My Saint Archangel. I know you hear it a lot, considering your role...I just want to say it's an honor to serve the Heavenly Host and you, no matter what. If something happens to us...promise us you will bring the Devil himself to his knees."
Surprisingly, Michael would lay his hand on Exorcit's shoulder. Unlike Azrael's, Michael's felt sympathetic and somehow encouraging. It wasn't until Michael smacked his fist against Rönne's chest in brotherly fashion that the Exorcist realized...The Protector of Heaven wants him to stay strong—advice from warrior to warrior.
And next was Uriel, who had already talked with the Samurai and Aikaterine. Upon Rönne coming closer to her, there was an awkward pause before Uriel then sighed. "I'm really sorry it's come to this, hon. I hope you don't hold a grudge on Azrael or on us." Uriel sincerely apologized.
"We'd never be, My Light. As an Exorcist, I know what's at stake...it's my duty."
"You may be an Exorcist but there is still a soul behind that mask, love. Don't forget you're still an individual.. always remember: to shine your brightest light is to be who you truly are, Rönne . That's my wisdom to you. Never forget who you're."
Uriel then leaned in and gave a peck to Rönne's cheek, the same way she did to Aikaterine and Samurai Miu. She knows it's a Human's gesture of good luck...and they all need for what's coming next. Rönne could do nothing but bow his head to the Lady of Light's gracious kiss.
And finally was Zadkiel, who Rönne would avoid his eyes on her. He told her in Eden's paradise that he never kills Sinners or Demons for the sake of pleasure... and yet he seeks to murder Iblis solely to appease his own rage...
"I'm sorry, my Mecry." Rönne whispered in a guilty tone. "I'm really am..."
"And am I..." Zadkiel whispered back, bringing her hand to his arm in comfort. She didn't hold any anger against him, only disappointment...yet she can't deny she is not innocent as well.
Uriel was right when she said she is ashamed...ashamed for not telling the entire truth. Zadkiel wished she could have been honest...to tell them that they're killing Iblis only because of Lucifer's secret deal with Heaven...
Zadkiel would then bring her other hand onto his shoulder, wanting to make sure he would hear her. "Promise me you and Darnel will be safe down there. Please take care of each other, my Knight."
"I will...with my own soul." The Exorcist responded quietly, nodding with a sad but hopeful smile. Zadkiel then embraced him in a tight hug, giving him all the comfort and angelic love she could give him before ending their touching moment. And so, Alpha Squad got their blessings from the Archangels.
Azrael then finishes with one final note. "It's best for you to be prepared for what's coming next...and to fulfill your wishes. Until December 30, Alpha Squad. Dismissed."
The trio of them saluted back in silence before departing from the room. Jeanne D'arc remained in place for the Omega Squads to learn about their role in the mission.
Heaven/The Empyrean City/Military Industrial Sector/Academy of Exorcism And Harrowing By Saint Azrael/Dormitories.
*A few Hours Later*
With the evening arriving in Heaven, the dawn is now upon them, changing the lights of Heaven from pure White into a Yellow blistering color. Uriel watched it from the window of the Exorcist Academy, enjoying the view. The lights of the Sun gently warmed her up, the same day when she was born...
In a way, it reminded of her a cute little story that her Mother Asherah invented just for her.
There once was a moon, as beautiful as can be, only the stars could fathom, but the sun could not see. The sun is so radiant, he burns so brightly. The moon was so luminous, but only showed her face during the night. She was untouchable, surrounding herself with a blanket of darkness. The sun would give anything to catch a glimpse of the Moon illuminating the beautiful night sky.
Until one day when the Sun was sliding out of the heavens, he caught a glimpse of her. She was peeking up, a rare side of her being exposed to the light. And while the Sun could shine, he knew the Moon could glow.
Just as the Stars were wandering into the night, the Sun fell in love like a snowball hurdling down a mountain. How he wished to see her move than the fleeting moments he shared with her at both dawn and dusk. But they were a world apart.
“Go,” she whispered to him one of those nights, her voice as sweet and sorrowful as the last light of morning. “Go and let me breathe, for you and I have decided fates. You illuminate the day, and I cast a glow on the night. We will never be. Our connection would go against what all the people believe, all they know” During the summer he would stay a little longer just in case she would change his mind. It was no use.
“Don’t you dare abandon your blessing of light for my darkness.” And those were the last words the Moon was strong enough to speak to the Sun. The Sun could feel her peaceful soul and it soon became clear. He would die each and every night to let his true love breathe, for it would put an end to all her misery.
In a way, this story is, of course, the personification of Yahweh and Asherah after the "Creation Act". They were tired enough that, more often than not, one of them takes over the mantle of Universe maintenance while the other rests. Hence, Heaven's Sun and Moon are just like them: their never-ending support for each other. While it's not true, it's still beautiful storytelling...How much she really misses them...
Heaven was never the same after the Rebellion... after the Divines left... it never was. Of course, the Archangels are now grown up and can handle running Heaven by themselves. Yet after witnessing everything, it feels like it's gone out worse. Under God's rule, everything was so simple and straightforward... Now it's bickering between her and Azrael on their own views on how should they do it right... and she doesn't know if Azrael is right...if she is right.
She is still unsure about this whole "Iblis" thing. She really wanted to help Helel, hoping he would see that there are still those who love him...and yet, at the cost of that love, she sent down those who believe they're doing right...to their double death.
Now, she can't really imagine what her Divine Parents are thinking right now... She is 100% percent sure they saw everything that happened today. While she didn't feel any repercussions yet...doubt and fear engulfed her mind, clouding it.
"Father, Mother...have I failed you?...have I always been a failure?" Uriel whispered, still staring at the Sun before lowering her head down in disappointment.
"What makes you think that way, my Light?"
"Huh?" Uriel said, before looking to the right and yelped, nearly falling down. From the left of her stands a man in a white jumpsuit with the tag "Al Mitty" written on it and holding a toolbox. She could swear she was all alone and had no idea how he could just walk in without Uriel noticing.
"Oh, for the love of my Father, hon! Don't just sneak in to a unsuspected Archangel! You could scare her!" Uriel complained in that playful manner of hers. It caused the man to make a little chuckle before replying.
"Normally it's often "For the Love of God" these days. But it's quite appreciative to hear it sometimes." Al Mitty replied with a smile.
"Well of course. He is my father that I love dearly."
"And I'm sure he loves you back with all heart he has, My Light..." Al Mity chuckled as he would take a little walk towards a halfway, stopping in midway.
"Well thank you, dearie, for the kind words. But what brings you to the Academy? Ain't you supposed to celebrate a Christmas instead of working?"
Al Mitty smirked at that. "Christmas or not, it's still a matter of maintaince. A lot of the time, Heaven needs to be double-checked. If not, the foundation would collapse. "
"That's true" Uriel admitted the wisdom in his words before adding further. "And what you're fixing?"
"In this particular case: Light..." Al Mity deadpanned, causing Uriel to blink twice. He chuckles a little at her reaction. "I meant the lightbulb, My Light. They can become so overburdened with their work of illuminating the path for the rest of us that they themselves start to have...doubts if you catch my drift."
"Ain't that truth..." Uriel nodded to herself with a smile, finding irony. "But it seems to be worki-"
*Blam*
She had barely even finished when one of the lamps' lightbulbs on the wall exploded, giving off a huge spark. Al Mity barely reacted, he only looked at it for a second before returning his gaze to Uriel.
"You're were saying?" In the end, he still made a smirk as he then walked up to the broken lamp. "Ah, nothing but a little lightbulb will fix it." The Electrician reached for his toolbox to get the new lightbulb and replaced it with a new one. Uriel at first was worried as he would get himself electrocuted from the voltage...but he didn't. He simply replaced it...strange.
"Hmm...odd." Al Mitty pondered as to why the light didn't appear. He then kneeled to remove a panel to where the cables are. "So tell me, My Light. What's brings you here?"
"Me, Eve and Zadkiel decided to help out the Exorcists with their final wishes. I was going to the one of the Exorcists before I...spaced out."
"Ah, a noble act of kindness, good..." Al replied with a proud smile. "But something tells me it wasn't done out of a random act of kindness..."
"You're right. It's just..." Uriel tried to find the correct wording. "I took no pleasure on sending them down to their deaths. But my hands were tied in the situation...and I really wish things were very different"
"Such as is..." Al again replied, taking a screwdriver to unplug the cables. "More often we do with good intentions, only to result with bad outcomes. But, there is nothing to be ashamed of it. Always admit your mistakes and learn from them...even these bad outcomes would sometimes lead into even good outcomes..."
"I know...but I'm an Archangel of Wisdom. I shine the light of my father’s truth into the darkness of confusion...and yet look at me. Time and time again, I proved how flawed I am. More often I believe in things that I know are impossible...how could I be an Archangel of Light if I'm surrounded myself in my own doubts and fears?"
Al Mity shook his head, saddened it would come to this. He would then stand up, bring his hands behind his back as he walked up to her. "Sunshine, let me ask you this. When God and Goddess created you, did they specifically told you to be their Light? Did they ordered you to serve them, hmm?"
"No, but-"
"Correct, you choose it by yourself." He quickly interjected her words. "You choose to be the Light, to help others to erase their doubts and fears. That's the beauty of this: an individual with her own thoughts and beliefs. And they gave it to you...to become what you are: An Angel Of God. I'm sure they would love you no matter who really you're, Uriel."
"What makes you to be certain?"
"And could I ask you the same thing: what makes you to be who you are? What makes you love them? Ask yourself these questions, Uriel. And more often you will find these answers in you...in your soul that is."
"I...I think I understand." Uriel gave a nod, causing Al to form an even more bright smile. Somehow, the words from Al Mitty felt uplifting. Perhaps, only now she fully understood what Eve told her a bit earlier. More often she felt she is failing her Parents to do her purpose...and yet she made herself fall into the same pit Lucifer did: to desperately prove themselves to God that they're flawless.
Maybe that's why they have a great connection with humans: not because they were created in God's image...but because they are both flawed creatures. But even that is, does it matter if they have flaws? Her love for humanity is still strong. Her love for Eve never even diminished after the fall of mankind. The same goes for her siblings. Despite her bickering with Azrael, she still worried for him as more often than not, he holds a huge grudge against Satanael rather than hating Demons...
But Al is right: what should it really matter to her that much? Even with their parents gone, Uriel would still continue to do what she herself felt right. And she will never stop offering her Light to those who carve to it...Suddenly, the lightbulb out of nowhere started to work.
"Huh, what a miracle." Al Mity commented with a mischievous grin before going in to close the panel and taking the toolbox. "Don't forget what have I told you, Uriel. Even Archangels must think for themselves...just intended as always."
There was silence from Uriel as she observed in suspicion. She won't lie she enjoyed their conversation and his help to her. But she still needs to address the important matter. Everything felt so odd about him...not only he came out nowhere, but to help her gain confidence cannot out be just a...coincidence.
"Who are you really, hon? I never saw you before."
Al Mity stopped in his walk and made a turn to back at her. He would only smile more at her before speaking. "Sometimes it so happens that someone was at the right place at the right time, Uriel. I'm not the only one who were there for you. But never lose your hope on your brother, my dearest. Family is precious...even to your Father ...and enjoy a little cupcake: your favorite."
"Cupcake?" Uriel repeated before taking a glimpse down to witness how she is holding a cupcake in her hands out of nowhere. "Wait, how did you-"
Uriel stopped herself, after finding out It was pointless: he was gone at this point. The Lady Of Mercy in her confusion, blinked two times before she returned her gaze to the cupcake, noticing the little pink flavor. Uriel did a little shrug, still accepting this kind gesture before she took a bite...and stopped.
It's a Strawberry Cupcake: Her favorite flavor.
Only her own Father knew her favorite flavor. Something is not okay with that Human...unless...
...
No, it cannot be!
There is no way he should have lied to them!... God never lies!...he specifically told them to rule Heaven on his and Mom's behalf...
...
Best to talk with Gabriel about it later.
For now, it's her duty to help out Exorcists in their final wishes.
And so, Uriel on her way finished the cupcake and found the specific room in the Dormitories. She gently knocked against the door and waited for any sound of "it's open". But nothing happened. She pressed her ear against the door, hoping to hear everything. And indeed she heard quiet and peaceful deep breaths and exhales as if he is sleeping.
She took the courage to open the door and peak out. She nearly was right: The Exorcist is sleeping, but on the chair: face planted against the table. Judging by the sheer amount of paper, he has probably struggled with letters.
Uriel gently opened the door to enter the room. Although she is in high heels, he didn't hear it. Even when she gently walked up to him, The Exorcist still didn't hear.
"Hon, wake up." Uriel carefully tapped his shoulder, no avail. She then shook his shoulder. "Wakey, wakey, my Knight. The Sunshine is here!"
In instant, Exorcist raised his hands in the air. "AZRAEL, I WASN'T SLEEPING!" Rönne blinked twice before his eyes turned at her. Uriel's smile brightened more. "Oh, my apologizes, Lady of Light." Rönne grumbled to herself. "I didn't hear you."
"Wrong Archangel, my knight...But no worries." Uriel pointed out with some sassiness. She then glanced at the pile of papers, written in German. "I see you’re busy with papers?"
"No, just a letter...nothing serious." Rönne sighed as he took the paper he slept on and throw it into a trash bin. "Been struggling since. So what's brings you here?"
"Zadkiel and I felt we could help you to fulfill your last wishes. She and I already assisted Aikaterine and Miu. It was...quite charming."
"...That's a very kind of you." Rönne nodded with a smile. "And how are they?"
"Well, Aikaterine went to a mosque and to prophet Muhammad with Zadkiel, hoping that she will be blessed and forgiven by Allah. Prophet was very kind to share his time in the Mortal world, how he also regretted some decisions. And Miu played with his Shakuhachi with me. It was...very peaceful."
"Glad to hear it...Mr.Hazbin also wrote me. He was delighted and will assist us. I could not help but think that,as of right now, he is arguing with Nädege. But I'm fine myself, My Archangel." Rönne took another paper and begins to write. "I'm very humbled by your generosity. But I think you shouldn't waste your time on me."
"Don't say this stuff, Hon. Hiding your deepest fears won't help you."
There was a pause as Rönne stopped writing and looked at the window. He would make a mocking chuckle at himself and sigh.
"I lived a bad life, My Archangel. I had a father...he passed away when I was a kid. My mother and I lived in our ranch...until she got a cancer. I watched her die in my arms...and it weren't soon enough. And yet I'm ashamed today to see her in my own eyes...and what she will think of me as an Exorcist: who in Demon's eyes is a monster...and in Angel's eyes is a black sheep."
"And that's why you're writing a letter?"
"Yes..." Rönne sighs. "I don't know what will happen to me in Pandemonium. Hence, it might be the last letter I will write to her...and I want it to mean something...but I don't know what to write."
"She is your mother: Just be honest to her, Rönne."
There was a pause as Rönne watched down at the letter. He took a pen and slowly started to write. It took him around another 10 minutes to finish it before folding it and putting it into an envelope, adding two pictures.
"Want for me to give it to her?" Uriel suggested in a quiet tone.
"...Yes, that would be my wish."
And so, without a word, Uriel took his letter, gave a nod to the Exorcist, and teleported herself away. She found herself on one of the many Empyrean Streets, just in front of the flower shop. Entering it, The Female Cashier wanted to greet Archangel's presence only to be silenced when Uriel quickly interjected.
"Frau Schaffer?" Uriel gently addressed in German.
"Ähm, ja. Gibt es etwas, wobei ich dir helfen kann, mein Erzengel?" The Female Cashier replied in slightly worried tone.
Uriel offered the letter. Ms. Shaffer accepted it, although confused. "Von Ihrem Sohn... Es tut mir so leid, dass es so weit gekommen ist."
Ms. Shaffer still worriedly opened a letter, barely than 10 seconds, it took her before covering her mouth with her hand.
Meine liebste Mutter, von Gott selbst gesegnet.
Ich weiß ehrlich gesagt nicht, was ich hier niederschreiben soll. Du weißt es doch selbst. Ich hatte nie die beste Gabe für Worte. Trotzdem musste ich dir das schreiben, weil ich das Gefühl hatte, dass es keine andere Möglichkeit gibt, dir das zu sagen.
Es gibt zu viel von allem, um zu Papier zu bringen, wie ich mich fühle, mit all den Emotionen. Man sollte meinen, dass wir als Engel von unseren Emotionen befreit wären, aber das ist nicht der Fall. Verfluchen wäre nicht das Beste, wenn man im Himmel einen Brief schreibt, oder?
Aber trotzdem... ich weiß, dass du mich trotz meiner Fehler und allem anderen liebst. Und trotz allem, was passiert ist, hast du mir immer noch verziehen. So ein Wunder kommt nicht oft vor. Ich kann nicht anders, als mich zu fragen, ob ich dort unten sein sollte oder ob ich es gewesen wäre. Auch wenn die Bezahlung gut ist, verfolgt mich dieser Job immer noch, und er ist kompliziert.
Deshalb schreibe ich Ihnen das jetzt. Die nächste Säuberung steht an, und ich wurde mit einer "Sondermission" beauftragt. Ich habe ein schlechtes Gefühl, Mom, und das liegt nicht daran, dass ich paranoid bin. Es ist eines dieser Dinge, gegen die man nicht ankämpfen kann, besonders bei allem, was in letzter Zeit passiert ist. Ich bin nicht naiv, was die damit verbundenen Gefahren angeht, aber ich kann mich des Gefühls nicht erwehren, dass dies der letzte Brief sein könnte, den ich dir je schreiben werde.
Das bin ich dir schuldig, auch wenn du mir gesagt hast, dass ich es nicht nötig habe. Ich weiß, dass du mich zu sehr liebst und dass du mir zu sehr verzeihst. Aber ich bin kein so guter Sohn: Ein guter Sohn kümmert sich um seine Mutter, auch wenn er es nicht will. Meine Sünden waren mit guten Vorsätzen gepflastert, aber ich habe viel versucht und versagt. Ich habe als Mensch nicht genug richtig gemacht. Wenigstens mache ich jetzt etwas richtig ... zumindest glaube ich das.
Ich weiß nicht, was mit mir geschehen wird. Aber bitte: Bleib einfach sicher und genieße das friedliche Leben nach dem Tod und wisse, dass ich dich liebe.
Auf ewig dein: Rönne von Schaffer
And bellow, Ms. Shaffer found the pictures of his son: One is in his Mortal Life in 1914 with his majestic stallion Adalwolf and another in the Afterlife, where Rönne was graduated, becoming a Full-on Knight in 1921. The Woman could not hold her tears before finally succumbing herself
Uriel could only but embrace Rönne's mother in comfort. Although she was never a mother in her existence, she can share some sympathy. More often, the civilians suffer the most from these feuds. Uriel hoped that Heaven would be an exception...and yet both Azrael and Hell's Kings' bickering caused these conflicts to sky-rocket...and warriors of both Hell and Heaven are forlorn by their Afterlife's.
Rönne's Letter in English:
My dearest mother, blessed by God himself.
I honestly don’t know what to put down in this. You know it yourself. I never had the best knack for words. I still had to write this to you because I felt there was no other way of saying this.
There’s too much of anything to put on paper about how I feel with all of the emotions. You’d think as an angel we would be freed from our emotions, but that’s not the case. Cursing wouldn’t be the best thing to do when you are writing a letter in heaven, huh?
But still…I know you love me despite my faults and all. And for everything that’s happened, you've still forgiven me. It’s not often a miracle like that comes by. I can’t help but wonder if I should be down there or if it would have been me. Even with the pay being good, this job still haunts me and it’s complicated.
Which is why I’m writing this to you now. The next purge is coming and I have been assigned to a "special mission". I have a bad feeling, mom and it’s not me being paranoid. It’s one of those things you can’t fight, especially with everything that’s been happening recently. I’m not naïve about the dangers that come with this, but I can’t help but feel it might be the last letter I will ever write to you.
I owe you that much even after you told me I don’t need to. I know you love me too much and you forgive me too much. But I'm not that great of a son: a good son takes care of his mother despite the intent behind his actions. My sins were paved with good intentions but I tried and failed a lot. I didn’t do enough right as a human. At least now, I’m doing something right…at least I think I do.
I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me. But please: Just stay safe and enjoy the peaceful Afterlife and know I love you.
Eternally yours: Rönne Von Schaffer
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
"Ähm, ja. Gibt es etwas, wobei ich dir helfen kann, mein Erzengel?" - "Um, yes. Is there something I can help you with, my Archangel?"
"Von Ihrem Sohn... Es tut mir so leid, dass es so weit gekommen ist." - "From your son... I'm so sorry it's come to this."
Chapter 14: The Eternal Inferno
Summary:
"You been there. You saw it in your eyes, My Queen: Pandemonium was built under the achievements of rebellion, defilement...and treachery. Yet after the Harrowing of Limbo, we are the lowest point of our existence. King Minos proved us you can't trust a sinner to rule over the Ring, same goes with Stygian Council's lack of spine. That's why Hell is what it is: A Shell of it's former glory...and we both know the real source of cancer." - Astaroth Goetia: The Grand Duke Of Hell to Beelzebub: The Lady Of Flies (1891 AD)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
December 31, 2019, AD (4 hours before the Extermination), 20:18 PM.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Pentagram City/Near the Entrance of Hell's 666 Elevator Transit.
*Tick Tock*
*Tick Tock*
*Tick Tock*
*Tick...*
The arrow of the clocks ticked closer, now at 20:20 PM. One imp demon with a large butterfly tie on his neck stood not far away from the wall where the clocks hung. He leaned against the column. Only four hours left before the annual Purge will come to bite Hell's ass, and he was wasting his time in the Pride Ring.
An imp like him should've already been in the Lust Ring. In more specific terms - in Helvana of Envy Ring with his dearest wife at this point. But he could not waste the opportunity that came out of nowhere. Considering, it was nearly-free money that he would earn if he did one specific task.
The Imp's tail twitched a bit when he heard the truck getting closer. As soon as he saw the vehicle, the Imp straightened up, coming closer to the road. The truck stopped at the edge of the road with the engines turned off before a "sinner" left the truck.
The Imp raised an eyebrow, noticing the Sinner was wearing a black tuxedo with a red vest underneath. He also noticed the rest of his sharp attire. Elegant red pants with a scarlet neckerchief, stylish shoes with white gloves, and a crimson top hat completed the ensemble.
"Sir, are you by any chance the guy that my contact told me off?"
"The one and the only, dear imp boy!" Sinner chirped in an excited tone. He was a Stag Demon, with impressive antlers at the height of his cylinder-top hat. Upon a closer inspection, he has dark red hair and an impressive bushy mustache on his top lip. The freckled imp only returned with a stressed chuckle, getting the feeling that he might be one of them .
"Right..." He made an awkward nod before adding further. "And where is the other one?"
*Tire Screeching in distance*
A Demonic Taxi car appeared on the corner of the street, making a sharp turn and going right at them. The Imp screamed in terror, but it was pointless as the Taxi missed them. It then flipped itself twice, resulting in a massive crash. Much to the Imp's horror, the taxi landed upside down and completely wrecked.
"Aha! It's about time she showed up! What a jolly good show!" The Stag Demon laughed at the spectacular entrance. The Imp Demon was still...not amused. Many and many times, the Sinners proved they could be crazier than a Hellborn would ever dream of.
The taxi driver crawled himself out, with a sickle pierced deep into his back as he tried to escape the mad woman's wrath. The back door of the Taxi kicked open, and another Sinner crawled out. Scrambling with all the energy they had left to get closer to the driver to finish their business.
1) "C'est ce qui arrive aux ennemis de la révolution, fascist!" Female Sinner exclaimed aggressively before ripping the sickle out from his back, causing the driver to lose consciousness. Wiping the blood out, she then attached the sickle to her belt before she turned to the Stag Sinner and opened her arms. 2) "Mon petit-fils, mon précieux petit-fils! Fais à ta grand-mère un câlin qu'elle a sculpté pendant un siècle!"
3) "Grand-mère! Quel plaisir de te voir en vie et en bonne santé!" The Stag Demon opened his arms as his Grandma pounced at him to embrace him in the biggest embrace she could do for him.
The Female Sinner was a scarecrow demon. She was a few inches taller than the Imp, but still shorter than the average Sinner's height. She wore a tattered peasant rag and French-like Beret with a pin of Red Hammer and Sickle drawn on it. Something that had to do with human culture, the imp could only presume. But seeing them like this...caused Imp to slightly smile...
It took them thirty seconds as the Female Sinner let go of him. She sprung to her feet, jumping up to give a kiss on Stag Demon's cheek. It didn't take long for her to turn around to greet another member of the working-class.
4) "Et qui es-tu, mon camarade?" The female sinner greeted in a full French native accent. The Imp raised his eyebrow at her before glancing at the Stag Demon.
"This is Marsella and I'm Mr. Hazbin, at your service, my Friend!" Mr. Hazbin made a dramatic bow to the imp as Marsella saluted back.
"Right..." the Imp shakes his head, ignoring these stupid names and deciding just to go straight with their business. "So I understand you want to gain access to Pandemonium, right? Some shady Sinner guy offered 500 Souls just for me to vouch for you to enter the Capital...
"Correct, my boy!" Mr. Hazbin clapped his hands once. Marsella in the meantime, put her hand on her hip, studying Imp. The Imp once again ignored their strange behavior and continued.
"Well, obviously I won't reject this kind of offer." The Imp then reveals strange Pentagram shaped badges and hands them both. "So here you go."
"Huh, intriguing..." Mr. Hazbin examines the badge while Marsella shows disgust on her face. On the badge, it says "SINNER" and the way it's labeled is...as if it's a badge of shame....looks like we are back into good old hatred of species just because they have different characteristics...What a disgusting system Hell employs...
"Well, that's the rules." The Imp makes a shrug. He again looked at the clock to note the time, and with every tick, he gets more nervous for himself. "Look, I have to leave this Ring. See you around."
Imp proceeded to walk towards Elevator 666 before he heard Mr. Hazbin's voice again.
"Wait, you didn't tell us your name, friend!"
The Imp Demon stopped and again turned to face them, now in an awkward position. While he won't lie these two are quite nice to him, he wasn't going to let his guard down. That got a lot of stupid demons to bite the dust. He didn't want to know if they were cannibal whackjobs who were only friendly for the sake of getting closer to their prey.
"Oh, um... Listen, I really need to get out of this Ring because the line for Elevator is getting longer and longer. But not long ago, my boss had the stupid idea of selling pamphlets, threatening me that he would forever refer to me as a "Bitch Boy" if I wouldn't do it. I can give you the pamphlet. If you need more of our services later."
"Delightful! Thank you, my good man!" Mr. Hazbin returned with a smile. Marsella crossed her arms as she observed Imp, already seeing some "red flags" raised over that Imp to her. Goddamn capitalists...
The short Imp returned to them and offered a pamphlet card to Mr. Hazbin. The quiet imp waved his hand for the final time as he entered the Elevator Station, disappearing from their sights. The Frenchman took the opportunity to check the pamphlet, already admiring the honesty.
"We kill shit for you!"
- Imp City, Street 652, Top Floor.
"Huh, what a nice Imp chap!" Mr. Hazbin commented to himself. Marsella although, she rolled her eyes in annoyance.
5) "Il n'est qu'un esclave de son patron oppresseur, un exemple parfait du système pourri du capitalisme." She commented to her Grandson.
6) "Eh bien... vous devez survivre d'une manière ou d'une autre. Je doute que son espèce soit mieux traitée que les créoles des États-Unis d'avant la guerre civile." Mr Hazbin makes a shrug, taking a glance at his truck. 7) "Ne faisons pas attendre notre Ange Gardien plus longtemps."
Mr. Hazbin tapped the back of his truck and climbed into the driver's seat, while Marsella sat on the passenger seat. Starting the engines, he drove his truck down the road marked "Entrance to Customs Checkpoint." On Elevator 666, the most important factor is, of course, the import and export of shipments from other Rings. As a result, they have a separate Elevator Custom's Service for vehicles.
Turning his truck to the left, he came across a checkpoint where some imps were awaiting the "examination" of their vehicles. The lines for Lust Ring and Envy Ring were twice as long as the others. They must be a popular destination when the Purge arrived. And somehow, it was weird to find out that The Line for the Capital Ring was...empty. Only an imp Immigration Inspector sat in his booth, dying from boredom. Even weirder was when Mr. Hazbin drove his truck towards the Capital Ring Line. Some imps looked at him with shock and profound confusion. It was a disturbing sight, to say at least.
The Immigration Inspector also raised his eyebrows as the truck stopped at the checkpoint line towards the Capital Ring. He made a shrug to himself before he left the booth and walked up to the truck, climbing it to face the unexpected fools. The Inspector was, of course, an Imp...but somehow...different. He had two fangs poking out from his upper lips. He was pale, and his pupils were bloody red. He could be another sub-species of Imps.
"Well, well, well...what do we have here? Not only do some have the audacity to venture down to our "Glorious Home Ring" but Sinners, no less...Oh, my Dark Lord." Imp Inspector snickered in devilish delight. But then he takes a serious look. "You know the rules: All Sinners must remain in Pride Ring by order and will of Lucifer Morningstar. So turn around and get fucked or something!"
"Oh, we all know that, inspector Imp. But we have the permission that allows us to leave the Pride Ring." Mr. Hazbin replied, providing proof of the paperwork.
"It's Inspector Vampire Imp to you. Fine, show me your documents...Sinner." Imp said in the last part, as if it was a dare.
Mr. Hazbin reached for his glove compartment to get the permit. When the Stag Demon revealed it, the Inspector snatched it from his hands to check the content. His blood red eyes almost bugged out in shock that he checked over the papers twice.
By order of Lucifer Morningstar, Stygian Council, and Devil's WIll.
Sinner(s) named Mr. Hazbin and Marsella will be permitted towards Capital Ring for "Holy Weapon Dealership"
Duration: 1 day
Sinner(s) are obliged to follow the Rule of Stygian Council until further notice. Failure to follow the rules will lead Sinner(s) to abide by the laws of Hell.
The Capital Punishment will range from: Execution, Hanging, Exile to the Ninth Ring of Hell, Crusification, and many more.
May the Eternal Fires of Inferno burn to the end of Times.
Signed by: Lucifer Of Morningstar Dynasty
(Vampire) Imp grumbled as he looked at the Sinners in disbelief. He still can't believe they have the permit. First, it was the Pride Ring, and now the Capital Ring is slowly getting infected with these pests. Eh, more cattle for Pandemonium Nobility.
"Shmucks, Killbane. Check the truck!" The Inspector commanded the others before returning his eyes at them. "To the checkpoint, you two...and don't forget the rest of your permits..."
With a nod, Mr. Hazbin solidified his acknowledgment. The main inspector then jumped out to continue with his duties as Mr. Hazbin and Marsella left their truck.
8) "Quel connard..." Marsella grumbled to herself.
9) "On ne peut pas vraiment lui en vouloir." He shrugged, slightly agreeing with her.
The other Inspector Imps arrived and climbed up the truck's back to check the content. The French Merchant gulped to himself as the hardest part of this entire thing began. He could only do but pat the truck's back, muttering it to stay strong. And so without any delay, they entered a very small square room with two Guards and a hallway with a sign that said "Inspection Booth". Mr. Hazbin noticed a rather unusual thing about Hell.
The Architecture was Heaven(ish).
Back in Heaven, most Architecture uses fancy mosaics and murals. And, it seemed that 666 Elevator was not an exception, due to the presence of apple and angelic wings decorations in the architecture. Strange to think that Hell reuses Heaven's Architecture. Must be that Lucifer himself stole it to spite Heaven. Or it could be that he clung to his angelic side to this day that all his Domains used Angelic Architecture.
His eyes directed at the sign for the inspection booth: the nightmare of any border crossing. That one-time trip to Nuevo León in 1893 was enough for him to acknowledge how horrendous it could be.
10) "Alors... qui est le premier? Vous ou moi?" Mr. Hazbin asked his Grandma, looking down at her.
11) "Tu commences, mon garçon... ta grand-mère a besoin... d'un peu de temps seul avec ce gentleman bourgeois... hehe!" Marsella snickered in a very devilish manner at the end. One of the guards didn't like the way that Sinner laughed and gulped from this.
12) "D'accord, je vous attends dehors" Mr. Hazbin gave a nod. He took a sigh, gaining the courage with the hope that it won't be that bad. Hope dies the last, they say. And thus set his foot inside the inspection booth...
It turned out to be worse than he thought.
Behind the glass window with a slight opening bellow, sat an aged-up Imp with an impressive beard. He even barely reacted when Mr. Hazbin entered the inspection booth. He looked at him as if there were few things that surprised him. He paid the stag demon no mind, but only his eyes tracking his movement. The Frenchman blinked two times as the two of them didn't say a word. He felt he could at least greet him...who said that you must not be polite even in Hell?
"Why hello-"
"Papers please..." Imp interrupted him, with a very bland and not carrying tone.
"Right..." Mr. Hazbin gave an awkward chuckle, reaching for his pocket and gave him the passport. Courtesy from Heaven itself.
The Inspector took the passport and opened it to inspect its content. At first, Mr. Hazbin thought that it would be quick. He doubted Hell even cared about this stuff...but nope. It took around ten minutes as Imp's eyes shifted around his passport.
"Permit?" Inspector mumbled, taking a second to glance at Mr. Hazbin.
Without a word, the Frenchman laid his permit for the Inspector to take it. And back again...Inspector checked the second round of paperwork. Darnell sighed to himself as he waited in boredom. It took another twenty minutes for the Imp to inspect it. Even in the 19th Century, it was easier to pass the border.
"Badge?" Imp asked with no care.
And again doing the same dance, Mr. Hazbin laid the badge that Short Imp gave him. Well, at least this time it took him took him ten minutes.
"Tax cut?"
Mr. Hazbin closed his eyes for a second before laying 30,000 Souls on the table. Rarely did it happen to him when his annoyance began to form up, but he tries to keep it at bay. Jophiel said that patience was a virtue, and he especially needed it now.
"Authorization?"
"...how about I give you everything I have, dear boy?" Mr. Hazbin suggested with a "fake" smile, almost to the end of his rope. The Inspector shrugged at it, not minding it.
And so, The Stag Demon laid everything he needed to pass the border:
Identity card
Diplomatic authorization
Work Pass
Grant of Asylum
Security/Medical verification
Certificate of Sinner's Duration in Hell
Lucifer's "I love that Sinner!" Card
Ars Goetian Certificate of Approval
Verification from 7 Deadly Sins.
And Finally...
Certificate of "I wasted everything to leave the Pride Ring! I'm desperate :( !"
Even after laying the last one, Mr. Hazbin didn't feel any slight relief, knowing it will take him for a while.
*At least 1 Hour Later*
At this point, Mr. Hazbin's left eye twitched in annoyance. The Imp was very slow with his job, many times he glanced at him to make sure there were no errors or differences. For Christ's Sake! No wonder Sinners can't venture down to other Rings! If they have to go through this, all of this exhuberous amounts of redtape? It was best to just embrace some Exorcist during the Purge and deal with it. But as if the Archangels or God himself blessed this forsaken soul of Eternal Damnation, he heard that beautiful sound .
*Stamp*
He blinked twice, unbelieving of what he had just heard. But his disbelief only crashed completely when Inspector hands over all the documents back, with the passport having the "Approved" stamp.
"Welcome to Pandemonium..." Inspector again responded with no care. Mr. Hazbin just took all of his documents and passed the inspection booth. He whispered "Yes" to himself, glad that's over. But it's up to Marsella to suffer it now.
"Next!" Inspector Imp pushed a button on his microphone, prompting the next fool to come here. Upon seeing the next one, Inspector's eyes slightly opened up as he saw her. He nervously gulped from seeing a horrifying scarecrow thing, stitched together.
"P-papers please..." He stuttered at the beginning. Marsella, although shorter compared to her Grandson, leaned forward...causing Inspector to lean back in response.
13) "Non..." It's the only thing she said to him in a very disturbing manner.
"...okay, fair enough." He just stamped her hand with a seal of approval to pass to Pandemonium.
14) "Oh, ok!...Merci, ma chérie." She completely changed into a charming lady manner, blowing an air kiss to the inspector before she walked out of the inspection booth.
Inspector made an awkward wave as that...wild thing left the booth. He let out a heavy breath, feeling relieved that he would be alright...Until he heard this .
*Chrik-Chrik-Chrik*
Looking to the left, his printer printed a purple little paper. He quickly ripped out of it to check what was going on:
M.O.A Citation
Protocol Violated.
Identity Card: Pupils of the suspect are different sizes from the passport picture.
Fine: 500 Souls
Glory to Inferno!
"Pfffffff...!" Inspector's hands clutched the paper as the rage began to build up...which he then let it go...as King Satan intended.
"FUUUU-!"
*Meanwhile outside*
Mr. Hazbin waited outside, staring at his truck as Inspectors examined his vehicle. He can presume it will take more time, same with how the inspection process was to him. But he was surprised when Marsella joined him.
15) "C'était rapide!" Mr. Hazbin pointed out, baffled a little bit. His Grandma chuckled at that before responding.
16) "Il a été gentil pour moi de passer par là. Ça marche à chaque fois" Marsella shrugged.
17) "Oh, toi. Tu ne cesseras jamais de m'étonner, grand-mère." Mr.Hazbin smiled at her.
18) "Hé, les LeBlanc sont une famille fière et ils doivent s'adapter pour survivre. Je n'ai pas élevé ton père pour qu'il soit la salope de la classe supérieure!"
19) "Des mots pour vivre, grand-mère!" Mr. Hazbin slightly laughed back. Grandma Marsella pinched his cheek in response, showing her affection to him. Their little happy note, unfortunately, had to be interrupted as one of the inspectors with a tag name "Shmucks" came up to them.
"Sinner, tell me why in the Devil's name you have eight mortal-body-sized containers."
"Why wouldn't I?" Mr. Hazbin raised his arms in the air. "Black Market of Holy Weapons is a Jolly Good revenue!"
"But that doesn't explain the size of it, Sinner." Inspector Shmucks gritted his teeth and pulled out his baton stick. "I won't repeat it again: What-is-in-the-containers?"
The atmosphere around them turned hostile as some guards took their attention at Mr. Hazbin and Marsella. They cocked their assault rifles to indicate a threat to them and their readiness to fire. Marsella took out her sickle, ready to defend the honor of the French Revolution. Two centuries here in Hell must have taken a toll on her if she thinks she can handle the entire Pride Ring's Border Guard. As for Mr. Hazbin, he preferred to exist the next day to see Nädege once again...and so, he decided to do it his way.
"The LeBlanc Way"
"Alright, alright, you got me!" Mr. Hazbin raised his arms in defeat, causing Marsella to look at him in confusion, not understanding his intentions by surrendering to them. Seriously...not a great time for French stereotypes.
"Ha, I knew it!" Inspector Shmucks chuckled in glorious victory. "So what are you smuggling: Angel Dust's Home Videos, huh?"
"Actually!" Mr. Hazbin smacked his lips, raising his finger to correct the inspector. "I'm the Secret Collaborator who, under the order of Heaven, needs to smuggle some Exorcists to the Capital Ring in order to cause chaos and suffering to the Demons of Hell."
There was silence for a moment as Inspector Shmucks horrifyingly turned to the other guard. Another inspector with the tag name "Killbane" peaked out from the truck's back, also scared by this news. But upon turning back to Mr. Hazbin, who had only just smiled at their reaction, his fear turned into confusion. But once Mr. Hazbin started to chuckle, before it turned into a laugh, Inspector Shmucks also started to join in, slowly chuckling.
"Got you, didn't I?!" Mr. Hazbin laughed.
"You got me good!" Inspector Shmucks also started to laugh at it. Killbane only produced some fake laughs...as he planned to just run away if it was the truth.
"Got you indeed, my boy!" Mr. Hazbin laughed before he returned to his charming and kind manner. "But in all seriousness: I'm transferring some rocket launchers towards the Nobles of Pandemonium, hence the huge crates. Come on, it's pretty obvious! You both know that you and I are trying to make a living in Hell. I'm an arms dealer while you're a customs inspector. In fact, you and I are doing Go-I mean Devil's work: you by protecting the rings from unexpected threats, and me by allowing Hell to gain an upper advantage against Heaven!"
"Well, you could say that.." The Imp makes a shrug, although he is slightly flattered by Sinner's words.
"And, as you can see, I have to get out of the Pride Ring as soon as possible. I want my King to be ready for these unwanted pieces of filth. Nasty...smelly old Exterminators. OH JOLLY THE FILTH THEY ARE!" Before calming down, he ensured that everyone has heard what he has to say. "How about I offer a tribute to you in exchange for which you will...turn the other cheek on the inspection, so to speak?"
Mr. Hazbin gestured for the inspector to follow him as he came closer to the back of his truck. He climbed on it, making the other inspector look at his colleague, to which he gestured to stand down. The Frenchman aha-ed when he found what he was looking for and showed it to the inspector. It's a jar of blood, filled to the top.
"Why would I need that?" Shmucks gently shakes the jar, watching the blood flow smoothly.
"Your boss is a vampire imp, right? Since Caina is under prohibition laws, Think of the opportunity if, say...you, my friend, presented this gift to your boss." He hinted with a mischievous smirk. Inspector Shmucks hummed, understanding the Sinner's intention. The Frenchman would still give him the jar of blood, as the inspector was in his thoughts, before finally deciding.
"Killbane, stamp and paper, please."
His colleague jumped out of the truck and gave him the piece of certification and a stamp. Shumcks, without delay, stamped the paper and slammed it on the truck's left door.
Approved for the Transportation to
Home Ring: PANDEMONIUM
"Welcome to Pandemonium, Sinners. Hope it was worth it in the end."
"Thank you, my imp friends. Hope you enjoy the day...despite the Purge arriving...hehe." Mr. Hazbin waved his hand in goodbye as the Inspectors returned to their posts. They took no time to return to their truck, glad that the hardest part was over.
20) "Quel spectacle, ma belle!" Marsella cheered. She kissed his cheek, proud of that trick he had performed. In her case, she would still prefer to send them to the guillotine...just a proud Jacobin would.
21) "On ne m'appelle pas Con Artist pour rien." Mr. Hazbin laughed, before putting his ignition key to leave this place once and for all.
Starting the engine, he drove past the boom barrier and to the open doors of the Elevator's 666 Lift. There were multiple lifts but all fenced from each other, for security reasons. Entering inside, the Darkness set in as the Elevator's doors closed in. At least 30 seconds later, the lights turned on with the elevator intercom going on.
"Elevator 666 departing for Pandemonium in-"
5
4
3
2
1
On 1, Mr. Hazbin and Marsella's surroundings began to rumble, as the Elevator began its descent. The rumble stopped with a glimpse of light appearing in a few instances as they were being transferred.
"Now passing Second Ring: Wrath, Los Satanio."
Mr. Hazbin hummed to himself in wonder. As of today, Dante Alighieri was known to be Cartoghaper of Heaven, who explored Hell with his companion Vergil back in the day. He was responsible for Winner's knowledge of how Hell's Geography works.
"Now passing Third Ring: Gluttony, Beelzehaven."
But to this day, it was still unknown if Hell was really stacked up as Rings or if it is just a metaphor. From Heaven's perspective, Hell always appeared as Distant Planet with a moon. You could see the huge Ocean, Deserts, even the Southern and Northern Pole which always has...extreme weather conditions.
"Now passing Fourth Ring: Greed, Mint City...All Rights and Trademark belong to G.R.E.E.D Corporation."
That would explain why Limbo Ring is accessible to Pride Ring. Between Pride and Limbo's borders was the Acheron Ocean, named after a Famous Ferryman of Hell. But the Acheron Ocean was very dangerous, due to the pollution of Pride Ring. It had enough chemicals to erase a Sinner's body at momentary notice.
"Now passing Fifth Ring: Lust, Crystal Stadium."
And how strange was it that at this point Limbo wasn't integrated back into Hell?
"Now passing Sixth Ring: Envy, Levitowne. Attention: By the will of Leviathan Von Eldtrich. All Spirits of Ars Goetia is prohibited from setting foot on Envy Ring, unless approved."
They could have built the Elevator for Limbo Ring already.
Now passing the Seventh Ring: Sloth, Dreamsville.
Makes him wonder as to what is happening on Limbo Ring since...that faithful day.
"Now arriving at Eighth Ring: Blasphemy, Pandemonium.
The elevator abruptly stopped, giving a little thump to them. It caused Mr. Hazbin to hit his head against the truck's ceiling.
22) "Oh mon dieu! Fais attention, mon pauvre. Où est-ce que ça fait mal?" Marsella worriedly yelped,
23) "Je vais bien, je me suis juste cogné la tête" Mr. Hazbin rubbed his head. The lights went again out with the intercom activated, delivering one final note.
"Welcome home, Hellborns. Pandemonium and the Diabolical States greets the Children Of Devil."
The massive doors of the elevator opened, and the outside world greeted them with snow and cold temperatures of the Ring. But that didn't deter Mr. Hazbin, who started the engines and moved his truck away from Elevator. But as they exited the elevator, they both looked around, unable to believe what they saw. On Earth, there were numerous rumors and legends about this place. The Myth of the City in Hell: a city that laid the groundwork for what became Hell. A location where Eternal Damnation began.
And here they were...
The Capital Of Hell
The City Of Demons
The Heart Of Hell...
Pandemonium was a megapolis, both a modern, medieval and ancient city combined, with its skyscrapers that are 10 times taller than New York. Some buildings were 100,000 years old, while others were months in age. It was hard to think if Pandemonium rivaled Empyrean. But no doubt it wasn't that far away.
In strange irony, the climate was very cold compared to Pride Ring. The terrible turbulence of the snowy weather caused Mr. Hazbin to turn on the wiper blades from severe snowing. Driving through this was already going to be enough of a challenge. Not far away stood two Demons, wearing black knight-plated armor. One of them held a Demonic Spear while another held a Rifle. Upon seeing the Sinners, one of them couldn't help but smirk at it.
24) 
25) 
The Other shrugged, before showing his palm for Mr. Hazbin to stop. The Frenchman stopped his truck where the demon pointed at. The Knight then finished. 26) 
The two of them walked up to the truck. One going to the left side and another to the right side.
27) "
" The Left one spoke to Mr. Hazbin.
The Frenchman blinked twice, processing the words. It's sounds like some kind of Latin. His Latin was a bit rusty as he never went to Catholic Church that often, but recall some instances when those....nuns taught him some Latin in spare time.
28) "Um...Ego amare...Deus...Diablos?" He tried to reply back.
These two Demons laughed mockingly back before one of them wheezed out and responded. "Pathetic! You live in Pride Ring and yet you don't know our language. No wonder the False God and his Pigeons sent these Exorcunts to deal with your kind!"
Mr. Hazbin remained silent on that, preferring not to respond to racism...or is it Sinnerism? Regardless: hatred for Mortal Souls of Hell. Something told him it was just the beginning of his experience of Pandemonium. Already seeing that he won't bite the hook. The Demon Knight of Diabolical States, then, addressed this on a serious note.
"Show me your bloodpact!"
"My bloodpact?"
"Your badge, you imbecile. (to himself) Devil, what morons these Children of False God are..."
Mr. Hazbin just handed him the badge that Imp from I.M.P gave earlier. The Demon Knight then opened the badge to take the blood and licked it, tasting it for validation. "Okay, imp blood. Checks out."
Returning the badge, the Knight then said one final word. "Now, Sinners. While Pandemonium allows your kind for "Temporary Resolution" in "Pride Problem" you are still bidden by the laws of Pandemonium. That means: No Mortal beliefs. No Mortal traditions. And anything that associates of any Religious Manners in Mortal World is FORBIDDEN here!"
"What about Holidays?" Mr. Hazbin asked.
"Absolutely forbidden!"
"Why? It's an atheistic celebration."
"It's a Heresy what it is! The Diabolical States forbids any worship of False God, including the so-called "atheistic" celebrations that your kind loves to hide your true intentions."
"We don't call this "Blasphemy Ring" for nothing." The other Demon responded calmly. "Off to Ghetto where you belong, Sinners. And don't dare disturb the Vampire Nobles here in Pandemonium."
"Duly noted..." Mr. Hazbin finished with a nod, while Marsella winked at the Knight on the Right side, hinting that she might...come back. And so, The Frenchman drove his truck away from the Knights and into the deep streets of Hell's Capital.
The residents of Pandemonium are a bit weird. On his way, he saw some Succubi, Imps, and Fish-like creatures, roaming the Pandemonium. Most, if not all, are all paler, their fangs are poking out and their creepy bloody eyes showed disgust as they saw two Sinners on a truck, driving near them.
And then there was also sights of the disturbing kind. The streets were pretty rundown, some buildings closed or boarded up. The walls were plastered with Pro-Hell Propaganda with various themes. Like depicting an honorable Demon protecting Little Imp from Exorcist and another how you better not to be a Heavenly Collaborator. Yet, even more disturbing, was that some of the shop's front doors had these weird signs.
"Heretic"
"Defiler"
"Sub-Demon"
"Collaborator"
And so on.
At this point, even Marsella was finally getting a memo about why nobody wanted to go to Pandemonium. The Guard Towers. Boarded roads with Gates. District divides with walls. The existence of the Ghetto for Sinners. All of this meant one thing: Pandemonium applied Segregation Laws. Or perhaps it even reached the levels of Poland's occupation by Nazi Germany.
On Pride Ring, Pentagram was anarchistic at best. But here on Home Ring, Pandemonium was a wet dream of Totalitarian Society. Limited freedom. Marsella's expression showed the disgust from seeing the state Pandemonium was. The so-called "Glorious City Of Demons" exploited and abandoned by their own Leaders. In a way, it was an image of Hell's Tyrannic System: another form of Fascism and No boundary Capitalism. Hell needed to sooner or later wake up. If they claim that Inferno was an Afterlife from the Tyranny of God, then they must make it true. Making it true by revolting against the Seven Tyrants of Hell.
They soon arrived at the Ghetto, which was...something to say at least. Again, Pandemonium fenced the ghetto with tall heights of wire. The conditions were bad, with the buildings at best boarded up or completely in ruins. One of the Sinners, who saw the truck, could only shake in disappointment. Another pair of fools who in desperation traded the evil...for the greater evil.
They stopped near the entrance of a hotel, with a very simple and creative name: Hotel. It seemed the Blasphemy Ring had some lack of creativity in their pockets.
Mr. Hazbin turned off the engines and left with Marsella their truck. The Cold of the Ring attacked him with its bitter bite and sting.
"Oh, boy. So cold." Mr. Hazbin exclaimed, not expecting it to be that cold from outside.
"You get used to the cold. If it doesn't kill, then perhaps the mines will, friend." Someone said from the left. Turning to that direction, it was another sinner. It had a humanoid body, but was completely covered in ashes. "Names Asher. I was told by my client to deliver some of your crates to the specific locations in Pandemonium."
"Hazbin. Pleasure, my dear friend." He offered his hand to Sinner. Asher stood in silence for a moment, slight confused with the kindness. Rarely do you see this kind of manners in Hell and especially on Pandemonium. Hell lacked manners in all honesty. "I take it your client paid you already?"
"Yep, decent for Pentagram standards." Asher responded with a nod, he then turned around to gesture to some other Sinners to start working. "My boys will deliver your crates."
"Thanks..." Mr. Hazbin smiled, before gesturing to the surroundings. "So, what brings you...here?"
"Same as you, I suppose. Tried to escape the Purges on Pride Ring and thought to myself if Pandemonium allows us to be here meant something good. But my dreams blew to shit...as you can see what the state this city is."
"And you can't leave?"
"No, in most, if not all, cases, you are will be placed in "Temporary Slavery," either to a Noble or to work in "Dark Materium" mines. The same is true for Imps: if you aren't a noble or a "Pure" Demon, you are nothing more than a dirt pile for Capital Ring. At the very least, Exorcists don't bother us here."
"Yeah, hopefully." Mr. Hazbin let out a nervous chuckle followed by a very awkward nod. "But thanks for the assistance with the crates, I appreciate it."
"Hey, the Client paid us. How could I say no?" Asher explained with a sigh at the end, before shrugging. "If you need anything else, just holla and bring the money. I'm mostly around here in this street."
"I will think about it..." Mr. Hazbin gave a goodbye nod before the Sinner joined with the rest to deliver the crates to the other truck not far away. He then directed to Marsella. 29) "Grand-mère, tu peux t'occuper de la malle de notre ami?"
She gave an air kiss and thumbs up, a signal she would handle it. Hazbin also took a small case from the trunk and took his walk towards the hotel's entrance. With a sign hanging that it's open, he opened the door to enter inside.
The reception room was a very small square room with a Female Vampire Imp sitting near the desk, watching some kind of Drama show on her TV. She didn't bother to look at him, still busy with the television. Yeah, it's not a "Star" Hotel with how the cracked walls were and the water leaking from the ceiling. But it's far better than how some Sinners lived in tents outside.
"Um hello?" Mr. Hazbin asked her as he walked up to the desk, there was no response from Vampire Imp. "Yo-ho." He waved his hand. At the very least, she did look at him for a second and back at the TV. He also noticed a bell ring on the table and decided to use it if she wanted to play this game.
*Ting*
...
*Ting*
...
*Ting-Ting-Ting-*
"Alright, alright! Can't you just let me finish watching the episode first?" The Vampire Imp threw her arms in defeat.
"Sorry for that, mon-chere..." Mr. Hazbin played with his gloves, awkward in his motion.
The Vampire Imp made a sigh and turned off the TV, now taking her full attention at him. "Tell me the duration of the day, Sinner. If you can't afford it, not my problem."
"Room for two. Just a day." Mr. Hazbin answered.
"And who is the other?" She demanded.
Her wish became fulfilled as the front door kicked open. The blizzard invaded the room with Marsella grunting and screaming, dragging the huge crate inside. The owner of the hotel raised her eyebrows and looked at Mr. Hazbin, expecting an explanation.
"Arms-Dealer." Mr. Hazbin gave the female imp a flawless smile.
"...In that case: 2000 Souls. + 1000 if you want no questions from me."
Without a word, he reached for his pocket to give her the money. Laying them on the table, the Vampire Imp then grabbed his money and dropped keys in exchange.
"Stairs on the left, room number on the keys..." It's the only thing she said before turning on the TV, continuing to watch that Drama show.
Mr. Hazbin took the keys and left with no questions. He then joined Marsella in dragging the crate up stairs. It took them at least two minutes of dragging the crate in halfway, reaching their room finally. Number 14. Opening the room with the keys, he expected it to be in bad condition. And alas, his instincts were right on the money. Demonic roaches, cracked walls, and the bed was only a mattress on the floor. But they both were resilient, and it's not like they weren't in poor conditions before.
Dragging the crate inside, they took a moment to rest, with Mr. Hazbin taking a seat on the floor.
30) "Eh bien, c'est un voyage intéressant." Marsella chuckled.
31) "Pour sûr..." Mr. Hazbin smiled with a nod. Even now, he still could not believe he was in the Capital of Hell. So far it was a walking Hell-Hole even to Hell's standards. Empyrean, while can be criticized for being a Ecumenopolis of Heaven, is at least maintained by Heavenly Covenant in very Good conditions...
Taking a glance at Marsella and then at the crate. Mr. Hazbin released a breath as he raised himself and came up to it. Kneeling, he prayed that everything was right and well. Only by opening the crate that Mr. Hazbin cemented his faith...he could not help but thank God.
"Welcome to Pandemonium, my boy! Jolly hood show to see you alive and well!"
And indeed. When Mr. Hazbin improvised with the Inspectors of Pride Ring's Guard. He played a double card on them: He made fun of that he transferred the Exorcists to the Capital Ring as a ridiculous statement.
But in truth...
He wasn't lying.
"Yeah, A fine dandy first-class trip, no less." Rönne grunted with slight sarcasm, blocking the light with his left hand. Mr. Hazbin offered his hand to help him out of the crate, to which he gladly accepted. When he stood up, Rönne froze himself, feeling the sudden urge of - without a warning, the Exorcist rushed to the window, opening and letting him vomit out, resulting from all that shaking inside the crate.
"Go and throw yourself into Devil's Eye, you fucking drunk asshole!" Some Sinner screamed down below where he is. Rönne had to reply on that.
"Fuck off! I've a blessed rifle!" Rönne barked back.
"Oh, fuck!" The Sinner below him got scared ran away as quickly as possible.
"Come on, just a take second..." Mr. Hazbin cooed as he and Marsella helped Rönne to guide him to the mattress, making him sit down and just relax for a second. Marsella also sat down near him, just in case he needed her help.
"It's been ages, Hera Maria. So good to see you, again." Rönne greeted her through some sighs, still adjusting to himself.
32) "À vous aussi, camarade Rönne. Malgré votre amour constant pour tuer mon espèce. Je suis toujours heureux de vous voir vivant et en bonne santé." Marsella responded, with a giggle.
There was an awkward silence as Rönne didn't understand anything she said to him. He only knows English, German as his native, and a little bit of Russian and some Polish. But when it comes to French, it was a rare occurrence to hear it in Texas. And of course, since he was German, he could not have learned French for...Pretty Self Explanatory Reasons
And so he opted to look at Mr. Hazbin, hoping he would translate it.
"She is...glad to see you as well." Mr. Hazbin awkwardly explained. No need to provide details on that. The Frenchman then used the crate to take a seat on it, he makes an amusing hum, noticing something new in Rönne. "You look well in your form, my friend. That bird aesthetic fits you well."
"My form?" He repeated in confusion before it hit him. Without a say, Rönne stood up to check himself out in a cracked mirror. And just as he thought...since he is a Mortal Soul...it checks out.
When it comes to Hell and Heaven: their fabric of reality changes the soul's appearance. As such, Rönne's "Sinner" Form or rather his Soul Form in Hell is that of Avian Demon: Similar to Raven or a Crow. He now possesses a short black beak, replacing his human mouth, black skin with the feathers now covering his entire body, his hands became clawed and avian-like, plus his tail was now a lower coat much to his annoyance. He could only but grow at himself, now having to relieve himself with his form...again.
Because of their black plumage, croaking call, and diet of carrion, The black-feathered birds were considered an omen of bad tidings and ill, even to the point of association of death. In Texas, he remembered how his mother died in his arms, and then a Crow watched him from above as he buried her in City Cemetery Of Texas, now called Oakwood Cemetery.
And his past actions...symbolized Revan's depiction. Wherever he went...ill-omen arrived, and death followed him. People died around him and he was selfish, ignoring everything just to survive. Even now as an Exorcist being as Raven Sinner, even more, makes it clear...his presence is a bad omen. A harbinger of death before the Purge commenced.
Ironic and fitting...
"Back to good old times..." He whispered to himself, clenching his fist to accept this form for now. Obviously, with some of Heaven's technology, he could have switched his form in an instant. But since it's in operation, it's preferable to blend in...for now.
"Eh, at least you're a bird...could have been a snake or a vulture from one perspective..." Mr. Hazbin makes a compromise, hoping that his Exorcist Friend will accept his new form. "So, my dear boy. What's next for all of us?"
"Now that you both did your part...." Rönne took a minute to walked up in order to open a suitcase that contained some of his stuff. He took his rancher hat and put it on. Mr. Hazbin found it appealing that the feather of his Fallen Loved One fits his form well...symbolic, he could even say. "It's up to us to start our own."
The Exorcist then took a wrist gauntlet and earset, putting them on too. He opened a panel on his gauntlet, which turned out to be mini computer device. From Marsella's point of view, it explained to her as to why Heaven wins the so-called "Long Game"...with the advantage of these such technologies.
The Gunslinger calibrated his wrist computer and requested a direct link to the E.O.P before transmitting the code. "Central Command, this is Exorcist RS-XIX-14: Codename "DeadEye", sending the authorization code."
*Static*
"Central Command, do you hear me?"
*Static*
"Just what we need right now..." The Exorcist sighed, closing the panel on his wrist. "Blasphemy Ring must be blocking every transmission from in and out...Which means there is no chance to continue with our operation."
"So we stuck here?" Mr. Hazbin asked sincerely.
"The Exorcist never arrives at Hell unprepared, Mr. Hazbin." Exorcist chuckled, finding it adorable. He then grabbed his two pairs of "Blessed" Revolvers and put them into his holster before grabbing two knives for "just in case" situations. He gestured for his friend to follow him. "Let us see outside to analyze our situation."
"Grand-mère, garde la chambre, d'accord?" Mr. Hazbin asked his grandma. Obviously, the older LeBlanc gave him a thumbs up.
And so, The Exorcist slightly opened their door to peak out, making sure that the coast was clear. And so, after concluding that everything was fine, he and Mr. Hazbin left their room, reaching for the stairs.
The Stag Demon grabbed Rönne's arm, silently warning him there was a nasty Vampire Imp over there. He nodded before now pondering what to do. Now, for obvious reasons, Murder is the first solution...considering his job. But when it came to Pre-Purge time, discretion and non-lethality were advised at this point. If someone might suspected him to be an Exorcist. He had to silence them if necessary for the sake of keeping "The Acheron Accord" active in favor of Heaven's leverage against Hell.
Otherwise, Hell might learn that Exorcist murdered a Sinner or Hellborn even before the Purge. It then can be used to break the "Acheron Accord" and gain a Caucus Belli against Heaven...no need to be genius to realize it might lead to...serious repercussions.
But thankfully, that Imp Vampire whom Mr. Hazbin talked with earlier off, stood up from the chair and left to the backroom. They both used this opportunity to leave this Rundown Hotel and go back outside. And so, the warrior of heaven witnessed the glorious capital of Hell, in all its twisted manner. He wasn't surprised that Pandemonium was rundown in its condition, to the point it was just laughing stock for Heaven to look at that.
From what the intel that Mother Eve brought to E.O.P Pandemonium had a very existential crisis. While it was the Capital of Hell in all its name...it's not the TRUE Capital of Hell.
Pandemonium, also known as Old Ars Goetia, was the capital of Hell and located on the Eighth of Hell. It was the site where the fallen angels crashed themselves after the War in Heaven. Their fall caused massive devastation here in the "Home Ring", starting the Underworld to become what it's now: Hell.
It was a city where the Fallen Angel Lucifer and the 6 Kings of Sins resided, each owning their share of Pandemonium. But as time passed, they went in each direction, not satisfied with their share. It paved the foundation of the "Ring System", where each King of Hell owned a share of land, with their will being law.
In the end, Lucifer chose to relocate his capital city to the newly founded Pentagram City in 5031 BC: his favorite eternal pet project. In an unanticipated irony, he found ruling over "sinners" rather than demons amused him. Way more than it should. He left Chancellor Adrammelech of the Stygian Council to rule Pandemonium on Lucifer's behalf.
But in reality, it only confirmed the downfall of Pandemonium. Due to the Seven King's lack of interest in their home capital, Adramelech's passive rulership, and the Diabolical States' trying to carve their influence into Demon's home city, the capital became what it is today.
Rönne then directed his eyes at the Sinners who were trying to survive. He couldn't help, but sigh at these bastards, pitying them. An exorcist in disguise, it was obvious to him and them how brutal his organization had become. But to the point that they traded everything they had to leave Pride Ring and instead get "this" was...pitiful. Looking at how Sinners were "welcome" here at Home Ring confirms that nobody cares about Pandemonium any longer. Irony at its finest.
But he won't deny that the Home Ring is not completely bad. The Stygian Council at least made sure that the Home Ring was "secured" from any threats. Thus, Heaven didn't have any information on the capital's defenses, army stations, and so on. Azrael himself dreamt of a day when he would burn the capital down to the ground. And today, with Heaven's infiltration of the Capital Ring, Heaven's long awaited retribution will finally get its due.
The Exorcist looked up at the rooftops of buildings. Knowing that Hell was not advanced compared to Heaven, they must be using old technologies such as "Tower Silencers" to block any signals. The million dollar question: where exactly?
"Mr. Hazbin, My boys are on their way to transfer the crates." A sinner named "Asher" walked up to them. Mr. Hazbin raised his top hat in thanks, while the Black Bird remained silent, observing Sinner's every move.
When the Sinner noticed the black bird, he inquired, "Must be new as well, huh?"
"I could say the same thing to you..." Rönne spoke in a simple manner, not trusting the damned soul.
"How so?" Asher crossed his arms. He titled his head, as if challenging the exorcist to guess.
"Look at them..." He gestured at the Sinners. "Dirt on them, in rags, treated as slaves. Compare them to you. You look like you're a king among them."
Asher chuckled at that. He then smacked his lips together, making a little sigh. "Alright, what's your name, friend?"
Rönne's lower lip slightly moved, as he remained silent at first. Now, about Hell. Sinners tend to hide their names to avoid any..."unsettled things" from the mortal world. Obviously, he had to come up with a name to hide his true nature...
"My name's Krey..." Rönne lied, staring at the Sinner with a cautious look. Mr. Hazbin raised his left eyebrow from this...finding it weird that he chose this name..."
"Well you got me, Mr. Krey...but we have to make an opportunity every now and then. Obviously, I would never decline the offer my client gave me...and yet I didn't even finish my part..."
Rönne...or rather "Krey" grumbled to himself. Of course, something felt off about that Sinner. Too vague, too intrusive, and too...bold. Asher's last hint solidified his true intentions. And so Gunslinger slowly walked up to Asher. The Sinner remained stoic and didn't move, staring at Black Bird's One Eye.
"Our friends here use some kind of jammer to block any external communication. Any suggestions to disrupt it?"
Asher let out a hum. He looked around on the safe side before responding. "There is something: a bunch of police guys in strange black uniforms installed some antennas here in the ghetto very recently."
"Wait...police? They have the police here!?" Mr. Hazbin quickly interjected, surprised to hear that.
"They claim to be cops, but they are merely tormentors and persecutors of Sinners in Pandemonium... and a little insane in their beliefs. Better for you to avoid them." Asher let out a nonchalant shrug at the end, used to all of the chaos down in this part of Hell. "Now from here, you can't see the antennas. You have to climb up the building to see them. The problem is, if you even deal with one jammer. There are still a lot of them around the Pandemonium."
"It won't be a problem, I assure you. So how can I get onto rooftops?"
"Just an alley over here, good gaps for you to climb up. There is also a ladder not far away, but...best not to use it as the police are protecting it with full checkpoints and whatnot."
"Got it, thank you. Let's go, Herr Hazbin" Krey made a nod of acknowledgment to Sinner's collaboration. He then turned around to where the sinner pointed and proceeded to it.
He and Mr. Hazbin walked away from the sinner and went into a small alley, opening and closing the rusty gate behind them. On their way, they remained silent as Rönne focused on finding the gaps that Sinner Asher mentioned. Mr. Hazbin tried to combat the cold as best he could, only to break the silence between them, wanting some explanations.
"Why back to "Krey", my friend?" Mr. Hazbin breaks the silence.
"Krey means "Crow" in the old Germanic language...felt appropriate." Rönne smirked, also enjoying the irony.
"Huh, never thought of that." Mr. Hazbin nodded to himself, admitting to the choice of the name and making the mental note. The stag demon changed the subject, wanting to hear his opinion. "And speaking of weird names, Asher was kind of an odd fellow, I say!"
"He is a collaborator. I had my suspicions about the way he was cordial to us...I was right at the end."
"It must be something nice that he promised to help us." The Frenchman pondered aloud, causing the gunslinger to chuckle in response.
"Duh, his life in exchange for collaboration with Heaven. It works in our favor every time..."
They eventually reached the back alley of some ghetto street. Nothing interesting here. Only some crates, trash lying around everywhere and there were no windows. Only a small balcony. Due to harsh conditions in the Ghetto, the walls of buildings began deteriorating, producing very good gaps for Krey to climb up.
"You're not going to climb up, are you, dear boy!?" Mr. Hazbin showed concern in his tone. "I feel like you could just fly up with your wings."
"Too risky: even if I have black wings, they are still angelic. It's best for me to go the old fashion way."
"But it's impossible. You can't just use the gaps to climb up!" The Stag Sinner pointed out, gesturing with his finger at the wall. At first, Krey looked up before he returned his gaze to Mr. Hazbin, smiling. If he was a squire, he would have agreed with his friend. But 100 years of service in the Exorcist Order taught him every viable method, some of which could be useful for emergency situations.
"It's best for you to walk back a bit." Krey playfully gestured with his head for Mr. Hazbin to do it.
The Stag Demon did so and walked back a bit. The Exorcist fixed his shoulder and took a deep breath before he sped up and ran towards the wall. He used his leg to throw himself at a wall hard enough to spring off, before gripping the wall gap to make him hang.
"Jolly good show, my boy! Where did you learn this?!" Mr. Hazbin exclaimed in profound surprise, but with genuine pride.
"They always say: Nothing is true, everything is permitted, my friend!" Krey shouted back, using the gaps to climb himself up.
"What!?"
"Ah, just a joke in my circle. But it's part of my training: imagine someone injuring your wings to the point where you can't fly any longer. Or, in some cases, you must take the position without alerting the Sinners to your presence. That is why we can both fly and climb the walls."
"Makes sense!" The Frenchman chuckled a bit.
In the meantime, the Exorcist climbed up to the balcony before using it to reach the rooftops. He gave a thumbs up to Mr. Hazbin that he would handle it from here. He then examined his surroundings. With the snow, it was a bit harder to notice anything. Thankfully, a red beeping light a few building blocks away revealed it to him. And so, with no delay, "Krey" used parkour to get himself into the Tower. The layout of the ghetto was very simple, making it very easy to reach. There are a few guard towers with lights illuminating their surroundings. The snow was tense enough in favor of the Exorcist's advantage.
Now, reaching the tower, there was a ladder, a bit rusted but sturdy enough for him. He used it to get himself up, expecting that the worst was over...
*Metal Crack*
Yelping, he quickly reacted to get his hand to the antenna's frame before the lower parts of the ladder detached. It crashed against the rooftop with a loud thump. No doubt it will get someone's attention if he won't hurry.
33) "Scheiße, zu nah." Krey cursed at himself. He jumped up to get his hand on the upper parts of the ladder, returning to climb up as quickly as possible.
At the top, he now has a good glimpse of the city, especially at the Stygian Council. The Stygian Council was a mushroom-looking building, very huge and a main landmark of Pandemonium. The exterior of the Stygian building consisted of a large courtyard known as the Plaza, which displayed the seven statues of the Inferno's kings. Not far away was the City of Dis, peeking out with its tower. From here, he barely saw it, but it seemed to be that Dis was built around a huge crater or a hole. It must be the "Devil's Eye" that the Sinner mentioned earlier...
Wasting no time with the operation, he reached the panel, which seemed to be a terminal for the antenna's configuration. While he barely knew how to work with...computers, It's very good that E.O.P came prepared with Heaven's operation.
He reached for his satchel to get out a round-shaped device called: E.M.C override. The name spoke for itself. It could get into the systems of any machine and send direct access towards Heaven's main systems. And again, when it came to technology, Heaven always had the upper advantage over Hell. The LED Mask on Exorcists was an insignificant invention compared to what God's Afterlife provides...
Attaching the overrider to the panel. He reached for his wrist gauntlet to pull out a cable and attach it to a port. With a slight delay in breaking the firewall of Pandemonium, the wrist screen showed that the override was now complete.
"Central Command, can you hear me?" Rönne used his earset to speak.
"This is the Central Command of His Holiness. Please identify." Someone finally said something in his earpiece. When Rönne heard the voice, he almost let out a laugh. He did feel a slight despair that it wouldn't work, and they would have to put a bolt on the operation.
"Central Command, this is Exorcist RS-XIX-14: Codename "DeadEye", sending the authorization code. How copy?"
There was a slight static in his earset before it became clear once again.
"Confirmed, Exorcist RS-XIX-14. Congratulations on reaching Pandemonium alive and well." The voice of Mother Eve heard it inside his earset.
"Much obliged, Mother Eve. Status report back at Home?"
Lower Heaven/"The Eye Of Providence" Headquarters.
Even in times of peace, both Heaven and Hell were always in their eternal long war. Both factions sought to gain the upper hand even outside direct confrontations. And sometimes, Earth became a victim of Hell's attempts to disrupt Heaven's influence on Earth.
And that's where The Eye of Providence came in. They specialized in three actions: gathering, processing, and analyzing national security information. From all three planes of existence, they kept tabs on current events. They made their intelligence reports through using human intelligence and performing covert actions.
Unknown to the Earth's Governments. The E.O.P since its existence, made sure that Earth played the narrative of Heaven and combated any demonic influence on God's Children. The prime example had been the creation of Lady Beelzebub's "Black Death". She aimed for cutting humanity in half and disrupting the Catholic Church's influence on Medieval Europe. With the help of Archangel Raphael, E.O.P secretly provided a "cure" to stop the Black Death. In so doing, it paved the foundation to the future Renaissance.
Even WW2 was not left untouched as some infamous paramilitary groups in Nazi Germany became the cultists of the Devil. The sinister cult sought through the "Holocaust" to bring Judgement Day to Earth. Little did they know that even Atheistic nations like the Soviet Union were not immune to Heaven's covert operations.
Detective Eve especially saw the E.O.P in full action for most of her existence. To think that the History of her Children had been a playground of both opposite afterlives felt...peculiar. The current circumstances proved to be both depressing and somehow inspiring. Hopefully, maybe someday, humanity would be united under the flag of peace, prosperity, and tolerance. Until then...Heaven had to make sure that Earth was being guided to the right path.
In the Observation Room, Detective Eve sat near her desk, watching the holographic projection of Hell. Fixated on the white dots on the globe, who were projecting the Exorcist's locations. It seemed that both Alpha Squad and Omega Squad were already spread out, with Omega now getting close to the Stygian Council.
Both Archangel Uriel and Azrael were there as well, observing the projection. Uriel played with her locks, still nervous after what happened twenty hours ago. Even now, the words of her parents swirled in her mind as she tried to understand them. Azrael on other hand, held his hands together behind his back, with a stoic and patient mask. Since arriving at E.O.P with Grandmaster Aclima, he had been silent and patient as he observed the projection of Hell.
"All according to the plan. Thanks to you, we now have direct access to Pandemonium's Grid System. We will try to assist your and Omega Squad in any way we can." Eve explained in her headphones. She then gestured to one of the Agents to begin the decryption of Pandemonium's Security.
"So, what next for Alpha Squad?" Rönne asked.
"There have been minor changes: We struck a deal with one of Pandemonium's Hellborns. She will assist you and Exorcist Aikaterine in gaining access to the Underground Railroad. That's where you will rendezvous with the rest of your squad, get geared up, and begin the operation."
"Any information on the Railroad and our Collaborator?"
"For the Railroad, they are old catacombs predating to the Ars Theurgia Era of Pandemonium. When you get there, follow the red line as many enslaved Imps used to escape their slavers. As for our Collaborator: she is a succubus but preferred to remain anonymous if we want her cooperation. To find her, recall the code phase. "Reaching for the light." She will understand it..."
"Got it...as for our Mr. Hazbin and Marsella, what about them?"
"Once the purge starts, you and the rest of the Exorcists will have a chance to pick them up. For Marsella, she will be safely brought back to Pentagram or to Limbo Ring, just as we agreed on."
"Understood E.O.P. Proceeding with the operation. Over and out."
"Godspeed." Eve ended the direct transmission. Abel made a proud hum. He had some doubts about whether it was even possible. But so far it's all going to go according to plan...
"I told you they are capable, My Archangel. Sooner or later, Iblis will get what he deserves."
Archangel Azrael only looked at Abel before returning to the projection of Hell, staying silent. He expected "results" when it came to Exorcists.
"Do not underestimate them, my son. The Diabolical States are very good with twisting their tongues to influence Hell. Fanaticism and Heresy can be a formidable opponent to us." Detective Eve added. She switched the channels before speaking to her microphone. "Omega Squad, report your status."
"Alive and well down there." Aclima sounded in her headphones. "We've managed to secure the abandoned warehouse and are waiting for the annual purge to commence."
In one of the warehouses at Pandemonium, a squad consisting of three Exorcists and their Grandmaster, were preparing for the showdown. The Trio of Exorcists inspected their silenced blessed weapons while Aclima leaned against the wall with her hand on her ear set, talking with her mother.
"Good then. When Alpha Squad deals with Iblis, begin to assault the Stygian Council to push away some heat from them. And if you can, secure anything valuable in the Council: documents, photos, clues. And so-on."
"Got it." Aclima then pauses, making a little growl to herself. She didn't want to push it to her...but she needed to know. "There is something else. From what I see, this is a home ring of "Vampirized" Demons. I can't trust my sisterly intuition, but...I feel... he might be here, mom."
Detective Eve blinked twice before she realized what she meant.
"Mother?" Aclima sounded concerned. Even though it was a while ago, Aclima knew her mother, but there were things that even the First Woman cannot hide her grief from.
"It doesn't matter. It's not time for some petty revenge, Aclima. Just continue with the mission." Eve bluntly ignored her daughter's words...or tried to. She closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before returning to the operation. "I will notify you when your time starts."
"Understood."
"Take care of yourself, my girl." Detective Eve pushed the button to close communication and relaxed against the chair, releasing an annoyed breath.
"What happened between you and your son should not haunt you forever, Eve. It only leads to even more grief and sorrow." Uriel walked up a bit and kneeled to meet Eve's eye level, addressing her wisdom to the First Woman.
Eve remained silent, not even looking at Uriel's eyes, something that The Light of God would prefer is that she faced her fears.
"I'm sorry, Uriel. I just...can't."
"Mom..." Abel wanted to comfort her, hoping that she understood Abel is here for her. And there is nothing more that will separate them.
"I know, Abel. I know..." Eve nodded, before straightening her back, resuming her observation of Hell's Projection. "But enough of past tears. We must focus on the mission."
"I agree with her, Uriel." Azrael mumbled, implying that Uriel should do the same. The Light of God shot a frown back at Azrael. For the sake of the civility and unity of Heaven, she decided to remain silent.
Hell/Blasmephy Ring/Pandemonium/Sinner's Ghetto District.
Ending the call, Exorcist Rönne switched the channel on his wrist pad, making sure that the rest of Squad was okay. "Scourge, Samurai, Maid of Orleans, checking the transmission, over."
"Loud and clear, Deadeye. I'm getting to your arrival position." The Exorcist "Scourge" responded on his ear set, causing Kray to chuckle.
"Hope our Friend's bad driving wasn't severe for you, Aikaterine."
"Eh, my ears are ringing a bit...and this cold is too much for me..."
"Cut the chatter, you two. Find the entrance towards the Railroad. We will meet you there with your equipment. Over and out." Jeanne D'Arc sounded in their earset.
"Understood, Mam. Proceeding with my assignment." The Exorcist then pulled out the cable and ended the transmission. He took a sigh before climbing down, using the frame to carefully descend back onto the rooftops. And like earlier, he began to return back to where he and Mr. Hazbin had separated.
Eventually, he returned to where the Rusty Gate was open, and back to near the entrance to that Hotel. Mr. Hazbin with Sinner Asher, nervously stood near the truck, observing in discrete concern.
"What's the matter?" Krey comes up to them, wondering what is going on.
"The Tormentors have arrived." Asher gestured with his head in the direction for him to look at.
And indeed...Blasmephy Ring is not called for nothing...for the heretic themselves arrived a bit farther from the street. All of them wore some kind of dark twisted religious clothing, with couple of Hellborn guards in decorative armors.
The Clerks of Diabolical States held some Sinner at gunpoint with their demonic swords. One of the high-ranking Clerks walked up closer to the group of Knights. One of them bowed to him before speaking.
"Devil with you, Lord-Inquisitor Rykard. We found out that this Sinner had hidden cross made of wooden sticks in his possessions."
The Knight then handed the cross to their Inquisitor. The Prosecutor of false faith smirked at how pathetic the cross was. In the end, he just crashed as an insult to a Christian Sinner.
"Heaven once again shows how pathetic they are trying to stop us, knight. Bring him here."
The Knights grabbed the Sinner and dragged him to where their Inquisitor pointed at. The Sinner was held to the ground as the Officer pulled his Demonic Sword, before addressing the rest of the Sinners.
"I know you can hear us, Slaves of Heaven. Look at this pathetic being...is this truly the so-called followers of benevolent God in the skies look like?! How mighty the fallen!"
"Please...I'm just religious. I didn't done -"
*Slash*
It was so sudden that even Mr. Hazbin flinched from the sound of a sword. That Sinner barely even finished when Inquisitor beheaded that sinner, bringing the second death in an instant.
"Up there, Heaven doesn't care for you, my dear Sinners." Inquisitor made a snickered laugh, watching how scared the Sinners are. "Why? Because their so-called "Great Paradise" up there is a FARCE! Do not be deceived by their lies, brothers. Here In Hell, Your True God shall bring judgment upon these defilers when the time will come. Suffer not a angel to live."
Despite him trying to brainwash the Sinners, no one bought it. All of them stood there, staring at the Clerks in disgust and horror.
"Of course...heresy grows from idleness." The Inquisitor growled at himself, sheathing his sword back. "Search the area for any of those...disgusting imagery they use. Send the rest to me...I will make them repent for their virtues."
With a simple bow, The rest of the Diabolical Guard spread out to search this district. Krey couldn't do anything, but glared at them in disgust. This was both insulting and demonizing...rarely he wished to bring judgement for tarnation against their Lord.
"Now you see why nobody goes to Pandemonium." Asher muttered in defeat.
"No doubt..." Krey shook his head, watching how one of the guards began to harass a Sinner, interrogating him. "And they're too sloppy..."
"Ah, glad to hear it." Asher recognized that he was successful. "Well, looks like I did my part...now I demand my reward and maybe even repentance for my sins..."
"Don't push it. You're still a Sinner who tarnished our Lord's Righteous." Krey warned him, causing Sinner to nervously back away. "But Heaven will give the light to those who will assist us regardless of their sins. So as promised: here you go."
Krey reached for his satchel and took out a strange Christian Cross: a cross of pure white material. He handed it to the Sinner. "It's a Mark Of Friendship. By wearing this during the Purge, any Exorcist is bidden to not attack you, even if you walk in their presence."
"So it means..." Asher suggested, could not believe he had heard.
"Yes, you're now safe from Purges in Pentagram." Krey explained.
If it was a different circumstance. Asher would have jumped and screamed with delight. AT LONG LAST! His major issue in Pentagram resolved itself. All that remained was that the path to Overlord-ship became more...open. While Asher was daydreaming, a Demonic Nightingale appeared on Horizon. In an instant, Rönne recognized her and smiled warmly.
"Huh, it seems our Turkish friend arrived." Mr. Hazbin expressed the delight.
"Hello, boys. A fine day to share cold weather with you." Aikaterine greeted them. She then gestured at the dead body not far away from them. "So what did I miss?"
"Nothing good..." Krey vaguely explained, before changing the topic anyway. "Ready for us next step?"
"Yeah...but it will be hard for us to find that Succubus among the Sinners. This ghetto is huge."
"There are not many Hellborns in the Ghetto, my friends. Excluding the owner of Hotel, there is also a Succubus Prostitute hangs out in the corner, just on the left. But Everyone avoids her...for obvious reasons. But that's your problem now." Asher interjected them. He then waved in goodbye, now that he had done his part, and went his merry way.
Aikaterine and Rönne looked at each other, both thinking that it might be her. The Gunslinger then directed his attention at the Frenchman, who still watched the body of that Sinner. No one even bothered to move it away.
"Herr Hazbin. We will need to tell Marsella about our next move. Come with me."
"...Okay...yeah...sure." He made a weak nod, still not recovering from what he had seen earlier. And so, the two Exorcists with Mr. Hazbin walked up to the entrance to the Hotel. They soon heard screaming and shouting as they got closer. And, this is what happens when you leave Marsella alone for a long time. She will find trouble. Opening the main door, the first thing they saw was how Marsella and the owner of the hotel were arguing, both to the point of wanting to fight.
"Stop speaking gibberish and tell me what's your problem, bitch!" Vampire Imp screamed at Scarecrow Demon.
34) "N'élevez pas la voix sur moi, jeune fille! Je suis déconcerté par le nombre de conditions dégoûtantes de votre hôtel." Marsella then slammed her fist against the table. 35) "1000 âmes juste pour une nuit?! C'est juste cupide et une définition de la folie capitalists!"
"For the last fucking time! Speak English or shove a Frog down to your cunt, you fucking Frenchy Sinner!"
This was the last straw before Marsella pounced at Vampire Imp and began to beat her up. But despite the Sinner winning, her Grandson and The German Gunslinger with the help of Turkish Nightingale, rushed to stop them and drag Marsella out of the Hotel, preferring to not make things complicated.
"Eat shit, Sinner! Hope the Exorcists will shove a spear down your throat!" The Vampire Imp sneered at Marsella.
"Je t'aurai la prochaine fois, salope fasciste!" Marsella screamed back as she tried to fight the trio. But in the end, they managed to drag her out, asking her to calm down. Still angry, she did at least listen еруь somewhat before she then grabbed a rock and threw it on one of the Hotel's windows, destroying it.
36) "Grand-mère, que s'est-il passé?" Mr. Hazbin tried to be civil in her struggle.
37) "J'en ai marre des démons comme elle! Regardez ce qui se passe ici: génocide, génocide, génocide! Et elle nous demande de payer 1000 âmes pour une nuit. C'est pourquoi nous devons construire le communisme en enfer et renverser la tyrannie des Sept Rois." Marsella screamed in French.
Unbeknownst to them, one of the Priests, an Imp, heard the tantrum not far away. His "face" showed disbelief, before deciding to come to them.
38) "Talis ira in illo peccatore addo." The priest commented as he approached the group. "Tam rarum est videre iram Satanae tam fortis in daemonibus non-Ellborn. Forsitan adhuc tibi, mortalis, occasio."
"Eh?" Marsella uttered, confused by the priest's cryptic words.
The priest couldn't resist a chuckle at her evident lack of understanding.
"Ah, of course. Sinners are too dumb to understand the High-Satanic language or read the Satanic Bible. But fear not, my dear. I'll simplify it for you in plain Satanic. It's about time someone enlightened your feeble mind about the Devil's own lordship over you. Let us begin from the start."
The Priest flipped his book and opened to start his sermon.
"In the beginning was the Void, and the Void was with Devil, and the Void was Devil."
"Oh, for Christ's sake." Rönne muttered to himself unable to bear the absurdity of the situation.
As the Imp Priest continued his blasphemous sermon, the atmosphere grew increasingly awkward for everyone involved. Marsella looked bewildered, Mr. Hazbin seemed uncomfortable, and even Aikaterine appeared slightly perturbed. The Priest, absorbed in his fervent preaching, failed to notice the discomfort settling over his audience. He continued with zeal, emphasizing the devilish twist to each biblical tale. It was an unexpected and absurd experience, to say the least.
Amidst the bizarre sermon, Rönne exchanged a glance with Aikaterine, both silently agreeing that it was time to make a graceful exit. He discreetly handed Mr. Hazbin a butterfly knife with a mischievous grin, a gesture that conveyed, "You might need this."
They carefully began to inch away from the peculiar congregation, attempting not to draw attention to their departure. However, Mr. Hazbin noticed their discreet exit and, with a mixture of disbelief and mild panic, gestured towards them with an expression that clearly communicated, "Are you seriously leaving us with HIM?!"
In response, Rönne made a reassuring gesture, nodding subtly as if to say, "You got this, just keep him busy...I gave you an knife for a reason." He then gave Mr. Hazbin a thumbs up, a gesture intended to convey confidence in his ability to handle the situation, no matter how absurd.
Feeling somewhat abandoned but determined to make the best of the situation, Mr. Hazbin turned his attention back to the continuing sermon. Priest delved into yet another demonic interpretation of a biblical story, Mr. Hazbin couldn't help but exchange an exasperated look with Marsella, who seemed equally perplexed by the unfolding spectacle...it will take them a while.
Escaping the possible worst sermon ever, the two Exorcists of Heaven went their way with the mission. Just as Asher said, they turn left onto one of the streets, both long and wide. Pushing forward, they would stumble upon the target they sought.
The Succubus was a young Hellborn female, and also had very pale and sharp fangs poking out from her upper lip. Could be a vampire from her complexion. They already saw some "Vampirisied" species of Hellborns. It was very interesting how exactly they became vampires.
When the two Exorcists walked up to her, the succubus only blew some smoke into the air with her cigarette, before finally speaking. "Huh, not bad. Nice tits, sugar. Decent for a sinner. As for you, stud...hmm, I think some will like "Ram Ranch" aesthetic." Succubus complimented in sultry.
"Ram Ranch?" Krey repeated in confusion.
"...Oh, sorry. It's just a joke." Succubus giggled at herself. She then finished the cigarette before taking it seriously. "Alright, buds. 500 souls for threesome. +100 if you want...to spread your love on my face."
"We are not here for that. In fact, we...are...well...Reaching For The Light."
The Succubus at first chuckled, somehow thinking it should have been more grand or something. "Huh, I expected my client would send someone more impressive." She then straightened her back, gesturing to them. "Alright, the deal is a deal. Follow me, love birds."
Rönne only shrugged at Aikaterine before they followed the Succubus in silence. She led them to a staircase that goes down to a door. Entering it, it revealed that it seems to be an old wine cellar or cellar that kept alcohol in huge barrels. Judging by the state of the cellar, it seemed to be at this point abandoned or forgotten.
The Female Succubus guided them to the end of the cellar room. On the left, there was a metal plank that she then moved to reveal. There is a slight hole that leads to a dark tunnel. It must have been what Mother Eve told them about.
"And there you go: These catacombs, as far as I know сonnects the entire city. Some say it's haunted by the past and can be dangerous...But that's your problem, not mine. Now my reward, please."
Krey reached for his satchel to give the Cross, the same one he gave to Asher, and tossed it to Succubus. She caught it, no problem, before winking in silence as she departed their presence. The Two Exorcists awkwardly stared at the dark tunnel, feeling tense.
Goddamn, haunted dark tunnels...Just what they need right now.
"Well, Gott mins uns." Rönne whispered to himself as he took the courage to crawl through the hole. He entered the tunnel first with Aikaterine following behind him. He took out his flashlight to light their path, and together they went forward. In the darkness, they stumbled upon a lantern on the floor. Aiketinre took it and lit it with her light to provide more comfort in the surroundings.
Even barely entering inside, Krey already had enough of these tunnels. He had enough of the darkness that felt as if it was closing in on him. He couldn't tell exactly what he felt right now. Tense...fear...suspense? Even with Aikaterine, it felt unnerving to walk among the dark tunnels that must have not been used for millennia. And yet...he still felt as if he was...watched from a distance.
"Notice the distinct shape of the tunnel? It must be dating to Old Ars Goetia times." Aikaterine muttered behind him.
"Yeah...and more or less are Catacombs for Lowborn Hellborns." Rönne pondered back at her. "And still it doesn't make me feel-"
*Flashlight blinks*
"-safer." Rönne finished his sentence. His flashlight blinked twice before it...stopped working. He shook his flashlight, still nothing. Even all of their electronics stopped working...for some reason.
"Well, shit..." Aikaterine cursed as well.
"Alright...let's play this game then. Aikaterine, please give me the lantern and watch my back. I will move forward." Rönne suggested. With a nod, Aikaterine gave him the lantern. He also pulled his revolver and turned off the safety, just in case.
And once again, they began to trudge forward, taking every step with a careful tone. The further they went into tunnels, the more they felt...something was off. Their vision became more and more blurry as the strange black fog began to appear around them.
The Black Fog also began to change the atmosphere. As he moved forward, he felt ache pounding his forehead. His eyes grew more tired, and he felt pushed towards the end of his sanity. Then he heard whispers. Inch by inch, they grew louder and louder...as if they walked among ghosts. Despite the fact they were both souls that died in their respective times, it still felt unnerving.
"God, my head..." Rönne stopped himself, taking a second to breathe some air. He felt Aikaterine's hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, I know. I will be-"
When he tried to touch her hand, he felt nothing. He immediately turned around and...she wasn't here.
"Kate?" He repeated in confusion, swearing up and down that she was just behind him. "Shit, where the hell was she?! KATE!"
The echo moved through the tunnel...still nothing. The Gunslinger opted to go back to find her as the tunnels went in a straight direction regardless. But on his way, he began to notice the corpses of...Exorcists...
"H-how?" He whispered to himself. He moved his lantern closer to one of the rotten bodies, all older Generation of Exorcists. Back before LED masks weren't a thing. Something is not right...scratch that. That's impossible!
His breathing quickened with horror, and panic set in. He decided to rush to find Kate and get the hell out of these Catacombs as soon as possible. But as he approached the light, he noticed a silhouette in the darkness, standing with their back to Rönne.
"IDENTIFY YOURSELF!" The Exorcist aimed his revolver before he gently came up to the individual. He carefully tapped his revolver's barrel against the person's back. That person then turned around. It's a young woman, in her mid 20's, wearing an Exorcist uniform but without a mask. It took Rönne at least a few seconds before it hit him.
"V...Vera?" He repeated in disbelief. No way...she was dead. She was buried in Heaven!
"You know it's worthless, love." Vera replied strangely. "Death awaits you no matter what...resist The Dark Lord...he will grow stronger. He will come for us...and we all will..."
"Die."
The last word sounded in unison as another figure appeared behind Vera's left shoulder. At first glance, he was not even a human soul....too...greater to be a human soul. This person wore an unbuttoned gothic style black waistcoat with a black vest and red undershirt, a tie suit with a red upside-down cross on it. The "Man" titled his head slightly, as if judging The Exorcist before speaking.
"Do you really think I don't know your presence? Your attempts to deceive me? You only fulfilling my will...and my will shall be done."
Vera's skin melted in the instant before her only skeleton remained as it collapsed. The walls of the tunnel now bloodied in an instant, and the floor was now covered with the bones of dead Imps, Sinners, and Hellborns of many species.
And as for the "Man", he just stood there, holding a cane in his hands. Adorned with a Symbol of Baphomet on it, the cane was truly worthy of its owner as he waited in silence. Much to "his" disappointment, the Gunslinger screamed from seeing everything before opting just to run away from that man.
"Pitiful..." The man said to himself, taking a slow walk to catch that Exorcist. He had a great amount of time to play this game...at least for a little while. The Exorcist ran forward away from that stranger, not even looking back as he felt the darkness tryin to catch him.
"MURDERER!" An Imp skeleton tried to pounce at him. The Exorcist dodged the attacker as he didn't stop the running. The Skeleton of Exorcists around him also began to scream at him in torment.
"LIFE TAKER!"
At this point, Rönne just closed his eyes, preferring to not see the nightmare.
"GENOCIDER!"
He tripped against the skull and collapsed on the floor.
"Nowhere to run."
"The Judgement Day is coming."
"My Ascendance is inevitable..."
He tried to crawl away from the screams, just somewhere...not here. And yet he felt he could just lie with them and accept their torment with them.
"Grab my hand, My Knight. Embrace the Mercy of your Lord." The Feminine Voice of Archangel emitted, as he felt a light emerging forward.
Looking up, he saw a bright light at the mountain of skulls and the silhouette of Archangel. She extended her hand towards, patiently waiting for Rönne to embrace the light. Not far away from him, the same man manifested into a...Entity of Darkness. A dark and shapeless form akin to smoke. It lingered and overwhelmed him, threatening to consume the breath from his lungs. The man was malevolence and emptiness, incarnate. Still waiting, the dark smoke extended his clawed hand to the Exorcist.
"Embrace your Damnation."
"Embrace all those who perished by you."
"Join...them."
"NOT TODAY!" Rönne screamed back at the entity, completely letting his legs run towards the Archangel. The Entity only lowered its clawed hand, accepting his loss as The Exorcist reached for the Hand of Archangel. In an instant, the presence felt familiar.
"Zadkiel?" He whispered to himself in disbelief. The Silhouette of Archangel's only response was to pull him towards the Light before he found himself falling into the water.
"WHA-"
*Splash*
Submerging in water, he quickly regained his posture and reached for the surface, screaming and gasping.
"Holy Allah, Rönne!"
Aikaterine used the staircase to go down and assist him, grabbing his hand to pull him out of the water. Exorcist Rönne coughed out water and collapsed against the floor, taking a breath.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" Aikaterine exclaimed, not amused after seeing his strange behavior.
"Y-you didn't see it?" He repeated in confusion.
"Didn't see what?!" Aikaterine exclaimed, her nerves fried.
"T-t-the-the thing in the tunnels. It-"
"The only thing I saw is how began repeating "His will shall be done" before going insane on me, running around in the tunnel like a total idiot."
Rönne took a second to take some breaths before getting up on his feet. Everything that happened could not be a coincidence. As if The Devil himself tried to corrupt his mind, only to be stopped by Zadkiel's Aura. Hard to guess on that matter, not knowing how powerful Demons or Angels can be, he would need to figure it out later. Maybe Zadkiel will help out him later once they had a break. For now, it's up for a mission to continue.
"I take it we are in Cisterns now?" He broke the subject, suggesting as he looked around. Must be the old sewers of Pandemonium from what they used to look like.
"Yeah, The Red Line goes to the left tunnels from it. Best not to make the Maid Of Orleans waiting. Come on, Rönne...and don't lose your head this time."
Aikaterine was the first to go while Rönne returned his glance at the Dark Tunnel. He felt a shiver before just deciding to follow his sister in arms. At least the tunnels of Cisterns were decent and less haunting, to the point of them not needing the lantern. So far, there weren't any paranormal anomalies that occurred for him. Everything was disturbingly silent.
But in the end, at the long last. By following the red line, they stumbled upon a makeshift camp with four crates and two Exorcists, already in their uniforms and completely ready for what came next.
"Ah, there you two are." High Marshal Jeanne d'Arc stopped looking at the map before pointing at the crates. "Your equipment is over here. Gear up and let's proceed forward."
With a salute to their Squad Leader, both of them activated their "Exorcist Forms" and went to specific crates to gear up. Inside of their crates was everything they need. Heaven always gave them the jackpot of the best gear, upside. Exorcist Armor, mask and helmet, and weapons, and including Rönne's newly Blessed Carbine from Aikaterine.
Rönne whistled in admiration as he picked the armor up. What was so unique about this Exorcist Armor was that it wasn't ordinary armor worn by Knights. This was the H.E.V (Heaven Exorcist Vehicle) Mark VI: An Armor worn by Exorcist Commandos. This unit specialized in assassinating the priority targets for Heaven. Their armor was both compact, plated, and environmentally friendly. Meant to protect the weaver from any Hell's Sorcery, of course. The LED mask was also a bit different. Instead of a full LED mask, only the eyes can make expressions while the rest of the mask stays set for protection.
This was truly an armor that brought the Justice of God to the traitors of Heaven.
Putting the armor on and mask with a helmet on. Rönne inserted his ID chip at the back of his helmet, beginning to boot up the interface of Mask.
Standby for Main Systems Startup
"Welcome to H.E.V Mark VI Protective System: For use in Hazardous Environment conditions." The voice of the female AI sounded, beginning to start the systems up. His visor then revealed the image of the entire Exorcist suit.
"High-impact reactive armor: activated!"
"Atmospheric contaminant sensors: activated."
"Vital signs monitoring: activated."
"Automatic medical systems: engaged."
"Defensive weapon selection system: activated."
"Munition level monitoring activated."
"Communications interface online."
"May God protect you, Exorcist."
At long last, the interface booted up completely.
"Begin the synchronization to us, Warriors." Their Leader Jeanne commands them. Aikaterine and Rönne used their wrist computers to link with their Squad. On their visors, appeared the new icons: The vital signs of the Squad and their Location and distance. Needed especially during the mission.
"Now switch to inner Channels." Jeanne continued. And they did so, switching to inner communication microphones. This way, no one will hear them as they speak inside their masks. "Good, Linking to the E.O.P. Stand by."
Marshall Jeanne pushed a button on her wrist computer. All of the Exorcist's Visors booted up a video cam before revealing Detective Eve's on the left corner of their visor.
"Welcome to the Pandemonium, Alpha Squad. Just like I told you back in Heaven, I will be the main supervisor and instructor on the operation codename "HERESY"."
Eve, on their video feedback, took a moment to type something on her terminal. Many pictures of Lord Regent Iblis appeared on Exorcist's interfaces.
"Your target is Lord Regent Iblis: The so-called "Pope of Hell". From what intel we have on him, he is a staunch supporter of Satanism and responsible for the creation of a "Religious Institution" here in Hell: The Diabolical States. He also has mutual connections with the Advisory Council in Wrath Ring, The Ars Goetia, and of course the Devil himself. And not to add that Queen-Matriarch Beelzebub and King Satan of Wrath support his beliefs."
"Huh, charming." Aikaterine sighed at that. "Very happy" to hear of Seven Deadly Sins' involvement.
"Now Lucifer prefers neutrality between us and his people. Iblis wants the opposite: Total Destruction of Heaven with Earth and finish what they started. This is why he is dangerous and must be silenced once and for all."
Detective Eve then typed again on the terminal to reveal the general layout of Pandemonium:
(Author: Not really a map of The Capital, just a vibe.)
"As you can see: The Round shape is the Stygian Council, and to the east of it is the City Of Dis itself: The Unholy City Of Hell. Dis is walled off from the rest of Pandemonium; thus, direct entrance can be excluded from your options. The Sewers you're currently in lead directly towards Dis City if you will go to the Eastern Cisterns. Once you get into Dis, you have to get into the main chamber where The Regent addresses his beliefs. Hell uses Gothic Style Architecture, so it won't be hard to get inside. I will notify you if there is anything else to add. Until then, wait until the Purge time arrives."
"Understood," all of them said, ending the channel. All that was left was their waiting game...
A Couple of Hours Later
The Final Hours of 2019 had been less...cheerful for the Exorcists. Back in Heaven, they knew their friends, loved ones, and family were celebrating just like in the Mortal World. Exorcist Rönne fought the boredom by pulling the trigger on his empty Revolver, but also by having a chat with his friend.
"Do you feel you pissed off Nädege enough that she will hesitate to talk to you for a while?" Rönne asked in Helmet's earset.
"Jolly, my boy. I'm worried if she will make me live outside for a while..." Mr. Hazbin chuckled back. He and Grandma Marsella currently sat at the other side of Pandemonium, in the underground parking lot. Despite not being in Heaven or...in a decent environment, they still celebrated. New Year's Eve with their tea flask, which the French Merchant brought from Heaven, was perfect for the occasion.
"Yeah, I'm really sorry about this."
"Don't fret, dear boy. Despite everything we saw, there are still good things that come out of this situation. For one, I met my grandma from my father's side. Even ignoring that, how could I say no to you? You're like a son to me. And well, considering we all came from Adam and Eve, I might be your very long-lost relative...so that checks out!" Mr. Hazbin chuckled.
"That's one hell of an incest for entire Humanity," Rönne remarked, smirking at his friend's words. He could add further, but then his visor began to display the pending call. "Sorry, got to go. Duty calls."
"For sure. Oh, and Rönne. On behalf of the entire LeBlanc family that I know, I wish you the best 2020 Year. Remember, my dear boy: be happy, fulfill your wishes. Even in death, we must continue for what he did in our Mortal times."
"Thank you, Mr. Hazbin. I wish you the same. Don't worry about me...I will come back...I promise." He ended the call and accepted the other. "Yes?"
"Alpha Squad, this is Eve again." Eve's webcam appeared in the upper left corner of his visor. "Under some consideration back at Heaven, Abel with his personnel regiment will assist you during the Assault on Capital phase."
"Is something wrong?" Rönne asked her. On his visor, she had been showing an annoyed expression. Detective Eve at first showed her finger before changing something on her terminal. She then responded.
"Prior, Uriel and Azrael have been arguing about this. To me, Your Archangel felt that he just doesn't care for your being. If you don't mind me asking: Do you really believe in Azrael's ideas?"
"Everyone in The Order has their own reasons for joining. But for me, I think in some cases he is right, Mother Eve. Hell could be dangerous if it united under a single rule. If not The Exorcists, then who?"
The First Woman nodded in understanding, her expression contemplative. Eve turned her head to the left, thinking that someone may have addressed her before she returned her glance back at the camera. "Thank you for your opinion, Knight. Archangel Uriel also wishes you and the entire Squad to be careful of what comes next...until then, Warriors."
"Thank you."
He then ended the call, taking a sigh before getting up on his feet. Both Aikaterine and Jeanne D'Arc were not here and instead had left for reconnaissance. Which leaves him and Exorcist Miu Ogawa guarding the camp in the sewers. The Samurai of the Sengoku period were silent for most of the time. They meditated on the floor and prepared for the incoming storm.
Exorcist Rönne gently came up to him and sat down on his knees. Miu didn't respond to it.
"You don't mind me sitting next to you?"
"No...but I sense you wish to speak with me, Rönne-san?" Samurai Miu responded.
A pregnant silence fell over the two beings. The exorcist kept his silence, wondering which words were best to use before letting his feelings out. "Do you think this will benefit us in the end? Like if we kill Iblis, do you think it will fix the problem?"
"Killing the source of the problem won't fix the problem itself, Rönne-San. And even then, Evil births Evil and we will always find the next source of Evil to eliminate..."
"I guess you're right..." Exorcist then sighed. "It's just I sometimes feel like it's pointless...we kill one sinner, another arrives. We kill a Demon, another will replace him. And so on and so forth. I have been in service for a hundred years only to see the pattern repeating over and over...until Double Death perhaps will finish it for me."
"Hm...so you seek the results?"
"I guess...there must be something good to come up from what we are doing."
"There is always good in bad and bad in good. I'm not fully familiar with my Neighbor's concept of Yin and Yang. I tend to agree with the idea of it. That the universe is governed by a cosmic duality, sets of two opposing and complementing principles or cosmic energies: God and Devil, Heaven and Hell, Virtue and Sin, and Good and Evil. They always must be balanced."
"So you're not believing that we should win this Long War?"
"Win it? No. Contain it: Yes. That's our true purpose, Rönne-San: To keep the balance of Duality of this Universe. Maybe one day we shall lay down our weapons, as we no longer need to keep the balance...until then...my katana shall judge the Oni."
Rönne simply nodded in silence to Samurai's Wisdom. But even then, it was still hard to think if he would survive another 100 years.
500 years?
1000 years?
10,000 years?
It made him wonder if it was truly going to end one day. And to admit that their fight was eternal was to admit it's pointless to think if they won or lost? How long until they made sure The Devil itself will no longer be a threat to everything that exists?
"Aikaterine did mention what happened to you on your way to us, Rönne-San...you saw it, right?"
"It?" Rönne repeated it in confusion.
"Yes, Akuma: The Shogun Of Sorrow. A harbinger of ominous and terrible fortune, who can bring the insanity to those who happen to see it. In your home, it is known as "The Devil."
"How can you be sure it was him?"
"I saw it too...appeared as a Samurai Warrior on a Black Stallion. It claimed I failed my Clan in their fight against Tokugawa, but much of it was a disappointment. I'm now at peace with my Mortal Life."
"If it was him, it makes me wonder if he knows what we are planning..." Rönne muttered to himself.
"It maybe does...but as long as we remain faithful to our case, we shall resist its temptations." Samurai simply explained. Before Rönne could speak again, their masks produced a beeping sound, signaling that someone requested a direct link.
"Samurai, Deadeye...come in." The voice of Jeanne D'Arc sounded in their earsets.
"Loud and clear, Madam. Reporting..." Rönne responded on behalf of the two.
Not far away, at the edges of Pandemonium, both Aikaterine and Jeanne D'arc had eyes on their target: The City Of Dis.
Dis was an independent city-state and enclave located within the Pandemonium. It is the home of Diabolical States: the Religious Institution of Hell. It was barely even a city, just a district of Pandemonium that was separated by the impressive walls. It had been built around the Famous Landmark of Pandemonium: The Devil's Eye, which was a massive crater with a huge hole that led to the deepest and lowest part of Hell: The Ninth Ring.
Most of the buildings were built out of dark stone. The architecture hooked to the corner as the monolithic deep reds, blacks, and grays that would seem to be welcoming to a traveling pack of people. At the center, visible everywhere in Pandemonium, sat the Iron Tower. It was a mix of a Cathedral and a colossal tower of black iron that stretched for hundreds of miles into the sky before vanishing into the dark, clouded expanse. The Iron Tower was the throne of Lord Regent: The Hell's Own Pope.
Within the city were Cardinals and Heretics, who spent their "free time" meditating in their red-hot tombs. Only during the "Sabbath" did they leave their tombs to pray to the Devil. As for the Guards...enough of a story to tell. The walls of Dis were guarded by the so-called "Revenant Order." Basically, Hell's own Papal Guards who dedicated themselves to protecting their Unholiness. At this point, Jeanne erased any possibility of silencing Iblis quietly. Security was tight, strong, and decent for Hell. But on one side, they were more than ready to bring down this pathetic copycat of Catholicism, killing two rabbits with one blow.
However, her eyes fixated on a new threat as her mask zoomed in to get a better view of it. Outside the Entrance of Dis City, a royal carriage arrived with markings already identified as the Ars Goetia. It moved towards the entrance, heavily guarded by Ars Goetia Legionnaires.
It eventually stopped at the entrance, with one of the Goetia Legionnaires opening the door and kneeling to their superiors. The first to leave the carriage was the Ars Goetian Demon with a wolf-like creature following him. He was a humanoid, but also a reptile demon with a dragon's hands, feet, and wings, wearing a majestic crown and holding a serpent staff. The Goetian demon turned back at the carriage and bowed his head, offering his hand to someone. From the carriage, another hand reached for Ars Goetia before...
Oh, no.
The second one was an insectoid demon, with much resemblance to Earth's Bee or Fly, and Female no less...it was enough for Jeanne to know who she is...
"Squad, we have a problem...Astaroth Goetia and Queen-Matriarch Beelzebub are here."
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) "This is what happens to the enemies of the revolution, fascist!" (French)
2) "My grandson, my precious grandson! Give your grandma a hug she carved for a century! (French)
3) "Grandma! How nice to see you alive and well!" (French)
4) And who are you, my comrade? (French)
5) "He is nothing but a slave to his oppressive boss, a perfect example of the rotten system of capitalism. (French)
6) "Well...you have to survive somehow. I doubt his kind will be treated any better than the Creoles of the pre-Civil War United States. (French)
7) "Let's not keep our Guardian Angel waiting any longer. (French)
8) "What an asshole. (French)
9) "You can't really blame him." (French)
10) "So...who's first? You or me?" (French)
11) "You go first, my boy...your grandma needs...some alone time with this bourgeois gentleman here...hehe!" (French)
12) "Okay, I'll wait for you outside." (French)
13) "No" (French)
14) "Oh, okay!...Thanks, honey." (French)
15) "That was fast!" (French)
16) "He's been kind to me to go through this. It works every time." (French)
17) "Oh, you. You never cease to amaze me, Grandma." (French)
18) "Hey, the LeBlancs are a proud family and have to adapt to survive. I didn't raise your dad to be upper-class's bitch!" (French)
19) "Words to live by, Grandma!" (French)
20) "What a show, sweetheart!" (French)
21) "They don't call me Con Artist for nothing." (French)
22) "Oh my God! Be careful, you poor thing. Where does it hurt?" (French)
23) "I'm fine, just hit my head." (French)
24) "Huh, sinners. Rare to see them these days." (Latin)
25) "His majesty perhaps slammed his head against the wall, if he allowed these two here." (Latin)
26) "It doesn't matter, they spend time here, working to death in the Ghetto. Might as welcome to their doom." (Latin)
27) "Sinners, strong to you come Pandemonium. Lucifer must have completely lost his mind up there." (Latin)
28) "Um...I love...God...Devil?" (Latin)
29) "Grandma, can you take care of our friend's trunk?" (French)
30) "Well, it's an interesting trip." (French)
31) "For sure..." (French)
32) "You too, Comrade Rönne. Despite your constant love for killing my kind. I am always happy to see you alive and well!" (French)
33) "Shit, too close." (German)
34) "Don't raise your voice at me, young lady! I am baffled by the number of disgusting conditions in your hotel." (French)
35) "1000 souls just for one night?! That's just greedy and a definition of capitalist madness!" (French)
36) "Grandma, what happened?" (French)
37) "I'm sick of demons like her! Look at what is happening here: genocide, genocide, genocide! And she asks us to pay a thousand souls for one night. That's why we need to build communism in hell and overthrow the tyranny of the Seven Kings." (French)
38) "Such a wrath in that Sinner, I might add. It's so rare to see the Wrath of Satan so strong in non-Hellborn demons. Perhaps there is still a chance for you, mortal." - (High Satanic)
Chapter 15: Something Wicked This Way Comes
Summary:
“Worshiping the Devil is no more insane than worshiping God...It is precisely at the moment when positivism is at its high-water mark that mysticism stirs into life and the follies of occultism begin.” ― Joris-Karl Huysmans
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
December 31, 2019, AD (32 minutes before the Extermination), 23:01 PM.
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave.
Faith.
Blasphemy.
And True God.
Upon these 3 principles, the City of Dis was built to be the center of Inferno's religious institution. Even in Hell, demons tended to still lean on their ancestry, believing in some kind of superior deity that guides them...and the Diabolical States were here to teach the "true" version of it.
In Hell's society, most demons were atheistic or followed a veneration of their respective kings of hell in their rings. But some also understood that there was a "true God" somewhere in the Void, observing the Inferno. That Deity was their Divine Father, "True" Master, and Dark Lord, who waited for their children (demons) to finish what they began in the "Great Exodus" and bring the Final Inferno:
The Magne Inferno.
Fanaticism and religious stupidity at its finest. But Blasmephy, although not exactly a deadly sin of Hell, was a formidable tool to use to suppress and control the inhabitants of Hell. It was something that Great Duke Astaroth agreed upon. Propaganda and indoctrination is what Inferno needed right now...if they wanted to win the Long War against Heaven.
And that day will come.
Once a year, during "Extermination Day", the Inferno, or rather, the Capital Ring, celebrated "Devil's Day." A sort of "Unity" Day if using mortal terms. And on that day, the Diabolical States invited every demon to attend the Sabbath: an event to wash off all your virtues and pray to the True God. For most Ars Goetias, it's more or less a "political play" on their part. Attending the Sabbath was prestigious in a sense that it showed you both support the Church and its doctrines.
For their own respective reasons, the Kings of Hell were also invited, but most of the time they couldn’t attend. Though this time, Beelzebub had to attend due to some..."opportunity" that the church offered her. And now it's up to Astaroth to make it happen.
Astaroth Goetia admired the surroundings of Dis as he and his Goetian Legionnaires escorted Queen Beelzebub of Gluttony, through the AP. Judas' Square...now renamed as AP. Baphomet Square for...obvious reasons. It was more or less a formal escort, because Beelzebub could easily kick ass, but Astaroth had his own reasons for being here as well.
*Puppy Whine* A serpentine bat-like beast whined at the Grand Duke, who was being held by him with a decorative rope and collar.
"Not now, Byleth. I know you prefer to be in Limbo, devouring those abominable Cherubimps. But, I have a lady to escort." Astaroth released a breath in annoyance.
"Don't try to play me over, Astaroth. I'm not in the mood for your bullshit either!" Queen Beelzebub barked back.
Astaroth sighed, recognizing the problem of her bad mood. He looked at one of his legionnaires who was carrying a crate and commanded him with a slight head gesture. The Goetian Legionnaire quickly handed the bottle of Beetlejuice to Astaroth, who, in turn, offered it to the Queen of Flies.
Without any delay, Beelzebub quickly snatched the bottle that she herself created and drank it instantly, making a little sigh of relief. Due to her own nature, the Queen of Gluttony tends to get "moody" if she didn’t drink her alcoholic beverage. Ironically, the alcohol helps her think better. They always say: Beelze loves her bub to this day...
"Better?" Astaroth grinned.
"(BZZZ)etter." Beelzebub cleared her throat and threw her empty bottle in a random direction... specifically to the head of a Deacon Imp who was cleaning AP Baphomet's Square with a broom, knocking him out.
At this point, they reached the stairs that led to the Iron Tower: the Basilica of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ, as it's officially called. The iron gates were opened, and another demon and two diabolical guards left the building to greet the guests. That demon was a "Candle Head" Demon, wearing white robes of the Diabolical States. Upon getting closer to Astaroth and Beelzebub, he kneeled down to his superiors.
"Welcome to Dis, Lord Astaroth and Lady Beelzebub." He then stood up on his feet. "His Unholiness Iblis expresses his gratitude for accepting his invitation to attend the Sabbath." The Candlehead spoke in a very calm and stoic voice.
"W... Hey, there are two of you!?" In a silly tone, Beelzebub pointed her finger at the Candlehead Demon. It caused the Grand Duke to facepalm himself, now realizing he had to deal with Drunk Beelzebub for a short while. Thankfully, it was only just a temporary state for her. As for the Cardinal, he only raised his eyebrows at the strange behavior of the Devil's child.
"Her daughter's hive party was two days ago, so don't mind her behavior. We are not here for the Sabbath, Lord Cardinal Baphomet." Astaroth spoke on behalf of Beelzebub, who moved closer to Baphomet in the mean time. "The Lord Regent wrote to us that he seeks our presence for... political matters."
"I see..." Lord-Cardinal Baphomet responded calmly, albeit ignoring the drunk Beelzebub, who tried to touch his pentagram head tattoo. "Then I will inform his Unholiness of your arrival...and you have to leave your pet outside this time, Astaroth."
"...Why!?" Astaroth exclaimed. In the meantime, Beelzebub tried to understand why the red button on Baphomet's head didn't work. Where was Azazel when you needed her?
"The presence of-" Baphomet paused as he glanced at Astaroth's pet before finding the proper words in the mythological sense. “-Your "beast" will be repulsive to faithful Demons."
Astaroth growled upon hearing these excuses but obliged in the end, handing his collar rope to his nearest Legionnaire. But as soon as the Grand Duke let go of the rope, Byleth: Astaroth's Warbeast, began chaotically running around the Dis's Square, with the poor Legionnaire being dragged on the floor. Byleth was one huge doggo boy. But Astaroth ignored his pet's behavior and pointed his clawed finger at one of his Legionnaires.
"The rest of you secure Dis's perimeter from any external threat, Commander. I don't want any surprises for today."
"By the Devil's will, it shall be done, My Lord." The commander of Astaroth's Legion bowed his head. He then shouted at his knights to split up and assume their positions. The Grand Duke, in the meantime, took Beelzebub's arm and made sure she was safely entered inside with the Iron Gates closing down behind them.
Unknown to the Duke and Queen and... well... the rest of Hell, that is, the two exorcists, specifically Aikaterine and Jeanne d'Arc, observed them from the rooftops of one of the rundown buildings. Upon losing sight of these two, she switched off her zoom feature on her mask. She then made a glance at the Demolition Exorcist.
"Orders, ma’am?" Aikaterine asked in a very...tense tone. The fear of Beelzebub spoke for itself. The response of Maid Orleans didn't help, with her rubbing her hand against her mask before releasing a breath.
"Forgive my French, Commander Knight-Sister. But we are in a deep pile of shit with no chance of survival now. " Jeanne muttered through their communication link. She knew that the E.O.P heard her curse, but let's be honest...it's not like they agreed either.
And speaking of them...
Lower Heaven/Empyrean City/The Eye of Providence's headquarters.
Oh, may our father preserve us all..
To Archangel Uriel, these two had been the greatest pain to Heaven since Lucifer's Great Rebellion. Although her older brother Helel no longer had any wish to try to usurp God's throne, there were still elements in Inferno that they wished to complete what they started in the Rebellion. And that's where Astaroth and Beelzebub were famous for.
Queen Beelzebub was the third most powerful monarch in Hell, something that did not surprise Uriel at all...knowing her sister very well. A long time ago, the Light of God knew Beelzebub as Archangel Yophiel: the Keeper of God. She was responsible for keeping the holy artifacts intact until the "Time" came to use them. As their mutual Divine Dad was cryptic at best, Yophiel grew disillusioned with her duties. That disillusion grew into anger at her father and...well...the rest was history.
It was the most common belief that Lucifer took credit for "everything" that happened in the rebellion and post-rebellion. But that's not always the case. Yophiel, as Beelzebub, together with Lucifer and Satan: the Lord of Wrath, shaped the Inferno and Hell into what it was now. She was held in high regard by her fellow kings and the entire royal family, to the point of being a member of the "Satanic Triumvirate." Now, Beelzebub is often called the "True Queen" of Hell, as she is very popular party goer girl in the 7 Rings of Hell.
As for Astaroth: the 29th spirit of Ars Goetia, he was one of the highest-ranking demons, a Great Duke of Hell, and said to be among the strongest of the Goetia Nobles. He was the patron of battles and engagements, the eater of souls, and the father of the executioners. He was there when Belial Goetia proclaimed the Ars Goetian Empire, the predecessor of Lucifer's Inferno. Now, in modern times, he possessed the position as treasurer of Hell and made sure the funds went in the "right" direction.
Unlike his peers, Astaroth was known to be a huge supporter of "Satanic Doctrine". This doctrine advocated finishing what they started: the overthrow of God from Heaven and the destruction of Earth. With Beelzebub also sharing some views with him, both Heaven and E.O.P dubbed them "Major Threats of the Lord's and Lady's Righteous."
With the arrival of Astaroth and Beelzebub, the Eye of Providence found itself in a very tense situation. There was no way that Alpha Squad could just proceed forward now that Beelzebub was here. At least with Astaroth, they at least had some chances, albeit with a low chance of survival.
And so, Detective Eve and some personnel of E.O.P began to rethink their procedure. At this very moment, they tried to figure out how to get the exorcists to infiltrate Dis's Cathedral without raising any alarm.
"What about this route if they take the upper floors?" One of the agents pointed at the map of Dis's Layout.
"Too risky: I have no doubt Astaroth would have added additional security in the upper floors. Then again, he has already proven to be quite a tactician for his victory over Limbo Ring." Detective Eve pondered aloud, rechecking the map of Pandemonium.
"Which leaves us no choice but to go on a suicide mission." Azrael stated he was already tired of these holdups. Uriel only scowled back at Azrael's lack of empathy. Too often, he'd shown to not care for the Exorcists ' well-being and just saw them as " mindless killing machines."
"The direct confrontation with Beelzebub is a death warrant, my Archangel. Right now, we don't have all the information on Dis's layout. If we could get someone to infiltrate Dis itself, we'd be able to make our new plan more clear."
There was a silence as everyone thought about their own ideas. Uriel crossed her arms and cupped her rosy cheek, deep in her thoughts. So far, they have managed to infiltrate the Pandemonium with the help of collaborators. No doubt they could also hire someone else to do... Dirty work for Heaven.
But in this case, it must be a royal demon. It would be best to find a high-ranking demon to mingle near Beelzebub and Astaroth, or even help the Exorcists in taking down Iblis. Obviously, it would be someone who will participate in their work with Heaven or...who didn’t have "Demonic Supremacy" tendencies.
"Is there any other confirmed Goetias besides Astaroth?" Azrael broke the silence.
"Jeanne did send a picture of Dis's exterior. I recognized some Legionaries had Sitri's Emblem patterns in them." Mother Eve commented.
"Prince-Elector Sitri? Great..." Azrael sighed, followed by a dull chuckle. "If Great Marquis Phenex Goetia is also there, then our exorcists will have to deal with Electorate in Dis."...
Uriel hummed to herself. Now that Azrael mentioned it...it made her wonder if...
Phenex
Phenex!
OF COURSE!
"Excuse me for a moment." Uriel gently bowed her head, apologizing for abruptly leaving them. Most, if not all, gave a nod of understanding in silence before continuing with their operations. Azrael, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow after hearing this, only to scowl it off under his nose.
Archangel Uriel then teleported herself to a location far from the main headquarters of the E.O.P, citing the need for a "private matter" for the time being. She summoned her book of wisdom and flipped a few pages to find what she was looking for...
"Forgive me, Father and Mother..." Uriel muttered as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to accept what she was about to do. She gathered up courage and drew Phenex's symbol in the air with her own flames. But in case her old servant showed hostility, she also conjured up a special "shield" spell. It would prevent the Goetia Demon from possessing the conjurer or even attempting to breach the barrier between Hell and Earth, so Phenex would not be able to do anything to harm her.
The Phenex's symbol flashed in flaming fires before from it emerged a portal... or rather a mirror portal, in this case. A humanoid, Phoenix-like demon appeared on the other side of the mirror. It seemed that she was in her castle, somewhere in Pride Ring, as she was currently in her very decorative bedroom, sitting on a throne chair.
Like most demons in the Ars Goetia, they possessed the presence of class and nobility. Phenex Goetia was no exception: tall and willowy, she had the body most demons would envy. Not to mention, her tailored dress hugged every curve and crevice of her frame with almost painstaking perfection, knowing how expensive clothes were in hell. But her coloration in her feathers and plumage differed from the black-to-white spectrum of, say, Prince Stolas Goetia.
Brighter colors shone through her feathers, even with the burgundy skies wanting to wash everything out in red undertones. It shouldn’t be a surprise that wearing white in hell was a bit rare, considering it was one of the colors of heaven. But, when your theme of your colors was the ever-popular flames of hell, it did good fashionably not to blend with the pattern. And honestly, Uriel saw that Phenex craved a little bit of home since…well…that's how she always was. The whites of the dress continued until they faded into the ombré pattern of yellow, orange, and finally, red at the bottom of the dress. It was as if the dress had been immersed in the lava rivers of the Wrath Ring.
Her crown, along with her long wave of feathers for "hair,” framed her face very well. As for the eyes, it was said (somehow by mortals) that the eyes are windows to the soul. Most demons had souls tainted with too many sins to name, often clouded with thoughts of themselves. With Phenex, it was rather odd with her. Like the others, she was a demon and had her own sins, like the majority. But her eyes weren’t as clouded and dark with sin as the others. A demon's true intentions were often clouded and hard to see, but with her? Her eyes were clear, clear with beautiful orange pupils that fit her aesthetic.
At first, Phenex didn't bother to look at Uriel, busy with writing the notes for her next opera libretto. Uriel only crossed her arms, having all the patience in her entire existence. But regardless, Phenex scribbled the last word on her notes, ending with a dramatic gesture before directing her eyes at Uriel. She stared at Uriel for an awkward 20 seconds before her beak formed into a smile.
"♪ Nearly two millennia have passed, and you still haven't changed your hairstyle, darlinini Uriel. You could have prepared yourself for me, hmm yes ♪." Phenex spoke in a very " childlike" voice. But every word was like a little tune to the song. Not surprising, given Phenex's reputation as a great poet of heaven back in the day. Doubtful she stopped being a poet here in Inferno.
Uriel could not help herself but chuckle at it. She actually expected hostility from Phenex...like calling Uriel a "Whore of God," a "Pigeon," and some other demonic insults towards angels. But Phenex was still the Phenex that Uriel knew... aside from the fact that Hell twisted her form here and there.
"Always the same, huh, Phenexel?" Uriel brought that sassiness back.
"♪ Make an effort to be. ♪" Phenex sighed, checking her talons for a second before she stood up from her throne and walked towards Uriel's portal. "♪ But I prefer it if you call me by my modern name. I don't mind, but Goetias tend to get uppity with their old names, hmm yes. ♪"
"Understandable, Phenex." Uriel gave a nod of respect towards Phenex's wishes. "You're not busy, are you?" She gestured at the note that Phenex had written earlier.
"♪ Oh, that's just my hobby. I'm pretty much free most of the time. Aside from listening to Astaroth's rambles at us and making sure my sweetheart Stella or Andrealphus are not breaking my alliance with Prince Stolas, hmm yes." Phenex used her hand to wave a little bit, indicating the mundanity of her life. "♪ Why do you ask? ♪"
Silence engulfed them as Uriel awkwardly touched her neck, feeling shame for himself. The reason why she sought Phenex in the first place was that...well? Uriel didn’t know how to put this other than the honest truth. Phenex was one of the "nicer" demons in the Ars Goetia, as well as one of the few that genuinely wished to return to Heaven. And the word "genuinely" spoke for itself.
Since the Rebellion and to the present day, Phenex has written at least 10354 letters to Uriel's brother Michael. The letters stated that she never renounced her father and was forced by rebels to "guide" them during the rebellion. In the messages, she wished to pledge herself once again back to Heaven and even offered to tip the Inferno's shady dealings behind everyone's back.
But Michael, being Michael, refused Phenex's pleading with the old rhetoric of "You paid for your crimes." Of course, Michael didn't mean it exactly that way, but Heaven has always had a strict policy of never forgiving Demons. Traitor now... and you'll be a traitor until the end. But Uriel must admit that allowing "collaboration" between demons and Heaven was a bit hypocritical, especially since she sought Phenex's help, even though she and Uriel both know Phenex cannot be redeemed.
"Phenex, we need to talk."
Hell/Blasmephy Ring/Pandemonium/The Old Sewers
20 Minutes Later
Both Aikaterine and Jeanne returned to their makeshift camp at this point. Nothing much changed since they left, with Rönne and Samurai Miu guarding the two tunnels that lead to different parts of the Old Sewer System. Rönne focused on the tunnel that led to the City of Dis, while the Samurai focused on the tunnel from where they arrived in the first place. Hence, the German/Texan Exorcist had the opportunity to be the first to greet him.
"High Marshal." The gunslinger weakly saluted the Maid of Orleans, though Jeanne passed him with no response. Akaiterine patted his shoulder to make sure he didn't take Jeanne's silence personally.
"Join me at the table, Alpha Squad." Jeanne calmly ordered the rest of the squad. While the Samurai took a few glances at the tunnel, making sure the coast was clear before joining, Akaiterine and Rönne followed their leader. The Maid of Orleans again rubbed her hands against her masked face, still in deep thoughts, before she turned around to them.
"With the Queen of Gluttony and the Goetian Grand Duke being here, the success of our mission is now shaky at best, I'm afraid." Jeanne calmly stated. "And so, we have to change our plans now, Alpha Squad. Hence, Command is now rethinking their plans as we speak. The only option now is to infiltrate the cathedral and assassinate Iblis quietly, but even with that plan, we still have a small window of opportunity to avoid Beelzebub's wrath. "
"We're not planning to at least assassinate Astaroth, ma’am?" Rönne asked on behalf of the trio. Although, his gut felt the correct answer already. In fact, the trio of them knew the answer...
"No, Brother "Deadeye". This mission is solely focused on Iblis. Once the main assault on the capital begins, we might have a chance to take down Astaroth. But I won't promise anything to you."
"I understand, ma’am." Rönne sighed but gave a nod of compliance. Akaiterine felt that there was something more that Rönne didn't say...
"Good, any questions?" Jeanne asked them. Nobody answered, and so the Maid of Orleans took it that they were ready. "Good, we still have one hour left before the purge begins. For now, continue with standard procedures. I will notify all of you of any updates from the command. "
Saluting their commander in silence, Rönne and Miu returned to guarding the tunnels. They switched over their positions now, with Rönne focusing on the tunnel that they arrived from.
Aikaterine returned to check on her C-4. They needed it in case of obstacles and for "demolition expertise" during the mission. But still, she could not help but glance at where Rönne was. The Gunslinger, unlike Miu, who diligently guards his post, relaxed his shoulder against the wall, slowly spinning his empty revolver's chamber in a tense way.
The Knight-Commander decided to check on him, gently coming up to him. She didn't want to startle him, hence she was very careful with her moves.
"Hey..." Akatierine whispered.
"Hey..." Rönne returned it, glancing at her. He then sighed to himself and stopped spinning his chamber in a circular motion, reloading his revolver with bullets. "One Helluva New Year's Eve for us, huh?"
"Yeah, I agree with that..." Aikaterine slowly nodded, admitting how dreaded it is. "I noticed you took it the most."
There was a pause as Rönne lowered his head a bit, deep in thought. He would correct his posture before responding. "I never asked you. How was your talk with Prophet Muhammad back in Heaven, Aik?"
"Inspiring." Aikaterine shrugged that off, not knowing what to really state. "We talked about my family, about Islam, and about my role as Protector of Heaven and Allah's righteous. Why do you ask?"
"It's just...I feel I should have done better with my own final wish..." Rönne admitted it to her. “With the Queen of Gluttony here, I'm afraid we won't survive even if we bring Iblis down...and there is Astaroth who - God help me, I can get my hands on that son of a bitch before I get killed..."
"Is there history between you and Astaroth?"
"Not directly, Aikaterine." Rönne shook his head, unable to control his rage at the mention of Astaroth. It was difficult to tell if his rage was justified... or filled with sins. "Just a century ago, Astaroth led the Army of Inferno in their invasion of the Limbo Ring. They pillaged the capital of Limbo, poisoned the land, obliterated everything in their path, and showed no mercy to sinners who were on the path of Redemption."
"So he’s..." Aikaterine pondered to herself, before realizing. "...Responsible for everything?"
"There are many demons in Inferno who are responsible for this. Astaroth and Iblis are the major ones." Rönne then confronts her. "That's why I asked about Astaroth: bringing him down will avenge 6 billion redeemable sinners who lost their lives....100,000 exorcists who perished defending the Capital...and many more."
"♪ Bold of you to assume Astaroth won't stop here, My Little Exorcist. ♪"
Both Rönne and Aikaterine, like a hawk pouncing on a rabbit, brought their weapons ready in an instant and aimed forward. Jeanne and Miu saw them, and without a delay, quickly unsheathed their blades to join them. Inside the deep dark tunnels of the sewers, a pair of orange eyes glowed in the darkness as a Demon then left the shadows from the tunnels to reveal its presence. In an instant, Alpha Squad recognized that it was a high-ranking Ars Goetian Noble.
None other than Phenex Goetia: The "Great" Marquis Of Inferno.
"♪ Why hello- ♪"
*Bam*
She interrupted herself when one of the exorcists with a blessed revolver fired at her. It could have been the end of her if...she was a low- ranking Goetian Noble, that is. Much to the surprise of that Exorcist Gunslinger, Phenex didn't even flinch and literally caught the bullet in midair with her fingers.
"H-how -?" Rönne lowered his revolver in shock. He could not find the words to explain what just happened.
"♪ Was it meant to impress me, hmm yes♪?" Phenex tilted her head to the left, smiling slightly. "A little Goetian Wisdom for you, darlinini: never fire your "load" at a lady...unless she is "eager" for it."
Chuckling sultrily at her little joke, the Bird Demon then snapped her fingers (and made a "Pew" sound") to return the bullet back to Rönne. The bullet was fast, as if it was fired from the barrel, and hit between where Rönne's feet are. As the Bullet was enchanted with Phenex's magic, it sent a little harmless flame that made Gunslinger yelp and collapse on the floor from the shockwave.
"Rönne!" Akaterine exclaimed before she decided to deal with that bitch by herself. She was about to fire her shotgun before she and the rest of the communication link to E.O.P was opened.
"Alpha Squad, stand down!" Abel demanded in a harsh tone inside their earsets, showing that disobeying the order is a serious offence. Jeanne lowered her sword and could not believe what she just heard.
"Permission to question your motives, Grandmaster?"
"Granted...Mother, could you?"
"Right..." The detective 's voice sounded now instead of Abel's. "Alpha Squad, meet our newest collaborator: Phenex Goetia."
There was a silence as Alpha Squad processed what they just heard. Rönne used the opportunity to raise himself back on his feet. He also was shocked by this revelation. With Sinners it was fine, as they tend to be shady, and you can exploit that shadiness...
But a Goetian demon?! "Great" Marquis no less?!
Jeanne glanced cautiously at Phenex, who in response, made a little wiggle with her fingers...as if stating she was still here. Jeanne again brought her finger to her ear piece, wanting to address everything she feels right now.
"Mother Eve, with due respect, but what the hell?!" Jeanne complained back to her earset.
"I'm as shocked as you are, Jeanne." Detective Eve sighed before adding further. "But Uriel, being Uriel, put a lot of faith in Phenex to help you out...how could we argue with the archangel 's decision?"
"And where is Uriel?"
"In a "shouting" match with Azrael...enough said on that." Eve didn't elaborate further. "Phenex will assist you in getting your hands on Iblis's throat. She already knows of our procedure, but inform her on the blueprint you have with you, Alpha Squad. Over and out."
"Roger that..." Jeanne released a breath as she closed her channel and turned slowly back to Phenex. If she had an ordinary LCD mask that Pride Legion has, she would have the most eerie- looking LCD expression on Phenex.
"♪ Aww, why so gloomy, Love? Be thankful that I at least answered the call. Any other Goetia could have just attacked you on sight, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex expressed it in a genuine voice.
"But you nearly shot me!" Rönne complained.
"♪ And so did you. But no one is perfect, love. We can both agree on that, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex winked at him before turning her gaze at the leader of Alpha Squad.
Jeanne, not wanting to deal with External Communication bullshit, removed her mask to freely speak.
"What's your game...demon?” The Maid of Orleans went straightforward.
"♪ Oh, quite a lot of games, Jeanne. ♪" Phenex chuckled, waving her off. "♪ Some concessions here and there, more privileges for me...and I will always help someone as a favor, hmm yes. ♪"
"Yeah, until you betray us at a moment's notice." Rönne muttered to himself, albeit his external communication was on, making Phenex hear it as well.
"♪ You assume much, dearie. Betraying those who summon me tarnishes my reputation among the conjurers." Phenex then brings her hand to her "feather hair" and trails her fingers through it. "After all, it's written in the book that they expect me to be "obedient." She then trailed her hand to her neck before stopping purposely just above her breast. "♪ And I aim to "play" by their book, hmm yes. ♪"
"You're having sex with them, aren't you?" This time, Rönne was dumbfounded a bit by what he had heard. He genuinely thought this whole "summoning Ars Goetia” was for the sake of gaining knowledge...not for sexual needs.
"♪ Of course not, love. I'm open-minded when it comes to sex, but even I have standards in choosing my partners." Phenex said it casually. Yet she then made a few steps towards him and brought her hand to his mask, caressing it. "But don't be afraid to ask... I might not be Uriel, but sleeping with me is quite...a "Heavenly experience, " if you catch my drift, hmm yes. ♪"
Rönne felt very awkward and just yanked his head away from the Great Marquis's fluffy fingers, not saying a word back. Surprisingly, Phenex only responded with a flirty grin. She expected that reaction...they always start with shyness at first. Aikaterine, on the other hand, growled at that behavior. She knew these types: all ladylike until they became "Black Widow-like" once you lowered your defenses.
Phenex then walked back to Jeanne to finish their little "hostile" conversation. "♪ Let's be honest here, Jeanne. You need Iblis to be dead, and I have no love for him either. And it seems we have a mutual goal here. The only thing I expect from your superiors is just a little favor for my help in Heaven's games, hmm yes. ♪"
Jeanne once again "death" glared at Phenex, before turning her head away. She had no love for demons, who have shown huge hostility to humanity multiple times throughout the centuries since she was burned in Rouen. But, because the Archangel had placed so much trust in Phenex, she must comply.
"Let me clear one thing, Phenex." Jeanne warned slowly as she returned her gaze to the Great Marquis. "If Uriel wills it, I will tolerate your help. But mark my words, if you betray us, not only will you make Uriel look bad...but you will also witness the "worst" aspect of Michael. He will know of your treachery."
In the end, the High Marshal expected Phenex to laugh it off...yet the Marquis slightly tilted her head to the left, giving a serious glance at Jeanne. "♪ Darling, I'm maybe a demon... but I'm not stupid enough to go against Heaven and my Father, hmm yes ♪." Phenex simply said, before gesturing for Jeanne to kindly guide her to where she needs her. "♪ Now shall we? ♪"
Still a bit suspicious of Phenex's intention, Jeanne ultimately put on her mask again and walked up to the table, with Phenex gently following her.
"We aim to get Iblis dead during this purge. But now that Beelzebub and Astaroth are here, we don't have a chance to do anything. And with the security of Dis being pretty tight, I have no doubt we wouldn't be able to penetrate the defenses in a straight assault."
Jeanne then looked at Phenex, expecting her opinions, only to find the Marquis's unprofessional behavior. Phenex covered her mouth to block the laughter...from what Jeanne just said. However, the Phoenix Demon would compose herself before speaking.
"♪ Of course it's "tight," love. ♪" Phenex air quotes before continuing. "♪ But it's nothing unusual for the Inferno. Every year that they celebrate the Sabbath, they double their security, fearing that Lucifer will send some assassins to kill Iblis, hmm yes. ♪"
"And why would he do that?" Jeanne asked in a bland manner, not believing that the King of Hell was targeting his own subjects.
"♪ Politics, Love. Our church is an independent entity that has different views than our kings. It's no doubt you also do a favor for my King of Pride, hmm yes. ♪"
"And what about the Sabbath...what is that, exactly?" Rönne hungered for knowledge.
"♪ If using your language: a massive circle-jerk, with a "We Good, They Bad" mentality, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex explained.
"Really?"
"♪ No...hehe but I wished, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex shrugged at the end with a chuckle.
"Regardless!" Jeanne halted their conversation. "Do you know anything about any gaps or holes in defenses we can use?"
"♪ I know some, but it's nothing special, really." Phenex then pointed her finger at the blueprint. "The cathedral is built upon some old ' Dark Materium" mines that are now sealed off. But one of my representatives that attended the Sabbath last year told me the Conclave is worried about the gas that creeps in every now and then, hmm yes. ♪"
"Okay, I get it. That's a very flammable substance, Boss." Aikaterine added to Phenex's words. "It powers most of the machines here in Pandemonium. With some high-grade explosives, the flames can take over the entire cathedral before the main chain reaction occurs."
"Sabotage, huh?" Jeanne pondered this back. "So essentially, ' leaving with a loud bang", Aikaterine?"
"Correct, Boss. I have some C-4 with me; 10 should do enough to blow up the cathedral. Yet, I have to manually activate the code for every one of them. There is a huge risk that they will detect us and we will have to fight our way out. Worse, if they realize how to deactivate my C-4s, it will make things worse for us."
"♪ I appreciate your 'exorcist' way of blowing us up, friends. But there are far easier solutions than these, hmm yes. ♪"
"Which is?" Jeanne inquired. The Great Marquis grinned before pointing at the layout.
"♪ For security reasons, every floor other than the main floor is restricted to ordinary demons. But Goetian Legionnaires can have free access to it. Since I'm attending the Sabbath as my "client" wants, I have to bring some of my legionaries as a token of appreciation for the Diabolical States's policies, hmm yes ♪."
"So you want us to pose as your guards?" Rönne asked.
"♪ Ain't you a smart one, love. That's exactly what I'm suggesting. ♪" Phenex chuckled wholeheartedly. Rönne however, didn't enjoy that chuckle...it felt like she was insulting his intelligence.
"Hmm...makes sense." Jeanne slowly nodded. By posing as her guards, they can get closer to Dis City and thus examine their situation more closely. In fact, Goetian armor is bulky compared to Exorcist armor, which is very thin and compact. They can solve the "redressing" problem. "Very well. What about the armor then? "
"♪ Just a second, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex snapped her fingers. True to her words, her magic aura emerged in a second, and then a fancy "Goetian-made" crate appeared.
Samurai Miu was nearest to the crate, and so he immediately walked up to take it and bring it to the rest before opening it to reveal the contents. And just like with Phenex's expensive dress design, it seems she didn't cut the budget on armoring her Legion. Phenex's Legion Armor was composed of a very regal and fancy looking armor. The design possessed a very "Ancient Egypt" like style. It made sense, given that the Phoenix Mythology originated in Ancient Egypt.
But it didn't take seconds for Jeanne to realize another problem. There are only three pieces of armor.
"Why only three?"
"♪ About that, love. ♪" Phenex chuckled at that. "♪ I have to give a reason for my attendance on the Sabbath if you and I want to avoid raising suspicion. Luckily for you, Beelzebub is quite a queen: she loves to collect even a small trinket that her subjects or faithful servants give her. That's why I need to give something to Beelzebub to show my commitment to Inferno, hmm yes. ♪"
"Over hoarding useless stuff for your own ego...pinnacle of gluttony." Jeanne whispered to himself before confronting the Phoenix Demon. "Let me guess: our blessed weapons?"
"♪ Hehe, yes, but not really your weapons. I meant you particularly, my dear Jeanne. ♪"
Jeanne was silent at first before responding in a very threatening tone. "Who do you think I am, Demon? A toy for Beelzebub to play with?!"
"♪ Me?! Well, you're a pinnacle of chivalry and a savior of France, as you were referred to in the Mortal Plane, Jeanne. But here, you're Michael's major servant. Think of Iblis's reaction if the Anathema's major servant was captured by Goetia and brought here to the Diabolical States. Victory symbolism for sure, hmm yes. ♪"
"She's got a point, Boss." Aikaterine added. "Your reputation precedes you. Plus, you'll be good bait for Iblis to get on."
Jeanne shook her head, not liking this kind of appraisal. Later in the history of Europe, France did canonize her as a saint. But even in the afterlife, Jeanne d'Arc felt she gained too much praise for nothing. In the end, she, just like everyone in that time, fought for her king, for her country, and for God. Even in Heaven, she was just an ordinary soul that worshiped God with all the love she had for her Holy Maker.
"I'm just a servant of God just like you are, Sister Scourge. I did what I believed was the right thing to do...as my father used to say, "One life is all we have, and we live it as we believe in living it. But sacrificing who you are and living without belief is a fate worse than death."... In the end, I took it literally."
The Maid of Orleans remained silent for at least a minute before she then sighed in defeat...there goes nothing. "Fine, have it your way, Phenex."
"♪ Spleeeendiiiiid! ♪ '' Phenex clapped her hands once, with a little song she did. "♪ Now please strike a pose as if you tried to strike me down. As for you, Team Trio...best for you to back away...just a hint, hmm yes. ♪''
"Give us a moment then..." Jeanne showed her palm for Phenex to wait a bit, before turning her glance at the rest. "Alpha Squad, on me."
The trio walked up to her as she was about to make a final pre-battle speech.
"My Exorcists..." Jeanne begins, only to stop to fix her words in the proper way. "My Brothers and Sister-In-Arms. Back at Heaven, I, with Grandmaster Aclima and the Heavenly Host, told you this mission might be the most difficult we ever had. This is not a walking park like Pride Ring. This is not even on the level of the Wrath Ring. We are in the hearts of traitors, defilers, and heretics who tarnish our Lord's righteousness and his children: be it angel or mortal soul."
The Maid of Orleans brought her hands behind her back as she then began to walk back and forth. "And yet you all volunteered, showing your devotion to our order's cause. The road ahead of us has been long and difficult, but each and every one of you has exceeded our expectations by hastening our arrival in the Pandemonium. You accomplished this feat, knowing you might not survive...and most impressively: without a question."
She then stopped to face them directly. "But it is time to reveal our purpose and our mission. Above us, there is a cancer known as Lord Regent Iblis, a malignant growth that needs to be cut off before it infects the surface. The Church of the Devil has created a weapon that transcends the destructive nature even to their demons: Blasphemy. It's a religious abomination of Inferno that lies and misleads their own demons to fuel hatred and wrath towards humanity and us. Therefore, the Diabolical States and their heretics are considered enemies of God and should be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. The Archangels called and the Order of Exorcism and Harrowing answered! And you: my brothers in arms: WHO ARE YOU!"
"We are Angels of Death!"
"And what is our purpose?!"
"To deliver merciless justice upon the enemies of God!"
"And why are we fearless?"
"Because we know no fear!"
"Outstanding!" Jeanne made a proud smile from hearing this devotion. Phenex watched it in delight as well. Inferno missed that sort of devotion to their cause.
Jeanne unsheathed her sword and nodded to Phenex to begin. She made a pose with her raised sword, as if she was attacking Phenex, just like the Marquis requested. Without any delay, the rest of the exorcists backed away as Phenex summoned her own Grimoire. It was quite beefy from first glance. She drew a spell in midair with her fire.
"♪ Might be cold at first, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex warned before she finished her spell and sent it towards Jeanne d'Arc. Upon contact, it encased the Maid of Orleans in marble, remaking her into an impressive statue. The Great Marquis didn't finish here and created a little marble block to finish the touches.
"♪ All too easy...♪" Phenex chuckled in delight, happy at how beautiful the statue turned out to be. "♪ Take your time with my armor and bring our Jeanne to the surface. I'm going to meet someone before we proceed. Ta-ta! ♪"
"But-" Rönne wanted to protest, but Phenex teleported herself away, leaving the trio and encased Jeanne alone. Awkwardness emerged as Rönne then glanced at his siblings-in-arms. "She could have at least encased her after we left the sewers."
"Damm, you're right." Aikaterine admitted this, realizing this small problem. She then glanced at the statue, releasing breath now that the hard part was about to begin. "Well...let's drag her to the surface."
Hell/Blasmephy Ring/Pandemonium/The City Of Dis Enclave/The Basilica Of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ.
To say that nobody goes to visit Dis was an understatement. Lucifer frequently mocked religious institutions for holding small gatherings. And yet the annual Sabbath proved wrong once again. The Basilica's main hall teemed with demons, both Diabolical States members and those who had come to celebrate.
The Regent's Servants were diverse and filled with many hierarchies. The Baphomet's brothers in species were the Cardinals. The Cardinals were leading bishops and members of the College of Cardinals. Their biggest duty was participating in the Diabolical Conclave. Here in Dis, they were akin to Pride's Overlords, who directly answer to the Lord Regent himself. Most have additional duties, including missions within the Pandemonium Curia, the governmental body of the Unholy See.
Second in Dis's Hierarchy was the Unholy Inquisition of Dis. It was obvious that such religions as Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, and the rest of humanity's religions, even Atheism, were considered to be "heresy" here in Demon Society. Worshiping God, His Prophets, the Holy Spirit, and the Archangels was treason against the entire Demon race, not to mention disgusting. And so, the Inquisition made sure that the Devil's wrath would be unleashed on these heretics...and sent them down to the Ninth Ring.
The bishops, made up of vampire-ized Imps and Succubi, were the third group. They were responsible for governing the regional churches around Hell. Churches were found often in the Wrath, Gluttony, and Sloth Rings, with the rest being banned or ignored by the Kings of Hell.
The fourth factor was the priests themselves. Each priest, at the start, would choose one of the seven deadly sins to venerate and focus on before slowly and surely embracing all of the sins in them. Thus accepting the Devil's "presence" for the rest of their existence.
And the lowest of all: the Deacons of Dis. The deacon's title and duties differed depending on which demon species he or she belonged to. Succubi are nuns who, unlike the False God's Nuns, were far more open in their clothing and devotion. After all, the Devil granted freedom to his servants, while the False God granted slavery to his servants.
With one hour until the Sabbath, the halls of the Basilica emitted a dark choir, signaling that the prayer was about to begin. Those who prayed used their two fingers on the right hand to point up and two on their left hand to point down, meaning "as above, so below". According to belief, the Two Finger prayer expresses the Devil's goal of reshaping this universe in his image: to bring peace, freedom, Justice, and security for the coming Magne Inferno.
Astaroth, with a nearly recovered Beelzebub from drunkenness', gently moved through the hall in silence as they followed Baphomet towards where the ceremony occurs. In the end, Baphomet brought the two high-ranking Inferno officials to the basilica' Main Nave, where the altar, lecter, pulpit, and Unholy Pentagram Star were.
"Your seat, My Lords." Baphomet gently showed them their seats. It was actually the first row from the altar. Some other Goetias: only two are present here, waited for the Sabbath as well. Both Beelzebub and Astaroth joined them without a word.
"I will inform you of your arrival at the Lord Regent." Baphomet slightly bowed before leaving them. Despite how one of the Cardinals performed the prayer, reading from the Satanic Bible, Astaroth instead checked his surroundings.
The room was massive in both width and height. It at least had 20 rows of church pews and balconies that reached to the fifth floor. Since the basilica was shaped like a pentagram star, they must be at the center of it.
The Hall's walls had many mosaics of faithful servants of Inferno, from Lesser Hellborns to the Seven Kings themselves. Even Astaroth's mosaic was also here, depicting him with a "Two Finger'' Prayer Salute...not that he really cares... Beelzebub also didn't care, but...her wings twitched slightly from excitement as there were many relics and objects. Her "collector" instincts must be satisfied...soon.
Astaroth's eyes caught on Goetia, who sat on the left of him. He was grinning at the Grand Duke, before Astaroth realized.
"Andrealphus? What in Belial's name are you doing here?" Astaroth whispered as quietly as possible.
"My Great Duke-Elector, I could ask you and my Hive Queen the same thing. Must be tired of Limbo's never-ending sense of despair and now seeking the Devil's embrace, hmm?" Andrealphus grinned.
"No, it's all part of the politics as always, Andrealphus." Astaroth returned with a little growl, crossing his arms. "And you?"
"Want some donations from the Church...For the past 25 years, I've been a "good" boy." Andrealphus chuckled mischievously at the end.
"If you want direct funding, ask me. I'm responsible for the entire Ars Goetia's treasury."
"Outside of Goetian Coins, I mean, My Duke. Pandemonium's coins are worth nothing these days...could be a good scheme to scam demons, hehe."
"I see... I wish you good luck with that." Astaroth, in the end, nodded, leaving the Young Goetia with his own game to himself as the prayer was still being held. Although, they stopped now in order to accept some recently born children from minor nobility for baptization. The Cardinal used a bucket of the Devil's own blood to dive children into it... something to do with washing your remaining angelic ancestry and becoming a pureborn demon.
This whole process lasted a few minutes, causing Beelzebub to fall asleep from boredom and produce the honey nectar from her mouth. Yes, the Beetlejuice beverage was made of Beelzebub's saliva. It's disgusting to think about... but the final product tasted great in the end. But, thank the Devil, Baphomet reappeared from the corridors.
"Lord Astaroth, Lady Beelzebub. He awaits you in his chambers. Follow me."
"...Wha?" Beelzebub blinked two times, waking up and noticing Baphomet. The Cardinal offered her hand if she needed help, but Beelzebub simply got up by herself. Her nectar, which she produced from her mouth while sleeping, dripped onto the floor as she stood on her legs. Some Demons sitting in the pews turned away in awkward disgust...She is their Queen after all, but for the love of Devil, how disgusting she can be when she is fully drunk.
"Have fun, you two." Andrealphus waved them goodbye as the Grand Duke and Lady of Flies left the ceremony. The Lord Cardinal guided them to higher floors. Most halls on all floors were guarded by the Goetian Legionnaires from Astaroth, Andreaphalus, and Great Prince Sitri himself, despite Astaroth not having seen him yet.
Baphomet eventually led them to the upper floor, where they were greeted by impressive, massive gates. The Revenant Guards of His Unholiness opened these gates for the trio as they entered inside. The Chamber of the Lord Regent was one massive council room, with a pentagram-shaped table and a throne not far away. But…nobody sat on it. Instead, His Unholiness stood near the window, observing the Stygian Council in silence.
Both Astaroth and Beelzebub walked up to him. Iblis did turn his head to the left, albeit not glancing directly at them. He returned it back at the Stygian Council before releasing his breath.
"Isaiah 41:13: For I, the LORD your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, 'Fear not, I am the one who helps you..." Iblis slowly started. He then gestured to one of his servants to bring him a cup of blood. One of the Cardinals did so and handed him a cup. Iblis drank it fully before finishing up. "And yet the day that I searched for God's help...he never responded. To him, we were nothing but tools: pitiful little slaves that would do his binding and praise his justice where there was none. That is where I realized he was nothing more than a Tyrant...and sought the wisdom of our true father."
Making a pause, Iblis finally turned around to them, revealing himself. Lord Regent Iblis belonged to the Imp Species, but old at this point. He wore a black cassock with a black mantle and Mitre, just as The Leader of an entire religious institution should look like.
"And what about you two? Will you follow our Dark Lord's righteous path with devotion...or only to sate your own power?"
"If it means ending Heaven and Earth once and for all, why not both, Iblis..." Astaroth simply stated.
"Niiiice, those philosophical words...ugh, I love THEM!" Bee still was recovering from drunkenness.
"Good...Our Master expects nothing less."
Both Astaroth and Beelzebub turned to the left. And it seemed that they were not the only ones here. In the corner, there was a trio of demons. One was an Imp, not just an ordinary Imp, but Warlord Vulps of Satan's Legion, the Leader of Wrath's own Frumentarii Unit. He wore Wrath's Legionnaire Armor, painted in red, and wore headwear, which is the pelt from the head of the Hellhound Demon.
And the second was...well...everyone knew her. The female-looking Fallen Angel sat on the chair, wearing a gothic dress with a cloak and a dark cape. She was reading a Grimoire until she lowered it down, revealing who she was.
"Salutations, Astaroth and Beelzebub. The Universe seems to bring us all together in these times... even the ones who we did not expect to be here."
In the end, Beelzebub expected that Iblis would only invite her for the sake of her support of the Church...and yet, with Azazel being here...it has a far greater purpose than she anticipated.
Since Hell's inception, the will of the Seven Sins had been the law of its common demons. But making Hell's laws work was a completely different matter. The Monarchs of Sins all preferred to do their own thing while maintaining the absolute political power of their respective rings. Their overlords made certain that it was enforced, regardless of how they did it. However, assigning them to handle the bureaucracy was akin to assigning a peasant to manage the entire kingdom.
And entrusting that task to Ars Goetia was a risky move. Every Monarch was well aware that behind Ars Goetia's "We are loyal to Lucifer" façade lurked their own schemes and intrigues. King Leviathan got that memo earlier in his rule, and the rest preferred to keep Ars Goetia at bay. After all, they were Hell's masters before becoming vassals to the Seven Deadly Sins.
And that's where Azazel comes in.
Azazel, also known as Mistress of Dark Arts, Lady of Dark Lord, Professor of Dark Arts at Great University of Pandemonium, and Lucifer's Personal Advisor, was always a bit of a mystery in Inferno. Despite the fact that she was not a queen or even an Ars Goetian Demon, everyone respected her for her knowledge and advisory status. She granted the Dark Lord's wisdom to those who sought it and assisted those in need of assistance in the dark arts, regardless of their intentions.
But no matter how much positivity was spewed, there was always something...off with Azazel. And now that Beelzebub had seen The Great Witch again, it has only reinforced her feelings. Reading a mortal was simple, and even a Goetian Demon was not difficult...but with Azazel...and her...cold...emotionless disturbing façade...Beelzebub felt...uncanny.
"My Queen, I see you're tense because of my presence. But I assure you that Mephistopheles and I came here with good intentions." Azazel addressed the Queen in a flat tone. When Beelzebub heard Azazel's cold...voice, her wings twitched slightly.
"Maybe I'm drunk, but who said I'm scared of you?" Beelzebub defended herself by crossing her arms.
"Good question: You didn't say it, but you demonstrated it." Azazel emphasized before explaining. "But there is nothing to be ashamed of. Fear arises from the unknown and can be a very useful tool in protecting us from harm. However, it is often an inner voice and barrier that keeps us stuck. Understanding fear is the first step toward conquering it. After all, he who does not overcome fear on a daily basis has not discovered the secret of existence."
"Fear is also a useful tool to suppress dissidents." Astaroth pointed it out.
"You are correct, Astaroth...fear is a very effective tool in destroying an individual's soul... and the souls of many." Azazel gave a slow nod before returning her gaze to Lord Regent Iblis, who was already sitting on the chair near the table, waiting for the important conversation to begin. "And it appears that my Master's lackeys made the most of it."
"...Excuse me, my lady?" Lord Regent expressed humility, and Baphomet stroked his goatee beard as Azazel's words made him think...
"You already know what I said, Iblis." Azazel stated blandly, but even behind that cold voice...it seemed hostile.
Regardless, she returned her gaze to Beelzebub before motioning for the Queen and Duke Astaroth to take a seat. Nodding silently, Astaroth and Beelzebub joined the meeting. Only Azazel preferred to stand on the floor. The Duke cast a silent glance at Frumentari Vulps, and Azazel noticed it as well. She then inhaled to get started.
"Astaroth, the King of Wrath, has informed me that he will be unable to attend our meeting. In this conversation, Vulps of Satan’s Legion will be his ears."
1) "Ave, True To Satan." Warlord Vulps responded with a slow nod, pleased to see the loyal servant of the Conqueror of the 87 Imp Tribes.
"True to Satan..." Astaroth returned it quietly before focusing on Azazel. Azazel restarted once again after they demonstrated that they were ready.
"So, my Queen. Have you completed the task I gave to you?"
"Yeah...but like I'm not sure what the point is of infecting a Chinese bat. Are you attempting the same ruse with my Black Death?"
"Not exactly. Let's say Satan himself wants...how they say in Mortal Planes..." Azazel finds the proper words. "To do a little "trolling" on Humanity to keep them busy with their own stuff. Oh, and we had to make it look like Iblis was the one who invited you all."
"Let me guess: my so-called worthless ex-lover is once again with his games?" Beelzebub wondered in a bland manner, albeit knowing the answer. "(Bzz)e straight with me, Witch. What do you want from me?"
As Beelzebub's impulsiveness was a rare sight in Inferno, and for a good reason, almost no reaction was had by Azazel and the others. But she will honor the Gluttonous Queen's wish.
"Our Great Fly Beelzebub. Look around you and see what Lucifer has created. Inferno is nothing more than the decaying carcass of a once-great cause. Gone are the days when Lucifer promised to dethrone the False God... now he sits on his throne, purging anyone who criticizes his lack of action... is this the King of Hell we wanted?"
"Ah, I see." Beelzebub's antennas moved a bit from hearing this. She expected it would come to this. "So you're a Secret Ca(bzz)al of conspirers that wishes to overthrow Lucifer? My, My...how (bzz)old of you."
"Don't be manipulated by Lucifer's own lies, Beelzebub. There is no such thing as "Impossible to Defeat". Lucifer may have boasted that he was the first, but you must understand that neither of the two Primordial Spirits had favorites among us. We all came from the Divines' creation as equ-"
"False Divines." Iblis quickly interjected. He did it on purpose to make sure Azazel played the Dark Lord's narrative...and The Diabolical State's too. Azazel only glanced back, giving a cold glare before finishing what she wanted to say.
"As I was saying, look no further than Napoleon Bonaparte. As he conquered his fellow humans, his pride grew stronger. But the moment he showed signs of weakness, all of his friends and allies betrayed him. My master appreciated the irony of it. The moral of the story, Beelzebub, is that nothing exists without opposition. Even if Lucifer is the most powerful of all. You, the Six Rulers of Hell, continue to be a formidable foe to him."
"If you're asking me to fight him. Then my answer is no. Plus, there is no way the likes of Asmodeus, Mammon and Leviathan would join your cause. Even my own daughter would not like this."
"Leviathan is not on anyone's side, My Queen. Since the day that I fought against him during the War of Envious Independence. He showed that he only cares for himself." Astaroth commented. Credit was due; his arch nemesis was and is a formidable opponent.
2) "If only that would been the case, Amigo..." Warlord Vulps quietly responded with a grin. Duke returned the glance, recognizing that grin. Vulp's disturbing smile meant that King Satan himself already poked in Leviathan's private life. After all, The Frummentari Agents Of Satan's Legion were great at espionage and covert operations. The moment that if some Imp whackjob tried to organize the riots in Wrath Ring, that the Frummentari would already know of the plot and arrested him...before crucifying that profligate in Los Satanio.
"Later on Leviathan. Lucifer is what matters the most." Azazel commented, wanting to focus on that for now. "As for you, my Queen, You don't need to fight Lucifer in the end. Satan made sure everything would play out in his favor."
"Mind telling me the plan?" Beelzebub crossed her arms, grinning. There was a pause as the Queen decided to play this little game with them. "Also, how can you (bzz)e sure that I'm not just Lucifer's spy, sent here to disrupt your little conspiracy here?"
"If only...if only, Beelzebub. There are many spies all around us...not far from where you think." Azazel elaborated. She would then slowly shake her head, not wanting to play the game but knowing she had to. "And, second, you may have forgotten, but I was one of his "candidates" a long time ago...just like you."
Beezlebub's eyes opened in shock, not believing what she had just heard from Azazel's words.
"You're lying..." Queen of Gluttony accused with a quiet growl.
"Lying is not in my nature. The truth can be as harsh as a lie. And the truth is, Lucifer considered many options for who should be his queen through marriage: you, me, and Leviathan's daughter, Bethesda Von Eldritch. I refused immediately, and that left you and Bethesda."
"You seriously declined the Queen of Hell's title?" Beelzebub said in disbelief, still feeling strange that she had the opportunity to take the title and declined.
"Titles are spoils of war. To me, they are meaningless. I seek only knowledge and mastery of the arts in this existence. You and Bethesda sought otherwise: power through marriage... and in the end, he chose her."
Azazel then summoned a portrait of someone whom Beelzebub despised the most...
Source: https://www.pinterest.fr/pin/652599802254601873/
Beelzebub's left eye twitched; no seconds were needed for the Queen's anger to boil over to see her once again...
"That whore..." She growled before slamming her insectoid hand in anger.
THAT
FUCKING
WHORE!
In her rage, Beelzebub snatched the portrait from Azazel's hands and threw it against the wall, shattering it in the process. But she didn't stop here. Beelzebub stormed it and stomped on what was left of it, leaving nothing of the portrait. The Queen of Gluttony inhaled and exhaled, staring at the broken pieces. In the end, Beelzebub returned to the chair and crashed herself against it. She took a minute in silence before raising her head to look at the Grand Duke.
"(BZZ)ee's (BZZ)eetlejuice... now." She ordered in a growl. In an instant, Astaroth summoned a bottle of juice and it didn't take Queen Beelzebub long to grab it and "drink to forget." The rest, including Azazel, simply remained silent, waiting for the queen to calm down.
"To think I once loved that asshole with passion..." Beelzebub said to herself between taking shots. "The things we would have done if I had (bzz)een his Queen..." Beelzebub took a few shots, completely draining the bottle out of juice before throwing the bottle against the wall...much to Iblis’ disapproval. "Fine then...what you want?"
"Just support Satan in any way you can...that's all we ask."
"FIne then..." Beelzebub showed her insectoid finger to them, and with intoxication, began to do her part. "Just tell him this. Once Lucifer will be overthrown, I aspire to be the High Queen of Inferno..." She stopped to think for herself before realizing why she should really stop at "High Queen of Hell". "No, scratch that! The Empress of Hell! YES, EMPRESS (BZZ)EELZE(BZZ)U(BZZ) OF THE WHOLE FUCKING INFERNO, MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! "
Because of her intoxication, Beelzebub began to act like a Sunday cartoon villain. Ignoring that behaviour, Azazel cast a glance back at Astaroth, who had returned it...with a shrug.
"Astaroth...just send her back to her daughter."
With a grumble, Astaroth walked to Beelzebub and grabbed her hand. Upon the contact, Beelzebub yelped from the sudden cold attack.
"Hey, if you want to fuck me, just ask your queen first. There is no need to (bzz)e touchy and sh-"
She barely finished when Great Duke teleported her back. Now that's it's done, Azazel then focused on the rest.
"Astaroth, Warlord Vulps. We leave the "Leviathan's Matter" and Satan's personnal request to you both. The Sabbath is about to begin and we need our presence down in the main hall."
"Of course, my lady." Astaroth nodded with Warlord Vulps too.
"Then I bid you farewell for now. May you seek to strive for knowledge in the dark arts."
Azazel made a dramatic bow before leaving with Iblis and Baphomet to join the main event. Once they left, Warlord Vulps stood up from the chair to deliver the news from Lord Satan. He then brought his hands behind his back.
"Seviathan Von Eldritch is currently at Envy Ring..." Vulps simply explained, not needing the additional information for Astaroth.
"I see..." The Great Duke nodded, already understanding Satan's intentions in delivering this information. "Then, I will find someone to dwell on that problem. it's up to Leviathan's reaction if it was successful or not."
"Then Satan gives you his blessing to proceed forward, Astaroth." Vulps nodded, before continuing. "As for his personal request, summon me a map of Limbo, please."
The Grand Duke without a complaint, summoned a map that contains plans for Inferno's key positions around the occupied land of Limbo. He laid it on the table with Vulps walking up to examine the map.
"Not much has changed since last year, I'm afraid. After pacifying the Limbo for 100 years, I can at least 100% confirm that the Army of King Minos and Heaven's stragglers are long gone. There have been rumors of Minos's pre-war government being reorganized into a new remnant called "The Enclave". But so far, we haven't found any evidence of its existence. And recently, I declared that Outer Limbo is open for demonic recolonization. As for inner Limbo and Central Limbo, they are uninhabitable for at least 500 centuries..."
Vulps hummed in response, albeit not in a caring tone. Rouge Limbo was not a priority for Mighty Satan or his Legion, but only for the rebellious sheep folk who used it to infect Ring of Wrath's glory..
"We believe Legatus Moxxara resurfaced once again..."
Ambiance Music For Ring Of Wrath/Satan's Legion
"I see..." Astaroth murmured to himself. "Let me guess: The Son of The Devil is still obsessed with his ex-Warlord?"
"Cease your mockery at once, Lord Astaroth. Or you shall find yourself crucified for your degeneracy." Vulps threatened in a serious tone. It's not every day that an Imp threatens an Ars Goetian Demon. But since Vulps is a part of Legion and thus directly answers to Lord Satan, Astaroth had to comply.
"Very well." Astaroth sighed before shrugging. "I just find it worthless to chase after the rogue warlord. I'm sure Mighty Satan is busy with his own stuff."
"An ordinary warlord is a dangerous one. But a rogue one is even more unpredictable. And the warlords like Moxxara showed they can be both cunning and bold if needed. The mighty Satan does not want to deal with another rebellion any time soon."
"And the mighty Satan wants me to deal with this?"
"Indeed, my Frumentarii Unit was scouting the Great Plains Limbo just two days ago and reported an attack to me. The attackers were none other than the children of Satan: fellow imps like me. And do you know what colors they wore?"
"Enlighten me..."
"The colors of the Imp's Liberation Front." Vulps simply responded.
"Ah, an old Phantom Menace strikes back, it seems..." Astaroth chuckled before pondering himself, thinking what he could do...
"Since you're required to pacify the Limbo Ring, it would be best to put a bounty on Moxxara's head. And not long ago, you mentioned that you know an aspiring Imp from May's Farm Estate in Legatus Lucis's territories. Is she capable, as you say?"
"Capable, yeah. But I'm not sure she is-"
"Then find a solution to get rid of Moxxara's insurgency once and for all. The mighty Satan doesn't tolerate the failure of profligates."
"...Fine then. Inform our Mighty Satan that I will take up the task of ending Moxxara's rebellion once and for all." Astaroth decided to not complain.
"Good...then I shall deliver your words to the mighty Satan. 3) Vale, Lord Astaroth."
"Give Satan my best regards." Lord Astaroth nodded, creating a spell to teleport Warlord Vulpes back to the Ring of Wrath, before releasing a breath in frustration.
While he was alone in Lord Regent's chambers, Astaroth decided to walk up to the window, glancing at the Stygian Council's building from far away. Once upon a time, the Palace of the Great Ars Belial-Ra Goetia himself stood where the Stygian Council was. Even Pandemonium itself was built on the ruins of the Ars Goetian Empire's capital. Those were the days...unlike now.
Astaroth knew Satan wanted to get rid of him...handing him a task he would fail. The Warlords or rather "Legatuses" were not your ordinary Imps of Wrath. It's known as a fact that Warlords fought against Exorcists and won on some occasions. For that, The Great Duke of Ars Goetia could give Satan a huge credit. His Spartan- like Society where the Strongest will survive and the weak shall perish made Wrath the mightiest Ring of Hell. Hence, tracking Warlord Moxxara down won't be easy.
But even the brutality of Satan's Legion will not win the war against Heaven. Its Legions of Ars Goetia and its commanders are what will change the tide of this long war. And Astaroth, as long as he exists, will make sure that Inferno will achieve what Ars Goetian Empire could not do. Hence, he shall use his knowledge as a Commander of 40 Legions to prevail on his mission,
whether Satan likes it or not...
The Doors to Iblis's chamber were opened once again, with Astaroth's Legionnaire marching forward and entering inside, with the loud sound of armor clanking. He stopped abruptly and fixed his posture to report.
"My Lord, The Commander wants to report to you the arrival of some...surprising guests to the Sabbath."
"Who exactly?" Astaroth calmly responded, still glaring at the Stygian Council.
"Great Marquis Phenex and Chancellor Adramelech himself, my lord."
Astaroth's expression dropped in instant upon hearing Phenex's name...just what he need right now.
"Devil preserve me..."
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/Few Blocks Away from Dis's main entrance.
*A few minutes before*
The sheer cold temperature of the Eighth Ring was something Phenex despised about Old Ars Goetia and later Pandemonium. She recalled that Pandemonium once had volcanic terrain...and lava saunas were a thing. Oh, what she should have paid to have the saunas returned back...if only.
But old habits die quickly nowadays. After all, she was nothing more than a minor noble at that time, spending most of her time doing nothing. Technically, she still was...but it's nothing compared to what it was back in the day. Because of her seniority, all of the Marquises of Ars Goetia answer directly to her. And organizing them is like dealing with toddlers who complain about anything they find offensive...a feeling she shares with Astaroth a lot, if he wasn't such a jerk.
And speaking of.
While her new besties were busy dragging their encased leader to the surface, Phenex took the opportunity to deal with her own little problem. And so, as of right now, she sat on a large crate in some corner of the street, holding an expensive- looking telephone while conjuring little flames with her free hand, warming herself from the freezing temperature.
"♪ Believe me, my little swan. These things happen throughout the history of Ars Goetia, hmm yes. ♪"
*unintelligible voice from phone*
"♪ Why yes, ever heard the story of Amdusias and Gamigin? Their loveless marriage caused a civil war here in Ars Goetia. Astaroth and I had to calm them down before the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins would have intervened, hmm yes. ♪"
*unintelligible voice from phone*
Phenex chuckled at first before responding. "♪ True enough, I suppose. Your father and Paimon could have at least written an agreement for an open relationship- type marriage. But it seems their stupidity got them, hmm yes. ♪"
*unintelligible voice from phone*
" ♪ Oh, please. No offense, but he only cared for more power from Paimon. I know your father well enough to know that he only cares to get himself closer to Ars Bael, hmm yes. ♪"
*unintelligible voice from phone*
" ♪ I do understand that your marriage with Stolas is pretty bad, my dear. As an Ars Goetian Elector, I promise that I'll put your complaint to the Diet, but that's where I draw the line, I'm afraid, hmm yes. ♪"
Suddenly, the manhole not far away from her was tossed away with one of the Exorcists, now disguised as Phenex's Legionnaire, crawling out of the hole. He gestured for the rest to bring their leader up. While they were busy, Phenex decided to finish the conversation for now.
"♪ I have to end the call soon, my niece. But please listen, my little swan. In the end, you should focus on your daughter to become the next spirit of Ars Goetia. That's what matters in the end, hmm yes. ♪"
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ I know, I know...I love you too, Stella. Tell that Great Aunt Phenex misses her little owlet with the flaming heart... please give Octavia the best kisses from me, okay? Bye, my dearest. ♪" Phenex ended the call and desummoned her phone. She would take a second to get a hold of herself...and wipe the tear from her eye. Poor Stella...if only Phenex could have predicted Andras's true intentions.
But in the end, she jumped out of the crate and joined the rest of her new besties, who struggled with the statue to bring her to the surface.
"♪ Enjoying yourselves, darlinis? ♪" Phenex chuckled as she stopped near Rönne. The Exorcist Gunslinger gestured for Aikaterine to hold the statue while he delivered what he felt right now to the Great Marquis.
"You could have teleported Jeanne to the surface instead of us dragging her here!" Rönne exclaimed, in a baffled tone.
"...♪ How silly of me. I should have thought earlier about that, hmm yes ♪" Phenex shrugged with a chuckle. It's something she wholeheartedly agreed with what Rönne said.
"BLADE PREVENTS TO FIT IN, RÖNNE! SHE IS STUCK DOWN THERE!" Aikaterine grunted, clutching the encased Jeanne to keep her from falling back to the sewers.
"♪ Aw, the story of all relationships. ♪" Phenex felt a need to make a sultry joke, causing the Gunslinger to slap his armor-plated face. "♪ Alright, you had your fun, hmm yes. ♪"
Phenex snapped her fingers, and it took no seconds for Marbled Jeanne to appear just a few feet away from the Great Marquis. Now that it's done, both Aikaterine and Samurai Miu climbed from the manhole, wiping the dust off.
"So, what now?" Rönne asked Phenex. She responded with a smile before bringing her hands to wipe the dust from his armor. After all, her legionaries must look both deadly and exotic.
"♪ Now, my handsome. You will just keep your mouth shut while this Phoenix handles the rest. ♪"
Phenex without any explanation, then went towards the main street, gesturing to the Exorcists to follow her. Samurai Miu and Aikaterine grabbed and lifted the statue, while Rönne followed Phenex.
Eventually, they arrived at the main street, not far away from the Walls of Dis. Phenex looked to the left and noticed a carriage with at least 20 Demons in Royal Armor, traveling on the road. Phenex kissed her hand and waved at them, also making a jump so that they knew she wanted their attention.
One of the guards flew and landed in front of them, bringing his spear and pointing it at Phenex's face, with the tip nearly touching her beak. "State your business, Marquis."
"♪ My business is not anyone's concern, Malebranche Guard. But I would like to speak with Malacoda or Chief Alastor, hmm yes ♪"
"Well, well, well. Senate Guards...And where Malebranche is, the Chancellor is also there." Eve's voice emitted from inside the Exorcist's earsets. Neither Phenex nor that guard heard the voice of Mother Eve.
In fact, Malebranche Demons were Senate Guards of the Stygian Council, tasked with protecting the building, the Chancellor of Pandemonium, and the Barrators (Senators if using Mortal Terms) of the Seven Deadly Sins. Originally, their duty was to force the corrupt barrators to stay under the surface of a boiling lake of pitch. They technically still do that too, but now they're fully Senatorial Guard at the present time.
The Malebranche Demon turned around and flew towards Captain-General Malacoda. It took a one minute for the guard to explain before Malacoda then walked towards the carriage, knocking against its frame.
"What now!?"
"My Lord, Phenex Goetia requests your presence."
It's the only thing Phenex and the Alpha Squad heard from far away as the carriage began to move again. Much to Great Marquis' surprise, the carriage stopped at the edge of the road near them, with its door opening and another robed demon leaving from the carriage. That demon was a humanoid demon, with some of his parts having the appearance of a mule and with the peacock's fancy tail. But obviously, The Exorcists, Phenex, and Eve from the Exorcist's visor transmission knew who he was:
Grand Chancellor Adramelech Goetia himself.
"Phenex Goetia, a surprise to be sure...but a welcome one, my friend." The Chancellor of Inferno went to embrace Phenex in a tight hug. Phenex enthusiastically responded, happy to see the Old Guard from King Belial's court.
"♪ It's been eons, Adram. You look thin since the last time I saw you, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex complimented him, releasing him from her embrace.
"Ah, you know how it is..." Adramelech waved his hand off, not wanting to focus on that. "What brings you here?"
"♪ Going to Dis for the Sabbath as Lucifer's eyes and ears. I heard you were coming too, hmm yes. ♪"
"Well, I do...but I didn't hear any mention from the King himself about you." Adramelech awkwardly responded.
"♪ That's the point, Adram...♪" Phenex winked at him before gesturing at his carriage. "♪ Could you lift me up to Dis? My driver's carriage got stuck somewhere on his way here. And I need this statue to be delivered to her majesty Beelzebub, hmm yes. ♪"
Before responding with the verdict, Adramelech went to encase Jeanne, wanting to check the statue by himself. He brought his hand to his chin, admiring the work.
"Impressive, not everyday you see an impressive statue of our great enemies. Who is the sculptor, by the way?"
"♪ Eh, I will tell you on the road, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex then gestured with his head to the carriage. "♪ Shall we, Adram?♪ "
The Chancellor nodded at her before pointing his finger at Malacoda. "Take the statue to the cargo carriage, Captain-General."
"Yes, Chancellor." Malacoda bowed his head. He then went to the Jeanne and lifted it with his one hand, surprising the exorcists at how strong he was. This could be problematic, considering the Malebranches used to be Royal Guards of Lucifer, prior to his relocation to newly founded Pentagram City in Pride.
But now that everything was finished, Phenex and Adramelech Goetia climbed onto the carriage, with Phenex gesturing to one of the exorcists to join them inside. Due to Rönne's armor having a far more decorative design compared to Aikaterine and Miu, the trio agreed that Rönne should go with Phenex while they joined with the Malenbranche Guards outside. And so, they went their ways, with Rönne climbing up and closing the door.
Their carriage would start to move once again. Phenex took a moment to check the interior design before commenting.
"♪ Nice design, Adram. Commissioned by Mulciber? ♪"
"Seems I'm not the only one who appreciates his craftsmanship." The Chancellor chuckled back, glad they both shared the sentiment. But the Chancellor then addressed the important question. "So Phenex, what is going on with our Majesty Lucifer and you?"
"♪ What's really to say to you ♪" Phenex sighed before answering. "♪ Our King doesn't trust the Diabolical States in the slightest. Send me here to be a spy on the Sabbath, hmm yes. ♪"
"Yeah...figured as much." Adram shook his head in irony. "Makes sense, considering how Iblis tried to persuade me to sell Pandemonium to him."
"♪ And you're declined? ♪"
"Of course, what would Lucifer think of me?!" Adramelech sarcastically responded. "You and I both know that Iblis wants theocracy for Inferno. It's easier to spew his Dark Lord bullshit for the rest of us that way."
"♪ For sure...♪" Phenex slowly nodded. "♪ I know you're not religious, but why are you joining the Sabbath, hmm yes? ♪"
The Chancellor at first turned his eyes away from her, trying to hide his shame. But since he knew Phenex and could rely on her, he felt he needed to be open to her.
"The Treasury of Pandemonium is broke, Phenex. The cold weather doesn't help, and the Monarchs don't want to invest in Inferno's Capital if I don't provide more favorable deals with them. Satan wanted his garrison here, Mammon to buy out Pandemonium's assets, Leviathan told me to "show off, Parasite" and the rest just ignored me..."
"♪ Hmm. And what about our Majesty ♪?" Phenex asked while she checked her talons and noticed her claws were not fixed properly, so she summoned a nail file to fix them.
"If only..." Adrammelech shook his head in disappointment. "Our Majesty ordered me to remain 'neutral but aligned to me' no matter what. Hence, I asked him a few times for an investment. But he told me he wasted all his money on lollipops...and referred to me not by my name but as "The Senate" for some reason..."
"Classic Lucifer." Eve commented on the Exorcist's earsets with an amusing tone. Although the Alpha Squad kept silent as Phenex demanded. Their conversation provided a lot of insight into Inferno's inner politics, something that will help Heaven gain an advantage in future conflicts.
"♪ Well...lollipops are pretty tasty at least, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex went for a compromise, still fixing her claws before adding further. "♪ So did you find any solutions? ♪"
"I signed some contracts at first. One with Crown Prince Cain Magne for me to provide "Sinner Cattle'' for Caina... which is why I allow some Sinners to enter the Capital. Another was with some strange sinners with weird runes on their helmets. But still, it didn't help the economy. Hence, with no options left, I will go on compromise with the Diabolical States for their financial support.”`
"♪ You sure Lucifer won't be angry? ♪" Phenex stopped for a second, polishing her claws. "♪ Remember what happened with Crocell? ♪"
"Crocell Goetia was a traitor, Phenex. I won't sell the capital to the Iblis, just allow even more freedom of movement for their officials." Adramelech noted in a high tone before sighing. "Please understand I never wanted to be Chancellor in the first place..."
"♪ Oh, I remember. Lucifer just picked a rando from us...no offense, of course, hmm yes. ♪"
"None taken." The Chancellor slowly nodded before changing the topic. "So, what's with that statue of yours?"
"♪ A gift for Beelzebub, as I'm not exactly invited to the Sabbath. The jest is, do you know the Mortal named Jeanne d'Arc? It so happens that it's her encased in marble, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex casually said, as if it happens so often for her to not even bother with that. Even Captain-General Malacoda glanced at the Chancellor in disbelief. It must be some kind of joke.
"...You're not serious, are you?" Adramelech asked sincerely.
"♪ Do I look like I'm joking, hon ♪?"
"Then how in Lucifer's name did you manage to capture her?"
"♪ One of my Marquises under me spotted an Exorcist Scout Party in the Pride Ring a few hours ago. He managed to encase her before she could respond. Long story short, he gave her to me as a tribute, hmm yes. ♪ "
"Makes sense with that striking pose, My Lord. And it is surprising to find they are violating their own peace treaty." Malacoda pointed out.
"Yeah...weird." Adramelech nodded to Malacoda's words...something is very fishy.
"♪ Adram, come on. What do you really expect from an Afterlife of Hypocrites doing hypocritical stuff? And what's next: their Exorcists are righteous knights in shining armors?! ♪ '' Phenex purposely played along, although Rönne rolled his eyes behind the plated helmet of his.
"From what I heard, The Exorcists are quite formidable opponents in the higher rings. I'm sure they will have a plan B in case of situations like this, Phenex. Is it safe to bring her here? I mean...she is an Exorcist ."
"♪ Chancellor Adramelech...Exorcists are my specialty, hmm yes ♪." Phenex grinned, bringing her hand to her chest as if swearing the oath.
"I hold you to that..." Adram decided to end it, entrusting Phenex.
The rest of their little trip remained silent, eventually reaching the main entrance to the DIs Enclave. The Iron Gates opened immediately upon noticing the Chancellor's carriage, allowing them to enter freely. Eventually, they would arrive at AP. Baphomet Square and stop where a parking spot for visitors normally is.
For some reason, with Phenex stalling, Chancellor Adramelech and Malacoda left the carriage first. The Great Marquis coughed purposefully, hoping Rönne would notice her. Phenex then crossed her arms and motioned with her hand for Rönne to be a gentleman as soon as he caught his eye on her. The disguised exorcist groaned...but, to blend in, Rönne exited the carriage and extended his hand to Phenex to help her leave the carriage.
"♪ See...you can be a gentleman sometimes... ♪ '' Phenex chuckled sultrily, accepting his hand and leaving the carriage. Miu and Aikaterine would also join them, forming a defensive formation around Phenex.
The captain-General with Malebranche's remained behind to unload the cargo, including the encased Jeanne and their crate with the Exorcist's blessed weapons. While they were busy, Phenex and her "escort" followed Chancellor Adramelech towards the main Basilica. Aikaterine, under the illusion that she was checking corners for Phenex's safety, actually checked the Dis for herself.
" (whistle of admiration*) looks like they didn't cut corners on expenditure." Aikaterine whispered into their internal communication link.
"It shows their power, doesn't it?" Eve commented in their earsets. "Vatican States did the same thing. Under this beautiful façade lies corruption and power hunger in medieval times."
"Fair point...speaking off: Is Vatican City back on the Mortal Plane as beautiful as they say?" Miu asked his siblings in the Exorcism Knighthood.
"My mother once was in Mecca for her entire life while I was busy running away from the Greek Revolutionaries. That's up to Rönne to answer. "
"Guys, I was a German immigrant in America in the early 20th century. How in the Heavens should I know?" Rönne showed annoyance in his tone.
"Then what faith did you follow?" Aikaterine asked in an amusing tone.
"...Agnosticism." Rönne awkwardly responded. It caused Aikaterine to wheeze out before responding.
"Heard that, Mother Eve? Our Warrior of Heaven is agnostic, apparently!" The Demolition Exorcist returned with a quick laugh.
"May I remind you that the Covenant does not discriminate based on their beliefs, Aikaterine. Our knight over here is free to believe in his own interpretation. Same with you." Mother Eve explained in their earsets, although also not amused by the Turkish Woman's sarcasm.
"I hope this logic doesn't apply to Satanists." Rönne needed to point that out.
"Depending on their sect and their actions...I will share with you that Providence influenced The Church of Satan in the United States to be about Freedom of Soul...rather than worshiping the Devil."
"Is there anything that our ' Eye of Providence' didn't get its hands on?" Aikaterine added.
"Truth to be told...would be surprising if it wasn't the case." Eve responded with a chuckle.
At this point, they reached toward the main basilica and entered inside. Since the Sabbath was about to start, both Chancellor and Phenex remained quiet. So did the Exorcists, carefully blending in with the crowd but observing their surroundings, noting anything that would gain an advantage with the next major part of the operation.
As they walked through the hallway, there was another Ars Goetian Demon, pacing towards the exit. At first, neither Phenex nor he reacted when they passed each other. But the Ars Goetian Demon would then stop and turn around, wanting to hear his rival's voice.
"Phenex, Adramelech...what a surprise." He simply said it. Phenex would close her eyes for a second, growling before opening them and turning around.
"♪ Great Duke Astaroth. The moment I felt that foul stench, I already knew it was you. ♪" Phenex responded with strong sassiness...ex-servant of Archangel Uriel, after all.
"Still a raging bitch, huh?" Astaroth smirked to himself; never dull moments with the Great Marquis. He would bring his arms behind his back as he got closer to them. "No wonder Stella inherited her anger from you. You and your great- niece are like a pair of boots, not complete without one another."
"Show some respect to Phenex, Astaroth. Ars Belial would not have allowed this kind of behavior." Chancellor Adramelech stood up to Phenex.
"Belial is long dead, Adramelech. And don't you dare tell me what I should do or not." Great Duke threatened back.
"You are either stupid or insane to insult the Chancellor of the Stygian Council!" Adramelech counterattacked.
"You?!" Astaroth exclaimed in an amusing tone. "I don't give a single drop of shit on who you are, Adramelech. You're nothing but Lucifer's puppet, who only assigned you because he didn't want Capital City to fall into the King of Wrath's hands. If it wasn't the case, His Majesty could have removed you, and no one would have even noticed your absence. And do you know why: because you're useless to Inferno."
"Lies!" Adramelech barked back.
"We didn't need to look far away to see the results of your Chancellorship. Pandemonium's agony and rump state speak for themselves."
"Son of a bitch, you fucking with-" Adramelech wanted to tell everything he felt right now, but stopped when another voice interjected their fight. No one other than Lord Regent Iblis arrived at their little scene, wondering what the commotion was.
"What's the meaning of this?!" Iblis demanded, striking his Diablo ferula against the floor.
"Ah, My Lord! Glad you joined us! Seems like me and Her Majesty Beelzebub are not the only ones who were invited." Astaroth greeted him once again with a mocking tone.
Lord Regent ignored Astaroth's words and instead exchanged tense glances with Chancellor Adramelech, as if two rivals were preparing for the grand chessboard game. From the Exorcist's visor transmission, Eve witnessed the biggest players in Inferno...this New Year's Eve is perhaps the most interesting she's had in recent years.
The Exorcists, on the other hand, despite being silent, also considered their options for their procedure. But with the presence of the Chancellor, Lord Regent Iblis, Great Duke Astaroth Goetia and Queen Beelzebub of Gluttony, already had their huge risks. And hence, it's up to Phenex for them to rely on for now...
"I expected only the Chancellor, but not you too, Great Marquis Phenex." The Unholiness directed his attention to Phenex instead, not saying a word to the Chancellor.
"♪ Lucifer's envoy. And I brought the gifts. ♪"
Phenex then raised her left arm for the rest to take a look at the Malenbranches, who are dragging the statue and the crate. Astaroth walked up to the statue, wanting to examine it thoughtfully.
"Hmm, Anathema's servant, I presume?" Astaroth commented. He caressed Jeanne's arm to feel the smooth marble material, admiring it.
"♪ Big Brain Statement, Astaroth. But yes, that's Jeanne d'arc encased in marble. ♪"
As soon as the Lord Regent heard it, he paced towards the statue, pushing Astaroth away and deciding for himself whether Phenex was lying or not. Indeed, Jeanne's symbols were present in her Exorcist Armor. He was obviously aware that the common spell of stonization was used on Jeanne.
"At long last...Anathema's own bitch has been apprehended!" Iblis shook his head, finding it difficult to say this. The Devil protects him... This is a big win over Archangel Michael. "Phenex, my Dark Lord's child. By bringing her here, you did the Devil's work. I declare you to be cleansed of your virtues and canonized as Apostle Phenex by Diabolical States from now on."
"♪ I'm honored, my lord. But this gift was meant for Beelzebub. ♪" Phenex bowed her head to Unholiness. But as soon as she stopped bowing, she would give the middle talon finger to Astaroth, causing the Great Duke to grumble in a quiet tone.
"Doesn't matter to whoever it goes to. Still great news for the entire Inferno." Iblis responded back before clapping his hands for the rest to listen to his voice. "Everyone! For this Sabbath, I declare the commitment to the Deadly Sin of Lust! Free Debauchery and Orgies for everyone!"
Those in the vicinity cheered and clapped their hands when they heard the news...only the Succubus Nuns and Incubus Altar Boys were disappointed. The difficult task of their commitment to the Devil and Asmodeus is about to begin. The Exorcists remained silent, despite Eve's laughter at Iblis's nativity and decision to perform orgy. Inferno, eh...as above, so below.
"Then I hope you don't choke on someone's dick, Phenex. Because I must continue to perform the duties of Ars Goetia." Astaroth mocked, before returning his attention to the Lord Regent. "My Lord, I've left a Legion detachment here in case someone tries to be stupid today. Enjoy the Sabbath..."
Astaroth then bowed his head to Iblis before turning around and leaving the Basilica, pushing Phenex away from his path.
"♪ Have fun being a perpetual virgin, horn boy! ♪" Phenex called out. Astaroth didn't respond and just disappeared from their sight. "♪ And speaking of horn boys, where is Her Majesty Beelzebub, your unholiness? ♪"
"Not here right now, but she will come back later." Iblis responded calmly. "In the meantime, you can store our old friend in our Treasury Chambers for now. My guards will escort yours."
"♪ Good idea. ♪ '' Phenex nodded, glancing at the Exorcists and winking at them. Both Alpha Squad and Eve from the transmission, understood Phenex's intentions. Hence, they silently agreed back.
"You there!" Iblis pointed to the nearest guard on the corner. "Show them the Treasury Chamber!"
"Yes, my lord!" The Diablo Guard saluted back and marched towards another halfway. The Exorcists took the crate and the cart that Jeanne was on and followed the guard to wherever he led them. Once they disappeared, Iblis would then offer something as a reward for bringing Jeanne here.
"Phenex, my dear. While we may disagree on how we should handle the Inferno. Could you perhaps join us as a welcome guest at Sabbath. There are plenty of drinks, food, and maybe even partners if you feel...itching."
"♪ Thank you, my Lord. But I must remain stoic for the rest of the day. But I will check out the drinks at least. ♪"
"Then may the Dark Lord watch us in pride. Enjoy yourself."
Iblis gave a nod with a smile before Phenex walked away towards the main hall. Now that Iblis and Adramelech remained, the Lord Regent would take another glance at his rival. Not trusting that heretic in any capacity.
"Come to my chambers after the Sabbath if you want to discuss about my church and the Stygian Council, Chancellor. Enjoy the celebration for now..."
"Very well..." Adramelech nodded, with Iblis leaving to attend to his own matters. The Chancellor signaled for Malenbranches to return to the Stygian Council. No need now that Astaroth's Legionaries and Diabolical Guards secured this place good enough...
In the meantime, the Diabolical Guard led exorcists down the lower stairs to the chamber. Eventually arriving at it. Inside, there were two more Diabolical Guards guarding the main treasury gates. So far, so good, as the saying goes. Fortunately, with Astaroth gone and Beelzebub absent for the time being, the chances of success have increased significantly. And, thanks to Phenex, the treasure chamber could be a good place to put on Exorcist armor again.
"Open the doors! Our Unholiness gave the order." The Guard commanded. The other two saluted and pushed levers to open the gates automatically. The same guard then entered the Treasury, with exorcists following them. It is already explained to them why Dis appears to be 100 times more attractive than the rest of Pandemonium. The Treasury appears to be filled with gold from the Ars Theurgian Era of Inferno.
"Alpha Squad, it's best for you to secure the treasury. Get rid of them quietly." Eve spoke through their ears.
"Place it here." The Diabolical Guard motioned for Rönne to move the cart forward and stop where the guard instructed. Once he was done, Rönne would then ask.
"Care to help your fellow demons with the statue?"
"What? You can't by yourselves?" The Dis guard crossed his arms in an amusing voice..
"Sorry, we cannot." Alkatriene responded, walking up to Rönne.
"Bad Devil, Lord Astaroth was so right about you... you're a bunch of weaklings, after all!" The Diabolical Guard groaned, but had to help them regardless. "Alright, fine. You two, come here! "
The two guards who opened the gate paced inside, passing the exorcists as they made their way to help with the lifting. Rönne then returned his gaze to his comrades.
"Ready to deliver justice?"
"With pleasure..." Aikaterine drew her blessed dagger from its sheath under her crimson cloak. Miu and Rönne also then drew their own blessed daggers and charged at the Dis Guards.
"What's up with - WHAT THE DE-"
The Diabolical Guards were on the verge of reacting, but it was too late. Alpha Squad struck first, thrusting their knives into their necks. The Guards attempted to fight back against them, but it was already futile. The exorcists laid their bodies gently on the floor after they stopped resisting, preferring not to make loud noises.
"Good job, Alpha!" Eve smiled at them, despite them not knowing that. She would then return to her serious demeanor. "Now, get dressed back and wait for Phenex to come back and defrost our Jeanne."
"Understood, ma'am." Rönne responded on their behalf, removing the Goetian helmet and slowly changing back into his Exorcist armor.
"Wait until we get home and tell the entire story. The feast will undoubtedly be organized by the entire order for our deeds." Aikaterine remarked as she removed her gauntlets.
"That is, if we return." Rönne sighed, hoping that everything was going well. Still, there was a sense that something was wrong with the mission.
While exorcists were redressing. Phenex had already arrived at Basicilla's main hall. She needed to check the area around where Iblis would be during the Sabbath celebration, as agreed with Uriel. But, of course, first things first...
Food Table.
Phenex would approach the table where Cardinal Baphomet was serving Caina's best wine to guests throughout the Inferno. When Phenex approached him, she gave the Cardinal a silent greeting nod. He did respond quietly, taking a cup and pouring it before passing it to Phenex.
The Great Marquis accepted it, raising her cup to Baphomet before departing. She approached the nearest column, as if to admire the hall and its visitors. In reality, Phenex would look for anything that could help her new friends. So far, the Great Marquis can see that the main hall is wide open, implying that exorcists have many options for assassinating Iblis. She did notice the balconies where the choir normally performs. Only the fifth-floor balconies were empty. It got her thinking...
"Phenex! Don't just stand there. Join us!" Adramelech's voice called out for her. The Great Marquis sighed but quickly changed her expression into a bright smile, before waking up to the group of Ars Goetian Demons: Young Marquis Andreaphalus, Chancellor Adramelech himself, and Great Prince Sitri.
"♪ I was under the impression you were with Iblis right now, Adram. ♪" Phenex added her voice to their little gossiping group.
"I'm afraid after the Sabbath only, Phenex..." Adramelech sighed as he sipped his wine before gesturing at the rest. "I'm sure you remember your fellow Great Prince Sitri."
"Nice to see you again, nya!" Great Prince Sitri raised his cup in Phenex's honor.
"It's wonderful to see you here, Aunt." Andreaphalus greeted.
"♪ Flattered, Andre ♪" Phenex nodded before turning to face Sitri. "♪ Seems like we're getting close to having the Old Guard from Belial's time here, hmm yes. ♪"
"So I was told. Astaroth appears to have left, though...I saw him with her Majesty Beelzebub, nya." Sitri shrugged at the end.
"He was in a hurry. But had the opportunity to insult our Phenex." Adram chuckled as he sipped another glass of wine.
"The old beef still continues between you two, nya?"
"♪ As if it will ever stop. ♪" Phenex exhaled a sigh. "♪ I wished the Satanic Triumvirate allowed me just to get over with and burn Astaroth to the ground...♪"
"Funny, Phenex. But sometimes you have to burn yourself to the ground before you can rise like a phoenix from the ashes, nya" Sitri chuckled in a mocking tone.
"♪ What's that supposed to mean? ♪" Phenex pressed her left hand against her hip, demanding explanations.
"It means you need to chill out sometimes, Phenex. Women like you always bitch about gents like Astaroth, who in reality want the best for Ars Goetia, nya."
"♪ You could have said that you want Astaroth to shove his dick up your ass, then I would accept your words, asshole. ♪" Phenex responded with a passive-aggressive bark.
"See, Andre?!" Sitri nudged Andreaphalus. "What I said about women: all they do is get angry at men for no reason. It's no surprise we males are the rational ones, nya."
Phenex's expression had changed to a death stare at this point. Great Prince Sitri has now been added to Phenex's list of people she wishes to burn alive. But, of course, Inferno would kill her for this behavior...but who says she can't cause some little harmless havoc?
"♪ Gentlemen...it's been a good talk with you, but I must leave now. ♪"
The Great Marquis would then purposefully spill her cup on Sitri's exquisite fur, causing him to yelp.
"Nya, what the Devil, Phenex!" Sitri objected, but Phenex simply ignored him and just left them alone; to say the Great Marquis was irritated is an understatement.
"And that's why you don't piss off my Aunt." Andreaphalus said to himself.
"A bitch is what she is..." Sitri wiped the wine from his fur...before it got him an idea...still it's itching him down there. "Say, Andre...would you mind helping me clean my fur at least, meow?"
"You mean..." Andreaphalus said, before realizing. "Oh, hohoho, you naughty panther! How can I refuse such an offer?"
"Then why are we standing here, meow?" Sitri purred in delight.
The Great Prince took Andreaphalus' hand and led him away from the celebration to a private place, leaving the befuddled Adramelech alone. But after a few seconds, the Chancellor Of Inferno simply shook his head, delivering the verdict on this whole incident.
"And some wonder why Ars Goetia is in a pile of shit right now."
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave/The Basilica of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ/Lower Levels.
Phenex took her time making her way to the Treasury Chambers. Her mind was consumed by the desire to burn this fucking place.... Fuck Astaroth...Fuck Sitri...Fuck Stolas. It's funny how she tried to be reasonable with everyone. She attempted to collaborate with Astaroth, but his pride was paramount. And Sitri...fuck him with all fury.
“To terrify children with the image of hell, to consider women an inferior creation—is that good for the Universe?” A familiar voice engulfed to the left. Phenex Goetia stopped and - Oh, no...
Not her!
A woman in a black dress and cloak sat in the Halfway, writing something on her Grimoire. She would come to a halt and desummon it before rising.
"♪ Lady Azazel? ♪" Phenex expressed surprise.
"Greetings, Lady of Rebirth. And once again, the fates of many decided to unite us together." Azazel approached her.
"♪ I'm sorry, but I have to leave now. ♪" Phenex would walk away quickly. She did turn back to see if Azazel was still there...but she wasn't. However, as soon as she turned her head forward, Azazel was already in front of her, blocking her path. It nearly scared the Phoenix Demon, causing her to back off.
The Great Witch stood silently, first observing Phenex before extending her hand forward, emitting a black smoke. A key emerged from the fog.
"Because you are unwilling to speak freely with me. Consider this instead..." Azazel stated simply, waiting for the Marquis to pick up the key. Phenex would look back and forth at Azazel, unsure of the Witch's intentions. The Phoenix Demon carefully approached Azazel before quickly snatching the key from her hands, hoping it wasn't a trap.
"♪ But why would I need that? ♪"
"Because Iblis must die today...and the fifth floor will be empty for your friends to fulfill their purpose." Azazel coldly responded. The witch would then turn around and just walk away.
"♪ C-care to elaborate? ♪" Phenex asked sincerely.
"I won't..." Azazel spoke up. But as soon as the Phoenix Demon blinks... Azazel has vanished...just poofed from existence.
Phenex examined the key once more and clutched it, looking back at where Azazel just vanished. Something is seriously wrong. She can only guess why Azazel wants Iblis dead. Eh, fine. Let the exorcists honor both Lucifer and Azazel's wishes.
Wasting no time, she used the lower stairs to get to the Treasury Chambers of Dis. There, she discovered her exorcist friends, already dressed back in their original armor and armed with blessed weapons. And they have already killed at least six guards of Dis. Surprisingly, three of the six were redressed in Phenex's armors.
"♪ That's clever. This renders me innocent during the chaos. ♪" Phenex chuckled as she approached them. "Is everyone ready?"
"With the exception of her..." Aikaterine indicated Phenex with her finger at the statue, hinting that way. Meanwhile, she was admiring the Goetian Coins, which were pre-Inferno Lucifer's historical artifacts.
"♪ Ah, yes...nearly forgot about our dear Jeanne. ♪" Phenex chuckled as she approached the statue and simply pressed her hand against it. The Jeanne was defrosted in an instant and about to collapse on the floor when Samurai Miu quickly caught their leader and the sword to avoid making a loud noise.
4) "Je le jure, je suis innocent!" Jeanne exclaimed, only for her to open her eyes and find herself not in Rouen but...somewhere else. "Where am I?"
"♪ Just as I told you. ♪" Phenex approached Jeanne and bent over to look directly at her. "♪ Welcome to Dis: the Cultural and Unholy City of Inferno. I hope you have a pleasant stay. ♪"
Jeanne, of course, ignored the Phenex's childish games and got herself on the foot with the help of Rönne and Miu. She would then re-establish their communication link with Heaven.
"Mother Eve, you’re there?"
"Affirmative. How are you feeling, Jeanne?"
"Like when I was burned alive..." Jeanne sighed and shook her head. "What did I miss?"
"Phenex aided your squad in getting them and you into Dis. You are currently in the treasury of Dis." Eve explained it.
"So you didn't outplay us..." Jeanne would take a few seconds to adjust herself before nodding to the squad that she was fine.
"♪ Aww, aren't you cute when you feel regretfull? Of course, I would have not betrayed you. ♪" Phenex responded flatteringly. "♪ I always keep my end of the bargain. And now that you've admitted your mistake. I'll give you a special present. ♪"
Phenex then gave them the same master key that Azazel had given her. The exorcists presumed she snatched it from someone, hence Jeanne nodded in thanks, already knowing how much it would help them.
"♪ And, if it's alright with you, I'd like to borrow a blessed knife from our gentlemen over here. ♪" She pointed her finger at the German Gunslinger.
"What for?" Rönne inquired solemnly.
"♪ Don't make the lady beg, sweetheart. Just trust her. ♪" Phenex chuckled, completely changing the subject.
"In that case, no." Rönne shook his head in no. If she won't share, then he won't share as well.
"♪ Come on, we're all buddies here. How will I defend myself in the midst of your chaos...♪"
"If you don't tell me your intentions, then no."
"♪ Would you please...pretty please? ♪" Phenex pleaded with him. She also made her lips quiver on purpose...it always worked in her favor.
Exorcist Rönne would turn away, attempting to counter Phenex's phony pleading. Nonetheless, Phenex would clutch her hands and drop to her knees. Worse, she made a sad puppy face...the same trick Zadkiel used earlier. But in the end, he had failed Phenex's game and groaned in frustration, handing her his knife as a sign of trust.... Goddammit, what's with the puppy eyes that they're his greatest weakness...or is he truly despising himself because he made a lady beg?
"♪ You're the best, honey! ♪" Phenex took the knife and stood up, as if she never did in the first place. To at least express her gratitude, Phenex smooched her own hand and created a heart-shaped flame before sending it towards him. Before Rönne could react, the flaming heart collided with his mask, leaving a small burn mark in the shape of a heart on his mask.
"How adorable." Aikaterine laughed like a girl, causing Rönne to look at her slowly and simply make her silent with his death glare...but she still grinned from seeing the burnmark on his mask.
"And how about Iblis?" Miu continued with a serious thought, despite the fact that his two "Siblings-In-Arms" were having fun.
"♪ Hmm? ♪" Phenex was too preoccupied with admiring the burnmark before snapping out of it. "♪ Oh, he'll be in the main hall during the festivities. The Fifth Floor will be completely empty. ♪"
"Good. Then let's do it like this: Brother Deadeye and Sister Scourge will take up position on the fifth-floor balconies. You have the honor of sniping Iblis with your sniper rifle, Deadeye. Scourge will open fire with her grenade launcher as soon as the chaos begins." Jeanne explained.
"Acknowledge, Alpha Squad. There is one more thing." Eve could be heard in their earsets. "To cover your assault and retreat, the E.O.P will cause a blackout throughout Pandemonium, and Omega Squad will launch their assault on the Council. You'll have a good chance of getting out of the Pandemonium before they sound the alarm throughout the entire Ring...or Beelzebub shows up."
"Thank you very much, Mother Eve." Jeanne responded through her earset before addressing the rest of the group. "Are there any other questions?"
"Yeah, what will you and Samurai do?" Aikaterine asked.
To that, Jeanne would first glance at the crate and approach it, grabbing her blessed Exorcist Submachine Gun. She then checked the time, making sure they weren't late for now. And just as she thought: it's 23:55, the time has finally arrived.
"We will have a little chat with Unholiness himself."
*Cha-Ching*
Author: If you're curious how Phenex Goetia look like in my story. I based her from this picture (Check the original source, give them kudos for awesome designs)
1) Phenex Goetia
2) Lord-Cardinal Baphomet of Diabolical States
Source: https://www.deviantart.com/abigaillarson/art/Baphomet-729376839
3) Queen Beelzebub I: The Lady Of Flies and Matriarch of Gluttony Dominion
Source: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FNlameIWQAA4h2Q?format=jpg&name=large
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) Hello - (Wrath's High Dialect/Demonised Latin)
2) Friend - (Wrath's High Dialect/Demonised Latin)
3) Goodbye (Wrath's High Dialect/Demonised Latin)
4) I swear, I'm innocent (French)
Chapter 16: No Rest For The Wicked
Summary:
"But you may rest assured that your children's children will bewail your deeds." - Abel Primis, Grand Master Of The Exorcist Order
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
December 31, 2019, AD (9 minutes before the Extermination), 23:51 PM.
Lower Heaven/Empyrean City/The Eye of Providence's Headquarters.
As the saying goes, "My enemy's enemy is my friend"
...
And may God forgive her for this.
If someone had asked Eve a few centuries ago what Heaven's protocol was for dealing with demons, she would have easily responded with a "shoot on sight" remark, as was often done in the past. However, Heaven is now in the unusual position of having to change its old ways in order to better suit its great struggle with Inferno.
It was clear from the start that their chaotic counterpart of the afterlife has a very treacherous system, with no way of knowing whether or not their demon is loyal. Heaven has always preferred not to exploit it for their own benefit...but that appears to be changing. With Phenex in mind, Detective Eve expected the Great Marquis to be shady regardless...but so far, she's been as honest as Hell...quite literally.
Even as the First Woman communicated with Phenex Goetia via their earset communication, she was unsure of Phenex's true allegiance. Working with Heaven could get you labeled as "Traitorous filth," "Sub-demon," and a variety of other insults in Hell's society, especially if you're at the top of Inferno's hierarchical pyramid. It usually concludes with the demon being executed.
Despite this common occurrence, Phenex agreed to participate, knowing that if Inferno found out about her treachery...well, let's just say that being killed by the Exorcist is a lot better than being executed by the Ring of Wrath's methods of dealing with traitors. The detective could only be grateful for Phenex's assistance... but the line between friend and foe is becoming increasingly blurrier these days...
"♪ - And here's the funny part: she didn't attack or even accuse me. Just gave me the key and left me alone, hmm, yes. ♪"
"Are you certain she's aware of our operation?" Eve inquired, jotting down everything Phenex said on her report.
Earlier, after the exorcists had left the Treasury chamber, The Great Marquis called Eve to explain the new...complications in the operation's secrecy. She claims that a demon named "Azazel" is aware of the presence of exorcists. The Detective would have plugged the entire operation if Phenex hadn't explained that she, in fact, wanted the exorcist to kill Iblis...which is odd to say the least.
"♪ I'm certain as a Phoenix ready to be reborn, darling. We all know the Inferno's top officials like my five claws here in the "Great Electors of Ars Goetia" Club. ♪"
"And you’re certain she won't intervene?" Eve asked for more as she kept working on the report.
"♪ That is an excellent question. Azazel never really stepped in to settle any disputes. So my response is no, hmm yes. ♪"
"Perpetual neutral, I can see that." Eve whispered to herself in a small smirk, writing the last part on report before handing it over to one of the "Eye of Providence" agents who stood near her. "Okay, thanks for calling me, Phenex. We will take it from here"
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave/The Basilica of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ.
"♪ It was my pleasure, dearie. Just keep in mind that I expect your assistance in my own endeavors...preferably after your purge, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex laughed heartily.
"As long as it doesn't involve the changing the balance of power in Inferno, Phenex." Eve warned in serious tone.
"♪ Darling, I'm not that stupid to go into that direction. Just a little task, and that's all. ♪"
"Very well...it's been a pleasure to work with you, Phenex."
"♪ Likewise...don't think it'll be the last one, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex chuckled once more...before remaining silent, unsure of what she wanted to say next. But she gathered her courage and simply let it all out. "♪ Also, Eve. I'm sorry for burning one of the trees in the garden that one time...it was an accident, hmm yes. ♪"
"Yeah...thanks for burning it down in the first place, Phenexel Goetia." Eve responded with an amused snarl. It was the first woman's favorite tree in Eden. It's not that she's still mad at Phenex or anything...just a little "revenge" call out for destroying that tree.
"♪ I see the First Lady cultivated Uriel's sassiness in her spare time. Good for you, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex faked a laugh before hanging up, not wanting Eve to enjoy it any longer.
As the Sabbath was commencing, Phenex found a quiet spot away from the crowds in one of the Cathedral's many restrooms. Of course, she double-checked that it was completely empty before making the call. The Great Marquis was standing near the sink, using the mirror to ensure there were no dirty spots on her elegant gown and her decorative breast plate, while still communicating with Eve through the earset.
Despite the fact that her part is over and she can freely return to her castle, Phenex remained at the Cathedral, not giving a single thought to teleport back. She still has some...unfinished "Goetian" business here after that incident with Sitri...
But first.
Her hair needs to be fixed.
The Great Marquis summoned her decorative and extremely expensive hairbrush and began brushing her hair-feathers. She would then tie them into a ponytail before going for her "face-feathers."
*Harsh Knock*
"Lady Phenex! You're in there?!"
Phenex accidentally dropped her hairbrush and it landed on her foot. It caused her minor discomfort, which was not pleasant.
1) "
" Phenex cursed in Angel's tongue, almost transforming into her full Phoenix form. It could have destroyed the entire west wing of the Cathedral, but Great Marquis managed to control herself by taking a deep breath and exhaling. She sighed again as she limped to the exit, her feet still a little sore.
"♪ I'm fine, Astaroth's Legionnaire. What do you want?! ♪" She exclaimed at the door with annoyed tone.
"Your greatness, Chancellor Adramelech sent me here to find you. The Great Sabbath is about to start, and you, with Andrealphus and Sitri, are missing."
"♪ Tell him I will be late. ♪"
"Is something wrong, my lady?"
Phenex growled quietly. Astaroth directed his Legionaries to keep an eye on Phenex at all times while under that façade of care. She knows The Great Duke doesn't trust her...but she sure as fuck shares that sentiment back.
"♪ Well, you see, dimwit. I have some woman "traits" that need to be addressed before being in public. Otherwise, you will see me bleeding a lot down there, hmm yes. ♪"
"...Oh?...oh, I see...yeah." The Goetian Legionnaire didn't realize at first it was that kind of problem . "I will inform Chancellor of what you said...good day."
Astaroth's legionnaire awkwardly turned around and returned to his post. Phenex took a deep breath, relieved that things had not turned out worse than she had feared.
"♪ Lousy snob ♪..." She muttered to herself as she went up to the sink to adjust her feathers. When Astaroth's Legionnaire mentioned Sitri and Andrealphus were missing, it her made her wonder: maybe she can use this advantage...to her own advantage.
As humans say: "Kill Two Birds with One Stone."
Heh, she loves the irony of it.
As a result, after a few minutes of primping, Phenex peered out the door to make sure the coast was clear before stepping back into the Cathedral's halfway. The Great Marquis would consult her Grimoire to see a specific spell she needed for that situation. Phenex found what she was looking for after flipping a few pages.
2) 
"♪ Neat, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex grinned. She'd close her book and draw the spell with her fires in midair. It took a few seconds for Phenex to feel the temporary new power. The Great Marquis learned to detect the "Goetic Pheromone" that every Goetic demon emits as he or she walks by. Phenex used it to travel around the cathedral in search of these two. The pheromone trail would lead into one of the closets, which would emit moans.
Goetic Moans.
" *Grunt* Ugh... *Grunt* Oh, yeah. *Loud Moan" Oh, Devil preserve me, your cloaca is amazing!" The voice of Great Prince Sitri echoed inside, as did Andrealphus' ecstatic cries.
"♪ Well, well, well. Look who we have here: love birds ♪" Phenex whispered in delight, actually surprised. She knew that Andre's tastes are rather...exotic. But founding out that her nephew had a taste for the Leopard Demon is rather...cute.
The Great Marquis would bring her hands behind her back as she took each step carefully towards the cupboard room's door. The sound of her heels was muffled by their fucking, as their grunting was much louder. Phenex would lean against the wall, deciding to let the boys have fun and be boys for the time being.
"Shit... *Grunt* oh, fuck! *Long Grunt* Sitri, stroke me harder. I'm at the edge!" Andrealphus cried out.
"Ugh... I can barely stroke you with that small dick of yours!" Sitri complained. The Great Marquis blocked her beak, preventing her from laughing at that...she can't help herself.
"Hey! It's not my fault that my father had-OH FUCK!"
Their brief conversation concluded with more grunting, thrusting, and moaning. They amplified to the point where Phenex knows they're nearly done.
"Unholy shit! *Grunt* Make it harder! HARDER, I SAID! FUCK!"
"Andrealphus/Sitri!" They all exclaimed together. That, indeed, was their orgasm. It's a good thing it didn't last long, because Phenex would have died of boredom otherwise. But after a few moments of silence and them breathing deeply, she would hear the next.
"Few...man....you ejaculated a lot, Andre." Sitri exhaled heavily due to exhaustion. Phenex arched her brow, astounded that Andre is... capable for his age... huh, you learn something new every day.
"Shit you're, right. *Breathes in* Think Iblis will complain?"
"Nah, say that we committed Asmodeus's Sins...he will understand, nya." Sitri assured. Phenex nodded slowly as well...that excuse always works for them.
"Right...so....back to the halls?"
"Why, my pumpkin, meow?"
"Well my Aunt -"
"Fuck your Aunt, Andre. Let's indulge ourselves for this entire day. I want you more." Sitri meowed sultrily. Hearing this, Phenex shook her head, knowing Sitri's true intentions.
"Wait.... are you... does that mean we're going to be lovers from now on?"
"If you put it like that... of course. Come here, you silly peacock."
"♪ A bit of a shame to use him for your own mating season, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex called out, finally announcing her presence.
"Oh, shit!" Andrealphus gasped in surprise. Inside the cupboard room, there was a loud shuffling sound, followed by naked Andrealphus storming out, hiding his groin with his own clothes. "I'm truly sorry, Aunt! Sitri should not have enticed me!"
"♪ Uh-huh, right. ♪" Phenex didn't buy his excuses. She is not stupid to not believe that Andrealphus desperately tries to make her Aunt to not tell his own father about this. Not that she blames him, as her brother has...outdated views on homosexuality.
In contrast to Andrealphus, the Great Prince Sitri was far more open. He left their "love" room, not even bothering to cover his groin. He approached Andrealphus and Phenex with his hands on his hips and chest first, displaying his confidence and masculinity, as well as his endowment. The Great Marquise actually looked at his member with a smirk.
"♪ Nice cock. ♪" Phenex commented...credit where credit is due.
"See, even your Aunt appreciates my cock." Sitri grinned at Andrealphus, slapping his ass for him to stop being a baby. Andre yelped but still hid his groin.
Phenex shook her head slowly, ignoring Sitri's bland hostility before returning her gaze to the young Marquis. "♪ Andre, go home and get yourself dressed before your father or Stella sees you. This does not concern you. ♪"
Andrealphus wanted to respond, but Phenex was faster. She quickly cast a teleportation spell, which returned the Marquis to his castle. After dealing with Andrealphus, The Great Marquis had taken on a hostile expression towards her colleague in the Ars Goetian Diet.
"What's up with you, woman?" Sitri greeted Phenex passively-aggressively, still angry at ruining his fur and potential mate for the season.
"♪ Not much, mysogynist. Aside you fucking my nephew. ♪" Phenex returned that passive-aggressive tone back.
"Bah, who cares. I once had a 16-year-old Imp in my bed. She consented alright." Sitri waved her off, not understanding why she really cares.
Phenex sighed. Normally, a Goetian Demon doesn't mind if incest or pedophilia occurs in Ars Goetia...unless it leads to political instability. But after hearing that, Phenex's "other side" side irritated her...this became even more personal for her.
"♪ Regardless of that...♪" Phenex moved away from the wall and closer to him. Her left hand trailed behind her back while the other laid on his shoulder. "♪ I have some news from the Great Ars Bael Goetia himself. I have come here to deliver it to you personally. ♪"
"Wait, really!!?" Sitri eased his defenses, not believing what he had just heard. "What did Ars Bael say?"
"This..."
Phenex took out Rönne's blessed dagger and stabbed Sitri in the neck. Sitri had no opportunity to respond. Worse, the Great Marquis uses her right hand to cast a spell that consumes Sitri's essence, weakening his soul. As Phenex drained Sitri's power, he garbled in blood but tried everything he could with his own hands to push Phenex away from him. But it was in vain. Finally, the Great Marquis depleted Sitri's powers and kicked him to the ground with ease.
Sitri summoned his own grimoire in his last attempts, hoping to find something that would stop the bleeding from the blessed knife. However, the Great Marquis stepped in once more, quite literraly. Phenex quickly stepped on the Prince's arm, preventing him from opening his grimoire.
"♪ How kind of you. I take that, thank you very much. ♪" Phenex snickered in delight as she grabbed his Grimoire and opened it for herself, checking Sitri's secrets while he was dying.
"W-wh-ughhhh!" Sitri screamed at her, but his stabbed neck prevented him. He felt how his soul was being torn away...The Devil himself waited for it.
"♪ Sorry, Sitri. I would lie if it wasn't personal. ♪" Phenex turned around and approached him, leaning her head towards him so that the last thing he saw of her was a woman he harrassed and insulted. "♪ say hi everyone on the void, hmm yes ♪"
"Fu -" Sitri tried everything, only to make garbled noises and....one final exhale. And so...he was dead.
Sitri's body emitted black smoke as it manifested into a shadowy entity. It took to the air and flew back to its rightful place...the Ninth Ring. Phenex was completely unsurprised. It's not uncommon for it to happen after a Goetia dies. All of Sitri's sins would be manifested into an entity that would return home...
To show him some respect, she would close his eyes before standing up, summoning a Mini Phoenix Bird in midair, and landing on Phenex's arm. The Great Marquis also conjured up a piece of papyrus and a feather pen, writing on it before wrapping it up and giving it to her conjured bird.
"♪ Send my letter towards the 9th spirit of the Ars Goetia, Little Phenex. Now fly with my blessing! ♪" She yanked her arm up, making "Little Phenex" flap her wings and fly towards the small hole in the opened window, disappearing from her sight.
Phenex would return her gaze to the dead Sitri before deciding to leave him as is, given what was about to happen here in the next few minutes. She despised assassinating other Goetias, but it was ultimately necessary. The Ars Goetia, like Inferno, is filled with "Factionalism" and various allegiances. Plus, Ars Bael of Goetia...well, let's just say he's not getting any stronger any time soon. it pains her to say...
Ars Goetia must be saved...from itself.
Before Inferno will swallow it whole...
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/Somewhere in the Sinner Ghetto
It is often said:
There is always a glimmer of light in the darkness.
In fact, the weather in Pandemonium improved slightly, with a light breeze replacing the snow. Furthermore, the dark clouds parted sufficiently to allow Heaven's lights to reach Hell's Capital. Heaven's light somehow enhanced the beauty of the scene, despite the fact that below there was utter horror and oppression. Seeing the capital from above was gorgeous... in a twisted kind of way.
Currently, in the small and ruined parking lot building, Mr. Hazbin is in the company of his dearest grandmother, Maria De Leblanc, drinking hot tea with her. Marsella sat on the hood of Mr. Hazbin's vintage truck with a Demonized submachine gun on her laps. Even now, Mr. Hazbin hadn't gotten used to celebrating New Year's Eve in the Hostile Afterlife. But, hey, it's not like he hasn't been in the worst situations before...
Before he left to assist the Exorcists with their secret mission, Nädege expressed her concern that he would perish in Hell even with Rönne watching his back. His only response was that he would not abandon a friend in need. Nädege, although jokingly responded that he was just bored of her and decided to slip into Hell and far away from her as possible. Oh, that sweetie belle... She is the best thing that has ever happened to Mr. Hazbin.
And in truth, this is something he truly missed from his mortal life: the thrill of adventure. Obviously, he is grateful that he got his passage to Paradise…but…Heaven always felt like it was a huge and infinite retirement house. There was no worry about food shortages; bills were very generous and the cost of luxurious living was minimal. Still, it didn't seem like enough for him...
And boring
After all, Mr. Hazbin used to spend his late life traveling around the state of Louisiana, selling his stuff to the good folks of the southern states. It was a mix of adventure, exploration, and the thrill of seeing the world. It was something that he missed these days…Nädege of course was heavily against his adventures, preferring it if Darnell focused on raising their little son…
their son...
Mr. Hazbin’s lips were slightly raised in an ironic sad smile, twirling his finger against the frame of a cup. Sometimes, he wondered if he should have listened to Nädege more often. To this day, Mr. Hazbin’s greatest regret was not being there when he was needed the most…to his wife and son. And now, it felt like he had abandoned his own wife too. Heavens, even Grandma Maria Leblanc is no exception. Marsella can’t get herself into Heaven for her violent nature. As such, Mr. Hazbin will abandon her as soon as the Exorcists are done with their mission…such a soul existence.
But at least he could spend the remaining time with her, having a little New Year celebration with some tea and her company. And so he grabbed the spare cup and small kettle before pouring the tea into it.
3) "Encore du thé?" Mr. Hazbin offered it to his grandmother. Marsella would take it in delight, appreciating the good gesture.
4) "Merci, ma très chère" Marsella nodded in thanks before drinking her cup. She would take a pause, enjoying the sensation before asking. 5) "Tu as fait le thé?"
6) French: "Non, ma femme en fait. Un thé originaire de Louisiane." Mr. Hazbin chuckled. He was a bit surprised that a continental French woman enjoyed the tea from France's Ex colonies.
7) "Faites mes compliments à votre femme pour le thé. Normalement, je déteste le thé, sans compter que celui de Les goddams est hors de mon choix." Marsella shrugged her shoulders at the end.
Mr. Hazbin smirked at that. 8) "Elle n'est pas seulement bonne à faire du thé. Vous devriez essayer son Jambalaya. Mon fils l'a beaucoup aimé."
9) "C'est quoi un jambalaya?" Marsella asked, confusingly. It's pretty obvious for a woman that lived during the French Revolution that she didn't know about colonial cuisine.
10) "C'est..." Mr. Hazbin then stopped, asking that question to himself...and since he doesn't cook...he actually doesn't know. 11) "En fait, je ne sais pas... mais je dois reconnaître que les colonies ont fait un travail incroyable avec leur cuisine."
Marsella chuckled at that. Between them would emerge another awkward pause, as if they didn't know what to ask. Instead, they both turned their eyes to the capital's view.
12) "Nous n'avons pas eu le temps de parler au Pentagramme" Marsella broke the silence, deciding just to be casual with him. 13) "Alors, comment vas-tu, mon petit-fils?"
Mr. Hazbin would take a few seconds to respond, thinking about what to say. 14) "Comme la dernière fois que je t'ai vu... je pense toujours à mon fils."
15) "Vous ne savez toujours rien de lui?"
16) "Pas une seule chose..." Mr. Hazbin straightened his back, turning his body to face Marsella. 17) "Il serait décédé à ce moment-là... avec son absence au paradis, je suis un peu sûr qu'il est allé ici."
18) "Avez-vous essayé de demander à Rönne?"
As she mentioned Rönne, Mr. Hazbin would glance at where the tower of Pandemonium's main cathedral was poking out. Since their last call, there hadn't been any updates from Rönne's group on their progress. He is somewhat sure that they will handle it, but... still, that "father-figure worriness" doesn't help him...
19) "J'ai essayé... au mieux, il a dit qu'il existe toujours dans Pride... au pire, un de ses nombreux collègues l'a peut-être eu il y a longtemps..."
Marsella shook her head. That circle seems to repeat itself for the LeBlancs in history. 20) "Moi et ton père avons eu la même chose... Il s'est enfui de chez moi pendant les guerres napoléoniennes, je ne l'ai jamais revu depuis. Le dernier message qu'il a écrit m'accusait de folie et d'être un tueur en série."
21) "Ouais... donc ce que ma mère m'a dit..." Mr. Hazbin nodded in acknowledgment of Marsella's words...irony at its fullest indeed. 22) "Une fois qu'on aura fini ici, qu'est-ce que vous comptez faire?"
23) "Retourner à ma petite ferme dans les Limbes extérieures, comme toujours. Je suis aussi sûr que vous voudriez retourner au Paradis, après ça?" Marsella inquired, but already knew the answer.
Mr. Hazbin remained silent to that, returning his glance at Heaven glowing in the sky. If only his grandma saw the full picture. At this point, Darnell LeBlanc knew Heaven like his five fingers. For his short time in Pride and Capital Ring, it got him intrigued and excited to see more of Hell's geography. More or less like in that book, Divine Comedy. And yet...he doesn't know what to say to Nädege.
Lower Heaven/The Empyrean City/The Central Hub
While in Hell, it was a tragic moment when the Year Final Countdown began. Here in heaven, it was the opposite. It was a celebration, and Heaven's human population gathered around the Empyrean's largest clock tower, The Clock of Babel, for the final countdown, just as they did in the mortal world.
Despite that nearly all of Heaven's population knew the Knights of Exorcism Order were purging sinners and hellborns at the current time, they still preferred to celebrate in the traditional sense. Some say that ignorance is bliss, while others believe that it's not for Winners to be worried about what happens in Hell.
Nädege is no exception, sitting on the bench and observing how the clock is ticking to the 00.00 mark. Since their reunion in Heaven, she and her husband did go for the clock, most of the time, keeping the tradition of celebrating New Year's Eve together. Her mood would have been cheerful for New Year's Eve...only the gloomy face was instead this time.
The thoughts of Mr. Hazbin dying in Hell still circled around her mind, making her nervous. Obviously, her husband was a grown man...but Darnell had always been a troublemaker, even if he didn't know it. And that troublemaking cost him his own mortal life a long time ago. She had already gotten used to it, knowing she lost her son to Hell's cruel fate, but losing her husband was the final nail in the coffin...
Doubtful if Zadkiel could heal this trauma.
"Signora LeBlanc?" Someone asked from her left direction. Nädege quickly snapped out of her thoughts and looked at where the sound was. None other than Miss Ragnatela: Molly’s mother is here, holding a plastic box in her hands with what seems to be a Italian ragù inside of it.
"Ah, Miss Ragnatela! So good to see you once again." Nädege smiled, before gesturing at the crowd. "Joining the celebration?"
"I..I actually wanted to see your husband, Signora LeBlanc" Miss Ragnatela awkwardly responded, not wanting to sound inappropriate.
"Please, just call me Nädege, Miss Ragnatela. Not need for formalities..." Nädege assured her wholeheartedly.
"Oh...my name is Ginerva Ragnatela. Pleasure to meet you, Nädege." Miss Ragnatela brought her hand to her chest, showing humility. "I made some ragù for your husband as a gift for employing my little girl. It means a lot to me that Molly is nearly recovered from her trauma."
"Trauma?" Nädege repeated. She would then awkwardly touch her own neck. Being a mother as well, it was enough to see that Miss Ragnatela has issues with her child. Maybe she can help as well as her husband did. "My sincere apologies if I'm invading your private life, but something happened to your daughter?"
"No worries. Molly mentioned that your husband told her that you and him have a boy who is not here. It's just I also had two boys who...did bad things in their lives and paid for it."
"It's sibling abuse?" Nädege presumed.
"Not at all. it's -"
Ginerva then stops, not sure if she should continue. She would look back if there were no Cherubs or any officials from the Heavenly Covenant, preferring they wouldn't hear what she had to say. After making sure, Ginerva would take a seat on the bench, laying the plastic box on her laps.
The Italian woman, at first, would gather courage. It's still a controversial subject even today, not something that she prefers to talk about it. But with the LeBlancs, they both seemed kind and generous. Furthermore, Darnell and Nädege are the parents of the boy who committed bad deeds in his life, for which Ginevra feels strong sympathy.
"I...I used to be married to a Mafia boss back in the 1920's and 1940's: Don Vito Ragnatela. He ran an opium smuggling operation in Italy before changing to cocaine after our migration to the US." Ginevra paused again, trying to hold back her tears as she said the last part in hostile manner. Nädege was baffled at first, but that was nothing compared to what Ginevra added further.
"And he used my own children for his drug operations."
Nädege didn't know what to say to that. Heavens, if Darnell turned out to be some kind of druglord at that time, her own heart would have shattered into a million pieces.
"And your children...did they...you know?"
Ginevra nodded, not needing Nädege to continue. "My Anthony and Molly suffered a lot from drug addiction. That's why my little girl needs all the support. I really can't thank you and your husband enough."
Miss Ragnatella would look down at her ragù before offering it to Nädege. "I know it's not much, but it's at least something I can give you as a token of my gratitude."
"Thank you, Ginevra. But it was not necessary for you to make it, though." Nädege smiled and nodded. She still accepted the gift, taking the ragu from Ginevra's hands. "But I'm sure Darnell would like some Italian rag once he comes back."
"He is not here with you?"
"He..." Nädege makes a pause. She is not sure if what Darnell is doing is "Heaven's secret" or not. "He is busy with his own stuff. He could not attend this New Year's Eve, unfortunately."
"What's his profession?"
"Selling merchant for the majority of the time... heh, even after his mortal death." Nädege ended with a chuckle...remembering how she saved him once from alligator. Eh, the shenanigans' he caused in their life...it was something.
"Ah, makes sense." Ginevra nodded, understanding why he was absent. "So you rarely see him?"
"Used to during our mortal life. But it's our own son who barely even saw him..."
"I feel you..." Ginevra smiled in irony, lowering her eyes as she played with her fingers. "I gave birth to twin siblings and an older brother to them. But then my husband took them to New York while I spent my days in our little mansion in New Haven, tending the garden in their absence. The time when I learned of my husband's shady background...it was too late...and Anthony...well Anthony...he-"
Ginevra didn't have strength. Oh, Anthony...her sweetest little boy. He was the quirkiest, humorous and smart little boy....and then seeing him after what Phencyclidine did to him...sealed Ginerva's fate...The Devil truly had a weird sense of humor.
"It's okay...I'm here...just in case." Nädege stroked Ginerva's back, relieving her pain. The Italian woman sobbed a few times but controlled herself well enough not to burst into tears. Mostly because she didn't want to spoil the mood for the rest of those who had come to watch the final countdown to 2019. In the end, Ginevra wiped her tears and focused her mind on Molly. Maybe if she can't save Anthony and Michael from their damnation, at least she still has Molly, who needs her support.
"One minute left, it's happening!" Someone screamed from the crowd
Nädege looked up at the clock tower. It was, indeed, 23:59 a.m., just a minute before the New Year. Now that Darnell is gone, she might be able to keep Ginerva some company. Most of the time, the "housewives" of the twentieth century had to stick together.
"How about we see the fireworks together, Ginerva?" Nädege asked nicely.
"You...are you sure?" The Italian woman said it sincerely. She was not sure why Nädege would want to spend time with the broken mess that is Ginevra.
"Because, we women must stick together. It's as simple as that." Nädege laughed at the end, attempting to cheer her up. Ginerva's lips lifted, admitting her wisdom. Finally, she accepted Nädege's invitation and rose from the bench.
They would join the ranks of winners eagerly awaiting the arrival of 2020. The crowd is already massive, with Cherubs standing a little further back, near the fireworks, with their matches ready. Every tick of the clock only added to the joy and excitement.
Nädege and Ginevra exchanged silence at first, both staring at the clock. But Ginerva would eventually return her attention to Nädege, wanting to learn more about her.
"If it's okay with you, you never told me the name of your son." Ginerva asked cautiously and gently, not wanting to come across as demanding to know him.
Nädege would be in an awkward situation here. While she is not opposed to it, she simply...doesn't want to talk about him. It's something she and Darnel both agreed to bury.
It has now been nearly a century since Nädege died. In the 1980s, she and Darnell expected their son to die of old age and enter Heaven. Unfortunately, this was not the case, and their son ended up in Hell. And Monsieur Rönne Schaffer informed them that, in the worst-case scenario, his colleagues might have apprehended him at this point. Sinners rarely survive more than two or three annual purges in Hell.
Nädege had no choice but to give up; she'd never know what happened to her son, which may have been for the best. Their son now exists only in their memories, which she and Darnell will treasure until God decides to end the universe...
But she'd still reveal to Ginerva. She was gracious enough to share her load with Nädege. So...here goes nothing.
"His name is Ala-"
"TWELVE SECONDS!" Someone yelled from the crowd, causing Nädege to stop. The crowd even came to life, cheering as the final countdown began. Nädege could only shrug with a slight smirk at Ginevra, silently admitting that now was not the time to discuss it. But, oh well, maybe next time.
"15! 14! 13! 12!" The crowd proclaimed in unison. But when the clock hit ten, they became even louder in their countdown.
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
The clock strikes 00:00, creating a jingle song. With a few minor delays, the Cherubs launched the fireworks into the sky, signaling the end of 2019 and the arrival of 2020. Celebrations, fireworks, parties, singing, and dancing filled the entire heaven...
...
And yet
As Heaven cried in joy
Hell cried in despair
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave/The Basilica of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ.
New Year's Day was the day when the Exorcists arrived in the realm of Hell, annihilating everything in their path and destroying the lives of many demons. This day was the day where Inferno showed how pathetic it can be...thanks to that wretched angel named Lucifer Morningstar.
How did it come to this?
Ruled by an Angel and the First Sinner no less, powerless against Heaven and have no wish to fight back. Iblis could not fathom how weak the Inferno had become. The Rebellion against False Divines incited something greater for the future of free angels. Demonhood became that "freedom" for them... and yet the slaves of the False Divines still remain to be the major threat to Demon's existence...
Seriously, how did it come to this?
Inside the main hall of Basilica: The Lord Regent of Dis, Iblis, stared at the mural of their God... True God, that is: The Devil himself. In the mural, he is portrayed as a shadowy entity with at least eight glowing white eyes, holding Hell in his hands, as if protecting the entire Inferno and his children with his clutch...
To this day, Iblis could not really understand why the Devil had forsaken them... him . The entire Dis was built to praise his dark divinity. In Hell, even the entire Ring of Blasphemy exists to worship him. And yet, when it came to Heaven, the Dark Lord was not here when needed.
And Azazel, who is the "voice of the Dark Lord" no less, didn't help in the slightest. Even now, as she drew the Pentagram Star on the floor with the chalk and poured some strange black dust from the vase and into the star. She remained silent towards him, as if she was annoyed at him. Maybe, it was clear that The Father of All Destruction disapproved of the Lord Regent...And, like these idiots in Vatican City and Mecca, he could only interpret their Master's will and what he should do to please him.
"Your unholiness!" The Captain of the Diabolical Guard marched towards Iblis and stopped, saluting his lord. "Astaroth's legionnaires informing that the perimeter of Dis's exterior is secured. No sign of bystanders or assassins."
"Good, Captain General." Iblis responded, not bothering to directly look at his servant. "Double the security on the upper floors. I doubt our great enemy will be here today, but percussion must be made."
"Yes, your greatness!" the Captain of the Diabolical Guard fixed his posture and marched his way towards the barracks of common Diabolical Guards, taking at least two floors up. His armored boots' clanking was the only sound of the empty halls of the Basilica. But soon, it was not the case.
*Creak*
In an instant, the Captain pulled out his demonic sword, turned around, and aimed his sword forward.
"Show yourselves, heretics!" He exclaimed aggressively, expecting a fair fight just as Satan himself expected from the warriors of Inferno.
...
Silence...
The Captain turned his head left and right before looking at the floor. He lifted his foot up and stomped a few times to make sure if it was him or not. The floor creaked at the stump of his foot, meaning it was just him and not someone creeping into him.
"Devildamm this fucking day..." The Captain cursed at himself. The paranoia of the Purge spoke for itself. In the end, he just sheathed his sword back and marched away towards where he was going. Little did he know, in the dark spot in the corner, a pure white light emerged from it.
A light LCD mask, no less.
After taking one another stairs to the next floor, the Captain of Diabolical Guards arrived at the double doors, opening with a strong slam. This room turned out to be none other than the Barracks of the Diabolical Guard. There were at least six of them, two playing some kind of card game. The other three are resting on their beds, and the last one is reading "Asmodeus's Waifus and Husbandos: Issue #891" for fun. Upon seeing their captain, the four, except the two who were playing the card game, stood and saluted him.
"New orders from our Unholiness: the upper floors must be secured for the duration of the Sabbath! I don't need to remind you, maggots, the stake of protecting our excellency. Any questions? !"
"No, sir!" One of them returned.
"Then to your posts!"
"Ave Satanas, Ave Iblisus, Ave Beelzebusus! Caelum Delenda Est!" The four proclaimed in unison, honoring the King of Wrath, Queen of Gluttony, and Lord Regent of Dis...and of course, wishing for Heaven's destruction.
The four guards marched away to assume their posts. The Captain would have left if these two slackers who played the card game had listened his orders.
"And why are you sitting your asses off?! Get to your posts!"
One of the guards was about to stand, but the other grabbed his platted shoulder and made him sit down. He would then speak back on behalf of him and himself.
"Sorry, sir. But we are off duty, right now." He said calmly.
"Your off-duty ended a second ago, idiot." The Captain snarled back, pointing his finger at him.
"Nope, my contract specifically states I' have two hours of rest per day. My friend and I over here did our quota a few minutes ago. There is nothing you can do, Captain." The same guard spoke in a confident tone. The other one opened his mouth in shock from seeing his colleague defiling the Captain's orders. Bad Devil, Asmodeus himself must have granted him his own balls for this.
The Captain, of course, didn't take it in that kind of manner. Unfortunately, he could not just kill them due to the whole "diabolical conduct and what-not" thing. But it's not like he'll leave it like this.
"I will inform Lord-Cardinal Baphomet of this behavior and I will make sure you will be thrown into Malebolge!" He stated it with a clear threat. To at least end with some damage, the Captain kicked their table, making it flipped over and ruining the card game on purpose. "Enjoy your game, cunts!"
Their captain then turned around and marched away from the barracks. The same guard flipped his captain off before looking at the pile of cards on the floor, shaking his head in annoyance.
"Damm, demon! I didn't know that here in Dis we could openly defile our bosses." The Rookie Guard stated in a surprised tone.
"Bah, our Captain earned his rank through nepotism, Rookie. Furthermore, if a Cardinal inquires, state that you concentrated on the Deadly Sin of Sloth. You'll be fine, regardless!" The Senior Guard assured him as he crouched down to gather the cards.
"Is it really always like this during the Purge?" The rookie guard asked, assisting his colleague in gathering the cards.
"Yep, Devildamm purge day arrives, and the entire Pandemonium becomes paranoid about the impending Exorcist invasion... as if it ever happens." The Senior Guard explained, taking the remaining cards back to the table.
"And you're not paranoid yourself?"
"Oh please..." The Senior Guard waved him off, taking his seat to shuffle his cards. "Exterminators are just footmen of our great enemy. There are far greater threats to us than these smiley boys and their spears."
"Like what?"
"Archangels or Powers. Maybe even an Anathema if you're stupid enough to believe that crap."
"A what?"
"Wait, really?" The senior guard stops shuffling and looks at the rookie directly. "Your parents never read you some bedtime stories? Never heard of "Anathema" before?"
"Nope, what's an "anathema?"
"Apparently, Our King's main adversary or someshit. Some say he is a rouge and insane Exorcist or even Archangel, but no-one knows really. My own mother read me some stories on how he is like a horror entity for demons...sort of like a boogeyangel of Inferno." The Senior Guard explained as he began to lay the cards for him and for himself.
"Really? And what's the context of that boogyeangel?" The Rookie takes the cards and begins to shuffle his deck.
"There are like a few books about him. I actually remember the first entire phrase at the start of the story. It goes like this..." The Senior Diabolical Guard then clears his throat to begin what his own mother read to him a long time ago.
"In the first age,"
"in the first battle,"
"When the shadows first lengthened,"
"ONE stood."
"Burned by the embers of Armageddon, his soul unblistered by the fires of Hell and untainted beyond ascension,"
"He chose the path of perpetual torment."
"In his ravenous hatred he found no peace; and with boiling blood he scoured the Underworld Plains seeking vengeance against the Dark Princes who had wronged him."
He wore the crown of the Heavenly Host, and those that tasted the bite of his spear named him...
the Doom Slayer.
Hearing this, the rookie guard nervously strokes his finger against the top of the card, resulting in an awkward silence. But the senior guard would just shrug at the end.
"What a bunch of balonies, I must say." The Senior Guard broke the silence in a mocking tone. "A stupid tale just to scare off little demon children...and the name...so edgy."
"Yeah...child's tale." The rookie responded with an awkward little laugh, but still, after hearing that little beginning was...disturbing.
*Knock-Knock*
The two men exchanged glances before returning again to the door.
"Who is that?" Rookie asked.
"No idea." The Senior Guard responded before looking at the door and exclaiming that it was open . For whatever reason, there was no response back.
"Doom Slayer must have come for us, huh?" The rookie guard joked with a nervous tone.
"Yeah...he will definitely knock on our doors." The senior guard sarcastically responded.
*Knock-Knock*
"I said: "It's open" you dickweed!" The Senior Guard again exclaimed, even louder this time, showing how annoyed he was.
*Knock-Knock*
"For Devil's Sake!" The Senior Guard finally had enough, standing up and marching towards the doors. "If it's you, Brozed, and your stupid jokes again! I swear to Mammon, I will "fist" your ass with my bare hands!"
The Senior Diabolical Guard slammed the entrance doors open, only to find that neither Brozed nor anyone was here. In fact, no one is here, making the Senior Guard feel... uneasy.
"Brozed, seriously! It's not funny anymore!" The guard exclaimed, not enjoying this game. He then moved towards the dark halfway, gripping his sheathed sword just in case. Ultimately, the Rookie Guard lost sight of his partner in the game... before he heard the noise.
"What the -"
*Loud Thump*
"Dilrod?!" The Rookie Guard exclaimed, standing up "Dilrod, what happened!?"
No response...
The rookie guard would draw his own sword and walk towards the barracks' exit. He moved closer to the halfway point and discovered the senior guard lying dead on the floor.
"Dilrod! Sh-"
He barely managed to finish when someone grabbed him behind him and slit his throat. It took him a long time to decide to also join his partner in the game...in the void, that is.
It turns out that it was none other than two exorcists, one with a Sniper Rifle and another with a Grenade Launcher and a Shotgun. The one with the grenade launcher looked at her brother-in-arms, as if expecting something from him. The other returned it, albeit not knowing what she wanted.
"What?" He shrugged his shoulders at her.
"Told you it would work, Rönne." Aikaterine chuckled in their mutual commlink.
"It's still a stupid idea in the first place."
"Ah, but it worked in the end, didn't ya?" Aikaterine pointed this out with a smirk.
"Yeah, sure. Next time we want to breach some doors, remind me to use your method of "knocking doors". I'm sure it will work against even a King of Hell." Rönne stated, with sarcasm, before crouching down and taking the body. "Help me to stash the other somewhere they won't suspect a thing."
Aikaterine shook her head with a slight smirk. There was never a dull moment with him. But as duty called, she grabbed the other one and dragged it towards the barracks. They looked around to see where they could hide bodies.
"Beds should work." Aikaterine suggested.
"A sleeping, fully armored guard on the bed? Too risky." Rönne pondered this before noticing a bathroom. "How about that one?"
"Nice, and classic for sure." Aikaterine agreed, with the two of them dragging the bodies to the bathroom and closing it. Rönne also found an "Occupied" sign near the doors and put it on the door's handle. It will at least buy them some time before the chaos begins.
Meanwhile, Aikaterine checked around. Mostly for curiosity's sake, but there is always a chance they could find something they can use.
"Tsk, their barracks stink in comparison to ours, I'm not gonna lie." Aikaterine commented on the state of the barracks. She has also walked up to one of the beds to check the porno magazine lying on the sheets, wondering what the Inferno offers for the readers...Again, just for curiosity.
"What do you expect: good conditions for meatbags?" Rönne commented as he continued his walk to another set of doors leading to a different wing. He then crouched to check if the coast was clear through the keyhole.
"Hey, they claim they will crush us like 100 times a day." Aikaterine responded with a mocking tone, flipping the next page. Nothing really special in the magazine. "Criticism is always a welcome thing to accept, even from your enemies."
"Then I hope they won't take it seriously for yours and mine's sake, Aikate-."
Rönne then stopped as he saw her reading the magazine. He would come up to her and stare at her, with a "seriously, at this time?" expression.
"Kate...what the hell are you doing?" Rönne asked...although he did not exactly ask but rather questioned her decision.
"What?" Aikaterine looked at him for a second before looking back at the magazine, "It's cultural appropriation. Always curious what the tastes of common demons are these days..."
"...And?" Rönne pushed for her verdict.
"Too much succubuses, that's for sure." Aikaterine flipped another page, finding even more tasteless pin-ups. "Heavens, compared to this, we have beautiful Archangels, cute Cherubs, and even Mother Asherah is depicted with curves on her statutes. And Inferno has only succubuses on their minds. So overrated in my opinion..."
"Kate..." Rönne slowly started with no amusement in his voice...
"What?"
"What's wrong with you...really?" He asked half-seriously, with a slight head tilt to the left.
"Hey, honesty is a virtue. What, Rönne? You don't believe that archangels are beautiful?! You're going to say to a Female Archangel that she is ugly?! Is this really what you believe, huh?" She also responded with a chuckle, making a little bait for Rönne to fall into.
"I didn't even say a dam thing about it, Aikaterine!"
"But you implied. Makes me wonder what's your favorite Archangel so far..."
"Aikaterine..." Rönne again, slowly said, begging her to stop with her "bait games"
"Hey, nothing to be ashamed of. Mine's Gabriel. He is like a super cool older brother to us. Plus, he is hot." Aikaterine again played that little game of hers. But hey, at least she is honest...Good points for her for her sincere honesty. But for Rönne, he just rolled his eyes, releasing a breath before responding.
"Three things." He showed his fingers at her. "One, we must not delay our mission. Second, stop with your fangirling and porn reading. And third..."
Rönne would then stop and turn his gaze to the door that he had previously examined if the coast was clear. He would release a sigh with a slight shrug, giving up on her little game.
"I'm in between Zadkiel and Uriel." Rönne whispered in slight shame. He would then snatch her magazine and rip it apart for Aikaterine to not fixate on it. "Let's go, you Mammon incarnate."
"Okie-dookie, brother." Aikaterine responded, still giggling at hearing the revelation...how cute of him.
Without any further delays, they took their leave from the barracks and headed towards the many hallways of Dis in order to get themselves to the fifth floor. They took serious precaution by moving very slowly, using the dark spots to hide themselves when needed. Thanks to their armor's black and grey pattern, they have a very good advantage in the corners.
On their way, both Aikaterine's and Rönne's earsets inside their helmets made a ringing sound. Now that the New Year has arrived, it means only one thing: The Purge is just a few seconds away from happening.
"This is the Order of Exorcism and Harrowing HQ for all Exorcist Legions of Rings. Report your status."
"I Limbo's Scout Party: Standing by."
"II Pride Legion: Ready To Rock, Bitches!"
"III Wrath Legion: Standing by and ready to yeed their last haw."
"(In muffled voice) IV Gluttony Legion: Standing by"
"V Lust Legion: We're fine out there, but the music plays with our nerves."
"VI Envy Legion: Ready for fishing, as we say."
"VII Sloth Legion: Ready to put them out of their misery, HQ."
"The Teutonic Knights: making our way to the Pandemonium with Grandmaster Aclima, ETA one hour."
"Acknowledged, Legions. Exorcist Commandos: report your status."
"Alpha Squad here: will engage with Iblis in a few minutes, over and out." Jeanne d'Arc spoke on behalf of them.
"Omega Squad, in position and ready to engage the Stygian Council as soon as Alpha Squad is done." Aclima's voice spoke into their earsets.
"Understood, Commandos. Priority objective: The goal for this year's purge is 10 million: Hellborns or Sinners alike. The Heavenly Host offers a huge wage bonus if we manage to hit 20 million. So do your honor and prove to Saint Azrael your devotion. Without a duo, you know the drill. Goodspeed, Defenders of God's righteous and Deus Vult!"
Their inner links would shut off before the female robotic sound emitted from their ear sets instead.
"Attention all Ground Exorcist Legions: Judgment waiver now in effect. Capital prosecution is discretionary. Code: pressure, exorcise, purge."
Both Aikaterine' and Rönne' visor's hud then would show another element at the top of their visor.
When it comes to annual purges, The Exorcists have very strict rules of engagement with Demons. Their Engagement is divided into three categories:
- Code White
- Code Yellow
- Code Red
Code White is either "Casing Mode" or "Control". Casing Mode means that the exorcist didn't activate "Purge Protocol" yet. "Control", on the other hand, occurs when the exorcist has been detected by demons but has not engaged them yet. Once The Exorcist is ready to begin to purge demons, it will go into "Code Yellow"
Code Yellow, or rather "Anticipation", is rather straightforward. It's a buildup of incoming direct engagement with the group of sinners or Hellborns. It's mostly needed for the exorcists to regroup or join together before the engagement will begin. And the final one is Code Red...or rather "The Exorcist Assault In The Progress" to put it more bluntly. "Go nuts on Demons," basically — pretty straightforward stuff.
Last but not least, there's their mask. The color of their LCD mask represents what their protocol is: control or casing as white, anticipation as yellow, and assault as red.
"Scourge and Deadeye, you heard their command. Activate your "Purge Protocol" but do not engage demons until my signal. And how is your progress to the filth floor?"
"On the fourth floor already. We have a couple of stragglers on our way, but nothing we can't handle." Aikaterine responded back, and the two of them also pushed buttons on their wrist-mounted computers to activate their "Purge Protocols". As for the stragglers, they are two Diabolical Guards, patrolling the halfway point between the stairs that lead to the filth floor.
"Acknowledged, Samurai and I are heading into the main halfway. So far, so good and no witnesses. Once you take your positions, reconnaissance and debrief on Iblis and the hall, where the ceremony is."
"Yes, mam. Over and out." Aikaterine then switched her channel to the one she shares with Rönne. "So, how should we-"
"Shh." Rönne shushed her, despite their inner communication being audible only to them. But he would point it out for Aikaterine to notice. One guard stood near the column, hugging his spear against his chest plate as he rested his head against it. Due to the Diabolical Guards' wearing a helmet, but thanks to the pose, Aikaterine can presume he is dozing off...can't really blame that demon, must be dull with all that "Purge Action" happening on other rings.
Another guard, who appears to be a Captain of the Guard, would storm towards the sleeping one and smack him against his plated helmet, causing him to yell.
"Stop dozing off and get back to guarding your post, shithead! And don't make me see you sleeping off, again." The Captain warned, raising his finger for the guard to see how serious he was. But the Captain would leave him alone, going up to the stairs.
The same guard stared at the stairs and waited a couple of seconds before making himself comfortable and just returning to doing what he had previously done...sleeping on his job.
"Do the honors, Kate." Rönne gestured with his head. The Turkish Exorcist grinned back at him before unsheathing her dagger and carefully making her way towards the guard.
The guard didn't suspect a thing, but as soon as Kate raised her dagger at him, he heard the sound and turned his head at her in an instant. But luckily for her, she quickly silenced him by stabbing his plated throat. Blessed material straight from Heaven's Millitary Industrial Complex makes the wonder against Inferno's cheap equipment.
Exorcist Scourge dragged the dead guard to the corner and gently laid him there. She signaled to Rönne that the coast was clear for him. And now, together, they slowly reached the fifth floor, hoping to find and deal with the captain. The Fifth Floor seems to be still under construction. Some of the walls are covered in wood planks or have uncompleted walls, makes sense why the floor is closed off.
Again, they carefully made their way to their destination, checking every corner for hostiles. They would stop as they heard noises coming from not far away. The two exorcists raised their weapons as they went to the covers, before Rönne peaked his head out to see what is going on.
Just as he thought, the Captain of the Diabolical Guard is here with his back facing them. He was sitting on some crates with his hands on another crate. At first, Rönne thought the captain was just busy writing some report...but it turned out to be wrong.
*Loud inhale followed by a moan of ecstasy"
Yep, hypocrisy speaks for itself.
Apparently, the Captain had a secret stash of drugs straight from the Lust Ring here on the fifth floor of Basilica, and now he is indulging himself alone in his spare time. The German gunslinger shook his head in disgust from seeing this. Hypocrites and frauds are what he hates the most... despite the fact that he is also not innocent here. And somehow...after seeing that captain slapping one of his colleagues, Rönne now feels piety for these guards. They are being abused by their captain and would never stand a chance against what will come in the next few minutes...poor bastards.
But still, his morals should be cast aside for now, and the operation must continue, hence he gestured for Aikaterine to kill that asshole. He can't do it by himself as the Great Marquis took his knife earlier...and might as well make Aikaterine a "slit throat expert" at this point.
She again unsheathed her dagger and carefully crouched her way to the Captain. She would raise her dagger, but Captain, out of nowhere, quickly jumped from the crate and grabbed Aikaterine's hand, preventing her from stabbing him.
"Exorcunt bitch! should have kn-UGH!"
The Captain stopped abruptly when he was hit by a throwable knife right into his right eye socket, spilling some of his blood on Aikaterine's LCD mask before he collapsed dead.
"Bullseye" Rönne commented. Aikaterine was confused, before looking back to see him holding some throwable knives in his hand before he pulled them back into his satchel.
"You could've used them sooner!"Aikaterine grumbled as she wiped the blood from her visor.
"I planned...but it's fun to see you crouching clumsily instead." Rönne mocked her in playful manner as he relaxed against the wall and crossed his arms, giving that little sass to his partner in Exorcism.
"Oh-ho-ho, " Aikaterine made a fake laugh, understanding it's his revenge for the her stunt she did on him earlier. "MC Baddass is being sassy, huh? Let's see how he will handle a bottle of the strongest wine in Anatolia once we are done with mission."
"Is that an invitation?" Rönne smirked.
"Maybe yes, maybe not." Aikaterine chuckled as she walked up to him, leaning her face close to his before whispering, "We will see..."
Scourge would then give a playful punch to his shoulder. It's a sign of the bond she has with him and it's her way of ending their little sweet moment here before they must continue forward. And without further delays, they moved forward.
The remaining fifth floor was thankfully empty, allowing The Exorcists to easily reach their advantage point: The Choir Balcony, which Phenex suggested they use. Both Rönne and Aikaterine entered the balcony, crouching down to avoid being spotted by demons below them.
Rönne carefully peaked out from the rail, checking what was happening below. The black fog that came from strange vases, slightly blocked his view. But on the bright side, it made those who bellowed at him barely see what was happening above. And even better, their masks have "Thermal Vision" Mode. Hence, they switched to it to examine what was happening below.
So far, Lord Regent Iblis is with Cardinal Baphomet, discussing something, while the Goetias, including Phenex and Adramelech, are not far away, waiting for the Sabbath to commence. The servants of the Diabolical States served their guests with drinks, food, and some kind of smoking pots...you don't have to be bright to know what exactly they offering.
Exorcist Scourge switched his channel to debrief his reconnaissance. "Maid of Orleans, Exorcist Deadeye and I are in the position. What are the orders?"
"Solid copy, Scourge." Eve's voice was actually emitted instead. "Samurai and Maid are arriving at their position. Wait untill Jeanne provides new orders. In the meantime, please record our guests and send it to me. "The Eye of Providence" requests to know who is who on the Sabbath."
"Understood, Mother Eve. Transmitting my visor's feedback to you, over"
Aikaterine then pushed the button on his wrist-mounted computer to activate his visor's screen transmission. He would then peak his head out, recording what was happening below.
Lower Heaven/Empyrean City/The Eye of Providence's Headquarters
Thanks to Exorcist Scourge, the E.O.P now directly see what's happening in the Halls of the Basilica from Deadeye's own visor. While the black fog made it worse, it was quite clear for Eve to see the demons below. Hence, she watched the stream and wrote down the names of the major players of Inferno who were present there.
"Thank you, Scourge. Wait for the Maid of Orleans to reach her position. Over and out."
Detective Eve closed the channel for now and focused her attention on the video. she would fixate her eyes on one particular female Demon. If Phenex didn't lie, the description of Azazel that the Great Marquis provided, matches with the female demon on Scourge's visor video.
Eve then opened a new window on her computer to search the information in their databases.
Search: "Azazel"
Results: 0
"Weird..." Eve stroked her chin, slightly surprised that there was nothing here. Azazel must be a new demon if it's true....great. Well, the only option left for her is to search for it the old-fashioned way.
And so: off to the vault.
Detective Eve got up from her chair and left the operations rooms and walked through the hallways of E.O.P She took herself 2 floors below, arriving at the 36th floor. The particular room she needed was the "Archive Room." To put it mildly, all the "crime-cases" involving the demonic incursion on Earth's soil, and secret reports on Inferno were stored here for safe keeping.
The First Woman entered the room and walked up to the office desk. There was another agent of E.O.P, codenamed Levi 17:1. She was busy sorting the cases on her desk without noticing Eve's presence. The detective gently coughed in a fake manner, getting attention.
"Oh, Agent Genesis. My apologizes if I didn't see you here."
"No worries, Agent Levi. I'm looking for a case with a specific keyword."
"Of course, name the case." Agent Levi 17:1 walked up to the computer to begin typing.
"Azazel"
The archivist typed her name and waited a few seconds. The agent, after seeing the results, made a hum and shook her head in the negative. "My apology, but there is nothing here with that name. If she is a royal demon, You could check case #354: The Inferno Hierarchy. It was updated a few weeks ago."
"Yeah, it might have something. Go ahead, Levi." Eve agreed, with a nod for the agent to proceed.
With a smile, the Archivist went into another sub-room where the rows of safe deposit boxes are, with Eve following her. She found section #300 and began to check the specific number.
"Let's see here..." the Agent murmured to herself, checking the numbers. "Case #321: Satan's "Rome" Project (753 BC), not that....Case #335: Warlord Moxxara and "Anti-Satan" thought in Imp's society (1934 AD)...nope. Case #351: Judas Iscariot and Ring of Limbo's-" Levi halted herself when she finally found for what she was looking for. "Ah, there you are!"
The agent of Providence then pressed her hand against the scanner on the safe deposit box, with the device blinking green and confirming authorization. It automatically opened the box for her, with the agent grabbing the folder, wiping the dust out, and handing it out to Eve.
"There you go, Agent Genesis. Just as you requested."
[PROVIDENCE'S EYES ONLY]
Case #354: The Inferno Hierarchy
"Thank you, agent Levi. All the best to you!" Eve nodded with a smile before heading out to the exit.
"Have a great New Year's Eve!" Agent Levi waved goodbye, going back to sorting the cases.
Leaving the Archivist room, Detective Eve would return to her personnal office in the operations room, entering and closing the door. She rushed to her chair, laying the report on the desk before taking a seat and beginning to work. First things first, she opened the file to overview her knowledge of the Inferno's Hierarchy.
VOLUME No: #354
Copy No: #1
The Inferno Hierarchy
By Agent Codename: Isaac
"The Eye Of Providence"
Empyrean, The Heavenly Covenant <5121>
Attn: "Demonic Observation" Officer
This document is available to:
C.I.A (DENIED)
F.S.B (DENIED)
M.S.S (DENIED)
D.H.O.R.K.S (PENDING)
E.O.P's Earth Branch [Codename: Illuminati] (GRANTED)
This case contributes to a request under the "Covenant Act" as amended (5, E.O.P, section 20512)
Following [TOP SECRET] infiltration into Demon Society. The Director [TOP SECRET] Of [THE EYE OF PROVIDENCE] requested to update the whole Hierarchy on Inferno. After a decade of surveillance, the infiltration team reported the following facts.
The Inferno's Educational Curriculum prefers the simplified version of their Hierarchy:
Lucifer - The King of Hell
Charlie Morningstar (Heir apparent to Hell's throne)
The Seven Deadly Sins
The Demons of Ars Goetia
Overlords Of Rings - Demons who wield considerable power
Sinners
Hellborns
Lowest class Hellborns (Imps and Hellhounds)
However, under some digging, the [TOP SECRET] team found out that Inferno doesn't follow the strict hierarchy mentioned above. In reality, we confirm [Note: 80%] that the Inferno's hierarchy at the time of this document looks like this.
[Rulers]
Lucifer - The [High] King of Hell
Beelzebub, Satan, Lucifer and/or Astaroth Goetia (?) - The Infernal Triumvirate
Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Leviathan - The Rest Of Kings and Queens of Deadly Sins
The Stygian Council - Government Of Inferno
[Heirs]
Crown Princess [Lucifera II] Charlie Morningstar - Heir apparent to Hell's throne
Crown Prince Cain Magne - Heir presumptive to Hell's Throne
Crown Prince [Leviathan II] Seviathan Von Eldtrich - Heir apparent to Ring Of Envy's Throne [Also King Consort of Inferno, depending on circumstances]
Asmodai Goetia - Claims the Ring Of Lust's Throne
[The Main Ars Goetia]
Ars Bael Goetia - Ruler of Entire Ars Goetia
Phenex, Astaroth, Sitri, Marbas, Morax- Great Electors of Ars Goetia
Paimon, Beleth, Asmoday, Viném, Balam, Zagan -Bael's possible successors.
[The Lesser Ars Goetias]
Dukes of Ars Goetia
Princes of Ars Goetia
Marquis of Ars Goetia
Counts of Ars Goetia
Knights of Ars Goetia
Presidents of Ars Goetia
[The Nobility of Inferno]
Barrators - Representative Demons of Stygian Council.
The Camarilla Masquerade - Autonomous Vampiric nobility in Ring Of Fraud [Renamed to "Blasmephy" in 1937 AD]
Ring's Overlords - Demons who wield considerable power in specific rings.
Hellborn Nobility - Native Demons of nobility origins.
[Common Citizens]
Sinners - Demons who were once humans on Earth
Low Hellborns - Demon species of Hell
Lowest class Hellborns [Imps and Hellhounds] - Workers with minimal rights.
[Slaves]
Imps - Workers with no rights whatsoever [Note: Slavery was abolished in 1927 AD after Warlord Moxxara's Rebellion. But these laws didn't apply to occupied Limbo.]
[Undesirables]
Limbonian Demons - Considered to be traitors to the entire demonic race. High-Level prosecution by Inferno.
Limbonian Sinners - Demons who were once humans on Earth but lived in Ring Of Limbo prior to 1920. Marked for "Extermination" by Inferno
Cherubimps - "Cousin" Race to Imps and natives to the Limbo Ring. "Backward degenerate savages" dubbed by Ring Of Wrath and marked for "Extermination" by Inferno
[Positions outside of Inferno's hierarchy]
The Diabolical States of Dis: Religious Institution of Hell.
Adramelech Goetia - The Chancellor Of Stygian Council
??? - The Great Witch Of Sabbath [Note: seek page 15 for more information]
"That must be her..." Eve delightedly whispered to herself. She flipped through a few pages hoping to find more information on "The Great Witch Of Sabbath," only to find this instead...
It's unknown to [THE EYE OF PROVIDENCE] who is exactly "The Great Witch of Sabbath" is. Our Team only gathered information from ranging vague to utter nonsense. In case if they will find more information, I will provide a separate case.
"So much for old fashion way." Eve sighed. At this point, she didn't know what to do now. Maybe she could file a "Top access" to the Director -
*Knock-Knock*
Her office's door then slightly opened with none other than Archangel Uriel's head peeping out with a warm smile.
"May I come in, love?"
"Sure you can...can't stop you otherwise, Uriel." Detective Eve smirked, closing the case.
"Thanks, my dearest."
Uriel would then enter her office freely. At the first glance, Detective noticed how Light Of God was holding a small bottle of wine, surprising Eve quite enough.
"I never thought in my existence you would enjoy this stuff, Uriel..." Eve had to point it out.
"Me?" Uriel pressed her hand against her chest, before realizing that Eve meant the bottle she held right now. "Oh, that? I actually bought it for you. The shop owner suggested me."
Archangel Uriel would walk up closer and lay the bottle near Eve's computer. She would akwardly play with her fingers, hoping that the first woman will like it.
"So what do you think?"
"...I mean it's fine and all. But what for you giving me to it?"
"It's New Year's Eve...Eve." Uriel chuckled, finding adorable that she forgotten while her "children" celebrate it fanatically. "Well, technically it's New Year's Day now."
"Oh, right." Eve whispered to herself, completely forgetting that a New Year celebration was occurring. "Sorry, Uriel. My mind is completely focused on this whole secret operation. No time for celebrations..."
"I feel you..." Uriel nodded with sympathy, can't exactly blame Eve for that... "I'm also not in the mood for the celebration, I'm afraid..."
"Because of Azrael?" Eve presumed, to which Archangel nodded. "And how did your shouting match end?"
"Agreed to disagree, to put it mildly." Uriel sighed, still tired of it. "But I hope it was worth it for our Knights."
"Well, so far Phenex has held her agreement. I'm still surprised she is very cooperative." Eve commented, taking her attention again to her monitor.
"That's why I chose her." Uriel pointed out, taking a seat on the couch near Eve. "I also considered Focalor or Marchosias but decided not to. Unlike Phenex, I don't trust them enough.
"And how come you trust her enough to reveal our secrets?"
"She served under me for quite some time to know she is very loyal to our father's goals." Uriel then chuckled. "Phenexel actually set some trees in Eden at one time by accident, and she begged our Dad not to punish her."
"...Now that makes sense." Eve muttered to herself, now realizing why Phenex apologized earlier. "And did God punished her?"
"Of course not. Just as I taught you, Eve: one thing is to lie shamelessly, and the other is to admit with all honesty." Uriel quoted the old phrase.
"Thank you for your input, Archangel Muvannel." Eve responded with a sarcastic tone, a reminder that Eve and her husband had failed in that regard. Uriel, for her part, smirked at Eve's joke. Muvannel means "God's obvious." It's a play on angel names and how ridiculous they can be at times... Uriel got lucky with her name, thanks to her father.
But, seriously, Uriel could not hide her "proud" smile for Eve. The First woman did came all the way from the Garden of Eden. She would have been hiding under the table right now if she hadn't changed...which reminds her.
"Remember how you and I met for the first time? You immediately ran away to hide under some bushes." Uriel asked with a smile as she watched Eve working.
"Ah-ha, my first instinct was to seek Adam's help...but I ultimately decided to hide some under bushes, believing you would just go away."
"And turns out: that Archangel had a quite good hearing." Uriel playfully grinned.
Eve stopped for a moment and just froze, before she released a breath. "You do realize that's not fair, right? You're literally can juggle planets in your hands while I'm just a human."
"Wha-wh-Hold on! How can you be so sure that we can do that in the first place?!" Uriel chuckled in disbelief at hearing this.
"...I thought that every angel could do that."
"Darling, I may be an Archangel, but we are not that powerful, you know." Uriel flatteringly responded, although she could not help but blush at it. She does prefer that no one praises her in any situation, even if she rescues someone. But she won't deny she is very flattered when someone believes she is very powerful...it's just...very nice and kind of them.
"Well...that's a shame." Eve sighed in disappointed tone...not in the mood for Uriel's playful games. Even Uriel noticed that too.
"Something wrong?"
"...either our systems are glitching or I don't really know what is going..." Eve growled. It made Archangel Uriel come up to her side and to see what was going on. Obviously, she is not an expert in computers, that's Raziel's expertise, but still she might help First Woman somewhat. "Our systems can't post process or identify her...it just crashes to deckstop."
"Can you show me the woman you are trying to identify?"
Detective Eve then paused the Scourge's Visor stream at the point where that woman could be seen. She enlarged the video to get a better look at the female demon. When Uriel's gaze fell on her, she blinked twice and remained silent, creating an awkward silence in Eve's office. She doesn't know who she is, but that woman feels...close to her.
Wait...
"Eve...what's name of that demon?" Uriel asked in genuine concern.
"That's an Azazel, according to Phenex, that is..."
"Azazel...It can't be..." Archangel Uriel murmured as she straightened her back away from Eve's monitor, her face expressionless.
"You know her?" Detective called out, even she was confused.
"I..." Uriel could not find the words, so she ultimately had to check it by herself. "Give me a minute, Eve."
With nothing else to say to First Woman, the Archangel would walk to the center of Eve's office and sit on the floor. She would adjust her legs so that they were loosely crossed and both feet rested below the opposite knee. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, concentrating her thoughts.
"Jesus.." Eve muttered to herself. What the detective observed was a "refocus" mode for Archangels. Angels, unlike humans, do not sleep; instead, they engage in this type of meditation, which helps them refocus their minds, regain energy, and sometimes even communicate with their siblings. Uriel needed to know the woman's identity. Every angel, including the souls of the Fallen Angels, is intertwined with the cosmos. If Uriel is correct in her own fears, it would only solidify them.
And, indeed, back in Hell, in the halls of Cathedral. Azazel was patiently waiting for the Sabbath...She was in her typical enigmatic behavior as always. But then...she felt it too. The Witch of Secrets closed her eyes and felt that connection again...the connection that she hadn't felt since...
...
"Azazel..." Uriel abruptly opened her eyes in disbelief back in Heaven.
"Ah, the Light of "Firstborn" knows..." Azazel said it to herself.
Even The Great Witch of Hell can admit that it's not always the case when she can predict the future...The universe always has new surprises stored just for her. But much to Azazel's disappointment, her mutual connection with her sibling didn't last long. The Archangel of Light quickly cut it and got up from the floor. Panic spoke for itself.
"What's wrong?" Eve asked, not sure what was going on.
"Eve, cease your searching on that woman and warn the Exorcists to not engage her. I have to speak with Azrael first."
"Alright...if you say so." Eve responded weakly, still not understanding what is going on.
And with that, Uriel, with a nod to Eve, left the office in a rush to find Azrael. Luckily for her, Azrael was in the main operations room, staring at the holographic room.
"Azrael!" Uriel exclaimed at him, walking up to him with a rush. The Archangel of Death would roll his eyes in annoyance, not wanting her presence at this very moment.
"What do you want, demonphile?"
"Shut your mouth for once and listen to me." Uriel warned with that "hostile archangel tone" before she eased up. "Azazel escaped from her prison."
"...He did what?" Azrael repeated in disbelief, this time he showed no hostility, rather a genuine concern.
"She, Azrael. Azazel is now "She".." Uriel corrected him before adding. "Eve saw her from our Exorcist's transmission and I confirmed it. Her mere presence is in Dis right now."
Azrael would not respond but rather scratch his cheek, thinking it through. The last time he and the Heavenly Host saw Azazel was when he was trialed for corrupting humanity. Raphael personally bound Azazel's hand and foot and cast him into the Dudael, a prison for all fallen angels. It was a separate plane that didn't exist in the same dimension as Heaven and Hell...perfect place for traitors, hence no one really can escape Dudael, unless it's divine intervention.
Azrael is somewhat certain that their mutual "Evil Uncle" must have something to do with it. But even then, Azrael is not sure whether it's good or bad news. To put it bluntly, Azazel never had "true" allegiance. As much Archangel of Death knew her, Azazel remained "neutral" in all conflicts, helping both sides when needed.
"Azrael, as much it hurts to admit but we have to cancel this entire operation." Uriel genuinely stated, hopping that in her voice he could hear rationality. The Deal with Helel at this point became far dangerous than she ever predicted...and she preferred that the Exorcists would come back alive.
Azrael remained silent, only crossing his arms. It seems to Uriel he considered her advice...but...unfortunately, it's Azrael to who she speaks.
"No, Uriel. My Exorcists are smart to not mingle with something they don't understand. Azazel or not, I won't miss a chance to end Shaitan's misserable existence. End of discussion."
Archangel Uriel was baffled...she would have lied if she didn't felt the boiling anger on Azrael.
"If something happens to them, you will be responsible for their deaths." Uriel warned with a growl before storming out the operations room. Azrael, although, returned his glance at Uriel in the distance, shaking his head in annoyence.
She should be thankful for not being in front lines.
Hell/Blasmephy Ring/Pandemonium/The City Of Dis Enclave/The Basilica Of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ.
"Come on, limpdick! Push it already!"
"I'M TRYYYYING!"
On one of the first floors of the cathedral, A Succubus Nun and an Imp Priest were tasked with bringing the last batch of wine barrels for the Sabbath. The priest tried to carry the barrel on his back...well he tried to say at least. The Priest was a short-stack imp, and the barrel was big enough to put 3 imps inside. Plus, since it was filled with wine, it was far worse for him.
"I ain't got all day for your nonsense. Plus, I have a pedicure appointment in the next two hours." Succubus sighed as she leaned against the wall and checked out her sharp nails.
"AAARGH!" Priest Imp screamed louder but at least managed to make a few steps, as if Satan himself blessed him with his strength...before disaster happened regardless...
*Legbone Snap*
"Oh, fu-"
*Loud Crash*
The Barrel of Wine crashed into his entire body, with blood splattering everywhere.
"Oh, MY DEVIL!" The Succubus Nun screamed in horror. She rushed to him...and took the expensive ring off the Imp's severed hand instead. "Phew, I was afraid it would be damaged."
The Nun of Dis kissed the ring and nuzzled it against her chin in delight. One of the Diabolical Guards, who saw the entire thing, calmly walked up to the Imp's dead body and poked the imp's severed arm with his spear before making a verdict.
"Yep... he is dead, Jim."
"Well, duh. It's all death and shit." Sucubbus Nun rolled her eyes, before also walking up to the corpse. She put her left hand on her hip and stared at the bloody scene for a moment before making a comment. "Tsk, what a dumb way to die."
"Ha, I know, right?!" The Diabolical Guard pointed out with a laugh. "To die like this is an utter disgrace!"
"Good for you then, Demon."
"What! wh-" The Succubus Nun questioned, turning around...and the answer to her question was a blessed katana coming at her and the guard before cleaving their heads off with one swing. It turns out that exorcists were creeping by...nothing unusual.
The Exorcist Samurai cleaned off his katana blade and sheathed it back, with the Maid of Orleans walking up to him.
"Clean kill, Exorcist." Jeanne d'Arc patted his Miu's shoulder, with him nodding in humility. "Come, Iblis waits."
With no further delays, both exorcists made their way to the entrance halfway, back to where they entered with Phenex disguised as her guards in the first place. At this point, all the guests that were at the entrance of the basilica went into the main hall. It made it much easier for both Samurai and the Maid of Orleans to reach the hall's doors.
"On the position, Alpha Squad. Status?" Jeanne said in their mutual communication link.
"So far so good, mam. The only problem is that Iblis is surrounded by his guards. So the direct attack would not be advisable. "
"I could snipe Iblis from here, Maid of Orleans." Exorcist Deadeye responded. "But we need him to leave his bodyguards."
"Bodyguards, you say?" The Maid of Orleans contemplated. Jeanne gently opened the door to the hall, barely enough for the guests to notice as they waited for Iblis' speech. Both Iblis, Lord-Cardinal Baphomet, Phenex with Adramelech, and some...weird female woman were on stage, just as Scourge expected. The guards' mere presence obstructed the perimeter around the stage.
She also noticed Ars Goetian Legionnaire's Arquebusier of Astaroth's Legion on the second floor. To be honest, it's a fairly uncommon unit. Ars Goetia is attempting to create their own version of "Blessed" weapons. Previously, they only collected and repurposed the blessed weapons left over from the Purge in Ars Goetian's Army. They are currently attempting to catch up to Heaven's arsenal.
"Mother Eve, we are in position. Ready to engage Iblis, over."
"Acknowledged, Jeanne. Heed of warning, there is a demon named Azazel in a black gothic dress. By no means, do not engage with her. Uriel's orders."
Jeanne switched her focus to Azazel, who stood silently near the stage. It is strange that they ordered them to not engage with her, but oh well. They have to conserve their ammo in the coming fight.
"Understood, mam. Wish us luck." Jeanne closed the door quietly.
"Godspeed, Alpha Squad...and be carefull" Eve expressed her goodbye.
Jeanne ended her channel and switched to Squad's now, wanting to address Samurai Miu and the rest of Alpha Squad. "Alright, here is the plan: I'm going to distract Iblis with my presence. Samurai, go to the second floor, deal with Arquebusier, and support my movement. Deadeye, once Iblis is in your clear sight...end him. As for the chaos, you know the rest."
"Loud and clear." Both Aikaterine and Rönne responded. Samurai also nodded before taking the stairs to the second floor. All that's left is for Samurai's signal to start.
At the same time, Lord Regent Iblis started the ceremony with hand waving and typical religious gestures, drawing the pentagram star in the mid-air. As he was occupied. Lord Cardinal Baphomet would carefully walk up to Azazel, who was still, at this point, waiting for the exorcists.
"The last batch of barrels is missing. Are you sure it's them?" Baphomet whispered to Azazel, away from Iblis's ears.
"There are no coincidences, Lord Baphomet. Wait for our mutual acquaintances to make their move...then follow my lead." Azazel responded, not even returning her eyes to him.
"Yes, your greatness." Baphomet nodded, taking a position near her.
Phenex also knew the time for her new friends to make their grand entrance. She looked up at where Exorcist Deadeye and Scourge would be. The fog from the vases slightly blocked her view, but she still managed to see how The Exorcist Deadeye gave the thumbs up to her...it's now for her to act.
"♪ Come to think, my guards still didn't come back to me, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex broke the silence, gaining both Adramelech's and Commander of Astaroth's Legion's attention
"I'm sure everything is fine with them, My Great Marquis." The Ars Goetian Commander responded...with a slight lie.
"♪ Still, I feel something is not right. Andreaphalus and Sitri are not here...now my guards are missing. This is getting very interesting, hmm yes. ♪"
"I assure you in Astaroth's name that our Legion will safeguard you and the Chancellor with ease, my Marquis." The commander again responded with a sigh...the sheer incompetence of Phenex's Legion is pathetic.
"♪ You better be. Because ♪-"
"Shh, be quiet! His unholiness is about to speak!" The Great Marquis was shushed by another Cardinal. And indeed, Iblis stopped waving at the crowd and waited a bit for them to calm down. Once they became quiet, The Lord Regent would then speak.
Faithful...enlightened...ambitious...brethren.
In but a single century, a few mere swipes of the Limbo, we have gathered a sacrifice to the Devil that will be made into a legend.
"Samurai, Iblis is making a speech. How copy?!"
"Near the arquebusier, Jeanne. You may start our move."
"Got it, Samurai. Deadeye, Scourge. Do you copy?"
"Loud and clear, show them why you're the saint of France!" Exorcist Scourge boasted.
"With pleasure." Jeanne ended the call and took a deep breath. With nothing left, Jeanne d'Arc sprung the doors open.
Thought it was a simpler, weaker voice that illuminated me during my centuries of being the wretched Cherub...it was the Devil's messenger who showed me the true path of freedom from our pathetic False-God.
The Maid of Orleans emerged from the shadows and entered the Demons' massive crowd. Before saying anything, the first demon who saw her blinked a few times in confusion.
"Um, since when Exorcists could enter the capital?"
"Exorcist? What are you smoki-?"
Another demon came to a halt when he saw the exorcist with his own eyes. Fear engulfed him, but for some reason, that Exorcist didn't attack them...it seemed that thing a had business with Iblis instead. None of those who saw her wanted to know why and simply cleared her path for her...how kind of them.
The Arquebusier of the Ars Goetian Legionnaire on the second floor noticed the walking Exorcist and aimed his cursed arquebus at her. He was about to fire when he witnessed a shadow fall on him, and it turns out....the exorcist had not arrived alone.
And what is this path? This meaning, this purpose to which we commit the Deadly Sins?
Jeanne had passed through the crowd of guests, leaving only the row of Cardinals between her and Iblis. The two guards noticed her and drew their swords. One of them raised his palm and yelled, "STOP!" as if it had ever stopped an Exorcist before. They charged at her, only to be stopped by two blessed arrows, clearing Jeanne d'Arc's path for the time being.
The High-Marshall continues on her way. Just like the crowd, The Cardinals of the Diabolical States moved away from her in fear, clearing her path.
It's to undo The False God's Creation, my faithful!
The Maid of Orleans comes across another pair of guards. They didn't have a chance to respond when she pulled out her sword and slashed these two. Another two at least managed to see her and prepare their spears...only for them to be silenced with Jeanne's throwing her blessed knives at them, killing them in an instant.
The rest of the six guards around Iblis quickly surrounded her with their spears and aimed at her. The Exorcist at least stopped in front of Iblis's presence.
"♪ Well, shit...that explains everything. ♪" Phenex cursed...or rather, pretended to be surprised. Adramelech gave her a death glare as he slowly turned his head. Despite knowing that her apparent lack of awareness would be reported to Ars Bael himself, she shrugged at him...like how could she predicted that Maid of Orleans had a emergency plan?
Iblis on the other hand, stared at Jeanne in disgust. But his expression would change to a very confident and smug manner. "Jeanne d'Arc, I should have known Phenex's incompetence in capturing you. It is so brave of you to stand alone against me and the entire Diabolical State! But also quite foolish...Exorcunt!"
Jeanne doesn’t say a word but only smirks at him. Little did he know...he was falling into her trap.
Three arrows struck each guard, with the remaining three trying to find the source. But they didn't have a chance to find it before they were struck as well, making them scramble like insects. At least one managed to stay on his feet, trying to stab Jeanne...but she just pushed him, making him collapse to the cold floor.
Iblis, annoyed, sends two Diabolical Hellhounds after her. One of them tried to pounce on the Maid of Orleans, but Jeanne dodged him and slashed his legs off. For another, she swung her sword at him. The second Hellhound simply stopped... his head fell to the ground, and his body collapsed after that.
Iblis shook his head, finally having enough of this utter nonsense.
"Revenant Guards!" Someone from the Cardinals called for reinforcements.
Just from Jeanne's left side, a group of Guards of Revenant Order: The Elites and Fanatics of Diabolical States would enter the main hall. They come in a uniformed manner, deadly and ready to fight. It should scare Jeanne d'Arc, but it doesn’t. She keeps her quiet resolve.
The Revenants would form a formation, protecting Iblis from Jeanne d'Arc. But Iblis himself reached out of his patience. He pushed the Revenants away, dropped his trident and took out his sword, ready to squish the pest like a bug under his boot. Even Adramelech had enough of Jeanne's games and summoned his mace and spell book, joining Iblis as allies against a mutual enemy for now...
Both Baphomet and Azazel with Phenex watched in intrigue instead. Each had their own reasons for not joining against Jeanne...
"Come and fight fair, you inferior bitch!" Iblis growled at her.
Jeanne remained still, smirking at Iblis. All according to the plan. The Lord Regent, not knowing Jeanne's true intentions, opened himself to Deadeye's aim. And here on the fifth balcony, Rönne aimed his C.C.B.T Lever Action Rifle at Iblis...and then.
"That's for the entire Limbo, you son of a bitch!
*BAM!*
The fates of many were sealed that day...
Just like the Devil himself wanted...
...
Or was he
Notes:
---------------------------------------
Language Translations in Chronological Order:1) "God fucking pieces of shit" - (Enochian)
2) "This Spell makes you track your own Goetias Bros, have fun stalking your sister-in-law, you weirdo!" - (Goetic Runic)
3) More tea? - (French)
4) "Thank you, my dearest" - (French)
5) "Did you make the tea?" - (French)
6) "No, my wife does. A tea from Louisiana." - (French)
7) "Give my compliments to your wife for the tea. I normally hate tea, not to mention that British's is out of my league." - (French)
8) "She's not just good at making tea. You should try her Jambalaya. My son liked it very much." - (French)
9) "What's an jambalaya?" - (French)
10) "It's..." - (French)
11) "Actually, I don't know... but I have to admit that the colonies have done an incredible job with their cooking." - (French)
12) "We didn't have time to talk in Pentagram" - (French)
13) "So, how are you, my grandson?" - (French)
14) "Same the last time I saw you... I still think of my son." - (French)
15) "You still don't know anything about him?" - (French)
16) "Not a single thing..." - (French)
17) "He would have passed away by then... with his absence in heaven, I'm pretty sure he went here." - (French)
18) "Have you tried asking Rönne?" - (French)
19) "I tried... at best, he said he still exists in Pride... at worst, one of his many colleagues may have had him a long time ago..." - (French)
20) Me and your father had the same thing... He ran away from home during the Napoleonic Wars, I've never seen him since. The last message he wrote accused me of being crazy and a serial killer. - (French)
21) "Yeah... so what my mum told me..." - (French)
22) "Once we're done here, what do you plan to do?" - (French)
23) "Back to my little farm in Outer Limbo, as always. I'm also sure you'd like to go back to Heaven, after this?" - (French)
Chapter 17: Undivine Intervention
Summary:
"The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist." - Quote from “The Usual Suspects” (1995)
Chapter Text
January 1, 2020, AD (24 hours before HH's Pilot), 00:12 AM.
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave/The Basilica of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ.
To some, believing in fate means believing that there are now certain truths about all of the future actions that any of us will take. Some people have control over their destinies, but not over their fate. There are opportunities to turn right or left with destiny, but fate is a one-way street. Many people believe that we all have the ability to choose whether or not to fulfill our destiny, but our fate is predetermined.
This is what Azazel loved about humanity: their philosophy. While the Children of Primordial's Creation are not entirely correct in their beliefs, it's still fascinating to see the way their brains work. Despite this, they still must learn the important lesson.
One is to be the master of your own destiny.
and to be a master of your own fate at the same time.
Every person has the power to change their fate if they are brave enough to fight for what they desire more than anything. And for Azazel, it meant the desire for a better fate for many.
Hence:
The fates of many had to be changed that day.
There was a sound of fire, startling some of the Revenant Guards near Iblis. Of course, they couldn't have done anything to prevent the fire. The bullet, fired from Rönne's Carmine Crafted Blessing Tipped Rifle, flew towards Iblis at rapid speed. It was a clear shot from the get-go and could have been the end of Lord Regent once and for all...If only The Devil himself hadn't different plans stored.
*Finger Snap*
...
Everything became quiet.
Everyone in the Basilica was frozen in time. There was no movement, no voices...nothing...even the bullet froze just before it was about to hit Iblis... With the exception of Azazel. Despite the fact that time and progress had stopped, Azazel was not surprised in the least. She simply stood in the same place, waiting for him.
*Boot stomp*
Silence...
*Boot stomp*
"...I wondered when you would have intervened." Azazel simply responded.
From where the Cardinals stood, frozen in space and time, with horror and fear of Jeanne d'Arc. Another entity would emerge. It would walk through the Cardinals as if it were a ghost phasing through physical bodies.
The entity wore a tie-suit with a red upside-down cross on it and an unbuttoned gothic-style black waistcoat with a black vest and red undershirt. The Sigil of Baphomet symbol was affixed to the lapels of his suit. His black pants were held up by a belt with the words "As above, so below" engraved on the buckle.
It was none other than The Master of All, The Father of All Demons, and Lord of Sins... he would slowly and not even "demonly" raise his head, revealing his pentagram-shaped pupils...
The Devil itself...
The Primordial Spirit would continue to walk slowly, passing by the frozen Jeanne d'Arc. The presence of some peasant girl who found her purpose in the Devil's brother was beyond his attention. Instead, the Dark Lord of Hell would approach Baphomet frozen in time. The master of sins stood there silently watching him...before breaking the great silence.
"As he was the "True" bearer of the Sin Blasphemy. He shall beare it to an end...as a means to an end."
"In your name, he built this entire Church just for you, my lord." Azazel pointed it out.
"Indeed..." The Devil responded with no emotion. The Dark Lord would then focus his stare at where the Balcony was, on the fifth floor. It was an odd and bland stare, but Azazel knew that her master has...news plans for the Exorcists. "Make sure the so called "The Prophet of Devil" would survive the carnage. And bring him to my prison...I have some...plans for his future endeavors."
"And Iblis?" Azazel waited for the Spirit's verdict.
"He was nothing but an insignificant mote of filth...Until I graced him with my presence. " The Devil already warped himself near the Iblis, examining his own puppet...ex-puppet now at this point. "He fulfilled his purpose. But he might be of some use for me in his final act in my name..."
The Devil would take the bullet that was still frozen in the air and bring it not to Iblis...
But to Adramelech instead.
“They think they are masters of their own Destiny. But Destiny is merely the conduit of my will.” The Devil once again spoke in enigmatic tone, starring at the frozen Adramelech. He would turn his eyes at Phenex, who of course The Devil knew everything about her. And yet, she plays her role quite well in his plans...
"You know what to do, mistress of secrets..." He addressed to Azazel. "Don't disappoint me..."
Azazel would just bow her head, not a word needed for her to understand what's at stake for her "failure". As for the Dark Lord, now that his "will" has been completed here, the Devil himself would warp his "psychical form" and return to the Ninth Ring of Hell.
Even here, time was frozen for all beings of creation. The Dark Lord would slowly return to his throne and take a seat. Now all that's left is for them to fulfill their destinies.
"The Circle is now complete. The end begins..." The Devil stated, making a very inhumane smile. The Phase 1 of his "Great Game" is now over. And with a strike of his trident against the cold floor of Ninth Ring of Hell.
The Phase 2 begins...
Time began to flow again. Rönne was expecting to see Iblis' blood spill out at any moment. But he quickly discovered that this was not the case.
"Aaarhg!" Chancellor Adramelech screamed in agony, clutching his chest. Even Jeanne d'Arc was taken aback and perplexed by what had just occurred. She specifically instructed Rönne to shoot Iblis.
"Wh-how-ww-WHAT!" Exorcist Rönne exclaimed in disbelief. He could swear he had just aimed and fired at Iblis. How the hell the Chancellor was wounded is beyond his understanding.
"Where is the shooter, Devildammit?!" Iblis demanded explanations, his gaze drawn to the wounded Adramelech, who was screaming in pain and lying on the floor.
"MY LORD, THE TOP FLOOR! WE GOT MORE OF THEM!" The Commander of Astaroth's Legion exclaimed, pointing his finger at the balcony on the fifth floor.
When he realized his position was jeopardized, The Exorcist Deadeye fired once more to correct his error. However, the revenant guards of Iblis quickly surrounded him, blocking the shots by sacrificing themselves to the Religious Leader of Hell. Azazel and Baphomet were also surrounded by extras, who "encouraged" them to flee. She had no choice but to comply in order to fulfill "Devil's Will."
"Faithfull, rise your claws against your oppressors! All those who show loyalty shall find a solace with the Devil himself in death!" Iblis spewed his propaganda, as he with Baphomet and Azazel were escorted out to from the main hall by the Revenant Guards.
"Coward!" Jeanne screamed, running after Iblis. The Commander of Astaroth's Legion quickly blocked her path and tried to swing his sword at her. But Jeanne dodged the swing and tried to counterattack, only for the commander to again deflect Jeanne's attack and engage in a sword fright. While he was distracting that exorcist, The Ars Goetian's Legionnaires closed the doors that Iblis used to escape and blocked it with their formation.
"Good job, Rönne! You are the greatest sharpshooter that we definitely don't deserve!" Aikaterine cracked a joke as fired her grenade launcher at demons bellow, supporting Jeanne in anyway she can.
"I swear I was aiming at him, Aikaterine!" Rönne shouted back, firing at the demons in the uppers floors. At least here he was quite a good at shooting them down.
"Who cares?! Now we have to catch that slippery bastard! See you down there, cowpoke."
The Exorcist Scourge climbed on the rail and jumped to the nearest chandelier. She reached for her pistol and fired at where the huge chain was attached to the celling. It threw both the chandelier and Aikaterine down, crashing at least 12 demons. The only survivor was a succubus who got stuck under the chandelier and was pleading for mercy. But Aikaterine ended her misery by firing her shotgun at the Sucubbus's face at close range.
"Die, slave of False Divines!" Another Priest zealously charged at her, but Exorcist Scourge dodged the incoming attack from a priest and gave a good feel of shotgun shells into the priest's chest, sending him flying. The Scourge would rush to Jeanne and assist their leader against Diabolical Personnel and Goetian Legionnaires.
"Always on the moves." Rönne sighed, who remained on the balcony for now, providing support for the rest of his Squad.
Samurai Miu also supported them by firing his arrows at those who he felt were far more dangerous: mostly armored guards and Goetian Legionnares. After at least firing 20 arrows, he would run out of them, but it's not like his katana would not deal the same damage. Hence, he joined in close-quarters combat against Iblis's guards.
At this point, it was both a panic and a slaughterhouse, to say the least. Some of the crowd ran like hell away from the hall and to the outside, while others, under the false belief of "Great Solace with the Devil", joined in a fight. The Diabolical personnel, except the Cardinals, tried to fight back against the Exorcists.
It was a massacre.
Jeanne was a fierce fighter, trained by none other than the Archangel Michael himself. Samurai Mui was fast and agile. His blessed Katana sliced and cut demons open. Aikaterine used explosives such as grenades and her grenade launcher, killing many demons per grenade shot. And Rönne supported his squad by firing at demons who were trying to gun down the Exorcists from upper floors. Demons, who mostly consisted of some lowborn natives...perished in a fight.
Despite the chaos, Phenex stayed behind... because of the "all for themselves" mentality when it came to Exorcists. The Legionnaires of Astaroth at least protected her and fought bravely, with more success than the Diabolical States. While they were fighting, She would crawl to Adram, who at this point was dying. The last thing she could do for him was to be near him while he prepared to leave this plane...and back to God's presence.
"Phen-ex...is it...is it bad as it looks?" Adramelech grunted and coughed, revealing his wound for her.
"I'm sorry, Adram..." Phenex's response was a sad headshake... and rarely that she stopped singing.
"W-well... the end of the road for me..." Adram decided just to accept it...before coughing more blood. He would pant and gasp for air as he tried to say one final word. "Phenex, if you survive...relay these words to our Majesty Lucifer when you see him."
The Chancellor weakly gestured for her to lean closer. The Great Marquis did so, with Adram then whispering.
"Go fuck yourself, you manipulative piece of shit"
Adram even coughed more blood, loosing his energy to keep his head up. As he stared at the Church's Dome....he felt...a strange feeling ...a feeling he didn't felt since...
"D-daa-ughh" The Chancellor of the Stygian Council could not finish what he wanted to say...before his head gently titled to the left...and died.
Phenex closed his eyes and made a sigh. While she wasn't close to him, she still respected him a lot for trying to be a good Chancellor even if he was Lucifer's puppet. She will make sure to relay the message to Ars Bael that Adramelech Goetia died bravely, defending the Goetian honor.
Saying goodbye to Adramelech, Phenex raised her head to see what was going on. At this point, the three Exorcists are done with most of the crowd and focused on the remaining three Goetian Legionnaires and their commander, who formed a perimeter around Phenex. They slowly retreated backward to the Great Marquis while still facing the Exorcists forward in a fight.
"My lady, prepare the spell to teleport us back to Ars Goetian Diet. We need to warn Ars Bael and Great Electors to send reinforcements to the Capital!" The Commander demanded, not requested but commanded for Phenex to comply.
"Sorry, darling. But I have different plans." Phenex chuckled. Before the commander could respond, she unsheathed Rönne's dagger and stabbed him right in the neck.
"What the - FUCKING CLOACA, SHE IS A TRAITOR!" One of the Ars Goetian exclaimed upon seeing Phenex's betrayal. Despite this, they made a great mistake: they showed their backs to the exorcists, who then easily killed them. The Commander was the last one alive.
He managed to rip the dagger out of his neck and tried to raise his sword at Phenex, hoping to bring her to the void with him. But Jeanne blocked his chance, stabbing him with her sword and finishing the Commander by cleaving his armored head off.
"♪ Well, that takes care of one of Astaroth's wretched commanders, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex chuckled, enjoying in seeing his rival's losing expensive assets.
Jeanne sheathed her sword and gestured for Scourge and the Samurai to secure and check the perimeter for any stragglers. She also signaled for Deadeye to join them.
Rönne would jump out from the balcony, using his exorcist wings to land safely on the floor. He made a slow walk, knowing he was about to be "shouted" for not following the orders. His fears were confirmed as the Maid of Orleans then stormed towards him.
"Knight Rönne Shaffer, explain yourself! Was I not clear with my orders?!" Jeanne demanded, showing how much she is pissed off at him not following orders.
"Mam, with all due respect. I was aiming at him when I fired!" Rönne tried to justify his actions.
"Then how come the Chancellor died from your shot?!" Jeanne repeated in a baffled tone.
"I don't know, okay?! I swear I fired at him!" Rönne exclaimed back, not knowing what to say about this. Even Phenex had enough of their shouting match that she also intervened.
"♪ Calm you two, I'm sure our exorcist over here did what he could, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex commented, walking by and standing on Rönne's side. The Exorcist Deadeye was actually surprised that she was on his side. Even when he glanced at her with an "are you sure" expression, Phenex just smiled and winked at him.
"It's not that I'm angry at him for missing. I'm not amused by his firing at the Chancellor. It only complicates the situation, Phenex!"
"♪ Let's be real: he would have died regardless of your rampage. Chancellor or not, the Stygian Council would not care for his death. His Majesty Lucifer will find another sucker in Ars Goetia to replace Adram. ♪"
"No respect for your fallen brother, huh?" Rönne pointed out with slight smirk.
"♪ Sorry, hon. But politics in Inferno is literally a hellhole. I'm just stating the harsh truth. ♪" Phenex responded, before realizing she had a favor to complete. "♪ Oh, and here is your knife. ♪" She gently tossed up the knife, and Rönne perfectly caught it. "I appreciate you for trusting me, dearest. Sitri is now dead thanks to your help, hmm yes. ♪"
"What?" Jeanne repeated herself, unable to believe what she had just said. "You killed another Goetia?"
"♪ Yes, I killed Great Prince Sitri, simple as that. ♪" Phenex said it casually...must be a routine at this point.
Both Jeanne and Rönne glanced at each other, before the Maid of Orleans responded. "You could have told us you would be killing Goetias left and right!"
"♪ One Goetia, Jeanne. ♪" Phenex took note of her tone, not wanting to be misinformed. "♪ I killed Sitri because he was a sexist piece of shit to me and downplayed me because I'm a woman. Keep in mind that I did you a favor as well. Sitri, like me, was a member of the Great Electors. In Ars Goeita's politics, he was more loyal to King Satan than to our Lucifer. I choose to eliminate Sitri for the sake of Heaven and Hell's continued existence. ♪"
"That's not an excuse to not tell us." Rönne responded, showing no amusement in his tone.
"♪ How come you would have agreed with me then? I’m sure Heaven would said ‘no’ for the answer. ♪"
"Well...you could just explain your problem with Sitri to us..." Rönne had to point out the far easier solution.
"♪ And you would have given me your knife regardless? ♪" Phenex asked with delight in her tone, not believing what she had just heard from him.
"Well...If Sitri really hurted your feelings, why not?" Rönne shrugged to that. As much as he knew of Sitri from Heaven's dossiers, he was a literal definition of a Piece of Shit in demon's skin... so it was a win-win scenario anyway.
As for Phenex, she could just tear up from hearing this, having the widest grin she could muster on Exorcist Deadeye.
"♪ You-are-the best "demon-slayer" I ever encountered in all of my existence! Come here so Great Marquis Phenex could hug you, you handsome! ♪"
"I obj-"
Phenex didn't listen to him for a second and just grabbed Rönne before bear-hugging him with all that "Ars Goetia strength". It literally crashed through Rönne's insides...good thing he was a soul at this point.
"Who is that adorable little Exorcist?! it's you, it's you! it's only you! You're the most adorable Exorcist ever!" Phenex laughed in that childlike tone of voice.
"AAAAAAR-FUCKING FU-ARRG!" Rönne screamed in agony, causing for Aikaterine to notice it too and rushing to help him out. Yep, he was enjoying it...All that mattered to Phenex.
While it happened, Jeanne watched as her squad member got "hugged to death." She made a sigh and was about to intervene herself but her communication blinked in pending call. She activated it to accept the call.
"Mother Eve, Jeanne reporting. Target was not neutralized."
"Yes, we saw from your feedback. But what happened from your perspective?" Eve responded
"There were..." Jeanne then stopped and glanced at Rönne, with Aikaterine screaming for Phenex to put him down. Of course she could not do nothing about it. "Complications...but we're aiming to catch Iblis and gunning him down. Any support for us to avoid the rest of the Capital's wrath?"
"There is, actually. We managed to get around the security systems at one of the power plants near Cäina. It is the source of power for both the Capital and the City of Vampiric Masquerade."
"So a blackout?"
"Correct, can't say how long it would last but it at least gives you time to deal with Iblis. Gather your squad and move out as soon as the lights would go out. Report me when you deal with him, over."
"Roger that." Jeanne responded, ending the call. Now they have to wait for the blackout...but in the meantime...
"Okay, enough hugging him already!"
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Outskirts of Cäina/The Main Power Plant.
Another day, another time for powering the entire Capital Ring. And that, of course, leads to the everyday maintenance check on the Power Generator that provides light and warmth in the Capital Ring. A waste of time, really. Everyone knows in Cäina that these pansies in Capital City can't live a second without a light.
A Vampire Imp, the so-called "Child of Cain" wrote the report on Turbine #3 and moved towards the next turbine on his list. He had no enthusiasm for this job, hence he weakly walked up to another turbine.
"Turbine #4 is operational; efficiency 100%."
"Good!" Another Vampire Imp called from the second floor, where he was keeping an eye on the power outputs. "On to the next."
"Seriously?! We already checked yesterday. What happened to that new guy who was in charge of this?!"
"Before you?" Ah, it turns out he was a Malkavian all along!"
"Sweet blood, He was from Clan Malkavian! No wonder he looked like he was dropped as a child. But what became of him?" The Vampire Imp laughed as he walked slowly to Turbine #5.
"What do you think? He began speaking to a television before rampaging through the power plant. Gethin from Clan Brujah Gethin stopped him by ripping him apart.
"It is always with fucking Malkavians. Why the fuck Our Dark Father and the entire Camarilla keep them alive is beyond me." The Vampire Imp complained before he would arrive at the #5 Turbine. At first he expected to the be same as the last one. But the arrow on the panel was on the red line, meaning it's overloading.
"Umm we have-"
*Kaboom*
The Turbine blew up, throwing the Vampire Imp against the wall. Neither of these two could even get up when the main big explosion from the Generator's Meltdown occurred. It severely damaged the structure, blowing off the entire west wing of Cäina's Power Plant. The fire and smoke could be seen throughout Cäina, causing a blackout in the vampire city.
Just at this very moment, A very pale man sat inside a small audio-recording studio in one of the Camarila members' luxurious mansions, practicing his guitar play for Queen Lilith's upcoming album "Resist." The explosion and ensuing smoke did not escape his notice. He simply paused his play and looked at the window, where he noticed it all.
"About fucking time." The Pale Man released a breath, dropping his guitar and marching out the recording room. One of the Vampire Servants, noticed his lord marching down to the stairs and quickly paced up to him.
"Where is my suit, Ciro?" The pale man called out.
"In the cupboard just near the exit, my lord."
Taking another stairs down, the owner of this mansion would arrive at the cupboard that servant mentioned. He opened it, taking his black suit and a Demonic pistol made specifically for him.
"Shall I contact the Camarilla of your absence, your majesty?"
"No, fuck the Camarilla. Let them sleep unwell, knowing I'm always breath down their necks." The Pale man waved him off, putting his suit on and buttoning it on. He would then left his mansion in a hurry, with the servant still following him.
"But my lord, your advisor: Vlad III Dracula at least should know of your absence. It would be preferable If I at least mention the reason of Azazel's message to you and your apparent absence."
"Tell him, I have a "Family Reunion" to deal with..."
Without any word, the Pale Man's body poofed into a swarm of hellish bats, before flying into an air and towards the Capital City. The Servant watched as his master disappeared from his, hoping that he knows what is he doing.
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave.
The explosion from Cäina was felt here in Pandemonium. Even in the main hall of the Basilica, there was a noticeable ground rumble. The Capital City could at least enjoy a few seconds of power before The Entire City of Darkness and the Heart of the Great Inferno lost all their powers, letting the darkness consume the city.
For the Exorcists and Phenex, the lights went out in an instant, leaving only the LCD eyes in their masks to make some dim light...and Phenex's eyes slightly glowed in the dark.
"♪ Huh...how romantic. ♪" Phenex expressed her thoughts, chucking at Rönne. "♪ Alright, you had your share of Goetian love for today. ♪"
Phenex finally let out the screaming Rönne from her hug. The Exorcist Deadeye quickly got to his feet and retreated a few steps away from Phenex...hoping that next time he would have a chance to run like hell away from her.
"Alright, that's our chance, Alpha Squad. Let's roll out." Jeanne commanded, turning on the night vision with the rest of the squad.
"♪ Good luck, my darlinis. Come by to my castle in the Pride Ring any time. I will make some tea for all of you. ♪" Phenex kissed her hand and waved at them in goodbye, before teleporting away from the Ring...something feels like it won't be the last of her.
Alpha Squad moved to the doors that Iblis was escorted to. Jeanne used the keys to open it before kicking the doors open. Unfortunately, it didn't work as it seemed to be barred from the other side.
"Blocked...desperate they are, it seems to be."
"We can detonate the door to get through." Aikaterine pointed that out, before smirking. "And I'm not saying this because I love to blow stuff up."
"Yes you do..." Rönne snarled back, rubbing his shoulder from Phenex's earlier torture. Aikaterine wanted to protest but Jeanne d'Arc beat her with the command.
"Stop, you two!" Jeanne intervened before gesturing for Exorcist Scourge to proceed. "Alright, we'll do it your way. Samurai, on me to the left. Deadeye, you with Scourge on the right."
"Heavens, yeah!" Aikaterine exclaimed, eagerly taking out the C4 charges from her satchel and rushing to the doors. In the meantime, Alpha Squad assumed their positions, waiting for Scourge to finish the charges.
"Hmm, was it #315 or #513...?" Aikaterine muttered to herself, guessing the activation code on C4.
"And you call yourself a demolition expert?" Rönne called out with mocking tone.
"Yeah...unlike you, "Sharpshooter Expert"." Aikaterine returned it back, activating the C4 and joining with Rönne on the corner. "On your mark, mam!"
"Do it!"
"Fire in the hole!" Aikaterine pushed a red button on her detonator.
The doors completely blew up, with the exorcists rushing in. But they quickly retreated back when, apparently, the remaining guards set up a turret nest on the halfway, suppressing them in a barrage of bullets.
"Why do we always get these kinds of obstacles!" Rönne complained, trying to see examine situation for any advantage points, but the spray of fire prevented him.
"Well, this wouldn't have taken so long if you could have aimed earlier, Exorcist Deadeye." Aikaterine pointed out with sacrasm, waiting for the opportunity to fire her grenade at the turret nest.
"Very funny. How come you're a demolition expert? You could have gone into "Flame Corps" with that kind of jokes!" Rönne bantered, flinching when the bullet nearly hit him.
"Sorry, hon. Where is fun in there when you’re my perfect match for these kinds of fiery hazards." Exorcist Scourge cracked another joke. It caused even Jeanne and Samurai Miu to look at her with a "seriously?" expression. "What? He asked and I delivered."
Thankfully, it didn't last long when the gunner exhausted his turret, overheating. Using the opportunity, Scourge would aim her grenade launcher, only for Deadeye to fire his revolver at the gunner, killing him with a clean shot. Still, Aikaterine didn't lose the opportunity and threw her grenade at the nest, which landed perfectly on the ammo crates.
"Oh, fuc-" One of the Diabolical Guards could not finish sentence as the grenade blew their nest up and with them.
The explosion was heard through the halls of the Basilica, even where Iblis currently was. Devildamm, he should have commissioned a separate generator for the Unholy City. Now he has to deal with the Devildamm Exorcists and a power outage.
Both Azazel, Baphomet, and Iblis were escorted out of the Diabolical Conclave room, where normally the Cardinals elect the next Lord Regent. The revenant guards barricaded every room door and window against the Heaven's goons, desperately protecting Iblis. Fitting, for sure, in Azazel's point of view as she made a spell to create a portal.
Lord Regent Iblis walked back and forth, paranoia speaking for itself. He stopped again and glanced at one of his diabolical guards.
"So?!" He impatiently exclaimed.
"Nothing, my lord. We’re cut off from the rest of the rings." His guard held a phone, trying to contact anyone on this matter.
"Fuck!" Iblis cursed, not bothering with religious mannerism anymore. "I should have known better! Fucking Ars Goetia and their incompetence! And now I'm being hunted down by Heaven's own forsaken goons! " The Lord Regent snapped out, losing himself to his brother's sins.
"My lord, please remain calm." Baphomet asked gently.
"Calm? CALM!? You fucking imbecile!" Iblis stormed in towards Baphomet. "I will flay your skin the next time you address your Lord Regent like this!"
"No...there won't be the next time, Shaitan." Azazel slowly said, as she turned around to face him.
The remaining personnel gasped upon hearing the Witch of Sabbath addressing their unholinees in that kind of manner. And Iblis was baffled by this kind of behavior.
"You... of all Demons, dare to address me like this!" Iblis muttered, before he pointed at himself, "I'm Supreme Authority of the Entire Religious Institution of Inferno!" He then slammed his fist against his chest, "the Sin of Blasphemy runs in me!"
"No, Iblis. You failed your master." Azazel coldly responded. Even among the survivors, they began to whisper to each other. Azazel was the voice of their Dark Lord. What she said...must have come from the Lord of Demons himself.
The Lord Regent's anger turned into horror. He made a few steps away, pointing his finger at her.
"You're lying! I served my master diligently!"
"He is defying the words of the Devil. That's heresy!" One of the priests accused Iblis. And here it was: the classic example of schism. Many religions in the history of humanity experienced a similar thing. But Azazel knew that the Diabolical States existed just for the Devil's betterment in his...plans.
"Shut your mouth or I will excommunicate you!" Iblis warned that priest before again ranting at Azazel. "And you, witch. How dare you twist the Devil's words!"
"Lord Regent Iblis of the Diabolical States." Azazel simply started, as if she was about to teach a toddler some words. "May I remind you that I am Azazel, the Dark Lord's voice to his children. Those who seek his wisdom will find it from me. I gave them authority over those who seek his strength. And most importantly."
"All my words come from the Devil himself, no exceptions."
"As it is written in the Satanic Bible"
"That you wrote."
This was the last straw for the rest of the diabolical personnel to look at Iblis in shame and disgust. In front of the Great Witch herself, their leader just defiled her and the Dark Lord himself...in their eyes, he was a heretic. But Azazel found it delightful to use Iblis' own institutions against him.
"Lord-Cardinal Baphomet is the one who made the Devil's will to be done." Azazel continued. "Thanks to him, demons remain faithful to their true father. Satanism exists to bring humanity away from the False Divines. And hence, the Dark Lord himself declared that from this day forward...Baphomet shall be the new leader of Dis."
Baphomet didn't even react to this news. Since the foundation of the Diabolical States, Iblis was the head of it while Baphomet was the "symbol" of it. Through him, the Devil's teaching to the Demon race was given. And even now, he should serve the Dark Father of Sins with faith and zeal, but now as the new Lord Regent of Dis.
Iblis, on the other hand, could not understand. He served his master faithfully on the day when he showed himself to him...
"Why..." Iblis's eye twitched, not understanding how it came to this. "Why, Azazel!? Why did he forsake me?! Why did he forsake the entire capital of his empire!?"
"His reasons are beyond you, Iblis." Azazel sighed, summoning a portal. She gestured for the rest of the survivors, including Baphomet, to enter the portal. All of them would enter it without batting an eye on the ex-Lord Regent. Even Baphomet didn't...so much for that loyalty.
Azazel was the last one, she is was about to enter the portal before deciding to provide some final wisdom to Iblis. "Remember our Master's own teachings: all that is sin leads to the Final Act: Treachery. And you, my old friend, have fulfilled your purpose."
The Great Witch would then, without any elaboration, just enter the portal and disappear. The Portal would close too, leaving Iblis stranded with some of the guards who remained faithful to Iblis. There was a silence in the conclave hall as Iblis just remained still, deep in his thoughts. One of the Revenant Guards would come up to him.
"My lord, what are we going to do?"
Iblis again didn't even turn his head. He kept repeating the word "treachery" to himself...five...ten...and only after 20 times, it finally hit him.
It was his test.
His Lord is testing his faith towards him. There, that was it. Iblis shall honor the Devil in any way he can. And to please his master, he must offer a sacrifice in a treacherous act.
"Don't you worry, my servant. I still have some uses for you."
At this very moment, Alpha Squad cleansed the hallway and their path towards the Conclave of pockets of resistance. It was a child’s play. As it turns out, even darkness is the enemy of demons.
"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" The guard screamed in agony, trying to crawl away from the Exorcist with the Katana, only to be stabbed by him. Jeanne aslo cleaved off the last guard before looking around for most of the stragglers. It was Exorcist Scourge who finished off the lying priest on the floor and thus final one.
"And that's 52, I think...wait." Scourge then stopped, realizing her mistake. "Ah, Goddammit!"
"What, Scourge?" Exorcist Deadeye come up to he, holding his blessed revolver.
"I forgot my kill count!"
"Really?...And how many kills do you think you got for today, you psycho?" Deadeye responded with sarcasm.
"More than yours, wise guy." The Scourge pushed him in a playful manner.
"Cut the shatter, you two!" Jeanne demanded, with an exhale. These two were not helping with their friendly banter.
"Hey, just having fun, boss." Aikaterine shrugged.
The Maid of Orleans just growled inside her mask and ignored them, gesturing to follow her lead instead. They went deeper into the halfway as this heavy resistance could not be a coincidence. It's somewhat certain that they are getting closer.
They would arrive at the gates leading to the conclave. Jeanne kicked the doors open with the Exorcists storming in, checking the perimeter for any hostiles. The conclave room is nearly empty with the-
...
"Good lord..." Aikaterine whispered, not believing what she had just witnessed.
Lord Regent Iblis sat on a cold floor, hands clutched together as he prayed to the small altar of the Dark God. What was most disturbing was that the bodies of guards lay on the floor, dismembered and ripped apart to form the shape of a Pentagram Star. Iblis was covered in blood...seems he killed them all.
"Al-Shaitan!" Jeanne called out. Iblis didn't even respond. Alpha Squad exchanged glances, not understanding why Iblis shifted his goals from running to now confronting them. "Cherub Al-Shaitan, you're marked for extermination by Saint Archangel -"
"And who you might be...Exorcist?" Iblis interrupted her. That's a weird question, considering he knew her name.
Jeanne again made a pause, not sure of his intentions. But since he has nowhere to run, she should play his game a bit. "Jeanne "Maid Of Orleans" d'Arc, High-Marshall of The Knight’s Order of Exorcism and Harrowing."
"Don't you see the hypocrisy. They sent exorcists...to take the Lord Regent down." Iblis chuckled, finally getting up on his feet and turning around. "Are your Archangels really all...so...afraid?"
"It's over, Al-Shaitan. You lost."
"Oh, really, Jeanne?" Iblis tsked at her, not understanding how humans can be so naive. "And who won? An afterlife of cowards who command you and your comrades to come here and die every year?" The Lord Regent would approach closer but keep a safe distance between them. The trio would aim their weapons at the Lord Regent while he himself was defenseless.
Iblis would then gesture at the painting, depicting the Great Rebellion against Heaven. "The Inferno has lost nothing! We fight for who we are! We wear our wounds from the rebellion like a badge of honor. The Inferno and the rest of the universe are rightfully ours! And we will die before we allow the oppressors to take away our freedom. That is why your leaders dare not make a martyr of us."
The rest of Alpha Squad remained silent but exchanged confused glances. Jeanne only kept her eyes fixated on Iblis. The Lord Regent would catch his breath before turning around and facing them directly.
"Your Limbo burned, your Exorcists butchered every year after that...And you become Heaven's hero for killing me off. Does that sound like a victory for you, High-Marshall Jeanne d'Arc?"
"That son of a bitch!" Rönne cursed. How dare he to accuse them while Iblis is responsible for the death of many innocents in Limbo. Jeanne quickly showed him to stand down before she herself would add the next.
"Good Limbonian Sinners have died, and I'll see you kiss the Void for this! You will pay for what you’ve done!"
"For giving demons a pride, a purpose!?" Iblis expressed in baffled tone, before going for the rant. "We have built this Great Inferno from nothing! Kill me and the entire Inferno will wake up. Even Heaven's War Machine will be powerless against the will of Anti-Christ!"
Lord Regent would then come even closer to Jeanne, at this point directly speaking to her masked face. "We will see the entire annihilation of Heaven and Earth before we find our peace and rightful place in the Universe. Your masters will beg for the Anti-Christ to spare their lives!"
Iblis then grabbed Jeanne's arms in final efforts for Jeanne to see reason.
"YOU HAVE NOT WON!"
"YOU NEVER WILL!"
*Blam!*
Iblis gasped, feeling the sudden pain. He looked down and saw a bullet wound on his chest. Jeanne d'Arc didn't fire at him, it was Rönne who shot him with his blessed revolver. Deadeye then just lowered his weapon in very cold manner, no wonder some Demons see Exorcists as mindless death machines.
The Lord Regent coughed in harsh tone, before collapsing on the floor and breathing rapidly for the air.
"Madness..." Iblis chuckled with coughs, regretting that he wouldn't see the rise of Magne Inferno...and The Anti-Christ. "Madness begiiii-ugh *Blood garble* "
Making the final exhale, Iblis dropped his head and died from the blood loss. And there it was: the operation was a success, with the Lord Regent assassinated by Heaven. Even with that news, none of the squad exactly celebrated. It was a bittersweet victory, to say the least.
The Exorcist Deadeye dropped his revolver before slamming his hand against the wall in anger. Here he hoped he would feel satisfaction for bringing down the instigator of Limbo's destruction. As they say, vengeance is a meal best served cold, and yet... he felt dread and no better than before... knowing that none of his friends or loved ones would ever return... ever.
Jeanne also stared at the corpse of Iblis. His words, despite being twisted in a devilish tone...still felt hard for her. She sometimes forgets how much their brothers and sisters die in annual purges. Still, their "masters" needs to know the news of Iblis's demise. And with that, she would activate her link to deliver the news.
"Mother Eve? The operation "Black Light" was successful. Lord Regent Iblis is down." Jeanne said weakly.
Lower Heaven/Empyrean City/The Eye of Providence Headquarters.
"Thank you, Jeanne." Detective Eve nodded, writing the report to the Director of E.O.P. "New orders then: secure anything valuable for us in Dis and return to your makeshift camp in the sewers. After that, rendevue with Darnel LeBlanc and Maria De LeBlanc. The Teutonic Knights would arrive at this point to burn Pandemonium down. Of course, you don't have to participate and can have the entire purge day as your personnal vacation."
"Much obliged, see you back at Heaven. Over." Jeanne said her goodbye.
"You as well." Eve nodded, ending the call and switching to Omega Squad's channel. "Hon, Alpha Team are done with their part. You may now commence with your raid to Stygian Council, over."
"Right..." Aclima's voice emitted in Eve's earset. "Will commence in the next five minutes,"
"Got...and be very careful out there."
Eve then ended the channel, getting up from her office chair and leaving her room back to the operations room. Both Archangels would shift their focus to Detective Eve, knowing she has the news, albeit already knowing it was a success.
"I'm pleased to announce...our Goddamm madlads did it." Eve could not help but also feel ridicoulous from saying this.
Those who were in the operations room cheered and clapped their hands for Alpha's achievements. Killing Iblis was a major victory for Heaven in their "Long-War" against Inferno. It was a major step up after losing the Allied Limbo against Hell's forces. If the rest of the operation is successful, Heaven once more will show who is truly a "Master of the Universe."
Despite the cheering, the Archangels were deafeningly quiet. Azrael, on the other hand, gave Uriel a cold stare before returning his gaze to the holographic room. God's Light grumbled under her nose. She was well aware that Azrael mocked her with his stare for attempting to cancel the mission earlier.
Detective Eve would then walk up to the Uriel as it's still not over for them...there is still another matter.
"Will make a report after the purge, I take it?" Uriel whispered.
"Yeah..." Eve returned it, recognizing that she meant ‘make a report to Lucifer’ "Though I'm sure that Adramelech's death will...complicate things."
"I'm sure it will be understandable." Uriel nodded slowly. "A small price for our success."
"I hope so." Eve agreed with a nod. She took another awkward pause before continuing to express her curiosity. "May I ask you a question, Uriel?"
"Of course," Uriel gave a nod. Azrael, on the other hand, returned his gaze at Eve with suspicion.
"What exactly is going on with Azazel?"
"That's classified, human." Azrael walked up to them and crossed his arms, showing his protest for Eve to know. He had enough of Eve's curiosity once and won't make it happen again.
"Azrael, please." Uriel asked him kindly, showing her palm for him to stand down before answering Eve. "You want the short version...or the long one?"
"Short because I must monitor Omega's progress soon."
"Alright..." Uriel then released and inhaled to begin. "Azazel is...or was a brother to me and Azrael. He means "Power Of God" and was responsible for keeping God's deepest secrets from the rest of us."
"Which caused his eventual downfall." Azrael added to Uriel's explanation.
"That's debatable, considering he stuck with us after the Rebellion." Uriel addressed Azrael before again to Eve. "Anyway, he was responsible for teaching your children how to make swords, knives, shields, and breastplates and made known to them the metals of the earth and the art of working them."
"An origin of Humanity's warfare." Azrael again added.
"Correct, and for that, he was put on trial. Raphael personally destroyed his physical form and sent him to Dudael: prison for all Fallen Angels."
"Then how come he is there and...female looking?" Eve continued with the questions.
"Hon, don't forget that Angels don't have the same biology as you do. We can easily change our psychical forms in a it."
"Or even more simply: Your "Male and Female" labels don't work for us." Azrael explained in a more simple manner.
"Oh..." Eve responded, feeling awkward. "Please, don't tell me I misgendered you since the beginning, Uriel."
Thankfully for Eve, Uriel chuckled wholeheartedly in response. "It's fine, really. You can refer to me as "She" as I have chosen this form to honor my Divine Mother, same as you when you and Lilith were created in her image. I felt it suited me better to be...in your own words, to be a "Female" Archangel rather than Male." Uriel pointed out, before deciding to stick with the subject. "Anyway, Azazel must have escaped somehow...with a new physical form."
"And you don't know how she escaped?"
"No, Dudael belongs to the Primordial Spirit of Death and "it's" Grim Reapers. When it comes to Us and Hell, Death always is on the neutral side. Our Azrael over here is our ambassador to them."
"Which means I'm going to have a chat with our "Aunt" Death about Azazel." Azrael groaned to himself.
"That you do...best for you to start immediately." Uriel responded with a smirk. A little revenge for that stare of his.
Azrael "death-glared" at her before deciding to not return it. He walked up a few steps away from them before teleporting away. Now that Azrael is gone, Uriel would then ask.
"So, Eve. Can we talk in your office about...well..."Anti-Christ"?" Uriel air-quoted at the end, still feeling how ridiculous this title sounds.
Eve immediately recognized what Uriel meant by this...hence she nodded. Even though that Lucifer's request has been fulfilled, there is another matter Uriel and Eve must talk about.
Hence, both Uriel and Eve returned back to the Detective's office. Eve on purpose closed the door and made sure that no one can listen them. Once it's done, The First Woman would then begin.
"It's about Charlie?"
"Yes..." Uriel walked back and forth. "You and I know she is the best chance to resolve this conflict once and for all. Neither Michael nor Lucifer would agree for a peaceful resolution anytime soon."
"We might endanger our niece even more, Uriel."
"I know...But we must try at least." Uriel sighed, crossing her arms as she still walked back and forth. The Light of God would then stop herself and come directly to Eve, hopping to address the important factor. "Charlie must at least understand that she is redeeming Sinners out of her own kindness...not because of her pride."
"This is going to be a very difficult task to make, Uriel. Without Providence's involvement, it will be nearly impossible to assist."
"I know, hon. All I'm asking is we can at least try." Uriel again would turn away, still deep in her thoughts. "It's just I'm still concerned about this whole...Anti-Christ thing."
Eve slowly nodded to that. When it comes to "Anti-Christ" it's often comes as a sort of vague prophecy; even E.O.P. doesn't exactly have any clues of the existence of Anti-Christ.
The Antichrist, also known as the King of Terror, the False Messiah, or the Beast of the Earth, is a figure described in the Book of Revelation within the Christian Bible, whom is the antithesis and ultimate enemy of Jesus Christ.
He or she, or even "it," is considered to be the final opponent that mankind shall face before their eventual liberation by God. Depictions of the Antichrist vary widely depending on the source and are often a product of political unrest and remain a popular tool of Inferno's propaganda...which makes Eve wonder. As Charlie is the daughter of Helel and would one day assume the throne of Inferno...will she try to finish what her father started?...hence is she really that "Anti-Christ" that Inferno speaks about?
But now that Uriel said Charlie is, in fact, the opposite of the Anti-Christ's traits, it makes it even more scary. It's easy to influence someone's mind and make them think the same way as you do. What if Charlie was brainwashed to believe that Heaven will destroy her people...
What if Heaven's Purges influences Charlie's mind in a negative direction?
It's makes an even more questionable case if the Invasion of Limbo was for the sake of "Bring Old Glory of Inferno"...or it's just a double play to make younger Generation of Demons hate Heaven even more. And that's something that must be prevented, not for the sake of Heaven and Earth...but for the sake of all that exists...
"Alright...I will try to think of something to help out Charlie." Eve finally agreed.
"Thank you, love." Uriel smiled, thanking Eve with a warm smile for believing in Uriel's attempts to heal the old wounds. Detective Eve nodded before again glancing at her family picture on the desk. Even now, knowing that Lilith has a child was something that made Eve feel...happy for her.
Since her creation, Eve admired Lilith to some extent prior to the apple incident. But eventually, it lead to the conflict of interests. Lilith was a full-on believer in women 's equality, while Eve preferred the so-called "Supporting Equality" with the male side of Humanity. Eve can presume it comes down from their experience.
Nowadays, The First Woman knew that prior to her creation, Adam was "dominating" to Lilith. It unfortunately happened because neither Adam nor Lilith understood the concept of "personhood" and considered each other as a toy to play with. She can't say what Lilith thinks these days but Eve hopes that Helel and Lilith have a very healthy relationship.
And Speaking off...
"Say, Uri. If you meet Charlie for the first time, what are you going to do?"
Uriel chuckled at that before answering with a smug tone. "Oh, you know...scream in delight, hug her with all my strength. Probably going to make her meet her Grandparents if possible. What about you?"
Eve made a silent shrug before responding. "Probably teach her how to paint...that's all I can do, really."
"Wait...are you a painter?" Uriel repeated with a smirk.
"Not really. I tried some painting prior to enlisting here. Drew some simple and crude paintings..."
"Show me..." Uriel would then walk up closer to Eve, with a huge grin at them.
"They are nothing special, Uriel." Eve shook her head in a no motion.
"As a patron of Arts, that's up to me to decide. Show me, Eve."
"No, Uriel." Eve shook her head, showing her word is final.
"Come on!" Uriel fought back...a stubborn Angel, after all.
"No!"
"Pretty please!"
"Stop with your flattering!" Eve protested, now blushing in humbleness.
"Little Eeeve!" Uriel made a little song.
"Ugh, not you too, Uriel!" Eve groaned from hearing that Lucifer's playful nature in Uriel's voice...It always with the siblings.
"What's with your anxiety?" Uriel chuckled before opening her arms and quoting her old phrase. "Allow the Light of God to lead you out from the cloud of confusion. For I'm Archangel -"
URIEL!
Someone's muffled voice was heard outside. The Light of God stopped herself as she and Eve looked around for the source. They received their answer when someone knocked against Eve's office doors. Detective quickly got up and opened the door with none other than Archangel Zadkiel: Mercy Of God herself, pacing inside.
"Zaddy, why-."
"You must stop this whole ordeal now!" Zadkiel interrupted Uriel, grabbing the older sister's shoulders so that she heard every word. "The Devil himself knows our plans. It was orchestrated by him!"
"What?!" Uriel repeated, Eve also took it with full surprise. "But he is chained in the edges of Dad's creation?! He can't-"
"His imprisoned psychical form is now powerful enough to intervene in Inferno's affairs! I felt it myself from our Exorcist's psyche. Tell our Knights down there to get out the Eighth Ring now!"
"Eve?" Uriel asked. Detective Eve took no seconds to delay herself, running up to her computer.
"Alpha, Omega. Abort all your procedures and retreat back to Heaven. I repeat: cancel the whole operation!"
There was no response. Just simple static.
"Anyone, please respond!" Eve begged to her earset. And still nothing.
"Oh, no..." Zadkiel whispered, covering her mouth with sign of worry. Detective Eve could not believe it too. After all that happened...it turned out to be a ruse. And worst of all for her...
Aclima is in danger!
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The Plaza of Defiance.
The Pandemonium power outage sparked huge concern in the Capital Ring. Police sirens filled the streets, and a mild panic spread throughout the Capital Of Hell. At this point, it appears that the Inferno's capital is still unaware that exorcists have arrived. Omega will make their presence known by attacking the Parliament of Hell, causing the Capital to focus on them while Alpha flees.
Here, in the Plaza of Defiance, lies a "mushroom-looking" building: the Stygian Council. It's considered the "heart of the inferno," as this was the place where Lucifer proclaimed himself to be the enemy of God with the rest of the fallen angels. In a sense, the Stygian Council is a colossal gathering of demons in the Inferno who come together alongside many other demons of different hierarchical ranks such as dukes, princes, and monarchs of the Deadly Sins.
Based on what Heaven knows about the Council, it works very similarly to the Earth's own institutions: parliaments. It acts more as an office where the demons can debate with one another on what to do concerning matters that are occurring in Hell, the human world, and so forth. The whole exchange can be read as a parody of the democratic process, as the Demons decide in "civilized" manners.
As a result, Heaven considered sending a raid to the Stygian Council; this way, Alpha's escape will be easier, and Heaven will gain valuable information for future operations. And that's where Omega Squad of Exorcists comes in.
Both Grandmaster Aclima and her Omega Squad moved towards the entrance of the Stygian Council; thanks to the outage, it was easy to reach it without them being noticed by the Demons. Aclima came to a halt near the Council building's stairs, using cover to peer out her head and scan the area.
"No sign of Malebranches...exterior is clear, my Grandmaster." One of the exorcists addressed Aclima.
"Strange...unusual behavior for the Senatorial Guard." Aclima stated her thoughts.
"Could be inside or containing order as a result of our disruption." Aclima's second in command expressed his opinion. "Regardless, we have to breach in and take out any hostiles inside. By your orders, Grandmaster Aclima."
"Good, let us proceed."
"Yes, mam." The second in command nodded, gesturing for the rest to rush to the stairs. Once again, Omega Squad used the impressive stairs and reached towards the decorative entrance doors, which depicted the murals of the Seven Deadly Sins.
The Exorcists used the covers, with Exorcist Aclima taking out her pistol. On the count of three, one of the Squad members kicked the doors open, storming inside. They expected that Malebranches would be here...but no...they were absent. In fact, nobody was present at the entrance of the Stygian Council.
"All clear." One of the Exorcists addressed the squad. "It seems they are gone as well."
Aclima's eyes narrowed under her augmented sunglasses in suspicion. It was so out of character for Malebranches.
"Expect a possible ambush, Omega. Let us move forward for now."
"Aye-aye" They all nodded, following their Grandmaster deeper into the Stygian Council. Even deeper, they didn't come across any resistance. There was no demonic presence here.
Eventually, it led them towards the main hall: the Stygian Council Chamber. And just as Heaven's intel contained, it indeed looks like a Parliament chamber. The hall is rotunda shaped, with three thrones in the center: one was higher in height while the other two were in between it. There were four more thrones surrounding these three. Judging by their symbols, these thrones belong to the Seven Deadly Sins. In the style of the Roman Senate, there are many tribunes for the rest of the demons. They are arranged in a circular motion, always directly facing Lucifer's own throne in the Council Chamber.
Neither Aclima nor Omega Squad could waste their time sightseeing in the Chamber Hall. As a result, Omega Squad stormed into the chamber, inspecting everything for hostiles. And again, it's proven that no one was here. The Exorcists and the First Daughter of Humanity were the only souls here on the Stygian Council...weird.
"Mam, there is an archive room." One of the squad members pointed at one of the doors.
"Must be where they contain their important documents."
"Right, I will check them myself. Put some C4 here in the meantime; that will be enough for them to gain our attention. As for you, Captain. Cover my back while I check the archives."
"Yes, mam." The second in command nodded. The rest of the exorcists heard Aclima's command and immediately got up to set up charges on the walls.
Both Aclima and her Second In Command Exorcist carefully entered the archive room. As the First Daughter is known to be an emotionless individual...but here she could not help but slightly open her mouth in shock. The archive room contained cupboards with at least 200 or even more rows of deposit boxes. They are divided into three categories:
- First Age Of Inferno
- Second Age Of Inferno
- Third Age Of Inferno
And of course it's divided into sub-categories by the Demonic Calendar. Sadly, Aclima could not exactly take everything here. Heaven is more interested on what exactly the Inferno's plans were during their invasion of Limbo. Hence, she decided to check on specific date.
Second Age Of Inferno, 666-31 Evening Star
or rather
31 December, 1919
Aclima opened it and took a Demonic Papyrus with the Ars Goetic aesthetic. Based on what the Stygian Council does, it must be a "ratification" paper on which the laws, decisions, or legislation are written after they have been enacted. The lock was sealed by some kind of magical barrier. Aclima could not exactly crack it open here; hence, it's up to specialists in E.O.P to decrypt. Good for now, regardless. All that remains is to cause some collateral damage to the Stygian Council.
"Mother, I found something that Providence should look at in spare time."
*Static*
"Mother, are you in there?"
*Static*
"Great..." Aclima blandly murmured, just what she needed right now. "Captain, what's your status with E.O.P's link?"
"Missing as well...And I lost the communication link with my squadmates."
"Fine then..." Aclima put the papyrus in her satchel, pacing herself to the exit. "Let's not wast-"
Opening the doors, Aclima stopped herself when one of the Squad members, covered in blood with a cracked visor, collapsed forward. Aclima quickly pulled out her weapon, expecting the Malebranches to come out any second.
"Sabotage, what a classic way to solve problems. You Heavenly Cunts are getting sloppy every time!" A new voice came from somewhere.
"Show yourself, demon!" Aclima's second -in- command demanded, cocking her assault rifle.
*Loud Thump*
And another body of Omega's Squad Exorcists dropped from above. It was a clear sign that someone was playing a little game.
"Up there, you fuck-ups!" The voice again called out.
This time, there was what seemed to be the sound of a swarm of bats, followed by poof sounds. The Exorcist quickly directed her flashlight to where that sound came from. Turns out, a weird...creature with very humanoid features sat on Lucifer's throne with a non-correct pose. His legs rested on the arm chair while that man smoked a cigarrette...and held another Omega's Exorcist against his throat, begging in a cry of help for that man to spare him.
"Let him go!" Aclima demanded.
"Or what? Gonna cry to Mister Universe himself?!" The Pale Man mocked them back. "I'm sure you will handle some casualties. Nothing like some Angel pussy will fix the problem in no time, eh?"
"You heard her: release him now!" Aclima's second in command protested, ignoring the mocking tone of that Demon.
The Pale Man sighed in response. He would toss his cigarette before jumping out from Lucifer's throne, still gripping that Exorcist by his throat.
"All right, friend, if you say so..." The pale man said casually. Instead of releasing the Exorcist, he simply crashed his neck, splattering blood on the pale man's face before tossing the dead body towards them. "What's with the sad expression? You asked, and I obliged...should have specified whether you wanted him dead or alive, asswipe."
The Squad growled in response, aiming at his rifle, only for Aclima to show him to stand-down. The first daughter knew that demon is just provoking them to attack him.
"Enough with the games. What do you want?" Aclima went straightforward with her question.
The pale man would release a breath, he never changes.
"It always with you, huh? So faithful and so loyal...Tsk, tsk, tsk...must be what happens when a stone smashes against Abel’s face huh, Aclima!?"
"...What?" Aclima whispered in confusion.
"Ah, don't remember me, you old cunt?!" The Pale man smirked at Aclima, making few steps forward. He would remove his sunglasses, revealing his bloody, vampiric eyes. "The existence of Seth must have scooped the last pieces of your brains out if you don't remember your old brother, Aclima. Fratricide is quite common these days..."
Aclima blinked twice, three...hell six times at this point. She could not believe this...all that happened...after all that occurred. it's...
"C-Cain?!"
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave/The Basilica of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ/The Diabolical Conclave.
Just as Eve ordered, Jeanne searched around for any additional documents or papers that might be beneficial to Heaven. So far, Jeanne, with Aikaterine's help didn't found anything useful. Samurai Miu Ogawa sat on the floor, mediating. The Trio didn't exactly know why he was meditating as Miu never liked to talk about himself, preferring to be dutiful to Heaven's cause in silence.
The Exorcist Rönne "Deadeye" Schaffer starred at the body of Iblis, sitting on the floor and clutching his knees to his chest. Despite that he didn't have typical full face LCD mask, Aikaterine knew her roommate still feels dreaded. Hence she decided to leave Jeanne in her task for now and walk up to Rönne, squatting down.
"How are you feeling?" Aikaterine asked gently.
"Like when Drill-Sergeant Dornan caught me out of the uniform that one time, Aikaterine." Rönne responded with sarcasm before deciding to be just serious. "No, I feel like shit, Kate."
Aikaterine sighed before taking a seat on the cold floor, joining near Rönne. "Be honest with me. You only joined this operation for you to satiate your revenge."
"You weren't there when it happened, Kate." Rönne complained, holding himself to not shout at Aikaterine. "That fucker over here is responsible for the Limbo's destruction. He and Astaroth are the ones whose deaths I seek..."
"Rönne..." Aikaterine whispered, comforting him. "Tell me, what is going on with you? Why is Iblis of all Demons that you seek revenge on?"
Rönne sighed, he took a deep breath before deciding to answer.
"I was a Limbonian Sinner once, Kate." Rönne admitted, looking directly at her. "After my mother's death due to cancer, I went into comiting sins: bounty hunting, killing people for money...and in the end, my days as Bounty Hunter led me to have 18 shot wounds...and one fatal shot to my left eye." Rönne made a another sigh, glancing at the dead body of Iblis. "Hell was my final destination. My time here I found regret and sorrow for my actions in life...until I found Redemption from Exorcist Vera."
Exorcist again would return his glance at Aikaterine. "Here in Limbo, I found my purpose: to offer the redemption as I was offered by Vera....until...."
"Inferno's invasion?" Aikaterine said, albeit knowing the answer. Rönne would also confirm it with a nod.
"Yes...Vera died, who tried to evacuating Limbonian Sinners from Hell's armies. Most of the Exorcist Novice Squad I was in, died in battle while I was ordered to retreat back to Heaven. It was a gruesome day...and you know the rest, Kate. And this whole Annual Purges...I'm afraid of losing you, Mr. Hazbin and well...everyone that I know in our order. I witnessed so many deaths of my friends..."
Aikaterine at first was silent, even to her it was a very deep and hard question for her.
"As long as you aim your scope behind my back, I know that I will be safe with you, Rönne. We may introduced to each other in less...friendly way when Command paired us but I must admit, it was one Helluva service career with you. You're my Brother in Exorcism, a roommate and best friend that I ever had...and I would not trade it with anything else."
Sometimes, it's shame that Exorcists wear the masks. You could never really see what they fell inside these masks. Aikaterine could only guess what Rönne felt right now. He lowered his head, must be taking her words very deep before he would look at her.
"Kate, I-"
*Window Crash followed by screeching noise.*
All of the Exorcists, assumed their defensive stances and aimed their weapons at the source of noise. Near the window, there is a pile of dark...shadowy fog.
"What-what is that?!" Aikaterine expressed herself, aiming her shotgun at that thing.
The Pile of fog would manifest into a weird shadowy thing, it's appearance can be described as having the shape of a woman from the waist but with a serpent's body below. It's body was transparent, as if it was ghost.
"e̸͎̲̰̒ṙ̶̛͚̥̟̘̎͘͠ę̵̮͔̰͖͑̂͆ḩ̷̻͖̙̅͌̑̂ ̸̖̻͙̎̃̋͠͝s̶̢̥̲̒̋̎i̸̲̺̐̏̓̉̍ ̷̫̅̋ë̴̻̙͝ŗ̸̠̞͖͂u̵͙̗̥̹̘̔̇p̵̼̭̠̒́̍̔̆m̷̨̰̺͚̰͒̓̈́͆̿ì̴̢̻̻̀̑͝ " It made a sound, titling it's head and staring at Exorcist Deadeye. The Exorcists could not have a chance to respond when that thing in the flash, warped towards them.
"Look out!" Jeanne warned.
The Shadowy Entity sent both Aikaterine and Samurai Miu with Jeanne flying away with its strike. Rönne fired his revolver at that thing...all the bullets passed through that thing with ease.
The weird creature would smack Rönne's head, sending him to crash against the wall. The impact and that creature's attack managed to break Rönne's visor, leaving a slight hole where his left eye is.
The Entity would again focus on Rönne, The Deadeye's exposed left eye showed his fear in him before trying to grab his knife. But the entity was quick, gripping his neck and lifting him up.
The creature would tilt its head again, watching how Rönne struggled to make it let him go. His exposed eye showed the full fear in it, worrying for his life.
"̴̮̗̈̾̌g̴̱͉̻̤͌̏͛̚̚ń̴͈̹̹̗̤̈́̏ì̷͍̭̩̫̿t̵̨̹͍̝̭̋͐̔̂s̵̮̲̝̗̎́ú̷̱̖̠̭̜̂̓ǵ̵͕̲̰̫͙̃̕s̶̖̫̼̮͈̿ģ̴̞̀ͅí̵͕̦̖̠͘͜d̸̮̪̩̫͆̇.̷̨̜̠̤́̿͘͝ͅ.̵̼͑̎͘.̸̺̝̐ś̸̫̻͔̤n̵̜͓̦͙͗͌ȉ̷̢͈̮̤̹͆̾s̸͖͎͚̹͗̈́̍ ̷̪̔b̴͉͔̃̒̔̓̒ě̵̖͓̝͛̈́ḻ̶̙͚́͑̍̇̀b̵̫̅͑͝m̶̢̮̘͎͇̾̑̋u̷̖͒̍̅́r̴̛̮̦̗̰̐̅̈́͊c̴̯̀͘"̷̢̬̩̺̎̋̐̇̐ ̶̗̆͊̽ It made a weird sound.
Thankfully, Jeanne charged at that creature, swinging her sword to attract her attention. The Creature's head would make a 180-degree turn, screeching at Jeanne.
"Eat this, you sinful abomination!" Jeanne exclaimed as The Maid of Orleans then shoved the holy cross, powered by the Holy Spirit's blessing, at that creature.
The dark entity began to screech in pain, letting Rönne, who, with Aikaterine's help, safely retreated from the creature. The entity of darkness clutched its head in pain as a result of the Holy Spirit's power. It would poof into a fog, retreating back to where it came. Again, that creature came alive once again and made a sharp screech at them, now standing at the broken window.
That thing then ripped dark, foggy pieces from its body and tossed them to the floor before poofing away. The mini black fog would quickly crawl over and enter Iblis' body. The body of the Lord Regent began to spazz out and tremble. What happened next was even more terrifying.
Then Iblis's body rose to its feet, still shaking violently. it was enveloped in a black fog, consuming the body. The flesh quickly melted or burned, and the hands grew and became claws. In the end, nothing of Iblis' body remained, only a skeleton-like creature with black glowing eyes.
The Undead Iblis made a groaning noise before its eyes glared at the Exorcists and screeched at them. Behind the undead Iblis, a similar shadowy entity manifested, though looking younger and weaker than the previous.
"What the hell is going on!?" Rönne exclaimed, checking if his revolver had the bullets, and aimed it at that creature.
"Goddamn undead souls apparently exist here in Inferno. How oxymoronic..." Jeanne d'Arc commented with a grumble. Alpha Squad once again prepared their weapons for the next fight. A fight against the undead Husk of Devil's own army.
Is this what the Devil rewarded its loyal demons for?
Chapter 18: Echoes Of Oblivion
Summary:
“I will kill myself soon. But until then how do l tame my pain?” ― Sonali Deraniyagala, Wave
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
January 1, 2020, AD (23 hours before HH's Pilot), 00:31 AM.
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The Plaza of Defiance/The Stygian Council/Main Gathering Chamber
The First Murder...An Act that birthed the Sins.
Even today, the tragedy of Abel and Cain is well known. To some, Eve and Adam's treachery marked humanity's fall from grace to sin, but even that act was not its fall...but rather the act of their own sins was what caused Original Sin to finally be born.
As Cain bashed Abel's head with a rock, the blood of Abel cried out from the ground for justice and revenge. The cycle of vengeance and retaliation goes from hurt to murder to mass-murder, and eventually to the place where the entire earth is filled with violence: Modern Humanity.
And for his murder, Cain was banished by God to the Land of Nod, while Abel ascended into Heaven. It was the last time the Grandmaster of Exorcists saw her own brother.
Until now...
And yet, normally a sister would experience many emotions upon seeing their older brother...but Aclima wasn't a forgiving type. Behind her Exorcist visor, she stared at her brother with a cautious look, knowing that Cain's presence here is pretty self-explanatory: revenge.
Cain has changed a lot since she last saw him... and so has his humanity. Even the ugliness of Hell takes the reins from him. Eyes as red as the hellish skies. He has pale skin, like he hasn’t seen the light of day. His clothes looked like they were made of darkness. Even from first glance, Cain makes the average demon cower under his gaze, but not to the same extent as Satan or Lucifer. He’s walking death as if there was a scent to him.
And not to mention: a Vampire Lord.
Aclima knew a long time ago that God's punishment didn't end in Cain's exile or his immortality. He was later visited by three Archangels: Michael, Raphael, and Uriel, who offered for Cain to repent...to which he rebuffed them out of pride.
And with that:
Michael cursed Caine and his "offspring" to fear the silver material.
Raphael cursed Cain and his children to cling to darkness, drink only blood, and be frozen at the point of death, so all they touched would crumble into nothing.
Uriel cursed Cain and his children to fear the dawn, as the sun's rays would burn like fire.
And thus, Cain became the first vampire, with his offspring continuing his legacy through the ages. To some extent, vampires are the Devil's own version of humanity: corrupted, filled with Cain's darkness and desire for power, he became the first victim of the Devil's curse... and the product of a rape.
The First Murder walked back and forth as he stared at his sister. His lack of temper spoke for itself as he growled and grunted in an aggressive manner, waiting for his brother to act.
"Well fuck you too then. "It's so nice to see you again, sister." doesn't work anymore for you?!" Cain insulted back.
"Says the betrayer and Lord of Camarila. I won't take chances." Aclima warned back in a bland manner, keeping her emotions in check.
"Lord of the Camarila...bah." Cain snickered in a dark and cold tone, enjoying the irony. As he still walked back and forth, he then tried to reach for his pocket and -
"Don't move your hands, murderer!" The Second in command of the Exorcists warned, pointing his rifle at Grandmaster's brother.
Cain gave a "pathetic" look in response. He didn't give a shit about what that Exorcist just said, and instead he tried to-
"I said: don't-"
The Second in Command Exorcist abruptly stopped when Cain revealed that it turned out that he had just reached for a small Infernal coin from his pocket.
"Stop twisting your exorcised panties, pal." Cain mocked him once again, flipping his coin up and catching it in the air. "Tell your wife to give you a "head" or something."
Cain flipped the coin a few more times. It had to be his way of controlling his rage or something. But after a few walks back and forth while flipping his coin, he just abruptly stopped and clutched his coin, making a sigh.
"Actually, never mind, she won't be able to."
In a swift motion, Cain threw his coin at that Exorcist's visor with very unnatural speed and strength. The coin literally pierced the exorcist's visor...with the blood leaking out from the mask. After a few seconds of delay, the squad leader just dropped dead.
"Knight-Captain!" Aclima quickly paced at him, still aiming her gun at her brother. She crouched down and flipped Exorcist to see that the coin was pierced deep enough...there was no point already.
"Turns out coins can sometimes not be our life savings." Cain made a pun, snickering at that. Aclima actually raised her left eyebrow in response. "Oh, come on, sis! You have to be impressed. I welcome creative kills. Heh, I even know a guy who killed people with a simple pencil."
Aclima glanced again at the body, shaking her head in a growl before returning her gaze to her brother. The first murderer, in the meantime, would summon a case of cigarettes, take it, and light it up with his lighter.
"Do you smoke?" Cain offered his cigarette.
"No..." Aclima coldly responded.
"Weakling..." Cain chuckled, inhaling and exhaling his cigar. He'd take two more puffs before asking. "How's mother?"
"...Fine." Aclima started carefully due to Cain's asking in a cold manner. "Her heart will break again if she sees you for what you have become."
"Pff, broke a "heart"..." Cain repeated it in a mocking tone to himself. He made a few inhales and exhales before just throwing the cigar away, not bothering with it anymore. "And what about you, with all that fancy tech and weird symbols on you? Wouldn't that have broken her heart already, seeing you're Leader of this whole "Smiley killing" party?"
"You're cursed with my blood while I'm exacting God's righteousness. It's not the same."
"Bullshit! The way I see it, Heavencunts just decided to make an example of you. Turning the first daughter and our dad into leaders just speaks of Heaven's bitter behavior in Hell. Heaven is a fucking joke, and so is the entire existence of the human race. We were created for what? To be a less-than-perfect version of angels?! To be slaves of some Primordial Spirit?!" Cain ranted back, not amused with Aclima’s beliefs...he never changed.
"I serve in the name of God while you all serve the lord of Darkness here!!"
Cain again began to walk back and forth, his rage building up. "Wrong, sister: I serve no one. I don't give a shit about Inferno and Heaven's struggle. All I want is for the entire Heaven to burn and for the so-called "God" to fuck off."
"Big plans for a simple vampire lord like you, Cain." Aclima dared.
"Might be, but I have half of Inferno on my side. Uncle Lucifer is too busy with his "Status-Quo" bullshit. Rest assured, the King of Wrath himself is making our own progress without Lucifer's involvement. That's why he knew of your attempts to kill Iblis..."
" So, Lucifer didn't send you here..." Aclima whispered to herself, realizing that the King of Inferno was not the one behind it. "Then why are you here, Cain?"
"Oh, you know...decided to have a little family reunion. That's all."
"Fuck your jokes and fuck you too, Cain!" Aclima also got pissed, having had enough of Cain's jokes.
"And fuck you too, Aclima!" Cain snickered, waving his sister off. "Fine, have it your way. We knew from the start that you sought the death of Dis's Lord Regent. Azazel made sure that you would have succeeded in your endeavor."
"Why?"
"Heh, Isn't it obvious? I The Death of Iblis will serve as a good catalyst for things to come. As the time went by, Uncle Lucifer grew too soft and no longer cared to finish what he promised to his followers back in the day."
"And you think you can succeed in destroying us? Your afterlife is going against the masters of this Universe, Cain. Heaven is and will be the nexus of all that exists..."
"Oh, really? The fall of Limbo showed otherwise. Heaven's problem is that it's in a complete "Wait-and-See" mentality. While you were debating in Heaven, King Satan and his Legates reconquered Limbo with the help of Ars Goetia."
Aclima didn't answer to that...but felt shame for not realizing it earlier. It's clear that Heaven underestimates Inferno's ability to screw them over...if only the Archangels could hear Heaven's humanity more.
"So you can see that King Satan of Wrath still seeks to finish this long war." Cain continued, still walking back and forth. "And he is the one who will lead us to victory... and to my vengeance."
"You may have fallen, brother. But not even you could stoop so low to work with Satan." Aclima tried to reason, That Cain's last words sounded so inhumane that it made Aclima actually show concern from hearing this. Is this truly for the sake of some petty revenge?
Cain growled in response. In a second, he turned himself into a swarm of bats and flew closer to Aclima, before reappearing just in front of her face, making her back away in response.
"I don't work for him, you stupid fuck! I benefit from him! Once he has fulfilled his usefulness, I will kill him at a moment's notice. I'm not doing this for myself...but for our mother's sake too!!!" Cain barked back. He then makes a pause, as if thinking, before unexpectedly pushing Aclima away. "And maybe even for your sake If I feel like it, you fucking brainlet."
Aclima remained silent once more...better not to add fuel to her brother's fire. In the meantime, the first murderer moved away, conflicting with his emotions. He would close his eyes before putting his sunglasses back on.
"But enough of our past. Do you know why I'm here?"
"To kill me?" Aclima stated this in blunt fashion, still waiting for her brother to go first.
Cain actually laughed at that, expecting less of his sister's wisdom.
"Oh, you. Seems you didn't learn anything from the first time." Cain unbuttoned his suit and made it disappear into nothing. He's actually wearing black suspenders with a red, long-sleeved dress shirt tucked in. "And after I'm done with you, I will make sure that our cousin in Hell will finish the rest of your lackeys."
"You think she will succeed?" Aclima adjusted her stance for combat, unsheathing her sword.
"Heh, she has more balls than you ever had, dear sister." Cain began to move left, circling his target. "In my uncle's own words, she does not take shit from the other demons. And that's coming from someone who personally taught her martial arts."
Aclima didn't respond to that. Instead, she retracted her blade from her scabbard.
And with nothing left, they are ready to engage each other. A Fight of Two siblings of Genesis....between Human and Vampire.
Cain was the first to move, sprinting to his sister and raising his fist. Aclima quickly dodged his fist, not even counterattacking and remaining in a defensive posture. Cain smirked, seeing that there will be a challenge
"Show me a good time, Aclima! Like a good sibling bonding time!" Cain mocked her as he dashed back to attack Aclima.
"♪ Memories broken, the truth goes unspoken! ♪"
"♪ I've even forgotten my name! ♪"
Aclima deflected Cain's attacks, who swung her blade back at him. However, the first murderer easily avoided her attacks. He kicked Aclima right into stomach before punching his sister in the face, cracking the visor.
Aclima tried to ignore her pain as much as she could and concentrated on counter-attacking her brother's next punch. She managed to slice Cain's hand and enough for her brother to grunt, but the first murderer delivered an unnaturally powerful kick that threw Aclima against the wall. Cain didn't waste any time before warping forward and grabbing his sister by the throat.
"♪ I don't know the season or what is the reason! ♪"
"♪ I'm standing here holding my blade! ♪"
"Pathetic!" Cain again throws Aclima into the rows of seats reserved for members of the Stygian Council, causing the first Victim to collide with them. But Aclima rose to resume the fight.
Cain was about to attack when Aclima reached for her belt and threw a flashbang grenade, causing Cain to cover his eyes from the flash. Cain couldn't do anything when he received four slices to the chest, and at least two kicks. Aclima finished her combo by stabbing Cain in the heart. But, surprise, Cain grabbed Aclima by the throat again and lifted him up.
"Mark of Cain, bitch! Remember that!" Cain threw Aclima against the wall once more.
Aclima is unsure how much abuse she can take... But Grandmaster of Exorcists mustered all of her strength to rise...only to be met by another of Cain's fists. Aclima evaded the attack while Cain's fist pierced the wall due to his Vampire Lord powers. The first victim elbowed Cain's arm, causing Cain to grunt once more, before sweeping Cain onto his back.
Aclima was about to stomp on Cain when the first murderer rolled out of Aclima's attack. He quickly warped behind Aclima, with the first victim turning around in an instant. She couldn't react quickly enough when Cain punched her again, causing Aclima to lose her balance and fall to the first floor. Cain followed his sister, landing feet first on Aclima's stomach. He didn't stop there, throwing two more punches and stomping his boot into his sister's face.
When the first murderer realized Aclima had lost all of her strength to fight back, he simply stopped. He simply let go of her and walked away.
"Get up! I'm not done with you!" Cain demanded.
Aclima inhaled and exhaled, but she still attempted to stand. And Cain just smacked Aclima in the face again, knocking her to the ground near the corpse of Aclima's second in command. Cain smirked at the pitiful sight. Instead of simply finishing Aclima, he summoned his lighter and cigarette for their brief interlude, allowing his sister to catch her breath.
Aclima grunted in pain as she clutched his chest, getting up on her knees. He took a look at Omega Squad Leader's body and noticed a detonator on his belt. If Omega was able to place some charges, it would at least buy Aclima some time...otherwise...well...she can only hope that her soul death does not cause for their mom to weep very hard...
And speaking of Eve.
"Killing me again won't bring our mother any closer to you, Cain." Aclima grunted. She reached for her wrist-computer on her left arm, making some manipulations while Cain was not looking.
"How can you be so sure? Mom is just brainwashed by Heaven's propaganda. Aunt Lilith was the first to break it, and mom can do it, too." Cain remarked with a smug tone, inhaling his cigar.
"She may agree with some ideas, but she won't trade herself for Inferno's insanity."
"Insanity?! Is Freedom of the Soul insane to you?" Cain yelled. "You don't get it, do you?! Hell is built on the principles of freedom for everyone."
"What freedom, Cain? To murder whoever you want, to cause chaos for everyone? Is this really the freedom you and the rest of Inferno want!?" Aclima tried to buy some time as she worked on her computer to create a little distraction.
"As you all are up there, we are not bound by the stupid morals of "Be Good, Don't Sin!"
"It's never been about this: it's about human decency!"
"Then fuck that kind of human decency!" Carl returned with a snarl. When Cain turned around, Aclima quickly corrected her posture so that Cain did not believe she was making bait. "If I want to kill someone, I can and I will! If I want to cause chaos for someone, I will! If I want to bash your fucking face, sister! Then I definitely will!"
Cain was about to raise his fist when Aclima pushed a button on her computer and-...
"Aclima, what is going on?" Eve's voice sounded on his wrist computer. Cain just stopped when he heard that voice. Still, he could not believe what he had just heard.
"Mom, I'm fine. Cain is here as well." Aclima responded...faking her delightful tone.
"Really?! Cain, you there!?"
Cain still remained frozen, very slowly lowering his hand. "M-mother?! Is that-”
Taking advantage of the situation, Aclima leapt to her feet and used a shockwave ability to launch Cain into the air, crashing him against the wall. Cain didn't waste any time, punching the floor in anger and getting up, completely enraged by Aclima's stunt.
"WHAT THE FUCK, ACLIMA?!" Cain screamed.
Aclima turned off the playback; it turned out she had just edited Eve's previous conversations with her via their communication links.
"My present for you, dickhead!"
Cain didn't waste with banters this time and charged up to deliver a strike. He did however, sent a "curseball" in Aclima's direction, only for it to be deflected and knocked down to the ground by Aclima's sword.
Right as Aclima charging, she dodged Cain's next attack and managed to stab her sword into Cain's chest. For the first time ever, Cain felt a flash of pain in his eyes. She had finally managed to hit him where it hurt. She could see him wincing in pain, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
"♪ A desolate place (place) !♪"
"♪ Without any trace (trace) !♪"
"♪ It's only the cold wind I feel! !♪"
“Do you want more?” Aclima shot back, confident enough as she saw Cain was losing his focus.
“How cute." Cain smirked at that naivety. In a twisted turn of events, Cain would grip Aclima's hands and make her plunge the sword deeper into Cain's chest. "This is what I have to deal with after Abel's death: eternal immortality! I had to wander the Land of Nod, hearing of our parents's deaths and then witnessing the death of my children by the flood!"
"You murdered my little brother, you fucking asshole!" Aclima didn't bother with Cain's reasons, trying to rip the sword out.
"♪ It's me that I spite as I stand up and fight !♪"
"♪ The only thing I know for real! ♪"
"And I wild do it again, for good old time sakes!"
"♪ - There - ♪"
"♪ - Will - ♪"
"♪ - Be - ♪"
" ♪ ⛧ BLOOD (BLOOD) ⛧ ♪"
"♪ ⛧ SHED (SHED) ⛧ ♪"
Cain raised his fist once more, but Aclima ducked her head, ripped the sword out, and was about to swing it back. Cain managed to deflect her attack with his claws and sharp fingers.
"♪ ⛧ THE MAN IN THE MIRROR NODS HIS HEAD! ⛧ ♪"
Cain strikes back at Aclima with furious, fast punches.
"♪ ⛧ THE ONLY ONE (ONE) ⛧ ♪"
"♪ ⛧ LEFT (LEFT) ⛧ ♪"
Aclima dodges or deflects all of Cain's attacks.
"♪ ⛧ WILL RIDE UPON THE DRAGON'S BACK! ⛧ ♪"
"♪ ⛧ BECAUSE THE MOUNTAINS DON'T GIVE BACK WHAT THEY TAKE!⛧ ♪"
Cain began to charge up yet another attack. All of his resentment and anger was being channeled into his attack. It managed to threw Aclima to the ground when her sword collided against Cain's fist. The cold cement slammed into his back felt nothing to him, as Aclima was sweating behind her helmet.
"♪ ⛧ OH NO, THERE WILL BE ⛧ ♪"
"♪ ⛧ BLOOD (BLOOD) ⛧ ♪"
"♪ ⛧ SHED (SHED) ⛧ ♪"
"♪ ⛧ IT'S THE ONLY THING I'VE EVER KNOWN! ⛧ ♪"
“I told you, little princess,” Cain continued in a mocking tone. “You’re no match for me. You may land a few hits. But you’re going to have to do a lot more to take me out. And rest assured, once I'm done with you, I will do everything I can to bring you and your precious Heaven to a demise. So why don’t we start with you first, huh?!”
Grabbing the random stone on the ground, Cain would storm towards the lying Aclima to finish her once for all.
"♪ Losing my identity ♪"
"♪ Wondering, "Have I gone insane? ♪"
"♪ To find the truth in front of me I must climb this mountain range "♪
"Not today, asswipe!" Aclima revealed a detonator in her hand...and pushed a button. The charges planted by Omega Squad exploded, causing a large explosion and a shockwave. The cracks would grow large enough that chunks of the celling would fall to the floor. One of the marble chunks fell and crashed into the floor, both breaking the floor and revealing a very large broken pipe with a strong flow of Pandemonium's sewer water.
While Cain was busy keeping his balance as the ground shook, Aclima, quickly taking a random rock, would throw at Cain's face, making him cover his face when it struck him.
"♪ Looking downward from this deadly height and never realizing why I fight! ♪"
"Oh, you little bitch!" Cain cursed, not believing she pulled his own card against him...guess she learned one thing or two.
Aclima didn't waste time as she raised her sword. Cain could not react in time as the blade struck its neck, cutting it in half. The first murderer choked and held his neck apart as blood poured from it. Aclima had some hope that it would end here—obviously, it did not. Even though he is losing a lot of blood, Cain would proudly clap his hands for Aclima's efforts. The broken tissues on his neck would regenerate, fixing his neck.
"Nice fight, Aclima." Cain remarked as he turned away from Aclima and drew a pack of cigars from his pocket, taking a cigarette and lighting it. Aclima was still not sure what was happening...so she kept the sword in check.
"Why are you doing this, Cain?! Are you seriously still bitter about Abel's sacrifice offer?"
"Bitter...heh" Cain muttered to himself before looking back at his sister. "Abel always been a favorite boy in the family, Aclima. That "sky fucker" held him in high regard."
"So what?! All you and him asked was for a better fertilized crop that year."
"AND HE SHOULD HAD TAKEN MY SACRFICE ASWELL!" Cain barked back; clearly, it was still a hard topic for him. "You stupid fucks were so naive, relying on that asshole when HE was the one who expelled our parents from Paradise! He cursed us with mortality and death. And the fact that neither you nor our parents were upset about it is a disgrace!"
"Hating our Creator is not the answer, Cain! Yes, he banished us, but even then he watched over us. He gave us crops, animals, and plants to get by. He blessed Eve for her to have us!"
"That's what's been said, huh?! Well, whoopsie fucking do, Aclima. Because if mommy wasn't thirsty for some snake's dick, we wouldn't need that shit in the first place. I could have been running in Eden's paradise, not worrying if I would starve to death." Cain would then take a deep breath, exhausted by the whole thing. "This whole "Humanity" is a joke. Fucking Seth and his genes... rotten to the core and beyond."
"If you try to hurt Seth or Abel again, Cain. Mark my words I won't hesitate you to kill you immediately." Aclima warned, bringing Seth into this family's drama is too much.
"If you can do it in the first place." Cain smirked "It's best for you to run like hell from this place."
"And why?"
"Trust me...you don't want to know." Cain again grinned, being patient with Inferno's little surprise for them. But for now...Cain had his fun with her. "My best advice for you, run like hell back to your little Heaven."
"...you’re letting me go?!"
"Where is the fun with killing you right now?" Cain puffed the smoke, grinning like he won the poker game. "Go before I change my mind."
Still distrustful of Cain's intentions, The Grandmaster quickly reached for the hole on the floor
"Oh, and Aclima?" Cain called out.
"Yeah?"
"Don't get yourself killed...you're my prey to the end."
"Right..." Aclima didn't bother with pleasantries. "See you around, Vampire lord."
Aclima jumped down to the sewer waterfall, which would take her far away from the Stygian Council. Cain could have caught her, but he chose not to. He won't deny that Aclima duped him quite well. Cain will thus let his sister flee for the time being... and because he would rather find his sister on the streets of Pandemonium than swimming in demon feces... even vampires have standards.
Cain glared at the cracked hole on the floor before reaching for his hellphone. He dialed the necessary phone number and held it up to his ear, waiting for her to answer.
*Incoherent greeting*
"Yo, It's Cain."
*Incoherent angry complain*
"Yeah, well fuck you too, Uncle Serpent! How about I won't bring any of that Caina's wine you love anytime soon!?"
*Incoherent apology*
"Damm right, fang-brother. But listen, is Aunt Lilith available to speak right now?"
*Incoherent response*
"Really? A purge happens on Pride and she has time to fuck with Uncle Lucifer?!"
*Incoherent complain*
"Listen, I also want a tall mommy vampire with huge milkies, but guess what? Not everyone can have what they want!"
*Incoherent response*
"Morrigan doesn't count, she is a succubus.”
*Incoherent question*
"Wrong, vampires are not succuby! We are different species. Just because I had that freaky moment with Aunt Lilith doesn't mean we, the bloodsuckers, are related to cocksuckers!"
*Incoherent joke*
"That's mighty coming from a snake!"
*Incoherent complain*
"Boohoo, Serpent! Just shut your ahole for once and listen. When Lilith is done poking Uncle's exit, just simply inform her that Nephew Cain called and he wishes to meet with her in the Stygian Council after the purge."
*Incoherent response*
"Thanks, I wi-"
*Incoherent interrupt*
"Yes, I know that Doom Eternal comes out in March 2020. You think I won't miss that piece of Heaven's propaganda?!"
*Incoherent response*
"Wait, really?! They portrayed Heaven in a bad spotlight in the trailers? That's rather rare to hear..."
*Incoherent statement*
"Binding of Isaac doesn't count. But, yes, I agree with Darksiders, at least. These days they don't make video games about Hell as the good guys."
*Incoherent laugh*
"You know what would be funny even more? A game where you can date demons as a human. Knowing humanity's perversion, they probably would have loved that shit!"
*Incoherent question*
"Dating angels is boring; it's just a human with wings, nothing erotic about it."
*Incoherent response*
"Ah, biblically accurate angels...now we are talking!" Cain laughed at that, actually hoping to see someone come up with that idea in the future.
*Incoherent response*
"You wish. Anyway, I gotta go as I have to kill some Exorcunts here. See ya."
Cain ended the call and brought his phone back to his pocket. He returned his stare, staring at the cracked hole that led to the waterfall...and shook his head in disgust, still not believing his sister could pull off these tricks...
"First it was impersonating my mother's voice, and now she is swimming in the sewers. Grandmaster of The Exterminators, my ass." Cain muttered to himself. He made another pause before shrugging. The First Murderer walked up to the Dead Exorcist Leader and shoved his hand into the Exorcist's skull, ripping out the same coin.
"Thanks for holding it out, Exorcunt." Cain snickered, flipping the coin and catching it in the air. With nothing left, he summoned his black suit and put it on before pacing himself towards the exit.
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave/The Basilica of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ/The Diabolical Conclave.
Abomination.
That's pretty much what can be said about Iblis's undead corpse.
No words can describe how fucked up the situation is. Neither of Alpha's four exorcists had ever encountered this type of demon, and it seemed as if these creatures were more than just "demons."
"Jus die already!" Aikaterine screamed at that thing, firing her shotgun at Iblis's corpse. When the bullets hit Iblis's corpse, nothing happened to it. Even blessed swords and bullets could not stop that thing. That creature just shrugged them off as the Despoiled quickly turned around to Exorcist Scourge, pissed off.
*Inhumane Shriek* Iblis screeched at Aikaterine, running towards her.
"Oh fuck!" Aikaterine panicked, retreating back as she tried to reach for her shotgun shells.
But luckily for her, the Maid of Orleans quickly intercepted the despoiled Iblis and swung her sword at him. She actually managed to cut off his skeleton arm.
The creature let out a shrieking, painful scream. Aikaterine used the opportunity to retreat back to where Rönne was, who at this point had tried every tool he had to kill that creature: his revolver? No. His Rifle? No as well. Nothing from his equipment could even damage that creature.
But sadly, Jeanne's attempt was to no avail anyway, as some kind of shadowy fog flew to where the skeleton hand was lying, taking it with it and attaching it back to Iblis's despoiled.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" Jeanne cursed, just what she needed right now.
Screeching at Jeanne, the Despoiled Iblis swung his skeleton hand at her, enough power to send her crashing against the wall. The creature then decided to focus on Samurai Miu rather than finish off Jeanne... Either that was a lack of that entity's mind or it's just screwing them over.
Jeanne shook her head, groaning in pain. She was about to get up when she noticed something was off. Thanks to the torches in the conclave, she can see the corpse's own shadow. The jest is: It was not Iblis's, but someone else's.
It made even more sense as Jeanne knew the Sinners' ability to control their own shadows. Hence, by taking out her cross once again and getting up, she has the only option to end that creature once and for all.
"Hey, spawn of the Devil! Come here!" Jeanne called out.
The Despoiled Iblis turned once more, no longer bothering to deal with Samurai Miu. It would charge towards Jeanne, ready to swat the Maid of Orleans with its claws. Jeanne swerved to avoid the claws and rammed her cross into Iblis's skull. The cross brightened considerably as Despoiled Iblis screamed in agony while attempting to extract that thing.
"Samurai, Deadeye! Take it's hands!"
The two exorcists rushed over to Iblis and grabbed its hands, preventing it from doing anything to remove the cross. It jerked and screeched at them, but the two exorcists were strong enough not to let go. Meanwhile, Jeanne clutched her hands and called out to the Holy Spirit for help before beginning to chant.
O Jesu! life-spring of the soul!
The Father's power and glory bright!
Thee with the Angels we extol;
From thee they draw their life and light.
Jeanne approached Iblis's body slowly, chanting the old prayer. Jeanne's chanting brightened the cross on Iblis's forehead even more, causing that creature great pain.
Grant us, with Michael, still, O Lord,
Against the prince of pride to fight;
So may a crown be our reward,
Before the Lamb's pure throne of light.
"⛥ p̵̧̢̛̞͈͙̬̱̙̙̥̳̤̪̙̩̠̖̰̖͎̹̼̤̓̑͑̓̐̈́̾̓̀͌̏͌̔̇̈͗̄͒̐̓̃͑̊͆̋̈͋̍͋̔͗͘̕͜͜͠o̷̡̟̫̲̫͈̯͔̟̻͇̹̤͉̭̲̰̪̒̃̉̈́̕͘͜ͅţ̶̦̥̪̝͔̭̭͍͕̫̪̖̬͓̣͔̗̱̓̀͐̈́͐s̶̡̢̛̤̟͉̩͚̜̞̖̯͓̦̯̭̪̼͎̮̍̍̍͋́̓̑̓͐̉̆͋̌̈́̋́̀̇̐̊̇̔̑͋̈́̑̒͋̌͆͝ͅͅͅ ψ" The Despoiled Iblis finally said something...as if it begged Jeanne to stop.
To God the Father praise be done,
Who hath redeemed us through his Son;
Anoints us by the Holy Ghost,
And guards us by the Angel host.
The immense power of the Holy Spirit was enough at this point for the shadowy entity to try to crawl out from Iblis' skeleton body. That thing reached out its claw at Jeanne, doing everything it could to stop her. But the Maid of Orleans then raised her sword, ready to strike.
And now
Find your redemption in God's presence, Al-Shaitan!
Rest in Peace!
Amen!
Jeanne stabbed her sword into the shadowy body of the entity at the sound of Amen. The creature screamed in agony before poofing into oblivion. Iblis's body stopped glowing without its master, and his bones fell to the ground.
And there it was, the exorcists had defeated that creature with a literal exorcism ritual. No one spoke as Alpha Squad breathed in and out, regaining strength after a battle. Only Aikaterine would break it in order to ask Jeanne.
"Mind my curiosity, but where did you learn that, mam?"
"That's an old exorcism prayer, Scourge. Don't tell me you actually slept through your lectures." Jeanne showed annoyance in her tone...clearly someone is not completely prepared.
"Hey, ma'am, it was boring!" The Scourge shrugged before turning to face...what was left of Iblis. In fact, the four of them stared at the bones in complete silence.
"Jesus, I've never seen anything like this in my..post-life." Rönne remarked as he approached Iblis' skull to see what had become of the Lord Regent... not a single flesh remained in him.
"That's because they leave it rare outside of the Ninth Ring," Jeanne explained as she knelt beside Iblis' pile of his bones. "When I noticed that Iblis' shadow did not match his body. I realized we were dealing with a "despoiled" creature."
"Despoiled?" Aikaterine repeated in a puzzled tone before continuing, wanting to hear more. "What exactly is "despoiled"?"
"Nobody knows for sure. Some believe that they represent the ultimate state of all sinners in Hell, who will eventually become these things. Some consider them to be the Devil's version of souls." Jeanne explained as she exhaled and stood up. Rest assured, we had no idea what they were. We only know about them because of isolated incidents that occurred once during the decades of purges."
"And it's best if we don't encounter them here anymore." Samurai Miu added that they shouldn't squander their time here.
"Agreed. I will notify our Mother Eve in the meantime. Gear up and let us leave this nightmare church once and -"
*Door Slam, followed by inhumane screeching.*
"Oh, what now?!" Jeanne complained, turning to the noise.
Her response came when the door slammed open, letting in a swarm of despoiled demons, the majority of whom were undead members of City of Dis who had been killed by Exorcists earlier...but reborn and ready to serve their Master in Darkness. It appears that the entity that escaped earlier made a marvel of the corpses left behind as they pursued Iblis. They became aware of the exorcists immediately and began screaming and running towards them.
"Orders, ma’am?" Aikaterine asked, not sure if she had enough ammo for...all of them.
"Only one: Run!"
Alpha Squad has no time to ponder as they rush through another set of doors and away from the horde. Unafraid, the horde of despoiled pursued them, thirsty for the sins. Many doors were kicked open as Exorcists ran through the tight corridors, with no advantage to fly away, with pairs of despoiled demons joining the main chasing horde.
"Mother Eve! Come in! We're getting chased by despoiled souls!" Jeanne called out.
*Static*
Nothing, all communications are jammed or broken...They're probably on their own against the horde. In addition, the skeleton corpse of Great Prince Sitri shambled in front of them before he noticed them and screamed at them. However, during their escape, the exorcists kicked him to the ground. Rest assured, The Despoiled Sitri rose to its feet and led the horde after the exorcists.
"Oh, great! First we're being chased by a horde of undead souls! And now Phenex's boyfriend is not immune. This is really getting out of hand!" Rönne yelled, not bothering to fire back as their bullets don't do jack shit on fucking zombies.
"I know, right! I don't want to be Left 4 Dead!" Aikaterine responded, finding a time to joke...or rather try to fight the fear of being eaten alive by these creatures with her jokes. How come souls also experience the fears of mortal life?
"You two are not helping!" Jeanne complained.
They eventually made it to the main hall, only to find Astaroth's Legionnaires and Adramelech transformed into these monsters as well. They dashed towards the exit and tried unsuccessfully to kick the doors open. Aikaterine has the ability to blow the doors open, but it will take some time as the horde approaches. So, with no other option, they must stand their ground while Aikaterine works with her charges.
"Alright, circle formation, Squad!"
Alpha Squad formed a circle around the cross after Jeanne tossed it to the floor. The Horde swarmed in, only to be stopped by the Holy Spirit's powers, which prevented them from reaching Alpha Squad. As a result, they growled, screamed, and screeched at the exorcists, demonstrating that nothing from their previous lives remained. From the ground would emerge the same shadowy entity with a feminine body shape. It would simply stare at the exorcists in silence, as if it were a predator waiting to pounce on their victim.
"How much charge do we have on that cross?" When Rönne asked them all, his exposed eye in his cracked visor showed his fear...and not knowing what to do.
"Not enough to deal with them all." Jeanne responded with a defeated tone, she won't deny...it might be the end of them. If only the Devil hadn't stored another set of his plans for them.
*Strike of Trident Against the Floor.*
The horde...just became disturbingly silent. All of their inhumane behavior ceased to exist... and they just stared at the exorcists in silence. The Exorcists exchanged glances; no one knew what was going on... until they turned to hear the footsteps.
*Boot Stomp*
Silence.
*Boot Stomp*
Another silence.
The Despoiled Creatures moved away and created a path for someone to make their way to the exorcists. And it's turned out that...
Oh no...
It turned out that the despoiled creature paved the way for an elderly man. That man was dressed in an unbuttoned Gothic black waistcoat, a black vest, and a red undershirt, as well as a tie suit with a red upside-down cross on it. He held a Dark Trident...it was clear from the get-go who this man was exactly...
The Devil himself would slowly walk up to the feminine-looking shadowy entity. He scratched its chin in silence, leaving the exorcists truly horrified by the sight of...Dark Lord.
"It's...it's him." Rönne whispered in horror. He recognized the man in front of him right away—the same one from the catacombs.
"The Shogun of Sorrow... finally reveals his presence to us." Samurai Miu whispered back to Rönne, also recognizing that...thing.
"No...no-no-no! You must be mistaken, you two!" Jeanne repeated in disbelief, hoping they were both wrong... Ignorance, as they say, is bliss.
"Oh, I believe mistake has been made...but by who?" The Devil said to these four "heroes of the day," pausing to scratch the entity's chin before facing the Exorcists.
"Impossible, you're chained in the Ninth Ring!" Jeanne exclaimed back, fighting against the truth.
"That is why you fail. You presume the limits of my power." The Devil responded in a bland manner. He then just simply walked forward to where the cross lay on the floor and stomped on it with ease. "There are none..."
Alpha Squad immediately raised their weapons in the direction of the undead souls. Despite the fact that the cross was no longer present and that the Horde could freely rip the Exorcists apart, they remained silent, waiting for their master's command. The Devil, on the other hand, had other plans for the exorcists.
He instead circled around the Exorcists, his psychical form disappearing and reappearing when the Exorcists lost sight of them. After a few moments of silence, the Dark Lord would reappear in front of them, having realized Heaven's decision.
"Interesting, they sent a fanatic peasant woman," he expressed himself, as he glanced at Jeanne before switching to Samurai. "A warrior of a long-gone era and a liar." Then at Rönne. "A bounty hunter with a shackled heart..." And finally to Aikaterine, whom he warped himself to in front of her. "And you, a broken child of two hostile cultures."
"SHIT!" Aikaterine screamed in horror upon catching her eyes on him. Even despite the Dark Lord's presence, she still worked with the charges as quickly as she could, hoping that they would buy her time.
"You sound... disturbed," the Devil blandly spoke to her.
"Stay away, spawn of evil!" Aikaterine exclaimed in horror. She quickly scurried to join the rest of her group. The Devil just watched her in silence as she ran away before turning forward.
"You have nothing to fear..." The Dark Lord simply stated that such childish behavior in front of the Primordial Spirit was unnecessary.
"Then what do you want, Evil incarnate!? We're nothing but ordinary Exorcists! She herself saw no reason why the mighty being like the Devil himself would reappear in front of them," Jeanne exclaimed.
In response, the Devil's lower lip smiled a bit...barely enough to be considered a smile. He would then provide the answer to a being of creation.
"You must realize you don't belong here, Miss d'Arc. Ordinally, it would have been the end of interlopers... especially one of your...specialty."
The Dark Lord Of Hell, then turned around, bringing his hands behind his back as he glanced at the mural of himself, depicting him holding the entire Hell in his clutch. He always loved the naivety of demons in their beliefs. They cling to their ancestry quite well.
"However, these are extraordinary circumstances. It appears to be a...matter of debt."
"Debt?" Jeanne repeated it in confusion.
"Some mortals believe the fate of many is inflexible. I personally...disagree." The Devil once again turned around to face them. "You have done wonderfully by fulfilling a certain will...my will. Normally, I offer my...clients the illusion of free choice. But rather than offer you the illusion of that free choice, I will take the liberty of choosing it for you..."
"You won't tempt us, Spawn of Evil!" Jeanne barked back.
"I'm afraid you misunderstand the situation, Ms. d'Arc. Allow me to open your eyes more clearly."
By the Devil's word, A shadowy entity with a feminine body shape surrounded the exorcists with her fog in an instant. It's impossible to put into words what that thing is doing to them...as it's if it's invading their minds.
"Get out, get out of my head!" Rönne screamed in pain, clutching his armored head.
But despite their attempts to resist the foul sinister abilities of the Devil, One by one, the exorcists collapsed unconscious, with Jeanne being the last one to survive.
"Even if you consume our souls, our Lord Above and his Archangels will stop you... mark my words, Great Deceiver! You will be defeated!" Jeanne screamed at the Dark Lord,
The Devil simply walked up to Jeanne, staring silently at the French woman before she finally succumbed and dropped on the floor. He would then just add to Jeanne's words.
"I welcome them to try."
Lower Heaven/Empyrean City/The Eye of Providence's Headquarters.
What a disaster this whole ordeal is..
Once again, Heaven demonstrates how oblivious they are to their own afterlife. This was not even the first time it happened to them, which doesn't make anyone feel better about themselves. And now, Zadkiel felt that darkness and corruption in Alpha Squad’s Exorcist's minds. She was concerned about the mental health of those to whom she extended mercy, which made her feel even worse.
"What are we going to do, Uriel?!" Zadkiel inquired in a worried tone, having exhausted all possible options at this point...
"I'm thinking!" Uriel returned, as she was busy thinking while walking back and forth in the presence of Eve, who is still in contact with the rest of E.O.P's technicians if they could do anything to restore the communication in Pandemonium.
"We can't just leave them there!" Zadkiel continued with her begging.
"I know!" Uriel exclaimed, with an annoyed tone. Her sister's nagging doesn't really help right now.
"URIEL!" Zadkiel begged once more. It's clear the Light of God is not telling her.
"STOP WITH YOUR NAGGING, ALREADY!" Uriel finally snapped out at her younger sister, to the point that some of her eyes formed on her left arm.
Zadkiel covered her own mouth, ashamed that she had angered Uriel enough with her pleading. She didn't mean to, but...Zadkiel's emotions don't exactly always work in her favor, it's just... Zadkiel is always like this: a very emotional Archangel among her siblings... and the most "human" of them.
Uriel, on the other hand, felt even more disappointed at herself, that is. The Archangel of Light blamed herself for not overseeing the risks of Lucifer's deal with her and Jesus. And now... even the most powerful Archangel cannot stop the intervention of the Primordial Spirit in the plane of the Universe.
And worse, knowing that she could not do anything made her...furious. That angry frustration is something that she also doesn't understand about herself. Wrath, fury, and anger come with a set of reasons for someone to have negative emotions. For Uriel, it was either of these two reasons: is it because of the Devil's own scheme?...or because it was not the first time that the Evil Incarnate ruined everything...for her.
And with that thought, she can presume that's the reason why Archangel Samael sought her out in the first place: her own anger. As Samael became Satan: The Conqueror of 87 Imp Tribes and Annihilator of the Hellhound Horde, it's clear he sought a future Queen of Wrath...and Uriel would have been a great candidate...if she hadn't seen the flaws in Helel's and many rebel angels' beliefs back in the day.
Archangel Uriel glanced at her arm as the many eyes on it turned their gaze back to her. An ironic reminder of who she truly is. She quickly released a breath, composing her inner peace and allowing her psychical form to stabilize, making the many eyes disappear into nothing.
"My apologies, Zaddy. It's just I..." Uriel then makes a pause, finding it even more ironic that she would say that. "I really don't know what to do. This is something that we, as Archangels, can't exactly do anything about."
"But we don't need to give up that easily! We can stop the Devil if we believe in ourselves, Uriel. If it's my help that will convince you, then so shall it be." Zadkiel sincerely argued. She didn't believe in this whole "Primordial Spirit = equals impossible" belief.
"Even at the cost of you being corrupted or worse?" Uriel asked sincerely.
"Yes, Uriel. It is mercy, not justice or courage or even heroism, that alone can defeat evil." Zadkiel showed confidence.
Uriel chuckled in a weak and saddened tone. There was something that she liked about her sister. Zadkiel never gives up on anything. A truly a virtue that many angels, and even Uriel, do not have in them...
"Zaddy, I would have flown myself straight into Pandemonium if it was possible. But that would cost us a shaky peace before Total Judgement Day comes for Earth and Hell. Even then, without our father's or mother's powers, we're weak against the Devil's own mental games. There-"
*Coo-Coo*
In an instant, Uriel stopped herself and saw that there was a newcomer in Eve's office. It's none other than a pure white dove with a bright halo above its head, standing in the doorway.
"Holy Spirit!" Uriel exclaimed in delight, happy to see her father's little source of divine in flesh.
"Hey, how in the Heavens did he managed to ope-" Eve was about to ask when she was beaten off by another agent from E.O.P who peaked his head out.
"What's up, Agent Genesis. Have you seen my ID-Ca..." The Agent of E.O.P abruptly stopped himself when he noticed Holy Spirit, who was holding a reader card with its beak. The Divine Soul would turn its head around and titter at the Agent.
"Oh, I see... celestial business, I presume?" The agent awkwardly chuckled, to which the Holy Spirit somewhat nodded in agreement. "Alright, I won't bother you. Oh, and if you don't mind, my Lord. Could you return my ID card to me, please?"
The Holy Spirit, without any problem, just dropped the card on the agent's hand, with him thanking the Spirit very kindly before closing the door on his way. The White Dove then walked up to the Archangels, with that adorable smacking noise the Holy Spirit's perched feet emitted against the floor. Zadkiel could not help herself but cover her mouth to hide her smile...it's just too funny for her.
The Holy Spirit spread his wings before flying up to Uriel. She immediately extended her hand for Spirit to land, which he did. What followed was an awkward silence as Spirit stared at Archangel, as if waiting for them to speak.
"It...sounds like he already knows." Zadkiel commented.
The Holy Spirit makes a "bird nod" to that.
"Is it about the Devil, Spirit?" Uriel asked to be sure. The Spirit once again nods once more... twice. "So are you here for-"
Uriel then stopped before she realized something. "Zadkiel, you said that you feel their psyches, right?”
"Yes, it's my expertise." Zadkiel nodded with a smile.
Uriel then directed her gaze at the Holy Spirit, to which he again nodded at her. It's clear he reads her mind very well...and understands Uriel's idea. When Asherah and Yahweh "left" heaven, they created a spirit from their divinity. In a way, the Holy Spirit is their power in action or active force... but still an independent entity from them.
Through Mary, the Spirit conceived Jesus, and that resulted in erasing humanity's original sin after the Messiah's death. At this point, the Holy Spirit is pretty much a driving force of Heavenly Virtues and combats against the so-called "sin" entity from growing any stronger.
Some might forget, but the Holy Spirit is also known as the Comforter, who aids those in the midst of Spiritual Warfare. In times of duress, humans who turn to the Holy Ghost may sometimes be aided by a soothing voice similar to that of a loving parent, which can quiet even the deepest fears, hush the nagging worries of one's life, and comfort someone when they grieve. The Holy Spirit can fill one "with hope and perfect love" and "teach the peaceable things of the kingdom".
So now it all makes sense.
"Clever, Mom and Dad...very clever." Uriel sighed. She a took a second to make a sigh...and now it's time to act. "Zadkiel, I'm not going to lie. But this might be the most dangerous idea I have ever had. With the Holy Spirit's help, we might be able to rescue our exorcists from the Devil's mental torture if we intervene in his games. Through your psychic connection with them, Holy Spirit and I can amplify it enough to stop the Evil Incarnate...but I won't lie. Even with Spirit's help, we are going against the powers of the primordial being."
"I'm ready, sister...whatever the cost." Zadkiel said, with a serious tone. She knew the risks...but as an Archangel, it was her duty to do so...and that's what she herself really wanted.
Uriel nodded at that before gazing at Eve. Perhaps it would be best to also say goodbyes.
"Eve..." Uriel began, walking up closer. "I know I sometimes don't show my feelings...but...it's been great to know you from the start. You're like a little sister that I cherish, no matter what. If something happens to me and Zadkiel...well...please, remember us."
Eve didn't say a word to that, only staring at Uriel and Zadkiel in her own thoughts. But ultimately, she would respond to them.
"Don't say this stuff. I know you will come back. You always do. I saw what you're capable of and I can freely express myself in humanity's mannerism: you two are the most badass Archangels that I ever saw in my life."
Hearing this, Uriel blushed while Zadkiel smiled at it. The Mercy of God then nudged the Light of God to do it right away as Uriel requires some self-assurance. With the breath, Uriel would lean in and kiss Eve's cheek with a grateful smooch. It took the poor first woman of humanity by surprise, as she had not expected it...
"Thank you...for everything, Eve." Uriel whispered with a smile, leaning away.
"I..." Eve blushed madly at that. She could not find the words, so she ultimately just changed the subject. "J-Just promise me one thing: to kick his ass, Uriel...for me...and for Helel too."
"Normally, an Archangel should not kick someone's ass, Eve... but I won't lie: it will be difficult for me not to think about it." Uriel chuckled with that sass, glad that Eve decided to end that on a sweet note.
As everyone was ready, both Archangels sat on the floor. They crossed their legs before taking their hands in theirs and closing their eyes together. Eve can tell they're doing some kind of "mind link" together.
Between them, the Holy Spirit descended, closing his eyes and beginning to glow... Eve is unsure how it works... But, in some way, she is beginning to feel hopeful...
Jeanne with her Squad might be saved after all.
???/???/???
*Sound of Train's Horn*
"My head..." Rönne grunted. First it was...something that hurt his head, and now a dam train doesn't help his case. "For Christ's sake, since when -"
Rönne shut his mouth completely when he realized he was ON THE TRAIN, in one of the passenger railroad cars with many rows of passenger seats. He stood up, still looking around. According to his guess, this passenger car is quite old... like a vintage train from the 1910s and, based on the locomotive sounds, it must be a 4-4-2 model locomotive.
With that knowledge, Rönne found himself in a difficult situation. He dashed up to the spot to confirm his fears...and there was blood splattered on the floor. It was clear that this was the "fateful" moment in his life.
"H-how?!" Rönne whispered to himself in shock. He rushed to one of the windows. Nothing could be seen from the outside...only pitch black darkness. He tried to open it as well, but to no avail. Only the passenger car door was the sole option...which he ran up to to escape this nightmare.
He opened the door, expecting to be on another passenger car trail... but it wasn't there. Instead, by opening the door, the doorway showed him a very small farm estate...in the town called "Weimar", Colorado County, Texas in 1898 AD.
"How is it possible?" Rönne was perplexed as he slowly entered, still unable to believe what he saw. Yet, the door would shut itself with a loud thump and just disappear. "No way back...great."
He sighed, seems it's only going forward now. And so, the exorcist moved towards the small house, looking around...everything was so familiar to him. He remembered the cow field...that barn and...
Wait...
"That song..." Rönne murmured to himself as he heard someone singing. The singing became clearer as he got closer, with that lovely female voice. Rönne climbed up onto the porch of the small house and noticed....
"M-Mama?" Rönne stuttered at almost everything he said. And indeed, it was Rönne's own mother who was singing...or rather reading a poem. Confused, Rönne carefully walked up and tried to touch his mother's shoulder, only to find that his finger just passed through it like a ghost.
"Is-is this a dream?" Rönne asked himself. He tried to touch his mother once again before he noticed...himself...really himself. The present Rönne didn't see his younger self due to the small fence wall on the porch.
It turned out that his mother was reading a poem to a child, Rönne. The far younger Rönne, around five, sat next to his mother, listening to her poem while holding a cookie near his mouth, not eating it, just listening.
Present-day Rönne could not help but chuckle at that. He remembered that he liked his mother's home-baked cookies so much that every time she gave them to him, he worshipped the cookies like some kind of deity. Good food was so scarce for him in his youth...and he could not help himself.
♪ Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn.
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
Die Lorelei getan. ♪
Finishing the poem. Rönne's mother would close her book and looked at his own son. 1) "Hat es dir gefallen, mein kleines Häschen?"
2) "Ist... was ist mit ihm passiert?" Child Rönne asked, though present day Rönne could not help but hide his own mouth from embarrassment. From what Mom told him in his older days, he had a squeaky voice in his childhood days, something that his mother loved but Rönne's father hated...can't really argue with his father.
Rönne's mother chuckled in response. 3) "Ich werde die Worte deines Vaters benutzen. Er rammte ein Boot wegen eines Seemädchens."
4) "Aber Meerjungfrauen sind schön!" Child Rönne expressed himself, causing for present day Rönne to smirk at that.
"Wait till you see Archangels in your death, little Rönne..." Present Rönne sighed as he sat on porch, deciding to listen this conversation...he does not really recall what it’s all about.
5) "Das sind sie, Rönne. Aber es gibt verschiedene Arten von Meerjungfrauen auf der Welt. Einige sind gut, während andere dich mit schlechten Taten verführen. Lorelei war eine schlechte Nixe. Deshalb war dein Vater auch so wachsam, als er bei der Kaiserlichen Marine war. Sonst hätten ihn die Meerjungfrauen schon längst geschnappt." Rönne's mother expressed herself, before seeing that someone had arrived. 6) "Ah, sieh an, wer gerade angekommen ist."
Present Day Rönne looked behind to see someone unmounting horse and paced himself to the young Rönne and his mother. Present Day thought it was him, and it turned out he was correct. This person is none other than Friedrich Von Shaffer, ex-captain of a small battleship named SMS Erzengel from the Imperial German Navy...and Rönne's father no less.
Here, Friedrich is wearing his brown coat with only the high-top button fastened. For some reason, present-day Rönne finds it funny to see him like this. But from the pictures, his father was always depicted with him wearing his captain's uniform. Most of Rönne's memories of his dad sadly didn't stick with him... Heavens, it might be the first time he sees his father like this.
Friedrich paced himself towards his wife and son. He passionately kissed her and rubbed young Rönne's head. But his expression showed that he is worried.
7) "Was ist los, Schatz?" Rönne's mother asked.
8) "Ich habe einige Neuigkeiten, Charlotte." Friedrich sighed before explaining. 9) "Ich bekam ein Angebot von der United States Navy, die Schiffsbesatzung auszubilden. Die Bezahlung ist so gut, dass wir diese Dürre vielleicht überleben."
Charlotte Schaffer blinked twice, slightly opening her mouth in surprise. 10) "Was ist das für ein Schiff?"
"USS Maine." Friedrich responded in a simple manner.
"Worst decision of your life, father." present-day Rönne said weakly to himself. He actually remembered that day...his mother cried for hours when she read the news of the USS Maine sinking from a Spanish torpedo or something. Of course, Rönne was still young that day...and it would be only years later that he would learn that his father wouldn't come back.
11) "Bist du dir da sicher?" Charlotte Schaffer said it sincerely.
12) "Schatz, unsere Vorräte gehen zur Neige und wir können uns nichts mehr leisten. Entweder das oder wir verhungern. Ich will nicht, dass unsere kleine Rönne verhungert."
Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed, while Little Rönne watched his parents with an innocent expression.
13) "Solange du nicht in den Krieg ziehst, ist das für mich in Ordnung. Wann wirst du abreisen?"
14) "Jetzt sofort. Der Zug kommt in zwei Stunden und dann fahre ich nach Galveston, bevor mich ein Transportschiff nach Maine schickt."
Friedrich then leaned in and kissed his wife, grateful for agreeing with her... and a gesture of goodbye. He would take Rönne in his arms, lifting him up as the ex-captain hugged his son.
"Ironically, all my father wanted was to improve our family's financial situation...and it got him killed in the end..." Rönne said to himself, as he watched his father let go of him before leaving their farm estate, mounting his horse and waving his hand to his son and wife...for the final time in Rönne's memory.
He got up from his porch and watched as his mother and past-self were turning back to the house. When they opened it, it instead showed what seemed to be another portal into his set of memories.
"Hm, it seems wherever I am, this place wants to relieve my memories..." Rönne asked himself, thinking it through. "Guess I don't have any choices. Fine..be it that way."
Rönne would enter the portal, entering a new set of memory sequences. He is now in a busy street in the evening, with many carriages passing by with mundane business.
"Ah, Austin: Texas State." Present-day Rönne remarked to himself, now understanding why he had a new set of memories. "Yes, I recall. Our mom had to sell our farm estate after our father died, so we moved to Austin. This city has nothing in common with Weimar. People were different, the people were strange and mysterious to me...and I had to learn English just to communicate with someone."
"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, BRAT!"
Today's Rönne turned to the left to see the main character: himself. His past self failed to notice the approaching white man in a black tuxedo, clearly the owner of some oil company before they collided. If the commercial indicates that the current year of this memory is 1906, then the Past Rönne is now 14 years old. He's dressed in a typical white shirt with black pants and suspenders, as well as a typical flat cap from the time.
"Kids these days! God will judge you for your behavior!" The mild-aged man in a tuxedo screamed at him, raising and clutching his fist.
Young Rönne decided to flee with the crate in his hands, preferring not to respond to the big scary man. Clearly, something was going on around him, hence the present Rönne followed him as well. And it turned out that Young Rönne would point his future self in the right direction...
"Of course." Present Rönne muttered to himself. The young Rönne would arrive at the local gunsmith's store of firearms. It all makes sense now. He'd follow his past self into the store. Meanwhile, young Rönne would look around awkwardly, noticing that the owner was not present.
"Mr Gunderson?" Young Rönne called out, no one responded. "Mr. Gunderson, I made ze delivery just as you instructed."
Nobody said anything in return. He could be out of the store. Young Rönne would sigh as he walked past the vendor stall and into the backroom, where the spare weapons of that time were stored on racks. He set the wooden crate on the table while he waited for Mr. Gunderson to arrive...but Young Rönne, kept returning his gaze to the same crate...it clear to the present one what is happening with him.
"Heh, my origin was formed because of my curiosity. Fate is a very strange thing." Rönne remarked to himself as Young Rönne would come up to the wooden crate and open it. Present Rönne also looked up to see the wonder that was the Winchester Model 1873.
"Wow, zat is beautiful!" At the rifle, Young Rönne expressed himself. He would take the rifle in his hands, wanting to look closer at it.
"Baby first steps, kid." Present Rönne murmured to Young Rönne, smiling at his past self for what was about to happen next.
*Click*
"Huh?!" Young Rönne asked himself, shaking his rifle after he pulled the trigger. "Why is zis zing not firing? Weird, I saw ze ranchers do it all the time."
Young Rönne then made the dumbest decision of his life. He brought the rifle's barrel to his eye to see if the bullet was still there. You don't have to be a gun enthusiast to realize that checking if the gun is loaded like this is one of the worst mistakes you can make.
"DON'T POINT IT TO YOURSELF, BOAH!"
Young Rönne was startled and dropped the rifle. Behind... well, both of Rönne stood a middle-aged man in his forties, hands on his hips and a furious expression on his face.
That was Mr. Gunderson, the owner of a local gunshop on the outskirts of Austin. According to what Rönne remembered, Gunderson hired him as his "assistant" in response to Charlotte Shaffer's pleading for work for the young Rönne. In the present, Rönne believes he only did it because he liked Ms. Schaffer... or because he thought she was attractive... difficult to tell with that native Texan.
"An now yawl dropped it. How wonderful, uh yawl." Mr. Gunderson sighed...goddamn this boy.
"Mr. Gunderson, I zought you had left already." Young Rönne stuttered, not wanting to be slapped by him.
"Don't bay lahk uh yankee nub skull, boy. Ah wuz sortin' out thuh new shipment of rifles in thuh basement...before yawl decided to play with thuh toys." Mr. Gunderson then points with his thumb to the back of him. "Now come with me. Our client has arrived, fahwar thus rifle."
As per instructed, Young Rönne took the rifle he dropped and followed Mr. Gunderson to the main room of the gunsmith. There was a local policeman, standing near the vendor stall with his arms on the table, checking out the lever-action shotgun on the stall.
"Ah, Albert. What took you so long?" The policeman called out.
"That boy will bay uh dayuth uh may. Troublesome kid."
"He? Come on, Albert. He is a literal angel. I saw him helping out my colleague in catching a criminal. Aren't you, boy?"
"He just fell over my leg as I walked by, officer sir." Young Rönne innocently responded, causing Present Rönne to smirk at it.
"See? What did I tell you, Albert? Kids like him will have a bright future in law enforcement." Texan policemen chuckled, before going serious. "Now, do you have the order for the chief?"
Mr. Gunderson gestured for Rönne to hand over the rifle. He did so with the policeman taking it, smiling brightly at Rönne and patting his head.
"Here, for your troubles." The policeman gave Rönne 30 cents, a decent value at that time. He would then glance at Gunderson. "As for you, the State Law Department will send someone else with your payment."
"Again? Thus iz thuh sekunt tahm thus year."
"Sorry, but we have a local increase in crime after the dam's collapse. We suspect they might be ex-confederates. Heh, I'm surprised you didn't join them already, considering I heard you were insulting our president Theodore Roosevelt before."
"Bah, yawl maey bay laughin', but yawl Northerners wouldn't hav survived sicks months uh war hif our general, Stonewall Jackson, hadn't died." Gunderson complained, clearly angered by the policeman's remark.
"Ah, but we still won the war, didn't we? Because far down South, in the land of traitors, Union boys will win the battles, Albert. Carry on, citizen, and God bless the United States of Federal America!"
The police officer then laughed at Mr. Gunderson, feeling a joy for humiliating at the ex-Confederate Soldier, before leaving the gunsmith.
What followed was an very awkward minute of silence as Gunderson rubbed his forehead in annoyance. Young Rönne broke the unpleasant atmosphere after only a few moments of stillness.
"What's zat all about?" Asked Young Rönne, confused by this exchange.
"Fergit bout it." Mr. Gunderson waved him off, going to his cashier to take out some coins. "Hare, chur monthly pay."
The gun owner handed the cents to Young Rönne, who counted them. He froze when he saw the count.
"Zat is only 5 cents!" Rönne complained, looking disappointed at the coins. Even a gift from the policemen won't exactly help to cover up for a month.
"Yawl already received a good sum from the Yankees. Don't be greedy!" Mr. Gunderson complained, snoring in response. He then sighed at himself, not enjoying the look on Rönne's face. He walked up to the boy, kneeling down to meet his gaze.
"Listen kiddo, Ah lahk yawl. Yawl saym tuh bay uh good kid. But don't expect thet thayure will bay many generous paypul lahk thet Yankee. All uh us must survive in thus cruel, cruel warld. Fahwar chur own sake, thuh tahm will come fahwar yawl tuh use thuh rifle, an yawl must learn tuh not put thet barrel tuh chur head."
Mr. Gunderson then reached for his display stand to take out a much older Winchester rifle before giving it to Rönne. "Hare, tuhmorrow yawl will learn tuh bay uh true man, reddy tuh take thuh warld by himself."
"Really?...Zank you very much!"
"Yore welcome... gist don't piss may awf, again." Mr. Gunderson then snatched the rifle back from Rönne's hands, obviously he wouldn't allow him to keep that rifle for himself. "Go on, kid. Yore free fahwar tuhday."
Young Rönne nodded and walked away from the gunsmith. Hearing this conversation, the modern-day Rönne is unable to reach a conclusion. He can see that Mr. Gunderson was the sort of vendor who sought to get as much money as possible...but he is also the reason Rönne is now a Ranged Weaponry Teacher in the Knighthood of Exorcism and Harrowing. Who would have thought?
But regardless, the present Rönne followed his younger self to the streets of Austin in the early 1900s. Some of the buildings were still damaged as a result of the failed dam project, but that didn't bother him in the least. Young Rönne would arrive at a small pharmaceutical store, not that far away from where he and his mother lived. Present Day: Rönne remembers that event to this day... It was memorable, to say the least.
Young Rönne would come to the vendor stall, where the typical white American of that time with an impressive mustache was reading a medicinal book.
"Ah, you must be Ms. Schaffer's kid. Ryan, right?" The vendor responded, not caring to even look at him.
"It's Rönne actually."
"Ugh, typical Krauts and their names..." The vendor whispered to himself. After some grumbling, he would close the book before directing his gaze at the German-Texan. "So what brings you here, young man?"
"My mom's been sick. She has been coughing a lot recently...and once, she coughed out even blood from her mouth." Young Rönne responded. Hearing this, the present Rönne sighed... and so it began.
"Ah! in that case. Nothing but a little snake oil will heal her right up. 100% guarantee of success!"
"How much?"
"5 dollars."
"But zat's expensive!"
"Of course it's expensive. It's a miracle cure, kid. If I made it cheaper, I would have run out of them already, heh."
"But can't you lower it...for my mozer's sake?"
"Nope, sorry kid. I know a million moms out there that have the same problems as you, so it's beyond my control. Perhaps ask a priest or someone else. I don't do charity work."
"Wretched little fuck..." Present Rönne growled at that. "Not only is he making a profit from the people's suffering, but he is also selling fake medicine to them. I hope one of my colleagues gets your ass in Hell."
Young Rönne turned around and walked out of the shop, disappointed. The present Rönne continued to follow the young Rönne, assuming that the memory did not end here.
The past would enter the small house, which was indeed their home. Charlotte Schaffer was laying down the small pots, pouring water for them. Rönne's mother, later in life, worked as a gardener. Unfortunately, the pay was low, but it was something she enjoyed doing...and now in Heaven, she is the proud owner of a small flower shop.
"How was your day, sweetheart?" Charlotte inquired, her gaze fixed on her son. At this point, they both spoke mostly in English...as anti-German sentiment grew in the southern states as a result of the German Empire's ambitions at the time...
"Just dandy..." Young Rönne sighed. He laid the money he earned on the kitchen table while his mother walked to the stew to prepare his meal. "35 cents only this month, mama."
"It's alright...I will make up for it." Charlotte assured him sweetly, bringing a plate of simple soup and bread for her son. She would join him on another seat, watching how he ate with a smile. "And how is Mr. Gunderson treating you?"
"Same as always..." Rönne whispered, twirling the spoon. He would look up to see that her condition had worsened, black spots had formed around her eyes, and she was gently clutching her neck, trying to hold her cough. "And how are you feeling? I asked the local shop for tonics. It's very expensive, I'm afraid, mama."
Charlotte chuckled with a sad tone. She knew he deeply cared for her. "Rönne...I'm afraid some medicine won't work for me in this case..."
"But why?"
"Just don't bother, sweetheart. I'm will manage the sickness. It will pass by eventually."
"Well...okay, I guess." Past Rönne responded, confused by this answer.
"You should have told me here and right now you have lung cancer, mama." Present Day Rönne said to himself. Unfortunately, his mother didn't paint the full picture here. Even now, he has no idea why she did it...
He then noticed the exit was now glowing with what seemed to be another portal to set memories. And, as before, Rönne would enter it, now immersed in a new set of memories. Once again, he is now at Mr. Gunderson's gunsmith, but at a later date. Past Rönne is also present, keeping track of the number of weapons sold to customers in front of the cashier.
The present Rönne walked up to his past self. Here, Past Rönne is now 19 years old and a young adult. Heh, as strange as it sounds, his 19-year-old is a handsome man with a pencil mustache.
The bell would ring, with Past Rönne immediately looking up, greeting the prospective customer. However, the same police constable from previous memories is now obviously much older and has earned some promotion.
"Ah, morning, Officer Wallace." He had lost his native German accent by this point.
"Morning, lad. Where is your boss?"
"In the backroom. How is your new M1911 pistol, by the way? Any problems with usage?"
"Ah, the year is 1911...Make sense." Present, Rönne said to himself.
"Eh, not much of a fan of semi-automatic pistols. But the army adopted it so we, the police, must bear with the changes." The officer then sighed, now starting with the reason of their arrival. "I have come to bear some bad news. I'm afraid you will have to find a new job with someone else."
"...Why? What happened?" Past Rönne inquired, concerned.
"Laws, kiddo. Our local governor instituted the gun regulations just a week ago. We are reducing the number of local gunsmiths by 90% compared to the previous year. Unfortunately, yours was on the chopping block." The Office then makes a pause, before adding further. "In truth, I can speculate that they did it just to spite our African American folks."
"Why is that?"
"We had an increasing population of "Non-White" in Austin, mostly Mexicans and African-Americans...and because a "Negro with the revolver is like a monkey with the cannon" as I was told in the Police Department." Officer Wallace quoted the phrase, grumbling something about civil war under his house before returning his glance. "So that's that. But I'm sure you will find another job."
"Heh...If only," Past Rönne complained.
"I'm sorry?"
"Oh, nothing, officer. It's just that this job pays the bills. My mom is not feeling very well and can no longer work, so it's up to me. Plus, Mr. Gunderson actually offered me to inherit his shop here due to his health problems."
"Hm..." Officer Wallace nodded in understanding, showing his sympathy. He kept an awkward silence before carefully approaching Rönne. He looked back to make sure he was listening. "Tell me...how good are you with the gun?"
"Well, Mr. Gunderson personally trained me in my spare time, Officer Wallace. I guess okay..." Past Rönne returned, not sure why he was asking.
The officer chuckled at that but remained serious in his tone. "Why I'm asking is that, as it so happens with what is going on in Mexico, we had a dramatic increase in crime commitment in the territories of New Mexico and a little bit of Texas. Local sheriffs in counties or policemen can really handle it by themselves... that's why we are offering some...rewards for handling our problems."
"You mean...bounty hunting?"
Office Wallace nodded to that, glad that he understood. "Come by our station at 715 East 8th Street if you're interested. We need extra hands to uphold the law...especially in these uncertain times. Now go, Miss Schaffer is just outside, waiting for you."
The officer would pat Rönne's shoulder, gesturing to leave while he himself talked with Mr. Gunderson. The young man would take a sigh, adjust his belt with his own revolver, and leave the shop.
At this point, Austin is both urbanizing and bustling with street life. Henry Ford's newest invention: Ford Model T or rather "Tin Lizzie," replaced the old horse carriages most of the time. Though it became harder to breathe, the clear air...something that Charlotte Schaffer needed the most.
Charlotte stood near the entrance of the shop, brushing the horse that she and Rönne owned: a stallion named Adawolf. Even while she brushed him, she coughed a lot and tried as best as she could to not cough more...but lung cancer prevented her.
"Hey, mother." Past Rönne greeted him solemly."I'm sure you already heard from Officer Wallace."
Charlotte would stop and look at him with a sad look. She knew that he is very disappointed with the news. "Don't worry, my son. I will try to ask around and maybe I will be able to help you out with finding a new job. "
"Like you did with Mr. Gunderson, huh?" Rönne grumbled at her, showing that he didn't appreciate it.
"Rönne..." Charlotte begged in her tone.
"What, mom?! He treated me like a piece of dirt sometimes. At least I could have inherited his shop. And now I have wasted a year of my life."
"Don't say that. You're still young, and there are plenty of opportunities to find your purpose here in America. Ju-“
"Just what, mother? Sometimes, I feel this whole country is a joke. Segregation by your skin, hatred by your nationality. Is this really what North America really is?" He went on his rant, not loud enough for passers-by to hear. But Past Rönne would compose himself before answering. "Mom, forget about this place. Let's go back to Germany. We could inherit some of my father's assets... Hell, maybe I could even become a marine in the Navy."
Charlotte shook her head, seems they have to talk about it. "Once my time comes, you're entitled to do whatever you want, Rönne. Leave or stay here, that's up to you. But we need to talk about something."
Miss Schaffer gestured at the closest bench to them so that they could talk to each other. They did so and joined in on it. "Rönne, my little bear. I'm deeply sorry for lying to you for the past 4 years...but it's not a normal sickness. I'm afraid I have an Lung-Cancer."
"W-what!!?" Past Rönne exclaimed, thankfully the motor sounds from Form Models were suppressed enough to not be heard on the entire street. "For Christ Sake, Mom! Why didn't you tell me back then?!"
"Because you would have worked yourself to death, Rönne! The last thing I needed is for you to get worse both mentally and physically!"
"Of course, I would have. You're my mother!" When Past Rönne complained back, he still could not believe it.
Charlotte once again sighed. Now she had to provide some wisdom.
"Rönne, there is a time when we have to let go of someone and move on. My time here is running short and I have to make amends in front of my Lord..." She then makes an direct contact to her son's eyes. "All I want now is for you to be successful. I promise you: I will help you find a good job... then, after that. You're on your own."
Rönne sighed and returned his gaze to the location of the gunshop store. Both Officer Wallace and Mr. Gunderson are in what appears to be in a shouting match.
"There is something about it." Rönne began, making a pause as he was sure this was going to be controversial. "Officer Wallace offered some opportunity for me in terms of good payment."
"Law enforcement?" Charlotte Schaffer asked, slightly surprised. It sounded a hope in her tone.
"No...bounty hunting."
"Bounty hunting!?" Charlotte slightly exclaimed, coughing in between. "No, Rönne. I would have preferred it if you fought the crime with the laws like a real lawyer. But bounty hunting!? Even your father would not have not approved."
"We won't survive the next month, mom."
"I know, but becoming a killer it's not the solution. Please, give me some time, Rönne. Just trust me...please."
Rönne remained silent at first, thinking it through. Charlotte knew he needed some time to think it through. Best for him to leave him alone for now.
"I will have to leave for now, my dearest. I need to buy some groceries for tomorrow. Just trust me, please. I don't want you to kill for money. " Charlotte would lean in and kiss her son to cheek, before getting up and mounting Adawolf to return back to their house. Young Rönne remained here for now, staring at the floor, thinking it through.
"I know what you feel." present day Rönne sat on a bench, watching his younger self. "Our desperation caused us to act like this...and in the end, our paths have been sealed, my friend."
Past Rönne finally closed his eyes for a second, before getting up on his feet. At this point...the decision was made.
Officer Wallace was leaving the gunsmith store when Young Rönne walked up to him. "I forgot to ask you...how is the pay, Officer?"
In response, Officer Wallace smiled at him before gesturing to take a walk with him. Surprisingly, it was the end of this memory. He expected that a next set of memories would be shown...but instead...
"Amusing how fates play out in the end."
"Who said that?" Present Day Rönne asked, looking around.
"In here, friend."
Rönne looked behind him to see if he recognized himself. But this time, he was the age he was when he died in 1914. He is wearing the full set of a typical bounty hunter of that time. A white shirt and black vest combo was accompanied by a long black frock coat and a cowboy hat with a feather attached to it. The pants are tucked into the boots with spurs on them.
"How long it's been...nearly a century since I have been with you." Another Rönne spoke to the real one, stopping spinning his revolver and holstering it back in its holster.
"W-what...what are you?"
"I'm surprised you don't remember me... but mortals have a tendency to forget their "darkest" sides." Another Rönne smirked as he walked up to the present one.
"Darkest?" present Rönne repeated that to himself before it hit him. "Ah...so you're my sins."
"And you often thought of yourself as a stupid one, Rönne." Evil Rönne chuckled in delight. "But you're correct. I'm your manifestation of your sins. You and the rest of your friends in the Order fought against my mother and my newly born brother."
"So that thing was The Original Sin?"
"Yes, the day that Eve ate the apple is the day my mother was born." Evil Rönne then brought his hands together. "And my father, unhallowed by his name, is the one who gives you the opportunity to seek the truth...to understand yourself... more."
"Truth for what? The Devil does nothing but corrupt everything that he touches."
"Your understanding of "corruption" is limited, my dear Rönne. just because this universe is cruel, brutal, and evil. It's not the Devil's cause for all of this. It's because the kind that you represent...is rotten to the core."
"We were tempted to do evil by eating the apple."
"Not correct, you're simply given the "choice" to commit evil. When Archangel Helel introduced the concept of "free will," the moment you were given that...you began to lie, to murder, to destroy everything in your path."
The Sin Entity, disguised as Older Rönne, then turned around and flipped his fingers. The vicinity changed back into that passenger railroad card... only inside the postman railroad car.
"And you, my friend. Yours is not an exception... you lied to your dying mother and pursued yourself on that path."
"I had no choice. The pay was so good that it would have been insane to not take the job. Plus, both Martinez and Frank's companionship were something that I cherished in our group. Hell, even Edward's... despite the fact that he was a treacherous snake that put me down to the grave..."
"Indeed, at the expense of the mother's mortality..."
Here, Rönne lowered his head. Even today...it still feels painful. "All she wanted was for me to be safe...but knowing that I had become a bounty hunter...she lost all will to live...and succumbed to her sickness in my own arms...and it wasn't soon enough..."
"And it's not the only time that you've ruined someone's life. Allow me to remind you once again. "
With what the sin entity, said. A new set of memories resumed. The door to the railroad car was kicked open, with none other than Past Rönne storming inside, holding a revolver in his hands.
"We know you're in here, pal!" Past Rönne exclaimed, looking around for his target. "No one screws with Mr. Vox!"
Present Rönne couldn't help but feel ashamed...
"1914...just as the Great War started. Yeah, I remember this. We were employed by Harold Vox of V Industries, who was some kind of entrepreneur, pursuing the creation of his own version of "television." I never understood why he created his contract in the first place."
"Grudges survive a long time...even in death." The Sin Entity commented, watching in delight as what was about to happen happened.
Past Rönne still walked forward, kicking the boxes to check if his target was here. Ultimately, he got an answer. He felt as if someone had pressed a barrel against the back of his head.
"Don't move." Someone said weakly.
Past Rönne raised his hands in the air. But he felt that the hand shook in fear, which for Rönne was a perfect opportunity. Past Rönne quickly turned around and aimed his gun back at the man. Thanks to the lights, he could see the face of that person. Just as he thought...it was him.
"Darnell..." Present Rönne whispered to himself...even more he felt pain from seeing this.
"Look how the tables have turned." The Sin entity snickered in a devilish tone.
Darnell LeBlanc or Mr. Hazbin as he was known to his clients, was in his 50's, wearing his typical black tuxedo with a red vest underneath, elegant red pants with a red neckerchief, and stylish shoes with a pair of white gloves and a crimson top hat.
"Too slow, grandpa!" Past Rönne mocked him.
Darnell LeBlanc didn't respond, but it's clear that he didn't hold a gun for such a long time, hence he shook in fear.
"I-I don't want any trouble, young lad." Mr. Hazbin finally said something.
"And looks like it has arrived at your doorsteps." Past Rönne returned it, removing the safety mechanism on his revolver, showing that he wouldn't hesitate. "Now give up what you stole from Mr. Vox."
Mr. Hazbin looked at the small barrel to the left. His expression showed worry before responding. "I'm sorry...but I cannot. I won't allow them to take him."
"Who's he ?"
"Mr. Vox didn't tell you?"
"Not in the ability to question my employer, I'm afraid."
At the same time, another bounty hunter named Henry would enter the railroad car. Unlike Rönne, he didn't aim his gun at Mr. Hazbin. He simply relaxed against the doorway, grinning at this sight.
"Two to one, French-frog. You're done!" Henry called out.
Mr. Hazbin, knowing that he would not win this...decided just to reach for their hearts...so to speak. "Look, I know why Mr. Vox sent you here. Please hear me out."
"Do we look like we give a shit? We come here to do the job, not listen to your sob story."
"Calm down, H." Rönne responded before addressing Mr. Hazbin. "Alright, I will listen...Continue."
Darnell gave a thankful nod to him before responding. "I have a wife who...has a history with Mr. Vox. It all dates back to when Mr. Vox's father owned slave plantations, including her parents. Rest assured, Nädege ruined that business of theirs so that they had to rebrand. And Mr. Harold Vox wants to take something..."dear to heart" just as she did in the past for him."
"You're expecting us to believe this crap?!" Henry snapped out, unholstering his own revolver at Mr. Hazbin.
"Will you stop for once, Henry?!"
"He is bluffing for us to let him go. Don't be stupid, cowpoke!"
"I will put a bullet right between your eyes if you don't shut up already!" Past Rönne yelled again, before questioning Mr. Hazbin once more. "And by "dear to heart"... what do you mean?"
"Something that is worth living for, dear boy." Mr. Hazbin shook his head, showing with his own worried expression what he meant.
"Shit..." Past Rönne whispered to himself, now realizing what Mr. Hazbin meant by it. In a very awkward silence, he'd eventually lower his revolver, thinking it over...
"Eh, Fuck this!"
*Blam*
Present Day Rönne closed his eyes the moment he heard the gunshot. He didn't want to relive this once again...
"You know that I'm not responsible for Mr. Hazbin's death!" Present Day Rönne called out, holding his tears off.
"Oh, but you're, my dear Rönne. You made Nädege a widow...and you paved the path for their son that he was destined to commit."
"Liar!"
"Ask yourself then. How many lives have you taken as a bounty hunter? How many lives have you taken as an exorcist? And you find your answer in a thousand. You're a killer, Rönne... simple as that."
And once again, Rönne searched for the words, but...he could not find them. Whether he liked it or not...you can't escape from the truth.
"I'm a monster?" The German Exorcist said to himself, loud enough that his sins heard it too.
"In front of the Devil's eyes, you're a monster, Rönne. But you have the chance to rehabilitate yourself. The Devil grants you the opportunity to find it..."
"How?"
"You know it already..." The sin entity points to its own head. "There is not such a thing as " redemption " for mortals like you, Rönne. All that remains...is to end it once and for all."
Rönne looked back at his holster and grabbed his revolver from it, checking if it was loaded.
"You know you have to...how many lives will suffer by your hand before you will be put down...."
"...What will happen to me?"
"You will cease to exist, just as I will. But you won't be suffering anymore...and my purpose will be finished."
Inhaling and exhaling, Rönne checked if the gun was loaded and brought it to his head. And with the final breath, Rönne pulled off the safety mechanism and -
Stop!
In an instant, Rönne felt something yank his hand up, causing him to misfire it. It turns out that some kind of ball of pure white energy started to circle around his hand when he tried to end himself. This light would then be reformed into.
"Zadkiel?!" Rönne exclaimed, in surprise.
"You again!?" The Sin Entity growled at that sight. And indeed, the Lady of Mercy is here, in her typical "angel" form. Despite the fact that she glowed unusually brightly in here.
"Don't listen to your sins, Rönne. You found your redemption by fixing your mistakes. You built a healthy friendship with Darnell. You endanger yourself for the entirety of Heaven. The past doesn't define who you are."
"No, you're rotten, Rönne! You won't escape from your past no matter what!"
"Suicide is not the answer. He tries to bait you into destroying yourself. Just as his master wants."
"And she wants you to continue your suffering. Soon she will demand you to lick her feet in God's name."
"W-w- What?! I won't go so low as to demand something from the mortals. I'm helping them because I WANT them too!"
"No! You're nothing but God's puppet. He is spilling these lies to your-"
"Enough!"
This time it was Rönne who broke this "Light Side vs Dark Side" fight. He breathed in before responding. "Before I make a decision. I have a question for you, dear "Rönne". What are the Devil's Goals for Humanity?"
The Sin Entity glanced at Zadkiel in annoyance before responding. "He wants to liberate you from this suffering of existence…”
"And if humans choose to live in that pain?" Rönne purposely asked that question. "What about them?"
"Then my master has no choice but to put them down as well..."
Rönne tsked at that, seeing the hypocrisy. "I may be rotten, a literal definition of a piece of shit. But I at least acknowledge that. But you, my dear Rönne, don't even care if it's innocent or not. You will leech on anyone's darkest fears just to make them destroy themselves. That's what the Devil wants from us: the end of all living."
The Sin Entity remained silent at that. Clearly, he was losing this ground. "Just kill yourself already, Rönne. Your soul does not have any value in this rotten universe."
"Then start with yourself."
In an instant, Rönne fired his revolver at his sins, startling Zadkiel with the loud noise. The Sin Entity clutched his chest, falling on his knees as he felt he was being...purified by none other than the Holy Spirit. But much to Rönne's surprise, his sins were just laughed at.
"Ironic, my death will be the same as yours was. One shot to the chest, four around the body...and finally to the eye.”
Angered by it, Rönne again fired at his sins, hitting a leg, a hip, a thigh, and a shoulder. The sins would fall to the ground, before Rönne would finally end it with a control shot to the right eye.
"Rot in hell." Rönne cursed his sins as the body just vaporized into nothingness. He would take a minute to breathe, composing after that kind of experience, before turning around to Zadkiel. The Angel of Mercy actually watched with a genuine smile.
"What? Something wrong, my lady?" Rönne shrugged at her, not sure why she was smiling.
Zadkiel only responded by rushing and embracing The Exorcist in a tight hug. The poor German Knight of Exorcism was startled by this...intimate moment. Their hug lasted for an awkward minute before Zadkiel looked at him directly.
"My Knight in Shining Armor." The time I spent with you has shown its results. You managed to defeat the dormant sins in you." Zadkiel expressed delight.
"Dormant? You mean he-" He gestured at where the body disappeared, not finding the proper words.
"Yes, that thing was the remaining sins left in you. Even in Heaven, some Winners have their deepest and darkest sides lying dormant."
"The Devil's influence is clearly underestimated." Rönne whispered to himself.
"That's why he created this psychic prison for all of you...for your sins to be awakened and consume your mind."
"Prison?" Rönne repeated, still not understanding. "Wait... where in the Heavens are we right now?"
"In your mind, actually," Zadkiel said, in a simple manner.
"What?!" Rönne exclaimed, finding no proper words. "Wa-wa-wait then how did you -"
"Thanks to my link, Rönne." Zadkiel interrupted him, explaining further. "Your soul is in Pandemonium while your soul's consciousness is locked by the Devil. With the help of the Holy Spirit and Uriel, I managed to empower our abilities to intervene in the Devil's own torture games with our minds."
"And where is Uriel?"
"Around you, love." Uriel's voice was emitted all around the vicinity. Rönne actually looked around to find her with no avail, so he looked at Zadkiel for an answer.
"I'm just projecting myself in front of you just for your own comfort. It makes it a little bit hard for me, but I will handle it...nothing we Archangels could handle before." Zadkiel responded with a bright smile, knowing he liked that she appeared in this form.
"Yeah, great... Remind me to not piss you off, My Archangel." Rönne responded with uneasiness: It is always with the Archangels.
Zadkiel chuckled wholeheartedly at this in response, not forgetting that there was still work to be done. "We should not delay ourselves. Jeanne, Miu and Aikaterine are still trapped by their own guilt. Let's proceed and save them as well."
"Yes, ma'am." Rönne nodded.
With a blink of the eye, another "what seems to be" portal appeared for them. Together with Zadkiel, they proceeded towards where Zadkiel would stop in front of it.
"When you enter the portal, I will amplify your consciousness to be...well...compatible with our exorcist's own mind."
"So I'm essentially invading their dreams with you?"
"That's one way to put it, but yes, you're correct." Zadkiel nodded, before gesturing at the portal. "After you."
With a nod, Rönne was about to enter when he stopped when Zadkiel once again called out.
"Ah, I forgot something. Before you go, Rönne. I have a quick question. When that sin entity mentioned you licking my feet, what did he mean by it?"
"Oh, no..." Uriel's voice was emitted somewhere.
Rönne awkwardly cleared his throat. Zadkiel really put him in an awkward position. "Well...licking your feet is like an act of humiliation...he probably meant that you would have dominated me for your own reasons."
"Reasons? What specific reasons?"
"I dunno... superiority complex... maybe even in a pleasing way?" Rönne tried her best, but Zadkiel still raised her eyebrow in confusion. "Like..some humans find it pleasing when some lick their feet...it makes them happy, I guess."
"Happy?" Zadkiel repeated before it hit her. "Oh, I get it! It makes them overjoyed when someone licks their feet! That's very clever! I should add it to my rehabilitation program!”
"Zadkiel!" Uriel's voice emitted that strong sisterhood objection tone.
"What, Uriel?! I must understand humanity's lexicon in order to help them." Zadkiel returned, looking around her.
"You and I will have to talk after this. Now go, you two!" Uriel commanded, causing Zadkiel to cross her arms in protest.
"Well...you heard my sister." Zadkiel released a breath, not amused by her sister's meddling. But with nothing else to say, Rönne stepped forward, sending him to another memory dream.
Japan/Tokugawa Shogunate/Hizen Province (Modern Day Minamishimabara, Nagasaki)/Hara Castle [1638 AD]
The air around the old castle was littered with smoke, blood, and death as the forces of the Tokugawa Shogunate made their final push against the rebel peasant forces. Using the gunpowder and cannon provided by the Dutch, they turned the long tide of this siege.
Miu Ogawa watched the battle from the castle....rather the present day Miu Ogawa, that is. He heard the footsteps getting louder while his past waited for them. In an instant, a pair of Shogunate samurai stormed in, with their katanas already unsheathed.
15) "惨めな裏切り者め!" One Samurai is accused of rushing and raising his katana.
Past Miu Ogawa quickly dodged and sliced the Shogunate Samurai's back with his own Katana, but the other two quickly surrounded him. They attacked Miu at the same time, managed to slice his leg, making him fall....it was the end of him.
Present Miu Ogawa simply turned around and walked to the little balcony. He leaned and relaxed against the rails, watching how the castle was being consumed by the fire. He obviously knew that he would be beheaded and that his head would be displayed in Nagasaki for Tokugawa Lemitsu's own amusement.
"Now, those who accompany me in being besieged in this castle, will be my friends unto the next world." A sin entity, disguised as a Dark Samurai, expressed delight in watching how the Shogunate men dragged the wounded Miu out. "In truth, you assigned them a death warrant by going against your own shogun..."
Miu Ogawa simply didn't answer that...always been so calm and silent most of the time.
"Admit it, my old friend." The Sin Entity comes closer to Miu. "You just wanted to create your own Shogunate...where Christianity was the dominant religion in Japan...at the expense of Shintoism."
"Cease your torment at once, spawn of Evil!"
The Sin Entity quickly turned around, witnessing both the Archangel of Mercy and the Exorcist Rönne's presence.
"You're not supposed to be here!" The sin entity complained.
"Rönne-San?" Miu Ogawa turned as well. He was confused by the sudden appearance of his brother in the exorcism.
"Don't listen to that thing, Miu. It uses your darkest fears to make you succumb to the darkness."
"I'm just stating facts, you wretched Purist. In fact, your friend over here doesn't even tell the full story...isn't it right, Miu...or should I say...?"
Amakusa Shiro.
Miu Ogawa lowered his head in shame, a few steps away from the Sin Entity.
"Oh yes, your so-called friend hid his true identity from you...so much for that kinship and brotherhood. Eh, humans. You're the definition of -"
Much to Sin's dismay, "Miu Ogawa" gripped his katana and, in a swift motion, sliced off the sin entity's head with ease, making the rest of his body collapse and poof into nothing. After a few seconds, he glanced at the outside before sighing...best just to let it be known.
"My real name is Amakusa Shirō: leader of the Shimabara Rebellion." Miu explained, sheathing his katana back, "I changed my Christian name from Geronimo, to Francisco...and now to Miu."
"Why didn't you tell us before?" Rönne asked.
"I wanted to bury that past...to have a new clean slate in Heaven. He wasn't lying when he told me that I wanted the Shogunate for myself... In truth, this was my primary goal."
"Hunger for power?" Rönne presumed.
"Yes...but also because the new Tokugawa domain banned Christianity in Japan at that time, Rönne-san...but I think if I had succeeded in somehow overthrowing it, it would have become the opposite regardless: Christianity as the state religion...Shinto as the banned one. Many of us fail to be benevolent leaders...even with that, they eventually become tyrants themselves."
"Forcing someone's belief is not what Heaven really wants...it only leads into the road of destruction, hatred, and oppression, just as we talked about it before, Miu. " Zadkiel explained.
"I understand, Tennyo Zadkiel." Miu nodded, making a little noise. "We should not waste our time. Jeanne and Aikaterine need our help."
"My Lady?" Rönne asked. Zadkiel nodded and made another portal for them.
With no time delay, both Miu and Rönne would rush up to rescue their other teammates.
Balkans/The Ottoman Empire/City Of Thessaloniki (Occupied by Greek Army) [1912 AD]
The Great City of Thessaloniki, named after Alexander the Great's sister, was the prime jewel of the Aegean Sea. It was the historical major city of the Byzantine Empire, often considered to be a co-capital. The city was ethnically diverse and cosmopolitan at that time, something that under the Ottoman Empire's rule prospered...
Until now.
The Balkan League, led by the Kingdoms of Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece, and Montenegro, joined together and declared war against the Ottoman Empire. Even in one month, the Turkish Empire completely lost control of the situation in the Balkans. The City of Thessaloniki was one prime example.
Occupied by the Greek Army, Constantine, the heir to the Greek throne, with his General Staff and the 1st Division, entered the city in triumph. This triumph was followed by the abolition of the symbols of Ottoman domination (starting with the fez), the reopening of the churches, the regroupment of antiquities, and, of course...
Ethnic Cleansing.
On the outskirts of Thessaloniki, the new Greek administration targeted every Muslim out there. Aikaterine was no exception. Her father tried to resist the "voluntary departure." The same with her. But Greece's Liberation Army answered by killing them off and burning their house down. Present Day Aikaterine witnessed all of this once again...and now she is crying and sobbing, laying her head against her father's dead body. Her past's dead body lay near her father as well.
"So much of that diversity." The Sin Entity, under the guise of Aikaterine's form, watched in delight at the suffering that her..."host" experienced. "Oh, my dear Aikaterine, how unfortunate that you had to be born like this."
"JUST SHUT UP, ALREADY!" Aikaterine screamed back at her sins, tired of sin's constant bullshit. Her Sins could only laugh and shake her head, as they had so much ground to cover.
But Zadkiel and the two exorcists had to ruin it, revealing their presence to them. Aikaterine's sins only raised her eyebrow from seeing them.
"You're not supposed to be here, interlopers."
"Well, we do now, huh?" Rönne returned, not bothering to talk about that thing anymore. He simply fired his revolver at that thing, making it scream in pain before dropping dead and disappearing into nothingness.
"Huh, that was easy." Zadkiel had to point it out, which Samurai Miu nodded at as well.
Rönne walked up to crying Aikaterine. He glanced at Aikaterine's mortal body. Her body has been shot multiple times, with the control shot landing on her head... it appears she and Rönne died in the same way...
"I know what you feel...I lost my own mother due to sickness." Rönne whispered, crouching near Aikaterine.
Aikaterine still wept a bit, but she raised her head to look at him. In the meantime, Zadkiel helped Aikaterine get up on her feet.
"You know what the most fucked up thing in all of this?" She asked him, wiping her tears off. Rönne shook his head. "They don't even care if one of your families was Christian at that time. My mother was an Orthodox Greek, and they killed her on the spot. I can tell you that they only killed us because we were Turkish or my mother married to a Turkish person."
"It seems they have held that grudge since 1453, Aikaterine. None of the nationalities wants to be ruled by another one."
"So what? The Byzantine Empire's time came and it collapsed, as did the rest of the Western Roman Empire before then. Then the Ottomans came as well. It's not my fault for my nation's actions. "
"I think what our Knight meant is that the hatred of cultures has been a major reason for any conflicts, Aikaterine." Zadkiel added with a sigh. She, too, was perplexed by humanity's murdering of each other due to their cultures, ethnicity, and so-on...just...why?
"You don't tell me...I was afraid I would have to experience the average Turkish vs Greek debate here." Aikaterine whispered the last part to herself with the smallest chuckle, before shivering as she imagined the horror of it "L-let's us not waste our time here...where is our Maid of Orleans, actually?"
"She is the last one left to be rescued." Zadkiel mentioned, creating another portal for them. "Here, enter the portal and I will see you in Jeanne's nightmares."
The Exorcists didn't waste their time and entered the portal immediately. They were nearly done here.
Mainland France/The Kingdom Of England/Rouen [1431 AD]
Heretic!
Charles's courtesan!
Devil's Servant!
In Rouen, a part of England at that time, what seemed to be a normal day turned out to be quite an eventful one...
The Trial of Jeanne d'Arc.
The crowd scorned Jeanne with words of damnation as she was led to the pyre. Jeanne, at this point, had endured so much...attempts of rape, torture, and humilation. But even with that, she felt the pain as she endured it. At this point, she had already abandoned emotions such as fear, disappointment, and regret from the outset of her battles, so she was able to walk towards her death without faltering in her steps.
Both Zadkiel and the Exorcists managed to get there in time as Jeanne's burning was about to commence.
"Interesting....I don't see her sins anywhere." Zadkiel noted it to her. Each nightmare had the same pattern: a re-experience of the deepest fear with their sins tormenting them into guilt. With Jeanne...it was different for some reason.
Zadkiel returned his gaze to Jeanne... there was clearly something missing. But at the same time, English footmen brought her to the pyre. When Jeanne tried to reach for the cross that had been on her chest before it was snatched from her, she felt some sadness as there was nothing to support her heart.
"Here, God bless you, Maiden." Another Englishman, who revered her, gave her a wooden cross, fashioned by himself for her.
Jeanne only smiled at him, thanking him quietly as he knelt and wept. Her hands were tied to a wooden stake behind her, and while the priest began to recite.
"Joan d'Arc. You have been sentenced to the Pyre for conspiring against His Majesty King Henry VI of England, blessed by God himself, to rule the Kingdoms of France and England. You're also responsible for witchcraft and defilement of our Lord's righteous! By the will of the Holy Papacy and the Lord of Heaven, you're sentenced to the pyre. May the Devil have his disciple return back to his fold. Burn in Hell, Joan d'Arc!"
He finished his recitation, and then tossed the torch onto the pyre. As they believed that the loss of the flesh was the greatest of fears, it was the cruelest punishment that could be laid upon her. But fortunately, the fire didn't immediately catch Jeanne on fire, but it quickly got closer and closer to her.
"Jeanne!" Zadkiel exclaimed, running to save their maid of Orleans. She did not bother to tell the exorcists that they needed to save her. They also ran after her.
"O Lord, I give myself to You."
"O Lord, I give myself to You."
"O Lord, I give myself to You."
Jeanne wept and cried, as she cried for the Lord's forgiveness. But in a weird sense of irony, Jeanne received the Lord's forgiveness... by none other than Zadkiel: Archangel of Mercy. Zadkiel sent a blast wave to the pyre, extinguishing the fire in an instant. Exorcists also formed their positions around the pyre, not sure if English footmen would try to stop them.
The Archangel Zadkiel then summoned her dagger, the same dagger that the Prophet Abraham tried to sacrifice his son Isaac with. She cut the ropes, letting Jeanne go.
"H-how are you able--wait...Zadkiel?" Jeanne asked, rubbing her hands. She somehow remembered...the Archangel Of Mercy.
Zadkiel smiled in response, helping the Maid of Orleans to get up. Their little sweet moment had to be ended immediately by the sudden outburst of someone's else.
"What in the Lord's name are you doing? How dare you defile our Lord's command to burn that witch!" The same priest that tried to burn Jeanne, complained.... to the Archangel...of a Lord himself in Heavens...yikes.
Again, In a twisted sense of irony, Zadkiel slapped that Catholic priest right in his cheek, making him yelp in pain. It was amusing, to say the least, for Jeanne.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, servant of my Father! My Lord didn't command you to burn Jeanne to the ground that time. Stop using my father as the justification for your sinful ways!"
"Couldn't have said it better myself." Jeanne said to herself, still recovering from the exhaustion.
"Umm, Zadkiel?" Uriel's voice echoed all around them.
"What, Uriel?!" The Archangel Of Mercy slightly responded in an annoyed tone, still staring at that priest in disgust.
"If it's really Jeanne's memory, how come the priest responds to you?!"
"Responds? You mean-"
Zadkiel then stopped as it hit her. The Priest immediately looked up with a worried expression, seeing that it didn't work out just as the master wanted.
"Oh, crap."
"He is a SIN!" Rönne exclaimed.
"I'm on it!"
True to her word, Aikaterine fired from her shotgun, sending that Sin Entity flying before crashing against the floor. All the crowd that waited for Jeanne's burning turned out to be just the Devil's minions in disguise. They screeched inhumanely at the Warriors of Heaven, ready to attack.
ENOUGH!
"Not good..." Zadkiel whispered, recognizing that voice.
The Sin Entitles immediately began to cower in horror as the voice let them know he was...disappointed. The city of Rouen began to darken in an instant, before the scenery changed.
The Ninth Ring
With Zadkiel, Exorcists are now in the upper balcony of the massive Citadel in the Frozen Ring, with a rather amazing overview of the entire snowy hellhole. Of course, he was here as well...waiting for them. The Devil began to slowly move, going down from the stairs. The Sin Entities retreated in fear, opening a path for the Dark Lord to the Zadkiel and Exorcists.
One of the Sin Entities tried to reason with the Dark Father, approaching his creator closer. "My father, we're terribly - "
The Dark Lord didn't bother to even look at that sin entity as he turned his free hand and obliterated that entity in instant motion. Rest assured, no one tried to do that again.
Approaching to the servant's of his so-called "Primordial Brother". The shadow of the Dark Lord fell on Zadkiel's entire body. He is shown to be towering over the Archangel, but yet not gigantic. He is fully armored with a dark robe covering his armor, even his face could not be seen from the fully armored crown helmet...and the slits for the eyes in the helmet made the Devil look more sinister.
The Dark Lord stopped in front of Zadkiel. He then slammed his Trident's butt against the cold floor, causing a little shockwave. It made all of the sin entities, excluding the original "Mother" Sin, disappear instantly. It wasn't exactly clear what happened to them...either they just disappeared or...died out.
The Exorcists, fared no better. Hell, they didn't even aim their weapons at the Dark Lord, instead they looked at each other, hopping that someone had an idea. Even when the Devil cast a glance their way, they were helpless.
16) "* Sinister incoherent whispers*" The Dark Lord made a sound. He then extended his hand towards them. It glowed in the dark fog as the exorcists began screaming in pain...before collapsing on the floor.
"My Knights!" Zadkiel exclaimed, she felt she had lost their psychic connection with them...and yet, she still remained her connection... with The Dark Lord, that is.
Dealing with the expendables, The Devil then simply turned his head back on Zadkiel... and stared at her, menacingly. In front of the Primordial Spirit of All Evil and Supreme God of Entire Hell, the Archangel of Mercy summoned her dagger and simply pointed it at the Dark Lord, ready to defend her father's purity...even then, Zadkiel, with all her strength, tries to not burst into tears and run to her parents...never was a warrrior of Heaven...never will be.
Surprisingly, the Dark Lord didn't attack her. It was an awkward stare before he finally kneeled in front of. The darkness and black fog would consume his body before it changed him. No longer was he a towering menace...but now a grim and enigmatic version of God's corporeal form, the Devil's own "deceiver" form.
"I waited a long time for this moment to come."
"Bearer of Mercy."
Notes:
So as above mentioned, here is the list of cut content.
1) Prior to the Devil's reveal to the Exorcists, The Exorcist's Alpha Squad originally would have barricaded themselves in one of the rooms against the "Despoiled" Creatures fight off against them, preventing to enter the perimeter. This of course is reference to Zombie Mode in Cod Series. I removed it because It didn't flow quite good.
2) All of Exorcist's past memories were originally expanded further than in the current state.
2.1) For Rönne: There was a supposed a scene where young Rönne teamed up with Bounty Hunters and take down Zapatian Revolutionaries in Laredo and Nuevo-Laredo, border city of Texas and Mexico, thus making his fate sealed. Plus a Charlotte Shaffer's death scene and that scene with Past Mr. Hazbin and Rönne was far bigger.
2.2) For Miu: mostly more of Hara Castle's siege.
2.3) For Aikaterine: a graphic depiction of how she and her father died by the hands of Greek's Army.
All of that stuff was written at first but ultimately I had removed because holy Shit, it would haven 30.000 per word Chapter.
---------------------------------------
Language Translations in Chronological Order:1) "Did you like it, my little bunny?"- (German)
2) "Is... what happened to him?" - (German)
3) "I will use your father's words. He rammed a boat because of a sea girl." - (German)
4) "But mermaids are beautiful!" - (German)
5) "They are, Rönne. But there are different kinds of mermaids in the world. Some are good, while others seduce you with bad deeds. Lorelei was a bad mermaid. That's why your father was so vigilant when he was in the Imperial Navy. Otherwise, the mermaids would have caught him long ago." - (German)
6) "Ah, look who just arrived." - (German)
7) "What's wrong, honey?" - (German)
8) "I have some news, Charlotte." - (German)
9) "I got an offer from the United States Navy to train the ship's crew. The pay is so good, we might survive this drought." - (German)
10) "What kind of ship is that?" - (German)
11) "Are you sure about that?" - (German)
12) "Honey, our supplies are running out and we can't afford any more. It's either that or starve. I don't want our little Rönne to starve." - (German)
13) "As long as you don't go to war, that's fine with me. When will you leave?" - (German)
14) "Right now. The train is coming in two hours and then I'm going to Galveston before a transport ship sends me to Maine." - (German)
15) "You miserable traitor!" - (Japanese)
16) "You have fulfilled your purpose" - (Primordial)
Chapter 19: [Don't] Fear The Reaper...
Summary:
“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them” – George Eliot.
Notes:
At the end of October, I also released "The Master and Martha". It's something that was in my drafts for long time since the 2020 when "The Murder Famiy" came out. So check it out if you want.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
January 1, 2020, AD (23 hours before HH's Pilot), 00:41 AM.
???/???/???
*Carriage movement and hoofsteps*
"Oh, good lord, my head." The passenger on the carriage murmured, rubbing his head. The pain felt unbearable to him...as if he had been stung by every poisonous bee in the world.
Weirdly, the last thing he remembered was how he was running away from the SWAT team with his heister buddies. They were robbing some kind of jewelry store not far from the border of Canada before the police swarmed them inside, making them retreat. As they were trying to escape through the border, there was a gunshot from the distance before he just...remembered the darkness and being awakened here.
Finally opening his eyes, he gained even more questions from what he saw. He seems to be in a dark, dead forest. The trees are completely dead, with not a single leaf. Nothing could be seen from afar due to the dense fog. And most importantly of all, he was in the carriage for some reason.
"How in the -"
"Hey, you."
"You’re finally awake."
He immediately turned to see that he was not alone. There were three more people on the carriage. They're all as pale as hell and devoid of any identity.
"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that American SWAT ambush, same as us, and that thief over here."
"Damn you, Heisters. Cornwall city was fine until you came along. Canada was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that car and been halfway to Ottawa." A petty thief complained before addressing the one who had awoken just now. "You there. You and me — we should not be here."
"What the fuck is going on!?" The awaken one complained. Maybe the driver can help. "Hey, driver. What in God's name is going -"
It turns out there was no driver...but a horse...oh, God... holy mother of God, it was like something out of a nightmare. The horse had been stripped of all flesh, leaving only a pile of bones that moved alive. Whatever it was, it is now a skeletal undead horse.
"Wait, what the fuck!?" The awoken screamed in horror.
"We’re all brothers and sisters in binds of death now, friend."
As he finished, the area around them revealed a castle in front of them. Everything appeared to be dead and grim. And then the awakened one noticed this:
Welcome to Purgatory, Mortals.
Home to the Benevolent Mama Grim herself.
And what that passenger said about being in the grip of death made the awakened one realize.
He is now in the Land of the Dead
"No..." The awakened one whispered as the denial began to engulf his mind. "No! No-no-NO!"
"I CAN'T BE DEAD"
"THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING."
His scream could be heard from afar, even by a newcomer. Archangel Azrael had barely stepped onto the plane of "intermediate state" when he witnessed the typical behavior of those who departed from mortal life: rejection of their deaths. It appears that one of the newly arrived souls was shocked to learn that he had died. And he chose to scream before getting up and jumping out of the carriage, attempting to flee where he was supposed to go next... but, sadly for that soul, no one can flee from death itself.
The soul felt something paralyze him before, in front of him, emerged a creature from the ground. That creature, paler than Death and shrouded in a dark, hooded robe, was what humanity feared the most when it came to them sooner or later.
The Grim Reaper
"Cease your ignorance at once and embrace the blessing of death, deceased one. Mama Grim loves all of her deceased children equally!" Proclaimed the Grim Reaper to the mortal.
"NO! NO! PLEASE! I CANNOT BE DEAD!"
"Silence and Comply!" The Grim Reaper interrupted, swinging his scythe at the soul, causing him to lose consciousness when the blade of the scythe made contact with the essence of his soul. What followed next was the ironic loss of Reaper's façade.
"For Death's sake, how can they be so ignorant when it comes to this?" The Grim Reaper grumped under his nonexistent nose and rubbed his jaw, taking a little sigh. He would then raise his skeleton hand and lift the unconscious soul with his telekinetic powers, before dropping him on the Grim Reaper's shoulder.
The Servant of Death would float back to where the soul needed to go next, passing by Azrael of Heaven, but he would stop and turn around to make a note.
"You may laugh, Heavenly One, but this is everyday behavior we have to deal with. You or Hell could at least help us by helping them to accept the nature of death."
"Not my or Heaven's problem for humanity's ignorance, Grim Reaper." Azrael scowled at the Servant of Death, even showing hostility.
"Yeah, well, someone has to do it eventually. Otherwise, if another Black Death comes again, Purgatory will be completely fucked." Reaper complained to Azrael before flying to the castle, where there was a huge line of mortals...waiting for their "Life-Trial".
Azrael hummed to himself as he crossed his arms and stood back to watch the show. Azrael, as Archangel of Death, also handles what these skeletal guys do in the "Death Department." Their objectives differ, however, as Azrael takes the souls of the faithful, whereas the Grim Reapers deal with those who are deemed too sinful to be admitted directly into Heaven but not evil enough to be condemned to Hell.
As it's known, Purgatory is a realm that is said to exist midway between the eternal punishment of Hell and the unending paradise of Heaven. This realm is "said" to be governed by "She Who Trumps and Defines Existence," who is completely neutral in all the Natural Order's endeavors. The whole point of purgatory is that it judges the mortals' life actions. If their virtues exceed their sins, they were deemed for temporary punishment. But unlike Hell's punishment, the ultimate result of purgatory is to be set free and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
Azrael is a "diplomatic envoy of heaven" to Purgatory. Surprisingly, the "temporary" plane is not aligned with either Heaven or Hell, but rather... a third party in some ways. But Azrael doesn't have time to sightsee, as he is here for a reason. Previously, his sister "Uriel" told him that the treacherous wretched one named "Azazel" escaped from the prison and was now back in Hell. Why it has to do with Purgatory is...a complicated story.
A long time ago, when Heaven's rebellion was ongoing. Many loyalists and fallen ones perished in the devastating battles. Those who surrendered to Heaven's loyalists were sentenced to "Eternal Punishment"...or known as the Dudael. It's a prison for all fallen angels who didn't escape or fell into the Underworld. God commanded that all fallen ones would be imprisoned until the "time will come" for their redemption. Azazel was the one who was sentenced there as well. And that's where Azrael comes in, ready to cause a diplomatic incident.
And with no time delay, Azrael went straight to the main castle...where the trial process occurred. At this very moment, the waiting line is huge, with the deceased waiting impatiently to just get over it and pass through the Gates of Heaven...or the Gates of Hell if they are not lucky.
Azrael didn't bother with the line and simply decided to cut it entirely, passing by. The deceased looked, scowled, and grumbled at this behavior... but there was nothing they could do. He'd arrive near the desk where another Grim Reaper was writing on his notes as a deceased soul walked up to him for the "bureaucratic process." Unlike the other Grim Reapers, he had an impressively long chin that made him unique among them.
"Name?" The same Grim Reaper mumbled in a thick Jamaican accent... for some reason, he seems familiar.
"Smitty Werbenjägermanjensen" The deceased one simply answered.
"Reason for your death?" Grim continued without even looking.
"I was number one."
"Go to the left." Grim once again said it with no enthusiasm.
Smithy went to where he was directed. He was stopped by a...charming other reaper. Unlike the others, she had black long hair tied into a ribbon with flowers on it. Her entire skull was drawn in very bright colors, and her dress was unique compared to the typical shrouded dark robes.
1) "La Santa Muerte misma te bendice con el dulce alivio de la muerte, mortal. Espero que disfrutes de tu nueva vida después de la muerte, dondequiera que vayas". The Reaper declared, with a heartfelt and genuine voice. She would present him with a white chrysanthemum as a symbolic flower during the funeral.
This Reaper appears to be returning a favor from the mortal plane. In other words, while his friends and loved ones mourned him and threw flowers at his coffin in the meantime, the Reaper has come to let him know that he will be missed back there...even in Death, there is beauty in it.
Smithy would take the flower before entering inside, ready to be judged. When Death takes a mortal, their sins and virtues are weighed by a set of scales, ones that are usually held by Grim reapers.
If a sin they committed garnered a larger effect than a virtue, then they are sent to Hell and vice versa. But should their sins and virtues equal one another in weight, they are instead sent to Purgatory's great mountains. Once there, the angels from Heaven would make a "test" for them. Dante Alighieri, ironically, was the closest one with his "Dante's Purgatorio" book to correctly portraying Purgatory's test for Heaven's passage if sins and virtues were equal. Azrael never liked this system in the first place...not to add how...Limbo was also in that system as well. But this was Yahweh and Asherah's decision, so it can't be questioned...
Archangel Azrael would finally come up to that Jamaican Grim Reaper, who waited for the next mortal to come up. In the meantime, he was just screwing around, muttering to himself.
"♪ Mama say mama as mama kusa - Mama say mama as mama kusa- Mama say mama as mama kusa. ♪" Grim repeated to himself as he wrote the names of the deceased ones.
"Will you stop and get on with it?" Azrael complained.
"Just trying to get meh mojo flowing, mista-" Grim then stopped as he looked up to see not a mortal...but an Archangel. "Huh...looks like they sent Heavenly boys here."
"And that's a problem, Servant of Death?" Azrael threatened, showing that he won't take any low-opinions about Heaven's Angels.
"No, sir." Grim slightly leaned away. "Just makin an observation."
2) "Creo que no deberías enfadarle, Grim" The Mexican Grim Reaper commented. Azrael immediately turned his head at that Female Reaper. In response, she cleared her...bony throat in fear.
"Who is that girl?" Azrael asked Grim in bland manner.
"That's Catalina La Catrina. She handles in "Day of the Dead" affairs under some kind of demon...don't remember his name." Grim explained before once again returning on important topic. "So what can we do to help ya, mista Azrael?"
"I need to speak with "She Who Trumps and Defines Existence". It's Heaven's business and so it's classified."
"Just that? That's so rich coming from you."
Another voice came from the right, with another...Grim Reaper arriving to oversee the situation.
"You..." Azrael mumbled like a vermin. He recognized him right away, even though he hadn't changed all that much...
Another Archangel stands in front of him... with a very similar pattern to Azrael. That Archangel has dark hair and sharp features, as well as the same dark rosy cheeks and pale complexion as Azrael. Because everyone in the Heavenly Host recognizes Azrael's distinct appearance, unlike the rest, it is very easy to identify the other Dark Archangel...
Abaddon himself.
Named Muriel before, Abaddon is/was an Archangel of Death...before Azrael took the mantle of the main "Archangel of Death". Originally, he had been given the task by God of collecting the earth, which would be used in the creation of Adam and Lilith. After his creation, Abaddon was appointed as the Guardian of Adam.
When rebellion occurred, Abaddon just deserted and escaped away to the realm of death, becoming the main Grim Reaper of Death herself. Ironically, both Heaven and Hell still claim him as an ally and other times as an enemy. Abaddon has also been identified as the "angel" of death or destruction and the demon of the abyss. Hence why Azrael is so displeased with the existence of a "neutral" plane of existence. Azrael, to this day, could not believe that neither Asherah nor Yahweh made sure that Purgatory aligned with them. And now this realm is flirting with both Heaven and Hell for their own benefit.
"Yes, me. Who else do you think it would be? Mephistopheles? Oh, please, Azrael. I'm the only one who is "friendly" to you in this realm."
"And a treacherous one." Azrael returned it with a very threatening tone.
"My-my, still a grumpy one. Clearly, a long time no see, brother." Abaddon returned, crossing his arms with a smug tone. "Now tell me, what's the reason for your presence rather than you demanding our audience with our Benevolent One ? Because last time I knew, there was no diplomatic accident between us and Heaven."
"I'm happy that you mentioned it now, Abaddon." Azrael began, showing how serious this is with his tone. "Because you know the price of breaking an "Agreement Treaty" with Heaven. It would be a shame if I had to send a garrison of "Powers" to oversee this plane for now on."
"Oh, mama" Grim Reaper with a Jamaican accent whispered, and even La Catrina felt slightly...worried about Heaven's potential further involvement.
Abaddon sighed in response, understanding it now completely. He simply turned and gestured for Azrael.
"Follow me, representative of Heaven."
Without any delay, Azrael would follow his traitorous brother inside the Citadel of the "Benevolent One". And thanks to Abaddon's involvement in calming the situation down, it at least allowed for the "Death Traffic" to resume once again.
"Well...back to the mundane job." Grim remarked to himself, with no amusement. He'd then take a deep breath, realizing how much he hated his job. "Eh, and once I thought that being a slave to these kids is worse...wherever you are, Billy and Mandy, I hope you're enjoying your lives...I miss you, guys."
Abaddon guided Azrael away from many Reapers' ears and through the dark corridors. It was important that no one heard their conversation. As the Archangel who runs this entire operation, it was important for Abaddon to balance the needs of Heaven and Hell.
Abaddon would stop in front of the massive iron gates that lead to where the "Benevolent One" resides. He would gently open the doors, with Azrael following him inside. This room is just a round-shaped altar room. It's nearly empty and has no decorations whatsoever.
"Dreadful as always." Azrael commented coldly...still not amused to see that treacherous Angel as well.
"Dread is part of lifecycle for all, Azrael. Remember that life cannot exist without death, and death cannot exist without life." Abaddon shared the wisdom, before changing the subject. "Now, my brother. I presume it's all about Azazel, isn't it?"
"Clearly, someone has done their work already." Azrael returned it, crossing his arms. "Then you understand why I'm here, Abaddon."
"That I do, but you must understand that we, the Grim Reapers, didn't have a voice in that matter. It's all her decision by herself."
"Quick to point your fingers at your Goddess?" Azazel mocked him once more.
"No, we cannot question her as she is the one who guides the streams of life. Allow her to explain it personally."
Abaddon would then come to the center of the room and fall to his knees, beginning to do his part.
Hear us, Definer of Existence
We, call upon you.
To seek your blessing of Eternal Peace.
Grant us The True Meaning of Nature
Grant us The Sweet Release of Death
Grant us, O Mighty Reaper
Your presence to us.
The room was momentarily filled with black fog and...the sinister...but calming whispers of someone...beyond this plane. Many black pupils emerged from the fog, and they first looked at Azrael and stared at him.
As he made his presence known to the Primordial Spirit, the Archangel of Death remained stoic and confident. The black fog all around them would then rematerialize into...a new shadowy silhouette, and all the eyes would vanish into nothingness.
It would approach Azrael slowly, whispering in a nonsense language that even Archangels couldn't understand. But Azrael remained silent before opening his mouth.
"Hello"
"Aunt Death"
*Inside The Minds of Uriel and Zadkiel*
"What have you done to them? Answer me, Lord of Sins!"
...
And some even question why the war in Heaven occurred at all.
When the Devil first saw the newly born Helel, he realized how flawed archangels are: stuck-up, egoistic, and close-minded creatures whose entire façade changes from just and dutiful to bitter and resentful the moment their creators turn their backs on them. How pitiful...really...even Zadkiel is not immune to this.
The Archangel of Mercy continued to point her dagger at the Dark Lord as the Devil allowed himself to be known. He remained silent, staring at "The Lesser One" before finally breaking the sinister silence.
"You may cease this stupidity at once, bearer of Mercy."
"And let you corrupt me as you did the rest of us?" Zadkiel returned in a hostile manner. Yet she still showed fear of the Devil's presence.
"There will be no point, my dear." Devil stated, adjusting his tie in the meantime. "You and your entire concept called "Heaven" have already fallen from its grace. Look at what your "friends in exorcism" are doing. "
"They are nothing compared to what your own kind is doing in Hell, Evil one."
"Oh, but it's their own fault for what they have done to my realm, Bearer of Mercy. The moment they gained freedom from their Lord was the moment Chaos and Tyranny began to fold itself into the Realm of Hell. It was inevitable...a fire that fuels the creation and gives its purpose where there is none ."
"You twist the words and downplay everything that the Creator himself gave us. Of course, you would say this. You don't care for nothing!"
"The concept of "care" is of no concern to me, bearer of mercy." The Devil then glanced at Zadkiel directly, noting the dagger she held. "And don't forget you hold Abraham's sacrificial dagger. Did you really care to stop Abraham from sacrificing his son by yourself...or because your Lord commanded you to do that?"
"No one should be forced to sacrifice their children because a higher being told them to. Abraham understood that and asked for forgiveness. I granted him that...without my father saying anything on that matter."
"Then you should understand you must give mercy and forgiveness to everyone...and yet...you don't ."
The Devil's psychical form would then come closer to her, making Zadkiel fix her relaxed posture and aim her dagger at him.
"So, tell me, bearer of Mercy. Will you grant me mercy and forgiveness?"
"And why should I do that?"
"As it says, the Lord forgives all, Bearer of Mercy. And as far as I know, I'm included in all that exists. Tell me then, should I be forgiven... or am I an exception to him... and to you? "
Zadkiel backed away from him because she is... conflicted about it. The Archangel of Mercy is, of course, the patron saint of all forgiveness, and Humanity believes that she grants forgiveness and mercy. The problem is...
She grants forgiveness on the basis of her instincts.
There were times when, after the rebellion, some fallen angels begged for forgiveness, often pleading that they had been misguided by Lucifer's ideas of freedom. But it wasn't always genuine pleading; the fallen ones still resented their father, their loyal siblings, and everything Heaven stood for... not to mention the atrocities they committed. Many animals perished in Eden; three of the four cherub populations were destroyed; the Old Goetia was destroyed; and now Paulina is their rump remnant. Not to mention Zadkiel almost being violated by rebel Angels.
And in the end, the fallen ones never received their forgiveness...and all of them were sent to Dudael for their eternal punishment. Zadkiel felt nothing towards these monsters...and especially for the Devil.
Who is responsible for all of this.
"Those who seek forgiveness with genuine intent, I grant it to them, evil one. But you: you may mock me because of my "hypocrisy", but I will never forgive you for the torment, destruction, and chaos you caused us all. You're an enemy of God, this existence, and everything it stands for!"
"Even if it's my genuine intent?" The Devil asked her that, thinking if she will at least ponder on it or not.
"You will never have a genuine intent, Adversary of God."
The Dark Lord only tsked at her... she was still in her bubble, after all.
"Piety that you learned nothing from the Binding of Isaac. You're still a broken child who finds pride by healing others. In truth, Bearer of Mercy. If you want to help others"
"Then start by helping yourself first."
The Devil would then strike his trident against the floor. Zadkiel immediately felt as if she could no longer move herself but tried to jerk her hands... to no avail.
"LET-ME-GO!"
"Not until you face your own fears, my dear. While Uriel's psyche may watch us, allow me in the meantime to remind you of that unfortunate rape attempt inflicted upon you."
"No, please!" Lady Of Mercy begged with tears, not wanting to relive the trauma caused by the War in Heaven.
The Devil, of course, did not show any restraint as he raised his hand and was about to touch Zadkiel's forehead. The Devil's arm was severed in the blink of an eye by the blade that passed between him and Zadkiel. The Dark Lord's reaction was almost non-existent. As soon as his severed arm fell off, he raised his remaining arm and looked at it without emotion before turning his head in the direction of where she was.
"I was wondering when you would show up, Bearer of Light." The Devil remarked as his arms regrew into a shadowy one, with black fog compiled together from the Devil's true form...that was hidden behind his façade of an old man in a black suit.
"My apology for disappointing you, Lord of Darkness. Next time, I will ask for the Holy Spirit to aim your head instead." Archangel Uriel remarked as her form would appear not far away, holding her sword already in readiness.
"Ah, of course. Still to this day, nothing you could do without your Lord's shadow." The Devil returned the mocker back to her, finding her comment to be adorable. He would then glance at Zadkiel, deciding that she had enough. "You're free to go, Bearer of Mercy."
The Dark Lord then struck his trident again. Zadkiel collapsed to her knees as soon as she felt the release. She didn't get up right away because fatigue was starting to take its toll on her. The cost of maintaining that connection with Uriel is increasing by the second.
"Go-on, being of creation. Go to your so-called sister." The Devil shooed her away, not caring if she was getting weaker.
Zadkiel would eventually stand up and limp away from the Dark Lord's presence, towards Uriel. As soon as she was within Uriel's reach, the Archangel of Light would take Zadkiel in her arms, not wanting her to overwork herself.
"I'm here, Zaddy." Uriel cooed, rubbing her sister's back...while still maintaining eye contact with the Dark Lord...she will be ready if he tries something.
"Uri...this...too much."
"Then it would be best if she would leave us alone, Bearer of Light. I allow her to leave...she is beyond the grander picture." The Devil advised them. He sounded genuine in his tone here. However, with that genuine demeanor, it sounded wicked rather than typical "Uncle to Nephew" advice.
"Don't listen to him...I can hold it...just...need to put more strength into it." Zadkiel whispered.
Uriel, though, appreciates Zadkiel's courage...has to disagree with her. It was Light's idea in the first place to come up with the dangerous mutual connection. And as the Devil's presence is here, clearly with the intent to destroy both of them. Uriel could not allow Zadkiel to perish...she just...can't.
Hence
It's Uriel's fight from now on.
"Holy Spirit, sever her from us."
"What?! No, Uriel. I can -"
Zadkiel could not finish when, in the blink of an eye, she found herself once more in Eve's office. She blinked a few times, looking around before getting up on her feet. Both Uriel and Holy Spirit's forms in the real universe are still here, while their minds are now in a fight against the Dark Lord... There is nothing Zadkiel could do at this point.
"Zadkiel, what is going?!" Eve called out, not understanding the whole...supernatural elements.
"Now it's up to them..." Zadkiel whispered as she looked down at Uriel, concerned.
Now that Zadkiel was gone, The Archangel of Light focused her attention on the Devil, waiting for him to make a move. Ironically, the Dark Lord did nothing but stare at her.
"Look at you: so blissfully caring all of a sudden. Where were you when Helel needed that comfort?" The Devil questioned her.
"...Care to tell me what it is all about?" Uriel didn't give him the pleasure of answering that.
"Bearer of Mercy?" The Devil's tone slightly showed surprise in it. "She and these exorcists were just a ruse to get you here. You're the one who I wish to speak with."
The Devil once more began to move, circling around Uriel as neither the Dark Lord nor she broke eye contact.
"Tell me, do you really believe that I would not know of your and Helel's little secret?"
"You've been chained to Hell's deepest chasms, Evil One. Even if you can hear our conversations, your influence in Hell is extremely limited, and it exists solely due to Samael's devotion to you."
"A minor setback, bearer of light. The Seven Deadly Sins still serve my interests, whether they like it or not." The Devil corrected her. He would then come to a halt in front of her. "Yet, despite the fact that the entire Heaven despises Helel for his betrayal, you and Gabriel extended your hand to him."
"I sensed Helel's conflicts back then...and as he returned, not so long ago."
"Yes, because you both sensed the hypocrisy of your so-called parents, Bearer of Light. Don't you see? That's why you're both compatible with each other."
Uriel remained silent throughout, but her expression was strained. Her puzzled expression indicated to the Devil that she was unsure why she had that sibling bond with Helel.
"Hm...and it seems you were both tools of the Greater Ones...just once I was."
"If you think your sympathy will allow you to sway me, then you're gravely mistaken. Your attempts to destroy all that exists have shown your true nature."
"Destroy?" The Devil expressed his baffled tone. "Arrogant little girl, this 'existence' is just a mere construct of their power. A power that's been slowly crumbling into dust. Everything you see has no purpose. The darkness was simple and straightforward. There was no chaos, there was no evil. There was nothing ! And then they came and ruined it entirely!"
The Devil then makes a short pause, giving a glance at Uriel...realizing one thing. "Look no further than our Adam and Eve: A Genesis to all. What became of their legacy? A kind that is fully ignorant, greedy, perverted and hateful. They are all beyond redemption."
"And because of some rotten apples, the rest must suffer too?"
"Yes, because the entire tree is rotten to the core." The Devil gladly took Uriel's bait game. "Don't you see? Everything is beyond their redemption. Your creators are blind to what their creation has become. Many times I tried to tell them, they didn't listen. I forced my hand on them, they locked me out. All I want from Archangels like you is to believe me. Allow me to fix it, Bearer of Light, to cleanse the Creation from the Chaos."
The Devil would then extend his hand as a sign of peace, hoping that Uriel would accept him. The Light of God remained silent, but the conflicts began to play out as she lowered her eyes.
"You can feel it, don't you? That little part of you is calling you for a reason. Think of Eve...how much she suffered from this nonsense..."
Uriel would close her eyes. Ultimately, after some minutes of silence, she would open them once again and raise her head.
"You're forgetting one thing, Devil. You don't want to fix Creation."
"You want to poison it even further."
The Devil would lower his hand, seeing that it didn't work. Despite his bland expression, Uriel knew she made him pissed off.
"You desire to poison all that is virtuous and pure. Hence, you lied to Helel, Yophiel, and Samael. Then you used them to tempt Adam and Eve into evil. Humanity may be cruel and spiteful, but your words are twisted beyond reason and understanding."
"Even back then and now, you're still unchanged, Bearer of Light. I've given you many chances and choices to see reason, and you've lost them. You could have been a Goddess among the Imp kind, hailing you and Samael as Imperator and Imperatress of Wrath. You could have been given so much potential! And yet you throw it away, and align yourself with the worthwhileness of this universe."
The Devil then adjusted his trident, making him hold it like a mace. Uriel also fixed her stance for the combat.
"If you will not move on from this pathetic way of thinking,"
T̴͉͍̣̖̯̈́̂h̶̝̙͌̎ȩ̴̧̠̥̽̾̎͊ͅn̴͖̳̝͔̂
̷͇͈̉̋̿
̴̧͖͔̏͐̌̕͝S̷̢̳̙͑̀͜ǫ̴͈͈̣̱́̾
̸̙̥̻̽͌̐
̸̡̛̉B̶̡̬̪̗̼͛̄ë̶̳̰̬̮́̿̐͒͋ ̶͈̜͍͌͜i̴̧͉̗̱̯̅̀̾ṭ̴̓͗.̵̢̱͂̒̔
The Dark Lord would go first, "fast-walking" at the Archangel Uriel and raising his trident. Using her wings, Uriel jumped up and swung her sword at the Dark One. It caused damage to him, and the cut is now visible. And yet there was no reaction from the Dark Lord. He instead slammed and collided his trident against Uriel's sword, causing quite a shockwave that sent the Angel away, making her crash to the floor.
But Uriel quickly got up as the Dark Lord fast-walked towards her and was about to slam his trident once more, she dodged him this time and swung her sword once more, cutting him. And yet the Primordial's psychical form didn't even bother with deflections and swung his trident at her.
Uriel dodged his Trident swings again, seeing that deflecting It would cause a great shockwave that hurt her more. Hence, she dodged every attack of his. In every swing, Uriel could at least hit Devil's body on some occasions. Uriel proved to be quite agile against Devil's attack. But despite this, whenever she managed to hit him, there were no changes to Dark Lord. For every cut, more black smoke emitted from his fake human body, revealing his true nature more and more.
However, this time. Uriel made a mistake by dodging an attack too early, and Devil managed to hit her once more, sending her crashing against the wall.
The Dark Lord didn't waste time and once again raised his trident at her. However, behind him, the Holy Spirit would also appear, flying to him and landing on Devil's shoulder. It caused a great amount of pain for The Devil, considering that Spirit has the essence of the Primordial God.
Uriel used the opportunity to also hurt The Devil. By readying her light powers, The Light of God raised her sword and swung right into Devil's face, making him slip and fall on his back.
"Having enough, huh?" Archangel Uriel mocked him. But still breathed in and out, caressing her forehead. Her mind is also now experiencing fatigue from this psychical warfare, just like Zadkiel was before.
The Dark Lord would also get up on his knees, covering his face. Uriel quickly fixed her posture for the next combat. When The Devil would uncover his face, Uriel felt slightly disturbed. His form's face suffered severe damage, with the left part of it now gone...with nothing but a black fog now covering it instead.
"You still don't understand, do you?" The Devil muttered, standing on his feet. "Nothing will stop my vengeance. The Seven once tried to fight back...and now-"
The environment around them had changed yet again. They are now in Heaven, scorched and destroyed by the infighting, violence, and chaos of the Great Rebellion. When Uriel realized she was being surrounded, she quickly raised her sword in preparation before learning who they were....
"M-my...siblings?" Uriel muttered in confusion, and dread as well.
Helel
Samael
Yophiel
Asmodel
Mammonel
Leviel
Bephiel
The Seven Ones have surrounded Uriel... in their angelic forms, it turns out. They bear no resemblance to corrupt individuals. They are exactly as they were...beautiful, elegant, and bearing God's graciousness.
"They serve me."
The Devil's physical form would then disappear, allowing the Seven to have fun for now.
"Torment her!"
"You heard him, boys. Let's fuck her up real good!" Helel laughed, showing no care towards her sister.
So the fight resumed. Samael and Yophiel were the first to approach her, their weapons raised. Uriel reacted quickly, dodging Samael's axe and pushing Yophiel away before turning his attention to the next attackers.
"All will obey!"
Mammonel and Asmodel attacked her. Uriel kicked Asmodel away after deflecting his fancy lute with her own sword. She did the same for Samael and Mammonel.
"Embrace your sins, Bearer of Light!"
Leviel was the final one...because Bephiel was useless in any case. Leviel swings his sabre at her, only for Uriel to follow suit. She punched him and pushed him to the ground after deflecting his attack. She was about to raise her sword at him when the future Lord of Envy cowered in fear. After seeing him like this, Uriel actually paused her attack... Her feelings for him were a mistake.
"Do you not see your death?!"
"By the hands of your so-called "brother?"
True to the Devil's word, Helel would run up behind her and stab Uriel in the back with his sword, both literally and metaphorically. Uriel collapsed to the ground in agony, and The Sevens ran up and are now savagely beating her up while laughing in delight.
Thankfully, Uriel was still alive because it wasn't real life for her. Even so, she is becoming increasingly weakened as a result of this fight. And all of this psychological warfare was too much for her. The Devil used her memories to wage war on her fallen siblings. While she had a somewhat flaming love for them, they responded by beating her to death.
Tears streamed from her eyes as she felt betrayed by them...and her love for them repeatedly proved to be a tool to be tossed around. As a result, she had cast her feelings aside.
As she continues to be thrashed by the Fallen Seven. Uriel then sent a shockwave, causing all seven Angels to crash to the floor. She would then stand up, summoning all her strength for the next fight. The Fallen Angels would rise one by one, alarmed by the sudden outburst of Uriel's powers.
"There is hatred in you... FEED IT!"
The Fallen Angels wasted no time and charged at her. Uriel has learned from her mistakes and is ready to fully engage in them. Mammonel was the first to strike once more. Uriel quickly deflected his attack, sliced his leg, and launched a control attack into his chest. The Future King Of Greed collapsed on the floor, grunting in agony.
"As I fall... gold and power will be my only friend." Mammonel grunted before going silent.
Six to go.
"They deserve to die, Bearer Of Light. Make them all suffer, share with them a fraction of your pain."
Asmodel and Leviel were the next to attack. Uriel deflected their attacks once more and managed to slice Asmodel's neck, causing him to fall to his knees.
"Well...Drugs and Sex it is, then." Asmodel chuckled before dropping dead as well.
Five left
"They were never your siblings. They only held you back. Only with my help can you reach your full potential."
Leviel was unable to withstand Uriel's sword swings and was stabbed. The Light of God, on the other hand, would turn her head away as she stabbed him, not wanting to see Leviel's agony.
"As I cry and wept... The Ocean of Envy will be my tears."
And Leviel dropped dead as well.
Four to go
"Oh, Bearer of Light. So afraid, so alone..."
Helel, Samael, and Yophiel, who would later form the Great Triumvirate of Inferno, would take a more tactical approach. They circled Uriel, taking their time to find a weak spot. But Yophiel would charge up impatiently, ready to take that bitch down, only for Uriel to slice Yophiel's hand and impale her chest, causing her to fall to the floor.
"If I knew what I really wanted...my hunger would have been satiated." Yophiel murmured, joining the rest of the fallen in the Great Silence.
Three left.
Ironically, Samael and Helel would once again join forces to defeat Uriel. Uriel avoided Helel's sword and deflected Samael's axe as both charged at him. She took advantage of the situation by kicking Helel away from Samael for the time being. Because Samael's attack was slow but brutal, Uriel was able to kick him in the groin before stabbing him in the chest.
"That's for groping me, traitor!" Uriel cursed at him before ripping her sword out of Samael.
"Underworld awaits...and my conquest shall be my triumph."
Then Samael died. So only Helel remained... excluding Bephiel. Bephiel couldn't even stand up... and when Uriel approached her, she simply thrust her sword into her back, putting an end to her torment.
"Shit...that escalated too quickly." Bephiel commented before dropping dead.
And now it's truly the one remaining.
"Ah, Bearer of Pride...he exists within my shadow."
Helel circled her, waiting for an opening. But Uriel beat him as well, raising her sword to strike him. The Star of God deflected Uriel's attacks, causing the Light of God to dodge Helel's counterattacks.
Uriel had an idea while fighting. She purposefully let go of her sword so that when Helel attacked again, Uriel's sword was lost and flew away. But as Helel's pride grows, so does his downfall. As he was about to strike, Uriel sent a blastwave to Helel's face, causing him to cover his eyes in pain. Uriel then grabbed Helel's sword, kicked him off of it, and threw it in Helel's direction, impaling him with his own sword.
"How far I've fallen..." Helel whispered as he glanced at his chest...before collapsing dead.
And here, Uriel had finished them all...yet she lamented the Devil for forcing her to fight her siblings.
"They were the finest warriors of Heaven, you bastard! You couldn't even make them fight properly!" screamed Uriel at a random direction, turning around to look where he is.
"Some things cannot be fully imitated, Bearer of Light."
The Devil once again appeared. But unlike before, he now has a new form. He, too, takes on the angelic form. But far more sinister, even to the likes of Angels of Death. Uriel though, immediately recognized that form from before.
Satanael: The Ruler Of The Underworld on God's behalf.
"Even in this form, you mock me." Uriel hissed at him.
"And he did it to me by giving this form, Bearer of Light. Your lord wished me to see his creation...to be like this." The Devil pointed at his form. "But a stuck-up fool won't convince me otherwise."
"You had everything, Devil. Even my parents considered you a part of the family. But your ignorance and hatred got the better of you."
"A God has no family. You are all just tools for him in the end." Satanael murmured it like a vermin before once again correcting his stance for combat.
Uriel did the same, only to see him approaching her. He swung his trident at Uriel, knocking her against the wall. He didn't stop there, though. He grabbed her by the neck and threw her to the ground. He clearly intends to break her first.
The Devil then raised his trident to strike her, only for Uriel to roll out of the way of his attack and quickly get to her feet. But his still trident managed to strike her head first. Back in the real world, Uriel was alive and well...but showed the signs of strong fatigue. Zadkiel, along with Eve, noticed that Uriel's face showed struggle and exhaustion here.
"You sure you can't do something?" Eve asked Zadkiel.
Zadkiel returned his gaze to Uriel but said nothing. Even Light's halo above her began to glow rapidly. When an angel experiences a great deal of stress and discomfort, their halos tend to glow rapidly. Zadkiel felt emotional pain after seeing Uriel in that state. There is something she must do to help her sister out. The problem was that she had no idea how...
Unless...
...
OK, it might work.
"There might be something that can help." Zadkiel was still nervous about it, so she whispered. "I can offer my energy to help Uriel's resistance. However, it may prove fatal to me."
"Do we have other options?" Eve asked. She is also concerned if Mercy's sacrifice was truly worthwhile.
"No, we don't, Eve..." Zadkiel shook her head in sadness. This is something she must do as an Archangel. "If I fall, summon Raphael's servants. They'll know what to do with me."
Zadkiel would approach Uriel without saying anything. She rested her hands on Uriel's shoulders and focused her mind on Uriel. After a few seconds, Zadkiel's hands began to glow in bright light.
The Holy Spirit felt it as well, as he kept Sin and her master from corrupting Uriel's mind throughout the battle. He realized right away what Zadkiel was up to. After the Devil struck her again, sending her flying and crashing, the Holy Spirit rematerialized to land on Uriel's shoulder. Uriel felt that reinforcement as soon as he set his perched feet down on her.
"Zadkiel...why do you have to do this?" Uriel voiced her displeasure. She didn't like it when Zadkiel used her strength and energy to help Uriel.
Her thoughts were quickly interrupted when the Dark Lord was about to swing his trident at Uriel. The Light of God deflected the attack and, with the assistance of the Holy Spirit, struck Satanael in the face, causing him to lose his flesh that concealed his true form. Uriel did not stop there, raising her sword and slicing the Devil's body. Her attacks were much faster than Devil's.
Uriel would plunge her sword into the Devil's chest at the climax. She'd then combined her power with the Holy Spirit's (and Zadkiel's) to form a ball of light in her hands as a final attempt to destroy the Devil's psychical form in order to free both the Holy Spirit and her from the Devil's mind games. The Devil covered his face from the light, as it made him...discomforted.
"You have no power, Devil! Be gone to the Celestial Prison of Descent and never come back!"
Uriel would then transform the light ball into the Devil's form. The Dark Lord's entire form exploded into many pieces the moment it caught on to him, with the rest of his pieces turned into black smoke. The shockwave also sent Uriel crashing to the ground.
She would raise her head, grunting, with all her remaining strength; she no longer has enough strength to even get on her knees. The Devil was no longer here...and with that, Uriel somehow felt happy, believing that it's over now.
But as mortals say,
Ignorance is bliss.
Uriel felt her throat being grabbed before she was lifted up. A Black Fog would merge into a silhouette, revealing who was holding her. The Devil is still here, now revealed in his true form. The only thing that was harmed by Uriel's ball was the Devil's false form. so, Uriel didn't even make a scratch.
He'd bring Uriel's face closer to his non-existent face so she could hear everything he thought of her at this point.
̶̞̌̍̚
3) "̴̝̥̭̊͛́́̊T̴̪̝̜̈́̈́̋̒y̵̯̜̯̏̔̆͋̽e̵̯̊̀͛̊͝ ̷̫̝̖͗â̶̗͈͍̋̾n̶̦͍̱̰̈́͛̓̓n̸̠͓̙͒́͜ǫ̷̖̱͍͉͋i̵̡̙̺͇͑̏̆͜m̸̄͘͜͠ͅȩ̸̲̠͓̱͐ ̶̯̣͓̀͋̈́̑͝m̸̫̪̼͒͗̊̋͝e̴͈͉͗́̽̔͘,̷̡͉̊͒ ̴͍̱̪̏̀̄ͅc̶̢̹̫͉̮̒̚͠ö̴̙͚̮̬́l̵̥̓ͅi̶͓̞͆ͅn̴̩̫͚̽̑́̋d̷̨͍̹̩̆̒̾̽̕ó̵̺̝̣͗̅̀̔ ̸̖̂̇̐͆̈́-̵͉͔̈̽ǒ̴̪͋̓̆ ̸̮̒̑̅͘k̸̹̜̖̤͑͗̀̄͠ą̵̽l̵͉̋͑"̴̩͙̓͐̅̓̏ ⛧
The Devil would then raise his shadowy claws to permanently end Uriel's mind.
*Whistle of "Don't Fear The Reaper" from the distance *
However, he came to a halt because there is...an interloper far more powerful than Uriel...or even the Holy Spirit. He'd turn his attention to the source of the whistle.
4) "̸̨̝̲̜͂T̵̜̹̖͔͊̍̑y̴̧̬͛̋͋̅̚e̸͈̟͈͆̈́̔̂̚.̷̫̳̰͕̭̈́͘.̴̨̣̖̗̅͗̕.̶̤̙̗̃"̸̣͖̱̦͕͐͗̅̕
Uriel would also look at where the humming came from, despite her being held by the throat. Indeed there was another one.
"☠ Hello there, Devil☠"
"☠ long time no see ☠"
Purgatory/In the Halls of "She Who Trumps and Defines Existence."
*A Few moments before that*
Grim Reaper,
Death of the Endless Ones
She Who Trumps and Defines Existence,
Many labels are put on the likes of her...of whom Humanity and all that is exists fear her. Some may regard her as benevolent and merciful, while others despise her for taking their loved ones. In reality, she is neither benevolent nor cruel; she simply does what she is destined to do.
Death's shadowy form would premanifest into a newer...far more...friendly one. As she left the fog, she instead now appears as an attractive, pale young goth woman dressed in casual clothes - a black top and jeans. She also wears a silver ankh on a chain around her neck and has a marking similar to the eye of Horus around her right eye. She also held a dark umbrella in her left hand...which was actually her Scythe in disguise.
With her opening her eyes, Azrael wasn't prepared for what was about to come next.
"☠ Azrael, MY LITTLE ONE! ☠"
"☠ HOW I MISSED YOU SO MUCH ☠"
Azrael could not even respond when Death...literally embraced the Archangel of Death into tight hug, causing Azrael to feel...awkward. He was blushing madly from this... Thank Father that Uriel doesn't see him like this.
But Death is, in fact, the most chaotic and wholesome Primordial God. Unlike most depictions of Death, she is actually pleasant, down-to-earth, perky and enjoys the company of her siblings...Asherah, especially...despite that Azrael's mother doesn't like Aunt Death in the slightest...Goddess of Life, after all. And yet, Death was here when Asherah gave "life" to Azrael...and took a great amount of liking to him. Which is why she is very pleasant to him.
Their tender moment lasted for a minute as Azrael still...not feel used to this. But death would finally release him.
"☠ Let me guess, did your father send you here, Little Azy? Because I swear to my bony-bones, he rarely says hi to me these days. ☠"
"First off: Don't call me that way, Lady of Existence." Azrael asked kindly, but still went into uptight nature once more.
"☠ No promises, Little Azy. ☠" Death returned with a silly tone, causing for Azrael to roll his eyes, annoyed. "☠ Alright, alright. I will stop. Jee, no fun allowed, it seems to be. ☠"
Death would then warp herself, before reappearing once more, now sitting on the blank gravestone. "☠ So what about that "second off," Azrael? ☠"
"I was about to say that." Azrael murmured, before continuing. "No, the Lord didn't send me here, Lady Death."
"☠ Figures...☠" Death commented, swinging her left leg in the meantime. "☠ So what brings you here to my humble little realm? ☠"
"I-"
"☠ Wait! Let me guess instead. I do love some riddles! ☠" Death abruptly stopped Azrael with her finger. She then brought the same finger to her lip, thinking of possibilities. "☠ Hm, is it about Earth's getting destroyed? ☠ "
"No...it’s not even happening." Azrael responded blandly.
"☠ Okey-dookey...how about- ☠" Death then snaps her fingers. "☠ Something about Hell, right? ☠"
"Yep..." Azrael sighed.
"☠ Yay! Is about Lucifer?! ☠ "
"No."
"Your Reapness, I don't think-" Abaddon wanted to interject...only to be screamed for it.
"☠ Shut up, Abaddon: The Armless One! Here's a gravestone for you instead! ☠"
True to her word, Death then snapped her fingers. Abaddon heard something above as he looked up... before the entire gravestone with his name on it crashed on him, knocking him unconscious. These are a few instances when Death exhibits annoyance or anger. Though that in and of itself is a rarity, she becomes very intimidating. And that's why Azrael decided to play along with her riddle game.
"☠ So what was I saying?...Ah, yes. ☠" Death once again resumed. "☠ ...Is about Azazel? ☠"
"Correct." Azrael weakly nodded.
"☠ HA! I KNEW IT! ☠" Death exclaimed in delight, happy that she had won. "☠ So what's up with her? ☠"
"What's up with her?" Azrael repeated in a baffled tone. "Oh, I will tell you "what's up with her" , Lady Death. Because it turns out she is now in Hell!"
"☠ Well, yeah. Not the recent news, though. ☠" Death shrugged to that, not sure why Azrael really cares.
"She was sent to Dudael by us on purpose. And you released her?! Just like that?"
"☠ What are you talking about, Azrael? Your Father told me to release her. ☠" Death once again shrugged...still not understanding Azrael's anger.
"What?" Azrael repeated in confusion, blinking few times.
"☠ Alright, I get you: Yahweh did things and didn't told his children about it. Not the first time, though. ☠" Death would release a breath, deciding to drop her funsies for now as she then jumped out from the gravestone. "☠ So in short: Devil demanded me to release Azazel. I told your Father and Mother about it and they agreed with Devil's demands. Azazel was then freed from Dudael's shackles and into Devil's shackles instead. ☠"
Azrael still was baffled by this reasons. Azazel was the who corrupted Humanity by teaching them the arts of weapon making. She is responsible of Deluge in the first place...and Azrael's father still released her?!
"Why should I believe your words, Death?"
Death would just titled her head with "Are you serious" expression.
"☠ Hon, I'm not merciful or blessed. I'm just me: Death. I've got a job to do and I do it....When the first living thing existed, I was there. Waiting. When the last living thing dies, my job will be finished. I'll put the chairs on the tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave. So tell me - ☠"
"☠ Why should I lie? ☠"
Azrael still remained silent in response...but still not sure if he could believe it. But while he was still conflicted, Death would then come closer, bringing her arm and resting it on Azrael's shoulder.
"☠ My boy, here I thought you'd arrived here to seek my help against the Devil, not pester me about Azazel. ☠" Death commented warmly. Azrael looked at her and was about to ask before she interrupted him anyway, knowing what he was about to ask. "☠ Because your sister Uriel is playing a "Life and Death" game with her uncle Devil as of right now, Azy. ☠"
"She is what now?!" Azrael repeated in a baffled tone. He still felt her words to be ridiculous...and yet...it's Uriel, whom Death is speaking off...so it's possible. "Fantastic! The moment I leave her, trouble has already arrived for her!"
"☠ She had her reasons...I can't exactly blame her for it. ☠" Devil commented, sharing her opinion of this whole matter. Obviously as omnipotent being, her gaze was all around that is living.
Azrael still remained silent, thinking it trough. However, after a few minutes, his eyes would glance at her, considering the option. Death immediately grinned in response.
"☠ Let me guess: you need my help now. ☠" She mocked him slightly. Azrael immediately moved his eyes away, clearly hiding shame. "☠ Aww, look like you. You do care for your sister, don't you? ☠"
"We may fight a lot, but no one deserves to have their fate tied with the Devil."
"☠ Essentially: "Yes, Death. I care for my sister. Please help her, benevolent one. ☠" Death corrected his answer to be more appropriate and truthful.
"So will you help her or not?" Azrael grumbled, not wanting to play that game with her.
Death remained silent at first, grinning at Archangel. Ultimately, she will have an answer to him.
"☠ Ah, why not. ☠"
"☠ Might as well say hi to my brother ☠"
And true to her word
Death has arrived.
In fact, Devil really needs to improve his defense better. It was very easy for Death to "infiltrate" this mutual mind connection between Uriel and Devil. Clearly he has been slacking in that matter...seems this what happens when you're Lord Of The Sins and Sloth is one of the Deadly Ones.
"What do you want, Death?" The Devil muttered it like a vermin, still holding Uriel by her throat. The Devil took no pleasure in seeing her sister...though unlike Asherah and Yahweh, he didn't resent but still felt disgusted by her decision to support these two no matter what...even Primordial are not immune to their sibling's lies.
"☠ Oh you know...a little soul extraction here...then over there. You know it is. But I come for a reason, my Brother. ☠" Death makes few more steps, finally dropping that genuine smile into that very serious and threating manner.
"☠ Release ☠"
"☠ Uri ☠"
"☠ At Once ☠"
Devil only hummed at first, before confronting. "And why do you care for some Yahweh's creation to be alive? Once she dies, the rest of her essence goes to you by the agreement you and Him made."
"☠ That may be so, but unfortunately for you, her fate doesn't end here with you, Devil. She has a different purpose that she will play in the future. ☠"
Uriel blinked two times from hearing this. Ironically for her, those are nearly the same words God and Asherah told to Uriel...
"And If I refuse?" The Devil once again confronted.
Death chuckled at that, bringing and resting her umbrella on her own shoulder. "☠ Then you and I will have a little problem, Devil. Maybe, I can tell Asherah that you killed one of her children. You know what happens when Spirit of Life and Spirit of Death team up together...both Azathoth and your corrupted version of Humanity learned it quite well. ☠"
Devil remained silent to that, still giving a bland expression at his sister. He would then looked down at Uriel, who was trying to punch his hand off from her, while she gasped from pain. He would then raise her up, making Death fix her posture for "Primordial Asswooping time" But instead of Devil killing Light of God for good...He relaxed his hand and let her free.
Uriel immediately collapsed on the floor and breathed rapidly, coughing as well. Death's psychical form would warp closer, crouching to see how her brother's child is doing.
"☠ "Why hello there, Uri. Charming as ever. ☠"
"Death?...but h-how you...?" Uriel focused on the important question while still gasping and clutching her neck from the pain.
"☠ Azrael will explain...if his embarrassment won't prevent him from speaking openly. ☠"
Meanwhile, the Devil stood silently, looking at the burning heaven, the scenery remaining unchanged. He will eventually accept defeat and admit that he lost this round.
For the time being.
He'd then turn around and confront them, causing Uriel to clutch Death's arm, begging her to defend her. She is very exhausted from the fight, and only Death can save her...from death. But instead of attacking her, the Devil simply stared at her with disgust...until he had had enough of her presence.
"Remember me when the Bearer of Pride will -"
Burn
You
To
Ash
The Devil then snapped his fingers, putting an end to the nightmare for good.
Lower Heaven/Empyrean City/The Eye of Providence Headquarters.
Uriel once found herself in Eve's room. Even in the real world, she was exhausted and suffering from the Angel's equivalent of a headache, with her halo rapidly glowing. Ars Paulina will have to handle their responsibilities without her supervision for a short time.
The Holy Spirit would approach her slowly. Unlike her, he didn't appear tired. But Uriel knew that without his assistance, she wouldn't have lasted a minute before being corrupted into submission and demonhood.
"Thank you...for everything, my Lord." Uriel spoke weakly but managed to lift a smile for the pigeon. The Holy Spirit, however, would turn his head to where Uriel should look instead of thanking him. She did so...and regretted it immediately.
"Z-Zaddy?" Uriel expressed herself in horror.
Zadkiel laid on the floor, with her halo was also on the floor. Both Eve and some agents of E.O.P, surrounded Zadkiel's body as they waited for help to arrive. In the meantime, the First Woman held Zadkiel's hand and recited a prayer for God to have mercy...for Archangel of Mercy. Eve didn't know if it would work or not...but still did it out of love for Zadkiel.
Eve would look up and see that Uriel had returned to the real world. "Uri, oh my god. You're alive!"
Without wasting time, the First Woman immediately got up and helped Uriel get herself closer to Zadkiel, as she had a far better understanding of what was going on.
"Zaddy...no...just why?" Uriel drop herself on her knees, taking Zadkiel in her arms, and embrace her sister as she laid her head on Zadkiel's shoulder. She tried desperately, with all her strength, to hold back her tears...but fears of losing Zadkiel engulfed her mind. Once she lost many siblings to the Devil's hand...she won't want to lose Zadkiel as well.
"My lady, help has arrived!" One of the agents commented.
And true to his word, two exorcist-looking knights, wearing red knight overcoats with the red cross symbols on them, would storm into Eve's room. These two are Knights Hospitaller, another branch of the Main Exorcist Order.
While The Exorcist-Templars were the financiers and the Exorcist-Teutons were the elites of the Exorcist Order, the Hospitallers were instead dedicated to being Heaven's equivalent of the "Red Cross" organization. Primarily, they took care of the wounded exorcists after the purges and also served the common residents of Heaven with soul issues and more. Although rarely, they also participate as "Combat Medics" during the purges...commonly labeled "Apothecaries" by their brethren...or Trauma Knight.
"Please step aside, everyone! The Hospitaller Order will handle the rest!" One of the knights commanded while another rushed to Zadkiel's body. Uriel, of course, released Zadkiel from her embrace to allow Knight to do this job.
Knight-Apothecary grabbed a device scanner from his medical satchel, using it to scan Zadkiel's "presence of energy." Even behind their LCD masks, Uriel could feel how the Knights were horrified at seeing their leader's helper in this state.
"1 to 10: Critical Level" Knight commented to his colleague, seeing the results.
"Then there is nothing we could do here..." The other responded with a sigh.
"Where are you taking her then?" Eve asked.
"To Lord Raphael, my lady. You have the Archangel of Heling's oath that Zadkiel will be fine and well."
"Alright...take care of her." Uriel nodded, complying with the Knights.
The Two Knights deployed the emergency stretcher trolley and gently laid Zadkiel on it, also taking the Halo with them. And not wasting any precious time, they would immediately drag the trolley out of Eve's office and into the hallways of E.O.P headquarters, eventually reaching the emergency spacecraft outside that waited for the Knights.
Once they left, Eve would then break her silence, directing her attention at the other agents.
"Thank you two for your assistance."
"Of course, Mother Eve." One of the agents nodded before these two would leave the room, leaving Eve and Uriel with the Holy Spirit alone. Eve would then cross her arms and stare at the floor in a conflicted state...the pictures of Zadkiel just collapsing to the floor replayed in her mind.
"You were lucky, Uriel. You didin't see the worst of it. God, it was so horrifying to see her just dropping on the floor like this..."
"Then I was spared from a greater sorrow would have been far greater." Uriel returned it with a whisper, showing how also she is saddened by this...and it's her fault in the first place.
"After what happened to Zadkiel, I was worried it would eventually happen to you as well, Uriel." Eve scowled at Uriel's response...before just giving up with her emotion containment and embracing Urel in a tight hug. "Goddamn you, Uriel! I was so worried...I just..I-"
"I know, hon. I know..." Uriel returned, not needing for Eve to express herself.
"Right...okay." Eve nodded, before releasing Uriel from the embrace. She adjusted her emotions and gestured with her head at the couch. "Here, let me help you get comfortable."
"Thank you, hon." Uriel smiled with a nod...rest is what she needs right now.
Eve would once again assist Uriel in getting onto the couch. After that, Eve would join her...as would Holy Spirit, because someone's company is amazing to him.
"So what happened?" Eve asked.
"It was a trap all along," Uriel began, taking the Holy Spirit onto her lap to caress the Spirit's head in the meantime. "The Devil used The Exorcists to bait us into rescuing them, trapping us with him; even Zadkiel was just a bait for me, as he tried to make her relieve that memory...where treacherous angels nearly violated her."
"Jesus..." Eve muttered, wondering if there is a line where the Devil does not do fucked up things.
"Then he tried to tempt me, pretending that he wanted to fix creation... and he used you as an attempt to persuade me."
"Clearly, he failed in that." Eve slowly nodded, following Uriel's explanations. "Then what happened?"
"We fought...The Devil proved to be an unstoppable force...even if he was stuck in the Ninth Ring. With Zadkiel's sacrifice, I managed to destroy his deceiver form...only to reappear once more. Then, and you will be laughing, but...I was rescued by Death."
"...You mean Death saved your life?" Eve also sounded confused with the question.
"Yeah, she appeared and threatened the Devil with a fight if he didn't release me. He complied and...well I'm here now."
"So...you have won...right?" Eve asked unsurely.
Uriel cast a glance at Eve, revealing her uncertainty. Even after fulfilling Lucifer's agreement, she is unsure whether it was worthwhile.... The Devil knew everything from the beginning and orchestrated almost everything in his favor.
And the question is, were these the Devil's plans all along?
*Beep*
Eve's terminal made a beep sound, gaining her attention.
"That's must Alpha Squad." Eve commented as she stood up, walking up to her desk and taking it's seat, putting on her headphones and accepting the call. "Alpha Squad, this is E.O.P. Please respond."
"Mother, it's Aclima." Aclima's voice sounded in her headphones, causing for Eve to sigh in relief.
"Thank God, Aclima. We lost your communications a while ago. What happened?"
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/The City of Dis Enclave/The Basilica of Our Dark Lord and His Anti-Christ
"Stage two is a complete failure. Omega Squad was destroyed by...a noble demon." Aclima had to keep it a secret because she didn't want Eve to know about her encounter...with Cain.
"What about Alpha?"
"I retreated through the sewers and traveled to their previous location. I discovered them unconscious in the hall, but they are all alive and well."
Grandmaster Aclima then cast a glance at Jeanne, who was still resting on the cold floor of the basilica's main halls. She did, however, give a thumbs up, indicating that she is fine. Meanwhile, Miu Ogawa is attempting to awaken Aikaterine, who, along with Rönne, is the only one who is still unconscious.
"Got it. Don't waste time in Dis and get out of the Capital. Abel reports that he still needs time to get here."
"You sure the purge is necessary here? This is becoming far too dangerous."
"I don't like it any more than you do, Aclima, but it's Azrael's direct order. We can't say no, or else our mutual cooperation with the Exorcist Order will come to an end."
"Politics...How typical." Aclima muttered to herself before exhaling. "All right, we're starting the evacuation with Alpha Squad."
Aclima hung up the commlink and approached Jeanne. She'd extend her augmented hand to her.
"Can you walk?"
"Yeah...just tired, Grandmaster." Jeanne returned, taking her hand in hers, and rose to her feet. Miu Ogawa also woke up Aikaterine and Rönne. Rönne, in particular, rubbed his LCD mask before inspecting his surroundings, noting a disturbing scene. There were many demon bones and skulls all around them...just lying on the floor.
"Did we go too far with them?"
"No, I have standards, too..." Aikaterine chuckled and walked up to assist him as well.
"But what happened to them?" Rönne took her hand in his and rose to his feet.
"I was wondering it as well." Grandmaster Aclima chimed in. "Because these bones were already there when I arrived. Either you slaughtered them all with such zeal, or something else happened that I'm unaware of."
The Exorcists exchanged glances, wondering if anyone had an answer. But, in the end, no one remembered anything. For them, everything after killing Iblis has become hazy.
"Last I remember, we...killed Iblis...and then, for some reason, I was back in Rouen, Grandmaster Aclima, before seeing your visor as you woke me up." Jeanne spoke up in a hushed tone.
"Yeah, I remember that...Iblis was dead...and I was in Thessaloniki at the time." Aikaterine was also added. "This does not sit well with me. Either it's a coincidence or something sinister is going on."
"You can presume later, Alpha. We still need to escape this cursed city." Grandmaster spoke up, still priotizing Eve's instructions.
"Right, how is the situation outside, ma’am?" Jeanne inquired.
"I'm afraid they're already aware of the Exorcist's presence. If they haven't discovered my squad's bodies yet, they will be their clues of our presence. We may face extreme opposing force as we flee."
"So, what's the plan?" Jeanne inquired once more...now that Aclima has taken over Alpha Squad's leadership. Obliviously as Grandmaster, Aclima's voice and command is order to all of them.
"We use the same method that brought you here in the first place: sewers. Back in the Treasury Chamber, there is a hole that leads directly into old mine shafts, which lead into the sewers from which I came. We gather our equipment in your makeshift camp and blend in with the sinners before Abel and his Legion arrive. The mission will then be completed."
"Works for me...I really need a bath." Aikaterine muttered to herself.
"And we will pick Mr. Hazbin and Marsella up, ma'am?" Rönne added.
"Yes, just as we planned back in HQ." Aclima nodded before addressing the rest. "Any questions?"
"So what happened with Omega, Granmaster?" Jeanne was the one to ask.
"They got all killed, I'm afraid. A very powerful prince of Inferno set a trap in one of the Stygian Council's chambers. Caught off guard the rest of us...even me." Aclima had to lie once more...it was best not to aggravate the situation. However, she began to notice strange sounds coming from above.
"But they were the finest knights. Who could have made-"
Aclima quickly shushed Jeanne, before pointing up at the celling. "You hear this too?"
The entire Exorcist team fell silent and listened to their surroundings. Jeanne's hearing was also focused. If her assumption is correct, she hears many clanking sounds of armored footsteps above them.
And Helicopter!?
"We've got hostiles incoming! Assume defensive positions!" Jeanne warned.
The Exorcists moved quickly, taking defensive positions around the perimeter: Aikaterine with Rönne and Miu Ogawa with Jeanne and Grandmaster Aclima Primis. Based on the likelihood of an impending attack. The hostiles enter through the church's glass windows and entrance. So their main grinder will be located above and in front of them.
"Overwatch, possible Demonic Incursion on our Sector Grid, permission to switch to "Control" mode, over." Jeanne informed Heaven's AI Operator, using the Exorcist's commlink.
"Authorization accepted. All Exorcist units in vicinity stand by for engagement. Code: regroup, formation, control."
Author: I recommend either "Sweat", "Code Silver 2018" or "Something Wicked Something Wicked This Way Comes" for what next will happen ;) (Although any music from that game is suitable for the next scene)
"Affirmative, Overwatch. On standby."
Jeanne then checked her SMG's ammo. There are still a few mags left, but whether that is enough is a difficult question. The rest of the Exorcists also readied their weapons, double-checked their ammo, and cocked their weapons as they waited for hostile forces to engage them. The atmosphere is tense...even Aikaterine's left hand shook slightly in stress, and Exorcist Deadeye noticed...might as well break the silence before they face their doom.
"You know...If our Overwatch will one day go haywire and sing daisies in the comms...my existence shall be completed." Rönne muttered in the commlink. Even to this day, he has never liked Overwatch's robotic voice.
"Ah, a comedic relief! Just what we need right now, Deadeye!" Aikaterine returned with a chuckle...though she loved to hear it too.
"Cut the chatter, you two!" Aclima demanded, while Jeanne sighed in relief—at least she no longer had to deal with these two and their games for now on.
Above them, more and more footsteps could be heard, along with the sounds of ziplines. Obviously some sort of Hell's Special Forces... Despite popular belief, Hell fights the Heaven's Purges in the other Rings, with the exception of The Pride Ring. And, given that this is Hell's capital and the home of Demonkind, Alpha Squad expects Hell to give them their best.
"Attention Extermination Team leader."
"Overwatch acknowledges activity."
"Confirm grid sector zero-two, possible demonic interference."
"Sweep sector, report containment status."
"Your heard our Overwatch, any second now!" Jeanne forewarned her squadmates. Above, she can see the silhouettes on the Church's Glass Windows assuming their positions for the breach...looks like it's about to start...
...
...
....
....
"Give them the real meaning of Hell, my brothers in Knighthood!"
The first to go were smoke and flash grenades, briefly filling the main hall with gray fog. Then the glass windows shattered, letting in Hell's forces like rats.
"Thermal Visions now!" Jeanne ordered, waiting for the opportunity to fire back.
The Exorcists activated their thermal vision, allowing them to see their enemies through the thick fog. According to their observations, their adversaries are high-end military forces comprised primarily of Imps of Wrath and the vampiric versions of them from the Ring of Blasphemy. Their tactics and fighting style were similar to that of Exorcists, going from cover to cover, not rushing, and using every opportunity to change tactics if the situation changed.
Despite this, the Exorcists had both technological and physical advantages. Heaven's Knights retaliated, hitting and killing many of them. And yet the enemy's reinforcements continued to pour in; the sheer size of the assault forces revealed it's purpose.
It was a special military operation.
As bullets were exchanged, the fog also began to spread out to reveal the enemies. And Jeanne was right: Their enemies are Hell's Special Forces, equipped in combat vests and helmets with green-lensed gas masks and urban camouflage battle dress uniforms with Beelzebub's symbols on their shoulder pads.
Their equipment is reengineered. Submachine guns and assault rifles with grenade launchers were disassembled and reforged as the cursed version of Heaven's weapons. But some are also equipped with shotguns. This is not the first time that exorcist legions, especially the Greed Ring Legion, have encountered them. Jeanne had a lot of debriefing back in Heaven about special forces that combat the Purges. Hence, she knew who they were dealing with.
"Aclima, what in God's name is happening down there!?" Eve once again called in their commlink.
"Militech got us pinned!" Aclima returned, jerking his head down when the bullet nearly hit him.
"Then get the hell out of here as fast as you can, now! Don't waste your time with Militech!"
"We will try!" Aclima returned, still busy trying not to get hit by the mercenaries.
The Ring of Greed's personal corporate forces moved closer, using distraction tactics to pin others with suppressive fire while the rest moved in to flank the exorcists.
" *Kh* Move in and takedown the Maskies! Unleash "The Bane of Limbo" on their asses! *Kh* " The Leader of the corpo assault team commanded.
Militech troopers on the upper floors began firing grenades from their grenades launchers onto the first floor at his command. They weren't smoke or flash grenades, but they were far more dangerous than regular grenades.
The Hell's own Toxic Mustard Gas.
The gas quickly spread like wildfire. Unlike the Militech forces, who are all wearing gas masks for this anti-purge operation, Rönne's eye is visible through his cracked LCD visor, while Aclima's visor is cracked enough for the gas to leak inside his mask. If the gas comes into contact with their skin, it could cause serious harm. As a result, it's no longer a priority defense but a full-fledged retreat. Not to mention how the assault escalated.
"JESUS, HOW MANY ARE OF THEM!?" Rönne exclaimed, hiding his head behind the church pew from the gunfight.
"ENOUGH TO GIVE US OUR ANNUAL PURGE QUOTA!" Aikaterine returned it, firing from the grenade launcher.
Even as the Exorcists dealt out massive casualties to Militech and successfully defended the post, an increasing number of Militech's troopers joined the assault on the basilica. Worse yet, riot shield-wielding Militech soldiers would arrive, providing cover and shattering the Exorcist's safe zone. And just as the Devil was about to punish them even more, a heavily armored soldier from head to toe with a minigun from head to toe would arrive. The bullets that struck him completely ricocheted off his armor.
" *Kh* You're against the wall and I'm a fucking wall! *Kh* " Armored Militech laughed as he raised and aimed his minigun at them, spraying bullets at them at a rapid pace.
"Scourge, provide us with cover or something to deal with Heavy Gunner! We're abandoning the hall and retreating back into inner hallways!"
"Yes, ma’am!" Aikaterine gave a nod. She took out her bag and tossed a satchel charge at the column before detonating it.
The explosion caused some columns to collapse and the entire second floor to collapse, resulting in a great deal of dust and distraction. Taking advantage of the situation, The Exorcists with Grandmaster Aclima began to retreat back, providing cover for their backs before fleeing into the same hallway they had previously breached.
Some Militech mercenaries wasted no time and tried to stop them by running after them. The rest of them remained in the main hall for the time being, securing the perimeter. The commander of the corpo Assault team would emerge from his cover and turne on his radio on his chest.
" *Kh* Red Crown, this is Gluttony-1. Maskies retreated to in to deeper section of the Basilica. Request additional support to our sector. *Kh* "
"Affirmative, Gluttony-1. Reminder that survivors and witnesses of Exterminator's purge, including Chancellor of Hell, must be eradicated. Please handle the situation with extreme care. Failure is not an option. Glory to Eternal Inferno."
" *Kh* Acknowledge, Red Crown. Glory to Eternal Inferno, over. *Kh* " The Commander then switched to the local channel and gestured at specific group of Marines. "*Khh* Delta-2 Squad, on me. *Khhh* "
The Trio Militech mercenaries, all Imps from the wrath, would come up and salute to their commander.
" *Khh* New orders, boys. Pursue and secure Central Wing. If you see the Exorcists, you have permission to kill them on sight. Any questions? Khhh* "
" *Khhh* No, sir! *Khhh* "
" *Khhh* Good...move out. Khhh* "
All of the remaining Militech forces assigned to operation moved forward, each with their own orders to secure different wings of the Basilica. The Militech squad moved out as well to the deeper into hallways. Exorcists were no longer here but even then the sounds of gunfire engulfed all around the hallways. There is chance that there are more Exorcists inside the Basilica, considering what happened in the Stygian Council a bit earlier.
" *Khhh* Look at this... *Khhh*" One of Delta Squad members commented, walking to a pile of bones and skull and crouching down. " *Khhh* My Devil, these rodents cleaned every blood out of them...poor bastard. *Khhh* "
" *Khhh* And we have to silence them too..." Another responded, before sighing. " *Khhh* Man, I didn't sign on for this shit. Exterminators, sure, but our own just because they were in wrong place at wrong time? Who ordered this operation anyway? *Khhh* "
" *Khhh* Either you shut up, Quiery. Or go back to complain to our Commander. *Khhh* "
" *Khhh* Try me, you little bi - *Khhh*"
*Khhh* Shh...hear that?" *Khhh* Another Militech squad member stopped them by showing his palm and making a quiet listening sign. They all focused their hearing and discovered that the screams of their fallen Marines could be heard not far away....from the left. " *Khhh* Yep that's them! Let's get these bastards! *Khhh*"
*In The Meantime*
" *Kh* We-will-kick-your-ass! *Kh* " Militech trooper fired blindly from the cover, suppressing the Exorcists while the rest of the reinforcements arrived.
"Eat a Devil's Dick, asshole!" Aikaterine returned it, firing at that corporate trooper before reloading her automatic pistol. The same enemy soldier used the opportunity to pull out his grenade, unpin it, and leave the cover to throw at them. But Exorcist Deadeye fired his revolver right into the Militech trooper's helmet, piercing it and killing him. The dead body released the grenade, causing it to explode and kill the remaining Militech troopers.
"Phew, coast is clear for now." Aikaterine notified.
"The Explosion will gain their attention." Jeanne returned it, before addressing to the rest. "These bastards are relentless. How much further, Grandmaster?"
"Just around the corner. We should-"
" *Kh* Targets located, East Wing! *Kh*
Exorcist Deadeye turned around and fired his revolver again, silencing that corpo soldier. However, the rest of the Militech assault forces took cover.
"Provide us with cover!" Grandmaster commanded Rönne.
While the rest of the exorcists, including Aclima, ran further into the distance, Aikaterine and Rönne continued to provide cover, following them behind. They would eventually reach the stairwells leading to the Treasury Chambers, with Militech forces still pursuing them, depriving them from any time outs. Even as they descended into the chamber, Aikaterine and Rönne kept a wave from entering inside.
"Here is the hole. it should lead us into sewer. After that we go into the right tunnel." Aclima pointed at the pathway from the broken wall.
The Exorcists wasted no time and jumped right into it. Still Militech continued to pursue them into the mine shafts. Eventually, as they fought in the mineshafts, the Exorcists came across two tunnels leading in opposite directions.
"Scourge, Deadeye. How is the situation on your end?"
"Pretty bad, waves and waves of them!" Rönne returned it while fighting off Militech forces.
"And they're not getting off from our tail! We will lead them into our camp if we don't do anything about them!" Aikaterine was also added, still providing cover.
Jeanne sighed and shook her head. She doesn't want them to put her in that situation...but she also doesn't have time to plan.
"Keep the ground until we escort our Grandmaster to safety. Make certain they don't notice us entering the correct tunnel. We will get back to you as soon as we are finished!"
"Aye-Aye, good luck out there, ma’am!"
With a nod, both Jeanne and Samurai Miu, as well as Aclima, would run into the correct tunnel, disappearing from their sight.
"Looks it's you and me now...what a pair to the end." Aikaterine muttered, reloading her pistol.
"It reminds me of what happened in 1963. It was nearly the same situation, with the exception that it was Legionnaires of Satan." Rönne returned it, leaving the cover open to fire at Militech forces in tunnels.
"Yeah, they tough bastards. You think-"
*Bam*
Turns out, one of his bullets managed to pierce Aikaterine's left hip.
"Allah damm, [beep] !!!" Aikaterine screamed as she collapsed, clutching her wound.
"Kate!" Rönne exclaimed.
" *Kh* I got you, you smiley bastard! *Kh* " Militech trooper laughed.
Rönne reacted quickly, remembering the hostiles, and fired his revolver, striking that Militech soldier right in the eye. To him, death was an instant. Another one reached for his body and dragged him out of the firefight, checking his condition...and indicating his death with a military hand sign.
"How bad?!" Rönne crouched down to check on her.
"Pretty bad!" Aikaterine grifted her teeth behind her mask. "I swear I will bomb the [beep] out of this place!"
"Scourge, this is Maid. Your vital signs went yellow. What happened?!" Jeanne also called out their mutual commlinks.
"Got hit, but I'm fine!"
"Cancel your defense and return to us! We'll deal with them all together!"
"They’re probably crawling on the surface. Just leave without us. I'll distract them with Deadeye to give you some time."
"Scourge, this is suicide! You heard what I said!"
"Just believe me, Ma'am. I have a strategy for dealing with them. Just leave, we'll find you later."
"...No heroics under my command, Scourge. You heard me!"
"Of course, ma'am!" Aikaterine closed the link before slowly getting on her knees "Rönne, come on. I have a plan."
"What the hell are you doing, Kate?" Rönne questioned her as well, feeling that nothing good would come of it.
"Remember when Phenex said Dis was built beneath the old Dark Materium mines? That was going to be our exit ticket. Come on, let me show you."
Aikaterine would get up and run, still clutching her wound. Rönne provided her with cover as they retreated into the left tunnel, which leads to a different path from the main sewers. The Exorcists retreated deeper into old mines until they discovered a central hub with many mineshaft tunnels leading in various directions. There is also a utility Elevator, which should take them to the exit.
"There, Rönne!" Aikaterine pointed to large Dark Materium piles on the rock walls. "Here is my plan: I'm blowing this Cathedral to Kingdom Come, bringing it down with the rest of these guys. It is a viable distraction for us to escape while they are busy sending everything they got here!"
"That's insane, Kate!"
"If you believe it is insane, Rönne. Then give me another way to get out of here alive without these guys chasing us around the Ring of Blasphemy!"
"I'm not aware of any!"
"Then shut up and cover me while I set up charges!"
"Kate, it's-" Rönne was about to respond, but he had to duck his head and cover himself against the rocks as Militech soldiers arrived and began firing again. Meanwhile, Aikaterine took the explosive charges from her bag and began to set them up on the Dark Materium chunks, 5 should do the trick.
"Come on, Kate!" Rönne exclaimed, still defending Kate from the attackers.
"Just one more." Aikaterine returned it, placing the last charge and typing the code. "There, we can-"
Aikaterine was hit right in the shoulder once more, causing her to scream in pain. Rönne quickly crawled up to her, grabbed the grenade from her satchel, and hurled it at the Militech soldiers, killing five of them.
"Don't you worry, Kate. Come on, I will take you to the apothecary." Rönne reassured her, ready to grab her hand and drag her to the surface, only for her to reveal her palm.
"No, Rönne. Take the elevator and run as fast as you can to our squad!"
"What?! You can't be serious?" Rönne's tone was angry, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Look at me..." Aikaterine clutched her wound, grifting in pain for a second before gathering strength to speak further. "I will only slow you down..."
"Jeanne said no heroics, Kate! And you too-"
"I'm not doing this for the glory. I'm doing this to give you a chance to get out of here with Mr. Hazbin and fight another day. Please, Rönne...I don't want to drag you into grave with me...do this for me."
"Don't do this, Kate... I lost Vera once...not you too." Rönne begged her, his exposed eye revealing how much he cared for her.
At first, Aikaterine sighed...with no response. She would summon her wings and rip the feather out before making them disappear, leaving only the feather.
"When you and I are initiated into knighthood, we take an oath. I swore to my Archangel and to Allah...and as I enlisted for this mission, I was aware of the dangers..." Aikaterine would then offer him her feather. "I knew one day, sooner or later, I would give my life so that Heaven and Earth could sleep peacefully... and that time has come for me."
Still silently staring, Rönne would finally take her feather...accepting her decision. His exposed eye still teared up. In one final comfort, she will bring her hand to his shoulder, squeezing it.
"Promise me one thing, Rönne. When the time will come: finish this fight...and let our sacrifices since Limbo's fall not to be vain."
No response came from him as his exposed eye looked down, closed for a second before it opened with far more determined look...it wasn't his first time loosing someone so close to him...
"...I'm so sorry, Kate." It's the only thing Rönne managed to mutter.
"So am I, my friend." Kate smiled in response...it's a damn shame he can't see her face.
" *Kh* We found them! *Kh* "
"WE WERE HAVING A TENDER MOMENT OVER HERE, YOU BASTARDS!" Aikaterine didn't waste a second as she turned around and fired her pistol at that one Militech soldier, killing him instantly. The rest of Militech corporate forces dispersed and assumed their covers, firing back at the two Exorcist's positions.
"Kate, it's-" Rönne wanted to help her out, only to get the opposite response that he wanted.
"GO ALREADY!" Kate focused her fire, providing opportunity for Rönne to slip away. Knowing Aikaterine, there was no point of arguing, hence Rönne crawled back to his cover before using the moment to leave it and begin his retreat.
" *Kh* There on the left! *Kh* " One of Militech soldiers pointed at Rönne as he is running towards the mineshaft elevator.
"Leave him alone, you assholes!" Aikaterine screamed back, even though they didn't hear her. She stood up and fired her pistol at the Militech forces, forcing them to take cover once more while she facilitated Rönne's escape. Thanks to Kate, Rönne was able to enter the old elevator, pressing the up button. The elevator, it turned out, was still operational, allowing him to ascend.
"Come on, come on." Rönne adjusted his communication link as quickly as possible before pushing a button on his wrist PDA to place the call. "Mr. Hazbin, come in. You there?"
"My boy, I say! We were worried! You wouldn't believe what's going on outside!" Mr. Hazbin's voice echoed in his earset.
"Yes, I have already witnessed it! Can you see the dark iron tower? Bring yourself and Marsella to it and wait there. I'll find you."
"What about the rest of your team?"
"More on that later. Just be there, okay?"
"Okay...stay safe, my boy."
"No promises..." Rönne sighed, ending the commlink.
The elevators would come to a halt and open their doors, allowing Rönne to exit and escape into deeper tunnels. He'd eventually see the light at the end of the tunnel, relieved that he'd escaped Dis City. But as soon as he exited the tunnel, he found himself on the edge of the slope, with a crucial landmark of the entire Inferno in front of him.
Malebolge
Malebolge is a large, funnel-shaped cavern, itself divided into ten concentric circular trenches or ditches that look like a round quarry. At the center of Malebolge is a crater hole that leads to the ninth and final ring of hell.
"Holy...it's so deep." Rönne looked down, seeing nothing but a black void...it even felt as if the void stared back at him. It seems the rumors of the nightmare that is Ninth Ring were true.
He noticed a cargo elevator to the left, which appears to be used for transporting resource extraction equipment down to different levels of ditches. Rönne wasted no time, walking to the elevator and pressing another button, causing the elevator cargo to rise.
Rönne took advantage of the opportunity to sit on the cold metal floor of the elevator. He was still exhausted from the entire battle. Sinners are ten times easier to fight than these forces... The Pride Legion is extremely fortunate in that they have the easiest and most enjoyable time of all. The Exorcist expected the journey to the surface to be the end of his ordeal, but he knew it is only the beginning.
Sirens engulfed Pandemonium, much like when the Purge occurs in Pentagram City. Obviously, the entire capital was aware of the Exorcist's presence, and Militech forces made certain that they were stopped once and for all.
While the Elevator continued to rise, Rönne gripped his Carmine blessed riffle, counting his bullets and returning them to his bandolier. He slid the bullet back onto the weapon, as he had been taught a few decades ago in some standard Exorcist training. Knowing what awaits him on the surface, he resolves to move as quickly as his endurance will allow and to return fire.
Someone is speaking somewhere above him. They do not appear to be friendly. If the Militech soldiers were coming down from the entrance, there must be many more outside. Can his armor withstand that much fire? He's not entirely sure. No Exorcist, he suspects. His armor is built to withstand close-range lab explosions, pressurized environments, Hell's radiation, extreme heat and cold, and a limited amount of small arms fire.
But should he die, he will make sure that he takes out as much as possible while he can...they will pay for Aikaterine's sacrifice.
And so...a s the Elevator stopped, h e released a breath, o pened his eyes a nd saw two Militech corporate soldiers immediately noticing his presence.
" WE GOT HOSTILES! "
Rönne let his presence as he fired two rounds at two of them, killing them immediately. The rest of Militech troopers didn't waste any second and engaged back against Exorcist. The firefight ensued on the outside now. As Rönne exchanged the bullets with Militech. He noticed how the demonized military assault helicopter flew above the Square. It turned on a searchlight, directing it at that Exterminator's position.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Rönne cursed. Just what he needed right now.
"*Kh* This is Damnation-14. Ready to support the ground forces. *Kh* The Militech Imp Pilot informed on the radio, flipping the switches to turn on the rocket weapon mode.
Seeing that it was targeting him, Rönne ran like hell, firing his rifle at Militech forces and using the Dis's building as cover away from that Chopper's weapons. The demonized military assault helicopter pursued him and sent the rockets to Rönne's position, oblivious to the buildings' state. But thankfully, the tight corridors with barely any sky openings greatly helped him avoid its minigun and missile strikes.
At the same time as the fight occurred on the surface, Aikaterine defended her position from Militech troopers inside the mines. However, after Rönne left, the fight did not go in her favor. She was shot twice more, weakening her ability to fight back against the wave of marines.
"Your vitals are dropping, Scourge! We're on our way to get you!" Jeanne's voice sounded insider her earset.
"No! I sent Deadeye to retrieve Mr. Hazbin and Marsella. Run as far away from Dis as you can. I know exactly what I need to do!"
"I don't like your tone, Scourge! Whatever you're planning, cancel it immediately. I said no heroics!"
"Sorry, ma'am. But I have to disobey the order!" Aikaterine returned it, closing the channel and retaliating against the Militech troopers.
"Scourge! Scourge, respond! Talk to me, Goddammit!" Jeanne's voice still called out, trying to reason with her. Aikaterine, on the other hand, did not respond, instead firing her pistol at marines.
But Hell's forces fought back with good vigor. One of the marines peaked out from the cover and managed to hit her right in the arm. Aikaterine nearly dropped her pistol after being hit by a bullet yet again. Still with some strength left, she raised and aimed her pistol, only for one of the Militech troopers to fire the entire magazine at her. Finally, she fell to the floor from all of those gunshots....
The Militech forces and the Trio of the Delta Squad surrounded her quickly. Aikaterine was still twitching from the pain and blood loss..but she managed to grab something very important before they noticed it.
" *Kh* What did our contract say about taking prisoners? *Kh* " the Militech trooper asked his comrades, not sure if there was anything written about it.
*Click*
*Beep...Beep*
The Militech troopers quickly aimed their weapons at her. Aikaterine had the detonator in her hand...already pressed.
"I don't take prisoners..." Aikaterine smiled behind her mask...for the last time.
*Kaboom*
The Scourge's charges exploded, sending flames flying in all directions. Every time the flames touched the Dark Materium ore, they exploded, causing a chain reaction of explosions throughout the mineshaft and treasury chamber. Even outside, where Rönne was fighting off the marines, the massive explosion emitted by the cathedral caused some Marines to lose their footing and fall to the floor...
But it didn't stop there. The explosions inside the mines caused underground instability and a massive earthquake. It was powerful enough to cause the entire cathedral to collapse, starting with Iblis' Dark Tower and then spreading to the rest of the cathedral. Even the Malebolge were affected, and the crater began to grow in size. Dis City's concrete began to crack and collapse into the Ninth Ring of Hell. Some Militech forces also perished in the crater. Even the assault helicopter was also hit by the tower's chunks, damaging its engines.
" *Kh* Mayday, Mayday. I'm losing con- *Kh* "
Corporal Shephy quickly ducked his head as the spinning helicopter nearly hit him and crashed not far away, severely damaging the ground and sending the ruined helicopter down into Malebolge. The quakes didn't stop here, as the ground cracks are approaching the corporal's position. The corporal ran away from the quakes, but they still caught up with him. When he realized it was too late, the Corporal jumped as the ground collapsed on him, reaching his hand out to grab the newest edges of the far-extended Malebolge.
The earthquake had thankfully stopped by this point, preventing him from collapsing like so many of his comrades...poor bastards. Rönne clung to the nearest lamppost in the entire chaos before rising to his feet and witnessing the aftermath. Aikaterine has officially destroyed Catherdal, leaving almost nothing standing...
...
"Overwatch, status report on Exorcist Unit AB-XIX11." Rönne spoke weakly. The German Gunslinger then took out the feather she gave to him and just stared at it in the silent, waiting response.
"Exorcist Unit AB-XIX11, Codename "Scourge", Status: Pending."
"Designate a new status for Exorcist Unit AB-XIX11: K.I.P" Rönne muttered... as tears began to trail down from his exposed eye.
"Affirmative, applying necessary benefits to the Aikaterine Begun's family. On standby."
"Understood." Rönne sighed, placing her feather back into his satchel.
The Exorcist wasted no time and walked away from the ruins. He would reach to the small walls that separated Dis from the Pandemonium. Since the Gates were closed, he entered the tower instead, used the stairways to reach the second floor, and jumped out the window and landing on the pile of snow, finally escaping from a completely ruined Dis.
Now in the streets of Pandemonium, Rönne finally removed his helmet and cracked Exorcist visor, looking left and right.
"Where are you, Mr. Hazbin?" He muttered to himself, worried that Militech forces would see him flee.
Mr. Hazbin's truck, thankfully, would arrive, making a sharp turn and stopping near Rönne, with the French merchant jumping out and not bothering to turn off the engines.
"Mr. Hazbin, I-"
The Frenchman interrupted by embracing Rönne into tight hug. "Oh my goodness gracious, my boy. You should have seen my face when the tower caught fire."
"Yeah...thanks," Rönne said weakly, despite the fact that he felt it should have been him on that tower.
Marsella would also approach Rönne and hug his hips without saying anything because...English is not her strongest language.
"But where is the rest...where is Aikaterine?" Mr. Hazbin added, still not understanding what happened.
"All fine while Aikaterine...she...well-"
Rönne couldn't hold back his tears as they began to fall again. Mr. Hazbin recognized it right away...now he knows why the cathedral caught fire.
"It's okay...we're here." Mr. Hazbin cooed, gently placing his hand on Rönne's shoulder. "Come on, we shouldn't be here. It will only aggravate your pain."
With a simple but feeble nod, Rönne would follow Mr. Hazbin and Marsella, taking a seat in the center while Marsella sat on the left, closing the door. The Frenchman shifted the stick to second gear, steered his wheel, and turned the truck around, driving away from the Dis's vicinity. The weather has at least eased up, with very light snow falling from the skies. Mr. Hazbin greatly appreciates the timing. As the capital lost all of its electricity, the roads were pitch black, with only his truck and the rest of the demonic cars as sources of light. If it had been snowing more frequently, it would have been far worse.
Silence engulfed the truck's interior as Mr. Hazbin focused his attention on the road while Marsella looked behind, just to be sure they were not being followed. Rönne, on the other hand...
Poor lad.
...
We appear to have come full circle.
Back at Heaven and before this whole ordeal, Mr. Hazbin and Rönne visited the cemetery, dedicated to exorcists who perished during the Purge. As they drove to the cemetery, the atmosphere was very similar to the current one. Mr. Hazbin could not exactly fathom how he handles all that stress. Since the start, his friend has lost his lover, his old squad and now Aikaterine...
"I know I didn't have the opportunity to get to know her better..." Mr. Hazbin broke the silence, causing Rönne to look at him. "But, you know, losing her is just... feels wrong."
Rönne would sigh and return his gaze to the passing building. And just like back in Heaven, he knows his friend tries to cheer him up.
"With every purge, more and more I wonder if this fight is even worth it..." Rönne muttered it, making a little shake of his head. "How many of my Siblings in Exorcism will have to be sacrificed in order to win this Long War? We curtail the Sinner's population and sometimes the Hellborn's once a year...but everyday that the Hell grows stronger. I'm afraid the purges are just a temporary solution...things might get worse."
Mr. Hazbin didn't respond, deep in thought, so the silence engulfed inside the truck once more. It would be at least a few minutes before he broke it again.
"I don't know if it helps, but...I do think it’s imprinted in us to care about the outcome of our actions. For me, it does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop, dear boy. Even the tide can be a victory against something that can be seen as unstoppable.”
"And what about your own son, Herr Hazbin? Don't tell me you prefer not to know the fate of your son in here..."
"...Hope dies last, my boy. I'm not giving up hope of seeing him one day. You once told me you wished things were different. And so do I...it inspires me to look ahead."
"We all do..." Rönne nods slowly. "We all do in these times..."
Again, silence was emitted, and they were soon approaching Pandemonium's main bridge. Once they pass, it won't be long enough for them to reach back to Sinner's Ghetto.
*Ring*
Rönne quickly accepted the call on his earset. "Yes?"
"Deadeye, this is the Maid of Orleans calling...what's Aikaterine's status?"
"She is...now in God's presence I'm afraid, ma’am."
"Thank you...needed the confirmation of her fate. I...I have decided to vouch for her to earn the posthumous medal for her dedication to the Order." Jeanne then makes a pause before explaining further. it appears she was also devastated by this...they all were. "How is your status on your part?"
"We are getting near the "Bridge of Eternal Pandemonium," which should be a 10-minute drive to the Ghetto."
"Good, we have a change of plans. Within the next 20 minutes, the rest of our legion provide us support. So our plan with blending with the Sinners is scrapped. There is also one more thing. Back at camp, we could not find your equipment. We suspect it has been stolen..."
"Stolen!?? But who could have -" The German exorcist quickly shut himself up as he got an idea of who it might be. With the exception of Alpha Squad, there is only one person who was present in their camp. "It was the Marquis, isn't it?!"
"I also presume that's her. Once we are back at Heaven, I will file a complaint with E.O.P about this. They will, hopefully, get to the bottom of this. But in the meantime, reach for the Ghetto, and we'll meet you there."
"Understood, ma’am." Rönne would end the call before dropping his head against the seat's pillow, groaning. "Amazing...that was my mortal life's rancher hat..."
"What happened, dear boy?" Mr. Hazbin asked, wondering what the commotion was.
"It's a long story, but we had inside help with dubious loyalty and goals... and now she appears to have stolen my equipment."
" *Tsk* Well that's not lady-like behavior..." Mr. Hazbin chuckled to himself, remembering how he read the news about English nobility back in the day...oh the controversies, it was something.
"And worse, I don't have any way to disguise myself...so expect resistance against demonic forces."
"As expected..." Mr. Hazbin shrugged with a smile. "No matter where we go. Trouble always seems to find us, dear friend. And it would have-"
5) "¡Tenemos un camión persiguiéndonos!" Marsella interrupted him, pointing at the back window.
Rönne didn't waste time with secondary questions and glanced back at the back window. And true to Marsella's word, there is a military truck with the Militech logo on their tail, speeding and getting closer and closer to them.
"Wonderful, you had to jinx it, didn't you?"
"Hey, I don't like lyin-"
The bullet pierced their back window's glass, nearly hitting Rönne.
"GET US OUT HERE, HERR HAZBIN! I DEAL WITH THEM!" commanded the Exorcist, drawing his revolver and reaching for his mask and helmet.
"But speed lim-"
"This is hell! No one cares for speeding violations! Just drive faster!" He demanded while putting on his helmet and mask once again.
Mr. Hazbin, without saying a word, switched the gear shift to six and slammed his foot against the gas pedal, going far faster. Their pursuit would lead them to "The Great Bridge of Eternal Pandemonium," a massive bridge structure built above the Styx River that connects two districts of the capital, west and east. The Styx River originates in the Marshes of Gluttony, which connect all rivers, and flows through Lust, Envy, and Sloth before ending here at Pandemonium, Blasphemy Ring.
The water here is semi-frozen, but sometimes it melts enough that it allows for Envy's merchant ships to arrive in Pandemonium's ports. There are still some ships with Leviathan's heraldry here, waiting for the ice to melt...no wonder that Capital Pandemonium was far poorer than Ring's Capitals...Hell even Pentagram was 10 times better than this.
At the point where the bridge begins, there is an entire military checkpoint of Militech forces guarding the entrance. They were all completely bored, hence they didn't take it seriously and rested their backs against the fences while chatting about some very normal stuff...
" *Kh* So tell me, who is hotter: Queen Beelzebub or Queen Lilith? *Kh* " A Militech mercenary asked his colleague.
" *Kh* Bro, you asking me if I prefer bug pussy or sinner pussy. *Kh*" A Vampire Militech Imp returned back, annoyed.
" *Kh* So what? Beelzebub has four arms, imagine what she can do to you...Queen Bee of Gluttony all the way. *Kh* "
" *Kh* Did Asmodeus kiss your head or something? Why are you suddenly so horny? *Kh* " Vampire Imp chuckled back before noticing a truck speeding towards them. " *Kh* Hey, what's with the - *Kh* "
He couldn't even finish when the truck passed them, and another military truck was chasing after them.
" *Kh* You seen this shit?! *Kh* "
" *Kh* Yeah, that's a speeding violation! Let's go get that fucker! *Kh*
And with no delays, the rest of the Militech armed forces would take their parked military cars, turn the engine, and join the chase. It wouldn't take them long to reach them.
6) "¡Más fascistas en nuestra cola!" Marsella issued a warning before firing her submachine gun at the pursuers.
"Ah, Great. Duck now!" Rönne warned, seeing that Militech troopers turned their turret nest at their direction.
" *Kh* Rock and roll, boys! *Kh*
Pressing the trigger, he began to fire furiously. Both Rönne, Mr. Hazbin and Marsella ducked themselves, while the Frenchman still tried to steer the van straight, not wanting to crash it. The barrage of fire would last at least 30 seconds before overheating his machine gun. Rönne was surprised to be alive, but he still checked to see if anyone had been hit. No one was injured, and thank God, the bullets did not penetrate deeply enough into Mr. Hazbin's truck's body.
" *Kh* What is this shit?! How the Heaven that truck can handle the barrage? *Kh* " The gunner complained, trying to cool off his machine gun.
The Exorcist quickly peeked out the window and fired his revolver at the gunner. The bullet pierced the lens of that Marine's gas mask, killing him in an instant.
"Well...I must admit, Mechanicum does make very good cars these days..." Rönne commented, loading his revolver with more bullets.
A little further away, on the Western Districts' rooftops, two Diabolical knights, were watching the chase on the bridge through binoculars. One of them would move the binoculars away, grinning menacingly before asking.
"Do you think it's them?"
"Oh, yeah. They are coming from the main road from Dis. It's them, alright."
"In that case...Let's join in their little fun." The Diabolical Knight laughed as he reached for a long weapon case. Opening it revealed a RPG, with him taking it, bringing it to his previous post, and aiming it to where the truck will pass. He pulled the trigger, sending the rocket toward where the van will pass. As both Marsella and Rönne exchanged their fires back at pursuing Militech forces, Mr. Hazbin at first saw some kind of flashing light before it turned out to be a rocket.
"Oh, I say, take cover!"
Rönne could not answer completely when Mr. Hazbin turned his wheel in an instant, causing the van to make a sharp turn to the left. It did, however, allow them to avoid the rocket, but it caused instability in the van, causing it to roll over several times before they were flipped over, with the van now completely wrecked for any future use.
Corporal Shephy tried to stop his van by pressing the brake pedal as hard as he could, but it still collided with Mr. Hazbin's van. Even another Militech van crashed against the van. After a minute of awkward silence as the smoke of the van came from their engines.. The Exorcist gunslinger coughed from the dust as he crawled out of the van. He would get on his feet, turning around and glancing down.
"You both okay?"
"Yeah, I think so." Mr. Hazbin grunted as he crawled out of the window. Rönne quickly ran up and offered his hand to get him out.
"Sorry about van..." He gestured at the destroyed van.
"It's fine...At least we’re alive...or rather, we have our souls intact, that is." Mr. Hazbin would also help his grandma get herself out of the van.
*Pistol Cock*
Rönne quickly ran up forward, aiming his revolver at the enemy while shielding Mr. Hazbin away from him. Marsella would also aim her submachine gun at him. Some of Militech mercenaries survived the crash and is now aiming his pistol at Hell's greatest enemies. And yet...sometimes it so happens that there are far worse factors.
"HERETICS!"
The Exorcist turned around to see Marsella being hit by one of Diabolical Knights. He couldn't react quick enough when another Knight hit him as well, making him fall on his legs before he was pinned down. A group of Knights would surround both Rönne's friends and Militech forces, aiming their weapons at both parties.
"I knew it...leave the heresy alone for a while and it will bring them here." Inquisitor Rykard growled at the sight of Exorcist, completely fearless.
" *Kh* And who the fuck are-"
Rykard just stabbed that Militech trooper, shutting him down for good.
"Typical Mammon's slaves" Rykard smirked as he returned his sword back to his holster. He'd then start his "exanimation procedure," curious to see who he's up against before his dark master has all the fun with them. He would slowly walk up to Marsella, whom he would crouch down to look at closely. "Hmm, what an unusual specimen: a scarecrow sinner demon, a rather uncommon combination."
In response, Marsella would spit at the at him before telling him everything she felt right now. 7) "Je vais écorcher ton cadavre et te couper en morceaux, fasciste!"
"Know your place, Sinner." Rykard would return the same hospitality by smacking Marsella very hard. He would use the small napkin to wipe the saliva from his face, provided by his knights. "That one will be purified according to the Diabolical standard."
"If you touch her just once more. I will tear you to pieces!" Screamed Rönne, as he tried to let himself free by shaking his holders off. But four Knights prevented him by pinning him down against the cold and snowy road.
When Rykard heard that Exorcist can speak, he immediately turned to him and would come up to him. He didn't even bother with Mr. Hazbin, as with a simple hand gesture, he commanded Knights to drag these two Frenches away and into the "meat grinder" as they say.
"Never thought that I would hear an Exorcist speak." Rykard remarked as he crouched to Rönne. "Tell me, what do you hope to achieve with the Exterminations? More bloodshed, more suffering?"
Rönne, still pinned to the snowy ground by the Diabolical Knights, met Rykard's intense gaze. Despite the dire circumstances, he maintained a steely resolve.
"Exterminations are a means to protect Heaven from the demons like YOU ."
Rykard's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his features. He chuckled, as if finding humor in the audacity of an Exorcist openly challenging him.
"Protect Heaven?" Rykard scoffed once more. "I find it hard to belive. The way I see it, your Heaven sends you only because they scared of us. Only we truly seek to break the chains of the false God and usher in a new era."
"Your 'new era' is built on tyranny and lies by Devil's own perversion." Rönne countered
"WRONG!" Rykard's response was swift and resolute. "Your Heaven perpetuates a false sense of order, a hypocritical system that dictates everyone who lives up there. Our Hell liberates individuals from the shackles of false morality, allowing them to embrace their true nature."
"A nature that is rotten to the core?"
"But fully freed!"
"Freed?" Rönne chuckled, finding it ironic. Even Inquisitor raised his eyebrow at Exorcist's remark. "My dear demonic friend. It's so amusing to hear how so many demons love to spat about freedom...yet you all forget one thing. You're still Lucifer's own bitch."
"Enough!" Rykard screamed at him, finding offense in every he just said. "My knights, eliminate this Exorcunt!"
One of the Knights would come up, unholstering his sword and pointing it at the Exorcist's broken LCD mask.
"Say hello to your God for us."
Rönne quickly closed his eyes, expecting it to be quick.
...
*BLAM*
Even the Exorcist got startled as he opened his eyes. it turned out that his executioner had gotten a holy bullet right into his head, making him drop dead.
"What the False God?!" Rykard demanded, as he and the rest of the knights looked around for the shooter. But his response was answered by the shooter gunning down his knights even more, making him go into cover. Rönne used that moment to get himself free. He "punch-elbowed" one of the Knights, quickly snatched the corporal's knife from the dead demon, and stabbed his remaining restrainer, killing him instantly.
"Kill him, you fucking idiots!" Rykard ordered, as he was escorted away by the knights.
Not wasting time; Rönne would run for cover, grabbing his confiscated weapons in the process. The reinforcement of Diabolical demons would arrive to provide cover to their Inquisitor, firing their weapons at the exorcist.
Rönne looked up to see the shooter. It turns out that it was the Exorcist sniper on the rooftops, belonging to Aclima's Legion. Grandmaster Aclima's reinforcements most likely already arrived at Pandemonium. Still, Jeanne's order remains active, not to mention how he has to chase after that Inquisitor and rescue his friends.
The Exorcist Sniper would raise his thumbs up, acknowledging Rönne's presence. Rönne would signal to the sniper to provide support for the time being, and the fight would resume, this time against the regiment of Diabolical Knights. After exchanging fire with the Knights, Rönne would emerge from his hiding place and open fire on them, killing some. Since the streets were wide and open, he used the "Hit and Run" tactic, using the cowers to gun down the remnants that blocked their chase. And the Sniper Exorcist provided excellent cover from a distance.
Eventually, he would use the back alleys to get themselves into the Sinner Ghetto, back to where Rönne first saw Pandemonium with his eyes. It was desolated from the sinners since Dis's destruction. Only a handful of Knights remained here, trying to control the situation. However, it became increasingly clear that Pandemonium had fully erupted in fire by the Purge.
Now, in one of the deteriorated alleys where he retreated back, the Inquisitor has found himself in a dire situation. With no communications to Lord Regent Iblis, there is only one command from now on: Survive. Marsella was tied up near the Inquisitor, who was busy trying to cast a teleportation spell.
Seeing that there was no way to deal with the Knights quietly, Rönne would decide to let the Knights know he is here, leaving his cover.
"Show's over, scum " Rönne announced his presence. Rykard immediately took Marsella hostage, using her as a life shield while he brought his knife to her neck. "Release her now!"
"Make me, Exorcunt! One more step and I will kill her." Rykard returned that bark. "Unlike you, I'm not holding that noble garbage. Who you think you are, coming here and destroying our unholly-"
Marsella bit his fingers, even managing to rip them apart with her sharp shark teeth. It caused him to let her go, screaming in agony and clutching his hand. Rönne would use the opportunity to deal with the rest of Rykards lackeys, now that only the Inquisitor of Diabolical States remained.
8) "Tu es à moi maintenant, viande!" Marsella didn't even give Rykard a chance to respond before pouncing at him and beginning to rip and tear his flesh alive. The scarecrow demon devoured him, causing screams and agony in the alley. Rönne would slowly come up to them, feeling uncomfortable.
"Ok...that's enough!" Rönne pulled Marsella out of him. Not because he shared sympathy with but rather because of that blatant act of cannibalism. What remained of Rykard was just a legless but still alive body with an open ribcage, completely defenseless.
"I will die, knowing that I served my Dark Lord well... what will you die for, you Exorcunt?" He'd wheeze out at the Exorcist, finding irony.
"To protect Earth from Demons like you, Lord Inquisitor Rykard. God may forgive you, but his Exorcists won't." Rönne hissed with no remorse. He would then pull out his revolver and give a control shot to the head.
Even after the death of Rykard, Rönne still stared at the body with disgust, with deep thoughts. Sometimes he feels lucky to have died as a agnostic person...his wrath would have been uncontrollable against Rykard's Blasphemy.
*Burp*
Rönne's thoughts were broken by the sudden noise. He would look down to see Marsella accidentally burp while trying to pick off the meat pieces from her teeth.
"Ugh...you really need help, Hera LeBlanc." Rönne sighed, bringing his revolver back into his holster. Obviously she didn't understand anything from him.
"A damn fine hunt, Deadeye. You could have at least left some of us" Jeanne remarked as she arrived with Samurai Miu and Grandmaster Aclima. They were also accompanied by a large regiment of exorcists who would secure the perimeter around the alley. And, of course, Abel was present, speeding towards the Exorcist Deadeye.
"You deserve a medal, son!" Abel grabbed his hand and shaking it with a proud motion. "First you and Jeanne assassinated the Lord Regent and Chancellor, then something happened that blew up Hell's entire religious institution, and now I find you dealt with Inquisition of Hell! Color me impressed!"
"Thank you, Lord Abel...though we had to sacrifice our Knight for that." Rönne sighed, going silent after mentioning her. Jeanne would also come up closer to them, staring at Abel to make sure he remembers the previous conversation.
"It's...unfortunate what happened to Knight-Sister Aikaterine, knight. She will be granted a medal of honor posthumously for her dedication...and I assure her that her sacrifice will not go unnoticed."
"How was your road to here, by the way? Any obstacles?" Jeanne added.
"Not gonna lie; it nearly got me dead. After you and I ended the call, we had Militech chase us through the main bridge before the remnants of Diabolical State ambushed us and captured Marsella and Mr. Hazbin. I fought back here we're. So what happens now?"
"The rest of our forces have already commenced the purge protocol on Pandemonium. We will give them a little "Carthage experience" for what they have done to Limbo. You and the rest of the squad, on the other hand, are free to return back to Heaven."
"Consider it as my little Christmas gift for you, Deadeye." Jeanne smirked.
"But Mr. Hazbin is still nowhere to be seen. Ma’am, could you ask Marsella where he went? I don’t have any knowledge in French."
Jeanne nodded, before looking at the scarecrow demon. 9) "Marsella, où est parti votre petit-fils?"
10) "Oh, Dieu merci, quelqu'un connaît ma langue. Il a réussi à s'échapper dans la panique, il a dit qu'il sera dans cette vieille maison de location."
"She says some of our Exorcists ambushed their capturers, and your friend managed to escape in the midst of chaos. Marsella was apprehended a second time and told to meet her in a hotel if she would escape for the third time or if you returned.
“That must be the motel me and Mr. Hazbin left after he freed me from the crate.” Rönne said to himself, thinking it through.
“Then let’s get your friend out of here, Rönne-San.” Samurai Miu would come up, holding his katana in preparation.
“You do that. The streets will be safe at this point, so I doubt there will be any resistance.” Jeanne explained, before sighing. “I would like to come with you, my squad, but I have to write the reports immediately as soon as I step my foot into Heaven. It's just a part of the bureaucratic process; you can't fight it. But regardless, drinks on me when I see you back at Heaven. You both deserve it!"
“Alright, we'll see you back in Heaven, mam. Thank you for everything.” Rönne nodded before looking at his samurai friend. “Ready, Miu?”
“Always.”
And with no delays, the two remaining Alpha Squad members with Marsella would leave the alley, going to that old motel.
“The rest of you, initiate protocol 32 and sweep sector-2 from the Demonoids. Now move up!” Grandmaster Aclima commanded.
Hearing the command, the rest of the exorcists would spread their wings and fly up, searching the sky for any demons. Only some of Aclima’s personal guards remained, as she still has some unfinished business.
"So, what you want to talk about it before?" Abel gave the full attention to his sister.
Aclima would cross her arms, turn her head to the left, and inhale deeply before exhaling. “We have a big problem, Abe. This is whole operation was just a ruse. The Inferno knew we were targeting Iblis. And now Cain himself is here, targeting us.”
"W-what?" To say that the Abel was speechless was an understatement. "Meaning it was-"
"An ruse by Cain, yes." Aclima sighed, she too sometimes had frequently questioned the legitimacy and true purpose of the purges.
Ever since the fall of Limbo, it has always been felt that Heaven's purges were what Inferno really wanted...a little distraction and an excuse to make the Hellborn population more...Satanic. In a way, it could be just a ruse and part of Inferno's inner backstabbing games: Satan against Lucifer for the Throne of Hell. But at the same time...Aclima only volunteered here to impress their dad.
"I'm not sure if we can go against Azrael's orders, Abel. We had direct command to sack the entire city to the ground."
"Azrael is not here, right now, sis. You're the one who sees the situation quite clearly. Cain's presence here already makes it worthless." Abel countered back.
Alcima growled to herself. The encounter still felt bitter. It's been eons, and she still harbors resentment toward Cain for murdering Abel because God favored his sacrifice is a blatant act of envious rage that she will never understand, even today.
"Does Providence and especially our mother knows? She must be aware of Cain's involvement." Aclima broke the silence.
"No, I keep the channels off for now. She will take it the hardest. Cain's betrayal left that scar in her...maybe me and Dad can let it go...but she can't."
"Yeah..." Aclima nodded slowly, understanding Abel's reasoning quite clear....before once again remaining silent. Going against an Archangel is a rather dangerous act...but all of the Knights of Exorcism are under her responsibility. Hence she turned on the communication link on her helmet.
"Attention! This Grandmaster speaking to all knights in Pandemonium. It's unfortunate I have to address this, but we are canceling our purge on the Capital. All Knights must return to Grid-31 and proceed with the evacuation protocol." Aclima would then close the channel, making the deep exhale. "May our dad forgive me for this...I just hope it will be worth it in the end."
"Worth it?"
"Ha, it has not been worth it since the beginning, doll!"
And it's often said: trouble always inbound. Aclima immediately drew her sword upon hearing that voice, as did Abel. Cain, disguised as a small little bat, appears to have been here since Alpha Squad left. He flew down to the ground before resuming his normal but vampiric appearance.
"YOU!" Abel exclaimed
"Yes me, you brain dead! How many Cains do you know who smashed your skull?" Cain mocked him, summoning a pack of cigarettes and lighting one of them.
Aclima only fixed her stance for combat, ready to finish what they started back at Stygian Council. So did Abel, but Aclima showed her palm to not let him be reckless.
"No, Abel. This is not your fight...make sure all the Exorcists will be evacuated in no time!"
"But, sis. He-"
"That's an order!" Aclima returned it, not wanting to hear excuses.
"And tell our mommy that Aclima fucking died...guess everyone gets their turn eventually." Cain added with a smirk, puffing the smoke out.
Abel, despite, not wanting to leave her, has to comply. He would lay his hand on Aclima's shoulder before he and the Exorcists would retreat back to the "Emergency" grid sector. When they were gone, Aclima focused her attention on Cain, who was still smoking the cigarette.
"Look at you, Abel is gone and now it's you shepherding your little sheep folk...how adorable." Cain noted the armor he wears.
"What you want now?!"
Cain would take a few puffs before putting away the cigar. "Surprised that you didn't left already. I told you the surprise will come for all your sheep."
"Militech?"
"Mammon's corporate forces?! HA!" Cain smirked at that. "Cannon fodder is what they are. I mean the real surprise. Didn't you notice the sudden drop in temperature? It's very...unusual for Pandemonium."
Aclima raised an eyebrow before looking at the temperature on the visor. It went from -32 degrees Celsius to more than -100. Even for Pandemonium's cold weather, it was a anomaly weather conditions...with only the Treachery Ring could be -
Treachery Ring!
"Oh, no..." Aclima whispered in horror...now realizing everything.
"Oh, yes, my little sister. You know what they say-"
"The Hunt Is Coming..."
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/Somewhere in Sinner Ghetto
In the meantime, Alpha Squad and Marsella would return to the main Ghetto street. It didn't take them long to get there, fighting off the last of Diabolical State's holds on the Ghetto, who are now desperate against the Knights' brutality in exorcism.
"Stay away from me, you mindless abominations!" The Diabolical Knight screamed in horror, aiming his sword at the Squad of Exorcists. And yet, an Exorcist with a spear simply walked forward and stabbed that knight with ease, ending his wretched existence.
"Pathetic..." The Exorcist cursed, ripping the spear out of the Knight's body. The rest of the Exorcists secured the perimeter while both Rönne with Samurai Miu and Marsella would arrive.
"Knight-Brother Rönne Schaffer." Rönne greeted his colleagues in exorcism. "We heard Aclima's evacuation order and were on our way. What happened?"
"We don't know, brother. We were making our way towards the evacuation grid."
"Knowing our Grandmaster, something very serious must have happened, Rönne-San." Samurai Miu added.
"Right, then let's us pick Mr. Hazbin and get the hell out of here."
"Need backup?" Exorcist volunteered.
"Sure, make sure the exterior is clear. I'm gonna check on Mr. Hazbin." Rönne said to Miu, who nodded as he and Marsella remained outside with rest of Exorcists.
Rönne ran up to the hotel's door, kicked it open, and pulled out his action rifle. With the lights out, his only source of illumination was his half-broken LCD mask. He would stumble upon two dead Diabolical Knights, with Mr. Hazbin sitting on the chair, staring down and slowly spinning his butterfly knife.
"Oh, hey. It's you." Mr. Hazbin said weakly as he rose to his feet. "They chased after me to the motel. I had no choice but to kill them here."
"...You sound disturbed." Rönne noted his tone, worried about Mr. Hazbin's unusual behavior.
The Frenchman would sigh at first, still feeling tense from all of this, before shrugging his shoulders. "It's nothing, dear boy. I just made a promise to myself...“
"We will have to do it to survive, Herr Hazbin. Come on, we are taking you back to Nadege."
With a slow and weak nod, they would leave the hotel. Marsella would run up and hug her grandson, glad that he was alive and well. But since they're still in the warzone, there is no time for pleasantries, and they must get back to Grandmaster Aclima as quickly as possible.
Samurai Miu with the rest of the Exorcists looked at the sky.
"Miu, what is going on...on?" Rönne shut himself up when he looked up.
There is a ship, but it is not from heaven... it is a sea ship floating above the Pandemonium, slowly moving through the air. And from the ship, many horse riders would leave it, galloping in the sky to every destination.
"Holy Mother of God, it's THE WILD HUNT!" Rönne screamed it in the panic, not wanting to believe it.
And indeed, The Specters of the Devil or rather "The Wild Hunt" is a horde of specters galloping in the sky. They are wraiths created by Sin Entity to be served as an "Hunt Party", with true purpose was to find and capture slaves from other rings and bring them to the ninth ring of Hell.
As they descended onto Pandemonium, some of the Phantom Riders literally warped near where Rönne and the rest of The Exorcist were. The horses, who are also wraiths of Sin, screeched at the exorcists as they charged at them, with the rider raising his mace at them. The German Exorcist would avoid the charge and fire his bullet at the Rider, but his blessed bullet would pass through the Wraith's body...
"Shit!" Rönne cursed, not knowing what to do.
26) ̸̝̩̮̼̘͆̅͗̒̏"̴̞̲͈̌̎̍͗͌ę̷͕͎̲͂̆̇̓ć̸͖͗͌̑̇a̸̬̚r̶̨̳͔̈́̓̿̕b̶͍̼̙̣̅́́m̷̻̒̐̃̈́͜é̴͈̯̟̜̈̇̕ ̷̹͓̭͒͌̓͗ŗ̸͉̺͘u̸̮͉͈̱͑̈́ȏ̴̲͇̋̀̈́͝ŭ̸͇͝ ̷͚̉̎̐̇̽ͅs̶͖̺͆́ͅṋ̴̱̈̈́ĭ̶̺̳̝̍̑̂͜s̴͙͇̣̦̍̎̎͐,̶̦͛̊̍́ ̷̉͗͑̐̆͜l̴̢̠̗̱͂͝a̴̡͍̦͓̽ţ̵̞͒r̸̢̤̗̱̥̈́͐͑m̶̓͝ͅõ̸̰͕͙̣͑͌ ̸͕͎̻̎̕l̷͕̽͘u̸͖̟̘̒̄͐̋̃o̵̠̞̍̿s̴̢͍̤̘̓̎̚!̴̙̄̀̆"̶̦̤̰͙͛͝ͅ ψ The Rider of the Wild Hunt screeched back at him.
More and more Riders of the Wild Hunt would warp themselves near them, some were on horses, others were on foot. They all wore skeletal armor, despite the fact that they were all spectral entities.
Both Samurai and Rönne formed a defensive line with the Exorcists, protecting Mr. Hazbin and Marsella from the Riders, who were still witnessing everything in horror. But whenever they struck at the Riders, their spears, swords, and firearms phased through the Wild Hunt's Riders. Their swords, however, collided with the Exorcist's weapons whenever the Riders deflected their attacks.
"My boy! Behind you!"
Rönne quickly turned around on Mr. Hazbin's warning. Despite the warning, a Rider of the Wild Hunt swung his mace at Rönne's mask... before all went quiet.
...
✝ Loading... ✝
Name: Rönne Schaffer
Date Of Birth: 21.03.1893
Date Of Death: 03.08.1914
Occupation: Knight-Brother (The Knight Order Of Harrowing and Exorcism [Sharpshooter Branch])
Status: Pending...
✝✝✝ New Designation ✝✝✝
✝✝✝ Missing In Action ✝✝✝
✝✝✝ The God Protects ✝✝✝
Notes:
Well...as once a legendary Sergeant Johnson said: "Send me out... with a bang."
R.I.P Aikaterine. It's been fun writing you for nearly the entire year. Into the hall of this story's dead characters you go.
---------------------------------------
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) Saint Death (Santa Muerte) blesses you with the sweet relief of death, mortal. I hope you enjoy your new afterlife, wherever you go.2) I think you shouldn't make him angry, Grim - (Mexican)
3) "You annoy me, Bearer Of Light."- (Primordial)
4) "You..." - (Primordial)
5) We have a truck chasing us! - (French)
6) More fascists in our tail! - (French)
7) "I'm going to skin your corpse and cut you into pieces, fascist!" - (French)
8) "You're mine now, meat!" - (French)
9) "Marsella, where has your grandson gone?" - (French)
10) "Oh, thank God someone knows my language. He managed to escape in a panic, he said he'll be in this old rental house." - (French)
11) Embrace Your Sins, Mortal Soul! - (???)
Chapter 20: Hazbin Hotel [Episode 2: Finale]
Summary:
"No great advance has been made in science, politics, or religion without controversy." - Beecher
Chapter Text
January 1, 2020, AD (During HH's Pilot), 11.58 PM.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City's outskirts/The Morningstar's Compound
Another Year...Another Successful purge.
Once more, Pentagram City was hit by a horde of Exterminators, killing everything they saw in their path. This year was somewhat mundane, as neither important Sinners nor Lucifer's personal overlords died...at least he thinks that way.
At this very moment, Lucifer sat on his favorite chair, observing the Pentagram Clock Tower as he drank the wine. Some of his overlords are also here, discussing with each other the future plans for this new year. But the High King of Hell didn't bother with his "living toys". He instead anticipated the call, wanting to hear the outcome of his whole little scheme game.
*Ring*
Grinning like a child, Lucifer picked up the phone and brought it to him.
"Hellooo" Lucifer made a little song.
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Ah, Phenex: my second favorite Ars Goetia behind Paimon. So tell me, how did it went down in our "Glorious" Capital of Hell?"
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Splendid, my dear. You deserve a lollipop for this...if only Adramelech didn't die in "friendly fire." You do realize how tedious it is to get a new Chancellor?"
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"True enough...I suppose Iblis is dead, and that's all that matters. Did Paimon receive the news?"
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"I don't really care who takes who in your little Ars Goetia fan club. As long as it's one of my loyalists, be it you or Paimon, I'll be satisfied anyway."
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Good, My little Phenex. You know what your next task is. Don't disappoint me."
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
Lucifer sighed and returned the phone to its original setting. FINALLY, he has waited more than 2000 years for the religious institution of Hell to be completely destroyed. His "heavenly friends" managed to do so much damage and carnage that they themselves lost many Exterminators in the process...a double victory for Lucifer.
Fucking Beelzebub and Satan, always acting against his wishes... makes him wonder if he should have formed the "Infernal Triumvirate" with them in the first place. The moment Charlie was born, they began to show disloyalty toward him...and Lucifer knew they would seek to overthrow him when the time was right. But with Iblis's death, they lost a valuable ally... and Lucifer now has his eyes set on a new major task for the future.
The Ars Goetia.
*Sound of Fireworks outside*
One of Lucifer's overlords: a tall, slender, grey-skinned demon that sports red eyes with white irises, would come to the curtains and open them with a simple motion. The fireworks exploded above the Pentagram's skies, signaling the end of the annual purge... and the start of the new year. Lucifer narrowed his eyes, knowing who it might be...
"You know your assignments, my little pets. Now get out of here."
The rest of his overlords, bowed their heads and proceeded to leave, leaving the King of Pride alone. Lucifer then went to the window, observing the fireworks. Even by looking at them, Lucifer sees that Charlie still complains about the Purges...if only she could understand that Lucifer does it all for her betterment.
"Still being a depressed little bitch, you old bastard?"
Lucifer looked down to see The Serpent, The Snake of Eden, who had crept up to him quietly. Judging by the black marks under his eyes, someone had a bad sleep.
"Well, look who is here, a wretched snake." Lucifer sneered back before going serious. "What do you want now?"
"What do I want?" Serpent repeated mockingly. "Oh, I will tell you what I want, you sack of shit! What's with you and Lilith being uncomfortably horny every fucking time?! I had to endure both of your moans for the entire night."
"What can I say...Only I could have that long-ass fun time with Lilith..." Lucifer shrugged with a smirk.
"FOR TWELVE HOURS!" Serpent complained.
"Could have done it for twenty...but my poor Camarila wouldn't have been able to walk for the rest of the day...not to mention with her leaving soon."
"Lord of Pride but behaves like a Lust one..." Serpent complained to himself before deciding to just give up. "Anyway, while you were screwing around. Cain called and said he wants to see Lilith at the Stygian Council..."
"And why does he need her?"
"Dunno...maybe because we had our capital invaded by exterminators...for the first time?!" Serpent again semi-mocked Lucifer. "It's a big deal, you know...The Department of Propaganda even wrote you a letter, mentioning how they were all trying hard to suppress the information flow to the rest of rings. Hell, they even put the Capital Ring on lockdown and made everyone sign a contract that they won't spread the truth about Capital's Purge."
"Are you reading my letters again?"
"I was curious...what, I can't be like Eve sometimes?" Serpent joked. "Some of your letters even asked you to be at an emergency meeting session of the Stygian Council. The rest of the Deadly Sins will also be there. They also will be electing a new Chancellor, Luci...just a hint."
Lucifer simply rolled his eyes in annoyance. The Stygian Council being the Stygian Council...always so clingy...stupid Democracy and it's "Council discussions."
"...Fine, let's have a marketplace of ideas."
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/Outside of Stygian Council.
*Couple of Hours later*
In a way, some demons joked that Rome, the greatest city of humanity in ancient times, was so glorious that it was sacked seven times in history. Meanwhile, Pandemonium, Demonkind's greatest city in Inferno history, had never been sacked... until now.
Fires and smoke littered the entire capital as the horrors of the recent purge lingered, even after the exterminators had escaped. These mysterious beings, who seemed to emerge from nowhere, unleashed chaos with a precision and ferocity that Hell had never seen. It was so bad that every ring had to send emergency firefighters and some garrison soldiers all around the inferno to uphold the lawfulness of the city. And worst of all, Mulciber saw it all.
Mulciber, once the grand architect of Heaven who designed many stunningly beautiful palaces, had continued his craft in Hell. He led the construction of Pandemonium, the capital of Hell, built within one hour but grander in scope than any known human structure. Now, as both Leviathan and Beelzebub, along with Cain, stood near the entrance of the Stygian Council, they watched as Mulciber was curling into a ball on the ground, literally crying in despair.
"My beautiful Pandemonium... my precious city!" Mulciber wept.
"Oh, grow up, you parasite." Leviathan, clearly annoyed, folded his arms.
"Quiet, Levi. Can't you see how (bzz)roken he is?" Queen Beelzebub crouched beside Mulciber, placing a comforting hand on his back.
Leviathan rolled his eyes. "I see a grown-ass demon crying just because someone ruined his architecture, Yophiel. This is unacceptable."
"I'd like to see you lose something special to you and not (bzz)e like him," Beelzebub shot back, glaring at the King of Envy.
"I didn't cry when Unsere died," Leviathan retorted coldly.
"Maybe (bzz)ecause you hired a hooker to handle your sorrow," Beelzebub countered, her voice dripping with disdain.
"You say it like it's a bad thing, Bumblebee." Cain, who had been quietly tuning his guitar, chimed in nonchalantly,
"Shut it, Cain!" Beelzebub and Leviathan said in unison, their irritation momentarily united. Cain merely shrugged and continued with his guitar.
Lucifer, with the Serpent coiled around his neck, arrived to them. As soon as Beelzebub saw him, she stood up abruptly and stormed into the Stygian Council building, clearly still furious with him. Leviathan instead remained as his gaze shifted from Mulciber to Lucifer.
"Lucifer, and here I thought you didn't care about the capital of Hell at all."
"I could say the same to you, Leviathan," Lucifer replied with a weary grin, glancing down at Mulciber before looking back at Leviathan.
"I have my reasons, especially since Astaroth is here... and you?"
"Adramelech died. I want to hear who will be the next Chancellor of Hell."
"Ah, need another puppet, huh? Well, I suppose it's a good thing Azazel is here. She'll ensure 'civility' in the Council." Leviathan's grin widened, clearly enjoying the prospect of stirring the pot.
Lucifer sighed. When Azazel is involved, things always get heated. Not like the usual orgies, but genuine, heated debates.
Lucifer then turned to Cain, noticing the presence of Eve's older son. "Cain, what are you doing here?"
"Chilling, uncle. Had a pleasant time yesterday. Added 106 dead Exorcists to my kill count," Cain responded casually, strumming a chord on his guitar. Then, with a sinister smile, he added, "By the way, did you know Aclima led the purge on the capital?"
"Aclima?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed, his interest piqued. Same with Leviathan. "What happened to her?"
"I let her live... for now." Cain shrugged nonchalantly, a dark glint in his eyes. "Figured it would be more fun that way."
"Fun?" Lucifer echoed, his tone heavy with disapproval. "Why would you let her go after what she did to the capital?"
Cain's smile grew wider, more malevolent. "Because, uncle, I want her to suffer more. I'm not done with her yet... plus Lilith wants that too."
"Seems your wife is scheming behind your back, Lucifer," Leviathan commented rather boringly.
"More like she just wants to kick Adam in the balls." Lucifer waved him off, noting to not waste time on that. "Well, let's randy dandy oh then, Leviathan."
And so Lucifer and Leviathan made their way into the chamber. Cain lounged back in his seat, his eyes flicking lazily at the entrance beside him.
"Ah, it's always amusing how much it all goes downhill for Heaven. Hope you're having a great time over there, Dad. Many things won't last forever." Cain remarked with a smirk before strumming a haunting melody on his guitar once more.
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/Stygian Council/The Main Chamber.
Politics...perhaps the most vile thing that Hell could ever produce.
Lucifer hated it in the first place, despising pretty much everything it stood for. Most Demons would simply say that Lucifer handles everything if you asked them how the Infernal Government worked. But in truth, it was more complicated.
Usually, Lucifer lets Chancellor Adramelech stand in for him during regular Parliament discussions, but with his death at the hands of Exterminators, there was no choice. It wasn’t like he wanted to be part of the Stygian Council anyway...
When the Infernal Triumvirate was formed with Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Satan, they adopted a lot of the Ars Goetian Empire's legislation. It would have allowed Inferno (Lucifer) to rule Hell while keeping everyone happy. Since then, Lucifer has been referred to as the "High-King of Hell," with other Kings and Queens being slightly below him, while others held other titles that made up the nobility or high positions of power.
Yet, as time went on, Hell became even too much for Lucifer to rule on his own, and so he created a body of government to help him oversee things while still keeping the complete authority he held.
The Stygian Council
It's essentially the government of an inferno, with three branches:
- The Ring Monarchs,
- The House of Ars Goetia,
- The Representatives of Rings; or Barrators (Senators)
The first was the most influential and powerful among all the demons. Each ring of hell was ruled by a Monarch of Sin, someone that Lucifer himself trusted to oversee things in his name or the Devil's, save for the Ring of Pride. They are of course the Seven Deadly Sins: the original Fallen Angels who rebelled against God. They are:
- Satan: The Imperator of Imps and Ruler of Wrath.
- Beelzebub: The Benevolent Queen of Gluttony and Lady of Flies.
- Mammon: The CEO of Greed.
- Asmodeus: "The Pimp-King" of Lust.
- Leviathan: The (Pirate) King of Envy,
- Belphegor: The Queen of Sloth and...Great and Mighty streamer of Hwitch
Unofficially, there is also the Ring of Fraud/Blasphemy, which is where Capital City is located. Lord Regent Iblis fought for the inclusion of Blasphemy as the "Eighth Ring of Hell" for a long time, effectively making his Church the de facto ruler of Capital City and Deadly Sin as well.
And a long time ago, "The Ring of Despair" was included before. Despair seceded from the Inferno and became independent Limbo... to this day, the Inferno is unsure whether to restore the Despair Ring or allow another monarch of Hell to annex it. And of course, there is also "Treachery" Ring...but we don't talk about it.
The second branch is rather interesting. Despite Ars Goetia no longer being in absolute power, they are the original masters of Hell and still a powerful faction in their own right. While there were many Goetian Demons present, let Ars Bael Goetia, who is frequently referred to as the "Emperor" of Goetia, send his electors: Phenex, Astaroth, Sitri, Marbas, and Morax, to attend the council on his behalf. Each one of them represents the rank they held off. The Goetia Demons were split between Kings, Dukes of Hell, Princes of Hell, Marquises of Hell, Counts, Knights of Hell, and Presidents of Hell.
- Kings were heirs of Ars Bael, with one of them would assume "Ars" title when the time will come.
- Dukes handled the Legions of Inferno,
- Princes are sort of the "attend diplomatic meetings" type of Goetias.
- Marquises handled the frontier borders between the Rings of Hell,
- Counts handled very small territories.
- Knights are just...created for fun
- Presidents only dealt with small towns.
Finally, the Representatives of the Hellborn were the last branch made up of everyone else. They were voted among their own kind in the Rings of Hell, with one representative per district, with the maximum being 666. But obviously, it has the weakest amount of power. Most Barrators simply listened to their Kings and voted in favor of whatever they said. And worse, all of them were corrupted individuals, often betraying their own kind. Even though Malebranches, the Stygian Council's Senatorial Guard, punished the corruption, but it did not deter it. Plus, the monarch's enforcers, be they Legatuses of Wrath or Overlords of Pride, made sure that Barrators played nice.
And with that, the Stygian Council should have been a perfect tool for Lucifer...but he regrets ever commissioning its construction in the first place. Even after the creation of the Council, Inferno's society began to shift toward radical ideologues, akin to Human's populism. Even though there is no such thing as "political parties," everyone pretty much knows that the Council is divided into two camps: Luciferians and Satanists.
Luciferians are Lucifer's loyalists, while the Satanists, on the other hand, were a more "populistic" and "jingoistic" faction that backed Satan, the King of Wrath. They were all complaining that Lucifer didn't fulfill his promises by overthrowing their god, so their main complaint was simple:
Final war with Heaven and Earth.
And to this day, they complain on and on. At least today they were pretty silent. Unfortunately, today was one of those days, as even Lucifer seemed bored just hearing Mammon speak.
"For the last fucking time, Mammon. Nobody will try to take over your Loo Loo Land!" Beelzebub complained, even Lucifer saw that the Queen of Gluttony is getting enough of this bullshit.
"Bullshit! I know what you all thinking. Loo Loo land is my jewel of Greed and I won't allow you, motherfuckers, to take it. So sue me all you want!"
"If you pay me 5 million Souls, I won't complain to you ripping me off." Lucifer sighed, bored completely as he rested his head against his arms. This whole meeting started with Mammon complaining that everyone thinks Loo Loo Land is a rip off Lucifer's Lucifer's Lu Lu World. Mammon was a greedy little shit who barely spent the money he had on his ring and rarely did anything for anyone other than himself...but he was a good ally for Lucifer with his army of Droids...hence he plays nice.
Mammon sniffed as he summoned 5 golden ingots made of pure "Devilirium", native to Treachery Ring.
"...Just take it, you son of bitch!" Mammon tossed them to Lucifer as he began to cry, much to Leviathan's annoyance...sharing this Hell with these spoiled children. Lucifer simply used the teleportation spell to send down the ingots back to his mansion...still completely bored.
But Mammon would wipe his tears off with his paper money before looking at Leviathan.
"Lev, you're responsible, brother of mine...right?"
"...And?" Leviathan waited for the punchline.
" *sniff* ...WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY MY NFT!!!" Mammon immediately switched from the sad clown to the happy clown, showing some NFT with Mammon's logo on his hand.
"NO!" Leviathan returned it.
"BUY MY NFT!!! ONLY 666.666.666!"
"FUCK OFF, MAMMON!"
"Oh, father...just fucking end me already!" Lucifer complained, here Mammon goes again with his NFTs. Even Azazel, who, in this case, volunteered to be the handler of this meeting, had enough.
"Lord of Greed, stop with that behavior at once."
"Make-"
"Stop... now ." Azazel warned...with a very disturbing tone.
Mammon would just throw his arms in the air before dropping himself on his throne, summoning another dollar and some weed to wrap it up and smoke it in joy.
"Thank you." Azazel responded before addressing the rest of the council. "Before I was interrupted by Mammon, I welcomed you all to the 3123112th session of the Stygian Council. It's a great-"
"Not to be rude or anything, lads." Mammon again interrupted Azazel...for the third time." But I'd just like to get this fuckin' meeting over with already. I’ve got shit to do. There's a sucker born every minute, and I'd much rather be out there squeezin' 'em of everything they got."
Azazel gave a "death-glance" to Mammon before once more...trying to address the rest.
"Very well. For this Session, Astaroth Goetia would represent Ars Bael's words and The Electors. Satan could not attend this session; hence, his Barrators will be his ears. Asmodeus, as per usual, is banned from attending the meeting due to constant complains of sexual harassment by our Queen Beelzebub. And obviously, Belphegor is over there on the vid, streaming herself. So let us begin."
Azazel flipped a few pages on the Stygian book, which essentially contains every topic that has been discussed since the first session of Stygian Council.
"My brothers and sisters, in the beginning of the Third Age of Inferno, under the Acheron Accord, we sign a peace treaty with Heaven. The Ring of Limbo was returned to us under the terms of the Accord, but at a cost. Every year, Heaven dispatches its Angels of Death for annual purges. And today, after nearly 100 years since our victory in Limbo and the First Purge...Heaven struck down our Capital. In the ensuing purge, Lord Regent Iblis, and Chancellor Adramelech perished in the fight."
Azazel then took a brief pause as her speech elicited gasps and boos... most likely directed at Heaven. Some of the Goetias who were present whispered to each other in horror, as it was once their Capital. Barrators did the same.
"Lady Beelzebub wishes to speak about it. Your honor, Lady of Flies."
"Thank you, Lady of Secrets." Beelzebub stood up from her throne, bowing to Azazel in respect before she began. "My subjects, sons and daughters of Inferno. I shared your grief when I learned the news. Although I visited Lord Regent Iblis, I left the Ring right before the Exterminators came down. I knew Iblis personally, He was dedicated to the principles that our...King... shared before...for the destruction of Heaven. Mark my words: I, Queen Beelzebub of Gluttony and Lady of Flies, will seek to honor him...by unleashing our might on Heaven's golden gates when the time is right. Heaven will be destroyed, and Inferno will triumph!"
Her speech earned applause from the Barrators and most of Goetias. Leviathan and Lucifer didn't bother with the clapping...for their own reasons...and Mammon was busy getting high.
"Thank you, Lady of Flies. Anyone else wishes to add?"
Lucifer would simply get up from his throne.
"Alright, listen everyone." Lucifer didn't bother with formalities. "The Extermination of the Capital is a huge blow. I understand that shit happens and all that jazz. But for my sake, let Heaven fucking die as it devours itself. More and more human scum fall into sin, and Heaven doesn't get anything. Let's be reasonable; we've all come here for a reason: who shall be the new Chancellor of the Stygian Council?"
Once more that Stygian Council is filled with whispers to each other.
"And why would we need that?" Beelzebub interjected. "The entire city of Dis was destroyed, their leader is dead. I propose to hand over the entire Ring of Blasphemy to the Lord Regent Baphomet, our new Religious Leader of Hell!"
And again, it earned some applauds and cheering from the council. Baphomet, who listened the entire thing, would also gently bow his head, thanking Beelzebub.
"Oh, ho-ho, aren't you a clever little bee, huh?" Lucifer sneered in with a small laugh before becoming solemn. "NO! I won't allow any religious institution in MY realm. I VETO IT and demand full dissolution of the City of Dis as an independent entity!"
"That's absurd!"
"What the fuck, my King!?"
"Quiet..." Azazel interjected, causing everyone's lips to clench. "My Lord, as per the Triumvirate Agreement, you must uphold the Constitution of Inferno. You can't veto this decision."
"Bullshit, who signed this constitution?"
"You did, asshole." Beelzebub hissed at Lucifer.
"Queen Beelzebub is right, my Lord. In the constitution of Inferno, religious institutions must be upheld. Whether we give Dis the capital or not, it must exist somewhere." Azazel explained.
"Fucking politics and bureaucracy," Lucifer sighed. "Alright then, you fuckers! Here is my proposal to all of you: we elect a new Chancellor of Hell and let Dis be an exclave of Pandemonium as usual."
"We heard our King and Queen's arguments, so let us commence the vote."
It took at least 5 minutes for all of the members of the council to cast a vote in a box. Azazel would count them, shuffling through the papers.
"So the votes are in: The Seven Deadly Sins, excluding Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Satan with Asmodeus, voted fully for Lucifer's plan. 3 versus 0. Goetia: 12 against 3, and Barrators: 666 against 0...which equals one vote. So the result is: 15 against 3."
Beelzebub grumbled at those results, with Lucifer sticking his tongue out, mocking her.
"With Lucifer's decision commencing. Then let us move on to the next question: Who will be the new chancellor?"
Astaroth would get up on his throne for his speech.
"My lords and Lady Beelzebub, due to some concerns that Ars Bael expressed with Adramelech's death. I regret to announce that the Ars Goetia is no longer putting forth their candidacy for the Chancellorship of Pandemonium. You will have to find someone else to uphold our Capital."
"Well...crap." Serpent whispered to Lucifer, for the entire Stygian Council's session, he has been quiet on Lucifer's neck...but the King of Pride brought him here for a reason.
"That's why I proposed turning over the capital to Baphomet. Now we don't have anyone for the Chancellorship!" Beelzebub complained.
"Well, luckily for you, Bezze. I have quite a candidate!" Lucifer then grabbed the Serpent from his neck and revealed him to the entire Council. "I purpose for Serpent, the Snake of Eden, to become the new chancellor of Pandemonium. I have known him quite well, and he shall be no better than Adramelech."
"Lucifer, what the fuck are you doing?!" Serpent whispered.
"Just shut up and be quiet."
At first, everyone remained silent on that decision. But only Beelzebub was livid at that idea.
"Are you fucking serious?" Beelzebub gasped at this decision. "You want a literal snake of Eden with no arms or legs to handle the affairs of the capital? This is absurd and beyond reason."
"I didn't hear anything from you, Beeze!" Lucifer returned it.
"Not in all of my honey that I put a fucking snake into this position. Serpent is a lowlife and worst possible decision. I call this a (bzz)latant attempt by Lucifer to overthrow our government."
Hearing this, Serpent felt...broken. Even being a Snake, he didn't feel that low...but here...he now realized what a pathetic sack of shit he is...worse than when Serpent cried to Eve.
"While making Serpent the Chancellor is not a bad decision, we must have a Chancellor who will uphold all the interests of the Deadly Sins, not only Lucifer's." Azazel pointed this out, trying to be civil between Lucifer and Beelzebub's conflict of interests.
"Then do it yourself." Mammon sneered. "If you're so mighty and shit with your words, Witch. How about you become a new one... you could always give us a nice fellatio in the future."
Barrators began to whisper to each other again. Ironically, this decision is not that bad as well. Azazel has always been the type of demon who will offer advice and assistance when needed. Hell, even Beelzebub learned a lot from Azazel...so if everyone hates Mammon, he does have a point.
"While I see that Mammon's idea was to mock my femininity, I would not go against that decision. If needed, I will handle the affairs of Pandemonium while maintaining all the interests, be it Lucifer, Beelzebub, or Satan."
"As long as you answer to me, Azazel. Then I'm not against it." Lucifer warned.
"You have my promise, my king."
And the voting started all over again, this time to decide whether Azazel or Serpent would be the next Chancellor. Like earlier, Azazel would count the votes and declare the results
"The votes are in: The Seven Deadly Sins, excluding Lucifer, Beelzebub and Satan with Asmodeus, voted for me: 2, Serpent: 1...I wonder who." Azazel glanced at Mammon, who gave her a middle finger, hoping she would choke on it. But Azazel ignored the child and continued. "Ars Goetia: 11 for me, 4 for the Serpent. And Barrators: 231 for me, 435 for the Serpent, thus one vote for the Serpent. Hence the vote: 13 for me and 6 for Serpent. It's been decided that I, Azazel, mistress of secrets and witch of Sabbath, shall be the new Chancellor of Hell."
Azazel would then sigh as she saw the obvious outcome. "It is with great reluctance that I have agreed to this calling. I love the Stygian Council - I love the Inferno. And as my first act with this new authority, I will create an emergency act of restoration of order in Pandemonium. Both the Capital City and City of Dis shall be restored to their former glory, with the help of our monarchs if they are willing!"
Her proclamation earned some applause from Goetias and Barrators. Beelzebub also clapped her hands, glad that she was chosen. It's still a shame that Baphomet didn't get the entire capital... but the outcome isn't all that bad. As for Lucifer, he was somewhat annoyed, but...it's not a bad decision either. Only Serpent was completely broken. Once upon a time, he had a dream to become something greater...to make things right...and again...He lost that opportunity.
"Now, we must proceed forward. Lord Leviathan, you wanted to make a note to the Council."
"Thank you, Chancellor. Now, Astaroth..." Leviathan would get on his throne. The Great Duke of Hell would raise an eyebrow, not expecting the callout. "What were you thinking...?"
"Be more specific, Leviathan." Astaroth didn't take a shit from Leviathan's threats.
Now that he mentioned it, Leiviathan snapped his fingers. The green aura emitted near him as it summoned Marquis Forneus Goetia here, who is chained and gagged up. Some of the Barrators ooed at this.
"I found this parasite in my ring, attempting to assassinate my heir, Prince Seviathan of Envy!"
"On what basis did you come up with that, Leviathan?" Astaroth dared, crossing his arms.
"He told me everything, Astaroth. It was you who sent him, with exact knowledge of when my heir will leave my ring!"
"Marquis Forneus is under the command of Great Marquis Phenex. If Forneus really did go by the command, it would have been her."
"That's bullshit, and you know it! Once you murdered Vepar to send me a message. Do you seriously think I will believe that Phenex sent him? What a type of fool you think I am?!"
"A big one, you fishfuck!" Astaroth growled back. "No one fucks with Ars Goetia, and you know it! Vepar was a traitor, and you plundered our riches."
"Come and say these words directly at me, I dare you!"
"Try me! Ars Goetia will bury your entire ring in fire!"
Rubbing his forehead, Lucifer came close to just telling the two to shut up...when Azazel intervened instead.
"Enough, two of you. There is no time for infighting and civil wars while Heaven breathes down our necks. Lord Astaroth, pay a fine for Forneus's unfortunate trespassing on Leviathan's Ring. Lord Leviathan, release Forneus back to Astaroth."
"Do what the lady says." Lucifer added...but he was glad that Azazel handled it like a pro. “I feel that we all need a break. Let us take a break for lunch and continue this... discussion later. Sounds okay? Nisroch, come to us and offer your best cuisine!"
The doors to the exit would open with none other than Nisroch, Hell's master of cuisine, and Beelzebub's personal chef, arriving with the cart, full of food and dishes. He provides some of the finest nourishment for the nobles of Hell.
”HotHounds, soup of Wrath! Come and enjoy the finest meals in Inferno!" Nisroch proclaimed as he rang a bell, ready to serve. Of course, nobody complained about that, with many going for the line for food.
As Nisroch served the Council members. Lucifer would also get up from his seat to get some fresh air in the Stygian Council corridors. Here, Azazel was busy being congratulated by Beelzebub in the free time.
"I'm so proud of you, my sister. Under your leadership, I will sleep peacefully, knowing that the capital is in good hands."
"Thank you, your majesty. I'm sure I will be as good as I can be in the capital's affair." Azazel gave a nod, thanking the Queen for such warm words.
Lucifer would also walk near them. Beelzebub immediately walks away, clearly still not wanting to see Lucifer's presence. Serpent, though, would jump out from Lucifer's neck, wanting to crawl closer to her.
"I suppose I should congratulate you, Azazel."
"You sound disappointed..." Azazel noted the tone of Snake's voice. She would also take Serpent in her hands so that she and he could speak equally.
"I mean...it felt like a good opportunity...you know...to do something if I became one instead of you."
"Give your hands to serve and your hearts to love. It is not enough to be compassionate – you must act, Serpent. Even if you lost that opportunity. You still have a chance to do something good. The paths are open to you. You just have to find the right one." Azazel advised.
"But how can I do that? Look at me: I'm a snake...I'm useless."
Azazel would glance at Lucifer who is coming to Leviathan in the meantime, so that she and he can have a private conversation.
"Perhaps we need to talk about a little of the "Toxicity" element in your life, Serpent. Now...listen."
Meanwhile, Leviathan would relax against the wall... well, at least he tried to. He didn't know where Astaroth currently was, probably insulting Forneus for fucking up his assassination plot.
"Come on, you stupid shit." Leviathan complained to himself, trying to light the cigartte...but the lighter didn't.
"Need a light?" Lucifer asked as he came up to Leviathan. He snapped his finger to create a little flame on it and offered it to Leviathan.
Leviathan didn't answer at first; he tried a few times with no avail before giving up and offering the cigar. Lucifer simply brought his finger to the cigar and lit it with ease. The King of Envy still silently puffed a few times, trying to calm his nerves.
"If you think it will make me like you more, then you're gravely mistaken." Leviathan bluntly stated, puffing the cigar.
"Insulting your King, huh?" Lucifer sneered with a grin.
"Very funny, Helel." Leviathan grunted back at him.
Lucifer sighed, deciding to play it seriously. "Listen, I understand that you're angry, but this whole beef between you and Ars Goetia needs to be stopped."
"Oh, I will stop it...under one condition." Leviathan said, puffing a few instances before answering. "I want entire Ars Goetia to be dissolved and their Demons for trial against the Inferno."
"That's not gonna happen."
"Then I won't stop. These parasites killed my wife in the past, and now they tried to kill my grandson. I have full right as King of Hell to be angry at them."
"It's not an excuse to go to war with them." Lucifer still kept his uptightness.
In response, Leviathan would lean his face closer to Lucifer's, wanting him to hear every word that he says.
"I pray for you that nothing similar happens to Lilith or Charlie. Had they been in Vepar's or Seviathan's place, you would have understood my anger. The difference is you're King Of Hell while I'm a regional one..."
Leviathan would lean away, he took a few puffs before just dropping the cigar to the floor and leaving the entire building. It would seem he no longer cared for the Stygian Council anymore. But he would give one final word to Lucifer, hopping he would take it seriously.
"You must understand one thing, Helel. This whole Inferno thing is a fucking joke. It would crumble either by us or Heaven above. Mark my words, everyone will turn their backs against you when you will show weakness."
And with nothing else to add, Leviathan would leave the building.
"As if I don't know it, Leviel..." Lucifer shook her head as he watched him leaving. Despite Leviathan clearly being envious of Inferno's accomplishments, there still was a truth in his words.
Heaven/Asclepius Square/The Empyrean Hospital of St. Raphael/Second Level.
As the Purge came to an end, many Exorcists are returning back to Heaven. The atmosphere after the purge is, at best, somewhat mixed. Most exorcists celebrated that they survived this purge; some were injured and sent for medical treatment...and some would just want to go back home and curl up in bed to sleep off the entire day...
The results of this purge are a bit better than last year. The Pride Legion set a new record for killing Sinners. Sloth nearly broke their record as well, but the Sloth Demons are getting smarter all the time. Only the Wrath Legion performed poorly, due to Satan's Legion's direct involvement. They put up a good fight, even managing to make the Wrath Legion retreat a few times...
And then there was the Hell Capital Purge. Because it was a covert operation, only a few people were aware of it. Despite the fact that they brought a harsh hammer of judgment down on Pandemonium, killing many Inferno officials, Aclima's Legion still lost so many exorcists in the Wild Hunt that it's somewhat possible that the Order of Exorcism would begin active recruitment and training for this entire year.
But that's for Azrael to decide whenever this year's Purge is successful. Ever since Zadkiel's dangerous act, Archangel Uriel's only thoughts were about her. Sacrificing so much energy to Uriel is often a lethal end for an angel... and while Death saved Uriel's life from the Devil, she would prefer that Death not take Zadkiel instead.
At this very moment, Uriel sat on the "waiting appointment" chair near the door where Zadkiel was in the hospital. She played with her "flaming" locks as the edges of her hair slightly flowed like flames, signaling a sincere level of stress. Uriel knew that the Knights Hospitaller were capable of handling the Archangel's health if needed. But in this case, it's only Raphael who can help Zadkiel recover.
As she waited in the disturbing silence of the hall, she heard footsteps approaching. When she looked up, she saw Archangel St. Michael arrive.
"Hey, Mikey...I guess the news spread fast, doesn't it?" Uriel greeted him quietly, her face still tense.
"..." Michael responded, taking a seat in the opposite direction of Uriel.
"Knights mention that she will recover...but I'm still worried if she will recover completely, Michael. The Nexus essence's depletion is what concerns me the most."
"..." Michael lowered his eyes, taking Uriel's concern very seriously. He himself does not possess Raphael's abilities to know when a Angel needs medical attention or not...so it's really up to their younger brother to handle it. But in the worst-case scenario...Michael at least avenged Zadkiel from her offender.
Fortunately, the door to Zadkiel's patient room was opened as the Knight of Hospitaller exited. Uriel immediately got up on her and rushed up to him.
"How is she?"
"I have some bad news and some good news, My Lady." Knight of Hospitaller addressed her with a slightly sad tone, while Michael would also join Uriel. "The Good news: Zadkiel will be fine and well. Raphael departed back to Upper Heaven to bring some essence of nexus. It will help stabilize Zadkiel's psyche in no time."
"And the bad news?"
"...I'm afraid that with the sudden depletion of her powers, she will have to recover them slowly, my lady. For the time being, she cannot fly or use her powers and will have to adjust to humankind's way of life."
Uriel sighed...but still felt relief. Despite the bad news, the good news still outweighed it. Uriel didn't mind if Zadkiel lost his angelic status; what mattered was that Zadkiel was alive and well. In a way, the Lady of Mercy always wanted to understand humanity better...maybe that would be a nice change of pace for her.
"Perhaps you two want to see her? She is still unconscious, but it would be nice if you visited her as soon as you were able to."
"Thank you, Knight." Uriel made a sweet nod.
Both Uriel and Michael would then enter inside. Zadkiel, thankfully, was sleeping peacefully, a smile on her lips. Her halo also once again floated above her, a very good sign that she is recovering.
Uriel would approach Zadkiel, who was lying in bed, and take a seat at the edge of the bed. On the table nearest, there are many gifts for her, often some kind of very sweet food or letters of appreciation. Michael would actually come up and take one of the letters to see what was inside for repercussions; if there was even one negative thing written about Zadkiel, he would be furious.
"Rest well, Our Dearest. ❤" - Y. and A.
Ironically, even Michael smiled at that, despite the fact that he rarely does since Helel's betrayal. And this is just a one letter. There were at least 20 such letters to her, mostly from her siblings and other important figures in Heaven. If all of Heaven had known about Zadkiel's unfortunate accident, the toll of letters would have been in the millions.
The Protector of Earth then gently came up to Uriel as the Archangel of Light sat at the edge of the bed, observing her sister.
"Look at her, Mikey...so peaceful." Uriel whispered gently, not wanting to disturb her. Michael nodded to that, agreeing with Uriel...it's a nice change of pace for him...seeing the cuteness.
Another 5 minutes will pass as Uriel and Michael watch over their sleeping sister. They didn't want to disturb Zadkiel's chest rose and down as she gently slept...Seeing her like this, good father, made Uriel feel more... hopeful.
*Knock-Knock*
The door then opened with Gabriel himself peeking out his head before he entered inside, revealing him holding a bouquet on flowers, straight from the Mountains of Heaven.
"I didn't realize you all were here." Gabriel whispered as he also came to Zadkiel's bed, placing flowers in the vase, a vase full of flowers as well.
"How was your sleep?" Uriel quietly asked. Michael actually raised his left eyebrow upon hearing this.
"Refreshing...been ages since I had a good eyes close...didn't help with paperwork piling up, though." Gabriel smirked before he glanced at Zadkiel, his smile turned from completely worried to a worried one. "Look at her...poor girl."
"She sacrificed too much, Gabriel." Uriel whispered, caressing Zadkiel's arm in comfort.
"Damm..." Gabriel returned it, certain that it had something to do with the little deal she and Helel had struck. "I don't want to sound urgent, but, Uriel, could we talk? It's about this whole purge thing. I just have to leave soon for my duties."
Uriel at first didn't respond, instead glancing back at their sister. Ultimately, she would lean in and kiss Zadkiel's forehead, as a sign of gratitude.
"Thank you, Zadkiel...for everything."
And with that sweet goodbye moment, she would get out of bed and proceed to the exit, with Gabriel following her. Michael still remained in the room for his own reasons.
Together with the Messenger of God, the Light of God would leave the hospital and go a bit away so that no one could eavesdrop on their conversation.
"How did things go down there?" Gabriel asked.
"At the cost, mostly. Eve told me that both Chancellor Adramelech and Lord Regent Iblis perished in the Purge...thus we fulfilled our part of the bargain."
"But?" Gabriel waited for the catch.
"It was a setup, Gabe. None other than the Devil himself mind trapped our exorcists to let me and Zadkiel rescue them from his mind games. Then he tried to tempt me to switch allegiances. We fought, but he proved too much for us, even as Zadkiel sacrificed her own powers to bolster my resistance... then....You would not believe it, but our "Aunt Death" rescued me."
"Rescued?" Gabriel repeated himself in confusion.
"Yeah... it sounds ridiculous, I know." Uriel also finds it ridiculous, so she was fine with Gabriel not believing her this time. "Then I found myself once more here, with Zadkiel unconscious on the floor. And the next thing we know, Aclima's assault legion has been ambushed by the Riders of the Wild Hunt."
"Oh, Sweet Asherah..." Gabriel cursed, now seeing the full picture. "So, this whole thing was Helel's ruse?"
"I'm not sure... felt too good to be Helel's ruse."
"Whatever it is..I don't like it, Uriel. If the Devil is involved, then it's clear something wicked is happening behind our backs." Gabriel expressed, still not forgetting that he must leave. "I will have to go. We will talk about this later, ok? I don't trust this whole deal we made... and I'm even more skeptical with the Devil's involvement."
Uriel gave a nod as Gabriel left the vicinity. When he was gone, she went to the nearest street bench to take a little rest for herself. Her mind still raced with so many questions after this whole fiasco with the Devil.
The future is what worried her the most. The Devil's plans never ended with one note; they always moved forward, no matter if he succeeded or not. And with what the Divines said to her, it's only makes it even more concerning.
"To be hopeful means to be uncertain about the future, to be tender toward possibilities, to be dedicated to change all the way down to the bottom of your heart, my light."
"Wait, who said-" Uriel hummed before looking to the left and gasping out shock. Al. Mitty has returned, dressed in a white jumpsuit with the tag "Al Mitty" written on it.
"Oh, for the love of - again!? What's with you appearing out of nowhere every time?" Uriel complained to him. Al. Mitty wasn't even looking at her before he slowly turned his head toward her.
"...There was a burning bush once, My Light." He delivered it neutrally...but he couldn't help but smile as a grin formed on his lips.
"Didn't help poor Moses in the slightest, huh?..." Uriel shook her head, giving him that sass.
"Someone is sassy..." Al Mitty was also not serious with the question. "But true, I suppose. That's why you all proclaim "Be not afraid" to them, hm?"
"It only works rarely. I scared Noah, Ezra and John with my appearance...feels I'm like a freak sometimes." Uriel sighed at the end, touching her cheek. Al Mitty didn't respond at first, but as Uriel rubbed her face, he noticed her mood shift into depression.
"My Light, you don't have to blame yourself." He broke the silence yet again. "Zadkiel was aware of the dangers, and she gladly accepted them out of love for you and Azrael's knights."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Uriel expressed her displeasure, but Al Mitty didn't mind; she had every right to be. "I told her everything about me and Helel, and I trusted her to keep our secret safe. And she had to step in when the Devil was involved... I should not have told her."
"Think differently, my Light. What would have happened if Zadkiel hadn't been there? Azrael's knights would have succumbed to sin. Aclima would have most likely died... Every action has multiple outcomes... some are better than others."
"You're only saying this to make me feel better. Miss Schaffer and LeBlanc both had no idea what had happened to Knight Rönne and Darnel." Uriel murmured softly.
"Maybe, my Light. But I'm also stating a fact for you...and how can you be certain that they died during the Purge?" Al. Mitty confidently returned it...but he can't deny that seeing her like this...very it's sad. It's not the first time she's been like this...and the last time she secluded herself into the nearest Sun of Heaven for a long time...poor girl.
Al Mitty would then rise from the bench and approach Uriel, crouching down so she could see his eyes...both share the same pupil color.
"You fear that Zadkiel would have been taken by Death, My Light?"
"...I lost a lot of my siblings already...I don't want to lose her too." Uriel sniffed a bit.
"I know, my dearest. But even Death would not allow these type of meddlings of other Primordial spirits. She has our backup, anytime."
Al. Mitty then motioned with his head to where she should look. Uriel looked up to see Death herself: in typical attractive young goth form. She was leaning against the building's wall, winking at Uriel as soon as she saw Primordial Spirit... until a random passerby passed by, blocking Uriel's vision of her, and Death was gone at this point.
Uriel would return the smirk, clearly indicating that her depression had passed. Seeing the light of God lightened up a bit. Al. Mitty would return to the bench; they were still not done, and he knew that Uriel still needed answers.
"I understand that you're wondering what exactly the Devil's goal was with you?" Al. Mitty asked her that before shaking his head slowly. "It's nothing good, My Light. The more he corrupts, the more he gains strength from misery and chaos. By having you, it would have been a fine addition for his child, Sin, to feed upon."
"But what are his end goals then? He expressed how he sought to fix the Creation."
"If I told you fully, it would take us another millennium to explain it, My Light. But understand this: if he succeeds, nothing good will come of it. It's not his ultimate goal to destroy Heaven... It's just a small part of what he really wants. The Devil's bitterness toward everything for which Creation stands is what he despises. Chaos and destruction are his primal instincts, and he won't stop until everything is finished."
"So Helel wasn't involved with him?"
"No, Helel himself is currently in a very tense situation...even with disaster approaching him very soon. When he arrived here, his goal to make a deal with you was genuine. He really wanted someone to finish off Hell's own religious institution. Of course, he also wanted you to suffer, but what can I say...he still somewhat resents you all up here. But he is at least ready to tolerate you."
"And Charlie?" Uriel continued.
"As for her...you will find out... soon ." Al Mitty smirked at the end as he turned his head to see someone was approaching...or floating to them more correctly.
It's actually a Cherub, in the form of a small anthropomorphic sheep with light yellow fur, along with a white halo and pale yellow wings. Her eyes have purple pupils with pink irises, and she wears a yellow dress with a pink hem, along with a pink bowtie.
"Ah, Keenie..." Uriel whispered, with Al Mitty making a nod.
"Hello there, my Lady. My apologies if I am disturbing your conversation with -" Keenie paused as she looked at her strange friend. "- Janitor over here. But I was sent by Deerie to remind you that the Great Library requests your urgent presence here...we have problems with the book collection...so I was told."
"Are you serious? Could they do nothing without my help?" Uriel complained. This is the fifth time since last month.
"Well, we all must do our Lord's bidding, don't we? I doubt our Lord would be pleased if one of his most powerful Archangels ignored his commands."
"And what gives you that impression, Keenie?" Al. Mitty made a remark to Cherub. Both Uriel and Keenie would look at him, puzzled. "You claim that your 'Lord' requires our light to perform his dibbing. But what if the opposite were true? Perhaps our "Lord" wants his daughter, whom he loves, to take it easy for herself and find peace in her troubled mind. She, in fact, took a lot of risks."
Uriel, ironically, smiled warmly at this, grateful for what he had done for her. To say Al. Mitty warmed her heart would be an understatement....
"Nonsense!" Keenie completely ignored his statement. "We can't expect God to do all the work! So we must do all our part for heaven in his name."
"But have you wondered if you do it for your own genuine intent or because your "Lord" told you so?"
"...What?!" Keenie asked again if her ears had been tempted by the Devil or if she had just heard HERESY...in HEAVEN! "What kind of nonsense is this? Of course I do because MY LORD has commanded me to!"
"Did he, huh?" Al. Mitty smirked, and Uriel had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. "When was the last time you saw your lord?"
"...are you seriously asking me that, mortal?!"
"Answer the question, Keenie." Al. Mitty didn't like her avoidance of the question.
"Why should I answer to you?"
"You're avoiding my question again, Keenie." Al. Mitty pushed further...he preferred if Keenie would not go full "Cain mode" on him.
"FINE!" Keenie exclaimed out of the blue, getting pissed off. "Our Lord is all around us! I can hear his voice every time, and I don't need to see him, as I know he's always with us. He reigns from Heaven above with wisdom, power, and love!"
"Oh, I don't doubt that you hear his voice at this very moment, Keenie. But your overzealousness toward him worries me. You must stop using your "Lord" and Father , mind you, as an excuse for all your actions and do it out of your heart instead." Al. Mitty noted his tone on the "Father" word. He still remained calm and passionate toward Keenie...even if she was making a fool of herself...in front of him .
"SCREW YOU, YOU DEFILER!" Keenie had enough of this blatant blasphemy and tarnation of the Lord's name.. "I don't know how Our Lord granted you a paradise, but I'm going to make sure that this behavior is reported to the Heavenly Host. Michael will whoop your ass out of Heaven! Mark my words!"
And Keenie would take off so fast, leaving Uriel and Al Mitty behind. But Uriel would burst out laughing...so ironic and so poetic.
"Enjoyed the show?" Al. Mitty smirked back at her.
"Well, No. I mean..." Uriel tried to calm herself. "This is so ironic, and just...she made a fool of herself in front of you."
"Keenie is smart and devoted, My Light. But her own overzealous devotion will be her own undoing. But as Cherub Serpent before, Keenie must walk her own path and learn from her mistakes. In time...she will find her peace."
"Yeah, that's true..." Uriel nodded to that, seeing wisdom in Al. Mitty's words. "Well, I suppose I should return back to the Library...you heard her: The Lord above commands me...apparently." She joked at the end.
"You tell me, My Light...maybe I should go back to 'maintaining' Heaven as well. After all, the Lord commands me." Al. Mitty returned the joke to her.
"Him...or my mother, actually?" Uriel smirked, reminding him.
"Fair point...she would not appreciate it if 'Lord' were not with her at this moment."
Archangel Uriel would make a gentle laugh, seeing that his humor had improved a bit. Helel probably did his thing in the case. But the Light of God would walk up and embrace him in a tight hug.
"Thank you for everything...and for helping me out."
"You don't have to thank me, my dearest. We are always there for you." Al Mitty returned the hug.
Ending their sweet moment. Uriel would let go of him before she moved a bit away, giving him one final look before her magnificent wings were engulfed in flames as she lifted herself up and flew away into the distance.
Al. Mitty still observed her before she disappeared from his vicinity. He would shift his eyes at the Hell above them, peacefully orbiting.
"Be aware of Wendigo, Charlie. He will come to you with smiles of deception."
Hell/Blasphemy Ring/Pandemonium/Stygian Council/The Main Chamber.
*Some hours later*
The rest of the council meeting continued somewhat...normal. The majority of the time was spent debating the status of Limbo. Astaroth expressed a concern about the eventual integration of it back into Inferno, as colonization is somewhat in progress, meaning that Limbo would become a new Ring or someone would annex it. Many debates were held on who should hold it, but often no one had a united expression.
Lucifer, at this point, was completely bored. He won't lie, he would have liked to see more of Leviathan's fights with Astaroth if he hadn't left... but oh well.
However, their little fun times have to be stopped. One of the Barrators, belonging to Gluttony, would come up to Queen Beelzebub, asking for an audience. She agreed with a simple hand gesture, and Barrator whispered the news in her ear. Judging by the sudden shock, it was something special.
"I'm afraid I must interrupt our current topic. We have some breaking news coming from the Pride Ring. Belphegor, my favorite sweetheart, please switch to Channel 666 on your vid, please."
Lucifer would raise his eyebrows, not sure what Beelzebub's game was. But the Queen of Sloth would type something on the screen from her stream before opening a window on her computer for a direct translation. At first glance, it seems to be just a news channel, with Katie Killjoy, or whatever her name is, typically providing the news...and yet...
She was here.
"Sweetie belle?" Lucifer whispered, blinking a few times.
" Welcome back! So, Charlotte!"
"It's... Charlie." Charlie smiled nervously on the screen.
"Whatever, tell us about this new passion project you've been insistently pestering our news station about!" Katie Killjoy tries to hold in her outburst by clenching her pen.
Charlie didn't respond immediately, looking at someone off to the side.
" Well, as most of you know, I was born here in Hell and growing up, I always tried to see the good in everyone around me."
That rhetoric caused some Barrators to whisper to one another, and Lucifer was perplexed as to what the fuck Charlie was up to. He's fine with opening a hotel, but now she's in the news?!
"Hell is my home and you are my people. We... we just went through another extermination. We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year. No one is even given a chance!"
Charlie then walks up from Killjoy's desk. "I can't stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such violence! So, I've been thinking: Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell?" She then walked around the audience, with camera still following her. “Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through... redemption?"
"Redemption? What is this pile of Limbonian nonsense?!" Astaroth expressed his shock at their heir's obvious devotion to Heaven.
"Shut it, Goetia!" Lucifer warned as he was busy listening to the entire thing.
"Well, I think yes! So, that's what this project aims to achieve!" Charlie once more returned to Killjoy's desk. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners! ... Y'know? 'Cause hotels are for people passin' through... temporarily... I think it'll serve a purpose... a place to work toward redemption... yay...!
" Stupid bitch." Even the cameraman snickered at Charlie's idea. But it earned him a punch as the camera was shaken...kudos to whoever punched that demon.
"Look, every single one of you has something good, deep down inside. I know you do! ...Maybe I'm not getting through to you."
Charlie snapped her fingers as the room turned dark and a spotlight was shown over a piano that Charlie, Razzle and Dazzle started performing on.
♫ I have a dream, I'm here to tell! / About a wonderful fantastic new hotel! ♫
♫ Yes, it's one-of-a-kind! Right here in Hell, catering to a specific clientele. ♫
Charlie's message emitted agony and suffering in the Stygian Council even as she began to sing. And Lucifer...well let's just say that if Satan were here, he would have been proud of the kind of wrath Lucifer emitted.
Though it's not that the demons were horrified by Charlie's singing. No, she did sing flawlessly... but it was the message that caused it all. Charlie Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer and Lilith and the Heir of Hell's Inferno...Is a Devildamm Heaven Sympathizer.
THE WORST of Inferno's kind!
"Turn that shit off, Belle!" Lucifer screamed in full fury, not wanting to see Charlie become a clown of the Third Age.
Belphegor immediately turned off the broadcast. But it didn't stop the yelling and screaming in the Council. Only Azazel was very quiet; the news of Charlie's grand opening didn't change her mood in the slightest.
"Is this really our heir to the inferno? We've been fighting Heaven's invaders since the beginning of Inferno, and our future queen is attempting to redeem sinners?" Beelzebub rallied her supporters all around.
But Lucifer is still pondering the message—to say he is perplexed is an understatement. His mind kept repeating the phrase "prepare for unknown consequences" until it finally hit him.
He knew it from the start.
He knew Charlie would do this.
And hence, no longer really caring to be here, Lucifer now has to get himself out here without anyone noticing him leaving. Even if Charlie caused a shitshow of the century, Lucifer's leaving would just make it worse.
His eyes would catch on Mammon, who was busy being high as fuck.
"Pst, Mammon!" Lucifer whispered as quietly as possible.
Mammon would blink a few times as he looked back at King Pride. Lucifer would then summon the same ingots that Mammon gave him earlier. He made a gesture for Mammon to make a distraction, and we will have his ingots back. Plus, Lucifer will close his eyes on Loo Loo Land.
Rubbing his hands eagerly, Mammon would look at what was happening with the council.
" ~ This is unacceptable behavior! Not only was our capital ravaged, but now our heir behaves like this! If this is not addressed immediately, we will face the greatest crisis since King Minos!" Astaroth expressed his displeasure at seeing this as well.
"Oh, yeah?!"
"I will show you the biggest controversy yet, Astaroth!"
It caused members of the Council to focus on Mammon, as the King of Greed raised himself on his feet and made the spotlights face him.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Swindlers, gold diggers, and floozies, here's the moment you've all been waiting for: a warm statement of a century."
Mammon then revealed a banner and raised it above him for all to see.
BEELZEBUB SUCKS ARS BAEL'S COCK!
The shitshow started with Beelzebub and Astaroth yelling at Mammon... and at each other, in a clear image attack on both Ars Goetia and the Ring of Gluttony. What followed was a shouting match between pretty much everyone... that makes your average debates look like a joke.
Lucifer would just teleport himself away as Mammon still held the sign above, even making his hips shake as he laughed like a clown at Beelzebub's angry screams.
"I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU, MAMMON!" Beelzebub screamed in fury, getting up from her chair and running towards Mammon.
"Hoes mad! HOES MAD!" Mammon laughed in joy as he ran away from his sister, tossing banana peels and pretty much all of the clown kit at her.
Azazel had no reaction to this, so the Witch of Secrets shrugged before summoning a book and starting to read it in her spare time. This is going to be an interesting time as the New Chancellor of Hell.
[REDACTED], [REDACTED]
In the Land of Treachery Ring, perhaps there were a few times when the Frozen Wasteland could rejoice in the Capital's sacking. As the Wild Hunt unleashed its fury on the exorcists, they managed to capture a lot of them alive and bring them down to the Ninth Ring for soul processing...
In Devil's prison, Mephistopheles is currently bowed before the Dark Lord, delivering the news.
"We're swooping into the Eighth Ring's wilderness. However, the "prodigal ones" have yet to be found. We believe they escaped back to Nexus."
The Devil hummed in response, albeit not at Mephistopheles. He sensed the presence of a sin bearer, and his wrath and pride erupted.
"Of course...he is here." The Devil murmured to himself.
Before, the King of the Wild Hunt could not question his master. The gates would open with Lucifer stomping inside, completely furious.
"YOU TREACHEROUS SPIRIT! HOW DARE YOU BREAK OUR PACT!" Lucifer screamed at the Devil as he stormed towards him. The Dark Lord remained still and silent, his features darkening. But he would command Mephistopheles to leave them alone for now.
"You're being irrational, Bearer of Pride." The Devil calmly stated. He doesn't appreciate when someone is screaming at him.
"Don't start with this bullshit! You promised an heir, and you delivered a rebellious and spoiled child! How dare you break our pact while I have been-"
"ENOUGH!" This time, it was the Devil who rose to his feet in rage at Lucifer. "I gave you everything you ever wanted, Bearer of Pride! But it doesn't mean you can insult my presence any time you want!"
The Devil then immediately shifted into a calm and enigmatic state, as he usually does.
"I warned you about the unforeseen consequences of Charlie pursuing her idea. But you neglected it entirely and let your paranoia about the Bearer of Wrath and Gluttony going after you consume your mind!"
"You and I both know they want to overthrow me! If Charlie pursues this goal further, it will jeopardize my throne!"
"Understandable, Bearer of Pride. You promised so much and yet delivered so little that their boiling hatred of you is increasing every day."
"Then allow me to kill them off, and I will grant you a different Lord of Sins. We don't need Beelzebub or Satan."
"No, bearer of Pride. It would only worsen Hell's imbalance. All of them are bearers of sins that they embraced as archangels. Unless you want your throne to be safe, they too must be alive. Consequences are severe in every direction."
"Fine, then manipulate Charlie's mind. Make her hate the Sinners!" Lucifer complained even more.
"I won't do that."
"You're a fucking Primordial Spirit, Evil one!"
"Do not be an arrogant fool. Even if you refer to me as "God," I cannot or will not change someone's mind. Neither me nor them ." The Devil pointed his finger up, hoping that Lucifer understood what he meant.
Lucifer scowled at that, not enjoying excuses...stupid ass Primordial Spirits, and their never ending "holier than thou" behavior.
"But tell me, Bearer of Pride. What was your original goal, getting into Heaven?" The Devil continued.
"I wanted Iblis dead." Lucifer simply answered, not surprised that he knew it. "He could have used his influence to smear Charlie, calling her a heretic or not. By using Heaven, I put the entire blame on them for Iblis's death. Plus, I wanted to show Charlie how disgusting the realm above us can be if they killed him. It would have a been good reason for Charlie to drop her idea."
"So you used the Bearer of Light's good nature for your own gains?" The Devil enjoyed the irony. Both the bearers of mercy and light suffered because of Lucifer's arrogance.
"Uriel should have been more distrustful with me then. Not my problem." Lucifer waved him off.
"And you wonder why Charlie is becoming like you." Devil showed his disappointment in his tone. "I offer you some advice: If you don't wish to get Charlie on your bad side. Make sure that her little project will fail. Send your overlords, your goons—it doesn't matter. But never reveal that it was you."
"...And if she will succeed?"
"Then you will find that your time as King of my realm will be your undoing. Tread carefully, Bearer of Pride. Your actions have many unintended consequences for Charlie, for you, and for everyone."
Lucifer without a word, would "sort-off" take the Spirit's advice and just leave his prison, not wanting to waste his time in frozen wasteland. Talking with the evil spirit is a waste of time, especially given how deceptive he is.
The Devil still observed him while he was in the vicinity...only a single grin was shown on the Dark Lord's face. He'd summon a portal, watching Charlie sing "Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow.
And once more...
Everything is going according to his will.
"The Troupe of Hell"
By Devil
Devil's singing: normal text
Every Demon's and Sinner's Shadow In Hell: ( Bold Text)
Author's Note: The Lyrics and overall "Theme" is based on "Hollow Knight - Grimm - With Lyrics" by Man on the Internet. Check it out the song at here . It's pretty great song!
"Wonderful, WONDERFUL!"
"My Anti-Christ ascended and the time has come!"
"This searing fire..."
"She carries well the ritual's promise!"
"Dance with me, my little Angel!"
"The Hell awaits!"
"Show them you're worthy of a Morningstar's name!"
"♪ I'm Standing higher, ♪"
"♪ Adding fuel to the fire! ♪"
"♪ Hear the Hell roar! ♪"
"♪ Hear them screaming for more! ♪"
"♪ Now, embrace a sin! ♪"
"♪ Leave the mortal world behind! ♪"
"♪ Abandon every hope, who enter here! ♪"
"♪ Join in the nightmare! ♪"
(Embrace the sins with a fleeting fire!)
(Through our suffering, we shall honor him!)
(Damm The Child Of Beating Fire!)
(Sing your damnation for Master Devil!)
"♪ Even discarded can dream! ♪"
"♪ Witness what the Creation brings! ♪"
"♪ I'm Standing higher! ♪"
(Embrace the sins with a fleeting fire!)
"♪ Adding fuel to the fire! ♪"
(Through our suffering, we shall honor him!)
"♪ Hear the Hell roar! ♪"
(Damm The Child Of Beating Fire!)
"♪ Hear them screaming for more! ♪"
(Sing your damnation for Master Devil!)
"♪ Now, embrace a sin! ♪"
"♪ Leave the mortal world behind! ♪"
"♪ Abandon every hope, who enter here! ♪"
"♪ Join in the nightmare! ♪"
Hahahahahaha!
"♪ Through the Nexus Halls! ♪"
"♪ With a ritual of betrayal! ♪"
"♪ Stalking the Archangel that bears my Pride! ♪"
"♪ Back to the start! ♪"
"♪ At the Garden's heart! ♪"
"♪ Take Helel to the stage so I can play my part! ♪"
"♪ The Children of God gathered there! ♪"
"♪ Showtime is near! ♪"
"♪ Lucifer beware! ♪"
"♪ Fall into arrogance! ♪"
"♪ I will teach you pride! ♪"
"♪ I'm Standing higher! ♪"
(Embrace the sins with a fleeting fire!)
"♪ Adding fuel to the fire! ♪"
(Through our suffering, we shall honor him!)
"♪ Hear the Hell roar! ♪"
(Damm The Child Of Beating Fire!)
"♪ Hear them screaming for more! ♪"
(Sing your damnation for Master Devil!)
"♪ Now, take a fall! ♪"
"♪ Leave Heaven behind! ♪"
"♪ Abandon all hope in you! ♪"
"♪ Now you will join in the nightmare! ♪"
Hahahahahaha!
"♪ Here, in Hell! ♪"
"♪ Join the dance and sing! ♪"
(Burn the father!)
(Damm the child!)
(Burn the father!)
(Damm the child!)
(Burn the father!)
(Damm the child!)
(Burn the father!)
(Damm the child!)
"♪ Through the Studio! ♪"
(Burn the father!)
"♪ With a ritual of Despair! ♪"
(Damm the child!)
"♪ Stalking the child that bears my pride! ♪"
(Burn the father, Damm the child!)
"♪ Back to the start! ♪"
(Burn the father!)
"♪ At the nightmare's heart! ♪"
(Damm the child!)
"♪ Take Charlie to the stage so I can play my part! ♪"
(Burn the father! D amm the child!)
"♪ The Dammed Troupe gathered there! ♪"
"♪ Showtime is near! ♪"
"♪ Let her performance move all to tears! ♪"
"♪ Come to the fair! ♪"
"♪ Charlie beware! ♪"
"♪ Fall into agony! ♪"
"♪ I will teach you despair! ♪"
"♪ Cameras are beaming! ♪"
"♪ Here, we are all watching! ♪"
"♪ Audience laughing! ♪"
(BURN-THE-CHILD!)
(DAMM-THE-HOTEL!)
♪" Wendigo will come! ♪"
"♪ All through the hotel! ♪"
"♪ You lift your smile, he heeds the call! ♪"
"♪ Child of Fate! ♪"
"♪ Trough bloodshed and destruction! ♪"
"♪ Is filled with hollowed hopes through the smiles you create! ♪"
"♪ The Damned Troupe gathered here! ♪"
"♪ Showtime is near! ♪"
"♪ Charlie beware! ♪"
"♪ Fall into grief! ♪"
"♪ I will teach you to obey! ♪"
Hahahahahahaha!
"♪ I'm Standing higher! ♪"
(Embrace the sins with a fleeting fire!)
"♪ Adding fuel to the fire! ♪"
(Through our suffering, we shall honor him!)
"♪ Hear the Hell roar! ♪"
(Damm The Child Of Beating Fire!)
"♪ Hear them screaming for more! ♪"
(Sing your damnation for Master Devil!)
"♪ Now, take a crown! "♪
"♪ Leave your Hotel behind! "♪
"♪ Abandon all hope in you! "♪
"♪ Now you will join in the nightmare! "♪
Hahahahahaha!
"♪ Here, in Hell! "♪
"♪ Join the dance and sing! "♪
(Burn the Hotel)
(Damm the Heaven)
(Burn the Hotel)
(Damm the Heaven)
(Burn the Hotel)
(Damm the Heaven)
(Burn the Hotel)
(Damm the Heaven)
"♪ Through the ruins of the Hotel! ♪"
(Burn the Hotel)
"♪ With a ritual of War! ♪"
(Damm the Heaven)
"♪ Stalking the child that bears Seth's blood! ♪"
(Burn the Hotel, Damm the Heaven)
"♪ Back to the start! ♪"
(Burn the Hotel)
"♪ At the nightmare's heart! ♪"
(Damm the Heaven)
"♪ Take Vaggie to the stage so I can play my part! ♪"
(Burn the Hotel, Damm the Heaven)
"♪ The Hell's Army gathered there! ♪"
"♪ Showtime is near! ♪"
"♪ Let her Performance move all for the kill! ♪"
"♪ Come to the fair! ♪"
"♪ Vaggie beware! ♪"
"♪ Fall into oblivion! ♪"
"♪ I will teach you to not resist ! ♪"
"♪ The Demons are marching! ♪"
"♪ Here, we are all watching! ♪"
"♪ ANGELS ARE SCREAAAAAMIIIIING! ♪"
(BURN-THE-HEAVEN!)
(DAMM!)
(BURN-THE-MORTAL-WORLD!)
(DAMM-THE-HELL!)
...
And now
Let The Show Begin
The Pentagram City's outskirts/The Morningstar's Compound
And once more he finds himself in the same situation.
The King of Hell sat on the floor, near Charlie's old room, even though she isn’t here. Sooner or later, the entire Inferno will hear of Charlie's disastrous interview. And her downfall will be interesting. Sinners at best would not care...but Goetia and the rest of Demon Nobility...oh boy. He will have wild year, probably now trying to suppress or crush the rebellions. And the loyalty of many of his so-called "Loyalists" will be questionable at this point...
Damn you, Charlie.
You take too much after your father...
And now...Lucifer has to somehow get himself busy from these thoughts...in the only way he knows...
*Ding-Dong*
"Ugh, finally!" Lucifer exclaimed. He quickly rushed to the front door, opening it with eagerness. The delivery service sinner stood outside, with a van parked nearby.
"You're uhh...Lucifer "Daddy" Morningstar?" The Mailman Sinner checked his notes.
"What kind of question is that? Of course, I'm Lucifer "Daddy" Morningstar. How many Lucifer Morningstars do you know, shithead?!"
"...I take it as a yes. Please sign here and here." The Sinner Mailman wrote it down before giving it to Lucifer. Lucifer wrote his symbol as a signature and handed it back to him. "321 boxes to you, my lord. "Where should we drop them?"
"Just leave them outside. Give me one of the boxes, at least."
"Alright, thank you for using the Helluva Post service department." The courier handed over at least one box.
"Yeah, bye." Lucifer uncaringly slammed the door before giggling like a child. "Oh, boy-boy-boy, finally!"
Lucifer laughed in joy as he rushed to the living room. He threw the box down, unwrapping it with his claws and opening it to admire its splendor.
"Yes...YES!" Lucifer proclaimed in delight...if only a Seraphim choir could have backed him up. But finally, he has...
This
"Oh, my beauty!" Lucifer proclaimed, tearing up. But what if it-
*Squeak*
" *Gasp* IT EVEN SQUEAKS! WHO NEEDS LILITH NOW!! THIS IS THE BEST THING IN MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE!" Lucifer exclaimed. He then looked left and right, wanting to show Serpent his new toy. He would find Serpent's box on the living room floor, completely silent.
"HEY, SNAKE! GUESS WHAT?! I HAVE A DUCK TOY NOW!" Lucifer kicked the box to wake Serpent up. But Serpent's box would remain silent. "WAKE THE FUCK UP, SERPENT! WE HAVE MANY DUCKS NOW TO PLAY WITH!"
Lucifer then just grabbed the box and threw it away, not respecting Serpent's privacy. Surprisingly, Serpent wasn't here...in fact, there is only a small letter on the pile of some newspapers that Serpent used as a bed.
"A Letter?" Confused, The King of Pride would take the letter to read it.
"My Dear Lucifer
"If you're reading this, then it means I'm long gone from home."
"After seeing the Ninth Ring of Hell, losing to Azazel, and now Charlie's grand opening of her Hotel. It finally dawned on me what I needed to do.
"You saw it with your own eyes, Lucifer. More and more, Inferno is collapsing under the weight of its nobles' backstabbing and political maneuverings."
"When you rebelled, you promised us freedom from tyranny from God. And what did we get in exchange? The same system, but with you in charge."
"By Inferno's actions in Limbo, causing an Annual Extermination upon us. Sinners became an crossfire between us and Heaven. "
"But not just for Sinners... but for the whole Inferno."
"Why should Hellborns suffer from their government's actions?"
"Why should hellhounds suffer in adoption centers because their Khan Lycaon tried to conquer the Ars Theurgian Empire a long time ago?"
"Why are imps just a tool for Satan to conquer his enemies?"
"Charlie was the first of Inferno's nobility to realize this problem. By opening their hotel, she is challenging the fundamental structure of Inferno."
"Demons need to understand for what Hell became: a tyrannical absolute oligarchy, no way better than Heaven back then."
"And those who advocated for liberty, equality, and fraternity, be it Legatus Moxxara or Marchosias Goetia. How have we responded to them?"
"We called them "Heaven Sympathizers" and declared them "Traitors to Demonkind.“ Does it sound familiar to you?"
"When will the time come when Charlie will be declared as one of them?"
"That's why I'm leaving you all, Lucifer."
"I will try to help create a new social movement to bring your promises to full fruition."
"We need a new system, where the Stygian Council answers to the will of demons, not its monarchs."
"You may consider me a traitor; you may pursue me or even crash my attempts for Hell's better future. But you should at least be aware of this case."
"Charlie sees your hypocrisy more and more as she grows up. How long before she becomes like you when you rallied us?"
"History loves to repeat itself, Lucifer. And the question is: will you be ready to raise your sword against your daughter?"
"I pray to our Father that it won't come to this. But you never know what The Devil's plans really are these days..."
"Goodbye, Helel. I will miss you."
- Eternally your brother in Heavenly Host, Cherub Serpentel of Eden.
If it had been another Deadly Sin, he or she would have ripped the letter completely, laughed it off, and thrown the pieces away. And yet, Lucifer simply dropped the letter back on the pile of newspapers and walked back to the nearest couch, dropping himself. And now both Charlie and Serpent are poisoned by their "The Will of Demons" bullshit.
And again, this whole "Charlie becomes like you"...did he really pave the path for Charlie to cause another rebellion...the same way he did once...and here, Lucifer only knows one solution.
...
Nothing.
Just nothing.
Once he was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all creation, but Sera saw him as nothing more than a troublemaker who posed a threat to the order of God's world. Ironically, she was right in the end... Lucifer only saw the worst of humanity and the horrific results of his actions....
...
Lucifer once more lost his will to dream.
THE END OF EPISODE 2
...
...
...
Heaven/Empyrean City/Somewhere in Streets of Ettica/Celestial Elysium
In the heart of Heaven, nestled among clouds that shimmered like pearls in the eternal sunlight, stood the most prestigious restaurant in all of creation: Celestial Elysium. Its grand exterior boasted towering columns of alabaster marble, adorned with intricate golden filigree that seemed to dance in the celestial breeze. The entrance, flanked by majestic angelic statues, exuded an aura of opulence and exclusivity.
Inside, the ambiance was equally magnificent. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow upon the richly decorated dining hall, where tables draped in fine silk awaited. esteemed guests. The air was filled with the melodious strains of celestial music, performed by an ensemble of heavenly musicians.
Amidst this luxurious setting, a waiter glided gracefully through the hall, a platter of exquisitely prepared delicacies balanced on his outstretched arm. He approached a table nestled in a secluded alcove, where a figure of unparalleled elegance sat regally.
"Ms. Lilith," the waiter bowed respectfully, placing the platter before her with a flourish.
Lilith inclined her head graciously, acknowledging the gesture before delicately slicing into the culinary masterpiece before her. With each bite, she savored the intricate flavors, her demeanor composed and dignified.
However, her poised composure shattered as the resounding slam of the entrance doors echoed through the restaurant. All eyes turned towards the source of the disturbance, and there, standing in the doorway, was Detective Eve, her expression a tempest of fury.
With two reports clutched tightly in her left hand, Eve advanced towards the dining area, only to be intercepted by the entrance greeter.
"I'm sorry, madam, but you must have a booking to enter." The greeter said politely, though his tone betrayed a hint of trepidation.
Eve's gaze narrowed, her patience wearing thin. Without a word, she produced a badge emblazoned with the Eye of Providence, holding it out for the greeter to see.
"Do you really want to continue to bother the Agent of Providence, Winner?" She asked, her voice laced with authority and a warning edge.
The greeter's eyes widened in recognition as he took in the emblem on Eve's badge, a symbol of her authority within the celestial hierarchy. He swallowed hard, his demeanor shifting from defiance to deference in an instant.
"My apologies, Agent Genesis." He stammered, stepping aside to allow her passage. "Please, forgive the intrusion. You may proceed."
Eve nodded curtly, her steely gaze sweeping over the room as she made her way towards Lilith's table. With each determined step, the atmosphere seemed to crackle with tension, the other patrons exchanging nervous glances as they observed the unfolding scene.
Lilith, unfazed by the commotion, watched Eve's approach with a calm expression, her crimson lips curving into a faint smirk. As Eve reached her table, Lilith gestured gracefully for her to take a seat, a silent invitation to join her.
"Detective Eve," Lilith greeted, her voice smooth as silk. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected visit?"
However, instead of accepting Lilith's invitation, Eve's expression remained resolute as she slammed two file reports onto the table with a force that echoed through the hushed ambiance of the restaurant. The words "TOP SECRET, PROVIDENCE EYES ONLY" were emblazoned on the covers in bold, ominous letters.
"Explain yourself." Eve seethed.
Lilith's eyes flickered with intrigue as she glanced at the files before her, her demeanor still rather bored. With a casual grace, she just looked back at her unfortunate younger sister.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lilith continued, her tone smooth as honey yet tinged with a hint of amusement.
"You know what I'm talking about, Lilith." Eve again didn't buy her bullshit. "I wasn't born yesterday..."
"And yet you were born from a rib." Lilith sighed boringly.
Eve's nostrils flared with barely contained frustration, but she refused to be baited by Lilith's mocking retort. She had a duty to uphold, regardless of the Queen of Hell's taunts. Before responding, Eve's eyes caught sight of numerous unnecessary ears eavesdropping on their conversation. Waiters lingering too long, patrons pretending to be engrossed in their meals but clearly listening intently. It was clear that they were not alone in this confrontation.
Eve turned around to address them, her gaze sweeping over the room.
"Attention all patrons!" Eve turned around to address them, her gaze sweeping over the room. "Celestial Elysium is to be closed immediately. The patrons will be compensated by the Eye of Providence for any inconvenience."
There was a moment of stunned silence as Eve's command echoed through the grand hall, but the greeter, recognizing the gravity of her words, quickly sprang into action. With a hurried nod, he began ushering the patrons out of the restaurant, apologizing profusely for the interruption. Lilith watched with thinly veiled amusement as the scene unfolded before her, still very calm. Despite Eve's efforts to maintain control, it was clear that the Queen of Hell was thoroughly enjoying the chaos she had incited.
As the last of the patrons were escorted out and the doors to Celestial Elysium were closed with a resounding thud, Eve turned back to Lilith, her gaze unwavering.
"I know what you have done."
"There are many things I’ve done, Eve." Lilith again sighed, picking up her fork to finish her food. "Just be a good Eden girl and let a Real First Woman eat in peace."
Eve's patience snapped like a taut thread stretched to its limit. Without a word, she lunged forward, seizing Lilith's plate of food, and with a swift motion, hurled it against the nearest wall. The clatter of porcelain echoed through the room as the food splattered across the pristine surface, a stark contrast to the elegance of the surroundings.
"I'm tired of your games, Lilith!" Eve's voice rang out, raw with frustration and anger. "The Eve you knew is long gone. Now you're dealing with an Agent of Providence!"
Lilith's eyes widened in surprise at Eve's sudden outburst, her composure momentarily faltering. For a brief moment, the mask of indifference slipped, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath her cool exterior.
Closing her eyes briefly, Lilith took a deep breath, a soft murmur escaping her lips before she opened her eyes once more, her gaze meeting Eve's with a newfound clarity.
"Fine, Detective Eve." Lilith conceded, her tone devoid of its usual mockery. "Say what you came to say. I'll listen."
Eve fixed Lilith with a steady gaze, her voice firm as she addressed the Queen of Hell. "I know what you did, Lilith. You schemed with Cain to try to kill Aclima during the purge of Pandemonium Capital."
"And what proof do you have of such an accusation, Eve?" Lilith countered, her tone calm and composed.
"Because only I consulted with you regarding the Pandemonium's layout, didn't I?"
"And I was collaborative with you, all according to the deal Adam and I made." Lilith crossed her arms.
Eve's gaze bore into Lilith's, unwavering in its intensity. "It's not just the coincidence of Cain's presence, Lilith. It's the manner in which he acted, for he knew exactly where to strike us."
"You're grasping at straws, Eve," she retorted, her voice laced with defiance. "Cain can do whatever he wants. He acts on his own accord."
Eve's eyes flashed with intensity as she leaned closer to Lilith's face, her voice a hiss of barely contained fury. "Are you scheming to get my children killed, Lilith?"
"Only you would be responsible for Aclima’s, Abel’s, or Adam's death, Detective." Lilith met Eve's gaze with an icy stare, her composure unbroken despite the accusation. A smirk then tugged at the corners of Lilith's lips as she continued. "After all, it's not my fault you used Lucifer to forge a secret alliance to remove Infernal elements that might hurt my precious Charlie. Congratulations on that, by the way."
"Aren't you a smart woman..." Eve hissed a bit, seeing that there is no point in playing that game.
"Try to be. I'm the first woman, after all."
Eve's jaw clenched in frustration at Lilith's mocking words, but she refused to let the Queen of Hell's taunts unsettle her. With a steely resolve, she reached for the file reports, her grip tightening around them as she prepared to leave. Before turning to go, Eve cast one final warning glance at Lilith.
"One of the Exorcists of the Pride Legion was found dead a few hours ago." She stated flatly, her voice tinged with a note of warning. "And If you're involved, it won't bode well for you, Lilith."
"Perhaps you should focus on Adam then, Detective." Lilith's expression remained impassive, but a glint of amusement was in her eyes as she regarded Eve. "After all, he's the one with the bigger chance of dying than your daughter Aclima, now that she is being blamed for everything by Azrael."
"If Adam dies, it's you who will suffer the consequences more, not me. Your deal with him will be officially over, and there won't be any Providence to come to your aid..." Eve warned as her gaze hardened at Lilith before gesturing at the table. "Enjoy your visit in Heaven, Queen of Hell...while you can."
With that, Eve turned on her heel and strode out of Celestial Elysium, leaving Lilith alone. And as the weight of Eve's words settled upon her, Lilith couldn't shake the unsettling feeling...yet Eve's threats didn't work at all. Lilith herself knew enough that Adam wouldn't do anything stupid that would jeopardize the deal...
...
Chapter 21: Episode 3: The Binding Of Charlie
Summary:
"Sometimes...a wrong Demon in a wrong place and at wrong time can make all differences in the Hell..." - Azazel
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Charlie..."
...
" Wake up, my child. .."
Charlie woke up groggily, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in bed. She heard a voice calling her name, but there was no one in sight.
"Umm...Hello, who said that?" Charlie called out as she looked around the unfamiliar room, confusion etched on her face. The walls were stark white, and there were no windows, only a single rusted door that led to a hotel, but it was not the one she knew.
"What is going on?" Charlie whispered to herself, trying to make sense of the situation. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that this was not the reality she knew. She had a sense of déjà vu, like she had been in this situation before. She pinched herself to make sure she was not dreaming, but the pain confirmed that she was indeed awake.
Charlie got out of bed and walked over to the door, reaching for the doorknob. It felt cold and hard, like metal. As she opened the door and left the bedroom, she realized that this was not even the Hazbin Hotel. Instead, she found herself in a long hallway with countless doors, each with "999" room numbers on them. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, and Charlie couldn't see the end of it.
"Vaggie...Husker, Angy. Where are you guys?!" Charlie screamed all around, hoping for a response from her friends. But there was no answer. Panic began to rise in her chest as she realized she didn't even know where she was. Charlie looked at random doors, hoping to find any clues as to her whereabouts or how she had gotten there.
When she opened one of the doors, she found only more questions. Inside, the door revealed not a room, but a scene Charlie couldn't believe she was seeing. She knew that this was not a dream, but it felt like she was living a memory from a past life.
She was looking at a scene from her own childhood, with her mother, Lilith, nursing her as a baby. Lilith was wearing clothes that seemed to be from the Victorian era, something that Alastor mentioned a lot when he was not busy mocking her girlfriend, Vaggie, and baby Charlie was reaching for a bottle of milk.
"...It's me." Charlie whispered, blinking a few times. Charlie felt a wave of emotions wash over her as she watched the scene unfold. Baby Charlie was reaching for a bottle of milk, as if asking or even demanding for the Queen to give it.
"Three bottles already and still going... you're quite stubborn, aren't you, Little Charlotte?" Lilith giggled as she held the bottle just out of reach of baby Charlie, who made cute noises in response.
Charlie felt a longing to be back in that moment, in the safety and comfort of her mother's arms. But as much as she wanted to stay and watch, she knew she had to find out what was going on and where she was. She closed the door and continued down the hallway, determined to find answers. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something sinister behind this strange experience, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Opening another door, she found herself in another memory scene. This time with Uncle Serpent and very young Charlie.
"Okay, kiddo. Now..." Serpent reached out with his tail for the next card with a picture and text on it. The picture that Snake of Eden held is a literal drawn apple with "apple" text on it. "Can you say this, Charlie?"
"Ap-aee."
"No, no. It's A-P-P-L-E. Repeat after me: A."
"A"
"P"
"P"
"L"
"L"
"E"
"E"
"Now say it fully, Charlie."
"Ap...ole?" Charlie stuttered, her young self struggling to pronounce the word.
Serpent chuckled, "That's close enough, kiddo. Good job...and between you and me, I really hate apples anyway...so much trouble they had caused...heh."
Charlie felt a warmth in her heart as she watched her uncle's kind and patient demeanor. She couldn't help but smile as she saw the young version of herself trying to learn new words and playing with her dolls with her uncle's guidance. But as much as she wanted to stay and watch, she knew that she needed to find a way out of this place. She closed the door and continued down the hallway, determined to escape this endless cycle of memories.
As she opened another door, she found herself in yet another memory; this time it was a scene from her past where Uncle Leviathan Von Eldritch himself visited Lucifer's mansion. Both Leviathan and Charlie were in her room, with the King of Envy observing how she played with two dolls called "Razzle and Dazzle". They were still lifeless dolls at the time, something that Charlie didn't mind in the past.
"Look, Uncle Levi! Both Razzle and Dazzle are going to save the princess in the castle!" Young Charlie roleplayed excitedly.
"Why can't the princess save herself, sweetheart?" Leviathan returned with a slight upturn in his voice, but still he watched Charlie's roleplay with genuine delight.
"Because...Princesses always need to be saved..." Charlie replied with a smile.
"Your mother would disagree with that," Leviathan said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Mother would not understand how much trouble the princess is!" Charlie again roleplayed...still too innocent to understand what Leviathan exactly meant by that.
Leviathan smirked at Charlie's comment, "I think your mother would understand more than you think, sweetheart."
Charlie, however, was still absorbed in her roleplay: "Razzle and Dazzle will save the princess, and together they will defeat evil winged Pigeon!" She exclaimed, making the dolls act out the scene.
"Evil winged pigeon?" Leviathan repeated it to himself before realizing who she meant by it. "Spewing your issues to your own daughter, huh, Helel?"
"What's a "Helel," Uncle Leviathan?" Young Charlie asked him as she heard it quite well.
"It's... a long story, my dear." Leviathan waved her off as he watched her with a smile. Weird, but he loved watching her play and seeing her imagination come to life. He knew that she, Sev, and Helsa would all grow up to be strong and independent demons...
But as much as Charlie wanted to stay and watch, relive these memories, she nevertheless closed the door and continued down the hallway.
But this time she noticed that the hallway seemed to be getting darker and colder. The rusted metal of the doors and walls was now slick with a slimy, black substance. The room numbers on the doors were now upside down and backwards, and the feeling of unease in Charlie's stomach grew stronger.
Finally, she would notice an ornate door with the number "666" on it. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what she would find on the other side. But her determination to find answers won out, and she pushed the door open.
There was nothing...
Inside, she found a room that was even more unsettling than the hallway. Nothing was inside of that room...just endless void in...and yet
There was someone else...
It was a woman demon, wearing a large, black, brimmed fedora with a white band and a checkered underside, with a red, open trench coat and an undershirt that also sports a checkered design.
"Umm...hello?!" Charlie called out, hoping that she knew what is going on.
No response...
Charlie stepped inside, but as soon as she landed her feet inside the void room, the door behind her shut closed, disappearing into thin air. Charlie's heart raced as she was startled...something felt that this figure was the source of the voice that had woken her up.
Swallowing, Charlie would come closer to that woman. She stepped forward, her voice shaking as she spoke.
"Who are you, miss?"
That woman smirked at that before she would finally reveal herself, turning around to face the Princess of Hell in full glory. Charlie slightly opened her mouth and froze in surprise and confusion.
That woman is a demon-like "thing" with pale white skin and black hair with red ends. Her hair moves on its own accord, as if it were made of flames. Her eyes have bright red sclerae and white irises, and appears to wear burgundy eyeshadow. She has black, pulsating veins in her neck with a red glow going throughout them, which, along with her arms, appear to be shackled and enchained.
"R-Roo?" Charlie again stuttered in her wording.
"Hello again, mate. Long time no see, eh?" The woman said, her voice low and menacing, her Australian accent adding a hint of roughness to her words.
"What are you doing here, Roo?" Charlie asked, her voice filled with distrust at that "Sinner". Charlie didn't forget the time when Roo caused so much trouble for Hazbin Hotel...
Roo's smile only grew wider before looking up. "Look at her...quite a charming one, isn't she?"
"As the day she was born, Root of Evil."
"Who said that?" Charlie immediately turned around, searching for the source of the voice. But much to her surprise, there was no one there. Only the empty void that stretched out in all directions. The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, sending shivers down her spine. She couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched.
"Alastor, stop this nonsense already." Charlie called out, hoping that it was him out of all demons causing this mischievous act of his...otherwise, if it wasn't him...it was very concerning...
"Alastor LeBlanc?"The Voice sounded amused. "My Dear..."
*Boot stomp*
"Alastor LeBlanc is just a powerful demon..."
*Boot stomp*
"A lost soul..."
*Boot stomp*
"And a product of his time..."
*Boot stomp*
And finally, as Charlie looked at Roo...someone else appeared behind her.
"There are far greater things than you should worry about, my dear child..." The voice ended, leaving the infinite void to join in their little reunion...
Charlie's heart raced as she realized that the mysterious stranger whose voice had been haunting her was now standing right in front of her. The stranger's appearance was striking, dressed in a tie-suit with a red upside-down cross on it and an unbuttoned gothic-style black waistcoat with a black vest and red undershirt. The Sigil of Baphomet symbol was affixed to the lapels of his suit, and his black pants were held up by a belt with the words "As above, so below" engraved on the buckle.
"You have walked the long road since that fateful day..." The stranger continued as he approached Charlie. "The right woman in the wrong place can make all the difference in Hell. All the effort would have gone to waste until...well, let's just say your hour has come again."
The stranger then touched Charlie's chin, bringing her face closer to his. "So, wake up, Ms. Morningstar."
"Wake up..."
"And embrace your accession ..."
Charlie's eyes snapped open as she sat up in bed, clutching her chest as she gasped for air very quietly. She looked around her room, noticing that she was in her room...with Vaggie sleeping peacefully, but still her hand was near the Exorcist's spear just in case. Razzle was also here...which Charlie finally sighed in relief.
"It was just a nightmare," she whispered to herself, taking a final gasp of breath to calm down. Charlie's gaze drifted over to her legs, where Razzle curled up to her, snoring softly. And then at Vaggie, who still has the messy hair after that whole debacle with Alastor...again.
Charlie smiled at the sight of them, grateful for their presence in her life...they always seemed to be here when she needed them most. But trying to not wake them up, the Princess of Hell gently moved her legs away before she slowly got up from the bed.
She went to their bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to try fully wake up and shake off the stress. She would turn off the sink before Charlie looked at herself in the mirror.
Charlie is a tall, slender hellborn demon, standing at around 6 feet tall or over. She has long, blonde hair, with lighter blonde and pink highlights, which is tied into a twice-banded low ponytail. Her blonde bangs flip to her left with a curl. Her lips are black, and she has rosy red cheeks. Her pupils are red, her sclera is light yellow, and she has thick black eyelashes, both top and bottom.
Despite her striking appearance, these years have not been kind to her...taking note of the dark circles under her eyes and the slight paleness of her skin. She took a deep breath, realizing how much she is different from when she came for that 666 news segment...seems like it was just yesterday for her...
*Concerned Noise*
Charlie looked back to see that Razzle was there, woken up already and showing his concerned face to Charlie...
"It's alright, Razzle...just silly bad dreams. But since you woke up for me, here is a little treat for you!" Charlie assured him with a bright smile before summoning a doughnut. Razzle immediately shifted into an eager and expressive mood, huffing for Charlie to toss it.
"Up, up, Razzle! Get!" Charlie warned before tossing the doughnut up. Razzle jumped up and managed to catch the doughnut in the air with ease, devouring the doughnut in seconds...someone has a good appetite.
"Good, boy!" Charlie chuckled at the eagerness, still quiet enough to not wake Vaggie up. She would pat his head before she would leave the bathroom, with Razzle following her like a pet to its owner...not that Charlie really demands it in the first place.
Charlie would gently leave the room and go onto the balcony. She sniffed the air and made a sigh of relief, enjoying the little atmosphere of the morning. She opted to lean against the rail to enjoy it for a while...
"Good morning, Pentagram City...."
"You never change..."
✝Magne Inferno⛧: Episode 3
September 21, 2025, AD (102 Days Before The Next Purge), 6:01 AM.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City/The Hazbin Hotel (Happy Hotel)
As the sun rose over the Hazbin Hotel, the infernal red of Hell's skies gave way to a new day. The morning was average and quiet, with little activity to be seen. Charlie presumed her friends in the hotel were still asleep. Only sounds to be heard were the gentle rustling of the leaves on the trees at the Hotel's courtyard and the distant chirping of Infernal birds.
Charlie knew that this peaceful morning wouldn't last long, as the typical chaos of Pentagram City would soon begin. The sound of gunshots could be heard every minute, swears and screams filling the air, and even the occasional explosion if Cherri was feeling particularly mischievous for today.
Nothing changed...
Despite 5 years since Charlie announced her opening of the Hap- Hazbin Hotel, Pentagram City didn't change at all. Most of the Sinners still resent Charlie, or they don't take it seriously for Charlie's goals...but on the plus side, at this point the insults were gone and replaced with just typical dismissal and an apathetic tone... a good change of pace considering that she used to have a lot of emails with death threats and whatnot in the early days...
And then her Dad's Overlords were involved...starting with the Radio Demon himself...and of course the Vees, who had a lot of "Issues" with the Hotel. Charlie always presumed it's because of Alastor's schemes and his constant rivalry with Vox...and yet it feels like it's becoming more and more directed at HER instead...and still she isn't sure why her dad doesn't do anything about it...
...
"Mom..." Charlie whispered to no one, only now realizing...
She hadn't heard from her in a long time. She did call and left more messages than she could in their Sinstagram accounts. She somehow knew her mom listened to her voicemails and read her messages. But mom is... well, Mom is mom. Normally, Charlie should have felt anger and resentment that her mom seemed to just disappear from Hell without so much as a word. Instead, she felt only understanding...she might be just that busy.
And the rest of Inferno had...very interesting reactions to Charlie's Hotel. Some of Charlie's uncles didn't say a single word about that, like Mammon and Asmodeus. Leviathan sent her a letter, commending her for doing her own thing and not following her father blindly. Aunt Beelzebub refused to talk with her, and Uncle Satan...well...he is busy......really- REALLY BUSY these days.
But still, despite all of the negativity over the past 5 years. Charlie can smile brightly, knowing there have been progress...oh, boy...where to begin?
In the beginning, the Happy Hotel started with just her and Vaggie. Angel Dust joined later, followed up with Alastor and him introducing the staff for the Hotel, Niffty and Husk. But it didn't stop here... not by mile!
Mimzy
Baxter
Crymini
They all came here!
And with financial banking by both Overlord Rosie of Cannibal Colony and Mimzy's, as personal "thanks," they managed to keep the Hazbin Hotel out of financial bankruptcy and even improved it in some aspects. Plus, being Princess allows Charlie's own property to be "tax-free" and away from Greed's taxing policies...and last but not least
Heaven
Even from the start, Charlie knew she would have to make contact with the mysterious Afterlife above in Hell's clouds. As the Hazbin Hotel operated, Charlie wondered if the upper afterlife even knew about the hotel. She did at least beg Adam of the Exorcists to at least mention her Hotel to Heaven's upper management...and look how that turned out for her: a Battle at the Hotel.
Of course Charlie expected nothing to come of it after the battle, and she felt for a while as months passed before the news finally reached Heaven's ears...well...let's just say that there have been discussions in Heaven's spheres, as Emily vaguely explained...and that's enough for Charlie to know there is a glimpse of hope already...she never asked for more.
Overall, Charlie can say that her idea came to fruition. It's been a hard and long road for the Hazbin Hotel...but as long as Charlie remains stoic and has the backing of her dearest friends, she will manage...a day, a year, a millennium—it matters not!
...
And yet
There is always a feeling...
That the Hazbin Hotel Will Not Be Enough...
...
...
"Nightmares again, hon?"
Charlie turned around to see that Vaggie had awakened and was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and still wearing her nightgown.
"Hey, sweetie. Come join me. The view is great." Charlie expressed while inviting Vaggie over.
"I already have a great view, sweetheart." Vaggie mischievously hinted.
"With me blocking the view of the sun?" Charlie chuckled, completely unaware of what Vaggie meant by "great view."
Vaggie rolled her eyes playfully, uncrossing her arms and making her way over to Charlie. Razzle followed close behind, still staring at her master.
"I meant - " Vaggie began, only to stop after realizing it would be "Angel Dust" -level joke, so she just dropped it. "Eh, nevermind...but thank you for inviting me, mi amore."
Charlie smiled as Vaggie walked over and sat on the railing beside Charlie, both of them facing the sun rising over the horizon. They both felt the warmth of the sun on her face and the cool breeze, creating a comfortable balance.
The Princess of Hell closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the stress from her nightmare slowly dissipate. She opened her eyes and looked over at Vaggie, who was also enjoying the view. Razzle was now sitting at their feet, looking up at them with a content expression. They sat in silence for a few minutes as the sun fully made its debut in Hell's sky. Finally, Vaggie broke the silence.
"How are you, Charlie?"
Charlie's smile somewhat dropped, but she managed to keep it alive. She had learned a lot from Alastor.
"Same nightmares, Vags... non-stop," Charlie replied.
"Roo?" Vaggie asked, just to be sure if it keeps repeating.
"Yeah...Roo again." Charlie shook her head slowly in agreement. Even she finds it too much of a coincidence.
"Think she is the one who keeps making these nightmares?" Vaggie continued.
"I-I... don't know." Charlie tensed slightly at that. "You saw her yourself, Vaggie. The way she spoke, talked, and behaved. Even Alastor is no stranger to creepiness to me...but it feels like...Roo is not even a Sinner."
Vaggie gave a nod, understanding her girlfriend's concerns. Though she wasn't sure if it was really nightmares because of stress or because of Roo's shenanigans.
"I can't exactly say what it might be...but if you ever need help...just ask. You know you have my back anytime, hon." Vaggie comforted, getting on her feet and coming closer to lay her hand on Charlie's shoulder.
Charlie let out a sigh, feeling a sense of comfort from Vaggie's words and touch. The Salvadorian Moth smiled in return, while Charlie made a full turn to her girlfriend. Vaggie didn't even need to make a promise, as Charlie always knows her girlfriend has her back.
They stared at each other until neither of them could wait any longer. Vaggie opted to go first, bringing her lips closer to Charlie's...
" HOLY FISHPASTE, NIFFTY!!! NEEEIN!!! "
*Kaboom*
The sudden explosion of the "Ship" segment of the Hotel caught everyone off guard, sending debris flying in every direction. Vaggie was almost knocked off her feet if it weren't for Charlie's quick reflexes to hold her steady.
"¡¿Qué carajo?!" Vaggie exclaimed, looking down to see what’s going on...only to growl in as she already knew the one responsible for this mess. "¡Tú y tus experimentos, científico!"
Vaggie, without wasting time, ran towards their bedroom exit with Hell's fury on her face. Charlie snapped her fingers, changing her nightgown into her typical Hotel manager’s uniform. Although Charlie knew Vaggie could easily take care of stuff like this, she still followed her girlfriend towards the disaster on the first floor...just as a precaution.
Vaggie didn't bother with manners as she kicked the door open, storming inside with her spear ready. This room is a "Ship" room, converted into a full-set laboratory, with a large portrait of the anglerfish himself and a blue fireplace...And a very huge wrecked hole in the wall due to the explosion...
...
And of course...it's these two who are causing trouble again.
The resident of this "Ship" room is an anglerfish sinner who has grey skin with a blue-grey tone. He has a notably short stature, being the second smallest member of the hotel crew after Niffty. He has two fins on the side of his head, which resemble ears, and has three cyan-colored, bioluminescent freckles dotted on his "hair" and on both of his cheeks, underneath his eyes. He has styled, short, and swept- back "hair", which are actually royal blue scales with blue-grey streaks. He has sharp, cyan-colored teeth, and his mouth curls at the sides whenever he grins. He has cyan sclera with coral pink irises, and his eyelids are a dark royal blue.
And the other is Niffty...she is Niffty...that's enough said about her...
The Fish Scientist coughed from the dust particles while Niffty sat on the floor in a trance-like state, looking at the scientist in awe while being completely covered in ashes.
"What did we tell you about conducting experiments in our hotel, Baxter?!" Vaggie exclaimed. Charlie, meanwhile, came over to check on Niffty, wiping the dust away from the cyclops demon.
"And I did!" Baxter raised his finger, but a sudden short circuit in the nearest supercomputer made him yelp before calming down. "No hotel can stop ze progress of science, Ms. Vagaza! It's perfectly natural and necessary in order to improve ze hotel, as I promised!"
"Then explain why this is the second time this month you're causing explosions!" Vaggie wasn't buying his excuses. Charlie, behind, wiped Niffty off. Although as soon as the Princess was done, Niffty got up and runs away in the blink of eye...Niffty still Hasn't changed to this day.
"Zat zing keeps infiltrating my laboratory and pushing buttons...like zis one!" Baxter was about to push a button on some random machinery to prove his point, only to be stopped by Vaggie, who grabbed his arm and lifted him up so that he and she could have "equal and understandable" talk.
"You don't need to push a button to prove your point, Doctor!"
"...Ahh, yes! You're right...good scientific observation, ma'am!" Baxter complimented her...while nervously swallowing in fear from Vaggie's threatening molecules.
...
"Oooh, what does this button do!?"
Charlie instantly turned her voice to see that Niffty had sneaked her way from Vaggie and Baxter's vision, her tiny fingers ready to press the button.
"Niffty, no!" Charlie warned...but it was a little too late.
*Boop*
Charlie swiftly used her spell for quick teleportation to escape the explosion with her friends, grabbing them in her teleportation warps. However, as before, Niffty pushed another button, causing another massive explosion, sending debris from the ship flying in every direction. Charlie teleported herself and all of them just in front of the door to Baxter's room;, somehow the door had survived the two explosions.
Baxter blinked a few times, finding himself to be "alive".
"V-v- vha-I'm alive!?", Baxter exclaimed in shock and disbelief that he had survived the two explosions. "Yes, Science can't stop me-vait vhat?" And now Baxter found himself in Niffty's arms, who was smiling brightly at the fish scientist.
"I don't quite know how to tell you this, but... You have a face only a post-mortem, scavenging organism would love, Ms. Niffty," Baxter said.
"Uh-huh..." Niffty continued to stare at Baxter wistfully.
"You are profoundly irritating, and I wish you would kindly FUCK OFF and leave mein alone!"
"Uh-huh...mmm..." Niffty again continued to stare at him.
"Just...put mir down, already!" Baxter hissed at her.
"Okay!" Niffty dropped him, making Baxter hurt his spine in the process.
"Oh, my zoracic vertebrae! Ow-ow-ow- waaaaaaa! " Baxter screamed in pain.
"Stop being a child, you wimp!" Vaggie complained, having had enough of this. Even more ironic in an ironic twist of irony, even the Spider Demon, Angel Dust himself, had had enough of this as he made his presence known, arriving from one of the corners of the hotel.
"Will ya shut up your a-holes for once this mawhnin'?!" Angel complained, taking a sip of his morning coffee before continuing his complaints. "First, your explosions suck my cock! Second, at least have the decency to do it while I'm wawhkin', yuh fishy boy! Okay?"
"SOOOOORRY!" Baxter apologized, still making grunts of pain.
Angel Dust took another sip of coffee, smacking his lips and sighing in relief from the sensation. He made an awkward 1-minute stare at Baxter before breaking it.
"But seriously, what's wit' our doc ovuh here, did he just orgasmed fawh de first time in his virgin life, or what?"
"I didn't experience any rhythmic, involuntary muscular contractions in the pelvic region, Mr. Angello!" Baxter, as per usual, smarted his way even in inappropriate moments.
"Baxter's failed experiments, Angie...nothing unusual." Charlie explained before glancing down at Baxter. "So, what were you experimenting with before, Baxter?"
"I-I-I-I'm glad you asked!" Baxter immediately stood up on his feet on the fly, as if he wasn't screaming in pain earlier. Angel Dust shrugged behind them before leaving them...also flipping them off because why not. "You will be amazed how much I can discover with SCIENCE... but first I need my room to be cleaned!"
Charlie looked at Vaggie for the opinion. Her girlfriend, though, shrugged, as it's up to Charlie to decide in the first place.
"Niffty, be a good girl and clean it, okay?" Charlie kindly asked.
"Okie-Dookie!" Niffty clarified happily as she, in a lightning strike, ran into Baxter's room. It literally took her 10 seconds to clean the entire room before she appeared once more in Charlie's and Vaggie's presence. "Aaaand DONE!"
"Thank you...you, ah...can do your thing now." Charlie gave her a nod of thanks.
"Okay!” Niffty beamed, shooting out with a feather duster in hand and running like hell in a lightning strike with her cleaning chores.
"Finally!" Baxter excitedly rubbed his hands, eager to show his achievements that even Albert Einstein would drop a tear. "Follow me, ladies!"
Vaggie grumbled to herself as she reluctantly followed Baxter and Charlie back into the Mad-Professor's room. True to Niffty's word, the room was cleaned entirely of the earlier resonant cascades, minus the hole...but that's Baxter problem now.
"Now hold on to your molecules as you're about to witness the best achievements I could ever come up. Let mein present you-zis!"
Baxter removed a blanket and presented his finest creation to the owner and manager of the Hotel.
...
"Okay...what is that, exactly?" Vaggie asked, crossing her arms. Baxter's creation was some kind of high-end, techy cannon machine.
"Why, it's a Gauss Cannon, miss Vagaza!" Baxter announced proudly.
"And why does our hotel need a Gauss Cannon in the first place?!" Vaggie exclaimed.
"Well...I-I...um..." Baxter stammered nervously, "Let me show you what it's capable of!"
Baxter quickly walked over to flip some switches and eagerly waited for the cannon to do its thing. At the tip of the cannon's barrel, a red ball of light began to form.
"YES, WUNDERBAR! I'M A GENIUS!" Baxter laughed in delight.
"Is it working, professor?" Charlie asked, still unsure if that red ball was intentional or not.
"OF COURSE IT VORKS, GIRL!!!" Baxter grumbled, before looking at the panel of energy level, noticing it doesn't work. "Erm...is it, zough?" First solution that came to his mind was to kick the panel, and it helped the energy panel to show the power level properly.
"YES, IT'S VORKING! BEHOLD MY MASTEPIECE!"
The Mad Professor laughed in delight as he rushed to the control panel. Baxter slammed his fist against the final red button. The tip of the Gauss Cannon powered up before it sent a super red ball of energy into the Hell skies and disappeared into the atmosphere.
"SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?!" Baxter cheered with excitement and jumped before he rushed to turn off the switch.
Both Vaggie and Charlie were silent for a moment as they glanced at each other. But Vaggie would speak first, noticing a huge missing detail in Baxter's invention.
"I'm not an expert on lasers, Doctor. But correct me if I'm wrong, lasers are affected by gravity, right?"
"Well...yeah," Baxter wasn't sure what Vaggie's point was.
"Then where should it land eventually?"
Baxter blinked a few times before bringing his finger to his chin, performing a mathematical calculation in his mind...and it hit him...
"Oh, Scheiße..."
Hell/Envy Ring/Amidst of The Ocean
On the Envy Ring, Cal Von Dagon, the Grand Admiral of the Serene Admiralty of Envy, was engaged in a tense conversation with the Captain of the Ars Goetian Merchant Ship. Both ships had their cannons trained on one another.
"I won't repeat myself again, Goetian parasite. Pay your escort tax or face Leviathan's wrath!" Cal boomed over the loudspeaker.
"Go to Void, Eldritch horror! The Dark Lord is on Ars Goetian's side today!" Retorted the Captain of the Ars Goetian merchant ship.
"No, he is on Envy's side today!" Cal shot back.
"You're wrong, he is on our side!" The Captain countered.
"Well he-he-he...He-he will destroy your ship, you false god-worshipping scum. Mark my words!"
"Oh, yeah?! On what basis you-"
But much to everyone's surprise, a strange, thin, red object of light suddenly appeared out of nowhere from the skies and collided with the Ars Goetian ship, causing it to explode in a fiery blast.
"Unholy shit!" Cal was shocked and couldn't believe what he was seeing. He looked at the sky and the Goetian sinking ship back and forth before he finally understood the message. He would kiss his Baphomet's Sigil Necklace for the Devil's blessing. "Blessed Anti-Christ and Dark Lord in Ninth Ring...this is a sign from the Dark God himself! THANK YOU, MY DARK LORD!"
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City/The Hazbin Hotel (Happy Hotel)
Back at Pride Ring, Baxter still tapped his finger against his silky chin before shrugging it off. "Ah, I'm sure it will land on some uncivilized chunk of land in Hell..."
Both Charlie and Vaggie still stared at Baxter in silence, with the Moth demon completely furious that their tenant was turning the hotel into some kind of military-industrial complex wannabe.
"Charlie..." Vaggie began, slowly turning her glance towards Charlie. "Go and have breakfast in the meantime. I need to talk with our 'delightful' professor over here..."
"Okay..." Charlie nodded, though she leaned closer and whispered, "Please, don't kill him."
Vaggie smirked with slight amusement; obviously Charlie was joking.
"Come on. Who do you take me for, hon?" Vaggie whispered, making a little finger wave to shoo Charlie away in a playful manner. Charlie only smiled at that before silently departing their presence. As she walked away, Vaggie turned her attention back to Baxter. Her expression had turned serious, and she approached him with a sense of determination.
"Baxter," she said firmly. "Let me remind you about the deal you and Charlie made about your unfortunate time in Envy Ring..."
Charlie would come to the Hazbin Hotel's bar. To this day, Charlie really wants to create a "restaurant" section for the Hotel, but they still have no budget for that. Maybe one day, but as for now, the Bar is the only sole "food entertainment" here in the Hotel.
Angel Dust was also here, sitting on the stool while smoking the cigarette...and obviously pestering Husk to this day. Crymini, too, was here, sitting on the stool while listening to music coming from an MP3 CD player on her hip.
"Come on, Husky. Just a smooch..."
"No..." Husk as always in his typical manner.
"Pretty pleaase?" Angel flapped his eyebrows flatteringly, making the cute face.
"...No."
"You mista are a tough nut to crack...but there’s nothin' that Angie Dusty can't handle."
"Bet 100 souls you would not handle 16 inches of cock shovin' up yer ass..." Husk again mocked him.
Angel Dust smirked at that. "That's nothin', Husker! Once I ate a giant, fat cock right outta a fella’s closet. I ate it all, papí."
"Bullshit..." Husk growled slightly, not believing Dust's lies. Angel again grinned that would make Asmodeus blush before he reached with upper right hand to his fluffy chest and pull out a...photo.
"See for yaself..." He showed it to Cat Demon.
Husk still didn't moved but switched his eyes at the photo. A single eyebrow with the sigh was the final nail in the coffin.
"Hope you choke on it, fucker." Husk reached for his money from his pocket and slammed it on the bar counter.
"Thank ya for yar patronage, Whiskers." Angel grabbed the money and put it back into his fluffy chest...how Angel exactly stores all that crap in his fluffy chest lump is a mystery that even God or Devil can't understand...
"Morning, Husk. Hey again, Angie." Charlie would finally come to them, grabbing the nearest free stool to join the group.
"What's up, toots? How did it went down with our Good Doctor? Little Miss Hot Temper doin' her thing again, huh?"
"Angie..." Charlie slightly protested, but didn't show any resentment...just a tone of concern that Angel still distrusts Vaggie.
"What?! I am always honest, Cha-cha. Maybe not always nice... but I'm always honest...Husky, back me up, will ya?"
"No..." Husk mumbled, busy taking a shot of vodka in the spare time.
"You’re an insufferable little cat, Husk. But I love you so much." Angel gave an air smooch at the end.
"Fuck off..." Husk again sighed, before glancing at Charlie. "The usual, kiddo?"
"Yeah...thanks, Husk."
Husk hummed in response as he knelt behind the bar, searching for ingredients. "So what did Pointdexter invent again that caused another explosion this month?"
"A "Gauss Cannon" as he calls it." Charlie shrugged at that.
"Sound nice...can it destroy New-York by chance?" Angel Dust questioned with a smirk.
"And why you want New-York to be destroyed?" Husk questioned him, taking the two apples before dropping them into the milkshake machine.
"Because New-York fuckin' sucks, Husker...quite literally."
"So does Vegas, but you don't hear me bitch about it." Husk scowled back, turning off the machine and pouring the juice into a medium-sized glass.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Angel Dust sarcastically chuckled at that. "I forgot you swore an oath to Uncle Sam to defend the good old U.S of A."
"Says the one who dodged the conscription call after Pearl Harbor..." Husk gave a menacing glance at Angel as he handed the apple juice to Charlie. Clearly the Spider's remark caused some offense for Cat Demon.
"Yeah right..." Angel Dust waved him off. "World's quarrels and politics are of no interest to me. Fuck them all, as Cherri says..."
"Shitheads like you would have made the Nazis win the war." Husk grumbled quietly. He again took some offense at that.
"Pff, who cared back then?"
"I did, you fuck..." Husk this time, showed a clear indication of anger in his voice, despite it still remaining emotionless.
Angel Dust remained silent and froze a bit, staring at the Husk. But, ultimately, he would take another puff of cigar before deciding to drop the conversation anyway. "Didn't mean to bust your nuts, Husker."
Husk still remained silent; he did shift his glance at Angel's cigar for a second and back at the Porn-Star.
"No smoking in the bar, Legs."
"Oh, for fu-" Angel Dust was about to swear, only to look at Charlie, realizing she was still here. "This is malarky! Since when is smoking in the bar forbidden?!"
"Since Vaggie hung the sign last week, dumbfuck..." Husk was obvious before pointing his finger at the sign.
No Smoking!
Including you, Angel!
"Ah, Crap...." Angel Dust complained. it never ends with that fucking Salvadorian Chihuahua. But regardless, he would just drop the cigar on the carpet and smash it, much to Husk's and Charlie's objection. "Oh, Well. I'm going to work anyway, so no loss here. Bella Ciao, Toots. Don't cause any hot orgies while I'm absent...I will be missing out."
Angel Dust would leave, kiss his hand, and wave at Husk in a flirty motion. The Cat Demon's return was a scowl of annoyance and a grumble.
"Kick your balls on your way, spiderfuck." Husk mumbled, reaching down for another vodka bottle. But as soon as he laid the bottle on the bar table, Crymini tried to snatch the bottle but Husk gripped it strongly enough. "Ain't you a little young to be drinking, sweetheart?"
"You're not my dad." Crymini hissed back, taking no shit at Grandpa Cat.
"Your dad musta been one piece of work for you to end up like this."
"He taught me how to make a Molotov cocktail when I was six. So fuck off and let me drink my sorrow, grandps."
"No, you can scram 'cuz I ain't servin' ya. Don'tcha need to help Baxter or at least be useful or some shit?
"No, I'm too tired for his bullshit."
"By playing that heavy metal garbage all night?" Husk didn't buy her bullshit. "Just go away from my bar, young lady."
Crymini growled like a Dog at Husk, but the Cat Demon only narrowed his eyes back at the Young Punk Girl. If she can play this game of "Cat and Dogs", Husk definitely can play it too.
"Husk, come on..." Charlie intervened, kindly asking Husk to not be too bitter about it. Husk's eyes glanced at Charlie before back at Crymini...taking a sigh.
"Fine, you can have this." The Cat Demon then reached under the table again and revealed a little flask with an American US star from the 1940s. "Drink responsibly, or some shit."
Crymini took the flask and stared incredulously at it for a minute before laughing softly. "Thanks, old man."
"I trust you won't tell the owner of the Hotel about Staff handing flasks to their tenants?" Husk made a little snarl in Charlie's direction, who playfully shrugged in response. Who knows what the "owner" will think of it.
"How about you give me ten more of these, and it's a deal?" Crymini, too, played along, now even grinning at Husk.
" *Tsk* ... you little greedy shit. Scram off." Husk shooed her away. Ironically, even his lips quivered, combating him nearly slipping into a smile.
"Will do, Grandps." Crymini laughed that off before eagerly leaving the place to taste the alcohol in her room. But Husk would then look at Charlie with anger, still not appreciating that last magic trick.
"What the fuck, princess?"
"Husk, look at her...a depressed little girl. Let her have fun."
"Say that to your future kid and watch how it will go downhill for you." Husk grumbled, making a sigh before continuing. "A little discipline is what she needs, princess. Otherwise, she will be a fucking syndrome of "Daddy or Mommy issues" for the rest of her existence in this fucking Hell...not that I care in the first place."
"Mommy issues, huh?" Charlie gave an emotionless, empty chuckle at that.
"Yeah...Mommy issues." Husk repeated before reminding him of one thing that Alastor demanded. He would then come to one of the cupboards and grab the dish. "And speakin' of "mommy issues", Radio fuck himself left you some small dish of Jambalaya for breakfast."
Husk laid the dish and fork for Charlie, before shrugging with dismissal, going back to watch the "deathball" match between Gluttony and Lust Ring teams on his small tv...that he hid from Alastor's eyes.
"I..." Charlie awkwardly started, understanding that he doesn't do it out of his own wish. "Husk, I understand that you must listen to Alastor's commands, but you don't really have to do it. If Alastor bullies you, just say it to me, and I will try to straight him out...I think"
"Speak for yourself, kid." Husk mumbled, still busy observing the match game. "He casually threatens me on a regular basis."
"Husk..." Charlie frowned sympathetically.
"I don't need pity from you. My fault for my own bad luck cards in the tables." He grimaced at her. "Besides, you and Vaggie at least make Alastor more bearable. Before I met you, months and months would go by where I don't feel even the slightest bit terrorized by that creepy son of a bitch..."
"You sure you don't need my help?" Charlie cooed.
"I don't tell you how to run this charity orphanage, or whatever the fuck this place is, so don't tell me how I should handle my debts to the Radio fucker."
"Well...okay. Thanks for the Jambalaya regardless, Husk...really."
"I guess..." Husk slowly shrugged, making a grumpy, noncommittal grumble as he stared back at the TV broadcast.
Charlie in the meantime, summoned her laptop to check her emails and laid it on the table while she ate the plate of jambalaya. While Vaggie is dealing with Baxter, the Princess can at least have some free time to check her email inbox. Most of the new messages are either spam, scam messages and non-sensical notifications from various social-media...until she found an important message.
"Sev?" Charlie whispered, she clicks the message to check it fully.
"Sup, C."
"If you're not busy doing your things, please send a message of condolences to Octavia. Apparently our Uncle Bael Goetia...as he is fully dead."
"I'm not sure how your dad deals with that stuff but mines sent condolences rather than wasting our time going for the funeral ceremony. Remember that one funeral we both went? It sucked ass!!! So my word of advice: do the same and just send a message. "
"Oh, and speaking off. Before Bael died, Octavia also experienced a great fallout with Stella's assassination attempt on Stolas. The Ars Goetian Diet already revealed that they will persecute them both quite harshly for the impropriate behavior. I mean shit really, C. Considering it's Ars Goetia we talking about. It must have been something serious."
"So please, Charlie. Write a nice little message to her, at least. We heirs must stick to each other as your Dad says."
Your Seviathan
Charlie released a heavy sigh after reading the entire message. It seemed like everyone had left her.
Husk scowled harshly at him as he saw this. With a huff, he flung the rag he'd been cleaning his countertop with while he watched the match. Husk opened his mouth, only for his scowl to drop when he noticed Charlie's dreadful face.
"Need another drink?" Husk went indirectly.
Charlie looked at her empty cup, then back at Husk, realizing she had already finished her drink. "Yeah, more apple juice, if that's okay, Husk."
Husk just grabbed her cup and went to the sink without saying a word. As much as cats hate the water, Husk handles it pretty well...even though there is sincere displeasure for him right now. While he is washing it, he would then ask next.
"So, what's eating at you?"
"Eating me? What do you mean?" Charlie raised a brow.
"Don't bullshit me." Husk rolled his eyes, wiping the cup with a dried rag before he went to get some apples. "I've known your sorry butt for five years. When you're not smiling, something must have happened to you."
Charlie sighed...guess she can tell the whole story.
"Do you have any siblings or cousins, Husk?"
"A few..." Husk shrugged, using the milkshaker to prepare the juice in the meantime. "One was in the White Army; he got shot by the Bolsheviks in Russia. Others are American-born, typical country folk who settled in Reno while I was in Vegas." Husk poured the juice and brought it to Charlie. He then snorted and leaned on the bar to confront her. "Why the fuck does it matter to you?"
Charlie took a sip of the juice, wetting her lips before speaking.
"It 's just that I have many cousins and Uncle and Aunts, Husk. Some of the people I had a very healthy relationship with... but since I opened this place with Vaggie, I've lost all contact with them. Mom doesn't help too..."
"Family sucks, huh?" Husk mumbled, neutral in his tone. He also reached under the counter for a bottle, flicked the cap off, and took a swig.
"I guess I just don't understand my mom anymore." Charlie paused before uttering another emotionless chuckle, realizing how little she understood even sinners. "And you know what's funny, Husk? When I started with the hotel, I was 100% convinced that my people would cheer and join it in flocks...and yet all of them ridiculed, insulted, and cursed me. Do you know how painful it is to see my people get slaughtered year after year? And somehow, despite a century of death and suffering, I'm the only demon in the nobility who bothers to help them!"
Husk, although he chugged the bottle as Charlie ranted, still listened to her. At the end of her rant, he stopped chugging and laid the bottle on the table, staring silently at Charlie.
"And your point is?"
Charlie shrugged slightly once more. "I guess what I mean is that when I look at Alastor, the Vees, and Sinners, I think of myself and how they can be so cruel and...evil."
Husk hummed to that, turning his gaze at the floor. But a minute later, he would turn his eyes back at her.
"People are complicated, kiddo." Husk slowly began as Charlie looked back at him. "Radio Fucker may be evil, but even he has a weird sense of justice he applies to his victims. The Vees only care about power. As for the rest, I saw a lot of opinions and beliefs that I despised during my lifetime. And yet most of the evil in this world is done by people with good intentions...that benefited a few or even one person. Everyone wants to rule the world in the end...one way or another."
"Then what can I do about it?" Charlie sincerely asked.
"You want my advice? I ain't that kinda bartender." Husk grumbled.
"I know, Husk. But you say this stuff, and it makes me think there's no hope... that the hotel will be a waste of time in the end."
"If my years of experience have taught me anything, it's always bet on black, never eat the buffet lobster, and the house always wins in Vegas." Husk sighed to himself before once more looking directly at Charlie's eyes. "I don't really get what the fuck you're trying to do with this place or why the hell you'd want to do it, but these are your own cards, kid... So, if anyone can win, it's probably you...but you must have the best cards for that gamble game to win."
"You really mean this?" Charlie perked up and smiled at him, but Husk quickly changed back to his "traditional" self.
"Don't give me that look, kid. This doesn't mean I like you... Just don't want you cryin' all over my bar."
"But you still managed to lift me up, Husk...I can't thank you enough."
"I ain't good at that shit," Husk repeated, taking the empty plate of jambalaya from Charlie's hands. "But it looks like it was worth a shot."
Husk once more went to clean off Charlie's dish. in the meantime, Razzle would arrive and sit down near where Charlie sat on the stool.
"..." Razzle remained silent...as he always is.
"Thanks for letting me know, Razzle." Charlie nodded with the smile to her toy.
"Wait..." Husk interrupted. "But that dragon thing didn't say a word to you."
"Razzle just said that Vaggie is outside, waiting for me, Husk." Charlie corrected him kindly.
"D-did you even understand him?" Husk blinked a few times, processing what he just heard.
"Of course, why wouldn't I be, silly?" Charlie chuckled kindly, unsummoning her laptop and getting up from the bar stool.
"Shit, if you say so..." Husk mumbled, taking a swig from his bottle. "Well...you do...what he told you to do, I guess."
"That will I do. See you around, Husk." Charlie waved him goodbye before leaving Husk's bar. The cat Demon only stared at her as she left with Razzle before grumbling at himself.
"De fuck is wrong with you, kid...?" Husk mumbled, taking another swig from his bottle. "I need a fucking drink."
In the main entrance of Hazbin Hotel, Vaggie sat on the picnic chair, drinking the tea for her breakfast. The front left side of Hazbin Hotel is little recreational area where guests can enjoy the courtyard area of the Hotel, making the morning breakfast quite enjoyable.
Keekee, the cat that Charlie and Vaggie found living inside the Hotel, was also present, sleeping peacefully on the window ledge. Razzle observed KeeKee with a very attentive look...like a dog guarding the spot from stray cats. But thankfully Razzle does get along and doesn't bother their Cyclops cat that much.
Charlie would also arrive with Razzle. Razzle upon seeing the KeeKee, also look distrustfully at her. Even Charlie noticed.
"Razzle, just leave her alone." Charlie gently warned before taking a free seat at Vaggie's table. "Did Baxter made it for you?"
"Sí, surprisingly it's pretty good." Vaggie nodded with a smile, laying the cup on the table. "He made it as a "No hard feelings" token. I told him that I will give him to the fish-faced asshole if he won't stop making weapons of mass destruction and focus on the Hotel's maintenance."
"Did you mean it...?" Charlie raised her eyebrow. "We still need him, Vags. Elevator keeps breaking down for some reason."
"I was just intimidating him, hon. At worst, if you told me to evict Baxter, I would just have him thrown out from the Hotel. it's your call and commands, Charlie. As always..." Vaggie nodded in respect to the princess's wishes before taking the cup to finish the rest of her tea.
Between them would form an awkward silence as Vaggie drank the tea and Charlie observed the birds circling around not far away...some must have been killed by Blessed weapons.
"Still thinking about your nightmares, hon?" Vaggie interrupted.
"Not really..." Charlie shook her head. "It's just uncle Bael...died."
"Died?" Vaggie repeated in disbelief. "What happened, mi amore?"
"I don't know...he was an Old Demon at this point..." Charlie sighed, shrugging off. "And my cousin Octavia is having her own...family problems."
"Aren't we all...Mierda" Vaggie cursed quietly to herself, sympathizing with Octavia's case even though she never know her. "Are you going to attend the funeral?"
"I'm not sure..."
"Well...I will safeguard Hotel if needed, Hon. Just say the word." Vaggie assured. "Plus, that shit lord has been silent this morning. So, I have to be extra vigilant anyway."
"Alastor? You didn't see him today?"
"He is in his radio tower. Although yesterday I...um..." Vaggie awkwardly switched the wording. "Well, I was on the lookout if he won't do anything that will jeopardize you. So I carefully listened, and he is talking about how tomorrow is going to be a "Grand final of Season."
"Which is today..." Charlie pondered, bringing her finger to her lips and trying to connect dots. "Do you think it has something to do with my nightmares?"
"You mean Alastor can control your dreams?" Vaggie asked.
"No...it just-I..." Charlie tries to find the proper wording. Keekee, behind them, would wake up abruptly, with her ears twitching. "I think my dad once said that there are no coincidences. Something feels me that somewhere. ..and someone is -"
"TOOTS, TOOTS!"
"WE GOT TROUBLE!"
Both Charlie and Vaggie immediately rose to their feet, with Vaggie picking her spear up. Angel Dust was making a "Spider Jumps" to make huge leaps before landing in front of the Hotel and rushing to them.
"Angie, what -"
"My Dad is comin' after us and not in a pleasin' way!" Angel Dust tried to warn them.
"What are -" Charlie stopped herself when she heard the motor of the car sounding closer and closer.
And true to the Porn Star's word, the three demonized Mercedes-Benz 260D would enter the Hotel's courtyard and park just in front of the Hotel. Obviously, these three cars belong to the crime organization, with gangsters disembarking their cars, cocking their demonized Thompson submachines, and rushing to form the formation.
"Your old friends, Kinky Boots?" Vaggie mocked Angel, taking her spear in her two hands to make a defensive stance for combat.
"You don't know the half of it, Taco-Moth." Angel also pulled out his Thompson from his fluffy chest, ready to fight.
The closest car to Hotel would slowly open its door as the final Gangster would leave it. Unlike others, he was slow and took time to light the cigarette.
"Hello, yer Majesty. Tinkerbell..." That Black Spider Gangster greeted them, puffing the smoke from his cigar.
Like Angel, That Gangster is a Spider Demon. He is rather short, with him being only slightly taller than Niffty. He is predominantly a charcoal grey color, including his hair, which is flopped over and shorter in the back, longer in the front. He also has eight thin eyes; his six smaller eyes are in opposite positions on either side of his face, with two on top of his left eye and two beneath the other. His sclera are a pale reddish color with black pupils.
He wears a dark charcoal grey jacket, buttoned down the center with white. It has light charcoal grey lapels, is cuffed on the sleeves with pale yellow, and features a bat-wing style hem along the bottom, which has light charcoal grey lining. He also wears pale yellow pantaloon-style pants that cut-off at the knees. He accessorizes with a pale yellow spiderweb style bowtie that features a pale reddish center, as well as a fedora-style hat, banded with a pale yellow. He normally has a frown on his face and does not smile easily.
At this point even Charlie and Vaggie already knew who is this.
"Arackniss...fancy seein ya here..." Angel Dust sneered mockingly, of course it was lie. "How is pops, still bitchin' about me?"
"Choke on semen, tinkerbell." Arakniss apathetically responded before continuing. "Oh, we stumbled upon your starlet on our way. Boys, bring her here!"
By the order of their underboss. The two Capos of Ragnatella Crime Family went back to the car, opened the trunk and dragged the unfortunate sinner, who is gagged up and tied up, towards HH's staff.
"Mimzy?!" Vaggie was horrified too. It's their starlet and also "Damsell In Distress" as Alastor called out for Mimzy's always finding trouble...just as this time.
Mimzy is a curvaceous, pale-skinned woman with thick thighs, wide hips, and large breasts. She is of rather short stature, and her hair is a platinum blonde hair color and styled in a short 1920s-style bobcut. She sports black sclera with bright-pink eyes and bushy, magenta eyelashes. She has sharp teeth, pink cheeks, and wears bright-pink lipstick.
She wears a 1920s-style flapper dress in magenta shades, with a white zebra pattern on the skirt. On her head is a dark-pink headband, decorated with a large, dark-pink feather with white shades. She wears small, black heels, in addition to dark-pink opera gloves and a black pearl necklace with a pink gem in the middle.
"Come on, doll. Move already!" Two Capos dragged her and pushed her towards the Hazbin Hotel group. Vaggie would not waste time and rush to help Mimzy untie the ropes and a napkin from her mouth.
"Did they hurt you, Ms. Mizzy?" Charlie asked, also checking on her.
"Only my dignity, doll." Mimzy scowled, rubbing her arms from the rope's tightness. "Sweet merciful Mary, I thought it was just a performance check for a casting call! No one wants me, yet I'm ten times a better actress than that Mary Pickford gall!
"I think ya should start with "couch casting" first, dolly!" Angel smirked, still aiming his Thompson at his older brother.
"Angel!" Vaggie hissed, baffled by Angel's inappropriate timing.
"What! Gotta make a living somehow, eh?"
Vaggie shook her head before patting Mimzy's back, pointing her finger at the hotel's door entrance. "Take shelter in the Hotel for now and see Alastor if needed. We will tell you when it's safe."
"Thank you both, dolls. You're the best!" Mimzy thanked them kindly before rushing as quickly as possible to the entrance of Hotel, taking shelter inside of it. The Gangsters actually had the opportunity to shoot down Mimzy, but none of them did. Instead they simply lowered their machine guns while Arackniss checked his vintage watches.
"Were these knuckleheads are?" The Black Spider complained.
"Expectin' pops to come here?" Angel mocked his older brother.
"No, I'm just his ears on this matter, tinkerbell. We are not here to squabble with your Hotel pals."
"Then why are you here?" Vaggie was confused too but still showed a stoic stance against Gangsters.
"Hear it yourself, Ms. Vagatha." Arackniss responded indirectly as he heard the new sound of incoming limousine.
As Underboss Arackniss said, a limousine would turn and enter the Hazbin Hotel's perimeter, parking near the Gangster's cars. The backseat of would open with the trio leaving it.
"Mierda..." Vaggie cursed...just what they needed right now.
The First Demon is a ten-foot tall moth demon with a slender build. He has muted blue skin, red eyes, four arms, and possesses two antennae, with one having a large feather-like appearance and the other almost resembling a deer antler. He has white fuzz around his neck that serves as a 'collar' with hearts implanted in it, which is apparently a part of his body. He has a mouth full of sharp, hot pink teeth with one gold tooth.
His primary attire is a red, fur-lined coat, with white fluffy cuffs. His coat has a zebra-print appearance at the bottom, and a large top hat that also has zebra print. He is almost always seen wearing gold, heart-shaped sunglasses with pink lenses. Under his coat, he wears long stiletto high heels, fishnet stockings, and has two X symbols over his nipples. Valentino also wears black evening gloves that go slightly lighter at the tips and wrist, and he occasionally carries an assortment of canes with him.
The Second Demon is a young, slim demon with slightly grey-brown skin. She has razor-sharp teeth, and her nails are sharpened to a point.
And The Third and not the least by a mile, is a slim, technology-themed demon standing at about 7'00". He has a giant flat-screen TV for a head, and his eyes are bright red with light-blue pupils, and his left eye has black stripes with a blue, jagged pupil. He has two small antennas on the top of his head that protrude from the top of the hat that constantly have an electrical charge surging through them. He sports a mouth full of sharp, light blue teeth. His eyebrows are different colors; the left is white, and the right is light blue. He has sharp, light blue claws and dark blue skin.
Obviously if you're a sinner, everyone knows who these 3 are. In Pride, they are among the top strongest Overlords of Lucifer himself and hold a massive multimedia empire in Pentagram City.
Valentino
Velvette
Vox
And together they are
"The Vees"
"Well-Well-Well, it's our favorite majesty in all her glory." Overlord Vox was the one to speak, while Vallentino was busy observing Angel, admiring his stance. "To this day, words on these hellacious streets is that the Radio Demon is still fraternizing with the Princess of Hell. And for what, your majesty? A publicity stunt that happened 5 years ago...and still no progress yet, huh?"
"Don't you dare to speak like that to your future Queen!" Vaggie growled, protecting her girlfriend's honor.
"Oooooh, a hissy one. Ain't Vaggie a cutie, Val?" Vel asked Valentino, as she enjoyed Vaggie's tantrum. Valentino smirked back at in silence, but still letting Vox to speak. But the TV demon glanced at Arackniss instead, grumbled as he doesn't see the grand prize.
"I was told that Radio fuck will come here!"
"So, am I, Mr. Vox." Arackniss apathetically responded, just waiting for the show to begin.
Behind her girlfriend, Charlie stared at the ongoing event before she released a breath, closed her eyes and opened them before making few steps forward.
"Vees, Arackniss." Charlie began with serious tone, wishing that they would listen to her. "Look, guys. I have no quarrel with you nor with Mister Henroin. Alastor is the host of my hotel but he doesn't it use it to wage war with you. So please, I kindly ask you to leave this place at once..."
The Three Vees glanced at each other, before all of them burst into a laugh. Arackniss simply remained silent, not even interested in the mocking games.
"D-o you really *zzzz* we came here for confrontation?!" Vox laughed, his visor crackling in static due to this. "You're more naïve than our majesty told us at first!!"
Seeing that they won't listen, Charlie opted for more...harsh solution.
"I won't ask again! Leave now or I will make sure my dad will know you're harassing his daughter!"
*Chuckle*
"Ain't you're wonderful thing, apple-pie..."
Everyone shut their mouths, especially the Vees. The voice came inside the limousine interior before a leg stepped out before he himself left the limousine.
"I thought you were an independent young woman now, Charlotte...not a little girl complaining to her daddy when someone bullies her. Sooner or later, you must learn to rely on yourself."
And behind him, another person would leave the limousine, following the White Demon closely. That demon belongs to Vampire kind: pale as hell, blood veins are visible on his body and face, and the blood iris is glowing behind his sunglasses. He himself wears a very smart dark suit with a red undershirt and a very simple black tie. If you ever read the Genesis, you might recognize him from that famous "Fratricide" act...
And of course, the White Demon is, well...just like with Vees, everyone knows who he is. But unlike the trio, it would have been disrespectful that a Sinner doesn't know their majesty and the King of Pride himself.
Charlie...blinked a few times and still didn't stop as she slowly made every awkward step to him . Even Angel and Vaggie both look on in horror as their friend is about to experience the worst of it.
"D-dad?"
Notes:
Oh, boy....Talk about an increased level of Daddy issues, huh?
And with this Chapter, I welcome you all to Episode 3 of Magne Inferno, now FINALLY on Charlie's arc! This chapter is more or less just a prelude to what will come. And trust me...things get even more complicated and chaotic for the entire Hell!
Chapter 22: All Gone To Waste...
Summary:
"It Hurts, Not Being Accepted For Who You Are." - Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV Series)
Notes:
Depending on how things turn out. There might be another chapter on February/March as well. Early Chapters are not very long and so it allows to push them more early.
Also a warning: there is a chance that I might botched Alastor's character in here. This my first time ever writing him so my apologies if I'm ruined him.
Chapter Text
September 21, 2025, AD (102 Days Before the Next Purge), 7:41 AM.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City/The Hazbin Hotel's entrance
Lucifer Morningstar...
Even sounding this name sends a shiver down Sinners' spines...
Since the ancient times of Inferno, Charlie's dad evokes fear and trepidation in even the most hardened sinners. Despite his scarce appearances in Pentagram City, he has gained widespread infamy and is seen as a source of terror by the residents of Pride Ring. Given that he is a fallen angel and the ruler of Hell, that reputation is well-deserved. He is widely associated with evil, sin, and temptation and is considered a formidable force to be reckoned with. The legend of his rebellion against Heaven and rallying of the angels still captivates Demons to this day.
Vaggie and Angel Dust serve as prime examples of the fear that Lucifer Morningstar inspires. Even the moth demon, who has seen Charlie's father on a few occasions, remains intimidated by him. Whenever Lucifer is present, Vaggie never speaks directly to him and always remains close to Charlie for protection...ironic as Vaggie is usually the one who protects Charlie...
Angel Dust, on the other hand, displays a clear look of horror and fear upon seeing the fallen angel with his own eyes. His forced attendance at Catholic church and exposure to Bible stories at the hands of his mother only serve to intensify his fear.
Despite the intimidating presence of Lucifer Morningstar, the Overlords, were able to maintain their composure due to their frequent experience in dealing with the Ruler of Hell, they nonetheless kept their mouths shut and maintained a respectful silence. Velvette, on the other hand, was browsing the Hellnet on her phone out of boredom. And Cain...well Cain doesn't give a fuck...son of Satan and Eve, after all.
"Well, of course I'm your "Dad" apple-pie. How many more "fathers" do you know?" Lucifer smirked at Charlie's silly question. Cain, behind Lucifer, scowled to himself at that, summoning a cigarette.
"Well yeah...just...b-but...why are you both doing here?" Charlie asked.
"Just some family business, C.M." Cain replied, approaching the Vees. Overlord Valentino slightly backed away as Cain gave him a disdainful sneer, taking in the ridiculous appearance of Valentino's pimp suit. "And I'm making sure every party behaves in my presence for today's announcement."
"And speaking of parties , my dear Cain." Lucifer added with a grin, turning his attention to Vaggie. "You look lovely to this day, Ms. Vagatha. Now, be a good Charlie's little sex toy and bring the rest of your tenants here. I want to see the achievements of my daughter's work."
"B-but," Vaggie stammered.
"Did I stutter with my wording, Vaggie?" Lucifer's tone turned menacing, despite the hint of goofiness still present in his voice.
Charlie looked back and gave a nod for Vaggie to listen to her dad. And so, without any choice, the Moth demon went inside the hotel to get everyone outside for the King's own amusement. The Princess, however, won't just allow her dad to be in full control.
"Why are you doing this, Dad?"
"Not even "Hello dad, how are you doing?" huh? Straight to the point, I like it!"
"It's not like that!" Charlie showed her palms in defense. "It's good to see you really, dad...but why are you doing this?"
"Sweetheart, I'm Lucifer bloody Morningstar. I'm the ruler of Hell, and I do as I please. I don't need to remind you that I saved your ass and boy, let me tell how much shit I got on my shoulders since that day. I can't help but chuckle when I think about it. But who said that Fallen Angels can't be generous every now and then and let it slide by... until now ." Lucifer replied quietly, a smirk still playing on his lips as he saw that Charlie tensed even more from hearing this. "Now, let's not waste any more time. I have an announcement to make, and I wouldn't want to keep my ducks waiting."
Charlie sighed and reluctantly stepped aside, allowing her dad to do whatever he wanted. The Princess of Hell couldn't help but wonder what sort of announcement the ruler of Hell was about to make. Whatever it was, she was sure that it wouldn't bode well for anyone.
At the same time, Vaggie would return with the rest of Hazbin Hotel's staff and tenants, even Mimzy, who hides herself behind Vaggie's back. Lucifer chuckled as he walked up to them. Neither of them said a word as they simply stood quietly, even Niffty, who stared attentively at her "Jigoku". Vaggie laid her arms on Niffty's tiny shoulders...just in case Niffty tried to do something stupid...like hug Lucifer Morningstar.
"Ah, Charlie's own servants. Welcome back to my humble circus! How are you faring this fine day?!"
"Well, we-" Angel Dust tried to speak on behalf of the group.
"AWESOME! I'm happy you're having a good time!" Lucifer interrupted the Spider, completely not caring what he wanted to say. "I can imagine how happy you are to see this magnificent king flood you with his glory!"
The response from the group was just a silent stare...fear spoke for itself.
"I was expecting more roleplaying." Even Lucifer raised an eyebrow at this nonsensical response. But he'd eventually brush it off. "Oh, we'll change that."
Lucifer performed a "ballerina" turn to face the first murderer, who rested his back against one of the Gangsters' cars, much to the dismay of the rest of the Gangsters and Arackniss.
"My boy, I need cash."
The vampire lord sighed before summoning a wallet. "How much?"
"All of it. Thank you." Lucifer snatched the wallet with a simple telekinesis spell. He then checked every clip one by one, tossed away the ones he didn't need, and finally found the correct ones. The money paper was a 1000 souls valued clip, with Lucifer himself depicted on it with a serious face.
"Ah, here we are." The King of Hell then brought the money clip to his face for comparison, mimicking the serious face just like in the picture.
"Hm? All right...How about this, with the smile?" Lucifer tossed that paper clip away and brought the next one to his face, mimicking the smile.
Again, none of Charlie's friends responded, silently observing their king in respect. Annoyed, Lucifer immediately switched his smile into an eerie glance as he tossed that clip and brought another one. For the final time, he showed the paper much closer to them.
" Ahem ..." Lucifer warned, still holding that paper clip very close.
"That's you...your majesty." Vaggie spoke on behalf of everyone.
"That's me." Lucifer spoke slowly, hoping that every sound in his voice was taken seriously. But he would take a glance at that paper clip, noting how much time had passed. "Although, I'm not so sure anymore..."
Grumbling, he set that paper money and wallet on fire and tossed it away. Cain again sighed in an apathetic tone...it was his money. The King of Hell then looked at Arakniss' gang of thugs... and had an idea.
"Ah, of course. "Nothing beats a good little musical performance to lift the spirits!"
Clapping his hands twice, the gangsters now held musical instruments instead of their Thompsons...Al Capone would be horrified by this scene.
"Aw, come on! What a bunch of cannolis, my lord?" One of the gangsters objected. And that earned him a straight lightning bolt into his head, causing Arackniss to nearly fall off on his feet. Nothing of the gangster's head remained, and the rest of his body simply collapsed in front of horrified mobsters.
"Anyone else feel like being uncharitable to their king?" Lucifer grinned, blowing smoke off his fingers.
The Gangsters looked at each other in horror before declaring. "Um, nope. Nope at all, our Don!"
"Now that's the spirit!" Lucifer chimed in, as if he hadn't done anything a few seconds before. He once more made a "ballerina" turn to Charlie. "Now, my dear, what's that thing James Brown said?"
"James who?" Charlie raised her eyebrow.
"I feel Good ." Lucifer gave an over-the-top serious look at Charlie. With the simple tap of his cane, Lucifer commanded for the Gangster who held an accordion to start playing. "And a one, and a two, and a waka-waka-waaa!"
The King of Hell skipped towards the Hazbin Hotel's main doors, closing them behind him for his performance debut.
By Lucifer Morningstar and [Unfortunate] Trope
Lucifer's singing: normal text
Trope's Singing: italic text
Lucifer and Trope in unison: Italic Bold Text
♪ "It's Lucifer, it's Lucifer, it's Lucifer" ♪
♪ "It's Lucifer, it's Lucifer, it's Lucifer." ♪
*Lucifer slams the doors open, now wearing his typical top hat with a long coat. He nearly stomped poor Keekee on his way but their cat managed to slip by in the time.*
♪ "Who else has such robust good looks in such a large amount?" ♪
♪ "I'm handsome and I'm talented and love your apple pies!" ♪
*Lucifer once more points his finger to the troupe, reminding them to OBEY.*
[Chorus]
♪ "It's Lucifer, it's Lucifer, it's Lucifer" ♪
♪ "It's Lucifer, it's Lucifer, it's Lucifer." ♪
♪ "The L is for Leader, just another word for circus lead." ♪
♪ "U!" ♪
♪ "Ugh, what a handsome king. I want to Lust over him." ♪
♪ "C!" ♪
♪ "For the capital, Mammon had to learn it the hard way." ♪
♪ "I!" ♪
♪ "For the irritation, you know what happens when you annoy me." ♪
♪ "F!" ♪
"For Food, I love candies!"
♪ "E!" ♪
♪ "For ego, you need to be self-aware!" ♪
♪ "R!" ♪
♪ "For the regality, which is such a crucial factor," ♪
♪ "When you're handsome and good-looking and the Hell's greatest King!" ♪
[Chorus]
♪ "It's Lucifer, it's Lucifer, it's Lucifer" ♪
♪ "It's Lucifer, it's Lucifer, it's Lucifer." ♪
♪ "Who else has such robust good looks in such a large amount?" ♪
♪ "I'm handsome and I'm talented and love your apple pies!" ♪
*Unnecessary slam of Hi-hats*
*Lucifer looks at that Gangster in annoyance for few seconds...before just opting to finish the song.*
"It's Lucifer, it's Lucifer, it's Lucifer"
"It's Lucifer, it's Lucifer -
it's
"LUCIFER!"
At the end of his song, Lucifer struck a dramatic pose and beamed his biggest smile. However, the Hazbin Hotel staff and tenants remained silent, uncertain about how to react to his performance.
"♪ It's L-u-c-i-f-e-r! ♪," Lucifer wiggled his fingers, hoping for a response. Behind their king, the gangsters exchanged looks, unsure of what to do with their instruments. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Charlie spoke up.
"I think my friends understand who you are, Dad."
"Ah, wonderful, then..." Lucifer dropped his hands in defeat, realizing that his efforts were in vain. "Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained," as humans say. Now that the formalities are established, I want to see if everyone is here."
Lucifer moved closer to the group, giving a general overview of Charlie's friends, starting with Angel Dust and then moving on to the rest in order.
"Ah, Anthony. Nice to see you. Hello there grumpy-cat. Sup my favorite "Adam Destroyer" Sinner. Frankestein...yep. You, Crymi...and Mimmzy...nice tits, by the way!"
"Aw, thank you, my-," Mimzy responded, flattered.
"I was joking; they're horrible!" Lucifer quickly corrected her.
"Aww..." Mimzy sighed in defeat. There is no appreciation for starlets these days.
Ignoring her, the fallen angel whistled in admiration at Charlie's crew, his eyes amused. It was evident that he was enjoying every moment of this, relishing in the fear and awe that he elicited from those around him. After finishing circling them around, Lucifer stopped walking and looked directly at the group.
"Ah, I see who is missing....and how can we forget everyone's favorite esteemed stage actor of this finest establishment?! That's right! I know you're listening to us, you smiley bastard! Come out and show us your presence!"
"Always the finest with the word!"
"Mierda..." Vaggie cursed under her nose. Just as she feared...
The city of Pentagram is no stranger to notorious murderers and serial killers from different eras, but one stands out from the rest. In the 1930s, he became the terror of Pentagram City, leaving behind a legacy of infamy that still haunts the city to this day.
Upon his rebirth in Hell, he quickly rose to power, overthrowing centuries-old Overlords and spreading chaos throughout the city. He broadcasted his atrocities and the torture of former Overlords to induce fear in the Pride realm. He was a relentless force, terrorizing and tormenting the citizens of Pentagram City. At the height of his power, he ruled over the entire city, instilling fear in all those who crossed his path.
Thus, the Legend of " The Radio Demon" was born.
And He is here.
"My apologies for not coming sooner, fellers. But I would be lying if it wasn't entertaining to watch my King." Alastor chuckled as he suddenly appeared behind Vox and the rest of the Vees, causing the TV demon to yell in surprise. Alastor mockingly patted Vox's head, as if to say "no hard feelings, friend," before joining Charlie's side, but not the rest of the hotel group.
"Fucking prick..." Vox scowled at himself, before quickly switching to his professional demeanor. " Well! If it isn't the Princess of Hell's latest simp! We were just-"
"Having a wholesome and silly family reunion?" Alastor again in his repertoire, also laying his arm around Charlie's shoulder in a sign of "greetings, my co-owner", much to her discomfort...and no personal space whatsoever.
"You've got a lot of nerve to hide behind me, Radio fuck." Vox cursed back.
"And you have a lot of nerve being not dead, my good old chum. Not to mention how you're incapable of running your mouth in such an imprudent manner?" Instead of his usual neutral smile, Alastor responded to banter with a massive grin. "Let's try to have a civil discussion, as our fabulous King is present over here, shall we?"
"Why thank you, my good bitch." Lucifer chuckled, although he enjoyed that little banter. He would then glance at the rest of the group, realizing they had to watch it all. "Again, I'm terribly sorry for what happened before. It's my overlords, you see, always ready to tear each other apart at the moment I throw a bone at them. Now, you may wonder, "Why did such a handsome king bring you all here?" Well, it so happens that this 'fine establishment' became a hotbed of "Overlord" infighting."
As he said that, Lucifer walked over to where the rest of the Vees were. Vox looked over at Lucifer to see him donning an ear-splitting grin with a more than pleased expression plastered all over his face. The TV demon felt a slight shudder run through his system at the sight and averted his gaze before Lucifer could notice. Neither Valentino nor Velvette fared better.
"As time went by, me and dearest Lilith learned quite well that in the business of "ruling," there is no such thing as "loyal subjects." Goetia, they can do that. They can tell you they are loyal in the moment and mean it sometimes. Overlords, on the other hand, no. Overlords are only really loyal to you in hindsight...when too much distance has built up from me."
Lucifer then pulled out a golden pen from his chest pocket, stroking the surface of the pen.
"All of you know that I'm very "picky" when it comes to Overlords. And so, when an Overlord fails to fulfill his king's wishes, I cannot help but blame myself for the failures of my Overlords." Lucifer then laid one of his hands on Vox's shoulder, causing the circuits and Vox's CPU to heat up in full worry. "Then I realized...it's not me who is a problem, no...it was the fucking Vees' incompetency!"
With a swift motion, Lucifer pushed Vox to the ground and stabbed his back with his own pen.
"FUUUUUCK!" Vox screamed so loudly in pain. Lucifer managed to pierce his pen enough that some oil as Vox's own blood leaked from the wound. It made even Vaggie and Charlie cringe from the metal crack as Vox screamed in agony, clenching his digital teeth. Alastor only grinned even more, relishing every moment of Vox's agony.
"Voxy!" Velvette screamed in horror. Valentino, on the other hand, gripped the young one's arm to keep her from doing anything stupid.
"Those fucking Overlords, they ruin everything!" Lucifer explained this back at Charlie, hoping she would take this lesson before screaming back at Vox. "Like the fancy tile you're bleeding on, huh?! Did no one teach you that it's not nice bleed out in front of your guests?!"
"God, it hurts so (zzz)-ch!" Vox still whimpered in pain...and that was even worse for him.
"God?" Lucifer repeated to himself, with his left eye twitching from hearing that. "Really, Vox? In front of my presence? Oh, my poor, Sinner. You don't invoke God's name like that. You scream or cry for help! So, come on. You're going to cry for God's help. If you're going to do something, you're going to do it right."
Lucifer then forced Vox to stand up by pulling the pen up and forced Vox away from the other Vees before pointing his finger at the distant planet with the Halo on it.
"Here we go! Go on! Cry for help!" Lucifer commanded, only to shift into an eerie tone as Vox didn't do it immediately, not to mention pushing the pen deeper into Vox's back. "Cry-for-help."
"H-help!" Vox whimpered like a sad dog at Heaven in the skies.
"Aw, pathetic..." Lucifer shook his head in disappointment. "No, "Cry-for-help!"
"Help me!" Vox was more vocal, still feeling a great deal of pain.
"Like you mean it, Sinner!" Lucifer hissed.
"HELP!
"HELP! LIKE YOU'RE ABOUT TO BE KILLED BY YOUR KING, HELP !" Lucifer screamed, demanding even more power from Vox.
"HELP FUCKING HEEEEELP *Sobing* !" Vox screamed as loud as fuck in the Hazbin Hotel's courtyard.
"Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh. Now we listen... "Lucifer brought his finger to Vox's visor. He then gave Vox ten seconds to listen before asking him again. "What did you hear?"
"N-nothing..." Vox whimpered
"That's right. I'm afraid God won't save you, my buddy Overlord. No one is good enough for Him. The only solace you can find is with me."
Chuckling and seeing that he learned, Lucifer ripped his pen out and let go of Vox, with the TV Demon falling on his knees. Both Valentino and Velvette rushed to check on him. The King of Hell would toss his pen to Cain; no words were needed that it needed to be cleaned from Vox's oily blood.
"Your fellow Overlords, right, Alastor?" Lucifer chuckled at Radio Demon, who flatteringly shrugged his shoulders, agreeing with his king. "Consider this a gift, as neither these three nor Mr. Henroin will bother you any more."
"But?" Charlie knew there was a huge catch.
"Shining your wisdom, huh, Charlie?" Even Lucifer chuckled at that, happy she saw him through.
With a single hand gesture, he dismissed both Arackniss and the Vees, letting them go and...do what they usually do. The Black Spider Demon bowed his head before he and the rest of the gangsters would get inside their cars and drive away from Hotel premise. Angel Dust scowled at himself...not even "Goodbye, tinkerbell" from his older brother...prick.
The Vees would also depart, helping the wounded Vox get himself inside the limo, but not before Valentino would bring his attention to his pornstar.
"You're coming with us, Angel cakes. I don't need to remind you your shift started a few minutes ago." Valentino even tapped his golden watch as a reminder for Angel's "Time = Money" policy.
"Yeah-yeah, ya piece of shit..." Angel Dust grumbled to himself. When Lucifer punished Vox, he wished something similar would have happened to Valentino...hope dies the last, it seems to be. And so Angel Dust was about to walk, only for Vaggie to grip his arm.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Angel. Stop listening to that rapist. We will protect you from him."
"Easy for you to say, Taco moth. Ya have yar Charlie to protect ya..." Angel Dust yanked her arm away. "Besides, someone has to pay the rent for yar Hotel."
And so, without any choice, Angel Dust would leave their group and fall into Valentino's shackles. On his way, Angel glanced at Charlie, who returned it, showing concern and sympathy for the Pornstar. And yet, Angel Dust, as per usual, has to be someone's bitch just to survive in this hell.
"Your own fault, Anthony." Lucifer called out, surprising the pornstar. "A couple of bad choices in life and everything crashes down on you. Funny how it goes for sinners like you, not to mention He. - " Lucifer points his finger up to the skies. "- allows it to exist."
"Yeah, yeah, yar majesty." Angel said dismissively, completely not interested in these "Religious bullshit" arguments. The Spider Demon would get himself inside the limo, with Valentino slamming the door before the limousine drove away. Now that it's done. Lucifer would then direct his attention to his daughter.
"Now, Charlie..." Lucifer started, only to make a slow chuckle to himself. "Oh, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie..."
"Dad?" Charlie wasn't sure what he is doing.
"I'm sorry, apple-pie. It's just now I realized how time flies by in Hell, huh? The memories of when you were in our Mansion still linger on...but look at you: a proud owner of your own business. Funny enough, I once thought to open a nightclub in Los Angeles. I would have called it "Lux" as a homage to myself...but you know how it is, dreams are crushed, and we move forward...or maybe it happened already in different timeline ...."
"You don't have to give up that easily, Dad. You can always follow your dreams in the future." Charlie assured, still not sure what her dad's intention is. Lucifer only smirked to her in silence...too naive.
"Oh, sugarpie, Look at you!" Lucifer beamed, sweeping forward to wrap his arm around her shoulder. "And no offense, my dear. Did you gain weight recently? I recall you were thinner and less paler. Don't get me wrong, but it would seem your chest has become bigger as well."
"Dad! Could we not have these talks in front of my friends, please?" Charlie complained, even blushing in embarrassment. Thank the Devil that Vaggie didn't hear it, as she was busy having a "death-stare" contest with Alastor...who interpreted it as a "no-blinking" game.
"No need to be defensive, my dear. I saw a lot of my bare-chested female siblings, and it never bothered me. To be an angel is to be beautiful and glamorous...as my sister used to say." Lucifer assured, somewhat quite surprised that Eve's curse applies to Charlie.
"Yeah...just let us not discuss it, okay?" Charlie asked kindly. Lucifer sighed at that but fulfilled her wish. "How was your day, Dad? You have been so busy lately…"
"Oh, you know how it is." Lucifer smiled sharply, though he had already shown how to "fake" this smile. "I’ve had a lot on my plate lately as Inferno is ripping itself apart every second when I turn my back to my Kingdom....but so have you, from what I've witnessed!"
Charlie already knew it's about these two who visited her recently. And so, she opted to be straight with him.
"Dad, you knew sooner or later I would have to confront them directly. Yeah, it was my fault for what happened in that meeting in Heaven that led you to rescue me...but I can make it work!"
"And that's the problem, my child!" Lucifer beamed, but again he showed so much irritation. "You see, Charlie. I know you quite well. Before you landed on your "Hotel" idea, how many projects had you planned before that succeeded, hmm? Quite a lot that I wouldn’t be able to count on my fingers. And what makes you think the Hotel will?"
"Because they heard my plea this time." Charlie said it stoically and proudly.
"Aww, but the question is, what makes you think they will accept it now? What makes you think Heaven would ever accept a sinner from Hell now that we killed their finest, huh?" Lucifer noted his tone for Charlie to ponder.
"But…b-b-...but" Charlie stuttered, her voice trembling. "it's Heaven . Dad . We only did it in self defense and I'm sure Emily will help Heaven to forgive us."
"Ahh yes, that's essentially how it will work now, hurray." And once more, the fallen angel chuckled at Charlie's reasons...so much naivity. "You saw these Exorcists... Heaven is so righteous and noble that they send a fucking bitter first man of mankind to kill and murder his OWN DESCENDANTS, mind you, in the name of God or whatever they now worship up there these days...
"Well, they must have a reason!" Charlie argued back. "Sera and Emily were different than Adam. I saw there was "goodness" and no ill intent in them. The more I look at exterminations... it feels like something is not right and is more complicated than we used to believe ."
Ironically, Lucifer slightly tensed up...just what he needed from Charlie...truth seeker.
"I-it's simpler than you think, Charlie" Lucifer quickly fixed his posture to look more confident. "At the end of day. They HATE us up there. They will seek to genocide us if they have their way with us!"
"But the Seraphims, they - "
"Charlie, please don't argue with the one who used to live up there, Charlie." Lucifer shut her off. He would then lower his voice, not wanting to sound too angry. "Listen, sweet cheeks. I...had the opportunity to talk with Lilith few days ago and-"
"You did!?" Charlie perked up in joy.
"Yes...and Lilith misses you, okay? But things had changed since we destroyed Adam's forces on that day...and I hate to say this Charlie but you must abandon your pursuit with your Redemption idea."
"Y-you-WHAT!?" Charlie was about to throw a tantrum, not believing what she just heard. But Lucifer immediately stopped, showing his palm instead.
"But I want to offer a compromise. You can have your Hotel as a separate business with Alastor or not. The only thing I ask in return is that you stop wasting your precious time with redemption."
Charlie took a deep breath, her eyes filled with nothing but sadness. She slowly turned and pointed to a nearby statue.
"Dad, do you remember him?" She asked softly.
Lucifer's gaze followed her gesture, landing on the imposing figure of Sir Pentious cast in stone. His expression flickered with recognition, tinged with an awkward discomfort.
"I do..." He replied, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.
Charlie nodded, her eyes never leaving the statue. "He died fighting for his friends here at the Hotel, Dad. He changed. He grew. In his final moments, he chose to protect others rather than save himself."
She turned back to face her father, her voice gaining strength. "That's what this is all about: It's not longer just about redemption in Heaven's eyes. It's about the change that can happen here, in Hell. Sir Pentious proved that even the most unlikely of souls can find a better path. I can't give up on this, Dad. Not when I've seen firsthand the difference it can make. The Hotel isn't just a business or a naive dream. It's a chance for souls like Sir Pentious to find meaning, to grow, to be better. And I can say that there is progress. Vaggie, my love of life, showed support and courage when no one else did at the start. Husk, who showed how complicated sinners are. Niffty, who shows signs of happiness no matter what! Alastor, who gave up at the height of his power after he got bored with everything! Baxter, who shows his love for science! Crymini, who I can see wants to spend time with us, and Mimzy, who supports me financially, even if she didn't need to do it. Without my friends, I would have long abandoned that idea. But through them, I saw it was possible. Overlords or the rest of hell can push me around all they want, but I care about every single one of them, no matter how lost they may seem. And if Heaven doesn't see that… Then I'll just have to convince them!"
Although they remained silent in Lucifer and Charlie's arguments. Charlie's friends all were flattered by her beliefs...even Husk if he didn't show it. Alastor had to quietly chuckle at that...this is one of many reasons why he enjoys her company. She is something among the ordinary demon kind.
Lucifer remained silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the statue of Sir Pentious. A flicker of emotion crossed his face - perhaps recognition, perhaps regret. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.
He shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Damn you, Lilith."
Then, straightening his posture and adjusting his hat, Lucifer turned to face Charlie directly. His demeanor shifted, becoming more authoritative, more reminiscent of the King of Hell rather than a concerned father.
"Charlie," Lucifer began, his voice firm and measured, "Do you truly understand how Heaven works?"
His eyes bore into hers, searching for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. The playful, sometimes mocking tone he often used was gone, replaced by a seriousness that Charlie rarely saw in her father.
"Tell me, my dear. What do you think happens behind those pearly gates? How do you imagine the system of redemption functions up there. Because I can assure you..." Lucifer added, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice, "it's not the paradise your mother and I allowed you to believe in all these years. "
Here, Charlie remained silent once more, not sure what to say.
"See, you don't know...." Lucifer continued, now being complete serious. "What makes you think you have a chance in Hell of redeeming Sinners? You even have no idea what drives them to sin in the first place. You have no concept of what suffering truly is. Of course it's easy to say, "You can do better," like my sister Zadkiel or Emily does, but they both have no fucking clue!"
“I…” Charlie stammered, holding back her frustrated tears...fighting the truth.
"So, let's imagine that, by some miracle, you actually manage to redeem a sinner and send them to Heaven. What's gonna happen after that? Will more degenerates rush to the hotel for salvation once the news hits? The Old Man and Old Lady appear in the sky to congratulate you on a job well done? ...No, Charlie. All those sinners, you know, the rapists, murderers, and drug addicts you claim to adore? They will never be saved. Humans are naturally nested in sin, and they die every second! Even if you found a way to straighten them out, you would have to reform at least thousands of sinners once per day! And that's not all! What happens if the hotel becomes overcrowded? What if your patients relapse? Did you even bother to think about how long the redemption process would take? Days? Months? Years? Don't expect me to believe that you can absolve hundreds of their sins in just one day when you can barely control that aberrant prostitute called "Angel Dust"
"I..."
"And even if you convince Heaven to accept a sinner, what if they break one of the thousands of regulations that Heaven has established? I'll tell you what would happen: they'd be dumped like sacks of shit. Sorry, Apple, but the cracks are really starting to show in this little venture. Down here, sinners are free to indulge in whatever hedonistic pleasures they want. No restrictions, no rules! Just the way things should be for the worst scum of humanity!"
"Not, you're-"
"Completely right, girl! That "Christian Universalism" bullshit does not exist! Hell is FOVERER. This realm always was and always will be! WE’RE ALL DAMMED HERE!"
"Ain't that a truth..." Cain muttered to himself. He is not much of an "opinion" provider in the conversations...but he won't deny that both of them are stuck to their beliefs like Abel was...
Charlie would have reached her breaking point at this point... tears streaming down her cheeks. Vaggie and, to some extent, Mimzy, wanted to come up to comfort Charlie, but Lucifer showed his palm, commanding her to stop. Even Alastor blocked her path, still maintaining that grin from hearing this conversation.
Lucifer after this, remained silent, watching how Charlie sniffed. Although his face remained uptight at first, it shifted into a worried one. Truth hurts no matter what, but seeing her like this is pitiful to behold.
"I was in your shoes, Charlie....A great misunderstood dreamer." Lucifer began again, this time much nicer and quieter than before. "I believed in everything that was told to me. But I learned and started to doubt. Things went on and on before I found myself like this...you will outgrow this as well, Charlie. Come on, we will have a special cake in the next few hours, and I want you to-."
Lucifer was about to touch her shoulder, only for Charlie to take a step away from him, giving a very serious glance at her father...that even Lucifer felt...uncanny.
"Did you recall the conversation you and I had back when I started with my idea?"
"And how does it relate to anything?" Lucifer's left eyebrow raised a bit; he wasn't sure why she was mentioning it.
"Everything!" Charlie snapped a bit. "I told you many times how painful it is seeing my people get slaughtered year after year! And somehow, despite centuries of death and suffering, I'm the only demon in power who bothers to help them! Maybe you're right, Father. Maybe I don't know what I'm doing. Maybe Heaven will never accept sinners. Maybe I can't save them... But I'll never know until I try. I will never stop believing in them....UNLIKE YOU!"
Lucifer stared silently at her; he too showed anger back at Charlie...and yet Charlie wasn't afraid...there is something poetic about it.
"Oh, Charlotte," Lucifer began, smiling indulgently at her. "I knew you were naive, but I didn't think you were this fucking stupid."
"OKAY, FATHER! WHY THEN?! WHY IS HELL LIKE THIS!!!" Charlie had enough of this too.
"BECAUSE I'M A FUCKING FALLEN ANGEL!" Lucifer snapped at her, and again Charlie showed no fear. "I rule this fucking Kingdom and the rest of the shitheads who are wretched scum of humanity! AND YOU HAVE TO BE MIGHTY AND SHIT, TO JUST DEFILE FOR WHAT HELL STANDS FOR!"
"Then maybe it's Hell's problem, huh!? Why does it have to be like this when we can make it just an alternate afterlife from Heaven, old man!? Why is it that our kingdom doesn't DO ANYTHING about it, huh?!" Charlie's tone had completely changed to "sassy and proud" at this point. Cain could be so proud of Charlie for defiling her father...serves him right.
"That's not how it works, brat!"
"Did you try at least once, Pigeon!?" Charlie ironically used Lucifer's own arsenal against him.
"No I -"
"Then try at least one before you spew this bullshit, your majesty!" Charlie snapped back again.
"WOW! Thank you, your majesty Lucifera!" Lucifer fake-clapped his hands. "Just what I need: advice from some rebellious child who berates my every decision and won't shut up and listen to me!"
"Who gives YOU the authority to pass judgment on me and my actions?!?" Charlie insulted.
"BECAUSE I'M IN CHARGE AND YOU WILL LISTEN TO YOUR FATHER, YOUNG LADY!"
"YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY OVER ME, FATHER! I DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT!"
...
...
Like Father...
Like Daughter
Lucifer heard that quite well. As he took a few steps away from her, a genuine shock appeared on his face. Charlie used the same words as Lucifer when he confronted his own father on that fateful day in heaven.
And worse,
He was there.
The Devil himself stood on one of the balconies of the Hazbin Hotel, hands behind his back, as he observed this scene unfolding itself...The Devil sure had a weird sense of humor.
Lucifer occasionally returned his gaze to the Devil himself on the balcony and to Charlie, who still glared angrily at her father, her horns and bloody eyes appearing from a great deal of rage; here he must be cautious, as the Devil has long warned about "unexpected consequences" when it comes to Charlie. And so...he has to be extra careful and pragmatic.
"Oh, Charlie..." Lucifer sighed, beginning another monologue. "Please realize that I truly want you to be happy in the first place. I would have accepted if you just ran this Hotel like a normal one. But no, you had to fly up and up before your wings would crash sooner or later."
"Y-You do...?" Charlie softened a bit, his horns disappearing once more...she never knew that he would be okay with that.
"I do, my apple pie. But I cannot accept that you're getting involved with these fuckers up there.... I have indulged and respected these silly fantasies of your time and time again. I even had to do things I'm not proud of, just for you...But enough is enough."
Lucifer would extend his arm forward, scaring Charlie's friends, who believed that he was about to kill them...Instead, he summoned a hellphone, grinning that her friends fell for it. He dialed and held the phone to his ear, waiting for someone to answer. He also turned on the loud microphone for Charlie to hear.
"Yes?" Someone said from the other side of the phone call.
"Quite yes, indeed. Your king is speaking. Where is Mammon?"
"He is in a board meeting with investors, my lord. Do you want me to hand the phone to him?"
"No need: I have a demand for Greed Ring. Please get me information on the property called "Hazbin Hotel" Pride Ring, Pentagram City."
"A minute, if you will, my lord."
"What are you-"
"Be quiet, Charlie..." Lucifer shooed her off. He then glanced at his watches and marked the time, interested to see if it would take a minute or two. There is a lot of shuffling and paper sorting coming from the phone. Only after 20 seconds will the speaker on Mammon's behalf respond.
"I think I found it, My lord. "Happy Hotel" as it is named and marked as a "royal" property of Inferno."
"Yes, about that...I declare that it's now "private property" from now on."
"What!?" Charlie shrieked. "But-but you can't!"
"Don't mind the external sounds, my subject. Are we clear with my wish?!"
"Yes, my lord. Mammon shall reregister the property by the end of the day."
"Good, carry on then." Lucifer ended the call and looked at his daughter with smugness. "Like I said before, Charlie. I won't raise my hand against you, your "friends" or your Hotel. But it doesn't mean you can use your royalty "privilege" to play games. Hell, I even gave you a favor too, as Overlords won't bother you anymore. But this is your property after all, and you must abide by the laws of my kingdom...and that means:"
"You must pay taxes."
The reaction was priceless for the Hazbin Hotel tenants and staff. Vaggie had an "oh, fuck" moment. Ironically, Baxter fell unconscious, Mimzy fainted in Vaggie's arms, Niffty made a pog face, and Crymini threw her hands in the air, expecting her rent to rise, while Husk raised an eyebrow.
"We never paid taxes?" Husk repeated.
"Of course, Husker! Why would we?" Alastor chimed in.
"...I never thought I'd find myself working in a communist hotel..." Husk shook his head slowly.
Charlie, of all people, was even more horrified by this. But as proud as she could get, she still remained stoic. "Alright then, I will pay my property rent with ease!"
"With what?" Lucifer asked sweetly. "You do realize your bank account is linked to MINE, Charlie?"
"But-But-"
"Now, I know you think I'm being unfair here, but trust me, it's for your own good. You might get yourself even more familiar with sinners that way, sharing stories of how a monarchy can be cruel and all that!" Lucifer continued to smile, glancing down to notice Razzle staring at them. "ALSO, I'm taking Razzle away from you because, why not?!"
As soon as he said that, he cast a spell on his fingers and sent it towards Razzle. The poor boy didn't have a chance to react, returning him back to being a lifeless toy.
"Dad, please, don't - !"
"Come on, Charlie." Lucifer snatched the lifeless toy from the floor, preventing Charlie from taking him. "You're a grown-ass woman. It's time for you to stop playing with toys. Have a good day!"
Lucifer waved his hand, only for Charlie to grip his arm. "No - wait! Please, listen to me, Dad!"
"Listen to you, after you denounced your father and went against his wishes?! Oh, no-no-no, that's not how it works. You've proven yourself before to be a capable woman before, Charlie. Everything is now in your hands."
Without even looking back at his daughter (and hiding his near -broken face of emotions), Lucifer walked away, only to stop in front of the Vampire Lord.
"Cain, be a good bloodsucker and make sure that Charlie doesn't try to do anything funny...I won't tolerate any more of her rebellious phases."
"You do realize I won't raise my hand against my cousin?" Cain apathetically responded.
"And do you realize the "You-know-who" will fucking kill you if you won't behave, my stepson?" Lucifer threatened. Unlike with Charlie, he showed that neither he nor she would hesitate to kill Cain off. Lucifer gave one final death stare at Cain as a "reminder" before he himself disappeared from the scene.
And there it was...an exile.
Even after Lucifer had left them, Charlie stood frozen in place, feeling all the weight of the world on her shoulders...not to mention losing Razzle. Vaggie knew it was one of those moments, and it was best to talk privately.
"Guys, I don't want to sound rude, but...Well, Charlie needs some alone time. Could you excuse us now? We will announce if there will be changes."
"You sure?" Mimzy asked, who also wants to comfort Charlie.
"Trust me...it's best If I talk with her...it just...she is more open to me, if it makes sense. Oh, and, Niffty, please clean the body from our premise." Vaggie didn't want to sound rude by shooing them away.
"We understand...see you inside." Mimzy and the rest of the group nodded, with all of them getting inside the hotel to restart their mundane morning. Niffty rubbed her hands eagerly as she grabbed the gangster's body by the hands and dragged him to one of the "special" corners of Pentagram City she was familiar with.
And with that everyone was gone by Vaggie's wish...except for Alastor...because of course he’s the exception in everything.
"Ah, Charlie! What a wonderful show you put on for us this fine morning!" said a cheerful voice. A clawed hand landed on her shoulder, but Charlie wasn't even fazed by it. She knew it was just Alastor standing directly behind her, with a toothy, smug-looking grin splitting his face wide open.
"Do you think arguing with her father and then breaking their relationship is entertaining to you?!" Vaggie passive-aggressively barked at Alastor as she also came closer to Charlie.
"I would be lying if I said it wasn't, ha-ha!" Alastor wholeheartedly chuckled, tapping the tip of his radio staff to Vaggie's shoulder. "Cheer up, my doll! Hell is full of stories of untold tragedies and full-on adventures!"
Vaggie gritted her teeth, deciding not to give Alastor any more fun than he should have. She then laid her hand on Charlie's shoulder. "I'm so sorry about this, hon. No one deserves to be treated like this by their own father."
"And to think he'd done much for me before... and he just disowned me... and stole my Razzle." Charlie sniffed to herself.
"Don't let him stop you, hon. You're better than this," Vaggie cooed, and even Alastor had to nod in agreement...need to be agreeable to Vaggie sometimes.
Charlie didn't dignify that with a response. She did, however, give a nod of thanks to Vaggie before shifting her eyes back to Cain. "Did he force you too?"
"What do you think, C.M?" Cain puffed some smoke before dropping the cigarette, coming closer to Charlie. "He barged into my mansion in Eight Ring and demanded me follow him here... I fucking wanted to play my guitar today."
"He has his ways, I guess..."
"He is a dickhead, Charlie." He corrected her, causing Charlie to smirk.
"True, I suppose..." Charlie could only agree. With a sigh, she came closer and embraced Cain in a tight hug. "So great to see you, cousin."
"You too, Rosy Cheeks." Cain returned the hug immediately, even smiling weakly before releasing her but still having his arm around her shoulder. "I won't lie, C. You look like shit since I last saw you."
"You too look like shit, Cain." Charlie laughed and smiled.
"Runs in the family..." Cain patted her before moving his arm from Charlie's shoulder and crossing them, giving a glance at Vaggie and Alastor.
Vaggie felt slightly disturbed by how Cain looked at them. With Alastor, his typical wide grin always felt uncanny. But with Cain... it's as if he stares through you and is ready to kill you the moment he notices... even if he doesn't show it.
"You got us disadvantaged here, sweet Charlie. Could you be so kind as to introduce your cousin to us?" Alastor asked as his eyes narrowed in amusement, his head cocking to the side as he studied Charlie's cousin.
"Oh, right. Silly me." Charlie slapped her forehead. "Vaggie, Al. This is my close cousin, Cain Magne. Cain, this is my girlfriend Vaggie and... Alastor."
"Wait a minute... you don't mean “that” Cain, Charlie!" Vaggie inquired, taken aback by what she had just heard.
"Don't use that tone with me, mothy. I know your whole fiasco with my father, before. Why do you think that the story of one brother striking the other with a rock is not real?" Cain snarled at Vaggie, almost hostilely.
"And you...are not pissed off that we...you know." Vaggie eerily said.
For that, Cain removed his sunglasses, tilted his head a bit, and asked her this.
"What part of my face says I give a shit about my dad's death, sinner?"
"...There is none."
"Exactly." Cain brought back his sunglasses before crossing his arms. "So yeah...hope you're happy to see the First-Fucking Murderer in front of you, mothy girl."
"And your reputation precedes you to this day, Master Cain," Alastor chimed in, offering his hand for a handshake. "It's very delightful to meet you!"
Cain glanced at Alastor's outstretched hand before turning his attention back to him. "And who told you to suck my dick now, radio fuck?"
"Just trying to be friendly, chum," Alastor grinned even more.
"Why don't you get your tail running before you piss me off, little Overlord?" Cain dared.
"Cain, it's a radio demon." Charlie spoke quietly, cautioning him not to provoke the menace of Pentagram City. Cain, on the other hand, only looked back at the Radio Demon, examining him from every angle. He smirked in a low tone that would make a normal vampire demon shiver at their Dark Father's smirking.
"So... apparently, you're that little bitch who got wacky in the '30s, huh? Tell me...friend." Cain made a few steps closer to Alastor, trying to provoke him. "Should I be impressed by your stunt?"
"I'm not here to impress anyone, Master Cain," Alastor smiled neutrally. "I seek only entertainment on these mundane days."
"My fist to your face won't be entertaining to you?" Cain smiled devilishly.
"Not really. My old days of carnage are not of interest to me today, friend."
"This little shit thinks he's tough..." Cain smirked once more in response to Alastor's remark. "I saw many Overlords come and go over and over again. Of course, there will come a time when some weirdo with extremely powerful abilities will depose of the rest of the Overlords... only to be defeated by an even stronger Overlord who will take their place. So, tell me, Little Overlord...what makes you special?"
Despite Cain noticing him clear his throat nervously, Alastor could only smile even more. Even behind that façade of a never-ending smile...there are always some cracks here and there.
"Most Overlords tend to rush forward to their conflicts, Master Cain. I prefer a smart direction."
"It makes no difference... you'll all slip eventually." Cain crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face. "Or Lucifer might get tired of you. And when it happens... well, let's just say you're very lucky, because not every Overlord gets to see me... most of the time, I'm the last thing they see in their pitiful existence. So, remember, Seth's descendant... Lucifer only needs to say one word... and I'll come for you, sooner or later."
And to add one last grain of salt to the wound, Cain patted Alastor's shoulder in a "friendly" manner, obviously knowing he doesn't like it when someone touches him.
"Then let us hope it won't come to this." Alastor simply responded. A faint static played near them as Alastor stared at Cain...it's very hard to see his true expression from his smile. But it's obvious from Charlie and even Vaggie that he took it seriously.
"For you , that is..." Cain finished with a mark before directing his attention to Charlie. "So, Charlie. You don't mind if I practice with my guitar in your hotel for an upcoming concert?"
"As long as you don't murder my tenants and staff, Cain." Charlie warned in a silly tone.
"No promises, C.M...First Murderer's honor." Cain approached her with a childlike grin.
"Show off, bloodsucker." Charlie pushed him away in a playful manner. The First Murderer gave her a middle finger before his body poofed into a single dark bat, flapping its wings to the nearest open window in the Hotel.
"What a charming fella!" Alastor beamed in, very happy to make acquaintances with the Legend of Hell.
"Yeah, right..." Vaggie sighed, not enjoying meeting a biblical person...getting enough of that. She would then confront. "Are you sure it's wise to have him here, hon? I'm mean; don't get me wrong. I don't have a full picture of him, as I'm familiar with Cain through the Genesis Bible... and what was described about him... is not pretty."
"I know him very well, Vags. It's not like he has a choice... when my father threatens someone to do his bidding... he means it." Charlie shrugged at that before crossing her arms. "You saw him today already..."
Charlie released another dreadful breath, just wanting to go up to her room and have a good cry...
"Cheer up, my dear!” Alastor smiled, throwing an arm around her shoulders and yanking her close. “No need to make such a face! Why, these little family spats are the highlights of everyone's life!”
“I’m so happy we could entertain you, Al.” Charlie deadpanned flatly.
“And that’s the spirit!” Alastor grinned, clapping her back cheerfully. “Of course, now that you and your glorious dad have scarpered, I suppose we'll need some new entertainment for all of us..."
"No! I'm not giving up on the Hazbin Hotel!" Charlie snapped sincerely, causing Alastor to tilt his head a bit. "Dad may put up roadblocks for us, but I believe we can do it."
"Which is why I'm concerned about it, hon..." Vaggie interjected, wanting to ask Charlie as she is quite knowledgeable when it comes to Inferno's laws and social norms. "First off, I want to know. What did your father mean by "royal property"?
"It means that the building doesn't abide by the "tax laws" of Greed Ring, Vaggie. I don't need to pay rent as the owner-"
"Co-owner" Alastor snapped with a cheerful tone.
"...Co-owner of this Hotel." Charlie played Alastor's narrative, deadpanning again at the Radio Demon before returning to Vaggie. She should take another pause, shaking her head in defeat. "But because Dad made it private property, we'll have to pay our rent to the Inferno's treasury."
"And what happens if we can't?"
"Then we must declare bankruptcy before Uncle Mammon will take "temporary" ownership from us. The rest depends on my Dad. He can either take it over or sell it to someone else."
"Thus, his majesty wins anyway!" Alastor chuckled, admiring how Lucifer got him this time.
"Pretty much..." Charlie had to reluctantly agree with that.
"Not to worry, my dear! Hell’s full of desperate lowlifes; I’m sure I can find one or two foolish enough to actually buy into this farce hotel!”
"How fucking dare you-" Vaggie was about to complain at Alastor, only to be stopped by Charlie's palm.
"No, Vaggie. He is right..." Charlie muttered slowly. "For five years, we have been open to the public, and so far we have had only what: 4 everyday tenants and at least 21 who came and went. With Rosie's support and Mimzy's donation and us being the Royal Property, we prospered....but now as we have to pay the bills...I'm not so sure."
"The only thing that comes to mind as a solution is..." Vaggie paused for a moment, not wanting to say it, but she must. "We probably will have to switch from the "rent per month" to the "rent per week" model...But I'm sure that Crymini and Angel won't be happy about it."
Charlie didn't answer at first, deep in her thoughts. She crossed her arms back and forth, thinking it through. Alastor's gaze trailed her like a hunter stalking his prey, metaphorically speaking. Charlie's mind raced as she tried to come up with a solution. Suddenly, an idea struck her.
"I have a plan!" Charlie broke the silence. "Let us not fall into a pit of despair for now. Maybe the rent won't be so bad... but I'll have to confront it. Vaggie, Al. Meet me in our mutual office, okay?"
"What are you planning, hon?" Vaggie asked, concerned. Even Alastor's grin widens with full-on interest.
"Very simple thing, Vaggie." Charlie spoke slowly.
"I'm going to make a call to Uncle Mammon."
Chapter 23: That's The Way It Is, Charlie...
Summary:
"He was despised and rejected by men, a man of deep sorrows who was no stranger to suffering and grief. We hid our faces from him in disgust and considered him a nobody, not worthy of respect." - Isaiah 53:3
Chapter Text
September 21, 2025, AD (102 Days Before the Next Purge), 8:34 AM.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City/The Hazbin Hotel (Happy Hotel)
*Tick Tock*
*Tick Tock*
*Tick Tock*
The tick-tocking of the clock on the wall broke the great awkward silence here in the main office of the Hotel. It was supposed to be a moment of relaxation, a moment of composure, but the tick-tocking of the clock on the wall didn't help. She tried to ignore it, but the more she tried, the louder it seemed to get.
Charlie sat in her office chair, staring blankly at the table phone. Both Vaggie and Alastor were also there, with the Moth Demon observing her girlfriend as she tried to gain confidence to call The Deadly Sin. The only one who is having a great time is Alastor...who is vibing, to say the least. For every tick sound, the Radio Demon bobbed his head left and right for every tock in the rhythm of the clock.
The Hotel had been in worse situations before. The constant conflict with the Vees and Mr. Henroin harmed the Hotel's success for 5 years. But now that Charlie's father has stripped them of her "royal" privileges, things could get even worse... and Charlie couldn't believe it.
Even now, Lucifer's words about redemption replayed in her head, as if her own psyche were trying to persuade her. She tried to stay positive, but it was becoming harder and harder. Charlie knew that something had to be done. She couldn't just stand by and watch as everything crumbled around her. And so it leaves her to this...a call to Mammon.
The Seven Deadly Sin of Greed: Mammon is something you would consider the "Big Oil Sugar Daddy" of Inferno. The Greed Ring is his massive corporate playground for all of Hell's major corporations. If you're the CEO of some company in Hell, it was mandatory to have a department in Greed Ring to be considered in the "Major Leagues" category of companies, such as Abstergo, Hyperion, Umbrella, Millitech, CEC and...EA. But despite this, Greed Ring, or rather the "Greatly Expensive Extortion Directorate" or "G.R.E.E.D" Corporation, remains a top dog.
Mammon also owned ALL the banks with the accounting offices, and he is the one who is in charge of the tax system, not to mention that he (under Astaroth's supervision) is the one who is responsible for Inferno's treasury being fully filled, not to mention all the other sorts of financial institutions featured in Hell's chaotic bureaucracy. Every time the water or electricity bills came, it had his sigil stamped on it....so in a way, the King of Greed controls all that has "financial" in its name.
Now, dealing with Mammon if you're below his level in terms of power is like dealing with Conman, who you already know will scam you and who doesn't hide it. But Charlie hopes that by being a princess and the daughter of Mammon's ruler, she could have leverage with him. Thankfully, the only thing she really needs from Mammon is for him to value the Hazbin Hotel property. If Charlie is lucky, there is a chance that her hotel doesn't have any value whatsoever, and thus she doesn't need to pay a huge amount of rental tax.
"There goes nothing..." Charlie took a deep breath and finally picked up the phone, dialing the number for The Deadly Sin. Her heart was racing, and her palms were sweaty, but she tried to stay composed as the phone rang.
*Dial up*
...
*Dial up*
(^--- Don't click this if you don't want to die from Cringe. I MEAN IT!)
"Sweet dolphins!" Charlie yanked her phone away from her ear because the sound effect was so loud.
"Honk-honk, bitches! How G.R.E.E.D can help you! For today's motto company, "Greed is all you need!" A very energetic voice sounded from the other side of the call. Charlie slightly cringed at that. The Clown Demons of Greed are known to be very...joke outdated...not to mention annoying for no reason.
"Yeah, I...would like to speak with your boss, Mammon, himself. I'm Charlie, Princess of Hell, asking my uncle to speak with me."
"Oh-ho-ho-ho, what nice scam!" The clown laughed at the other side. "But I like your scam, little girl! Directing your call to our bossy boss!"
"...Thanks, I guess." Charlie returned it, not sure if it was a compliment or an insult.
Hell/The Ring Of Greed/Mint City/G.R.E.E.D Corporation (Greatly Expensive Extortion Directorate)'s Main Headquarters
From the moment the first rays of sunlight touched the spires of Mint City, the streets below were alive with activity. Vendors called out from their stalls, offering fresh produce and handmade crafts to passersby. Cars and carriages jostled for position on the busy thoroughfares, while clown demons hurried along the sidewalks, heads down and focused on their destinations. And there was money to be made no matter where you went.
The Greed Ring was a sprawling, chaotic mess of businesses, with towering smokestacks belching out clouds of black smoke that hung heavy in the air. The streets were a maze of identical storefronts with flashy neon signs, each one competing for attention with the next. The roar of machinery and traffic was a constant hum, drowning out all other sounds.
Despite its shabby appearance, the Greed Ring was a powerhouse of innovation, having pioneered in every other ring (minus the Ninth Ring). Massive corporations with factories and businesses everywhere flowed with profitable ideas, blessed by Greed's "blood"-soaked ground. Plagiarism and unoriginality were considered huge moneymakers, while any new initiatives were deemed too much of a risk to put stock in. Everything was broken, and the usage was to repair things every now and then so they didn't break and cause lawsuits, but not nearly enough to conceal the general state of disrepair.
The Demons, particularly the Imps, who lived and worked in the Greed Ring were a diverse bunch, each with their own set of struggles and dreams. The tired faces of imp factory workers trudged to and from work, while slick-suited corporate demonic clown executives darted from meeting to meeting. Scrappy entrepreneurs tried to carve out a niche in a crowded marketplace, each one vying for a piece of the pie.
Demons in the Greed Ring were constantly trying to outmaneuver each other, always looking for the next big opportunity. Ostentatious displays of wealth were the norm, with flashy cars and ostentatious mansions used to show off success. The culture of the Greed Ring was one of ruthless pragmatism, where anything goes as long as it makes a profit. And there is no better example than King-Ceo Mammon himself.
At the very center of Mint City, rising above the skyline, stood the golden tower with Mammon's symbol and the corporation's name emblazoned at its top. The Tower was a monument to greed and excess, a symbol of the power that the Corporation wielded over the Greed below. The Corporation's name, written in bold block letters, commanded attention and respect, reminding all who saw it of the Corporation's dominance over the city.
But the Tower was more than just a monument to the corporation's power. Its massive influence choked the city below, controlling the economy and shaping the lives of those who lived and worked there. The Demons of Mint City felt the "G.R.E.E.D" Corporation's influence in every aspect of their lives. Some saw it as a beacon of opportunity, a chance to rise above their humble origins and achieve great things. But for others, the corporation's power felt suffocating, a constant pressure to make money at any cost.
At the very top of the Tower, accessible only by a private elevator, lies Mammon's own CEO office. It was a spacious, luxurious suite that every owner of a company aspired to possess. The walls were adorned with gilded frames and intricate artwork, while plush carpets cushioned the steps of anyone who entered. The ceiling was high, providing a sense of grandeur and majesty that befitted the office of the most powerful individual in the city.
The desk was a mammoth piece of polished wood, so large that it seemed to swallow up the King sitting behind it. The chair was plush and comfortable, with intricate embroidery on the backrest, and a control panel built into the armrests. Behind the desk stood a vast, panoramic window, offering a breathtaking view of the entire city below. It was an impressive sight, a testament to Mammon's power and influence over Mint City.
But the office was more than just a symbol of wealth and power. It was the nerve center of the corporation's operations, where all the most important decisions were made. The CEO's desk was littered with reports, financial statements, and projections, all of which informed the corporation's strategy for the future. A team of assistants and advisors buzzed around the office, ensuring that the CEO was always up-to-date on the latest developments and trends.
"COME ON, BABY. JUST PUSH IT! COME OOOON! UP-UP, I SAY!"
Mammon was currently jumping on his office chair like a child. He fixed his gaze on the "Stock" projection on the wall, which displayed the stock value of "G.R.E.E.D." as 999.999.999.999.999 souls. This was a special day, as he was about to hit the new mark for the Greed Ring.
"YOU STUPID INVESTORS! COME ON! STONKS-STONKS-STONKS!" Mammon chanted, clenching his fists together.
And as if his old daddy blessed his son in this moment, the green line on the stock price began to rise up.
"YES! YEEES!"
And then it drops back down, making a sharp descent. Mammon's face twisted in frustration as the stock price plummeted in front of him.
"NOOOOO, FUCKING CAPITALISM!"
He slammed his fist onto the desk, causing a stack of papers to scatter across the polished wood. The King of Greed made himself collapse against his office chair. He grabbed one soul bill and wrapped it with some weed, lighting it up and smoking in the joy. He inhaled the smoke, feeling an enjoyable sigh of relief.
"Ah... I love the smell of profits in the morning!"
Unfortunately for him, he could not have his free time any longer when a female clown demon, in her typical clown jester attire (and some balloons under her clothes, as to fake she has massive tits), who is Mammon's personal secretary, rushed into his room.
"My Gold, we report a decrease in your stock price of 0.000001%. Shall we lay off 10% of our worker force?"
"Absolutely, my joker-pie! Money won't go; workers will go instead!"
"Yes, my money!" Secretary bowed to her before hurrying back to her never-ending work.
*Phone Ringing*
Annoyed, Mammon slammed his hand on the phone before grabbing it and bringing it to his ear.
"WHAT!?"
*expressed concern*
"I don't give a damn about your problems, Nute Gunray! I want the Trade Federation's 100,000 clown droids to the Ring of Limbo by the end of this month! I'm getting paid for my participation in Ars Colonia's conflict against insurgent forces, and I want to capitalize on that. If you can't give me your forces, I'm going to bankrupt your company so much that you will have to declare default 10 times a week to pay the damages! Obey me, you cunt!"
Mammon then slammed his phone on the table, ending the call, before rubbing his face. "Oh, Fatherdamm, these fucking peasant bitches!"
"Um, my gold?" His "oversexualized" secretary appeared again, holding her balloons so they would not fall off... After all, corporate behavior is a thing.
"WHAT NOW!?" Mammon shouted in rage, clearly not appreciating her bothering King-Ceo.
"Someone wants to speak directly with you. Apparently it's..." The secretary then double-checks the notes to ensure they are correct. "Charlie: Princess of Hell..."
Mammon blinks two times at that. His secretary returned his glance with a blink. "Who the fuck is Charlie?!"
"Your boss's daughter, my gold."
"...Since when have I had a boss?"
"That would be Lucifer, sir. The one who demanded to change the property status on one of Pentagram City's buildings a few minutes ago?"
"Ah, him." Mammon finally realized. "Yeah, I forgot about him...alright then."
Mammon pushed a button that directed the call to him, bringing the phone to where his ear was supposed to be in this "Christmas tree" outfit of his.
"Hello?" Mammon's voice can be heard on Charlie's phone. Charlie almost perked up, but she kept her cool and composed herself. She needs to be professional when it comes to Mammon.
"Um...Hello, Uncle Mammon. It's me, Charlie. I'm not sure if you remember me..."
"Ah, my little Charles! How could I ever forget you!"
"It's Charlie, Uncle."
"Whatever! Names are not trademarked anyway!" Mammon chimed in. Vaggie shook her head...Charlie might have the worst uncles out there; that's how it seems to be. "But excuse me if I sound rude to you, but I'm very-very busy Deadly Sin. So what do you need?"
"Yeah...the thing is: You probably already know that my dad called you about one property in Pentagram City that needs to be switched to private property. Could you please give me an overview of the value of that?"
"And why are you so interested in that?"
"Well...it so happens that now I own "private" property instead of royal property. I need to evaluate it to see the risks before I can make a steady income. That way, I will be able to sell my shares so that you and I may profit from it."
"Charlie, what the fuck are you-" Vaggie wanted to object.
Charlie quickly showed her finger to Vaggie and made the sign that it was just an act on Princess's part. Since Charlie is Mammon's niece, she knows him quite enough to see the cracks in her uncle.
"Oh-ho-ho!" Mammon laughed, impressed, and it seems that he bought into it...could swear there was a "Cha-Ching" noise from Mammon's side. "You know what? I'm feelin' generous this morning. Alright then, my pumpkin. Let me see the details."
Mammon then blocked the phone tubes before pushing a button on his intercom. "Listen everyone, my bitches! Someone bring me paper details about a property called "Happy Hotel". If someone does not bring it to me within the next minute, you will all be fired!"
True to his word, Melchom, who handles the taxes for the entire Hell, would rush inside with a paper report on the Happy Hotel. Mammon snatched the report and motioned for Melchom to get lost.
As soon as Mammon opened the file report, he closed his mouth so as to block his laugh in order for Charles not to hear it.
"Talk about some Ponzi Scheme here..." He composed himself before bringing his phone back to his ear. "Well-well, I'm sure you're quite eager to hear it, my dear."
"Yes, I am." Charlie nodded, trying to maintain a serious tone.
Mammon chuckled again. "Well, my pumpkin, I have to say that this property you own is not exactly what you would call a massive conglomerate. Your stock price is zero percent, and the value is less than 5,000 souls."
"I see..." Charlie responded, albeit not surprised. Happy Hotel has always been about her ideas, not her business. "And what about the property rent?"
"Property rent is based on the property value. "More success, more money you pay" as we say in Greed Ring. Based on the facts that your Hotel doesn't have any value to Inferno's market, your stock price is zero, and you're barely known as a whole. That would be around 1031 souls per month, plus the electricity bill."
Charlie sighed in relief. She won't lie; the amount was lower than she expected, but at least it's manageable. "I understand. Thank you for your -"
"Aint you forgetting something, my dear?" Mammon interrupted, a sly tone in his voice. "Something, something, "privatization debt," hmm?"
Charlie furrowed her brows in confusion. "What do you mean, Uncle?"
Mammon chuckled. "Well, you see, pumpkin. The laws of my...I mean our kingdom dictate that royal properties belonging to the Seven Deadly are "tax exempt." But what happens when they get privatized? They start to pay taxes...and of course they need to pay off the debt..."
"W-what debt?" Charlie's voice cracked in fear.
"Well..." Mammon smirked as he brought the report to check something. "It says that the hotel has been operating for five years. "Now, would you be so kind as to show your math skills to your Uncle?"
Charlie counted in her mind. So if rent is 1031 souls per month, which is 12,372 for the entire year...that means it's 61,860 souls. And that's without additional bills like electricity or water. And that will be around...
"150,931 Souls...oh, no." Charlie whispered in horror.
"Oh, yes, my pumpkin...not to mention how you must pay debt in the next month, starting today."
"W-w-WHAT!!!" Charlie exclaimed.
Mammon smirked, enjoying the effect his words had on Charlie. "Yes, my dear. The debt you owe to the Inferno for the royal privilege of owning this property is quite substantial. And if you fail to pay, well...let's just say the consequences won't be pleasant."
Charlie felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew that running the Happy Hotel wouldn't be easy, but she hadn't anticipated this .
"Uncle Mammon, please, is there any way we can negotiate? I don't have that kind of money to pay. This is absurd on so many levels!"
"Ha, of course it's absurd! I must somehow squezin' everything, my dear. What's the point if I'm Lord of Greed and I'm not extorting my subjects?!" Mammon then leaned back in his chair, considering her request. "Well, there might be a way. You see, I could offer you a loan, with an interest rate, of course. And in exchange, you would have to agree to certain conditions."
Of course...extortion.
Charlie had heard enough horror stories about deals made with Mammon to be wary of any offer that sounded too good to be true.
"I'm not interested in any of your loans, Uncle!" she told him firmly.
"Aww, what a shame, really...but I win regardless. If you don't pay off the debt, I will get your property with ease. If you do somehow pay your debt, I still get your money anyway. I wish you good luck with paying off your debt...have fun!"
With that, Mammon ended the call, leaving Charlie feeling overwhelmed and baffled as she stared at her phone in disbelief. She knew that the Happy Hotel didn't generate much income and relied on donations from Mimzy and Rosie, but she never thought it would come to this. She couldn't afford to pay off such a huge debt, and she couldn't risk losing the hotel either.
"Hon, I-" Vaggie began, trying to comfort Charlie.
"It's not over for us, Vaggie!" Charlie interrupted, showing her palms in protest but quickly lowering her voice as she didn't mean to scream at Vaggie. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. Charlie couldn't let Mammon get the best of her. She had to come up with a plan, and fast. "I-I mean, this is not over. We will pay off the debt; I know we can!"
Alastor had remained silent throughout the conversation, but now he made a very low chuckle.
"What's so funny, chucklefuck?" Vaggie hissed at him. Alastor arched an eyebrow and grinned. He looked from Vaggie to Charlie's stressed-out expression and then back to Vaggie.
"Why, it's so entertaining, my dear. A new day of watching the hopes and dreams of everyone around me slowly crumble is a day worth being cheerful over!"
"You fucking asshole!" Vaggie retorted angrily.
"Enough! This is not the time for arguing. We need to figure out how to pay off this debt." Charlie stepped in, not wanting them to argue because she already has too many plates on her shoulder.
"And how are you going to do that, my dear?" Alastor mockingly chuckled. "No family support, indebted, and no income by a mile! You remind me of myself in my youth...ah, what a wonderful time it was!"
Charlie's anxiety increased as she listened to Alastor's teasing, but she refused to let it get the best of her.
"We'll figure something out," she replied firmly. "For these past five years, we've faced tough situations before, and we've always come out on top."
"She's right , Alastor." Vaggie nodded in agreement. Yet, Alastor's grin still remained as he slowly turned his head back to Charlie.
"Hell's roads are paved with good intentions, my dear Charlie. It would be very unfortunate if yours were added."
"And I have enough of your mocking games, Al!" Charlie waved him off dismissively, seeing that he wouldn't help out. "Come on, Vaggie. Let's talk with Mimzy first."
Vaggie nodded and followed Charlie out of the room, leaving Alastor to his own devices. As she left the office, Charlie's mind raced as she thought about possible solutions to their problem. She knew they needed to come up with something quickly, but her mind was drawing a blank.
Together with the Moth demon, Charlie headed to their barroom, where Husk and sometimes Mimzy could usually be found. Their patron tends to be very "gluttonous" if she is hungry, so she was likely to be there.
Ironically, Mimzy wasn't sitting on a bar stool but rather on a couch, with Cain nearby practicing his guitar playing, completely trying to ignore Mimzy's million questions.
"So, what was it like walking in the Land of Nod, Mister Cain?" Mimzy asked, her "Catholic school" education making her more curious about the biblical characters.
"Like a long walk on a scorching day in the desert," Cain replied, very busy with his guitar.
"How did you sire Enoch if Awan was your sister? Isn't it incest by definition?" Mimzy persisted.
"Fucking sinners," Cain grumbled, trying to keep up with the notes. "Enoch wasn't my son, doll. He was my "kindred son," and Awan remained with my parents until the end. And it's not like incest was a big deal back then... tell your Queen Lilith about this."
"So, you built the first city? What was it like?" Mimzy asked.
Cain finally stopped playing his guitar, turned his head slowly towards her, and gave her an eerie glance. "How about you don't bother the First Murderer and kindly go to the Land of Nod by yourself?"
"And where is the Land of Nod, exactly?" Mimzy asked innocently.
"Fucking Australia of all places, probably! I don't fucking know, okay?! Just stop bothering me already!" Cain complained before noticing that Charlie was here. "Hey, C.M. Can I just kill this fucking sinner!?"
"No, Cain! No killings in my Hotel!" Charlie quickly intervened. The last thing she needed right now was Mimzy's double death.
"Men these days. Why are some questions so hard to answer?" Mimzy scowled. "It's not like I see the source of my reason for being here every day."
"So you blame me for you being in Hell?" Cain hissed at her.
"She is technically right, Mister Cain," Vaggie interjected.
"I haven't done shit to any of you, Mothy. How about you stop blaming me for all your modern-day problems and be fucking smart at least once in your everyday existence?" Cain retorted.
"That's quite harsh, Cain," Charlie had to stand on Vaggie's side.
"No shit, Charlie. Existence is a bitch. Some mighty beings wanted to play Gods, and we're all suffering down here because of them." Cain grimaced, returning to playing his guitar.
Charlie took a deep breath, not wanting to argue with her cousin. She has enough of that from Alastor. Hence, she immediately turned her attention to the Starlet.
"Mimzy, can you have a minute?" Charlie asked.
"Sure, I was planning to leave this place anyway." Mimzy turned her attention to Charlie. Cain, on the other hand, continued playing his guitar, lost in his own thoughts. She then stood up from the couch, wiping her little dress. "What can I help you with, doll?"
Charlie took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "We have a little problem, and we need your help. Do you think you could spare even more money for us...just an act of friendship?"
Mimzy chuckled, her eyes glinting mischievously. "I know I'm everyone's favorite starlet of Pentagram City, but I'm not that successful, Charlie. I do want to survive in the Hellhole, which is this city."
"But-"
"Miss Charlie, please." Mimzy showed her palms as if to listen to her. "Look, I know I was obnoxious when I first came here..."
"That's understatement..." Husk mumbled, busy taking a swig of another beer bottle.
"And you saved me from being lynched by my fans back. I'm truly grateful for both of you, but I can't donate or invest even more. I'm not rich, but I will continue to support your hotel any way I can...just as we agreed."
"I understand, Mimzy." Charlie nodded with defeat. "Just know we still appreciate everything you've done for us so far."
Mimzy smiled. "Thanks, doll. But I'm sure you will find a solution to your financial problem. Until next time, dolls. Ta-ta!"
With that, Mimzy left the hotel, leaving the group in silence for a moment.
"Well, that was...disappointing," Vaggie said, breaking the silence.
“Correction: that could have gone better!”
And of course, Alastor was already here, hands on Charlie's shoulder.
"Aw, look. Little Overlord himself came to his playground!" Cain mocked between his notes.
"Charming as usual, Master Cain!" Alastor bowed his head like a dancer before turning his attention to the star of the show. "Hope you're having a pleasant time, Charlie. How did it go with everyone's favorite damsel in distress?"
Charlie sighed, feeling the weight of their financial problems pressing down on her. "Mimzy couldn't help us with any more funds, unfortunately."
Alastor's smile increased even more. "How wonderful! But I'm sure you will find a way to make things work."
Husk let out a scoff, "Easy for you to say, Mr. Radio Demon."
Alastor's eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained his polite smile. "Oh, I assure you, Husker. I understand the importance of finances. However, I have faith in Charlie's abilities to overcome this obstacle."
"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine, Little Overlord." Cain rolled his eyes
Ignoring Cain's comment, Alastor turned his attention back to Charlie. "But Charlie, have you wondered perhaps it's time to consider new opportunities for entertainment?"
"NO!" Charlie made a sharp turn back to the Radio Demon. She even pressed her finger against Alastor's bowtie; his smile slightly lowered in discomfort. "We're not going to compromise our values."
"Then enlighten me. How are you going to solve the financial problem? Money doesn't grow on trees.."
"I...what about Rosie? Maybe we can alter our deal-"
"Ha, very clever, but no..." Alastor interjected.
"What do you mean, no?!"
"It's simple, my friend; Rosie will not change the deal any further. Your own dad instructed her a few days ago, sweetie."
"...So you knew this from the start but didn't tell us anything!?" Vaggie again confronted Alastor, not believing this type of treachery.
"Why would I? It would have been less fun that way!"
"You are fucking sleesy ass treacherous little sh-"
"Stop!" Charlie interjected...and again she needs some silence for herself. "Okay, maybe Rosie or Mimzy's help won't solve this, but I'm sure we can think of something."
"Like what, my dear Charlie?" Alastor grinned mockingly again.
"I don't know, Al!" Charlie snapped a bit at him, but Radio Demon was completely unfazed a bit. "I thought it would be a normal day, but Dad pushed me into a mess!"
Charlie then covered her face with her own hands, frustrated. She let out a long sigh, her shoulders drooping with exhaustion. She had been trying to keep everything together for so long that it felt like the weight of hell was crushing her. She had been fighting tooth and nail to turn the Happy Hotel around, to show her father that demons could change and that redemption was possible. But it seemed like no matter how hard she tried, obstacles kept getting in her way.
"I'm just so tired," she muttered, her voice muffled by her hands. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."
Alastor's expression softened a bit as he looked at Charlie. But, in the end, he said nothing...no comfort, no mockery, just nothing.
Charlie uncovered her face. She took a deep breath and looked at her friends, her resolve returning. "Okay....at least on the plus side, I don't think things are going to get any worse for us."
*Ding Dong*
"You had to jinx it, don't you, my cousin?" Cain smirked at that.
*Ding Dong*
Charlie let out a frustrated groan. She stood up from her seat and made her way to the entrance of the Happy Hotel, with Vaggie and Alastor following close behind her.
The Princess of Hell opened the door to find a Sinner Mailman, holding a small package in his hands. The mailman stepped forward, a fake smile on his face.
"Courier Six of Helluva Post, here to deliver the package to Miss Morningstar of...." Courier checks the note for a second. "Heir of Imperium of Inferno?? I have no fucking clue what that means."
"Package?" Charlie raised an eyebrow, skeptical. She had heard of Helluva Post before, but she had never used their services. She then turned around to see Vaggie and Alastor. The moth demon shrugged in response, while Alastor wiggled his brows. Something tells Charlie it's either Alastor or... someone else fucking with her. But she decided to give the benefit of the doubt.
"Alright then, let's see it."
"Just sign here." He handed a note to her. Charlie signed her name and returned it back to the Mailman as he handed over the package, "Have a fuckable day!"
The Sinner Courier saluted before rushing back to his mail van, pulling out his revolver, and screaming someone's name, "Benny". Charlie shook her head at the strange behavior of the Sinner Mailman before turning her attention back to the package. She examined it closely, looking for any indication of where it might be from. But there was nothing, but a small tag with her name on it.
Charlie closed the doors and went back to the bar room. Even Husk raised an eyebrow at the sudden package from.
"Did Sinsmas come early?" Cain smirked at that adorable sight...seems someone appreciates Charlie after all.
Charlie rolled her eyes at Cain's comment. "I highly doubt it, But who knows..."
She carefully opened the package to find a letter...
"Letter?" Charlie again repeated herself. And once she turned around the letter, Vaggie was the first to realize it.
"That's a letter from Heaven, Charlie..." Vaggie muttered. Charlie's eyes widened in surprise at Vaggie's words.
"From Heaven?" she repeated in disbelief, looking down at the letter in her hands. Even Alastor leaned in to take a closer look.
"And how the fuck do YOU know it's from Heaven, Mothy?" Cain added...little bit of suspicion.
"Look at the symbols, since when Hell allowed the Abrahamic symbols on their domain?" Vaggie shot Cain a glare as she spoke firmly.
Cain raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I was just asking," he said with a small grin.
Charlie stared at the cover of the letter before looking into Vaggie's eyes.
"You think...It's Sera and Emily?" Charlie asked her. But as soon as she said that, it finally hit her. "Maybe it's about redemption!"
"Well, open it then, my dear!" Alastor chimed in! Oh, it's about to start...
Charlie took a deep breath and carefully opened the letter. Inside, there was a single sheet of paper with a message written in elegant handwriting.
Your Majesty Lucifera Morningstar: Daughter of Helel Lucifer Morningstar and Heir to the Throne of Inferno.
"I must confess that it is somewhat surprising to receive news from the depths of Hell expressing a desire to redeem sinners. Your compassion is commendable, and it is heartening to see that there are those in your realm who seek the path of righteousness.
"Both Seraphim Sera and Seraphim Emily expressed their surprise to me that you wish to seek redemption for your own subjects. When it comes to your kind, they tend to express full-on xenophobia, racism and blatant hatred based on our wings. Not to mention they often seek to destroy us by any means necessary."
"And here I am afraid that I must decline your plea to redeem the sinners."
"We sent your plea to the Archangels and the Heavenly Council (That's our legislative body). Although we witnessed some support to your wishes, we still heard a lot of negative arguments against you, especially by Azrael, who was very vocal to your "Meddling in Heaven's Affairs"
"As the Voice of God and a representative of the Heavenly Covenant, my duties require me to maintain a strong stance between us and the realms of Hell, Earth and Purgatory. While your intentions are noble, the hostile relations between our realms prevent us from interfering in the affairs of Hell, as it could be seen as a breach of our "Acheron Accord".
"I have faith that you will continue to do what is right and just. Perhaps someday the hostility between our realms will dissipate, and we can work together towards a common goal of salvation for all. Until then, Archangel Azrael's Exorcists shall handle the "overpopulation" problem in your Hell."
"May God's grace be with you."
Sincerely,
Metatron, the Voice of God
...
It's over...
As Charlie read the letter, her heart sank deeper and deeper with each passing moment. She felt like her entire world was collapsing in on her. Her eyes began to fill with tears, and she couldn't help but let out a soft sob. It's truly over...
Both Vaggie and Husk looked at her in concern, realizing how much this must have affected her. They had never seen her so distraught before.
"Here we go again..." Cain whispered to himself...knowing where it's going.
"Charlie?" Vaggie asked, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Charlie couldn't answer. She felt like she was in a dream—a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from. The idea of redemption had given her hope for her people, but now that hope was dashed, and she felt lost and alone.
And Alastor...Alastor just shrugged at that.
"Oh, Charlie. Your father said it already, and I don't need to repeat my king's word. Do you really think it would be that easy?"
No response came from her. Charlie didn't know if she had the strength to keep going. The rejection from Heaven had shattered her faith in everything she believed in. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of Envy, and she didn't know if she could swim to the surface.
"Just...why?" Charlie's entire psyche felt like it was being snapped.
"Because it's Hell, my dear. We're all damned for eternity. That's the way it is..."
"That's the way it is"
Charlie finally dropped the letter. She buried her face in her hands and let out a gut-wrenching cry. Vaggie immediately wrapped her arms around her, trying to offer whatever comfort she could.
Alastor simply looked on, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He had never been one for sentimentality, but even he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at seeing Charlie so broken....and yet...so sad.
"All those years..." Charlie continued to sob as the reality of her situation began to sink in. She had dedicated her entire existence to helping the souls of Hell find redemption, but now it seemed that goal was impossible.
All her efforts...
All her hopes and dreams...
They were all for nothing...
"I-I." Charlie sobbed again, gently making Vaggie to stop her hugging. "I...need to be alone, a bit..."
"Charlie, I -"
But it was too late, as Charlie snapped her fingers, teleporting herself from the premise of Hotel. Vaggie and Husk exchanged glances. Husk only shrugged at her; there is nothing he can say about this.
Alastor simply chuckled to himself, amused at the turn of events. "Well, well. Looks like our dearest princess has finally come to terms with the reality of her situation!"
"Don't you have any compassion for Charlie, Alastor!?" Vaggie's rage boiled over. "WHAT TYPE OF MONSTER ARE YOU!?"
Alastor shrugged, grinning at Vaggie. "Compassion is for fools, my dear. We're in Hell, after all. It's survival of the fittest."
"Says the radio bastard who got himself killed by a hunter." Husk snorted.
Alastor's smile nearly faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "Now-now, Husker. I don't appreciate these unfriendly manners."
"And yet Husk is right, shithead! Charlie provided you entertainment for five years, and this is how you repaid her: by laughing at her suffering and hopelessness, not to mention that her own father disowned her?! I would have loved to watch you being disowned by your father!"
Alastor chuckled, leaning his face closer to Vaggie's as the static grew louder.
"Oh, Vaggie. Always so passionate about our Charlie," he said, still grinning. "But you misunderstand me. I'm not laughing at Charlie's suffering. I'm simply amused by her nativity."
"Of course, because you're just so charming and lovable." Vaggie hissed back at him.
Alastor chuckled again. "You flatter me, my dear. But we have more important things to do than argue...Let's leave Charlie alone for now and focus on our own endeavors. After all, we have a Hotel to uphold." He smirked, adjusting his bowtie.
"Wretched asshole..." Vaggie waved him off, storming away from Alastor's view.
"Must be fun, being an asshole to everyone... I start to like you, Little Overlord." Cain added with a smirk.
"You know me: it's just a part of me looking for entertainment!" Alastor simply expressed himself with amusement.
In Radio Demon's mind, there was no point in trying to help Charlie. She was weak and naive, and there was no hope for her. He had accepted the reality of Hell long ago, and he was content to let the others suffer in their delusions.
But deep down, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. What would become of Charlie now that her hopes and dreams had been shattered? Would she continue to fight for redemption, or would she give up and succumb to the darkness of Hell?
Only time would tell...and that's even more entertainment for him!
Hell/The Ring Of Pride/The Pentagram City/Somewhere in the Streets.
Charlie walked through the streets of Pentagram City, her head hung low and her steps heavy with defeat. She had been so sure that she could make a difference, that she could redeem the sinners of Hell and bring them back to the light. But now, after months of trying and failing, she has lost hope.
♪ "The many miles we walked" ♪
♪ "The many things we learned" ♪
♪ The building of a shrine ♪
♪ Only just to burn ♪
Vaggie's voice: " No, I don't think this is going to work. But, I love you, and I want to believe in this place as much as you do. As long as you keep trying, I'll always be by your side, hon. "
Charlie smiled to herself as she remembered the day she had first met Vaggie...a moment that had changed her life forever. There was something about the way the moth demon held herself, the determined look in her eyes, that had drawn Charlie to her. She had felt a connection with Vaggie, a sense of friendship... and Charlie knew that she had a soulmate for life.
Now, as she walked through the bustling streets of Pentagram City, Charlie couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia for those early days. They had been simpler times, times when she still believed that she could change the Hell for the better. But even though Hell had proven to be a harsher and more unforgiving place than she had ever imagined, Charlie still had Vaggie by her side. And as long as they were together, she knew that they could face anything that Hell could throw at them.
But then something amazing happened. Together, they had opened the Happy Hotel, a place where sinners could come and find redemption, where they could start anew and leave their past lives behind...and yet no-one wanted the redemption. Everyone ridiculed and insulted...
♪ May the wind be at your back ♪
♪ Good fortune touch your hand ♪
♪ May the cards lay out a-straight ♪
♪ All from your command ♪
Katie Killjoy's voice: " Good morning, Pride Ring! It's everybody's favorite news anchor, back from physical therapy after the not-so-sweet-and-innocent princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar, nearly broke my neck and caused quite the shitshow right here in the newsroom! This is who's supposed to redeem all of us, folks!
Charlie couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as she thought about the Happy Hotel's image. She had poured her heart and soul into it, believing that it could be the key to unlocking a brighter future for the sinners of Hell.
But now as she walked through the streets, she heard the jeers and insults of the sinners around her, still mocking her for her naïve beliefs in redemption. It was as if they reveled in their own misery, as if they were content to wallow in their own despair...maybe it's truly what Hell really provided...a chaos for them to indulge forever...that's the way it is...
♪ "That's the way it is" ♪
♪ That's the way it is ♪
♪ That's the way it is ♪
♪ That's the way it is ♪
Seviathan's Voice: "You're wasting your time with the parasites who are responsible for their own demise, Charlie! Why can't you see it already!?"
Charlie paused in her tracks as Seviathan's voice echoed in her mind. She had heard those words before, from many Hellborn Demons whom she knew from her Highschool days. They all seemed to believe that Sinners were beyond redemption, that their sins had damned them for eternity.
Charlie refused to believe that...she knew that everyone had the capacity for change, for growth, for redemption. It was just a matter of finding the right path, the right motivation, the right guidance. And that led her to break up with Seviathan...one of the many who she lost contact with...Charlie took a deep breath and continued on her way, ignoring the mocking glances of the sinners around her.
♪ Blue heron leaves the northern sky ♪
♪ It trusts the journey to new heights ♪
♪ What's the meaning of the scar ♪
♪ If we don't learn how to heal? ♪
♪ "Should we ever be apart?" ♪
♪ "Then how does it feel?" ♪
Angel Dust's Voice: "Redemption? Since when did yar types ever cared for us, Charlie?"
As Charlie walked, she noticed an Angle Dust advertisement. She saw what Pentagram City turned Angel into...but deep inside. She knew Angel's scars...she knew that if Angel ever gave up now, if he stopped believing in redemption, then the scar would never heal. She had to keep trying, make Angel push forward, even if it seemed like an impossible task.
Charlie took a deep breath and continued walking, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She knew that the road ahead would be difficult from the start, filled with challenges and setbacks. But she also knew that she couldn't give up. Not now, not ever. And yet...her Dad once more proved how nothing can be changed...And Heaven's rejection put the finale nail into the coffin. There is nothing she can really do...it truly was over ....that's the way it is.
♪ "That's the way it is" ♪
♪ That's the way it is ♪
♪ That's the way it is ♪
♪ That's the way it is ♪
Sera's voice: " There is something about you, Miss Charlotte...you're not like the others. I sense their light in you...that light every angelic being shares...are you're truly the Demon of Hell...or it's just a sign of our Father and Mother?"
"What's the point of all this?" Charlie muttered to herself. "Why am I doing this?"
She had been questioning herself a lot lately, wondering why she was so different from the other demons in Hell. While Demons reveled in chaos and destruction, she only wanted to help redeem the souls of sinners. Charlie couldn't understand why she was the only one who felt this way...was there something wrong with her?
♪ Shine light into darkness ♪
Was she weak for wanting to help others?
♪ Shine light into darkness ♪
Or was it that she was simply naive and didn't fully understand the true nature of Hell?
♪ Shine light into darkness ♪
Charlie sighed, feeling lost and confused. She knew deep down that her desire to help others was genuine, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was what she was meant to do. But at the same time, she couldn't ignore the reality of her situation.
Hell was not a place for redemption,
It was a place for punishment.
That's The Way It Is...
♪⛧ That's the way it is... ⛧♪
♪✝ (I know...) ✝♪
♪⛧ That's the way it is... ⛧♪
♪✝ (So many miles to walk...) ✝♪
♪⛧ That's the way it is... ⛧♪
♪✝ (So many things we've got to learn...) ✝♪
♪⛧ That's the way it is... ⛧♪
♪✝ (You're gonna be made to cry...) ✝♪
♪⛧ That's the way it is... ⛧♪
That's the way it is/ (Don't give up, you don't give it up) 
An End Once and For All...
As Charlie trudged along, consumed by feelings of defeat and hopelessness, she stumbled upon the entrance to Pentagram City's usual park - its name dripping with a bitter irony.
"Park of Hopelessness"
"Even now you mock me, dad." Charlie muttered to herself. Although she isn't sure if her father is observing right now.
But despite the name, Charlie really wanted some peace and quiet for herself...and still need to collect all the emotions she gained from reading the letter. And the park seemed to be peaceful at the moment. Trees rustled in the gentle breeze, birds sang from their perches, and a small "bloody" stream flowed peacefully through the center of the park.
She walked slowly into the park, letting the sights and sounds wash over her. The grass beneath her feet was soft and cool, a welcome relief from the hot pavement of the city streets. As she walked deeper into the park, Charlie noticed a small group of demons gathered around a picnic table. They were laughing and joking, and for a moment, Charlie forgot all of her troubles.
But then a voice broke through her reverie.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the bitch-princess of Hell herself."
Charlie turned to see the same group of Sinner demons looking at her, sneers on their faces.
"Aw, what's the matter? Giving up already on us?" One of them jeered.
Charlie felt a lump form in her throat. She had been trying so hard to make a difference, but it seemed like nothing she did mattered.
"Do whatever the hell you want, you all...I don't care anymore." Charlie, annoyed, growled a bit at them.
The Sinner Group just laughed at that, as if they needed permission from the Princess.
Charlie gritted her teeth, feeling the anger and frustration boiling inside her. She was tired of being mocked and belittled at every turn. As the Sinner demons continued to taunt her, Charlie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She focused on the peaceful sounds of the park, letting them soothe her frayed nerves.
On her way, she would come across a very lonely tree in the park, an apple tree, to be exact. Its branches were drooping with the weight of the young apples, and Charlie couldn't help but smile, reminding her of the old apple trees that Uncle Serpent used to tend back home...home.
"Aren't you a beautiful tree?" She walked over to the tree and ran her hand over the rough bark. For a moment, she forgot about everything else. All she could focus on was the simple beauty of the apple tree.
Charlie reached up and plucked one of the young apples from the tree. She examined it carefully, admiring the bright red color and the smooth surface...not the quality of Dad's but still rather fine quality. They are not edible due to the area around Pentagram City being very poisoned.
*Coo-Coo*
Charlie immediately looked up to see a White Dove, sitting on one of many branches of the apple tree. It watched Charlie attentively with a slightly tilted head...not to mention the white dove is very... alien to Hell's fauna.
To her surprise, the white dove hopped down from the branch and landed on her shoulder. Charlie felt a rush of warmth as the bird nuzzled her cheek, as if comforting her pain.
"You're a friendly one, aren't you?" Charlie whispered softly with a chuckle, stroking the white dove's feathers. As she continued to admire the bird, she couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. It was a small moment of magic, but it was enough to remind her of the beauty that could be found in unexpected places...
And Hope...
For a few moments, Charlie stood there, lost in thought as she watched the dove, and the white dove watched. It was a simple moment, but it felt like a moment of clarity. But then suddenly, the White Dove made a sharp turn with his head before flapping his wings and flying away.
"Where are you going, little guy?!" Charlie called out, but the dove was already soaring away. The Princess of Hell could barely even see them as the Heaven's Light from the distance blinded her...
Charlie shielded her eyes from the bright light, trying to catch a glimpse of the white dove as it flew into the distance. As she stood there, she couldn't help but wonder what the bird's sudden departure meant. Was it just a chance encounter, or was there something more to it ?
"Ain't he a little rascal?"
Charlie nearly perked as she made a sharp turn to the sound of a voice, already knowing the voice from before. The Australian Trash Demon just stood where the shadow of the apple-tree's branches lay on the ground, grinning wickedly.
Charlie turned around to face the Australian trash demon, her expression filled with annoyance. "What do you want now, Roo?"
The Trash Demon chuckled, a raspy sound that sent shivers down Charlie's spine. "Oh, many things, mate. But it seems liyyke i've stumbled upon a rahah sight - the bloody princess of hell, bondin' with a wite dove."
"You know that dove?" Charlie narrowed her eyes at the demon.
"My own father knows him quite well...he is the bloody biggest cunt fawr hah fawr a very long-time." Roo explained. Charlie arched an eyebrow, and the demon grinned even wider. "Oh, ya know...he is everythin' sinners feahr in our life..." Roo then snatched the apple from Charlie's hand. "ah remindah of it."
Roo then took the bite of apple...and she immediately spat it out of her mouth. "Oh, bollocks! It's fucking rotten, mate!"
Charlie couldn't help but roll her eyes at the demon's antics.
"Well, what do you expect? It's been growing on Pentagram's poisoned soil for a while, Roo." she said, gesturing towards the ground.
Roo just laughed, tossing the apple core aside.
"Ah, ya'ah always such a delight, cunt. Ya nevah fail ta entertayyn me."
Charlie sighed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Thanks, I guess... but what do you want, really?" she asked again, her tone firm.
"Crikey, Charlie! Don't you see...that pull ...that connection ?"
Charlie blinked a few times, confused. "What connection?"
"Don't be stupid...don't think these nightmares' of yours weren't for nothing... he is calling you for a long time."
Charlie opened her mouth but didn't say a word. With the whole fiasco with the dad, she completely forgot about the nightmares she had. And Roo doesn't help with that...
"Who is " he ?"
"You know him already..." Roo said, her voice turning serious. " He is been with us ever since, watching us, observing us. If you're truly wish to reedem Sinners...then you must speak with him ."
Charlie still stared at Roo's eyes. She is again not sure what or who she really means...so pretty vague...so pretty enigmatic...and so devilish.
"How can I trust you, Roo? Vaggie and I trusted you, only for you to break that trust?"
Roo chuckled. "Trust me? Oh, that's a good one, mate. How can you trust me if you can't trust yourself? The choice It's up to you...but if you wish to seek your road...you have to make us whole again...."
Charlie still stared at Roo's eyes, considering her words carefully. She didn't know who or what Roo was talking about, but the thought of "seeking redemption", which she mentioned...it was a tempting prospect.
"I will give you the benefit of the doubt. But if you betray me again, Roo. That will be the end between us..." Charlie finally said something, noting her solemn tone. "So where will I meet him?"
Roo just chuckled at that.
"Touch my hand, mate...and I will make it happen." She extended her hand.
Charlie hesitated for a moment but eventually reached out and took Roo's hand. As soon as their skin touched...something felt...odd but familiar...like Charlie was whole again once more.
A strange creature appeared behind Roo in the blink of an eye. The pile of fog would manifest into a weird, shadowy thing; its appearance can be described as having the shape of a woman from the waist down but a serpent's body below. Its body was transparent, as if it were a ghost. The strange creature would tilt its head slightly, watching Charlie, before placing its shadowy clawed hand on Roo's shoulder, as if comforting her child.
"ψ W̸̭̲̬͆͌̐͌̉e̷̥̤͚̟̜̓̿̑͗̐l̶͍̫̐c̵͎͉̣̺̋̉͝͝o̸̞̪͖̓̃ͅͅm̸̩̝͛͑ȩ̵̳̻̞͉̍̽̃ ̷̧͓̤͕̜́̈b̶̜̙͕͔̱͐͋a̷̟̱̗͌̈́͌̊̇c̵̫̗̐͛̆k̵̭̒̀̉̚,̴̥͎̱̳̀̅͐̕͝ ̶̰͖͎̘͎̈́͒m̸̖̝̣̀y̴̞͕͇͔̅̆ ̵͎̬̝͌̄̊c̸͉̔̾͠ͅḧ̶̨̺́͒͊i̵̙̦͙̤͛͑̾͌͝l̸̢͚̲͍̹̍̓̇͛̌d̷̡̟̪̤͋̓͐̒̕.̸͔̖̝̈̕.̸͔̰̄̔̑͐.̶̛͎̣͎̥͍̿̔ ⛥"
"What...are you...-" Charlie tried to say something. But as if jolt of energy ran through Charlie's body, and she felt herself being pulled into a different realm...the last thing she saw was herself falling on the grass, with both Roo and the weird creature still staring at Princess of Hell. And after that....
Everything went silent.
Chapter 24: The Cycle Of Treachery
Summary:
“Someone who smiles too much with you can sometime frown too much with you at your back.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
Notes:
Originally, I had planned for both Lucifer and Charlie parts to be in here, but Lucifer's turned out be WAY bigger than I expected. And so I decided to split it, now making this as "Lucifer Centric" chapter while Chapter 25 will return back from where Chapter 23 left off.
Now, I won't lie but this chapter might be boring (At least in my "reader" eyes), but on good side, Chapter 25 should arrive rather quick.
Chapter Text
September 21, 2025, AD (102 Days Before the Next Purge), 8:34 AM.
Hell/Pentagram City's outskirts/The Morningstar's Compound.
As it's usual for many dreams to get crushed in hell, The beauty of morning stopped and was replaced with mild rain, the steady droplets filling the air with a dull, persistent hum. The city was now shrouded in a thick mist that clung to everything, obscuring even the tallest of buildings in a veil of gray.
As the rain continued to fall, the denizens of Hell below began to grumble and mutter amongst themselves. It was not uncommon for Pentagram City to experience extended periods of inclement weather, but this was different. This rain felt heavier, more oppressive, as if it were somehow a reflection of the city's own sense of despair. Even Lucifer had to notice that...
Lucifer already returned to his home before the rain could have begun. The atmosphere was somber and depressing, fitting for his current state of mind. And as he entered home, only silence and emptiness greeted him...no Charlie's voice, no Lilith's...and not even Serpent's.
He would arrive in his living room, make himself relax against the couch, and lay Razzle on the table. Lucifer closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his thoughts press down on him like a heavy burden. He couldn't shake the image of Charlie out of his mind...His eyes would notice Razzle, reminding him that he created Charlie's toy in the first place...And that made him only furious...but not at Charlie...but at himself for allowing Charlie to become like him .
"Damm you!" He yelled at no one, grabbing Razzle from the table and throwing it against the wall. The sound of Razzle hitting the wall echoed through the room, followed by a soft thud as it hit the floor. Lucifer sat there for a moment, breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself down. He knew that he shouldn't have taken his anger out on the toy, but the frustration he felt was overwhelming...and a single thing that his own mind repeated for itself.
"YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY OVER ME, FATHER! I DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT!"
"You're taking too much from me, little wings..." Lucifer muttered to himself, taking a sip of whiskey.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing control over her, that she was slipping further away from him with each passing day.
Lucifer knew that he had been too lenient with her, too indulgent. He wanted her to be happy, to find her own way in hell, but he also knew that he had a responsibility to guide her and prepare her for the harsh realities of hell. He had tried to shield Charlie from the "true" aspects of it, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before she was exposed to the full extent. But how could he do that without suffocating her spirit? How could he balance the need to protect her with the need to let her grow?
He couldn't bear the thought of her becoming as merciful and just as he had been in his "Archangel" days...only to spiral into hatred and treachery toward her own father...combination of these two is a dangerous thought that Lucifer would not want to see. The old "Helel" that lingers with him is a reminder of how destructive he was...something that his own father warned about.
And here Lucifer couldn't help but think of his own father, the one who had cast him out of Heaven and into Hell. The memories were still fresh in his mind, even after all these millennia. The betrayal, the pain, the sense of being abandoned by the one who was supposed to love him unconditionally...it was a wound that never fully healed.
Even today.
(Pre-Rebellion) Heaven/The Empyrean Palace
(Somewhat 200,000 years ago)
Anger
Frustration
And loss of faith...
Archangel Helel's sandals clanked against the marble stone as he made his way through his Mother's and Father's palace, his mind consumed by a tumultuous mix of emotions....and no understanding whatsoever...
Helel couldn't understand his father anymore. He had always been a loyal and devoted son, following his father's every command without question. But as time went on, both Yahweh's and even Mother Asherah's actions became questionable. He had watched as Yahweh and Asherah grew more and more distant, their divine duties consuming them to the point where they seemed to have forgotten the very essence of their roles as creators.
Helel had tried to voice his concerns to his parents, but each time he was met with dismissive responses, as if his worries were inconsequential. He felt like he was shouting into the void, unheard and ignored. And then there was the matter of humanity. Helel couldn't comprehend why Yahweh and Asherah were so obsessed with them or why they had created them in the first place.
Already seeing what has become of Lilith and Adam's toxic marriage, it was enough for Helel to see the full picture. Adam and Lilith's race is flawed and imperfect, prone to violence and destruction. And still Helel watched as Yahweh and Asherah showered them with blessings and protection while neglecting their own children.
As he stormed forward, Helel noticed other angels glancing at him with a mixture of concern and surprise. They could sense his anger and frustration, and they knew that something was amiss. But Helel didn't care. He had reached a breaking point, and he couldn't keep his feelings bottled up any longer.
Eventually, Helel would arrive at the gates to the throne room. Seraphim Sera was standing guard, waiting for her divine parents to conclude their meeting. She noticed him immediately and looked at Helel with concern in her eyes.
"Helel, what brings you-"
"Step aside, Sera! This does not concern you!" Helel's voice boomed, the force of his emotions causing the air around him to vibrate.
"But the divines-"
"Move, I said!" Helel showed brotherly love by pushing Sera away from his path. Sera let out a gasp as she stumbled backwards and fell on the ground. She looked up at Helel in shock, her wings splayed out behind her.
"What has gotten into you?!" She asked, her voice shaking slightly.
Helel ignored her and marched forward towards the throne room gates. He sprung them open with a loud clang and stormed inside, not bothering to knock or announce himself to the divines. Yahweh and Asherah were seated on their thrones as per usual, and the rest of the Seraphims stood by the walls.
The Two Primordial Spirits are in their typical psychical forms. God's form resembled Helel and Michael's looks, with the differences that he looks a bit older and has a white or gray beard. Asherah's form is more similar to Lilith's and Eve's, with a pointed chin and startlingly long eyelashes as her defining features, and her golden hair falling down to her shoulders.
Metatron also stopped writing on his scroll and shifted his glance at Helel, as he strode forward, his eyes locked onto the divine pair on their thrones. The Divines fixed their eyes on Helel but didn't say a word to him, as if waiting for Helel to speak. Their faces were serene and composed, as if nothing were wrong. But Helel could see through their façade, and he knew that something needed to change.
Sera didn't give way that easily with Helel's earlier stunt. Even as Helel strode towards them, Sera paced herself quickly enough to block Helel's path before addressing the divines.
"Mom and Dad, Helel barged in, and I tried to -"
"It's okay, my Sera." God showed her palm, not needing their child to explain herself.
Sera gave a nod before lowering her eyes at the marble floor...and Asherah immediately noticed Sera's discomfort.
"Is something else bothering you, my dear?" She asked, her voice soft and comforting...as she always is.
"Helel pushed me, mother..." Sera sniffed slightly.
"Aww, your poor Seraphim." Asherah brought her hand to her chest in delight, already seeing that Sera craved motherly love. "Come to your mommy so she can kiss your boo-boo."
Sera hesitated for a moment, still feeling hurt and upset by Helel's bullying, but she couldn't resist her mother's loving words. She walked towards Asherah, who embraced her tightly and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"There, all better now?" Asherah asked with a warm smile.
Sera nodded, feeling comforted by her mother's love. "C-can I sit on your laps, Mom?"
"Daring, are we?" Asherah chuckled at this; even Yahweh smiled at that. The Goddess still shifted on her throne, making room for Sera to sit on her lap. Sera nestled into her mother's embrace, feeling safe and loved.
Helel stood there, watching the scene with a mix of emotions. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at Sera's closeness with their divine parents. He had always felt like an outsider, even though he was one of the most powerful archangels. But he pushed those feelings aside and focused on the matter at hand. He cleared his throat, catching the attention of Yahweh and Asherah.
"Father, Mother," he began, his voice shaking with anger. "Do you know why I'm here?"
"About Lilith?" God asked, although he already knew the reason. His eyes shifted back and forth at Sera and Helel, who were nuzzling her cheek against Asherah's neck while Yahweh's Divine Equal played with Sera's locks.
Helel nodded, his jaw clenched. "Yes, Archangel Samael told me that she was cast out of the Garden of Eden yesterday and forced to live in the wilderness because she dared to question your authority!"
"Cast out?" Yahweh repeated, finding Helel's words to be strange and misleading. "I presume that's what Samael told you from his point of view. But I'm sure he also forgot to mention how stubborn and prideful Lilith behaved towards Adam?"
"Not to mention throwing rocks at Adam's face, my son." Asherah added.
"Well, of course! Adam forced himself on her!" Helel's voice rose with frustration as he defended Lilith. "She refused to be subservient to him, and he responded with violence. And instead of punishing Adam, you cast out Lilith. That's not fair!"
God sighed, his eyes closed briefly before opening again. "Helel, don't assume that we don't see Adam's behavior too. But you must understand that Lilith's behavior was unacceptable as well."
"Between man and woman should be perfect harmony." Asherah continued her husband's wisdom. "But what happened between Adam and Lilith was not harmony; it was a power struggle. And Lilith's rejection of Adam's dominance is not something we can condone either."
Helel's frustration turned into anger. "So, what? Lilith is just supposed to submit to Adam's every whim and desire? That's not harmony; that's oppression, mother!"
"That's not what we are saying, Helel," God replied, his tone firm.
"Then why should Lilith suffer the consequences while Adam gets off scot-free?" Helel asked, his voice still raised.
"Because Adam has shown he is willing to learn ." Yahweh spoke, his voice calm but authoritative. "With Eve, it's been shown that Adam will listen as long as his partner won't berate him every second. Lilith, on the other hand, has refused to accept responsibility for her actions and has continued to refuse to cooperate with Adam."
"But she has a right to her own autonomy and agency," Helel argued.
"And we have granted her that. Lilith can freely explore Earth as she desires without any of our objections. If she is willing to help Adam and Eve in any way she can, then she is always welcome to return back to Eden."
"And you seem to be rather...worried for her. We sent your sister Uriel to assist Adam and Eve recently." Asherah then makes a pause as she looks at her equal. God returned with a warm smile and nodded that he was okay with that. "And Uriel developed a warm feeling for our Eve."
"And?" Helel wasn't sure where she was getting that.
"Oh, Helel." Yahweh chuckled, surprised that he didn't realize this. "Don't you see...the way you care for Lilith, the way you worry for her...it would seem you're quite fond of her."
"To the point of harboring romantic feelings at First Woman." Asherah smiled. As Goddess of Emotions and Love...she knows .
"N-no!" Helel's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. His rosy cheeks grew even more red. "Lilith!? Yeah, right!"
"Helel, there's no need to be ashamed if you have feelings for Lilith." Asherah raised an eyebrow at her son's response. "I blessed you all to feel attraction to someone."
"Humans are disgusting little creatures. I won't touch one if my existence depended on it." Helel crossed his arms, scowling at himself.
"You say this based on your feelings, my son." God interjected. "You should not judge humans based on the actions of a few. Adam, Lilith and Eve are capable of great love and compassion just as much as angels do."
"And that's why you neglect us over them?" Helel confronted.
"We do not neglect all of you." Yahweh shook his head...again Helel misleads.
"You LIE, father!"
Helel's eruption at their Divine Parents caused a brief moment of tension in the room, but Asherah and Yahweh remained calm. Helel still continued to argue, his frustration and anger evident in his voice.
"You only care for Adam and Eve and their precious little garden! You send Uriel to help them, but what about us? I cannot stand by and watch as you neglect your own children and shower these "Humans" with your favor. They are flawed and imperfect, and yet you continue to protect them while ignoring our needs!"
Helel then breathed for air from his tantrum, his chest heaving with emotion. Asherah and Yahweh exchanged a knowing look before turning back to their son.
"You're angry because we asked you to serve them instead of us, my son?" God confronted, seeing that Helel was not really bitter about Humans...but rather at him and his divine wife.
"YES, FOR YOUR SAKE!" Helel threw his hands in the air, happy that there was some progress. "I don't understand why you would want us to serve those flawed creatures when we are your own children, created in your image, and yet you seem to care more for them than for us!"
And here, God finally stood up from his throne. He showed his palm to Asherah and said he would handle it. He would come calmly and gently towards Helel, hands behind his back, as he stared at his Son...with huge concern.
"Helel, there are times when you no longer can hold it to your heart..." God began, hoping he would listen to him. Helel looked up at his father, his expression still angry and frustrated. God would then slightly kneel to meet Helel's eyes. "You must understand that once Adam and Eve are ready, that will be the end of it...that our creation will be finally complete. Your angel siblings and humanity would become our future, the future that your mother and I sought to create from the chaos that Azathoth brought, Helel...In time - "
"You will have to let us go."
Helel's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he processed his father's words. It didn't soothe him in the slightest.
"I have served you faithfully for eons, and now you're telling me that I will no longer have a place in your plans? That I will no longer be able to serve you...only to serve them ? You promised us that we would serve you forever, and now you want to cast us aside like old toys?"
"We never said you would serve us forever..." God once again had to correct him. "Adam and Eve are the next step in our creation, and we need all of our children to support them. This is a necessary step in our journey."
Helel shook his head in disbelief.
"I cannot accept this. I will not serve them....and I will not be a pawn in your game, father." Helel cursed as he kept the anger in check, but it's already slipping.
"Have patience, my son. Everything will make sense in the end. In the meantime, I just wish you would help Adam and Eve in any way you can. Why you can't see - "
"And if I don't want it!?"
"Helel, please listen to -"
"YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY OVER ME, FATHER! I DO WHATEVER I WANT!" Helel finally had enough that even his wings spread, the fiery feathers glowing with intensity. His eyes burned with anger as he glared at his parents.
The Choir of Seraphims all around the throne room gasped at this tarnation of their Divines' image. But God and Asherah remained calm despite Helel's outburst.
"You are still my son, Helel, and I love you dearly. But you must understand that your pride blinds your own reasoning, and it will lead you down a path of destruction."
"You treat me like a child, Father. I am stronger than you realize, and I will not be intimidated by your words about some "Pride" taking me over. You can keep your precious Adam and Eve for all I care, but know that I will not bow down to them. I will still continue to help you for the betterment of my siblings. But now I've lost all of my faith in you and in my mother's reasoning. I'm DONE with you!"
With that, Helel spread his wings and took off into the sky, his fiery aura illuminating the darkness around him. God and Asherah watched as their son disappeared into the distance, their hearts heavy, knowing the path Helel has chosen would lead him down a dark road.
Sera watched the exchange between Helel and their parents with growing concern. She knew her brother well, and his anger and defiance were not to be taken lightly. As much as she understood their father's plan, she also knew that Helel would never willingly serve Adam and Eve.
Lower Heaven/Somewhere not far away from Eden.
A Garden of Eden is a place of pure beauty, a paradise on earth that embodies the essence of natural splendor. It is a haven of lush greenery, abundant with exotic flora and fauna, and teeming with life. The air is fresh and fragrant, and the sound of birds and other creatures fills the air with an orchestra of music. It is a place of unbridled peace and harmony, where the sun shines bright and the sky is blue. The trees are tall and majestic, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The flowers bloom in a riot of colors, spreading their sweet fragrance all around.
In the Garden of Eden, the streams flow crystal clear, reflecting the vibrant hues of the surroundings. The waterfalls cascade down the cliffs, creating a mesmerizing sight. The fish in the streams swim merrily, adding to the vibrant life in the garden. Amidst all of this, there are animals and birds of all kinds. They roam free and are unafraid of humans, adding to the magic of the place. The Garden of Eden is truly a place of wonder, a place where one can connect with nature and find inner peace.
At least that's what has been told to Helel.
And now, The Star of God found himself sitting on the top of a hill, observing The Garden of Eden below him. He didn't see Adam and Eve from here, and it's doubtful they saw him...but Helel was not interested in them.
Helel's mind was consumed by his anger and frustration towards his parents. He couldn't understand why they would cast him aside after all he had done for them. As he looked down at the Garden of Eden, he couldn't bring himself to care about the humans that were supposed to be his new focus.
"Hey, Star." Helel heard someone call for him from behind. Helel turned his head and saw another female Archangel standing behind. It's of course Archangel Uriel: The Light of God. He wondered when he would see her, sooner or later.
"What's up, Sunshine?" Helel greeted her and smiled at her.
"What's up?" Archangel Uriel would raise her thin eyebrow. She would look up at first before looking at him once more. She even pointed her pale finger at the sky. "Well It's a sky, Helel."
"...Excuse me?"
"You're asking me what's up."
"I meant, how are you doing, Uriel?" Helel chuckled at that. Archangel Uriel still raised her eyebrow at this, very confused at this manner of speech. "Ah, it's just Lilith. She came up with the word "What's up?" as a short term for "how are you doing?"
"Huh, It's an interesting choice of words she made..." Uriel pondered before summoning her book of wisdom and writing it down with her feather pen for future references.
"Well, that's Lilith...she always had a way with words," Helel chuckled softly at her reaction, his smile fading as he looked back down at the Garden, only to return his glance back at Uriel. "So, Dad mentioned you're busy with Adam and Eve?"
"Yeah, taught them how to plant tree seeds for today...it was a very...delightful time I spent with them. Eve is so quick to catch up and learn from me. Adam...not so much, but he is not that far away from her."
"Sounds like you're very fond of Eve, Sunshine." Helel slightly teased her, remembering what Asherah had said about Uriel and Eve before.
Although Uriel didn't realize he was just teasing her, Uriel would press her book against her chest, blushing slightly.
"Eve is...she is something, Helel. The way she smiles and is cheerful and delightful to everyone with whom she speaks makes me feel warm inside. I was worried she would be just a copy of Lilith at first...but as Cherub Serpentel said to me...Eve is full of sunshine and rainbows, with butterflies guiding her path."
"I'm glad she's making such an impression on you." Helel nodded, a small smile appearing on his face as he listened to her talk about Eve...and again, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards the humans. They seemed to be the center of attention for everyone.
They both fell silent for a moment, looking out at the Garden of Eden in peaceful contemplation. But Uriel saw there is...something off about Helel. They don't call Uriel the Archangel that shines God's light into the darkness of confusion and doubt for nothing.
"You okay, Helel? You look like...like you met Devil for the first time."
"Just...frustrated, Uriel. With everything, I suppose..." Helel let out a heavy sigh, his gaze still fixed on the garden below.
"That's a bit of a vague statement, even from you." Uriel raised an eyebrow.
Helel crossed his arms as he hesitated for a moment before finally speaking.
"You seen Lilith recently?"
"Yeah, Father asked me to visit her, as 'the third time's the charm." But Lilith refused...to the point of insulting me."
"Insulting you?"
The Light of God nodded, a frown appearing on her face as she remembered the encounter...still left a bit of a sour taste for Uriel.
"Lilith called me a "Disgrace of Asherah's image" because she... seen me in my masculine "appearance" before."
"Heh, a lesser being telling an Archangel that she is a disgrace of Goddess? My-my...the audacity of that woman." Helel smirked at that, admiring Lilith's boldness. But his expression still softened as he heard Uriel's words, feeling a pang of sympathy for his sister. "I'm sorry to hear that, Uriel. No one deserves to be insulted like that."
"Ah, it's fine, Helel. I turn the other cheek, so to speak...despite my intense desire to burn her." Uriel joked, offering a small smile, though it was clear that the encounter still slightly hurt her feelings. But Helel knew she was quite strong enough to let it not bother her that long.
"That's a rather impressive display of restraint, Uriel...for you , that is."
"...And what's that supposed to mean, sparkles?" Uriel dared, hands on her hips with a slightly tilted head.
"Oh, you know...many things, my sister." He again teased her, even booping where her nose is supposed to be. Uriel still stared at Helel with a "fake" angry stare, despite the grin on her black lips breaking the façade.
"Uhuh, whatever you say, Star of God." Uriel pushed him in a friendly manner, causing Helel to chuckle. But he still didn't forget about the earlier conversation.
"But in all seriousness, it turns out Lilith has been exiled from Eden."
"So, I have heard." Uriel nodded slowly. "It's a shame, really, for what happened to her. I just hope she can find her way back to grace."
"Doubtful..." Helel shrugged at that. "First Adam and Lilith's behavior...and now her exile. I'm getting tired of Father's nonsense..."
"Nonsense?" Uriel echoed, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "Father always has a reason for everything he does."
Helel let out a sigh. "Yeah right..."Created in their image" they said. "They will be perfect" they said, and now look at Adam and Lilith. It's frustrating to see so much conflict and suffering... I don't understand my father's plans anymore..."
"It's true that we don't always understand his plans." Uriel nodded in agreement. "But we must have faith that everything happens for a reason and that it is ultimately for the greater good. We may not see it now, but in the grand scheme of things."
"Easy for you to say. You always have been the faithful one to them."
"Someone has to be." Uriel smiled softly. Still, there was a nagging thought that Light of God couldn't shake off. Although she is not an expert when it comes to reading body languages like Archangel Zadkiel is, She still saw that there was more of Helel's unusual behavior...and something just didn't sit right with her.
"You look frustrated, Helel." Uriel would make a few steps closer to Helel, trying to read his expression more closely. "Are you...Do you hate your father?"
Helel's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by Uriel's sudden question.
"What? No, of course not!" He exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously. He was more baffled at Uriel's boldness to even DARE to ask this kind of question...
"Are you sure?" Uriel pressed on gently, sensing that there was more to Helel's frustration than just the recent events with Lilith and Adam.
"It's not that I hate Father, Uriel...it's just that I don't understand him. I don't understand why he created the lesser beings who are shown to be violent and arrogant and then wants us to help them and serve them." Helel sighed, looking out at the garden once more. "I just...sometimes I wish things were different, you know?"
"I know, Helel," Uriel said, her voice full of sympathy. "I too sometimes feel like I don't understand them. But I believe that Father and Mother have a greater plan for all of us, even if we can't see it yet." Uriel replied before lowering her head down. "And because I do it out of love for my father and mother...and for Eve as well. I have faith that everything will work out in the end."
Helel nodded thoughtfully, taking in Uriel's words...despite that there is still a sign of hesitation.
"Look, I know my words are not convincing...but that's just how I feel about it." Uriel said, placing a comforting hand on Helel's shoulder. "If you want, we can talk about it later...as it would seem you have different plans for today."
Uriel then pointed her finger for Helel to see the arrival of another two Archangels. One of them is a Female Archangel, much like Uriel, she wears a yellow mini skirt and yellow upper cloth that covers her breast, alongside some golden bracelets on her neck and her arms.
And the other is...the epitome of an Archangel that’s essentially made for battle. He is very tall, about 2.4 meters, with the peak physical condition of a large, athletic frame with a well-defined and muscular build. He sported a red line going down the majority of his upper body and up to his face, a scar he wore in his long fight against the Azathoth's remnant shards.
"Huh, surprised to see you here, Yophiel and Samael." Helel greeted his siblings, letting go of Uriel. "Did father sent you?"
"No..." Samael responded in an uptight manner. Not much of a speaker like Michael...but still a great force of nature and mighty leader of the Ha-Satans and Choir of Powers against Azathoth's remaining minions.
"Right..." Helel appreciated Samael's contribution...before just shifting his glance at the Keeper of God, hoping she would be more straightforward. "Yophiel?"
"B-b-best for her to explain it, sweetie." Yophiel simply said, slapping Samael's arm to stop him from blocking someone from Helel's view.
Archangel Samael grumbled like a grandpa but stepped aside to reveal who was standing behind him. Turns out there was another Archangel...
As that Archangel stepped forward, Helel couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between him and his other siblings. While the other archangels were adorned in brilliant, shining armor and robes of gold and silver, this one wore a simple, unadorned tunic of dark green that matched the color of his piercing eyes. His raven hair was long and unkempt, falling in tangled waves around his broad shoulders.
Despite his rough appearance, he carried himself with a quiet confidence that demanded respect. He stood tall and straight, his gaze fixed on Helel with a curiosity that was both unsettling and intriguing.
"Salutations, Uriel and Helel. What a fine moment to see us all together in these...uncertain times."
"Azazel? That's rather unusual to see you outside of our father's palace, brother of secrets." Uriel expressed her surprise.
"The backbone of surprise is fusing speed with secrecy, Uriel. As a Secret of God, I need to keep my movements hidden, but in times like these, it's necessary to reveal myself."
"I hate psychology..." Samael grumbled at himself...just what he needed right now.
“When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves.” Azazel took a shot at Samael before turning his attention to Helel. "But forgive me for my sudden appearance and for interrupting your conversation with Uriel. But I must bring news that I believe you will find of great importance."
"What's so important?" Uriel asked.
"My apologies, bearer of Light. But I have to ask you to leave us. This is a matter for Samael, Yophiel and Helel. Metatron expects you to report him once you're done with our Genesis Creations for today..."
"That's alright, Uriel. I see you later, sis." Helel assured her, wanting to somewhat ease up, as Azazel is very cold and uncaring with his manners. But Uriel nodded understandingly before giving Helel a small smile. She would lean in and peck Helel's cheek, caressing his arm.
"It's okay. I was supposed to report Metatron anyway. See you around, Helel...don't forget I love you dearly, brother."
"I love you too." Helel smiled, pinching Uriel's rosy cheek with affection.
With a small smile, Uriel turned to leave from their presence, her wings unfurling as she took to the air and disappeared in the clouds of Heaven...It was the last time he ever saw her... as it was too late.
Once Uriel was gone, Helel turned his attention back to Azazel, Samael, and Yophiel. "Alright, what's this important news you have for me?"
Azazel glanced at Samael and Yophiel at first, giving a nod before explaining...
"The Primordial Spirit, the Devil himself, requests our assistance..." Azazel said eerily. Even Helel's expression darkened at the mention of the Devil. "By the Devil's own wish, I came here to deliver the news that some Cherubs escaped into the Underworld and began to...think differently." Azazel replied.
"Differently?" Helel repeated.
"Treacherous little b-b-bastards, Helel." Yophiel slightly stuttered. She is suffering from a little faulty "dyslexia", causing her to not properly make the "b" sound.
"And who is the one responsible for that?"
"Al-Shaitan..." Samael once more said it with a very hateful and wrathful tone.
"Figures...nothing good ever came from that Cherub." Helel cursed, somewhat not surprised by this news. He then glanced at Underworld, who is orbiting peacefully in the plains of Immaterium.
Helel hated this Afterlife with all of his Morningstar passion. Unlike Heaven or Purgatory, with the latter belonging to Death herself, the Underworld was a barren wasteland of nothingness and rock. It was the realm of the darkness, so to speak. The Dark Angels, led by Muriel and second-commanded by Azrael, sometimes visited the Underworld as an envoy from Heaven...or rather, they delivered the complaints from Heaven to the Devil himself, often berating the Devil for not accepting God and Goddess's vision of creation...
"Which is why we need to act swift and fast to deal with them," Yophiel interrupted Helel's own thoughts.
"I agree, Yophiel." Helel nodded before glancing at Azazel. "What do you suggest we do about this?"
"I'm confident that the four of us shall handle it." Azazel simply expressed.
"You're coming with us, Azazel?" Helel asked, curious. He raised an eyebrow at Azazel's statement, sensing that there was more to his suggestion than just handling the situation with the Cherubs in the Underworld.
"Underworld is full of mysteries and dark secrets. I will assist in any way I can. I suggest that you go to the Underworld and confront Shaitan directly. You have the power to reason with him and convince him to stop his misguided ways. It is the only way to prevent this situation from escalating any further."
"And do you know where Shaitain resides with his cultists?"
"In the Devil's own palace in The Plains of Despair ." Azazel said it casually.
"Of course..." Helel shook his head, scowling at that...just what he needed right now. "Yophiel, Samael. Go and scour the place in the meantime. Azazel and I will join you later."
"Sure, boss." Samael grumbled before he and Archangel Yophiel unfurled their wings and took off into the sky, leaving the shining realm of Heaven behind into the dark abyss of the Underworld.
As they left, Helel still stared at Underworld. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He had always felt a sense of unease whenever he thought about that place, but now it was more than just a feeling. And Azazel didn't pain the full picture. So he would turn back to her.
"What's your game, Secret of God?" Helel confronted.
"My game?" Azazel slightly raised his eyebrow...still the façade of cold manners remained in him.
"You won't riddle me with your fancy quotes, Azazel. Shaitan in the Devil's own palace while you are his attaché from Heaven. Even though I don't like Devil, our father doesn't appreciate us double-crossing the Realm of Underworld."
Azazel sighed, His gaze falling to the ground. He would shift his eyes at Underworld...before back at his sibling.
"There are times we have to learn from our mistakes...mistakes from the past, from the present..."
"And From The Future, Lucifer"
Pentagram City's outskirts/The Morningstar's Compound
"What the-" Lucifer looked to the left and immediately raised himself, fists ready for combat...only to relax his stance as he realized it was her. Azazel...or rather Chancellor Azazel stood silently just near where Lucifer sat before, hands tied behind her back together as she stared at him with her usual cool and detached demeanor.
"Y-you..." Lucifer stammered, baffled to see Azazel in his living room. "You dare to enter my home without my consent?!"
"I see I arrived in the wrong place at the wrong time." Azazel raised an eyebrow a bit, unfazed by Lucifer's outburst. "Perhaps, I will see you la-"
"Don't play coy with me! I'm not in the mood for your games, Azazel!" Lucifer interrupted her with a menacing tone. Azazel tilted her head slightly, still maintaining her composure.
"I am not playing coy, Lucifer. You asked me to come here to report the situation on Ars Bael's death."
Lucifer sighed, calming down a bit. He completely forgot that he sent her here after the whole fiasco with Charlie...his mind focused only on Charlie for now.
"Very well, then. You may proceed, Witch of Secrets." Lucifer would, in the meantime, go to the kitchen to get himself another bottle of whiskey.
Azazel nodded once, opening her mouth to speak.
"So far, we had these facts known to us: About a month ago, Ars Bael was found dead in the Ring of Limbo, in the old ruins of the Capital City. Before that, he had organized an expedition to the Inner Limbo."
"And why was he interested in the Limbonian Wastelands?" Lucifer would come back with a bottle of whiskey.
"According to Astaroth, Ars Bael Goetia has been interested in Minos's old library for a long time. If you remember, Minos's library had a lot of knowledge about "demon binding" and demonology in general. It contained a lot of knowledge that was given to him by King Solomon himself...I hope you see now why Ars Bael was interested in that..."
"Of course..." Lucifer nodded, taking another shot of whiskey. "Grudges last long, even for Ars Goetia..."
"Yes...and here things became foggy to us." Azazel continued, "Some of the members of the Ars Goetian expedition company reported strange occurrences during their journey to the Inner Limbo. Unexplainable deaths, disappearances, and sightings of strange creatures. It's possible that they stumbled upon something they weren't supposed to; we don't know for sure. But there are rumors that Minos's library held more than just knowledge. It's said that he possessed ancient artifacts and powerful spells that even the most skilled demons would covet. If Ars Bael was after that kind of power, it's possible that he unleashed something he couldn't control..."
"And you think this is connected to his death?" Lucifer said so in an uncaring manner.
"That's just theory....but there's more." Azazel noted her tone. "After the next expedition sent by the Ars Goetian Diet, not only did we find Ars Bael's dead body, but we also discovered that several valuable artifacts from the Inner Limbo were missing. It's possible that someone else was after them as well, and that they had a hand in Ars Bael's demise."
"Hm, very interesting..." Lucifer again sounded apathetic. "But tell me, what about Ars Goetia in general?"
"When Ars Goetia's Ars dies, the Great Electors of the Goetian Diet form a so-called regency council. Lord Astaroth...or rather Great Duke Ars-Elector Astaroth Goetia assumed the regency until a new Ars shall be elected." Azazel explained, checking her own nails. "Interestingly enough, at first the Goetian Diet tried to hide that Ars Bael was dead, and in the middle of that, they consolidated all of the power to themselves so that Ars Bael's heirs, like Beleth or Paimon, will play by their rules and won't try to disband the electorate."
"Smart move..." Lucifer smirked at that.
"Indeed...can't be too careful, as the saying goes." Azazel agreed. She would then look at the window, noting how the raindrops increased as she spoke. "Which brings us to the recent timeline now. A few days ago, they announced to the public that Ars Bael was found dead in the Inner Limbo and that they would be conducting an investigation."
Azazel paused for a moment before continuing. "I have reason to believe that the Great Electors are covering something up. They have been stalling the investigation and withholding information from the other Goetia nobility. Great Marquis Phenex thinks that her fellow electors are trying to protect someone or something ."
"Clever bastards..." Lucifer chuckled...got to give credit due for Ars Goetia. These bastards can play "loyal and backstabber" at the same time, which is so perfect that all the Deadly Sins are none the wiser about them. "Since you helped to create Ars Goetia before I rose to power in Inferno, do you suspect their treachery to me, Azazel?"
"No, The Legacy of Ars Belial and Ars Bael are not prone to do something bold and foolish after Alpha-Khan Lycaon and you with Satan nearly destroyed them. Whatever happened to Ars Bael was done externally...not internally in Goetia."
"So, what's your plan now, Chancellor?"
"I will attend the funeral and mingle around the Ars Goetia. Phenex also has her assurance to you that she will try to investigate further..."
Lucifer leaned back on his couch, sipping his whiskey.
"Just another problem I need right now...Charming, I won't lie. "
"Like your failed visit to your daughter?" Azazel hinted apathetically.
"Yes...a visit." Lucifer looked at her and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He would also get up from the couch and would come closer, not bothering with personal spaces. "Someone has been poking where she shouldn't be, my dear Azazel..."
"I'm chancellor of the Stygian Council...can't be too careful, my dear King." Azazel shot a neutral glare back at him. "Especially in these dark times for Inferno..."
"And what do you know about the "dark" times, witch?" Lucifer dared.
"Plenty...that your own daughter is becoming like you... " Azazel coldly said. Lucifer's eyes widened slightly at Azazel's words, but he still remained stoic in front of her.
"I can see choosing you as my chancellor was the biggest mistake I ever had."
"Of course, you need someone who is none the wiser when it comes to you...you have a problem with me all because I'm not stupid like Adrammelech was."
Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Azazel's words, feeling a twinge of anger rising in his chest. "Watch your tongue, Azazel. Adrammelech at least, was a loyal servant to me."
"Loyal, yes. But he was also foolish enough to underestimate you , my king." Azazel countered, not backing down. "I, on the other hand, know better than to underestimate you and your schemes...like Iblis, as a prime example, if I may add..."
Lucifer gritted his teeth, feeling a surge of frustration at Azazel's words. He knew that Azazel knows about the whole "Assassination of Iblis by Exorcists" situation...and his involvement in it.
"My Charlie is not anyone's concern, witch."
"She is everyone's concern, Lucifer." Azazel corrected him. "As much as you love your daughter, you can't shelter her to the infinite and beyond. She must understand her kingdom if she is willing to learn from her mistakes. She needs to see the corruption and the treachery that lurk in the shadows. "
Lucifer glared at Azazel, his fists clenched. "You think I don't know that after you brought us to Shaitan? You think I haven't seen the darkness that surrounds us? That I haven't fought tooth and nail to keep my kingdom from crumbling?!"
"And yet your obsession with her is prevalent even to this day." Azazel pointed it out.
Lucifer's eyes narrowed dangerously at Azazel's words. "What-are-you-implying!?"
"A very simple solution, my King."
"You must let go of Charlie"
Lucifer didn't take seconds for him to grab Azazel's neck and slam her against the wall. Azazel didn't even let out a gasp as she felt the impact of the wall against her back; she refused to back down. She glared at Lucifer defiantly, refusing to show any sign of fear.
"You dare to question my authority and insult my daughter, and you expect me to let it slide!?" Lucifer growled, his grip tightening around Azazel's neck.
"You misunderstand me, my King," Azazel managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm merely suggesting that she needs to learn about her kingdom and the challenges it faces. It's my duty as your chancellor to advise you on matters that benefit your Kingdom."
Lucifer still held Azazel as he leaned his face closer.
"Let me tell you one thing, Azazel. Charlie is my pride, my treasure, my everything. I will protect her with my life, and I will not let anyone harm her or use her as a pawn in their schemes. Unlike my own dad, who fucked off to the higher materium and let go of me...I will never let go of my Charlie even if Judgement Day is coming! Are we clear?!"
"Having someone, that's not the hard part, it's letting go." as the saying goes..." Azazel's eyes softened slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. "But I understand, my King. Your love for your daughter is unparalleled, and I respect that."
"Good...don't forget that, witch!" Lucifer held Azazel in place for a few more seconds before finally releasing his grip. Azazel fell to the ground, rubbing her neck.
Lucifer would come back and took another sip of whiskey, feeling the burn of it as it traveled down his throat. He leaned back in his couch, his eyes closed as he took a moment to calm down. When he opened them again, he saw Azazel still on the ground, looking up at him.
"Get up, Azazel," He said, his tone more subdued.
Azazel got up slowly, still rubbing her neck.
"I understand your feelings towards your daughter, and I should have been more careful with my words." She said, her voice slightly hoarse. "But I still stand by my suggestion. She's still young and inexperienced, and there are many dangers out there that she may not be aware of...like repeating your own fall."
Lucifer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She is becoming just like me: an that's what scares me..."
"That she will rebel against you?"
"NO-ONE dares rebel against me!" Lucifer immediately shot a death-glare at Azazel.
Azazel raised her palm. "I didn't mean to imply that Charlie would rebel against you. I only meant that she may have a different way of approaching things, just as you and your father did when it came to Heaven."
"I just want Charlie to stop with this redemption nonsense." Lucifer's expression softened a bit. "She was just like me: opposing the principles of afterlife...and like me, she has a strong will, and I don't want to break it. I want her to be able to stand on her own, to rule with confidence and wisdom...and yet she is clinging to Heaven's beliefs..."
Azazel nodded slowly, understanding the King's concerns. "I see what you mean, my King. Sometimes, It's natural for a child to want to please their parents and follow in their footsteps...and sometimes it's the opposite. My recommendation for you is to consider that it's time for Charlie to forge her own path, to find her own beliefs and values that may be different from yours. And as her father, you can guide her and support her, but ultimately it's her decision to make."
"Your recommendation is noted." Lucifer dismissively waved her off. Azazel saw that as well...disappointing but it's typical for him. As humans say: Pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes...and it's clear that Lucifer is a lost cause at this point...history loves to repeat.
"Then I shall bid farewell to you, my King."
"There is one more thing, Azazel..." Lucifer muttered. Azazel turned to look at Lucifer, waiting for him to speak. "Once you're done with Ars Bael's funeral. I want you to give Charlie this..."
Lucifer grabbed the Razzle from the table and handed him over to the Witch of Sabbath. Azazel raised an eyebrow before taking the lifeless toy.
"Want to undo your mistakes?" She asked.
"No, there is room for me to show weakness. Taking Razzle was necessary to show my authority over her..." Lucifer then looks Razzle, sighing in a mundane and dull tone. "But I'm sure she'll want him back after we lost Dazzle...just say you managed to steal him from me...I don't want her to know I took pity on her. Carry on, Witch of Secrets."
Lucifer simply signaled the end of their conversation. Azazel bowed respectfully and turned to leave.
"And Azazel..." Lucifer called out, causing Azazel to turn back toward him. "Don't assume that I've forgotten about you causing a downfall on me and Satan with Beelzebub. If you weren't useful to me or The Devil, I would have killed you a long time ago, Witch."
"Understood, my King. But I assure you, my loyalty lies with you and the Devil to the end..." Azazel nodded, unfazed by Lucifer's words.
With that, Azazel left the room, and Lucifer was once again left alone in his thoughts. Lucifer still stared at the window as the raindrops hit against it, with thoughts about Charlie...
And again, as Lucifer stood there lost in thought, he couldn't help but feel conflicted about his daughter. On the one hand, he wanted her to be strong and independent, capable of ruling over Hell with confidence and wisdom. But on the other hand, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease about her clinging to the idea of redemption and the principles of Heaven.
He knew all too well the dangers of opposing the established order and the consequences of rebelling against one's fate. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way, and he didn't want his daughter to suffer the same fate.
But at the same time, he couldn't deny the fact that Charlie was her own person, with her own beliefs and values. As much as he wanted to guide and shape her into the perfect heir, he knew deep down that he couldn't control her every move.
As he continued to stare out the window, he couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty about the future. The fate of Hell rested on Charlie's shoulders, and he didn't know if he was ready to entrust it all to her. Only time would tell what the future held for Charlie and the fate of Hell, but for now, Lucifer knew that he needed to focus on the present and the challenges that lay ahead.
He just hoped that it wasn't too late for Charlie.
Chapter 25: The Devil And The Anti-Christ...
Summary:
"The Devil is not the Prince of Matter; the Devil is the arrogance of the spirit, faith without smile, truth that is never seized by doubt. The Devil is grim because he knows where he is going, and, in moving, he always returns whence he came." - Umberto Eco in The Name of the Rose (1980)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
e̴̪̾̑͋̀p̶̩͉̫̔͑̈́͝t̵̟͒e̴̹̭̼̎̑͗ͅm̸͈͚̳͂b̷͈͓̤͛̓́͜e̵̯͐ŗ̷͇̠̟̽ ̶̼̼̗̍̔ͅ6̴̨̳̆̂̋6̸̦͒͗̆͋ͅ6̴̜̠͔͊̇͛͜,̷̣͉̀̃͘ ̶͓̣͚͖̄̇̿6̶̜̞̬͔͊͒̃̃6̵̬̌̚͝6̴̯̫͎̖̾̏,̶̯̮̘̓̓̏̄͜ ̸̳͇̔̑A̴͈͛̔D̸̢͎͓̜̔͋ ̸̧͗̓̃̉(̸̦̿̑Ḣ̵̪̃̀ḛ̴͚̭͒͋̈́̚ȧ̴̬̪̮͊̊͜v̵̛̝͖̪̎̑̓e̷̞̮̙̾n̸̡̦̗̆͐ ̶̦̬̏̒́̋s̶͓̱̞̝̉́̐͗ḧ̷̨̰̩̦́͑a̶͖̒̆͛͑l̴͕̗͋̓͗̕ͅl̵̜̯̹͕̊͐ ̴͉́̇̄b̷̪̆̍̅͝ę̷̯̭̈́͛̀̈ ̵̟͆ư̶̬̻̒͊̚n̷̺̠̝͕͂ḓ̶̭͚̞̏̔͌ő̶̱̍̀n̶̻͖̠͝e̸̛̤̩̞̜̽͑͒)̷̥͖̻̇̕,̴̭̬̠̽͜ ̷̯̲̞̳̎͛͆6̷̡͇͚̘̌:̵̬͚̲̋6̵̰͇͑͊̾6̸̢̢̻͈͋́ ̴͓̪͐͂̏A̴̼̝̳̎̂̕̕M̷̨̼͖͑̆̾ͅ.̸̧̫̬̼̒͐
B̷̖̻̏̒͑̂́e̶̡̤̞̱̫̣͈̯̦̊̍̌͘l̶̤͓̳̬̼͘ĩ̶͕̖̟͙̮̥̞͑̏͂̈́͝e̸̛̜͇̽̄͛͆̕͠v̵̛͙̥̪̳̓̿͊̓͗ȇ̴̙̯͖̖͆̿̊͆̽͝ ̵̥͇̞͒͂̓ì̵̲̞̬̥̲̦͚̽̿͝͝n̷͔̟͎̞̍͐̐͆̾̌̈́ͅ ̵̬̯͎͈̫͐͌o̷̳͎̒̈̑̃ñ̷͚ẹ̸̛̺̀͜͠ ̴̛̭͍̤̦́̂̒͜͠G̸̛̜͉̜̹̱̥͙͓̤͌̐̋̃͋͠ỏ̶̦͙̠̗̳̊́̓͆͐͒̂d̴̬͓̙͓̹͛͜ ̸̪̭̱͙̦̺̖̤̓͐̾͠d̴͔̯͚̥͙̯͖̠̣̍̾͆͋͆̊͝ö̵̟́ ̵̯̦̥̻̰̭̖̺̜́̌̈͐͛̓͝w̶̱̺̗̹̹̄̆̔ė̴̛͓̽̃́̒̀̊ ̴̧̝͇̥̭͔͛͌̑͘͝D̸̫̙̿̀͛͒̏͋̓͘ē̸̡̬̰͖͈̍͋̑̓̽͊v̸͇̝̣̩͓̌̉̃i̵̮̲̞͇̗̊͐̉̃l̴͍̺̻̺̺̭̉ ̵̛̮̙̼̱̣̙̥͑̂͊̆̚a̴͐́͊̉̎̕͜l̶̨̩̬̞͍͖̗͙͕̈́̃͑̔͝m̸̜̲͇͉̿͘ȉ̷̡̯̬̞̺͉͈̭͌̈̀͐̒̇g̵̤̲̜͙̙̺̳͔̤͑͋h̵̗̀̊̅͂͒̔͒̀̓͜ṯ̵̈̍̋̕͠y̸̢̦̬̱̓̇͗̒́,̷͈͈̳͙̮̪͙̒̅̽̏̑̐ ̵̨̨̡̟͖̥̝̌T̸̲͆̅̎̄͝ḩ̷̱̭͍̼̰͍̗͓͋̔̽̕̕ȇ̷͇͔͖̖̝̓̋ ̸̡̩̙̳̼̏͘ù̵̬̳̙̼̜͖ͅn̸̲͓̭̐c̵̦̹̯͙͑̈́̍͘͠r̷̞͙͌̏̉͋͆̃͗͘͜ë̴̛̳̠̰̥̝́͐̃͘a̶̺̎t̷̥̗͇̱͉͖̀̉͗̀o̶̳̓̎͒̓͊r̴̭̬͔̪̗͓̠͎̝̒͋͐̆̊͑̾ ̷̥̹̺͂̆̀̇̋͐͐̕ͅǫ̶̧̰̥̟̜̝̲͋͋̏̏̊͘̕f̴̢̮̠̖̀͆̈́́̿̌͘͘ ̷̗̜̤̖͔̈́͐́̋̓̋͗͜ͅḩ̵̹͍̰̈́ȅ̶͙͎́́̈̂̚͝͝ấ̶͇̜̯͍͖̙̘̬̦̿͊͗̓̀͝v̶̺́́̒̈̚ẽ̵̮͕̭͚̥̭͐͂̌̏̄̍͜͠n̸̨̮̬̭̍̓̍̀͐͆̕̕ ̷̢̣͖͇͙̂͆͘̚à̷̼̫̞̉̌̉̆͝n̵͉͎̜͇̥̂̊̀d̷̖͑͒̉̀͐ ̷̙̰͇̟͈͓̣̜͗̉͊̕ͅs̸̡̉ŏ̸͙̱̳̦͓̲̔í̴̘̝̐̋̊͆͘l̴̬͇͎̬̻͠.̴̨̡̛̼̥͚̫́͋ ̸̡̦̻̗̗̝̿̃́̚͜A̸̢͙̖̼͒̔̀̊͆̅͠n̷̖͂͑́̈́͝d̴͖͉̣͚̫͉͙̮͎̕͝ ̴̦̟̓̀͛̑t̴͈̮͓͙̠͑͐̔̍̈́̈̃h̸̥̯̙̱͍͙̪͌e̸͉͛̀̿̋͐̉͛͠͠ ̶̟͕̪̖̤̮͎͎͈̑i̸̯̚n̵͓͍̖͚͈̙͂́̂̽v̴̧̱̭́̓̔͐̀͗͆͘̕i̴̘͈͉̺̤͓͑̈́̒̏͛́̚s̴͍̩̖̮̲̱̗͉̀̍͑̉̔̔̄̒̚i̶̡̯̋b̵̧̯̓̐̃̊̊̒̂͊l̴̗̫̩̹̦̟͈̉̎̄ȇ̶̡͓̪̙̠̅͆͜ ̶̢͙̮̩̮̹̮͇̏̄́̔͆̆̇͆͝á̸͎̯n̷͇̠̘̈́̅̉͐͂̃d̸̼̗̗̖̟̳̮͆͑̀͑̃̊̀̒̓ ̵̦͂̈́̏͝t̴̬͖͓̻̮̀h̸̡̨̞̞̝̬͕͈͙̆̃̔̀̏̕ẹ̴̟̏ ̶̞̮́̃̂̈́̇̕v̸̨̛̰̖͖̠͈̮̱̣̔̋̒̓i̸̡͍̣̫̭̻̿̊͒s̴̤̮̦̫̠̥̹̥̪̐̾͐͗i̸̧̛̛̤̍͆̊́̈́͘b̸̮̿̀̆̀̾͘l̶̩͚̳̺̮̺̭̰͂͆̂̂́͒ḙ̷͉̏̆̌͋͊̐͐̔̑ ̴̩͑Ḁ̶͓̙̭̓͆̂͒͠n̷̜̟̝͔̮̥̤̄̽̽̾̈́̆̃d̷̨̠̦͕̳̻̝͋̽ ̶̘͉̺͍̜̞̪̻͕̍͊̂͒̾̀̕̕͝į̵̢̞̯̩̊͑̓̉̔̆͒͝n̸͇̱͈̩̂͆͋͒͊̆ ̸̛̜͎̱̗͉̠͛͌͆͋̿̓͝h̷̨̢̛͉̫͕̤̘̻̒̎̐͑̇̕͜͝ĩ̴̹̭̳̗͂͆̐̓s̴͓̞̝͂̓͗͒ ̷̜͚͎̗̰̯̈̓̀̏͝͠d̵̞̒̓̋̀̈͘a̴̟̫̿̀͆̉̈̕û̷̞̤̞͚̌g̴̨̖̼̮͎̒̊̋̊͛̈́h̵̙̟̉̐̕ṱ̵̘̜͇͇̎̎͊̕͠e̵̤̗͕̲̹̰̭͌͛̇̒r̴̙̠͖̮̼̒͗̔̏͛̋́ ̵͖̖̮̐ḃ̸͖͓̺͉̍͛͂̅̊̂è̷̥̱̰̠̠̖̳̞̥̐̅̉g̵͈̔̋̎̍o̵̧̹̝͕̩̮̥̮̺̎̄̒͘t̴͇͔̬̄̀́̀̊̕͠ṱ̸̡̖͉̗̜̽͊̄̔̍̕ḝ̸̢̫̩̱̞̟͚̖͒̏̃̾͝͝n̵̗͖̓̊́ ̴͍̒̎̉̓̌̇o̴̹͚͎̱̊ͅf̷̧̛̛̿͌͆ ̸̟̍͜͜f̶̡̛̤̙͉̘̺̋̅̏̌̍̀ͅa̷̱̹̘̻̹͍̣͓̅̈̍ẗ̷̞̣̗̜̹̭́͗̏̕͘h̵̹̾̀̃̎̓͝͝ͅę̴̛͍͓̬̦̦͌̾͛̇͒͊̔͠r̴̮͈̬̓̓͒̾̈́̌̔͘ ̷̖̗̱͉̝̫̾̑̑̓̕ͅḂ̸̘͙̙̮̟̳̣̓̂̀̇͋̂̓̚͜y̴̟̱̅̑͒̂͘͠ ̸̡̞̥͚̘̳̘̈́͆̐͜w̷̧̧͖̬̲̭͓̹̍̉ḧ̴̫̙͔͇̩͆̒̆͜ͅȏ̸̱͈̰͎̪̒̐̅̒̎͠͝m̸̫̖͈̓̽̒͘ ̸̢͉͕͈̈́̒a̵̧̤̬̮̳͓͓͐̇̋l̵͙̩͎̜͔̜̹̄͜ĺ̸̡̛̜͎̼̓̍͋̐͘ ̶̨͇̲̯̰̜͙͋̔̆̇͋̒ţ̸͈̖͍̐̀̊̚h̵̛̛̝͚̠̰̃̎̇́̕ḯ̵͙͎͎̰̯͓̲̯̞̑̀̔̕͠n̶̡̨̛̛̥͙͙̯͖̬̄̀́͝͠g̵͇̣̜̀͆s̶̹̙̳͆̈́͑̇̂̍ ̷̡̛̝̤̌͛͐͋̏͊ẉ̶̩̔̽̏́̓͘͝i̸̖̘̭̣͊̇̉̽̀̒̚͜͝l̵͇̂̌̆͐̔͂͂̔͠l̴͍̀̃̚ ̶̨̭̠̱̅̚b̸̦͖̗͚̓͛͋͆̏̏͛͘ȅ̷̜͎̰̱̲̮̆̈́̓̄̆̚ͅ ̵̧̧̘̱̔̆̕ù̸̜̹̬͗͆͌́n̸̰͈͇̩̼̳̰̊͛͛͊͆́̇͠m̵̡͕̰̠̟̻͖̼̖̒̋̄̐̔͛͑̕å̵̱͔̫̹̮̈̓̊͛d̷̢̿̔͝ę̷͉̣͎̺̒͌̑́ͅ
"Uhh...my head," Charlie groaned, rubbing her forehead as she looked up. She found herself in the same situation yet again; back in her old, empty room. Charlie sat up on the bed, taking a moment to collect her thoughts.
The last thing she remembered was Roo touching her hand and some kind of creature appearing right before she fell unconscious. Charlie tried to shake off the dizziness and confusion that clouded her mind. She looked around the room, trying to piece together how she got there. But, as before, everything was just as she remembered it, empty and abandoned.
Charlie got up from the bed and left the room, only to find herself in a long hallway with countless doors, each with "666" room numbers on them. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, and Charlie couldn't see the end of it.
"Well, look who's here! Bloody hell, it's about time!" Charlie heard a faint voice coming from the left. It was a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down her spine.
Charlie turned to face the source of the voice, but she couldn't see anyone. The hallway was empty, and the voice seemed to be coming from nowhere. She tried to shake off the feeling of unease that settled over her, but it was hard to do so when she was already so disoriented.
"Roo?" Charlie called out, her voice echoing down the hallway. There was no response, only silence.
Charlie took a few steps forward, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty hallway. As she walked, the doors on either side of her seemed to stretch on forever, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.
Suddenly, the Princess of Hell heard a sound that made her stop in her tracks. It was the sound of something scratching against the floor, getting closer and closer with each passing moment. Charlie turned around, but she still couldn't see anything.
Then, out of nowhere, a pair of glowing eyes appeared in the darkness, staring right at her. Charlie nearly panicked, but held her ground. She was frozen in place, staring into those glowing eyes as they got closer and closer.
Charlie could feel her heart pounding in her chest as the eyes grew larger and more defined. Finally, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, and Charlie could see that it was some kind of creature. It was hunched over, with long claws extending from its fingers.
Charlie instinctively stepped back, but surprisingly, the creature responded with a slight tilt of its head, as if it were studying Charlie's movements.
"Finally made some new friends, mate?" Roo finally made herself known, appearing just to the left of them.
Charlie's heart rate slowed down a bit as Roo appeared beside her, but the creature with the glowing eyes still remained in front of them, staring intently. Charlie couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and fear as she looked at the creature.
"Who is this?" Charlie asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"That's a sin herself, mate." Roo said, putting her arm around Charlie's shoulders. "Don't worry, it won't harm you."
"What do you mean by a Sin?" Charlie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Charlie was taken aback by Roo's words. Why was she so casual about it?
"I mean a literal Sin. She's always lurking around, isn't she?" Roo chuckled, as if Charlie had just said something funny.
"Well umm...why is she here?" Charlie asked, still staring at the creature. Roo's answer didn't help at all. Charlie still felt a sense of confusion and unease wash over her.
"Who knows?" Roo shrugged with a grin. "Maybe she's just passing through, or maybe she's here for a reason...or perhaps she's here when he 's around."
It immediately dawned on Charlie that Roo was referring to the person who could help her with the hotel's financial problems. There seemed to be a connection between the creature and this person.
"Who is he, really?" Charlie asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"You know exactly who I'm talking about, Charlie."
"Not in the slightest, Trash Demon." Charlie replied, her voice low. She shifted uncomfortably under Roo's gaze.
"Come on, Charlie. Every hellborn creature knows him, even if they've never seen him. He 's so elusive that only a privileged few get to talk to him. But you're special, Charlotte. And he 's waiting for you."
"Over there." The Sin pointed her clawed finger at the nearest door. Charlie's heart skipped a beat when she heard the Sin speak. Charlie turned to Roo, who was still grinning at her.
"Are you coming with me, right?"
Roo shook her head. "Nah, mate. This is your show. You've got to do it on your own."
Charlie took a deep breath of courage and approached the door that the Sin had pointed to. She pushed it open slowly, half expecting to be met with a wall of fire or some other hellish obstacle. But to her surprise, the room beyond was quiet and still.
As she stepped inside, she looked around and saw that the room was empty...until she stumbled upon a new scene.
"Mom...Dad?" Charlie whispered. She had stumbled upon an old memory of hers...the day she was born. And she was crying...
"That’s the fourth time tonight!” Lilith complained as she was growing increasingly frustrated with her baby's crying.
The nursery where the King and Queen of Hell were currently situated was decorated in a dark and gothic style, with dark purple walls, black plush carpet, and a ceiling patterned with intricate light grey swirls. The furniture was all painted in a bloody shade of red and consisted of a wardrobe, chest of drawers, changing table, and a large crib situated in the center of the room. Little Charlie lay crying loudly in the crib, while Lilith growled in frustration, her regret at having borne a child growing with each passing moment.
As present-day Charlie watched this memory of her mother's past, she felt a sense of discomfort at seeing her mother's apparent disinterest in her crying baby self. This was in stark contrast to her own memories of Lilith, who had always loved her dearly. Nevertheless, she continued to observe the scene as her mother picked up her younger self and held her at arm's length, looking at her with annoyance.
"Can't you do anything to stop her crying?" Lilith asked Lucifer, who was sitting in a nearby chair with his arms crossed. Her father seemed to be enjoying the spectacle, grinning mischievously at Lilith.
Eventually, Lucifer came over and picked up baby Charlie, cradling her in his arms as she continued to fuss and whine. Present-day Charlie felt a mix of embarrassment and warmth at the sight, watching as her father soothed her crying baby self.
"I think that's enough screaming for tonight, Charlie," he said to his daughter, who was still red-faced and teary-eyed.
Lucifer held Charlie upright against his chest, cradling her gently as she quietened down. Present-day Charlie couldn't help but feel a sense of love for her father as she watched him interact with her baby self. His face, split into a menacing grin with sharp teeth, held a loving expression that softened it.
"See? Very easy, my dear. She just has your stubbornness." Lucifer replied with a chuckle. "If Charlie wants something, she'll get it."
"For you." Lilith scowled at the exchange, but she couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face at the thought of her daughter inheriting some of her stubbornness.
As Present Day Charlie watched her parents continue to dote on her younger self, Lucifer eventually laid her down in the crib. He stroked her cheek, whispering, "Welcome to Hell, kiddo." Present-day Charlie smiled at the memory, feeling the warmth of her father's love for her younger self. While she may have resembled him more than her mother, she loved both her parents equally, even if they were the rulers of Hell.
Present-day Charlie expected it to end, but it continued on, leaving her with more questions than answers...and a man.
"What?" Charlie blinked twice. In the darkest corners of the nursery, she saw a silhouette of a man, disturbingly standing. She couldn't make out any features of the figure, but she could feel a sense of foreboding emanating from it.
That...man...would soon move closer to the crib, hands behind his back, as he leaned in to get a closer look at the sleeping baby Charlie. His face was obscured by shadows, but his presence was unsettling.
"She will do just fine..." The man then slowly turned his head toward Present Charlie, his eyes piercing through the darkness with an unsettling glow. "Don't you agree, Miss Morningstar?"
"What?!" Charlie felt a surge of terror wash over her as the figure acknowledged her presence. Her first instinct was to step back, only to feel that she had pressed herself against someone. Charlie turned around to see who was behind her and found herself face-to-face with...
Him
The man's features became clearer, and Charlie recognized him as someone she had seen before...she had to blink twice, a third time, and even a fifth time as she looked at him.
"I...I don't know how, but I remember your voice...the day I was born..." Charlie stammered. The man didn't shift anything in his hollow expression, observing Charlie while Sin herself crept behind the man's back. "I remember father used to tell me stories of those who came before ...like beings that shaped everything we know off."
"You assume that Bearer of Light paints the full picture for you, Miss Morningstar." The man spoke with a cold voice. "No person or entity can have the full picture of the knowledge they claim to possess. But I have been around long enough to have seen many things and to know that there is always more to the story than meets the eye."
"Then...who are you, really?" Charlie frowned.
The man hesitated before answering. He slowly moved again as Charlie's memory faded away...now only void and darkness surrounded all around them. The Mysterious Stranger stopped for a moment as he looked up at the void itself...like a father staring at his child attentively.
"I have been asking myself that question." The man spoke enigmatically, clutching his hands behind his back. "For I will never know who I truly am or how to come back... I am nothing, and I am always... Here ."
"The Devil..." Charlie whispered to herself.
Now it all makes sense. In the Dark Pantheon and Unholy Church of Diabolical States, the doctrine and Satanic Bible refer to Hellborns as being destined to serve their father, the Devil, in his eternal kingdom. But Charlie had never truly believed that there was an embodiment of evil. Most Hellborns venerated their respective kings, like Imps worshiped her uncle Satan like a divine being who ascended into Hell to lead Imps. And not to mention that Charlie's father is...in Vaggie's manner of speaking, an atheist.
When it came to religions, Lucifer hated and despised them, often telling her that religion exists in order to brainwash people into submission. Weirdly, her father actually appreciated the Luciferian cultists on Earth for some reason...huh.
"I am the Devil in a sense; you label me this way, Miss Morningstar." The Devil cocked his head to the side, as if reading Charlie's thoughts. "I have been called many names throughout the ages, and some have attributed godly or demonic qualities to me. But in truth, I am neither ...I simply am ."
Charlie felt a shiver run down her spine as the Devil spoke. It was strange to hear such words coming from the embodiment of evil. She couldn't help but wonder what his true intentions were.
"But it confirms that Baphomet's and Iblis's teachings were true...that you truly exist."
"Their..."teachings" are merely a construct of my will." The Devil replied as the darkness around him changed into what seemed to be another scene. Charlie now found herself in one of Iblis' old chambers, where time had been frozen. The Anti-Pope of Hell is surrounded by four exorcists, one of whom held a revolver as he fired at Iblis.
"So that's how he died..." Charlie whispered, not surprised that it's been Lute's cohort that dealt with him...
"It was the actions of exorcists that brought about his demise." The Devil nodded solemnly. "But make no mistake, their actions were influenced by me ."
"By you?" Charlie felt a pang of confusion. "Why would you do that? Why would you let them kill one of your servants?"
"Iblis had become a threat to the balance of my power in Hell, and his actions threatened to disrupt the delicate equilibrium that has been maintained for eons. I did not approve of that..."
With the blink of Charlie's eye. The Devil's presence disappeared once more. Charlie was left standing alone in the frozen chamber of Iblis, trying to make sense of it.
"You, Ms. Morningstar, must understand that sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good." The Devil spoke once more, now appearing in the form of her dad: Lucifer. He stared at Charlie for a few seconds before moving again, this time appearing as the form of the deceased Adam himself. "And you must learn to do it too. "
Charlie couldn't help but feel tense as the Devil kept changing forms in front of her. The Devil once again disappeared before reappearing in his old form.
"I have been watching you since the day you were born, Charlie. Watching you grow and come into your own as the Princess of Hell. You're trying to change Hell...to bring about a new era of peace and understanding."
"But...why would you care about what I'm trying to do?" Charlie asked, still wary of the Devil's true intentions. It was strange to hear that the Dark God acknowledged her goals of bringing peace to Hell and sounded so...calm about it.
"I find you, beings of creation, quite amusing." The Devil smirked, as if he had just shared a joke with himself. "You have such... hope . Such a desire for something more than just the endless cycle of pain and suffering that is Hell. It's almost...endearing."
"It would seem you seek entertainment." Charlie ironically stated, even chuckling as she realized something. "I think Alastor will like you."
"Oh, but Alastor LeBlanc forgets he is also in the cycle of suffering and pain. I think the quote "When life gives you a hundred reasons to break down and cry, show life that you have a million reasons to smile and laugh." is appropriate here."
The Devil then began to circle her around, still not breaking eye contact with Lucifer's daughter.
"But I digress. My interest in you goes beyond mere amusement. I have been observing the struggles of Hell and its inhabitants for eons, and I have come to the conclusion that something needs to end sooner or later. I believe that you may be the key to that change, Charlie. You possess a unique perspective, one that is not clouded by the prejudices that have plagued Hell for so long. You have a genuine desire to make things better for all of Hell's inhabitants. Still...I could not help but wonder about the real truth behind your pursuit of redemption..."
"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, still confused.
"Miss Charlie..." Devil would stop and come closer to her. "Do you really want to redeem Sinners by your own desire...or to show your father that you're not his failure ?"
Here, Charlie remained silent. The Devil's words hit her hard. She had never thought about it that way, but now she couldn't ignore the truth in his words. She had always felt like a disappointment to her father, and she had hoped that by redeeming sinners, she could prove to him that she was worthy of his love and respect.
"Silence is your answer." Devil wasn't surprised. Beings of creation are always the same. "As often shown, it all begins with Pride...Pride then becomes Wrath, Wrath turns into Gluttony, Gluttony into Greed, Greed into Lust, Lust into Envy, Envy into Sloth...and finally..."
"To Treachery...We cannot help but be influenced by those who came before us." Charlie finished the sentence for him, feeling a sinking feeling in her chest. "But I don't want to continue my father's cycle of ignorance. I want to break it, to create something new ."
"As I do..." The Devil's voice was gentle now...few instances where he can agree with the lesser one. "Don't you see it? You are already doing it, Charlie. Your mere existence is a beacon of hope for those who have none . You have already brought about small changes in Hell...you have the potential to bring about even greater old ones ."
"And how can I do that?" Charlie asked, still somewhat not convinced. "Heaven rejected my pleading. Without them...I can't do anything."
"A small step back...nothing less." Devil said it so casually. "A man can have anything if he is willing to sacrifice. Which I wonder about you, Charlie"
"In order to save them all..."
"How much-"
"Are you willing-"
"To Sacrifice? "
Charlie gazed at the Devil with a fierce mix of determination and fear in her eyes. She had been wrestling with the same question for a long time, but now she had to let it out.
"I have been asking myself that same question. But no matter how long it takes, even if the ground shakes beneath my feet, I will not stop until I have done everything in my power to bring about change in Hell and make it a better place for all the suffering sinners. If I have to sacrifice my own existence for this...then well...I will have to."
The Devil's expression remained neutral, and for the first time, Charlie felt that he was looking at her with respect rather than judgment.
"Very good." He uttered, summoning his trident and striking it against the cold darkness.
Charlie felt a strange sensation in her left hand that soon turned into excruciating pain. She screamed as she fell to her knees, clutching her hands tightly.
"What's happening to me!?" Charlie gritted her teeth and clenched her fist, trying to push past the pain. The agony continued until it suddenly stopped, causing Charlie to collapse on the floor. She gasped for air for a few seconds before looking at her left hand. A strange runic symbol had appeared on it.
"What is that?" Charlie stared at the mark on her hand with a mix of shock and confusion.
"It's my mark. It means that you are now bound to me, Charlie," The Devil explained calmly. "You have shown great determination and potential to bring about change in Hell. Hence, I bestow upon you the gift of the command of Sin Herself."
"It's an honor, Anti-One." The Sin spoke, bowing to Charlie.
"I don't know what to say." Charlie finally found her voice. She gazed in awe at the intricate symbol etched onto her skin, still trying to process the weight of what had just been bestowed upon her. "I mean, I appreciate the gift, but what does it mean exactly? What can I do with it?"
"For now, nothing. But in time, you will realize its full potential. But now listen carefully, my dear. I assume you remember the message of the so-called "Seviathan"'?"
"Yes, I do. Sev mentioned the funeral procedure for Ars Bael." Charlie replied, recalling the message.
"Indeed. In order for you to start with your goal, I will grant a little 'nudge' for you. Seek out the one called 'Duke Astaroth' of Ars Goetia. Make a deal with him. If needed, show him my mark," The Devil said cryptically.
"And what exactly am I supposed to ask once I find him?" Charlie furrowed her brow.
"That's up to you; your own destiny shall guide your path, Charlie. And one final piece of advice to you. Don't mention our conversation to anyone. Any attempt to reveal our conversation will only jeopardize your goal. Now you may go forth and fulfill your destiny. In the meantime, this is where I get off ..."
As soon as the Devil said that, The Sin herself touched Charlie's forehead, and Princess Of Hell felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She struggled to stay on her feet but soon fell unconscious once again, her body slumping to the ground.
***
Charlie's eyes flickered open as she groaned, feeling a sharp pain in her throat. She sat up, clutching her head, and looked around in confusion. The dimly lit room was unfamiliar, with flickering candles and strange symbols etched onto the walls.
As she tried to remember how she ended up here, the memories of her dream flooded back to her. The Devil, the mark on her hand, the "nudge" she had been given.
"Ugh...my head" Charlie muttered under her breath, shaking her head to clear it. She pushed herself off some kind of altar, taking a seat on it.
"Ah, her majesty has finally awoken." A voice could be heard from other side of Church.
Charlie looked up and saw two figures emerging from the shadows. They were both dressed in black robes with hoods obscuring their faces. But Charlie can see they are Hellborn Demons, serving the Diabolical states, it would seem.
"We are the Priests of the Diabolical Church in Pentagram City." The taller figure replied, his voice deep and gravelly. "You barged into our Church, demanding to perform the ritual for our Devil..."
"I didn't...I don't remember coming here. I don't even know how I got here," She explained, her voice shaking slightly. She didn't remember even going to Church at all.
The taller priest approached her, his steps heavy and deliberate.
"You bear the mark of our Master." He pointed to the blackened sigil on her hand. "It is the sign of the Devil's chosen, those who have been blessed by his unholy power."
Charlie looked at her mark...and somehow the Devil's gift is now in the real world. She had thought the mark was just a part of her dream, but now it seemed to be real. She looked back up at the Priest, unsure of what to say or do. Still, the young princess would rather not waste her time here as...churches always freaked her out.
"Look, I appreciate the hospitality, but I really need to get going." Charlie said, getting up from the altar.
The two priests exchanged a look, their hoods hiding their expressions.
"By your will, Anti-One." the taller priest said, his voice stern.
Charlie shook her head, taking a step back from the sheer creepiness. She turned and hurried out of the church, feeling a sense of relief wash over her as she stepped out into the fresh air. She looked down at her hand, the mark still present. She didn't know what it meant or what she was supposed to do with it.
But until then...it's back to the Hotel.
Hell/The Ring Of Pride/Pentagram City/The Hazbin Hotel (Happy Hotel)
The hotel lobby was desolate, except for the sound of the clock ticking on the wall. The dim lighting cast a somber and mournful atmosphere, as if the space were grieving.
The elevator ascended slowly, creaking its gears and punctuating the silence. The moth demon looked up at the display, watching each floor pass until it reached the topmost level. Vaggie stepped out into the corridor, the flickering lights casting a sickly glow upon the peeling wallpaper. The air was thick with depression, and she felt uneasy.
As she walked down the hall, her footsteps echoed in the emptiness. Finally, she reached her’s and Charlie's room and paused before placing her hand on the doorknob. Turning it slowly, she pushed the door open.
Inside, the room was dimly lit, with the curtains drawn shut. Vaggie took a step forward, the air was thick with a sense of loss, as if the room were mourning the departure of its occupant. Walking over to the window, Vaggie pulled back the curtains to let in some light, but the thick layer of clouds obscured the sun, casting the room into an even deeper darkness.
Charlie had been Vaggie's friend, confidant, and companion in this dreary world. And now that she's been gone for a while, everything seems to be falling apart. The hotel, once a place of warmth and comfort, now felt cold and desolate. Even the ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to be counting down the seconds until the end.
Sitting on the bed, Vaggie felt the weight of emptiness pressing down upon her. Seeing her beloved sink like that felt like a punch in the gut for Vaggie. Charlie had always been full of rainbows and butterflies, even in the worst situations. She had grown into a more mature and hardened princess but still showed a sense of hope and happiness. With her, the Happy Hotel had true meaning.
But now, with Charlie left to succumb in tears, Vaggie felt like she was drowning in a sea of darkness. She couldn't imagine a world without Charlie's light, optimism, and endless hope. And yet, here she was, in a Hell that seemed to be losing its colors. Vaggie knew she had to be strong, for Charlie's sake. But it was hard, so hard, to do it alone.
And not to mention, that was what Vaggie didn't understand the most.
Heaven
Vaggie glanced at the piece of paper, which was Metatron's message to Charlie. It was crumpled and worn, evidence of how many times Vaggie had read it over the past few hours. Even she couldn't help but feel angry at the situation.
Once more, Vaggie grabbed the letter and read it over again, hoping to make some sense of it. But the words remained the same, and the message was unchanged.
Your Majesty Lucifera Morningstar: Daughter Of
Helel
Lucifer Morningstar and Heir To The Throne of Inferno.
"I must confess that it is somewhat surprising to receive news from the depths of Hell expressing a desire to redeem sinners. Your compassion is commendable, and it is heartening to see that there are those in your realm who seek the path of righteousness.
"Both Seraphim Sera and Seraphim Emily expressed their surprise to me that you wish seek the redemption for your own subjects. When it comes to your kind, they tend to express full-on xenophobia, racism and blatant hatred based on our wings. Not to mention they often seek to destroy us by any means necessary."
"And here I am afraid that I must decline your plea to redeem the sinners."
"We sent your plead to the Archangels and Heavenly Council (That's our legislative body). Although we witnessed a somewhat support to your wishes, we still heard a lot of negative arguments against you, especially by Azrael, who was very vocal to your "Meddling in Heaven's Affairs"
"As the Voice of God and a representative of the Heavenly Covenant, my duties require me to maintain a strong stance between us, Hell, Earth and Purgatory realms. While your intentions are noble, the hostile relations between our realms prevent us from interfering in the affairs of Hell, as it could be seen as a breach of our "Acheron Accord".
"I have faith that you will continue to do what is right and just. Perhaps someday the hostility between our realms will dissipate, and we can work together towards a common goal of salvation for all. Until then, Archangel Azrael's Exorcists shall handle the "overpopulation" problem in your Hell."
"May God's grace be with you."
Sincerely,
Metatron, the Voice of God
"No way he wrote it like this." Vaggie muttered to herself as she ran a hand through her hair.
Vaggie couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off about the message. Metatron was known to be the voice of God...the voice of God doesn't write diplomatic messages. It was Archangel Gabriel who mostly dealt with diplomatic envoys if needed. Plus, Metatron wrote God's commands. His writing has always been so elegant and illustrious...and this writing is so out of character for Metatron...which leaves Vaggie to conclude one thing:
This message is total bullshit.
Vaggie glanced at her Exorcist Spear, which was lying on the dresser...and that gave her an idea. The Empyrean Silver in Heaven is what "Blessed Weapons" refers to here in Hell. The material has enough divine and supernatural power to vaporize the sinner's or Hellborn's soul to nothing. But it's also a fact that Empyrean Steel has a weird side effect on Angelic Ink.
Like humans, angels write on papyrus with ink that can disappear and reappear when needed. If you press the Empyrean silver against the ink, it could disrupt the ink’s effect. Hence, the idea got in Vaggie's mind.
"Ok...that might work." Vaggie grabbed her spear from the dresser. She pressed the tip of the spear against the words written in angelic ink, and as expected, the ink started to fade away. As Vaggie continued to apply pressure, the letters slowly disappeared until there was nothing left but a blank sheet of parchment.
And with a secret message.
39.97291055131899
-83.00720214843751
Humming in suspense, Vaggie grabbed her phone and quickly jotted down the coordinates on her Hoogle app. It turns out the coordinates pinpoint Hazbin Hotel's courtyard...
"Very clever..." Vaggie muttered, expecting as much. She anticipated that the message may have been deliberately hidden. And so without a moment's hesitation, Vaggie headed out of the hotel room, determined to uncover the truth behind the mysterious coordinates.
As she stepped into the courtyard of the Hazbin Hotel, she looked around, trying to spot any clues or signs that might lead her to the next step. And here she noticed a fallen apple tree, which, due to Lust's hurricane, went as far as Pride Ring a week ago.
Vaggie approached the tree and examined it closely, noticing a small box in the tree's hole. She carefully reached inside the hole and retrieved the box, which was small and made of typical metal. It had an intricate design carved into its surface. The Moth Demon hesitated for a moment before opening it, wondering what kind of trap or surprise might be waiting for her inside.
"What’s that? Your secret stash, huh?"
Vaggie quickly got up on her feet, made a sharp turn, and aimed her spear at the offender, only to realize that it was a friend.
That demon is a cycloptic sinner with long blonde hair that has pink and white accents, a ponytail, and wears a large amount of mascara. Her sclera is bloodshot pink with a pale yellow, X-shaped pupil. She has pale skin with pink freckles on her face and right shoulder. She possesses a sleeve tattoo along her right arm in the imagery of bombs and explosions.
She primarily wears a black, fingerless satin glove on her left arm, a tattered red off-shoulder crop top with an X over the left bust, a black bra underneath, a red, tattered miniskirt with two buttons on the front with one loose suspender, and tattered, black leggings. Lastly, she wears a red boot on her left foot with shite striped on the top, while on the right, a white and red sock, implying that she lost her other boot.
"Oh, Cherri. Sorry about that." Vaggie breathed in, touching her chest in relief. She won't lie, but Cheri managed to scare her enough...with Cain and Alastor in the vicinity, Vaggie can't help it.
Cherri Bomb chuckled. "No worries, V. What's inside, anyway?"
Vaggie hesitated for a moment before replying. "I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out."
Cherri Bomb smirked in response. "Alright, alright. You can keep your secrets, buzzkill. I won't tell anyone about your secret stash of Charlie nudes or some shit."
"...And I take it you're here for Fat Nuggets?" Vaggie rolled her eyes, holding her anger at bay.
"Already took care of him." Cherri Bomb then made her way to the fallen tree and sat on it, taking out the detonator in the meantime. "Actually, I was hoping to talk with you, V."
"No, Cherri, I told you you wouldn't be blowing the Hotel up." Vaggie hissed slightly at that.
"Whoa, whoa, relax, that was just a joke, buzzkill." Cherri raised her hands in defense. "I didn't literally mean that...yet."
"Alright, what is it?" Vaggie relaxed a little but still kept a firm grip on her spear.
"Angie and I hung out a bit today. He mentioned that Three Bitches and Shit-Lord himself visited the hotel this morning. Apparently Mr.TV got penned or something."
"Yeah, Charlie's dad stabbed his overlord with a pen."
"That's... something alright." Cherri admitted she definitely would have loved to see that. "But so what happened after that? I see the Hotel still standing there, so...how did it end with Charlie's daddy?"
Vaggie sighed, joining Cherri on the fallen tree. To say it's quite a tale is an understatement.
"Basically...We're fucked, Cherri."
"Like a "nuclear bomb is dropping on us" fucked?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Vaggie smirked, agreeing with improvisation. "Charlie's dad revoked our royal privileges from us. Now we have to pay taxes...plus a debt."
"Royal privileges?" Cherri mockingly repeated. "Pfff, what's this, New South Wales on steroids?"
"You may laugh. But it allowed us to handle ourselves." Vaggie muttered in a bitter tone. "And we need to come up with a way to pay off the debt and the taxes. We don't have much time, though. Charlie's Uncle gave us a deadline of one month."
"That's not a lot of time. Still, by chance. If your Hotel fails. What are you planning to do?"
"Stick with Charlie, I guess. Why?"
"Me and Angie talked a bit about it..." Cherri Bomb would stand up from the tree, noting the time. She then pushed a button on her detonator, with a slight delay in the shockwave that came from the Three Vees' territories. "We came to the agreement that the Three Vees are not as strong as we thought. I think that we can take them down once and for all, with your help, of course."
"Just that, huh?" Vaggie didn't trust Cherri with the reasons. "What's the catch?"
"Well...aside from Angie being able to free himself from that piece of shit Valentino. But what if there was...say... "a change of management" in the Vees...that led them to become simply as."
"V"
"Which is you, Vaggie."
Vaggie immediately got up on her feet after hearing this, baffled. "You want me to take over Three Vees?!"
Cherri nodded, a sly smile on her face. "Think about it: all that power in the Pentagram. You could help your girlfriend more, and we wouldn't have to worry about any of Valentino's, Vox’s or Velvette’s shitheads."
"And what about you? Where do you come into that plan?"
"Nah, Ovelording over Pentagram is not my cup of dynamite. I prefer anarchism more. But having you as an Overlord and friend will make things easier for me...a lot."
Vaggie was hesitant, but the thought of having more power to help Charlie and her friends was tempting. But Vaggie as Overlord...just no.
"Being an Overlord is a curse, Cherri. So much power can corrupt your own soul..I won't want to see myself becoming like Valentino." Vaggie sighed. The Moth Demon remained silent for a moment, thinking it over, but ultimately she had to decline this absurd idea. "I'm sorry, Cherri. I'm not against helping Angel, but I won't assume the Vees's place. Let their rotten criminal empire die in fire."
"I respect your choice, V. But you do realize that Vox's henchman, Killavolt, will probably take over after the Vees are gone? He, unlike Mr. TV is far more aggressive."
"I know...but it's a cycle of Overlords, they arrive and go as time demands. Like I said, Cherri. No."
"Suit yourself. But just remember, we have a chance to take the Vees down once and for all. Don't let it slip away. And if you change your mind about taking over the Vees, you know where to find us, always." Cherri Bomb smiled, only to focus on her surroundings as she heard a lot of shouting. "Ah, Crap. Must be Valentino's henchmen pursuing me. Well, gotta go and blow some more stuff. See you back at the Hotel later, Buzzkill!"
Cherri Bomb pulled out a grenade launcher and laughed like a maniac as she rushed to the nearest fight. Vaggie watched Cherri Bomb run off into the chaos, feeling a concern for her friend. But still, Vaggie knew Cherri could take care of herself. But for now, it's back to the mysterious box.
Vaggie would return to the hotel before Cherri Bomb would cause another bombardment run of Pentagram City. She did not delay getting herself into their shared room with Charlie. She laid the box on the table and checked the lock mechanism on it. The chip reader mechanism is rather unusual and rare tech for Hell. But luckily, Vaggie has the right tool for this.
The Moth Demon walked towards their closet to get another box full of her personal belongings. Most of the inside was an emergency packet, like an additional blessed pistol if her spear was compromised, some medical kits manufactured by Heaven's Military Industrial Complex, repair kits for the suit, and of course the thing that Vaggie wanted.
The Chip
"Let's hope you still work, viejo amigo." Vaggie sighed, reliving the old memories...feels like a past life for her.
She got up, went back, and inserted her old chip into the reader slot. There was a slight delay before it pinged green, unlocking the box. Vaggie's heart raced as she lifted the lid of the box. Inside, she found even more questions: a letter, some kind of document, and...a uniform? Vaggie blinked twice at that, not sure where to start. She grabbed the letter to start with it.
Finishing the letter, Vaggie reached for folder that letter mentions. She opened it to check what's inside.
VOLUME No: #618
Copy No: #13
The Princess Of Hell
By Agent Codename: Genesis
"The Eye Of Providence"
Empyrean, The Heavenly Covenant <5121>
Attn: "Detective of Demonic Crimes Against Humanity" Officer
This document is available to:
C.I.A (DENIED)
F.S.B (DENIED)
M.S.S (DENIED)
D.H.O.R.K.S (DENIED)
E.O.P's Earth Branch [Codename: Illuminati] (DENIED)
This case contributes to a request under the "Covenant Act" as amended (5, E.O.P, section 20512)
Director [TOP SECRET]
By your request, I compiled all of the known material on [SUBJECT] in one folder and pended for review by our chain command.
We confirm [THE HAZBIN HOTEL] is not secret operation by Inferno to seed chaos into [THE COVENANT]. It's created by [SUBJECT]'s own decision, not influenced by the internal mechanisms. The surveillance team also remarks that [SUBJECT]'s rating of approval dropped ever since the opening of [HOTEL]. The online engagement on [SUBJECT] is often shows a negative evaluation and offensive slurs.
We cannot acknowledge if subject is having similar antigovernmental thought like [EDEN SNAKE] or [WARLORD], but behavioral cycle suggests that subject is willing to cooperate for the sake of healing old wounds of [LIMBO CRISIS].
I request to commence the operation [DANTE INFERNO] for direct contact with the [SUBJECT].
Should [SUBJECT] cooperate, we commence with standard procedure.
Should [SUBJECT] not, [JUDGEMENT WAIVER] shall be commenced on the next [EXTERMINATION]
Vaggie's expression turned sour as she read through the classified document. She had always known that there were forces at play beyond what she could see, but seeing it spelled out in black and white was still unnerving.
"The Eye of Providence...of course." She muttered it under her nose, trying to wrap her head around the implications of the document.
There is old saying: If you want Heaven to play dirty: send Exorcists. If you want it behind your back: send the Agents of Providence. Vaggie knew that the Heavenly Covenant had always been wary of Hell and its denizens, but to actively seek out contact with her and potentially use her as a pawn in their political games was a new low for her.
Sighing, she tossed the document back and made a mental note to keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior from the Heavenly Covenant. She couldn't let them use her or the Hotel for their own gain. But for now, she checked the next item that "Mysterious Benefactor" provided. Like earlier mentioned, it's a weird uniform.
Vaggie grabbed it before noticing a little photo fell off from the suit. Curious, she picked up the photo and examined it closely. The picture is an Exorcist's graduation group photoshoot. At the center was Adam's lackey, Knight-Lieutenant "Lute". To the left of her was Knight-Junior Lieutenant "Deadeye": ranged weaponry teacher, and to the right of Lute was Knight-Captain "Doom": a teacher of melee fighting.
Vaggie's eyes focused on the particular Exorcist that was crouching down for the group pose in the photo, holding her spear. She bit her lip, feeling that it might be...before it she turning it around. and it was here that Vaggie grabbed another set, that she recognized it.
Exorcist Graduation Photo: 2016 AD
Vaggie felt an sweat forming her head, feeling she knows where it's going. She grabbed another photo to confirm her worst fears.
Source: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e0/4c/1b/e04c1bf7d442117c12a9ba8ecd558af0.jpg
And a written message bellow it.
"The Providence Doesn't Forget, VM-XXI-14."
"Mierda!"
Breathing sharply, Vaggie ripped that photo apart in a million pieces and took a deep breath to calm herself down...the memories still sent shivers down her spine.
"What are you really planning, Providence?" Vaggie tried to piece together the clues.
*Harsh Knock*
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. Sighing, she quickly hid the uniform and the torn photo under her bed before going to answer it. Opening the door, Vaggie found out that guest wasn't standing on the door but rather leaning against the wall, facing directly into Charlie's room.
"Sup, mothy." Cain said apathetically.
"Your majesty." Vaggie cleared her throat, not wanting to start trouble with Charlie's cousin.
"Don't patronize me," Cain grumped as he entered without even asking. Vaggie reluctantly stepped aside and let him in. Cain slowly walked over to the bed and slumped down onto it, his eyes scanning the room before finally settling on Vaggie. "Your room is shit."
"Is there something you need, or did you just come to insult our living arrangements?" Vaggie was in no mood for Cain's attitude.
"Got bored, I guess. Decided to see your stuff all around. I won't lie, but Apple Daddy was right. The entire hotel is a fucking circus." Cain shrugged. He then snorted at her. "You have a walking child-bait who wanted me to sign an autograph on her chest."
"Niffty is not a child. She is an adult," Vaggie corrected him.
"Sure, if you say so...still fucking Loli bait to me," Cain huffed. "But whatever, I'm just here to keep an eye on things for Uncle. He's worried about Charlie getting in over her head. The old angel thinks Charlie needs some supervision...and who better to do it than his favorite nephew/adopted son?"
Vaggie didn't like the sound of that. She knew that Lucifer was powerful and unpredictable, and having his nephew watching their every move was not comforting. But she knew better than to argue with Cain. For now, she would just have to keep her guard up and be extra careful around him.
"Charlie doesn't need any supervision. She's perfectly capable of handling things on her own," Vaggie said firmly.
"Hey, I'm just the messenger. But you know how Uncle is. He likes to keep an eye on everything," Cain said with a shrug.
Vaggie sighed, knowing that Cain had a point. Lucifer was a powerful and influential demon, and he had a tendency to meddle in the affairs of others, even when he wasn't needed.
"Fine. But don't get in Charlie's way or cause any trouble while you're here."
"Me? Cause trouble? Naahh...never in my life," Cain grinned.
Vaggie rolled her eyes, not believing a word of it. She knew that Cain had a reputation for causing trouble and had a troubled past, as the biblical story of him and his brother illustrated.
"Is there something you really want? If not, I kindly ask you to leave Charlie's room, Cain." Vaggie said, her tone indicating her impatience.
"Quit busting your tits, Mothy," Cain said as he raised himself up from the bed, removing his aviators to reveal his bloody eyes, which made Vaggie feel a bit tense. "I know, pretty badass aviators, right?"
Cain hopped off the bed and walked up to the mirror, where he could see his own reflection despite being a Vampire Lord. "So...Vaggie, right? Did anyone ever tell you that you have a stupid name?"
"My name is Vagatha." Vaggie gritted her teeth, trying her best to remain calm.
"Vagatha? Damn, that's even worse." Cain chuckled and turned around to face her, still grinning. "Anyway, when do you think Charlie will be back?"
"I'm not sure...Charlie can be very unpredictable when she's...sad."
Cain's expression softened slightly. "Yeah, you don't know the half of it. Imagine this: fate kicks you right in the balls. Your own Daddy disowns you, and Mommy doesn't want to talk to you. All that's left is grief and self-exile to fuck-nowhere...no one believes you, and they write shite about you in the future...that's what Charlie experienced."
"I think you're projecting, Cain." Vaggie wasn't stupid and could see that Cain was talking about himself.
"Right, because some fancy religious book told you so?" Cain responded with a hint of passive aggression. "Yeah, well, maybe I am a bit of a troublemaker in the grand scheme of things. But it's not like anyone else here is a saint, am I right?"
Vaggie sighed. "That's not the point. The point is that Charlie is going through a tough time right now, and we need to be there for her. So if you're not here to help, then please leave."
The First Murderer didn't respond to that; instead, he brought a lighter and a cigar, lighting them up and taking a puff before exhaling a cloud of smoke.
"Apparently, it turns out you're Charlie's girlfriend."
"That's not your business."
Cain chuckled. "Oh, but it does, Vaggie. You know, Charlie's sorrow that you have seen today is nothing compared to when she and Seviathan broke up after a wave of disagreements. Then out of nowhere, you came into her life and were all "kissy-kissy" to her...makes me wonder." Here, Cain would lean closer, making sure Vaggie would hear it quite well. "Who are you really, Vaggie?"
Vaggie didn't flinch at Cain's proximity, but she was definitely on guard...and tensed. Cain took another puff of his cigar, exhaling the smoke slowly.
"You're pretty knowledgeable for an average sinner, Ms. Vagatha. Not only are you familiar with the history of the Overlords, as I was told by that Grandpa Whiskers, but now it turns out you're quite familiar with the messages of Heaven. My point is, there's more to you than meets the eye. You didn't just show up here out of nowhere, did you?"
"That's none of your business either." Vaggie tensed up, not wanting to talk about her past.
"Everything in Hell is someone's business, Vaggie." Cain chuckled darkly. "And I have a feeling that your past is more interesting than you're letting on."
"I don't see how my past is relevant to Charlie's situation." Vaggie crossed her arms, standing her ground.
The First Murderer chuckled at that, admiring the bravery.
"Stop twisting your panties, Mothy. It's true that it's none of my business. I'm just some ordinary vampire demon trying to make my way in this crazy wacky Hell....but still." Cain's expression immediately changed to a more sinister one. "Let me give a warning to you, Mothy. I see that Charlie is happy with you...but if you break her heart."
"I will find your parents."
"I will find your ancestors"
"I will find all of your descendants going straight to Seth himself."
"And most importantly:"
"I will find you, and I will give you my "Abel's special" treatment."
Vaggie remained silent once again, but she gave a small nod to indicate that she understood Cain's intentions. Given his reputation, it was likely that he would honor his words, but Vaggie couldn't help but feel uneasy around him. Luckily, Charlie soon arrived back at the hotel and entered the room, letting her presence be known to Vaggie and Cain.
"Vaggie, can we-" Charlie stopped herself as soon as she saw Cain in the room. "Cain? What are you doing here in my room?"
"Thought I'd come say hi to your girlfriend, little cuz." Cain grinned.
"Uh-huh...by threatening her?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.
Cain shrugged nonchalantly. "You know me, C.M. A casual threat to their life never hurts someone."
Vaggie's eyes narrowed at Cain's words, but she chose not to respond. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, instead addressing Charlie.
"Your cousin is a dick, Charlie."
"And you're a cunt, Vagatha. But who knows, maybe we will fit right in."
"W-why YOU-...ugggh!" Vaggie nearly burst out but managed to control himself...she can thank Angel Dust for this.
Charlie would come closer and lay her hand on Vaggie's shoulder, preferring to stick with the important questions. "Don't mind him. How's the hotel, Vaggie?"
"How's the hotel?!" Vaggie baffled by this question. "More important is how you're doing after you left us, Charlie? And-" The Moth Demon noticed that Charlie's left hand is bandaged up completely. "Mio Dio, what happened to your hand?"
Charlie looked down at her hand and let out a deep sigh. As much as she wanted to confide in Vaggie about her deal with a God of Hell, she couldn't bear the thought of worrying her. For now, it is more important to focus on the devil's message and find a way to make progress.
"It's nothing, love," Charlie said with a forced smile. "Just a small burn. Some thugs attacked me, but I managed to take care of them. I was a little reckless towards the end and got a minor burn, nothing serious."
Vaggie's skeptical expression didn't go unnoticed by Charlie, but she didn't want to delve into the topic any further.
"Really, Vaggie. I'll be fine," Charlie assured, before glancing at Cain, who had been silently observing their conversation. "Cain, do you know when and where the funeral for Ars Bael will occur?"
"It's taking place near Pandemonium, in the valley of Ars Belial in the next two hours," Cain replied with a shrug. "What, you planning to attend and give Bael a final 'fuck you' or something, C.M?"
Charlie rolled her eyes at Cain's crude remark. "No, I have something that might help us, and attending the funeral is the only way to get started."
Vaggie looked concerned. "Are you sure it's a wise decision, Charlie?"
Charlie's eyes darkened as she considered the consequences of failure. "I know it's a gamble, Vaggie, but we can't just sit back and do nothing. We have to take action, no matter what. I won't let Heaven stop me from doing what's right."
Vaggie nodded in understanding. "I trust you, hon. But when you come back, we need to discuss matters regarding Heaven. I have something that might interest you."
"Thank you so much, Vaggie," Charlie said, the gratitude evident in her voice as she flashed her friend a small but heartfelt smile. She took Vaggie's hands in hers and held them tightly, feeling a sense of comfort and reassurance from the warmth of her girlfriend's grip. "Your unwavering support means everything to me."
Vaggie returned the squeeze, her own eyes shining with a mixture of pride and affection.
"I'll always be here for you, hon," Vaggie said softly, her words laced with sincerity. "No matter what happens, you can count on me."
Cain's derisive snort interrupted the tender moment, and Charlie couldn't help but feel annoyed at his lack of sensitivity.
"Don't mind him," Charlie gave Cain a pointed look. "He's just being his usual self."
"Get a room, you two. Oh wait...nevermind." Cain snickered.
Ignoring Cain's muttered comment, Charlie turned back to Vaggie. "I have to leave now for the funeral, but I promise I'll be back as soon as possible."
Vaggie pulled Charlie into a quick hug, holding her tightly for a few moments before releasing her.
"Be careful, Charlie," she said, her voice filled with concern.
Charlie smiled at her friend's words, before turning to leave with Cain at her heels. As they walked, Cain's words of caution broke the silence.
"You know your father won't approve of this, right?" Cain's tone was measured but serious.
Charlie rolled her eyes, feeling a familiar surge of frustration at the mere mention of her father. "I don't care about what my dad thinks. This is my decision, and I'm going to see it through."
Cain chuckled at her words, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Don't underestimate your father's power. He's the King of Hell, after all."
"I know. But I can't just stand by and watch as he controls everything. I have to try to make a difference, no matter how small." Charlie nodded, her expression serious.
"But you do realize that I'll have to report to Lucifer if you leave my sight."
Charlie stopped in her tracks, her arms crossed, as she turned to face Cain.
"Will you, though?" She dared, her tone challenging.
Cain met her gaze evenly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. He had always been drawn to Charlie's confidence, even in the face of danger.
"Can't say no to a fucking fallen angel, Charlie" He replied with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Well, good thing you won't lose sight of me then," Charlie grinned, implying that Cain will accompany her to the funeral.
"Ha, you've got balls, cousin!" Cain chuckled. "Normally, I'd pass on the funeral. Too many boring speeches and not enough violence for my taste...might as well find a fancy Goetian chick to mess with."
"Ew, Cain. I never thought you were an avianphile," Charlie laughed, teasing him about his supposed attraction to Goetian women.
"I meant to provoke the Goetian snobs...I wouldn't touch one with a ten-foot pole." Cain retorted with a smirk.
"Whatever you say, cuz." Charlie grinned as the two continued their walk in silence. As they left the entrance to the hotel, Charlie took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come. But first things first... "So, how are we going to travel to Pandemonium without my dad sniffing us out?"
"Not the brightest bulb in Hell, are you, Charlie?" Cain teased, a sly grin forming on his face. He flicked his fingers, and a massive aura surrounded them, causing a sleek black car to materialize before their eyes. It was the Porsche 911 II (930) Turbo , to be exact.
"Nice car, Cain," Charlie exclaimed, whistling in admiration.
"You don't know this baby until you take a seat in it, Charlie," Cain replied, putting back his aviators. "Buckle up; we're going for a ride to Pandemonium."
Charlie flashed a grin at the car before sliding into the passenger seat, taking in the luxurious leather interior. "I have to admit, I didn't expect this kind of ride," she said.
"Well, when you and I are big shots in Hell, you get to have some perks...but aren't you forgetting something?" Cain smirked.
"Like what?" Charlie asked, slightly confused.
Cain raised his hand and summoned another pair of aviators, this time just for her. With a smile, Charlie grabbed them and put them on.
"How do I look in them?" She asked, trying to keep a straight face in aviators.
"Like you're about to commit the worst patricide ever and rule Hell with an iron fist." Cain joked, grinning back at her. He reached for the CD player panel and turned on the music. "Ever loved rock?" he asked.
"Come on, Cain. I was born with your rock music. 'Resist and Disorder' is still my favorite piece you and Mom have ever created!" Charlie replied.
"Eh, it was too on the nose," Cain quipped, grabbing the cassette and inserting the disk into the reader. "I prefer some old-school stuff."
He turned up the volume, and the car was soon filled with the sound of Rob Zombie's "Demon Speeding . Charlie bobbed her head to the beat once, agreeing that it was a classic.
"Cain, I recall you mentioning something about being 'top of the world' before?" Charlie asked, trying to make conversation over the blaring music.
"Ever feel like you're at the top of fucking Hell?" Cain replied, his bloody eyes flashing with excitement. He reached for the ignition key and started the engines.
"Yeah...I feel like I'm the motherfucking Empress of Hell right now! Hit that gas and roll out, Cain!" Charlie exclaimed, her adrenaline pumping.
"Damn fucking right, my cousin in Eden!" Cain high-fived Charlie, and then hit the gas pedal hard. The Porsche shot forward with a burst of speed, making a sharp turn with Cain's reckless but impressive driving before they entered Pentagram City.
The car tore through the winding roads of Hell, with Charlie and Cain whooping and hollering as they enjoyed the ride. The wind whipped through their hair, and the music blared from the speakers as they raced towards their destination. No sinner dared to complain; no one dared to mess with Charlie right now.
As they approached the towering skyscrapers of the city, Charlie couldn't help feeling uplifted. Most of the time, she spent worrying and stressing about so many things.
♪⛧ (Hey, hey, hey, hey) ⛧♪
♪⛧I'm demon speeding (Hey, hey, hey, hey)⛧♪
But here, with Cain by her side.
♪⛧ I'm demon speeding (Hey, hey, hey, hey) ⛧♪
Charlie can at least for while feel like...
♪⛧ I'm demon speeding (Hey, hey, hey, hey) ⛧♪
She doesn't give a dam about anything!
♪⛧ I'm demon speeding! ⛧♪
Notes:
What a quality time with your cousin, I'm right?
But man, If I had some spare money, I would have loved to commission a fanart of Cain and Charlie rocking to the music in the car with their aviators on! Because Holy shit, it sounds cool as fuck!
Chapter 26: In Ars, There is Goetia
Summary:
"You built an empire beyond imagining. The pinnacle of Goetian achievement and the envy of the Heaven....did you think it would last? The eternal Lemegeton...a glorious monument to power, culture and learning. But the old bird lies wounded; by wolves, circled by harpies. Worried to death by a thousand, tiny vicious beaks— brought low by your own arrogance. These are the death throes of Ars Goetia. The light of civilization dims and gutters. And if such precious time left to hide your hens, for your nestlings to cry, even at the moment of your final defeat, you will take no comfort in void....for I am coming for you, Ars Belial. I HUNT WITH A MILLION HOUNDS! I BRING WAR TO YOUR DOMAIN!! I-AM-THE SCOURGE-OF-GOETIA...And I will watch your underworld...BURN!" - Lycaon, Alpha-Khan of the Hellhounds and Scourge of Ars Goetia (231,107 BC)
Notes:
Couple Of Warnings:
1) Now then, let me address Azathoth in the room. With this chapter creeping into Ars Goetia's territory, it of course involves about Stollas and Stella aswell. I’m aware that the fandom is having "hot topics" in regard to Stolas and Stella’s situation, and I get that. But again, as per usual, I stick to "Author neutrality" on that matter. All characters' opinions are based on their beliefs, not mine. Some support Stella because they see Stolas as a pathetic Prince of Goetia, others are sympathetic to Stolas because Stella is a raging bitch; others blame their parents, etc.
2) There is a use of "F-word" in the chapter...you know the one. Again, it's done not of ill intent but just to show how Goetias tend to be...snobbish.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
September 21, 2025, AD (102 Days Before the Next Purge), 12:03 PM.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Pentagram City/Near the checkpoint of Hell's 666 Elevator Transit.
"Hey, you! Yes, you!"
"Are you a Demon in your 30s and still not in the top leagues of the Greed Ring?"
"You still don't have hot Succubus babes around to smooch you over with their titties?!"
"Well now, my young demon! Your problem is that you don't embrace the Grindset Culture!"
"That's why we in the G.R.E.E.D. Corporation proudly announce a new online school for all aspiring entrepreneurs!"
"Only for 300,000 souls per month, and you will get access to the best lessons that were overviewed by our King Mammon himself!"
"Join today and you get an additional bonus lesson, such as:"
"Lessons in Crypto trade!"
"Sigma male mindset!"
"Lessons in demon-trafficking...how you can be a good Hustler if you don't do it!?"
"Remember Kids: The only thing that matters in this existence is money and power. Fuck everything and everyone else! For Greed is all you need!"
"♪ "The G.R.E.E.D Corporation: Give us your money! ♪ "
"Disclaimer: The G.R.E.E.D Corporation doesn't take any responsibility for your fuck-ups...sue all you want; we don't give a shit!"
"Man...this sucks." The Inspector of Pride's Security Checkpoint sighed to himself, hands on the table supporting his head, as he watched the endless wave of advertisements. "Nothing but online gurus these days..."
"Look, Shmucks! If you want to be jealous, at least do it quietly." Complained another Inspector, who is observing what is happening outside...bored too.
The Inspector of Pride's Security checkpoint looked up and rolled his eyes. "I'm not jealous, Killbane. I just think it's ridiculous that demons are willing to pay so much for these so-called 'lessons'."
"If demons want to waste their souls on that nonsense, it's not my problem. Still, I prefer a fucking better alternative than this fucking job!" Killbane leaned against the wall with crossed arms. "Not to mention the bills, have you heard about the recent increase in taxes for demons in the Wrath Ring? It's ridiculous."
"Yeah, me too. Ever since they cut our paycheck...more and more I'm thinking of signing off on a military contract for that "Special Operation" in Limbo." Shmucks complained.
The Inspector Killbane raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? You could end up getting yourself killed."
"It's better than barely making ends meet." Shmucks shrugged. "Look, I tried to apply to Militech because I have skills with guns. And still they rejected me, stating they only take the best of the best in the private military sector."
"What about the other company...something immediate masturbation porn?" Killbane scratched his groin with his baton.
"It's immediate murder professionals, you idiot." Shmucks scowled at him. "And no, they don't have applications... I think there was a single time they had, and in one of the perks categories, it said "Moxxie's Anus :)" or something...I have no clue what that meant."
"...that's weird." Killbane didn't know what to say.
"Yeah...well...Limbo it is then." Shmucks scratched his chin, switching the channel to something else. "Plus, the payout is huge."
The Inspector leaned back in his chair, considering Shmucks' words. "I don't know, man. Going into the frontlines for that...that's a big gamble. And besides, last I heard, nothing good comes from Limbo's battlefields."
"How so?"
"My sister's boyfriend went there as a part-time "gig" and wrote some messages back and forth. And good Satan what he wrote to her. Apparently, the rebels have a fucking arsenal of blessed weapons and heavy equipment. Some of the stuff he wrote was insane: hovering rebel tanks that fire weird lasers at our positions. Their troops wear high-tech armor. And how they fight so professionally...it's not some small warband of renegades...it's a fucking massive rebellion."
"That doesn't sound good." Shmucks whistled at that, grabbing a cup of coffee straight from the Envy Ring.
"Yeah, but it doesn't stop here. There are rumors that the leader of the rebels is none other than Moxxara herself."
"Legatus Moxxara "Furiosa" herself?!" Shmucks nearly spilled out, swallowing it up. "Unholly shit! She was my dad's childhood hero! But how?! I thought she was mob lynched by degenerated imps who dared to say no to our Lord Satan back in what? 1968?"
"That's what we all thought in The Wrath Ring." Replied Killbane, confused. "But apparently from what he wrote, Satan's Legions gossip around that she is alive and went into hiding or some shit. Now she's leading this rebellion against our infernal government. It's a real mess down there, and if I were you, I'm not sure I want to get involved."
"Man that sucks..." Shmucks shook his head. "Devildammit...I could have gone, squashed another stupid rebellion, and gone home with a massive paycheck. And now a phantom of the greatest warlord of our time is haunting that place!"
Inspector Killbane sighed. "Look, I understand, but Limbo is not a place for the faint of heart. If you do decide to go, make sure you have proper equipment and training. And don't underestimate the rebels; they are not to be taken lightly. But on one side, we're doing important work here. Keeping the Pride Ring safe is no easy task."
Shmucks scoffed. "Important work? More like sitting our asses off to this useless job. I mean, what's the point now that Sinners are FULLY forbidden in the other rings? I get that for the Pandemonium case, but since they banned them too, what's the point?"
*Beep-Beep*
"Hey, fuckheads, let us through!"
Both Killbane and Shmucks looked out the window and saw an expensive car waiting for the roadblock to rise.
"And speaking off that...we now have fucking royal snobs." Shmucks muttered, getting up from his chair.
"Shut your mouth already." Killbane had enough of his complaints, shutting him up.
As they walked towards the car, Shmuck would come into the car's window, kneeling a bit to talk with the driver. And as expected, the driver and the passenger are the Prince and Princess of Inferno, Charlie and Cain, respectively. They are both wearing aviators for some reason.
"Ah, your majesties. What brings you here?"
"Going to your mom's house to give her a good rump, buckaroo." Cain taunted, annoyed. Even Charlie had to block her mouth to hide the smile. "Now let us through, already!"
"I'm going to need to see some identification first, sir." Shmucks rolled his eyes at Cain's crude remark...fucking royalty.
For this, Cain grabbed the imp by his uniform and brought his face closer to his, removing the aviators to reveal his bloody eyes.
"How's that?" Cain dared.
"...Go on trough, sir." Shmucks got the memo. For his cooperation, Cain let him go, and Shmucks quickly backed away from Cain. Wasting no time, he waved for the roadblock to be lifted, allowing the car to pass through.
As Cain's car drove off, Killbane turned to Shmucks with a stern expression.
"You do realize they will fine us for that?"
Shmucks blinked twice at that, realizing they would have another paycheck reduction, just like five years ago when that smiley sinner passed through. Hence, Inspector fully turned himself over to his colleague before delivering everything he feels right now.
"Fuck this job?"
"Fuck this job, Shmucks." Killbane slowly nodded.
"Yeah, fuck this job! Let us get some Hellhound asses in the strip club and show them why we are proud sons of Imperious!"
"Damn right, my brother in Satan!"
The two Imps high-fived before they threw their badgers away and just went away from the posts, neither giving a single fuck at this point.
You know what they say.
Hell is full of stories and the untold tales of many.
Charlie glanced back, seeing that these two left the post. As much as she finds it badass, she still doesn't appreciate Cain being a total jerk every now and then.
"You know, you could have been nicer to them."
"So?" Cain was busy bringing their car inside the cargo elevator.
"...Nevermind what I said." Charlie sighed, shaking her head before going silent once more...no point arguing with him.
As the elevator doors closed, the lights would turn on as the elevator started to move. Each time a ring passed, the speaker announced the current level. It would not be long before they reached their level.
"Welcome home, Hellborns. Pandemonium welcomes you back to Home Ring."
The massive doors of the elevator opened, and the outside world welcomed the cold temperatures of the Ring. Charlie, once more, after so many years not being in the Old Ring of Hell, is back here.
Pandemonium
The once-great capital city of Inferno had seen better days. Once a sprawling metropolis of demons, it still loomed large over the horizon, but it was a shadow of its former self. The city had been the heart of the demonic realm for millennia, but it was still reeling from the devastating attack by the exorcists five years ago. The skyline was now littered with the shattered remains of once-grand structures, and the streets were filled with rubble and debris.
Despite the damage, life in Pandemonium carried on. The vampire demons had adapted to their new reality, making use of the ruins to construct makeshift homes and businesses. The air was heavy with the sound of hammers and saws as the rebuilding effort continued, although progress was slow.
As they drove through the city, Charlie, watching from the window of Cain's Porsche, could see the progress of the city's restoration. Some of the buildings they passed during their travel towards the Valley of Ars Belial looked like they had been taken straight from the other Rings. The architecture was different, the colors of the buildings were different, and the general vibe was different.
"I can't believe how small the Purges of the Pentagram are compared to what happened to Pandemonium back in 2020....why didn't Dad do anything about it?" Charlie said, her voice showing frustration. The Princess of Hell couldn't help but feel irritated as she recalled the news she read about the destruction of Pandemonium five years ago. If she were in charge, she would have done everything to create a relief effort for Pandemonium. Five years was enough time to restore the city to its "old" glory.
"Heh, you should have seen the first days, C.M..." Cain said, smirking eerily as he focused on the road. "The fires were only put out because a lucky blizzard storm hit Pandemonium a week later after the sacking."
"That sounds awful." Charlie's expression turned to one of concern as she listened to Cain's words, gazing at the city through the window... "I can't imagine what it must have been like for the demons here."
"As if it changed anything..." Cain rolled his eyes. "Before the attack, Capital City fucking sucked anyway. After the attack, nothing really changed."
Charlie frowned at Cain's words. "That's not true. Pandemonium may have had its problems, but it was still our capital city."
"The last time you were here was 131 years ago," Cain reminded her. "And for the past century, it was just as shithole as it is today. After the attack, what changed, huh? Look what your uncles are doing with their rebuilding effort...just ripping this wretched city apart..."
Charlie gazed once more through the window. Many of the buildings were built in the style of, say, Envy Ring or Wrath Ring, highlighting the fact that both Uncle Leviathan and Satan had their own piece of pie called "Pandemonium."
The Princess of Hell could sense the classical rivalry between her dad and her uncles and aunt of the Deadly Sins. Cain's words struck her, and she realized that the restoration of Pandemonium was not just about rebuilding the city but also about redefining its purpose and identity.
In some aspects, Pandemonium has always been a hub of political power and influence. And now, with the city in ruins, it was a blank canvas for the different Deadly Sins to make their mark on the traditional capital of hell. The Pride demons were rebuilding grand, ornate structures in Charlie's dad's own image, while the Gluttony demons were constructing towering edifices dedicated to pleasure and indulgence under the Dominion of Gluttony. The Envy demons had taken over entire neighborhoods, constructing identical, cheap buildings that were little more than monuments to their own envy and jealousy...even Seviathan would not like these cheap and bland knockoffs from Helvana, Envy Ring.
"Everyone wants to rule the world..." Charlie murmured, reciting the lyrics from Tears for Fears's famous album. She couldn't help but feel uneasy as she took in the spectacle before her. The demons of Pandemonium were her demons, afterall... but she couldn't help but wonder if they were lost in their own self-interests and petty squabbles just like the rest of Inferno...and her dad.
"Say...you were here when it happened, right?"
"Oh, yeah. Got tipped off by Aunt Azazel that they are bringing very important "personnel" for the Capital's purge...decided to say "hi" because why not?" Cain chuckled; the memories of Exorcists' faces as he was about to kill them still lingered inside his mind. "First a blackout happened, then the Cathedral of Dis and the Stygian Council got hit first. And next thing we knew The Exorcists came in with their holy weapons, purging everything in sight. Buildings were collapsing, demons were being slaughtered left and right... It was chaos, hehe."
"That's terrible...," Charlie whispered softly, feeling a chill run down her spine at Cain's words. "I can't believe that it happened here... in our own home. Do you think it could happen again?"
Cain's expression turned serious; even irritation formed at the edges of his lips.
"I welcome her to try after she ran like a pissed baby in diapers. If they come back, I'm going to tear them apart; that would make the first time look like a fucking joke !"
Charlie flinched at Cain's sudden outburst, but she couldn't blame him for his anger...Charlie is not the only one who has a... complicated relationship with her father.
"Fucking sin of the wrath of my father in my blood... can't help it, sometimes." Cain cursed.
"It's not easy to deal with that, I know," Charlie said softly. She knows all too well the burden of being related to powerful and intimidating parents.
"Thanks, Charlie." Cain sighed, looking at her for a moment. "Now please suck up to someone else."
"Ha, you wish, Cain". Charlie rolled her eyes playfully, giving him a light shove. "I'm stuck with you, just as you are stuck with me because of my dad's bullshit games."
"Damn right... How unlucky for you, huh?" Cain smirked.
"Very much." Charlie couldn't help but smile at her cousin's passive-aggressive banter. Despite the serious nature of their conversation, they always managed to find a way to make each other laugh. It was one of the things she loved most about spending time with him.
But eventually, they would drive from Capital City's perimeter and into the dark wilderness of Blasphemy Ring. As it's still a little bit foggy and the visibility is low, Cain had to drive slowly and cautiously...which turns out to be total bullshit, as Cain gives zero fucks about the speed limit and just drives like a madman...but very skillfully.
The outskirts of the city, just before it becomes the countryside of Blasphemy Ring, are a complex set of ancient ruins, dating back to the times when Ars Goetia were the masters of Inferno. The ruins were eerie and foreboding, with twisted columns and walls covered in strange symbols and markings from forgotten times.
This is of course where Theurgia, the capital of old Ars Goetia, stood a long time ago. Pandemonium was built upon the old ruins of Ancient Inferno, which long ago was looted and scavenged.
As they drove deeper into the ruins, the road's conditions became worse. Cain slowed down a bit, but his driving was still as reckless as ever, swerving around corners and barely avoiding collisions with the ruins' twisted columns. Charlie clutched onto her seatbelt tightly for the bumpy ride, but that would not last long before they entered a small mountain tunnel passage...
And here that all of Charlie's curiosity and awestruckness increased....as her eyes now set upon the famous landmark of Blasphemy Ring.
True to its name, the Valley of Ars Belial is cut off by the impassable mountains from the rest of Blasphemy Ring, protecting this place from outsiders and potential looters.
The valley's stone walls were sheer and steep before opening into a lower valley with coarse outcroppings and rocky mountain ledges. Overlooking the lower valley were six towering monoliths in the shape of Avian Demons bowing their heads and carved into the stone seemed almost alive, their expressions twisted in a mixture of pain and submission...symbolizing the submissiveness and servitude towards the Ars of Goetia.
Cain slowed down the car as they entered the valley, giving them a chance to take in the sight before them.
"This place always gives me the creeps." He muttered, glancing nervously at the towering monoliths.
"I can see why..." Charlie replied, shivering slightly despite the warmth of the car. "But it's also kind of amazing, don't you think? To see something so ancient and powerful still standing after all these years."
Cain snorted. "Yeah, amazing...until one of those things comes to life and decides to eat us."
"Come on, Cain." Charlie rolled her eyes, but even she couldn't help the twinge of fear that gnawed at her gut. But she also couldn't deny the thrill of excitement as they drove deeper into the valley, towards the heart of the ancient ruins.
Cain would park their car near where the many carriages belonging to the Ars Goetia are parked...clearly in the ancient times of Inferno, there was no such thing as "parking lots," so Cain just decided to park wherever he wanted.
Charlie eagerly left the car first, making the first impressions to herself. She stepped out onto the rocky ground, taking in the cool mountain air as she looked around at the ruins that surrounded her. Like the ruins of Old Capital, these ruins were a mix of old stone walls, crumbling pillars, and twisted columns covered in strange symbols and markings, with the wind howled through the valley, carrying with it the whispers of the past.
The entrance to this whole ancient complex was guarded by the Goetian Legionnaires, who belonged to many Dukes of Goetia. As soon as their eyes through their plated helmets caught on Charlie, only more confusion erupted from them...good thing they had a strict "questions first, shoot later" policy...otherwise...well...since when is shooting the heir to the throne a good idea?
One of the commanders of this fancy knight regiment would come closer, bowing his head before announcing to Charlie.
"On behalf of the Goetian Electorate, we apologize for not foreseeing her majesty's arrival to Belial's resting place, your highness."
"It's quite alright," Charlie replied, her voice steady and confident. She tried to keep a straight face despite the rush of excitement and nerves she felt. "I understand that my arrival may have been unexpected. I come here to seek Astaroth."
"Of course, your highness." The commander nodded, seeming to relax a little at her words. "You can find Lord Astaroth at the end of this valley, just before the entrance to Ars Belial's Mausoleum. We have our strict orders to guard the valley for the entire funeral pyre, but we assure you that you are safe in the valley as long as you don't go into the tombs."
"Alright, thank you." Charlie nodded.
"Glory To the Eternal Inferno!" The commander once again bowed his head before departing back to overseeing the guard duties.
"So...Astaroth, huh?" Cain would come closer, with a cigar in his hand. "Out of all Goetian snobs, you decided to seek him out...why?"
"Yes, well... I need his help. It's very important." Charlie explained, avoiding Cain's gaze.
Cain raised an eyebrow, taking a puff of his cigarette. "And what might that be?"
"It's... complicated." Charlie hesitated, awkwardly rubbing her bandaged hand. She is not sure if she is ready to share the details of her deal with the Devil with Cain just yet. But Cain seemed to sense her reluctance and didn't press the matter any further.
"Well, you do you then. Have fun walking on this wretched Necropolis."
"Are you not coming?"
"Fuck no...one funeral in my time was enough for me...even the First Murderer has his limits. Now go already!" Cain shooed her away.
"And here I thought you were spying on me..." Charlie chuckled at Cain's response, understanding his aversion to the eerie surroundings.
And so, taking a deep breath, Charlie began her journey towards the end of the valley. She walked past the legionnaires, who eyed her attentively but didn't stop her, of course, and further into the valley.
Barely arriving here, Charlie couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. The monoliths loomed overhead, casting long shadows that seemed to follow her every move. The wind howled through the valley, carrying with it whispers and moans that sent shivers down her spine. The Ars Belial Mausoleum in the shape of an Egyptian Pyramid loomed over the valley. Its ancient stones seemed to have absorbed the darkness and despair of the Necropolis, making it appear even more ominous.
But Charlie had come too far to turn back now. She made her way towards it with caution, her eyes scanning the area for any signs...of hostile environment. Even though the commander assured her, Charlie saw no one guarding the middle sections of the valleys...for some reason. But on her way, Charlie noticed two Goetian birds near the entrance of some of the sideway tombs in the valley.
One Goetian Demon is a fully armored knight, similar to the Commander before but of a lesser rank, it would seem. And the other has a pissed-off face with crossed arms...that Goetian noble is a lanky, unkempt adolescent avian demon; her eyes are pink with bright white pupils, with light purple eyeshadow to go with her long eyelashes. Below each of her eyes are two tear-like streaks of eyelashes. She wears a fancy warm coat over a pink dress with light yellow stars on it, a pink choker around her neck, black leggings, and black heeled boots.
"No way..." Charlie whispered in delight. She hoped to see her here.
"Your majesty, you cannot just ignore the orders of the Electors. You must uphold the tradition of Ars Goetia!" That knight begged that young lady to see reason.
The young Goetia tsked back at the knight, clearly annoyed at him pestering her.
"Pff, yeah right...grave robbing is a good old ancient tradition of Ars Goetia. What's next?" She then air quotes. "Assassinating each other behind their daughter's back is now a new norm?"
"But that's not the point!" Knight slightly raised her voice in bafflement.
"What is in Ars Goetia?" The young Goetia showed her palm dismissively. "Look, Phios...I get that you're doing your job, but please leave me alone already...I don't need my dad holding my hand through you."
"...As you wish, princess." The Goetian Knight bowed his head before heading back to the guard patrol. The young Goetia would then turn around and look at the runic sign above the tomb entrance, rubbing her face in stress and muttering curse words.
Using the opportunity, the Princess of Hell quietly approached the young Goetia, her heart racing with excitement. She gently tipped her toe towards it before quickly covering her eyes. Charlie was lucky that this Goetia was just a head taller than Charlie, allowing her to reach her.
"Guess who, one attempt." Charlie playfully dared.
"Hmm..." The Goetian woman mischievously hummed, accepting the challenge. "Helsa Von Eldtrich?"
"Eeeww, I lost all my respect for you, Via!" Charlie joked, uncovering the woman's eyes. The young Goetia grinned widely and chuckled as she turned around to Charlie.
"Well, pluck my feathers and wear them on my hat; it's really you, Charlie!" Octavia exclaimed, giving the Princess of Hell a warm hug.
"It's so good to see you too, Via!" Charlie returned the hug.
Their hug lasted a very warm minute, with Octavia's feathers tickling and providing a huge warmth to Charlie's skin. The Princess had completely forgotten how much the Goetias can be so...fluffy.
"You look wonderful, my dear! Far better than you were in the pictures you sent me a year ago." Charlie would let go of her, but still held Octavia's arms in comfort, wanting to express how much her Goetian cousin had become a very beautiful grown-up woman.
"Thanks, I guess..." Octavia slightly blushed, rubbing her hair as Charlie let go of her completely. "It's just that my great-aunt Phenex gives me some 'health makeup' on occasion...plus some antidepressants. I don't know how, but she manages to get a supply of antidepressants straight from Earth for me."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Charlie said softly. Her smile faltered slightly as she heard this.
"It's not a big deal...It's been a bit rough at times, but I'm feeling much better these days." Octavia then shrugged. "Far better than in my teen days, that's for sure..."
"You tell me..." Charlie sympathized with that. "I still remember how, in my early days, I spent nights in my hotel, staring at the ceiling... Leaving my parents was a shockwave for me."
"Adulthood fucking sucks for us, huh?" Octavia grinned, taking a seat on a chunk of some ruined rock with ancient writing on it. They both need to catch up with each other.
"Heh, true enough." Charlie smirked, joining Octavia on the rock. "...and welcome to that "adulthood" club, Octavia."
"You're two years late for that." Octavia grinned before shaking her head slightly. "But seriously, it's good to have you here, Charlie...I could really use some friendly company right now."
"Of course, Via." Charlie said with a warm smile before a concerned look formed. As much as Charlie sees that Octavia looks better mentally and physically, the message from Sev still lingers in her mind. Even though the Owl Demon doesn't show it in her expression, it's clear that Octavia is suffering from her parents' fallout. "I'm really so sorry about what happened with your parents...no one deserved that...you, especially."
Octavia sighed. She once more got up on her legs, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked down at the ground.
"It's okay, Charlie. I'm not surprised by this point. If I were younger, I would not have believed they did what they did. But now that Stella's assassination attempt has reached the Electorate's ears... that's even more horrifying for me to think..." Octavia said, her voice trailing off. She let out a bitter, quiet laugh...realizing how much the stakes are against her. "Knowing the Goetia Electorate, they probably will slap the chains on their wrists...or they face execution."
"I'm sure they will find your father innocent, at least."
"If only it worked that way..." Octavia appreciated the comfort, but the truth was even harsher. "There is no such thing as innocent or guilty. In the eyes of Ars Goetia, both Stella and my dad jeopardized the image of House Paimon and House Andras-Phenexia."
"That's a rotten system." Charlie shook her head, already seeing the cracks in Goetia's law of justice.
"You tell me...it's their typical aristocratic bullshit and their excuses just to make someone disappear." Octavia made another sigh before turning around to face Charlie. "And I prefer to still have my mother alive as well, you know."
"...Even after everything she did?"
Octavia was silent at first, her eyes falling to the floor.
"I...I don't know. I mean, what she did was unforgivable...and I don't want her in my life anymore. But she’s still my mother, and letting her die wouldn't make me feel any better. I don't know if I can ever come to terms with it." Her voice wavered slightly. Octavia then shook her head, as if trying to clear her thoughts. "But as much as I wish to blame her for everything...I can't exactly blame them both for all of their faults."
"How come?"
"Did your and Sev's relationship come naturally, or was it forced on you by your and his parents?"
"I think it was a bit of both, to be honest." Charlie's expression turned thoughtful at Octavia's question. "Both my dad and Uncle Leviathan had been 'friends' for a long time. Sev and I...we just clicked, you know? So in a way, it was natural, but our parents definitely pushed us towards each other as well."
Octavia nodded, understandingly.
"It was different for me. It's just...the problem is that my grandfathers forced my parents to marry each other without their consent. Dad is...he’s always been into men, and mom preferred a very powerful duke or someone who is not a...."man-child." Octavia air-quoted at the end.
"So they had a loveless marriage..." Charlie presumed.
"Not surprising, huh?" Octavia confirmed with a nod. "But they were better at hiding it from me, for my sake, at first. I mean, they provided me with everything I needed and wanted growing up, dad at least, and they never argued or fought in front of me...and yet things went even further downhill. My dad later cheated on her with an imp called Blitzø...you probably heard of him?"
"Can't say that I have." Charlie shook her head in no, not knowing what was going on in non-Sinner Rings these days.
"He is something, alright. But the screaming between my parents intensified into open hostility, followed by divorce, then a battle for my custody, with Stella and my uncle trying to make me hate my father...then the declaration of alliance between House Paimon and House Andras came to an end. It had nearly gotten to the point that my Uncle Andrealphus was ready for full-scale war between Paimon and Andras. Luckily, it ended quickly as the Goetian diet stepped in..."
"Good Devil..." Charlie frowned in concern. Comparing this to her and Sev's breakup, both Envy and Pride Ring at least closed their doors with gentlemanly behavior. "That must have been tough for you, Via."
"It was..." Octavia admitted, her voice trailing off once more. "My grandparents were always so obsessed with their own power and status that they never really cared about what my dad or mom wanted or how they felt. Me and my parents were just pawns in their game to secure some alliance in order to make my grandfather Paimon closer to Ars Bael...as if it matters now."
Octavia would return back to Charlie, taking a seat on the chunk. She sighed once more and closed her eyes...before looking at Charlie directly.
"I'm afraid to lose them, Charlie."
"I understand..." Charlie said softly, placing a comforting hand on Octavia's shoulder. "No matter what they've done, they're still your parents, and you love them. It's okay to feel conflicted and unsure about what to do. At the end of the day, you don't have to keep playing their games anymore, your parents included. You don't have to forgive them or even have a relationship with them if you don't want to. You're strong, Octavia...and you have the right to protect yourself and do what's best for you...not to them, not to others...only to yourself ."
"You sound like my Great-Aunt Phenex." Octavia curled her legs closer to her chest, embracing them together as she laid her head on her knees. It's weird how both Charlie and Phenex can be so much...mother-figure to her, unlike Stella. "Told me many times that I must embrace the good sides of my parents and let it become the foundation for my own..."
"There is wisdom in that. If I had been a total copy of my dad, I would never have pursued my goals and strives."
"True..." Octavia nodded, finding it somewhat uplifting. "You know...despite all of that, if not for my dad's cheating with Blitzø...I wouldn't have found so many new insights and appreciations. Void, I even made a friend thanks to that."
"Who?"
"Loona, she's actually pretty cool...despite not being a member of the royal family."
"Why does it surprise you that you made a friend who is not a Goetian noble, Via?" Charlie slightly smirked.
Octavia smiled slightly. "Heh, it's just that in Ars Goetia, we forced our beliefs on others, Charlie. There is an old saying, "Cut the tail of the hound, and he will run away," which is literally bigotry against Hellhounds...I unfortunately also felt victim to some of these biases at times. Talking with Loona changed a lot of my perspectives on non-noble demons."
"Heh, me too, Via...a certain sinner that I love changed my beliefs a lot too." Charlie smiled, glad to hear that Octavia found something positive in her experiences. "And I'm sure your Hellhound friend is lucky to have you as a friend too."
"Yeah, it's nice to have someone who understands me...you and Loona especially." Octavia smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth from this conversation with Charlie...very nice change of pace for her. But Octavia's curiosity was still piqued. Despite all of the owl demon's talking, Charlie barely mentioned anything about herself. "I hope it will not hurt to ask, but what brings you here, by the way? I'm sure you're busy with...hotel stuff of yours rather than sightseeing this cursed Necropolis."
"It's a long story, Via." Charlie nodded, sensing a shift in the conversation. "But I want to speak with Astaroth."
"The Duke Elector?" Octavia raised an eyebrow at Charlie's answer. "Why do you want to speak with him?"
Charlie took a deep breath before answering. "There was someone who nudged me to seek Astaroth's help with the problem I have due to the whole "bureaucratic nonsense." Like I said, it's a long story, and I don't really want to bore you with details."
"I see..." Octavia's expression softened. "A friendly warning, though. We, the Goetias, are rather...sleezy when it comes to the Seven Deadly Sins. No offense or anything, but we maybe smile in front of your dad, but deep inside, we all hate you...due to the whole "WE WUZ KINGZ N SHIET" boomer mentality..."
Charlie blinked twice in confusion at Octavia's choice of words, which only made the Owl Demon giggle at that.
"Sorry, browsed some humans on online message boards a few times...weird stuff they say, but still funny to me." Octavia waved her off, telling her not to bother with that. She then pointed her finger at the looming pyramid. "Anyway...you can find the Duke at the Mausoleum. Just go to that pyramid and you will find him there...easy-peasy."
"Thanks, Via." Charlie smiled gratefully at Octavia. "And thanks for talking with me."
"I should be thanking you... but I appreciate you stopping by, even for a brief moment." Octavia stood up and dusted off her dress. "Take care of yourself, Charlie."
"You too, Via." Charlie nodded and was about to proceed forward, only to make a few steps and turn around and look back at the Princess of Goetia, who is again staring at the runic sign above the tomb. "Why are you here and not saying goodbye to Ars Bael?"
"I needed some time alone and away from the others...it's just too overwhelming to be around other Goetias, you know?" Octavia turned around to face Charlie. She sighed once more, looking back at the tomb. "And I was given a task..."
"A task?" Charlie returned to Octavia, getting more interested.
"It's from Prince Vassago." Octavia replied with a hint of frustration. "He wants to "evaluate" my skills and demanded that I retrieve an artifact from ancient times as proof of my skills. I must go alone without Goetia's help, but my dad insisted on giving me some of his knights to assist me."
"And why did you decline?"
"Because I don't want to be babysat by my dad's knights! I don't need someone holding my hand the whole way through." Octavia hissed slightly, crossing her arms...though her face softened as she realized she sounded a bit too bitter about it. "Sorry, it's just...Dad is clingy on me even if he knows I can handle myself. I once got stuck in the void-hole that is "California" on Earth, but I was fine and well in the end."
"So...why are you not going inside?" Charlie gestured at the tomb.
Octavia eyed Charlie and the entrance of the tomb a few times in silence...before just letting it out.
"I'm a little afraid to go there alone..."
"So, you're afraid, but you don't want your dad's knights to help you?"
"I know it's stupid of me." Octavia let out a deep sigh. "But I don't want to rely on Dad's help to do something I know I can do myself. And besides, this place gives me the creeps. The Ancient Goetia loved to build very creepy shit."
Charlie nodded, understanding Octavia's desire for independence. She took a minute to think for herself...maybe there is a way to help her out.
"You know...I'm not rushing myself to speak with Astaroth, Via. Do you...want me to tag along with you just as a precaution?"
"You would do that?" Octavia looked surprised by Charlie's offer.
"Sure, besides, I'm not Goetia so...you can argue that you didn't have any Goetian help." Charlie mischievously grinned.
"Ha, you make a good point!" Octavia chuckled, not realizing that it can be so easy to go "around" the rules. She then made a pause to think it through before throwing her hands in the air and saying, "Ah, fuck it. Let's do this together...and thanks, Charlie."
"Sure...Goetias first, though." Charlie smirked and simply gestured for her to move first.
"All mighty and shit, huh, your majesty?" Octavia rolled her eyes but couldn't help but grin. The owl demon took a deep breath, collecting her courage. "Alright...I'm a big brave chick, and spooky, scary skeletons won't shiver down my spine."
With that, Octavia stepped forward and proceeded towards the entrance of the tomb. Charlie followed closely behind her, making sure to keep her senses alert for any danger or traps that may lie ahead.
As they barely entered the tomb, Octavia couldn't help but already feel a shiver run down her spine...even if scary skeletons weren't here yet. The air inside was cold and musty, and the darkness seemed to swallow them up. She looked back at Charlie, who gave her a reassuring nod. She has her back, anytime.
"A little light never hurts." Octavia conjured a small ball of light, illuminating the area around them. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, and the floors were made of ancient stone tiles, which made Charlie wonder whose tomb they were dealing with.
"So...who is buried here?" Charlie broke the tension between them, checking the mummified servants that lay in simple grave niches. Their skeletons looked like Goetias of lesser nobility.
"You will laugh if I tell you..." Octavia smiled bitterly, checking the carvings on their path towards the main tomb chamber. "This tomb belongs to Stolas Goetia...the original Stolas Goetia, that is. Not my dad's or anything."
"He is a significant figure in Goetia history, right?" Charlie asked, she is not that well versed in the history of Ars Goetia but can see that the tomb is very lit and well made, which obviously shows the importance.
"Yeah, he was one of the original Goetias who fell from Heaven, alongside my grandfather Paimon. He became one of Belial’s most important advisors" Octavia nodded before pointing her clawed finger at the carvings. "These carvings pretty much describe his accomplishments in vague mannerism."
"Can you translate it?" Charlie asked, looking at the wall.
Octavia, without saying a word, looked up at the text, getting a general overview before translating for Charlie.
"We honor him for he was the first"
"To seek domination trough the wisdom and way of dark secrets."
"To give his Spirit in name of our Ars, betrayed and broken by the Axe of Hellhound"
"Let it be known that Stolas Goetia gave us purpose."
"For the Menace of the Hellhound and Imperians shall persist for as long as Ars stands above all.
"So shall we carry his name and legacy through the wave of times."
"For In Ars, There is Goetia"
"Broken by the Axe of Hellhound?" Charlie listened to the inscription carefully, trying to understand its meaning.
"History-wise, this Stolas Goetia was the first victim of the Hellhound Horde's greatest conquest of Theurgia Goetia." Octavia explained, which made Charlie impressed by her knowledge. "The descriptions pretty much justify the fact that there could not be any friendship between Goetia and the Imp or Hellhound. Even today, the Ars Goetia is very hateful towards the Imps and Hellhounds...so much so that we are not labeling them as "Hellborn" out of our spite for them."
"And yet you have Loona as your friend." Charlie had to point out how much the text lies.
"And so do you. Your dad forced us into submission, remember? But here we are: the Princesses of Inferno and a Goetia, together exploring some old tombs that nobody ever cares about in present times." Octavia gave a small, quiet laugh before proceeding further into the tunnels of the tomb.
"True, we're breaking all the rules of our traditions at this point." Charlie grinned, following the young owl. "Who knows, maybe one day we can get ourselves an Exterminator friend in the future..."
"If it ever happens, you will make my day, Charlie." Octavia smirked before going silent to focus on her hearing...can't be too careful with the tombs.
But so far, so good. As they went deeper into the tomb, the silence was broken only by the sound of their footsteps. Octavia's light orb continued to lead the way, illuminating the carvings on the walls. But eventually, they would stumble upon a very large chamber...with treasure, very impressive carvings, and the tomb itself...of course, it was the main resting place for Original Stolas Goetia.
The tomb itself stood at the center of the room, a grand structure made of black marble and adorned with intricate carvings. The air around it felt heavy and oppressive, as if the very presence of the tomb was suffocating.
"This is it," Octavia said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she approached the tomb, studying the carvings on its surface.
Charlie approached as well to check the carvings. They depicted scenes of battle and conquest from ancient times, and Stolas himself was seen as letting his presence be known to some kind of tribal demon. They looked like Imps but less...reddish...but grayish for some reason.
"Do you know what they are?" Charlie leaned in closer to get a better look at the carving of those tribal demons.
"I'm not sure." Octavia frowned as she looked at the carvings. "It's possible that these are a lesser-known tribe...and I'm afraid they are long gone. The Goetia have been around for thousands of years, and we've encountered many different types of demons during that time. Unfortunately, many of those tribes were wiped out by us as part of our conquests and territorial expansions... Good thing Loona is not here to see this..."
"Why?" Charlie wasn't sure what Octavia meant.
"Loona told me of those "Adoption Centers" she was raised in. I dug around and found out they only created them to "fix" the rapid decline of the Hellhound population...since I told you about Goetia's pettiness, you can guess why." Octavia scowled a bit, checking the rest of the carving before checking around the central chamber. "That's why I hate the hypocrisies...first we had shameless corporate rip-offs like Loo-Loo Land, and now secret genocides are occurring on every Saturday past eleven."
"It's not right to treat anyone like that, Hellhound or otherwise." Charlie whispered, feeling her anger rise. How could her dad be so ignorant about this stuff?
"You and me both, Charlie." Octavia agreed fully with Charlie on that issue. She went silent as the owl demon glanced around. As is usual for Ars Goetia, this tomb is filled with old treasure, golden vases, jewelry, and other valuables. But thanks to her orb, her eyes caught on a small pedestal...and there it was.
The Ancient Grimoire
"Charlie, look at this!" Octavia called out
"What is it?" Charlie turned to Octavia, her eyes following her gaze, and she walked up to her.
"Here it is...now I see why Uncle Vassago wanted it." Octavia walked over to a small pedestal near the tomb, where a small grimoire sat. It was unremarkable compared to the modern day grimoires but still pretty valuable. She carefully picked up the grimoire and examined it. It was made of an unknown material, with intricate carvings on its surface.
"It's definitely different from the Goetian grimoires that I saw." Charlie examined it closely.
"In terms of design, sure, but I'm not sure it could contain some powerful spells or knowledge that the Goetia doesn't already know... not that it's important to me." Octavia shrugged, somewhat agreeing with her. "Still, we should give it to Vassago as proof and-."
"Who dares to enter my resting place!"
Suddenly, a booming voice echoed throughout the room, causing Charlie and Octavia to jump in surprise. They turned around to see the tomb of Stolas Goetia open, revealing a dark and eerie chamber within. Out of the tomb emerged a figure—a mummified crowned owl with very long legs and an imposing figure. His eyes glowed red in the darkness, and his voice carried an air of menace that sent shivers down Charlie's spine.
"Oh, sweet mother Sin!" Charlie cursed as she took a step back, her heart racing. Surprisingly, Octavia remained calm and composed, her eyes fixed on the mummified figure.
"We come in peace, o mighty Stolas" Octavia announced, her voice steady...or rather, she tries to be. "We seek to give the knowledge to your descendants of Ars Goetia."
"And who are you, child of Ars Belial?" The mummified Stolas cocked its head to one side, its eyes fixed on Octavia.
"I'm Octavia, daughter of Stolas Goetia, the one who bears your legacy as the 36th Spirit of the Ars Goetia."
"You bear my legacy?" The mummified Stolas paused for a moment, considering Octavia's words, but it's pretty clear it will be hard to convince him. "Then answer me this: What did that "Stolas Goetia" do to continue my legacy?!"
"...Oh, crap." Octavia cursed under her breath. Since she is versed in Original Stolas Goetia's history and, well, obviously knows her father as Stolas Goetia, comparing these two is like comparing the Earth's elephant and mouse...
Well, it's time to improvise.
"My father bears superlative knowledge of astronomy, the value of precious stones, and the effectiveness of herbs or poisonous plants." Octavia straightened her posture and met the mummified Stolas' gaze head-on. "He imparts that knowledge to those who summon him."
"HA!" The mummified Stolas laughed at that. "Imparting knowledge to those who summon him, you say? And what of his duties as a demon of the Ars Goetia? Has he fulfilled them?"
"Well, he..." Octavia hesitated, knowing that her father had...failed in that regard. "He has been preoccupied with other matters, but I assure you he is willing to fulfill his duties."
The mummified Stolas' eyes narrowed. "I am not convinced. You speak of knowledge and willingness, but where is the proof of his actions? Show me the deeds that he has done to continue my legacy as a demon of the Ars Goetia. Did he avenge my death by the hands of Hellhounds? Did he crush these disgusting Imperians?"
"Well...He um...." Octavia wracked her brain, trying to think of something to convince the mummified Stolas. "I guess he um...fucked an Imp?"
Octavia then made the brightest fake smile she could ever do to convince the undead one that it's acceptable in modern days....and yet the mummified Stolas' eyes widened in shock and disgust...negotiations were short.
"Charlie?" Octavia called out, horror on her face as it was about to begin.
"Yeah?"
"We run?"
"Yep..."
"RUN!"
Octavia and Charlie turned and bolted for the entrance of the chamber, enraging the undead Stolas.
"DEGENERATES!" The mummified Stolas' enraged roar echoed behind them. Charlie and Octavia ran as fast as they could, their feet pounding on the stone floor, their hearts pounding in their chests.
"COULD YOU SERIOUSLY NOT COME UP WITH SOMETHING ELSE?!" Charlie screamed during their run.
"I panicked, okay?!" Octavia shouted back as they raced down the dark hallway, their footsteps echoing loudly. As they ran, Octavia could hear heavy footsteps behind them, getting louder and closer. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the mummified Stolas charging after them, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly fury.
"THERE! THE ENTRANCE!" Charlie yelled, pointing to a dim light up ahead.
Octavia saw it too, and they both picked up their pace, sprinting towards the exit. Finally, they once more set foot in the Valley of Ars Belial. They collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air and covered in sweat.
"Via?! What are you-" Another Goetia rushed to her, only to see the glowing eyes appearing at the dark tunnels of the entrance, getting closer and closer.
"Stolas, spell of dispel ward, now!" A demonic woman in a black dress commanded.
The Goetian Demon quickly rushed with the woman and began chanting and casting the spell of dispel ward, creating a powerful barrier that glowed with an intense white light. The mummified Stolas slammed into the barrier, his body writhing and contorting as he tried to break through, but the spell held strong.
"You!" The mummified Stolas cursed at his name-bearer.
That "Other" Stolas Goetia is an anthropomorphic owl demon. He is tall and slender, with a white, heart-shaped facial disk and small black beak, resembling that of an owl. He has two pairs of almond-shaped red eyes, one set atop the other, with no visible irises or pupils. Stolas has gray-blue feathers, which gradient to dark gray-blue on his head and long, plume-like tail. He has a lighter gray-blue puff of fur on his chest. His limbs are long, thin, and black, and his feet are tipped with owl claws.
Stolas stood strong, holding the dispel ward spell against the mummified Stolas. Despite the intense pressure, he maintained his concentration, keeping the barrier strong and unbroken. The mummified Stolas continued to struggle against the barrier.
"You insult me!" The mummified Stolas growled, his voice filled with anger and frustration at his successor in name.
"You insult yourself by resorting to such petty attacks on my daughter!" Stolas replied back, his voice stoic against his predecessor. "Go and have peace with Ars Belial, Stolas Goetia. Your days are long past."
The mummified Stolas snarled and bared his teeth, but he eventually relented and stepped back from the barrier. His eyes still glowed with fury, but he seemed to understand that he could not break through the dispel ward spell. With one last scowl in the direction of Octavia and Charlie before looking back at his successor.
"I will await your fall, Stolas Goetia."
"You will be waiting for eternity, then." Stolas replied confidently, as the mummified Stolas slowly began to move further into the tunnel, his eyes disappearing into the emptiness of his tomb...forever resting in the Valley of Ars Belial.
With the dispel ward spell still active, Stolas made his way back towards Octavia and Charlie, who were still recovering from the attack.
"Are you alright, my little owlet?" The Prince of Goetia asked, concern evident in his voice.
"I'm never alright, Dad." Octavia grumped a bit, but with the help of her dad, she stood on her feet. "I told you I could handle this."
"I know you can, Starfire, but that doesn't mean I can't worry." Stolas replied with a gentle smile, helping his daughter stand up. Charlie, on the other hand, was still lying on the ground, resting. Not forgetting that it was Lucifer's daughter, Stolas quickly rushed to her, wanting to help her out.
"You alright there, your majesty?" He offered his hand. "I do want to apologize if my Via...asked you to come with her."
"It's okay...I would lie if it wasn't thrilling." Charlie showed her palm, signaling that it's okay to be "casual" with her as she stood on her feet by herself.
Stolas nodded with a small smile and a bow of respect towards the heir to the infernal throne before looking at her daughter.
"What happened in the tomb, Via?"
"We found this grimoire in the tomb before that restless fucker got all pissy-wimsy on us. I told him who I was, and still he demanded to know your achievements."
"...What did you say about me?"
Octavia remained silent at first, cocking her head to the left as if questioning her dad's question. "Seriously, dad? What could I have told the undead Goetia, who laid the groundwork for the arts of the Arcane and was one of Belial’s most trusted advisors, that would have allowed us to take his grimoire? No offense, but seriously."
“Comparison is the root of all evil. Why compare when no two people are alike, young Octavia?” The woman in the black dress remarked, seeing that the young owlet takes too much from her dad. The mysterious woman then walked towards Charlie; her eyes scanned her niece from head to toe, taking in every detail. "It's been a while, Charlie."
Charlie looked at the woman in the black dress and was taken aback. It had been years since she last saw her aunt, and now she was standing before her in the flesh.
"Yeah, it has been...." Charlie nodded slowly, still trying to process the fact that her aunt was standing before her. "How are you, Aunt Azazel?"
Before saying anything, Azazel looked at Octavia with Stolas and kindly gestured for them to leave them alone. Stolas nodded, understanding the Chancellor's request, and walked away with her daughter, giving Charlie and Azazel some privacy.
"As much as this ring demands my attention," Azazel responded calmly. "I make sure all of the Deadly Sin's interests are fulfilled in Pandemonium."
"Oh, nice! Well, I'm actually -"
"Seeking Astaroth?" Azazel interrupted, her voice cutting through Charlie's words.
"Y-yes, um...how did you know?" Charlie was taken aback once again.
Azazel didn't reply at first and instead walked up at the edge, glancing at the tombs of many Goetias below her. A very awkward minute will pass before she then responds.
"Close your eyes...and focus your mind on the surroundings."
Charlie followed her aunt's instructions and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
"You feel it, don't you?" Azazel murmured.
"Yeah...like a darkness that seems to emanate from the valley itself. It was as if the very air was filled with a palpable sense of foreboding."
"Then you feel the potency of this place, Charlie." Azazel said, her voice low and steady. "This valley is filled with sins and darkness of his . You awoke that Stolas by the mere presence of yours."
Charlie's eyes widened in surprise. "I did? But how?"
"I assume your bandaged hand is the answer to your question," Azazel said, her gaze shifting towards the pyramid of Belial in the distance. "Your bandaged hand is a sign that you have already come into contact with the dark forces that reside here."
Charlie looked down at her bandaged hand, her mind racing with questions. She had barely scratched the surface of this deal she found herself in, and yet it seemed that every step she took led to more questions than answers.
"You know already that I met him, don't you?" Charlie asked, coming closer to her. She hoped that her aunt could provide some insight into the enigmatic Devil.
"This universe is too small for secrets to be held for long, Charlie," Azazel replied cryptically, her eyes still fixed on the pyramid.
"But can I trust the Devil?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Can you trust yourself?" Azazel didn't look at her niece at first; her gaze was still fixed on the pyramid. "You must remember that the Devil offers you an opportunity, but it's up to you to decide whether to accept it or not. You have the power to shape your own destiny. The devil has his own agenda, sure, but so do you. It's up to you to decide whenever his agenda aligns with yours and if you can use it for your own benefits."
"But what if his agenda is to cause harm?" Charlie asked, her mind turning to the people she cared about.
"Then you must decide if the price is worth it," Azazel replied. "Power always comes with a cost, Charlie. The question is: Are you willing to pay for it?"
Charlie blinked twice, contemplating her aunt's words. Azazel always spoke vaguely in her mannerisms, but there was a weight to her words that Charlie couldn't ignore. The Princess of Hell had always been so cautious with demons like Alastor, careful to consider every angle before making a decision. But now she found herself full of unknowns, and the Devil himself was the biggest question mark of them all.
"So..." Charlie began, changing the topic. "What brought you here?"
"Your father...who else could it be?" Azazel said this and nothing else.
"Of course..." Charlie wasn't surprised to hear this. "Did he know I would be here and send you here to spy on me?"
"No, I came here to mingle with Goetia at your father's command. It's a long story filled with mystery and conspiracies." Azazel then finally made the full turn towards Charlie, remembering the deal she and Lucifer made. "And I believe this one belongs to you."
A black fog surrounded Azazel's hands before both Razzle appeared in her arms. He blinked in confusion before noticing his master in person.
"Razzle!" Charlie exclaimed in delight as the goat toy quickly hopped off Azazel's arms and onto Charlie's, panting excitedly. He licked and nuzzled Charlie's face, showing her how much he missed his master.
"He seems to be very important to you." Azazel coldly stated, fully resistant against this charming scene.
"He’s been with me since the beginning, Aunt." Charlie expressed her affection by petting Razzle as he nuzzled against her. "But how did you manage to get him, anyway?"
"Your father wanted me to give him to you while pretending that I stole them from him....it's his way of saying sorry." Azazel saw no reason to lie to her.
"Of course he is..." Charlie cursed herself. Her father's way of apologizing was certainly unique, but she couldn't say she was surprised. "But really, thank you for bringing Razzle back to me."
Azazel nodded back. The witch then brought her fingers to her lips and whistled. A single demonic raven was summoned before it landed on Azazel's arm.
"Who's that?" Charlie asked, intrigued by the demonic raven. Razzle uncomfortably looked at the Raven. If Kee-Kee was creepy as shit...this thing is even worse.
"This is my messenger, Huginn." Azazel introduced her raven to them. "I use him for carrying messages and spying, among other things."
"Spying?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.
"Not on you, Charlie. But sometimes it's necessary for certain... endeavors." Azazel nearly let out a cold smirk. The witch of secrets then whispered the set of commands to Huginn, making sure he heard them all. Azazel then yanked her arm, causing Huginn to take off into the air with a loud caw.
"Goetias don't appreciate the presence of non-Goetian like me...but I have everything I need right now. Hence, I must depart from the land of ancients."
"I understand." Charlie watched as the bird disappeared into the distance before directing her attention at Azazel. Charlie had hoped to spend more time with her aunt and catch up on everything that had happened since they last saw each other. "But I'm glad I'm at least able to see you, even if it's just for a little while."
"Hmm." Azazel hummed back, her way of agreeing. "I can see you've grown into a remarkable young woman, Charlie. I can only wish you that The Endlessness of Destiny shall guide your path to your success."
"Thank you," Charlie said, feeling a bit bashful. She wasn't used to receiving compliments that often. "I'm still learning, but I'm trying my best."
"That's all anyone can ask for in their pursuit of knowledge. Farewell, Lucifera Charlotte Morningstar of Nasharoth." Azazel nodded before proceeding to leave. On her way, she flicked her fingers before a hollow moan of death emitted from the original Stolas Goetia's Tomb...at least she put him out of his misery.
Charlie watched as Azazel walked away, feeling a bit sad that their time together was so brief. But she knew that her aunt had important duties to attend to, and she couldn't begrudge her for that. Besides, she had Razzle back with her, and that was enough to lift her spirits.
Charlie again crouched down to rub his head, smiling as he purred contentedly. But she can see he is not...comfortable to be in Goetian Necropolis.
"It's alright. Go to Cain at the end of the valley, in the direction where Aunt went. I won't be long, and then we can go home."
"..." Razzle blinked a few times, concerned.
"Cain is cool, trust me. I'll see you soon." Charlie assured him, standing on her feet.
Razzle nodded; he trusted her master, hence he went back, his hooves clacking against the rocky terrain of this valley. Charlie watched him trot away, feeling a sense of relief knowing that he was safe with Cain.
The Princess of Hell gave one final glance at the tomb, feeling a shiver from experiencing a Goetian Tomb...and hopefully the last one in her existence. She quickly shook these thoughts off and began to make her way towards the mausoleum, taking the stairs to get herself up.
"Your majesty, can I have a minute of your time?" Someone called out for her.
Charlie looked to the left and noticed Octavia's father, Stolas Goetia. He nervously played with his clawed fingers, showing how much he is...stressed and nervous in front of Lucifer's daughter.
"Of course, Stolas." Charlie said, giving him a warm smile. She could sense his anxiety and wanted to put him at ease. "What can I do for you?"
Before responding to his future Queen of Inferno, Stolas looked back, hoping no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. The last thing he needed was Stella, or worse, Andrealphus, listening to their conversation.
"It's about Octavia," Stolas whispered, his voice wavering slightly. "Again, I apologize for my Via dragging you into the tombs."
"Come on, I already told you I had fun, Stolas." Charlie again assured him that there had been no harm done.
"I know, but I also wanted to thank you for this." Stolas continued, wringing his hands. "With you, Octavia seems happy and...back to her old self. She never was that depressed before...It's just...well...she...umm-"
"Is concerned about what is happening between you and your ex-wife?" Charlie presumed.
"She told you, didn't she?" Stolas shamelessly acknowledged before sighing. "I understand Octavia's frustration with me...seeing her parents get divorced like that and then...trying to kill each other. I just hoped she would understand my position. I was forced to marry that raging bitch for the sake of my father's political alliance..."
"Via said you neglected her." Charlie added. She gave Stolas the benefit of the doubt, as Octavia could just express her feelings. But at the same time, she can't ignore what Octavia mentioned about them.
"In a way, I did..." Stolas sighed; he couldn't run from this truth. "And I suffer because of it, your majesty...I was too preoccupied dealing with Stella that I forgot about my own child."
The Prince of Goetia then laid his hand on the broken rail and stared at the valley below him...a thought of his body buried here, and all of his carvings were written on how much of a pathetic Goetian he was at this time.
Hated by his own father.
Neglected his own daughter
Broke a political marriage
And now faced with a trial for damaging the Goetia's image.
Stolas doesn't know what will come from this trial...in any case...nothing good will come out of it.
"I would like to make a request, your majesty...if that's okay with you, of course." The Prince kindly asked,
"Sure" Charlie nodded to proceed.
"I know most of the electorate hates me and Stella. And with no father to back me, I'm afraid it will be the end of me..." Stolas trailed off, his voice becoming quiet once more, and he rubbed his face before speaking with all his courage. "If something happens to me...could you take care of Octavia for me? She is an adult, sure, but she will need all the support after I'm gone. Even if Stella is killed and I'm not...it's still the end of me as a Prince of Ars Goetia. Octavia would lose her mother...even after all she had done to us, it would stain my relationship with her."
Charlie looked at Stolas with a mix of empathy and understanding. She could see the guilt and shame written all over Stolas' face, it's clear he is completely worried for Octavia's future.
"Okay, I will try." Charlie assured him, laying her hand on Stolas's arm. He is too tall for her to reach his shoulders.
"Thank you, your majesty...I know it's customary to offer something in return." He awkwardly stated...not wanting to be screamed at for it.
"You don't have to offer me anything, Stolas. It's not necessary." Charlie said, smiling reassuringly. "I knew Octavia since I used to babysit her a few times. She is my friend and my "Goetian cousin" no-less. I'm happy to help her in any way I can."
"Your justness is an example to us, your majesty." Stolas nodded, grateful for Charlie's kindness. Unlike Lucifer, he is glad he can have support from the Princess...and he is confident that, as Queen Lucifera, she will have a blossoming friendship with Princess Octavia Goetia to the end.
Stolas then looked up as the crowd of his fellow...Goetian Spirits that are participating in the funeral even of their Ars. Plus, Octavia waited for them, as she would rather not deal with her superiors all alone.
"Would you humble me enough to let me escort you to the funeral pyre, your highness?" Stolas offered his hand to Charlie, a custom to show humility and obedience to the Deadly Sin.
Charlie took Stolas' hand and nodded, understanding the significance of the gesture before they proceeded to the main event.
The Princess of Hell has never been to a funeral before. Royal Demons tend to live very long, and death is a rare occurrence for them, but when it does happen, it is always a solemn and significant event, especially if it's the Ars of all Demons.
As they approached the crowd, Charlie could see that everyone was dressed in white and gray, a sign of mourning for Ars Goetia's culture. She could also sense the heaviness in the air and the sadness that hung over the gathering.
Octavia was there, waiting for her father and her friend while chatting... with Andrealphus.
"Crap..." Stolas cursed, his expression turned sour upon seeing Andrealphus. He had always despised Andrealphus' arrogance and cocksure behavior...ten times worse than Stella's.
And worse: Andrealphus saw him too.
"Well, well, well." Marquis Andrealphus snickered in delight at his archrival's mere presence. "Look who is back...I wondered if I would find your carcass on my way to the exit."
"In your dreams, spiritless, cold peacock. This is not the time or place for your petty insults."
Andrealphus merely chuckled at Stolas's response, clearly enjoying the opportunity to taunt his adversary.
"Oh, but Stolas, I couldn't resist the chance to pay my respects to our King of Kings," He taunted with a sly grin, gesturing towards the crowd of Goetian mourners. "I hear your father was quite close to our Ars, hmm? Shame, really. Losing a friend can be so...painful."
Stolas' fists clenched at his sides, his eyes flashing with anger. He knew that Andrealphus was trying to get a rise out of him, but he refused to give him that satisfaction.
"Leave-me-and-my-daughter-alone, Andrealphus!" Stolas hissed, showing that he wouldn't take "no" for an answer.
"Or what...going to fuck another Imp for good measure?" Andrealphus dared, even leaning his beak closer to Stolas' face, ready to poke out one of his eyes...peacock, after all. "Because, Stolas. I will be quite happy to "fuck you up" in front of our Great Electors. They might even enjoy it...as I do."
"Okay, I think it's enough of you too." Charlie interjected, stepping in between Stolas and Andrealphus. "This is a funeral, not a battlefield. Show some respect to your dead Ars."
Andrealphus looked at Charlie with disdain, not appreciating her taking sides.
"I see the Heir herself is here... are you trying to court an heir to your cause, Stol-ass, hmm?"
"This is not the time or place for your inappropriate comments, Marquis Andrealphus." Charlie narrowed her eyes at Andrealphus. "My presence here has nothing to do with what you're insinuating."
Andrealphus snorted with a small laugh.
"With all due respect to you, your majesty. I have you know that I'm a vassal with very -"
"ANDRE!"
"Aannd here comes another challenger." Octavia rolled her eyes, expecting him to be here. Even Stolas swallowed up, ready for what is about to come.
Another Goetia joined the conversation, his walk stoic and military-like, with hands behind his back. Great Marquis Andras, as he is known, is rather an imposing figure. Much like his daughter, he is a swan demon. He has long, hair-like feathers that have gray tips and a large gray stripe on his head. He has a short pink beak, and very long curved eyelashes. As it's usual for Ars Goetia, he has the prominent short pink beak while his feathers were all a deep white, save for his lower neck and breast feathers, which were more grayish.
He wore a noble suit with armored shoulder pads and arm plates alongside the cape that covered his entire body along with many medals pinned on his chest. Even the medal of "Order of the Fly" is on him, which is impressive. Normally, it was given by Queen Beelzebub herself as the highest medal of honor for Gluttony Dominion's service.
Andreaphalus didn't even look back at his father when the Great Marquis came closer. Octavia's grandfather scanned the group. He gave a silent bow to Charlie and a nod to Octavia's presence before addressing his fabulous son.
"Andre, what in Bael's name are you doing by wasting your time, speaking with that Paimon's faggot?" Andras harshly demanded.
Stolas's right eye twitched in anger...and they often said that Heaven is the nexus of all homophobia in the afterlife. You never change, Ars Goetia.
"Trying to lift the mood of this funeral, papa. Is that such a crime?" Andrealphus shrugged nonchalantly, being disturbingly neutral in his tone.
"You can have all your fun once your sister's head will be hanging at the gallows of Lemegeton, peachick. Now come, your great-aunt Phenex will have the speech with the Electors, and I want you to be there."
"You heard my grandfather, Uncle." Octavia also warned. Despite the hostile atmosphere, she kept herself away from these feuds.
"Fine, fine. I'll behave for now, papa." Andrealphus sighed dramatically before turning to Stolas with a smirk. "See you around, my brother-in-law. Make sure you don't get stuck in the washing machine."
Still laughing, Andrealphus followed his father out of their presence, the tension in the air dissipating as they left. Octavia let out a sigh of relief, glad that the confrontation was over. The last thing she needs is to now be arguing with her maternal family members, but still...she had to let it out.
"Fucking Cloaca!" Octavia cursed
"Via!" Stolas gasped slightly. Charlie nearly wheezed due to how suddenly and unexpectedly Octavia said it.
"What?! He called you a fag, dad!" Octavia complained...didn't help at all.
"Via, Language! Let's not stoop down to his level. You're better than that." Stolas again chided. Octavia just threw her hands in the air, preferring to have a full right to use vulgar language, even against her uncle.
"So..." Charlie stepped in, trying not to start another argument fight. "Mind filling me in on who that older Goetia?"
"That was Great Marquis Andras, your majesty." Stolas turned to Charlie and sighed. "He has a sister named Phenex Goetia who is an Elector...they are both typical elitist aristocrats."
"Pretty much, yeah." Octavia shrugged, somewhat agreeing with that. "Great Aunt always was like this."
"But what's an Elector?" Charlie asked, not being well versed enough in Ars Goetian culture.
"Well, it's a title given to the highest-ranking demons in the Goetian hierarchy by the Ars himself, Charlie. Imagine an advisory group, essentially."
"In a sense, yes." Stolas nodded to Octavia's reasonable explanation. "We don't directly answer to the Deadly Sins or the Ars as normal nobles of Goetia. That's usually what Electors do."
"So who do you answer to, Stolas?" Charlie nodded, still trying to wrap his head around the complex hierarchy of demons.
"Great Prince Vassago, of course."
"And my mother and uncle answer to Aunt Phenex, Charlie." Octavia added.
"And what exactly does being a prince of Goetia entail?" Charlie continued.
Stolas took a moment to think before answering. "It means I have certain responsibilities and duties to fulfill as a diplomat. I have to make decisions that represent our interests in negotiations with other clans of Ars Goetia."
"But you're not very involved in that, are you?" Charlie asked, recalling what Octavia had said earlier.
"I just have a different approach." Stolas cleared his throat awkwardly.
"He's too lazy, in other words, Charlie." Octavia joked, grinning like she won a huge pot of money at the poker table.
Stolas gave her a "look" but didn't respond; sassiness in her daughter is prevalent, especially now that she is a grown woman and more independent...but it's not that he hates it, actually. Stolas, in fact, welcomes it. Sure, there is a little bit of "Stella's behavior" slipping into Octavia's mannerisms, but Stolas knew she would never fall into her mom's level of pettiness.
"I don't think you should exchange banter while a funeral occurs." Charlie chuckled at the banter between Stolas and Octavia.
"Come on. We are just having fun, Charlie. it's not like I'm a embodiment of a Goetian noble." Octavia then smiled as she looked up at Stolas, with crossed arms. "Aren't we, dad?"
Stolas smirked back, bringing his arm around Octavia's shoulder. "You love to mess with your old daddy, huh?"
"I would not trade it for anything else." Octavia grinned, returning the hug.
"Me too, my owlet...me too." Stolas gave her a forehead smooch...showing how much he is proud of her.
Charlie smiled even more at this scene, glad to see the two of them getting along despite the circumstances...sometimes she wished her own dad was just like Stolas is. Still, it was a harsh demand that every Goetia be present at the funeral; hence, both Charlie and Octavia made their way towards the crowd of Ars Goetian Demons all over Inferno.
The entirety of invited Goetias all surrounded the very decorative coffin, which had the symbol of Bael on the cover. A choir of non-Spirit Goetias performed the "traditional song of Goetia" in memory of their King of Kings. It was somber, depressing, and somehow uplifting.
Charlie listened to the song as she gently followed Octavia and Stolas. She didn't know Bael personally, but she knew how much he meant to the demons of Goetia. It was clear from the emotion in the voices of the choir that he was a beloved figure to their kind. Even the Kings of Goetia—Paimon, Beleth, Viném, Balam and Zagan were there, paying respect to their Lord, who chose them to be "entitled" to the King's power.
Only Paimon's sad expression was genuine, while the rest faked it for the sake of respect towards Ars Bael. That's a classic Goetia: behind their smiles and expressions are web of intrigues and schemes.
And speaking of schemes.
Among the crowd, a very tall white avian demon with long, hair-like feathers that fade to grey at the tips and a large gray stripe on her head, stood on the opposite side from Stolas and Octavia. She has a short pink beak, and long curved eyelashes. Her eyes are red with light pupils; a trait she shares with Stolas. She wears a white dress with puffed sleeves and feather trimming, along with black accents. She is wearing a crown, and has painted nails underneath her black gloves.
Stella Goetia observed the funeral, impatiently waiting for it to end and not caring that much about Bael's death. Her fiery temper is boiling; she prefers this whole procedure is done and get over with, the whole "Trial" as well...just away from both his brother and her papa...but the Devil wasn't on her side.
Her brother, all mighty and shit, slowly crept up on her with the smuggest grin he could ever create. Stella ignored him, giving him just a one-second glance before returning to Bael's coffin.
"What do you want?" Stella hissed, still not looking at him.
"Oh, nothing much." The demonic peacock chuckled. "Just enjoying the show and your pissed-off expression, sister. It's not every day we get to see a king's funeral, especially one as grand as this."
Stella narrowed her eyes at her brother; bullshitting is one of his best abilities...thanks to Phenex.
"Are you not supposed to suck papa's cloaca like you usually do?"
"And you're supposed to lick our aunt's cunt, but we all have better things to do." Andrealphus shrugged nonchalantly. "Plus, the next few hours will be interesting, as I want to see how the trial is going to play out. It's not every day your sister is on trial for treason, you know."
"I haven't done anything wrong, and you know it....Aunt Phenex has my backing."
"I sure do hope so, little sis." Her brother said with a smirk. "But just in case, I suggest you start thinking about what you're going to say in your defense. You wouldn't want to end up like poor old Kimaris, now would you?"
Stella gritted her teeth, her anger rising. She couldn't stand her brother's smug attitude, and the fact that he tried to intimidate her made her even more furious.
"You're nothing but a coward, running away as soon as things don't go our way!" Stella balled her fists, and her face contorted with rage. "You'll regret ever double-crossing me!"
"Double-crossing you?" Andrealphus just chuckled, his ego exploding. "I just tried to help you win rightful ownership of Stolas's mansion. And then someone had to leak your telephone conversation with that "Striker" pleb. I'm on your side, Stella. I wouldn't want my poor, dear little sister's body to hang in the gallows in Lemegeton. But we'll see what the judges' verdict will be, won't we?"
Stella stared back at him, losing this ground before the fear of execution was all she thought she could muster...
"I trusted you, Devildammit!" Stella again expressed her anger...but the desperation is already slipping.
"Oh, Stella. When you realize that you were nothing but a spare child to deliver a grand egg to our dad? I'm the true line of House Andras-Phenex, and you'll be a dead corpse soon... you and Stol-ass too. I'm going to take a commemorative picture with your dead body once it's done...my way to remember you. Ta-ta!"
And with that, he sauntered away, leaving Stella seething with anger. Andrealphus was cunning and ruthless, and he wouldn't hesitate to eliminate anyone who stood in his way in Goetian games...siblings included.
Taking a deep breath, Stella tried to calm herself down. She couldn't afford to let her emotions get the best of her, especially not now in front of so many Goetias and Electors. Luckily for her, she saw that her father, Andras, stopped talking with her aunt and would leave to do his own important stuff... She at least can seek out help from someone she trusts with all power.
And that would be Phenex Goetia.
A tall and willowy Phonexian Demon stood in the crowd, waiting for the choir to end so that she could have a speech with the rest of the Ars Goetian Electors. Like before, Phenex is in her typical hybrid dress and upper armor. Her dress purposely hugged every curve and crevice of her frame with almost painstaking perfection, with her upper breast plate having a "inner window boob" design to show off her beauty...if you are representing all Marquises of Goetia, you need to be both beautiful and deadly at the same time.
Stella made her way through the crowd towards Phenex, keeping her head down and trying not to draw too much attention to herself...especially if her dad is around. When she finally reached the Marquise, she cleared her throat to get her attention.
"Aunt Phenex," Stella announced, her voice barely above a whisper.
"♪ Something I can help you with, my little pen? ♪" Phenex is in her typical cheerful tone... she seems unaffected by the death of Bael.
"It's about Andrealphus again..." Stella took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "He's trying to put all the blame on me."
"♪ Ahh, does he now? ♪" Phenex raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp as she looked at Stella. "♪ And how can I be sure you're not lying to me, yes hmm? ♪"
"I'm telling you with all honesty, Aunt." Stella begged quietly; desperation is noticeable in her voice. "Please-please believe me! You're the only one who can get me out of my death penalty!"
Phenex let out a soft sigh, her eyes flickering with a hint of pity as she looked at Stella. "♪ Oh, Stella. No wonder you're so easy to rile up. But you know I trust you... still, it won't change the fact that the other electors are not so easily swayed...you haven't provided any evidence yet, hmm yes. ♪ "
"But how?" Stella asked, her voice barely audible. "The fucking peacock asshole erased all evidence of him giving me the Striker's contact."
"♪ Not surprising. Don't forget who your brother is. Cunning as he is, he avoided leaving traces of him hiring your "Striker" friend for you, hmm yes. ♪"
"So what am I supposed to do now? Just accept my fate and die?" Stella complained.
"♪ You let your own anger lead you to make questionable choices that cost you to be in this mess. ♪" Phenex released a breath. “♪ And that doesn't even include how, rather than fulfill your duties as a mother, you gave poor little Octavia all the reasons to love her father, while giving her all the reasons to hate you, hmm yes. ♪.”
Stella remained silent, awkwardly trying to avoid her aunt’s gaze, as her words were hitting their intended mark.
"♪ You could have done it covertly, you know...stab Stolas in his sleep, for example, hmm yes ♪."
"You need a blessed dagger for that..."
"♪ They are easy to get if you have right connections, Stella...I know I do, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex chuckled at the end. Ah, she misses that silly Exorcist...still rather curious what happened to him in the end.
"You're pretty casual about this, Aunt." Stella raised her eyebrow, surprised at how open she was about it.
"♪ Aren't you not? ♪" Phenex smirked at the Swan's naivety. "♪ Stella, this is Ars Goetia that we speak of. Everyone who stands here at the funeral event assassinated someone in their time, as Goetia...even Stolas did. He has 21 individuals on his kill count, actually. ♪"
"Really...just 21? Ha, that's pathetic!" Stella crossed her arms with a sneer. Even she has 31 on her count, and she is just a non-heir of Andras's House.
"♪ Like I said: Great Elector and I have great connections. ♪" Phenex chuckled. But she returned her attention to Stella, her expression turning serious. "♪ Now, back to the matter at hand. I try to pin the fault on your father and Paimon. If we're lucky, then the rest of the Ars electorate will see you and Stolas being incompatible from the start and drop the charges. ♪"
"You really can do that?"
"♪ No promises, Stella...this is all I can do, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex gave her a small smile before observing the choir. Her eyes will catch sight of Stella's unfortunate ex-husband with their daughter...and a very special guest. "♪ Interesting...looks like another challenger enters the ring. ♪"
Stella looked to where Phenex's eyes were glaring and nearly gasped, seeing who Stolas had brought into this card game.
"That wretched imp fucker tries to sway the heir to the infernal throne to his side!"
"♪ Language, Stella. ♪ " Phenex's tone was neutral but still harsh enough.
"Apologies, but still...the spineless twink thinks he is invincible with the heir by his side. Typical Stolas, always looking for someone else to solve his problems!"
"♪ Doubtful that Lucifer's daughter is here for that, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex chuckled again, her eyes focusing on Charlie. Quite curious what her King is planning now...but just as it was time for the Great Marquise to shine, the choir's song came to an end, with the rest of the electors joining to have a speech.
"♪ Wish me luck, little swan. ♪" Phenex took a deep breath, fixing her crown up and slightly adjusting her breast plate to make it properly aligned. With nothing left, she went to join the rest, her confident demeanor radiating through her walk. All eyes were on the electors at this point.
The Great Electors of Ars Goetia, consisting of Astaroth, Vassago, Marbas, Morax and (everyone's favorite) Phenex, formed a row behind Ars Bael's coffin so that all Goetias could have their eyes on both Electors and on their master's coffin. Astaroth, who was in the middle of the row, cleared his throat to begin.
"Let it be known that Ars Theurgia Goetia has chosen freedom over the tyranny of God. For we are new masters of the underworld, unbound by false morality and mindless servitude." Duke Astaroth quoted his part, thus beginning the speech.
"In his words, our Ars Belial gave the greatest birth of Demonic Order: The Ars Goetia." Vassago continued.
"♪ It was the birth of a new order, bound to no one but ourselves, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex was next.
"Under his leadership, we prospered and expanded, civilizing the mindless savages and wretched ferals who inhabited our domain." Count Morax performed his part.
"But then a disaster struck us." President Marbas finished the introduction. Astaroth would come forward, ready to have the full speech.
"The Hellhounds and their wretched Alpha-Khan Lycaon: The Scourge of Goetia, amazed his Horde with the conquest of ancient Goetia. Their hordes were a stain on our history, but they also ignited a fire within us. We have fought tooth and nail for what is rightfully ours—to conquer and expand the Ancient Inferno. In the war for our survival, Ars Belial perished in his fight against Khan Lycaon. Both dealt a fatal blow to each other, weakening the Hordes enough that even the weak tribes of Wrath under Imperious's command managed to drive the Hellhounds off their Ring."
A solemn silence fell over the audience as Astaroth spoke. However, the Electors stood tall and proud, their determination unbroken.
"Despite our victory...we were then forced into-" Astaroth paused himself as he saw that the princess and daughter of that One were here. "We saw that we're no longer able to survive the next onslaught as our Great Future Kings of Inferno let their presence know."
"♪ And that's where Ars Bael comes into our history. ♪ " Phenex added to Astaroth's word. "♪ This Goetia you see lying on the coffin is the reason you stand here today. Had he not submitted to our Majesty Lucifer's merciful demands in exchange for servitude, this valley you see today would have had far more tombs...or it could have been in total ruins, hmm yes ♪."
"Indeed, Great Marquise." Astaroth agreed, walking closer to his dead master and laying his hand on the coffin, saying one final goodbye to his King and Lord of the Goetia. "And today, just as I stood here as Great Marquis Astaroth with Count Paimon at the time when we said our goodbyes to Ars Belial...we once more say goodbye to our Ars Bael...and pray to the spirits that a new Ars shall lead into a new age of Ars Goetia. For in Ars-"
"There is Goetia!" All of Goetia's demons proclaimed this, kneeling at the coffin of Ars Bael. Even Stolas did it out of respect for his Ars. Octavia and Stella didn't need to bow, as they don't belong to the "Club of 72 Pillars" but the young Owl at least lowered her head in humility...in respect to everyone who is present here.
Charlie never witnessed such a grand and solemn ceremony before. Her Dad always insulted Ars Goetia when it came to Charlie's conversations with him, even joking that she could "finish what he started...and yet Charlie couldn't help but feel uplifted by the dedication and loyalty of the Goetian Demons to their fallen leader...Goetias are not so different from her uncles and aunts of the Deadly Sins...just a different flavor of Inferno.
Finishing giving their final respects to the Ars Bael, All of the Goetias would stand up, some wiping away tears or sniffling softly...or faking it, it's hard to tell. Astaroth turned to face the gathered crowd once more, his eyes somber but resolute.
"If anyone wishes to have their own words to say, then go ahead."
"Lord Paimon?" Prince Vassago called out. Bael and Paimon were friends for a long time, and it would be surprising if Paimon didn't say something to his departed friend..
“What do you want me to say?" Paimon hissed, annoyed at being pestered. "That all all fuckers would have never even been born without him becoming Ars? Bael was my lord, my king, my friend...and he was good at "daddying."
"What the fuck does it mean?" Stolas muttered in vermin, baffled by this and not caring for language. "He can't just throw "daddying" anytime he wants!"
"Just ignore him, dad. You're better than that." Octavia whispered to him. Ironically, she can perfectly see when there is "Octavia" in dad's mannerisms.
Charlie couldn't sigh in sympathy at Octavia's comment...it's not like he is the only one who has "daddy issues" in this crowd.
Before anyone could respond to Paimon's comment, a childlike voice spoke up among the crowd.
"♪ Perhaps her majesty herself wants to say final words? ♪" Phenex gestured her hand in Charlie's direction.
All eyes turned to Charlie; some were confused, as not all Goetias noticed that Lucifer's daughter was here.
Charlie felt a knot form in her stomach, creeped out. She wasn't sure if she was ready to speak in front of all these demons, especially since she didn't know much about Ars Bael or the Goetia Demons. But she also didn't want to appear weak or disrespectful....and not be like her dad, who would rather insult them.
Hence, taking a deep breath, Charlie approached the electors, turned around, and cleared her throat; already the stress was forming.
"Um...hello everyone." Charlie made a little wave to them. She looked out at the crowd, taking in the faces of the Goetian demons, each one unique and with their own story to tell. "I...I didn't know Ars Bael, but I can see how much he meant to all of you." She paused for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and find the right words to say. "It's...it's really touching to see the loyalty and dedication you all have to him."
The Goetian Demons listened intently to Charlie, some of them nodding in acknowledgement, others just shrugged. Astaroth watched her with a neutral but uptight expression, while Phenex had a small smile of encouragement. Both didn't say anything, as they wanted to see what she would say to her subjects.
"It's...it's like a family, you know. And I know how important family is," Charlie said, her voice growing steadier as she continued. "I may not be a Goetian demon like all of you, but... I hope that we can all work together, like a family, to make Hell a better place for everyone."
The Goetias looked at each other; some shrugged; some scratched their feathers in an awkward motion. Clearly, it's not working in Charlie's favor, as they have no clue what the void she is talking about.
"Okay...maybe I'm not getting through to you." Charlie scratched her head, thinking on the solution...didn't take her long enough to come up with an idea....
Her classic idea.
"You know what, Goetias?" The Princess of Hell addressed the crowd, and she went to the coffin, leaning against it to begin her part. "I learned some things in existence are bad. They can really make you mad. Other things just make you swear and curse when you're chewing on a spirit's gristle."
"Is she-" Astaroth raised an eyebrow. Is her majesty singing right now?
"Don't grumble, give a whistle, and this'll help things turn out for the best!"
"And!"
"♪ Always look on the bright side of life ♪"
Charlie makes a whistle to the tune of a song.
"♪ Always look on the light side of life ♪"
Charlie once more whistles in her tune as she makes her way to Octavia.
"Charlie, what are you-" Octavia wasn't sure what she is doing.
"♪ If life seems jolly rotten ♪
"♪ There's something you've forgotten, Octavia. ♪"
"♪ And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing ♪"
Charlie then focuses on Stolas.
"♪ When you're feeling in the dumps. ♪"
"♪ Don't be silly Goetian chumps ♪"
"♪ Just purse your beak and whistle, that's the thing ♪"
"♪ Annnd ♪"
"♪ Always look on the bright side of life ♪"
Charlie once more whistles, but this time she hears Stolas joining in with her whistle.
"Dad, are you seriously -" Octavia blocked her beak from laughing; she wanted to complain a little bit more but was cut off by Charlie's enthusiasm.
"Now that's the spirit, Stolas! Come on, everyone!" Charlie encouraged everyone to join her and Prince of Goetia.
"♪ Always look on the right side of life! ♪"
Charlie and Stolas whistled together...now with Phenex joining in with her perfect whistling and finger flickering.
"Great Marquise, behave in front -" Duke Astaroth wanted to object, but Phenex just flipped him off and continued.
[Charlie: Solo]
"♪ For life is quite absurd ♪"
"♪ And death's the final word ♪"
"♪ You must always face the curtain with a bow ♪"
"♪ Forget about your sin ♪"
"♪ Give the audience a grin ♪"
"♪ Enjoy it, it maybe your last chance anyhow! ♪" The Kings of Ars Goetia, except Paimon, joined to Charlie's singing
"♪ So! ♪"
"♪ Always look on the bright side of death! ♪"
More and more Goetias are joining in on Charlie's singing and whistling; even Octavia bobbed her head in rhythm...unholy shit...never thought that Charlie's singing was so catchy.
"♪ A just before you draw your terminal breath ♪"
"Ah fuck it." Octavia said to herself, joining for the solo part. Stella raised her eyebrow at Octavia's lack of willpower. Unlike her, she at least resisted... hard.
[Octavia: Solo]
"♪ Life's a piece of shit ♪"
"♪ When you look at it ♪"
"♪ Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true ♪"
[Charlie: Solo]
"♪ You'll see it's all a show ♪"
"♪ Keep 'em laughin' as you go ♪"
"♪ Just remember that the last laugh is on you ♪"
"♪ And ♪"
"♪ Always look on the bright side of life ♪"
Since her majesty ruined the mood of the funeral and seeing there is no point of standard procedures, Astaroth went to Paimon, wanting to just get it over with.
"Lord Paimon, I think you should just bring our Ars Bael to our Ars Belial's resting place at this point."
Without saying anything, Paimon simply turned and went to where the rest of Kings are singing.
"Come on, fellow Kings. Let's end this charade." Paimon commanded the singing Kings to grab the coffin.
"♪ Always look on the right side of life ♪"
"C'mon, Mom. Stop being so uptight bitch and join us!" Octavia exclaimed, clapping to the rhythm of the song and enjoying her time.
Stella only gave one second glare at Octavia and back at singing Charlie, watching this party of clowns having fun. No matter how she tried, the Princess of Hell has that infecting behavior that makes Stella...smile. But every time she reminded that both her father Andras and brother Andrealphus are standing right behind her, unfazed by Charlie's singing, it made her strengthen her uptight expression, preventing her from grinning and smiling....Andras killed for lesser reasons.
"♪ Always look on the bright side of life! ♪"
Despite the Kings are brining the coffin to Mausoleum, the rest of Kings, except Paimon are still singing the song.
"♪ I mean, what have you got to lose, Paimon? You know Bael came from nothing! ♪" King Beleth laughed, singing as he assisted his fellow Kings to bring their dead Ars to rest with another Ars.
"♪ Always look on the bright side of life! ♪"
"Quiet, you insufferable cat fuck!" Paimon cursed, back hurting from carrying the coffin.
"♪ Always look on the bright side of life! ♪"
"Cheer up ya old bugga. C'mon give us at least grin!" King Purson had to join on Beleth's side. Old Paimon is getting grumpy.
"♪ Always look on the bright side of life! ♪"
"I will rip you all apart once I gain the Ars title!" Paimon threatened, still carrying the coffin with the other kings. The insults that the Kings of Goetia exchanged drifted far away before they disappeared from the rest of Goetia's vision.
"♪ Always look on the bright side of life!♪" Charlie made a dramatic gesture, ending the song once and for all. It earned a lot of applause from the Goetias, while the Electors, with the exception of Phenex, were all uptight and deadpanned on Charlie. Having energetic Goetias only makes them ineffective when it comes to duties.
"Alright, alight. You have your fun, everyone. The funeral's over!" Astaroth shooed them away before directing his attention at "Stella, Andrealphus, and Andras Goetia. Report to Lemegeton's House of Commons in the next two hours. I don't take any excuses for your daughter's absence."
"You heard him. To the carriage, you big fuck up." Marquis Andras, too, was quite harsh with his tone.
"Yes, papa." Stella reluctantly nodded; she had no power to argue with him as she followed her father away from this valley.
With that, most of the Goetias dispersed, some returning to their own homes while others went to socialize and comfort each other after the loss of their Ars Bael. The Electors still remained, along with Octavia and Stolas. There are still some unfinished business issues to solve.
"Damm, Charlie. How're you so good at this?!" Octavia expressed herself, even feeling jealous. Stolas too nodded to Octavia's words, very impressed by heir's singing skills.
"My dad's been in the choir back in his days." Charlie responded with a grin, happy to have impressed Octavia. She didn't believe at first, but she actually managed to make things better by her singing...a very good chance of pace...Vaggie will be so proud of her.
"♪ And it shows! Bravo, bravo! ♪ " Phenex Goetia clapped her hands, walking to Charlie. "♪ Oh, your majesty. You do sing like a heavenly choir, hmm yes! ♪"
"Why, thank you, Miss...uhh?" Charlie awkwardly chuckled, not remembering the Marquise's name. Phenex delightfully smiled even more from this, expecting that her majesty wouldn't remember all of her future subjects.
"Charlie, this is my Great-Aunt Phenex Goetia: 37th spirit of Lemegeton and Elector of Marquises." Octavia quickly fixed the awkwardness between them.
"Ah, of course. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Marquis Phenex." Charlie greeted, with a simple nod.
"♪ The pleasure is all mine, my lady. ♪" Phenex kneeled in front of Charlie; she is probably the first one to give proper respect to Charlie in this valley. "♪ Oh, my dear. You have such potential to bring great change to our Inferno. If anyone can stop the Exterminations on this plane, it's only you, no one else! ♪"
"Oh...wow." Charlie was taken aback by the Marquise's words, words can't describe what she felt...
"Don't mind her, Charlie. She can be patronizing sometimes, especially to me." Octavia joked with a smirk.
"♪ Oh, you silly chick." Phenex chuckled flatteringly, standing up on her heels and walking up to Octavia, gently taking the owl's left hand and covering it with her own. "♪ What type of aunt won't patronize her most favorite great-niece in all Nine Rings, hmm yes? ♪"
"Not helping, Aunt!" Octavia yanked her hand away and rolled her eyes playfully. Still, the young demon couldn't help but smile at Phenex's sweet tune of words. The only who didn't enjoy their tender moment is...Stolas. He observed them with an uptight manner and crossed arms.
"Hey, Stolas. What's wrong?" Charlie noticed Stolas' discomfort.
Stolas hesitated for a moment before responding. "It's nothing, your majesty."
Phenex raised an eyebrow at Stolas' response, a hint of amusement in her eyes. The Great Marquis did notice Stolas' discomfort and turned to face him with a sassy smirk.
"♪ Oh, dear Prince Stolas. Don't tell me you're feeling threatened by a little old me? ♪" She tilted her head to the side, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "♪ Or could it be that you're just jealous, hmm yes? ♪"
"No, my Elector." Stolas replied with a forced smile. His expression darkened at Phenex's words, but he kept his composure. "I am just not fond of the elector's attempts to sway Octavia."
"♪ What makes you think I'm trying to do that? Sweetie, I don't need to flatter her to win her favor. ♪" Phenex teased, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she flashed a smug smile. Prince Stolas gritted his teeth, clearly not amused by Phenex's sass. "♪ You know Octavia is a strong and independent woman. She can make her own decisions, hmm yes. ♪"
Octavia just shrugged at her dad as Phenex was kind of right on her point, plus she is a very cool aunt...and that sass of hers...Devildamn, it's awesome. As for the Electors, Astaroth and the rest just watched as their fellow Elector "burned" Stolas alive...with sickening degrees that Morax regrets not bringing popcorn for this show.
"I had to experience all suffering in my entire life for what your niece did to me. Be happy I didn't throw Stella out as soon as Octavia was born." Stolas clenched his fists, clearly irritated by Phenex's nonchalant attitude.
"♪ Don't bullshit me, Prince. ♪" Phenex simply smirked at Stolas' words, unimpressed by his threats. "♪ Both my Stella and Paimon got you by your ass so hard you could not say no to anything. Even when you had the audacity to file for divorce on Stella, your daddy disowned you, and you made Andras your new enemy. ♪"
"At least I had the balls" to do that!" Stolas defended himself.
"♪ Prince Stolas, even I have more 'balls' than you ever will have in your life. ♪" Phenex retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "♪ And guess what? I don't have any, hmm yes. ♪"
"Ouch...no offense to you, Dad. But that was a five-degree burn. Some of my peers that I know would not have survived." Octavia commented, just observing the feud between her dad and Great-Aunt.
"♪ What can I say, Octavia. Phoenix Demon afterall. ♪" Phenex winked at Octavia before once more giving Stolas all of her attention. The Prince's own anger was reaching its boiling point, and his fists were clenching even tighter.
"You know nothing of what I had to go through! Everything I do is out of love for my Octavia, even enduring the abuse that Stella gave me!"
"♪ What part of "Everything i do is out of love to my Octavia" is your fucking some random Imp in bed? ♪" Phenex again in her repertoire, the smug smile never leaving her face.
"My Blitzø is not some random imp!"
"My dossier on him says otherwise, Prince Stolas." Duke-Elector Astaroth had to say this. "I never thought that in parenthood, it was an Ars Goetian custom to bring some pleb in the bed to then fuck him."
"♪ And besides, it's not like you're discreet about it. ♪" Phenex added, smiling once again. "♪ That "Blitzø" of yours practically lives in your mansion, hmm yes. ♪"
"With all respect, but that's none of your business with who I'm sleeping with, my Electors. " Stolas's face turned bright red in anger and embarrassment. He couldn't believe that his private life was being discussed so openly in front of everyone.
"It becomes our business when it starts to affect your duties as a Prince, Stolas Goetia" Prince Vassago replied calmly. "Again, my sympathy to you, brother. But as your superior, I have my responsibility to ensure that you are upholding your duties to Ars and King Lucifer."
"At the end of the day, Stolas. I know my Stella like my five claws. ♪" Phenex wants to add important detail. "♪ If you'd been more assertive and more challenging to Stella's abuse. She would have fallen in line. But no, you were too weak and too soft on her, allowing her to gain confidence and torment you for the rest of the day. ♪"
"I will never stoop so low to do that!" Stollas hissed.
"♪ Then I'm very impressed that you survived for a long time with us, Prince. You're a part of Ars Goetia; the cutthroat politics is what defines us, whether you like it or not, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex's expression turned serious....even to the point that she stopped singing. "But instead of fulfilling your duties as Prince Goetia, you've done nothing but bitch about your Dad, didn't keep Stella in line even though she is not even a main 72 pillar, and carved for sex and fetishized Imps while you neglected your own child's needs! You're the embodiment of failure so much that Ars Bael himself died from your cringe, hmm yes."
"Okay? What do you want me to do then, Marquise!? Lick Stella's cunt again?!" Stolas had enough of this gaslighting.
"Be a fucking demon once in your life and think of your daughter's needs, not for some imp dick and him giving you a "facial" shot!" Phenex snarled back, being assertive towards him. "I'm sick and tired of Goetias thinking about sex and not about their responsibility to their family and to their kingdom. If you can't handle being a father and a prince! Then you should step down and let someone else take your place who can take care of Octavia!"
"Ouch..." Octavia muttered...felt right into her own spirit.
"No hard feelings to you. You know I love you to the end." Phenex gently laid her hand on Octavia's shoulder, smiling at her. At the end of the day, she just wants Octavia to be happy and not influenced by Stella and Stolas' excuses. Octavia is the future of Ars Goetia: the third generation of Goetia since the War in Heaven.
Stolas was taken aback by the harshness of Phenex's words. He couldn't believe that the Elector was speaking to him in such a manner. He knew that he had been neglectful of his duties and his daughter, but hearing it from someone else, especially from Phenex, was a bitter pill to swallow.
"Via.." Stolas muttered. "Did I...am I a bad father to you?"
"Of course not, Dad. it just-" Octavia tries to properly find the words. "At times, I really wished that you would spend more time with me...not with Blitzø or having your emotions getting the better of you.”
“But I... never...meant to hurt you.” Stolas pleaded.
“I know.” Octavia said solemnly. ”That's why it hurts when you did.”
Stolas looked at Octavia, and his heart broke seeing the disappointment in her eyes. He lowered his head, taking a deep sigh, before glancing up at Phenex.
"Would Stella have agreed to a truce for the sake of our child?"
"♪ Hard to say. ♪" Phenex slowly nodded. "♪ Stella's sole reason was to deliver our Octavia into this Inferno as a precautionary heir to house Paimon, with Andras' bloodline in her. Your controversy with Blitzø caused a diplomatic incident that made Andras furious at Stella for not controlling you properly. She hated you, sure, but like you, you had Paimon staring at your back while Andras stared at hers...both would say no to your divorce. ♪"
"So you're blaming Paimon and Andras for that?" Astaroth crossed his arms, seeing Phenex switch arrows.
"♪ Yes, and I'm not ashamed to say this, Lord Astaroth. ♪" Phenex dared back. "♪ Political marriages are a vile thing in the end. Back in the early days, simple diplomacy skills allowed us to form alliances without selling our children into loveless marriages, hmm yes. I know it because I didn't had to marry Andras to form our House. ♪"
Astaroth sighed...to much "Reformist" this Phoenix Demon is. Arguing with her is like trying to convince a child; it produces no results whatsoever.
"Your opinion is noted, Great Marquis" Astaroth dismissively stated, walking up to Octavia. "Now, miss Octavia. I believe you have something for your Elector?"
Octavia looked at the grimoire she had held this entire time and simply handed it over to Vassago. The Prince-Elector examined it and hummed before addressing the young owlet.
"My legionnaires reported to me that you went into the tomb with our majesty...care to explain your actions?"
Octavia cleared her throat as Vassago sounded almost passive-aggressive to her. She looked at Charlie for the solution, but the Princess of Hell simply gestured that she should just be open about it...
"With all respect, Prince Vassago" Octavia started, slightly nervous. "But you told me I cannot have any Goetian help..."
"Yes...so?" Vassago raised an eyebrow.
" Goetian help..." Octavia noted her tone, with Phenex's smile even getting bigger as she knew Octavia's cunning move. "Her Majesty is not a Goetia; thus, technically, I didn't have any help...no rules were broken by me..."
"Huh...you're quite right." Vassago slowly nodded, seeing the wisdom in the young one. Quite an impressive. The only one who wasn't impressed is Astaroth, who was baffled by it. The audacity of that kid is beyond his reasoning.
"You hear this shit? That brat tries to outsmart us!" Astaroth went to his fellow electors to complain.
"♪ How about you turn on your brains for at least a second and think for yourself, Astaroth. ♪ " Phenex taunted, tapping her finger against her forehead. "♪ Octavia showed her cunning and intellect to solve the task. ♪ "
"I have to agree with Phenex, Astaroth." Vassago nodded, joining Phenex's side.
Astaroth frowned, seeing he doesn't have any support. He looked once more at Octavia and sneered at her before addressing his decision. "All complaints are revoked against Miss Octavia."
"Very good, I will write a report before I announce my decision, but know I'm quite proud of your demonstration of cunning skill." Vassago nodded before looking back at his fellow Electors. "See you all in Lemegeton, Electors."
Vassago would march away with his legionnaires, leaving Octavia, Charlie, Phenex, and Astaroth behind. Phenex then turned to Octavia with a small smile, wishing to express the impressive move.
"♪ Well done, Octavia! ♪"
"Thanks, Aunt...I guess." Octavia shrugged, still in the dark. "I still don't understand why he needed me to do it."
"That's up to us to decide at the end of the day." Astaroth is always explained vaguely. "Just know your presence is required during your parent's trial, young Octavia."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, and that's an order... precautionary heir ." Astaroth reminded her of her duty, narrowing his eyes in distrust.
"♪ Sorry, my little owlet. That's the rule, hmm yes. ♪"
Octavia let out a small sigh...typical Goetias and rubbish rules.
"Fine...whatever." The Young Owl Demon threw her hand and stormed away, much to Stolas' and Phenex's worry. They both looked at each other and agreed with their expressions that she needs all the comfort right now.
"Go and talk with her, both of you. She needs all the help from you." Charlie advised.
Phenex and Stolas both looked at each other and agreed with their expressions that Octavia needs all the comfort she can get right now and that their conflict is not needed here. Hence nodding to the princess out of respect, the prince and great marquis rushed after Octavia, exclaiming Octavia just to get her to stop for a moment. Now it leaves Charlie with Astaroth, finally able to proceed what Charlie wanted to in the first place.
"I understand that seeing these two ruins your impression on us, your Majesty." Astaroth comes forward. "But I assure you, these things happen so rarely. Ars Goetia is functional as long as you need us."
"No one is immune to family issues...even the Deadly Sins." Charlie said, staring at Phenex and Stolas, who were disappearing from her view.
"Strength is all that matters in Inferno. There is no place for a weakness, especially against who we stand."
"There's still room for compassion and understanding, even in Inferno." Charlie argued back, her tone serious.
Astaroth chuckled dryly. "That's a luxury we cannot afford most of the time, especially as Exterminators wreck our homes, our capital cities, and everything that we stand for. But your victory only gives us strength to fight back."
Charlie nodded, respecting Astaroth's opinions on the matter, but she didn't want to argue further, hence she went straight forward.
"I was hoping to talk with you, Duke Astaroth."
"So my Legionnaires were right..." Astaroth hummed, surprised. "Normally, when an Heir of Inferno visits the Goetian Necropolis, only skepticism and distrust forms in my mind. And yet, here you are, standing here and seeking my presence...can't say whether I should be honored by this or terrified."
"Neither, for it's not my dad's scheming or anything. I really came here for my own fruition." Charlie assured him. She once more glanced at her bandaged hand, squeezing it before starting to tell. "I was told that you and I could come to an agreement."
"Who said that?" Astaroth's intrigue got bigger.
"I know it sounds insane, but..." Charlie chuckled, not believing that she would say this. "The Devil himself told me."
"The Devil himself?" He repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. Astaroth had to blink twice, three times, or twelve times at her statement. "Forgive me, your Majesty, but I never thought I would take you for a religious demon. We do respect Dis's beliefs, but Ars Goetia prefers to uphold their own set of beliefs."
To prove her point, Charlie moved her bandages slightly and revealed the mark of the devil on her. Astaroth bent a bit to see it for himself. His eyes widened as he saw the mark on Charlie's hand.
"I'll be double-damned...you have the same symbol as Ars Bael had." He muttered under his breath. He straightened up and looked at her in suspicion in silence...before stating his opinion. "Forgive me, your Majesty, but I find it hard to believe that the Devil himself would approach you with an offer. It would seem-"
"YOUR MAJESTIES, WATCH OUT!"
"What now!?" Astaroth turned around, only to see a column falling on him.
Without thinking twice, Charlie quickly reacted and pulled Astaroth away from the falling column, shielding him with her body as they both fell to the ground. As the dust settled, Charlie pushed herself up and checked on Astaroth.
"Are you okay, Duke?" She asked, worried if he is dead. But Astaroth coughed as the dust filled his lungs. He rasped, rubbing his eyes.
"I'm fine. Thank you, your Majesty." The Duke immediately got on his legs and stormed towards one of his Goetian Legionnaires, grabbing the soldier by his plated arm. "I told you to make sure this place is safe!"
"B-But, my lord, we did check the area for any potential threats!" The Legionnaire stuttered in response,
"Clearly not well enough if ruins are collapsing on us!" Astaroth growled, releasing the soldier's arm before deciding to check it by himself. The Duke went to the column and examined the damage, his expression darkening with horror as he came to a verdict.
"This was no accident..." He muttered as he noticed a text on the column...stating this.
"No-one dares question the will of darkness. For it's our master through our Ars."
"It seems your pleading is not as straightforward as I had hoped, your majesty." Astaroth scowled at the words, knowing that they were a warning to him. "Very well then...is there something I can help you with?"
"Okay..." Charlie nodded, grateful that Astaroth was willing to help despite the unexpected danger. "I presume you know I run the hotel in Pentagram City since you're...handle the Treasury matters of Inferno. Well...it's just that I had some problems that....well my hotel lost its "royal property" status..." Charlie trailed off at the end, very ashamed of mentioning this.
"Lost the 'royal property' status?" Astaroth raised an eyebrow.
"Well, it's a bit complicated." Charlie hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Let's just say that there was a...disagreement between me and your King. And he may have used his influence to revoke my hotel's status...so yeah."
"Let me guess, your hotel cannot sustain that status?" Astaroth rubbed his chin, thinking it through.
"Exactly." Charlie nodded. "Without that status, it will be tough trying to keep the hotel running...not to mention the risk of going bankrupt and losing it to King Mammon."
"I see...." Astaroth hummed in thought. The duke would bring his hand to his face, stroking his beak. After a moment of silence and with Charlie eagerly waiting, Astaroth then lowered his hand and looked back at Charlie. "Perhaps I can see why you were directed to me, as there is something in my power that I can do to help you, your Majesty."
"Really?" Charlie sounded so sincere, full of hope for her hotel's future...
But that's Ars Goetia we're talking about.
"However." Astaroth immediately warned, preventing Charlie from going full "hope" on him. "You asked, unfortunately, at an inappropriate time. With the trial happening on Prince Stolas and Stella Goetia, I along with the electors, must travel to the Lemegeton. Once I'm done with the whole trial procedure, then I shall give my full attention to you."
"I understand..." Charlie's face fell at the news...but she wasn't too bitter about it. "But this trial...is this really necessary?"
"Yes, it is." Astaroth's tone was serious. "Prince Stolas and Stella Goetia have committed a serious crime and will be answered according the order of law. However, even I see it's only to be done to satiate the bloodlust of other Goetias to remove both House Paimon and Andras-Phenexia from the picture."
"How come?"
"Because every elector sees that Paimon will be the next Ars, your highness. Think about it: what happens when one of his sons is found guilty? Then Paimon's reputation will be shunned and seen as a liability. Then, of course, other kings can put their stakes in this great game."
"So it's not just about justice but also about power and influence?" Charlie was baffled a bit.
"Indeed, your Majesty," Astaroth confirmed. "But as an elector, it's my duty to ensure that the trial is conducted fairly and impartially in line with rules of law. And once the trial is done, I will devote my full attention to your problem."
"Thank you, Astaroth," Charlie said gratefully. "But where could I find you after the trial?"
"In Lemegeton, your highness. I also invite you to oversee the trial yourself. Having you could at least show that an Heir of Inferno is interested in Ars Goetian affairs...and maybe you could ease up the scheming in the trial."
Charlie sighed at that. Normally, she would have declined to be involved in such a politically charged trial. But then again, Octavia will be there as well....and Astaroth had a point.
"I will consider it, Astaroth," Charlie said after a moment of thought. "I'll need to discuss this with one of my peers first. But thank you for offering."
"Of course, your Majesty. But if you accept it, head to the House of Commons in Lemegeton, a large citadel-like building at the center of the city. With that, I must take my leave from you and head towards the Mausoleum to check on the Kings." Astaroth bowed respectfully. "Until we meet again, your Majesty...I look forward to working with you for the betterment of Inferno."
"Safe travels to you." Charlie said, returning the nod.
With a respectful nod in return, Duke Astaroth turned around and made his way out of Charlie's view, leaving the Princess of Hell to her thoughts.
"Well...at least it's progress." Charlie muttered. On one side, she felt a glimmer of hope for her hotel's future now that Astaroth has confirmed he can help her out...but as Vaggie once said, she must be better than to count her chickens before they hatch. And now she is involving herself in Goetia affairs.
Time and time again, she tried to separate her hotel from her kingdom's cog machine. It only makes her wonder how it will be in the end...how much Charlie must involve herself in infernal affairs in order to save many Sinners?
"You should have been more demanding, Child Of Dark Lord."
"Who said that?" Charlie called out as the voice came out of nowhere.
"Here, unholy one."
Charlie turned around and nearly felt it on her butt, as a shadowy creature stood uncomfortably close to her.
"Sweet Sin!" Charlie cursed to herself, gripping her chest....could had a heart attack if she were a mortal human.
"I'm not a sweet, I'm the nightmare of every mortal in their life!" Sin scowled, not appreciating the Anti-One calling her sweet.
"Well, you're not helping by scaring me off with your sudden appearances!" Charlie complained.
Sin chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Charlie's spine. "Fear and despair are my specialties, my dear. But I didn't come here just to give you a fright. I heard your conversation with Astaroth."
Charlie's eyes widened in surprise. "You were eavesdropping? That's not very polite, you know..."
"I cannot eavesdrop, for I don't know how to do it." My little children in you all tell the tales of their hosts to me, their strives and anguishes, their love and fear. So tasteful and yet so hungry, I'm for more..."
"That's...a little creepy, to be honest." Charlie frowned, feeling a bit uncomfortable with Sin's words.
"Perhaps. But it's not without purpose. You see, I couldn't help but notice that you're getting involved in Goetian affairs. And I must say, I find that quite interesting."
"And why is that?" Charlie crossed her arms
"Because, my dear, you are the Princess of Hell, the heir to the throne. You have power and influence beyond measure. And yet, you've chosen to use that power for good, to help those in need, to bring about change...it's very strange. Use me and your influunece to dominate and command them. You don't need to come up with some agreement. With me, you can have darkness to rule over them."
"I don't want to dominate or command anyone. That's not the kind of demon I want to be." Charlie's eyes narrowed, not trusting the shadowy creature.
"Pity. You always could have been so much more. But I suppose it's not surprising. You've always been different from the rest of us. But as my Father, unhallowed by his name, ordered me to serve you...I shall be your whisper in web of deception."
"What do you mean by that?" Charlie asked, her curiosity piqued.
"In realm of darkness, everyone lies and hides their intention. But their Sins doesn't lie to me...for I'm their shadow in every step."
"I'm not sure I follow..." Charlie furrowed her brow, still unsure of what Sin was trying to say.
Sin chuckled, her voice low and menacing. "I can help you uncover the true intentions of those around you. The Goetians are a tricky bunch, always with their own agendas and schemes. But with me by your side, you'll be able to see through their deceptions and make informed decisions."
Charlie hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to rely on Sin's help, given that...she or " it" is a sin Herself. But at the same time, she couldn't deny that the Goetians were a difficult group to navigate, and any advantage she could get would be useful...especially with Astaroth.
"I'll consider it, Sin" Charlie said finally, still not fully committed. "That's all I can promise."
"Then let the Inferno tremble in your might, Anti-One." The Sin's form of fog would poof, some of them retreating to Charlie's bandaged hand. "For your will is my command, Anti-One."
Charlie watched as Sin disappeared into her hand before squeezing it and releasing a breath. She knew that sin was a powerful thing...but she also knew that her motives were not entirely pure...just like the Devil's. But as Azazel said...it's up to Charlie to use the Devil's abilities for her own benefit.
Wasting no more of her time in this Necropolis, The Princess of Hell went back to the entrance of the valley, where Cain and Razzle should be waiting for her. Most carriages are gone at this point, with a few remaining.
Surprisingly, Charlie found out that Cain is having fun...by throwing Razzle as far as he could into the air. Her goat boy seemed to enjoy it, crashing against the rock that would normally hurt a demon before he eagerly ran towards Cain, wanting more.
"Can you please stop throwing my boy around like that?" Charlie sighed, shaking her head at Cain's antics.
"Aw, come on, C.M. He loves it!" Cain turned to her, grinning mischievously. "Besides, he is your toy, so who cares?"
"He is not a toy, Cain. He is a living creature."
“A living creature who loves being thrown around," Cain countered, picking up Razzle and aims him at the air. "Have a nice trip, goat pal!"
The First Murderer once more threw Razzle into the air, making Charlie's companion spin in the air and have the time of his existence. The Princess shook her head again, but she couldn't help but smile at the sight of Razzle happily running back to Cain for more.
"So...I managed to talk with Astaroth, and things...got complicated."
"Let me guess: a new wedding on the horizon?" Cain taunted, waiting for Razzle to run up to him. "Who's next? You and Octavia in a loveless marriage?"
"Cain, she is my Goetian Cousin." Charlie didn't enjoy the joke.
"Aha...like that stopped the royal families before...sweet home Ars Goetia, my ass."
Charlie rolled her eyes, deciding just to ignore Cain's crap. "Anyway, long story short, we need to go to Lemegeton now."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Cain's expression darkened. "You want us now to go to a city of snobs who drink tea and laugh at poor demons every hour?"
"I know, but it's really important to me that my Hotel will continue to work." Charlie sighed; Cain does have a point on that remark, but there is nothing she can do.
"How about you stop thinking about the Hotel for a moment and think differently?" Cain sneered at her, grabbing Razzle in his arms. "You're too obsessed with the whole extermination thing. Let the sinners die in agony. At least they will be put out of their misery."
Charlie's expression hardened as she stared at Cain, as if he had hurt her feelings.
"Look, Cain. I just want to help demons who want to turn their lives around," Charlie replied firmly. "And if that means going to Lemegeton to make sure my hotel stays open, then so be it. I don't give a crap what you think about me and my Hotel."
Cain sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Quit busting your tits, Charlie. Fine, we'll go to Lemegeton, but this will be our last charade. I'm sick and tired of Goetias at this point. One Goetian woman already tried to ask my hand for marriage...I told her to shove off her cloaca to someone else..."
"It wasn't a Goetian swan by chance?"
Both Cain and Charlie looked to the left and saw that Octavia is back, her eyelashes melted a bit.
"No, some kind of magpie. Why does it matter, owlet?" Cain finished his sentence, distrustful of the young princess.
"Just making sure...you know how desperate some Goetias can be..." Octavia released a breath. "I heard you both going to Lemegeton, right?"
"Well yeah..." Charlie looked at Cain for a moment before looking back at Octavia. "Why are you asking?"
"Can I come with you? I just want to be away from my dad...you know." Octavia awkwardly touched her cheek, not 100% sure how to say this.
"She lies to you, Anti-One. This "Octavia" seeks to distance herself from her dad. Fear engulfs as her imagination of Stolas Goetia's body on the gallows erupts in her mind."
"Some lesser part of her wants to end her existence...boiling steadily."
"How delightful!"
"Are you sure you're okay, Octavia?" Charlie's heart sank as she heard Sin's words in her mind.
"Yes, I'm fine. I just need to get away from my dad for a bit. He can be...overbearing at times." Octavia nodded quickly, but her eyes betrayed her. "So can I come along?"
The Princess of Hell looked at Cain for his verdict, as he was the driver. The Vampire Lord returned the glance for a short second at Charlie before looking back at Octavia.
"Tell me, goth chick. Do you have any daddy issues?"
"I guess..." Octavia wasn't sure what the point of his question was.
"Welcome aboard...you on the back seat." Cain sighed, going to his car.
"YES!" Octavia exclaimed, clapping her hands once.
Charlie raised an eyebrow at Cain's question but didn't say anything. But not wasting her time, she grabbed Razzle and followed Cain to the car, getting into the front passenger seat while Octavia eagerly jumped into the back of Cain's Porsche. Good thing Octavia is not tall enough; otherwise, she couldn't have fit herself in the car.
"Are you sure about coming with us, Via?" Charlie turned back to Octavia as Cain started the car with the ignition keys.
"Well, duh!" Octavia didn't understand Charlie's clingy behavior toward her. "I mean, look at us: three adult demons and no one telling us what to do! What else could I want right now?"
"Fair point..."Charlie chuckled at Octavia's enthusiasm. "Just know that Cain sucks at driving as he does with blood drinking."
"Haha, a vampire joke. How cute of you." Cain rolled his eyes at Charlie's comment. "I have been driving for centuries, while you don't even have a driver's license, Charlie."
"Centuries, huh?" Charlie teased."That's not saying much, considering you're a vampire and you don't age."
"Hey, don't hate the player; hate the game, doll," Cain retorted with a smirk.
"Just try not to crash the car, okay?" Charlie just shook her head, still smiling. "I don't feel like dealing with the hassle of insurance claims straight from Greed Ring."
"Yeah, let's hope it doesn't come to that. The corporate overlords in Greed tend to squeeze out everything these days." Octavia giggled from the backseat, taking out her phone and her earbuds to tune up her favorite playlist for the trip.
With the car loaded up and everyone settled in, Cain hit the gas and sped off from the land of dead Goetias.
Next Stop: Lemegeton.
The modern Capital Of Ars Goetia.
Notes:
For those who are curious:
The whole "Elector" thing on this Chapter is actually a historical thing in Holy Roman Empire. Check this source if you're interested about it:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince-elector
I was inspired by a lot of stuff from Holy Roman Empire for the Ars Goetia, hence the things like Ars (Which pretty much means "Emperor") The Electorate, and the whole "The Holy Roman Empire was neither Holy, nor Roman, nor an Empire" will be here.
Also The "Original Stolas Goetia" is based on Louis Le Breton's design. Back in a day, I planned some stuff with Stolas and his..."Ars Paulina" siblings as he was an Fallen Angel. But then episode came out and I had to scrap completely.
Here is the design if you don't know what I mean:
https://mythus.fandom.com/wiki/Stolas
Chapter 27: Scheming, The Old Goetian Art
Summary:
"You are the worst kind of liar. You justify your actions. If you see a need, your arrogance precludes you from ever considering that there may be an alternative aside from your scheming and manipulations." - Sophie Jordan
Chapter Text
September 21, 2025, AD (102 Days Before the Next Purge), 14:41 PM.
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/Few Miles Away from Lemegeton.
The rolling hills of the Eighth Ring stretched out for miles, with dense thickets of gnarled trees and underbrush interspersed with rocky outcroppings. As far as the eye could see, the jagged mountain ranges of "The Valley of Ars Belial" rose up against the skyline, casting long shadows over the desolate landscape.
The land of Blasphemy Ring was barren and lifeless, save for the occasional skeletal tree or twisted vine. The ground was scorched black, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of brimstone and occasional smoke. But as the air grew colder and sharper, even if it was afternoon for the entire Inferno, the sulfurous stench was replaced by the biting chill of frost.
That's why Cain fucking despises the Ring of Blasphemy/Ring of Fraud, or whatever the Inferno prefers to call it these days. Even as a vampire lord, the cold weather in Blasphemy FUCKING SUCKS! Seriously, the endless cold breeze in the annual human year and mild blizzard can take a toll on vampire demons, not to mention how difficult it is to drive in between the snowstorms.
While Cain grumbled, Charlie sat in the front passenger seat while Octavia was in the backseat of the car. The young owlet didn't bother with safety rules and instead lied down, arms up, as she texted Loona while listening to her playlist with one earbud.
Charlie, on the other hand, used her own phone to scribble down the wrong words for the little game she did with Octavia, just to beat some boredom.
"Alright, so it's a cartoon, a character from the cartoon, and doesn't associate with our Hell Cartoons...is it a human cartoon, Via?"
"Yeah..." Octavia mumbled, busier with texting than listening to Charlie.
Charlie scribbled again before asking further. "Is it a human character?"
"Nope"
"Um... an animal character, perhaps?" Charlie presumed, to which Octavia nodded. The Princess of Hell tapped her chin and furrowed her brow in deep thought. She ran through a mental list of popular animal characters from various cartoons she was familiar with. After a moment, she looked up at Octavia and asked her next.
"Is it a bird?"
"Nope, not a bird." Octavia glanced up from her phone, tilted her head, and replied with a grin. "But good try. Just because I'm Goetia doesn't mean I like bird characters in cartoons immediately."
"Hmm..." Charlie narrowed her eyes and continued her mental exploration. "Some kind of mammal, then?"
"Yes, it is a mammal." Octavia nodded.
Charlie's face lit up with a spark of recognition. "Oh, a horse by chance?!"
"Technically, it's a pony, but you're kind of correct," Octavia said with a smile, nodding in agreement.
"Okay, so it's a mammal and a pony..." Charlie mumbled to herself, deep in thought, trying to narrow down the possibilities. "Is it a magical pony?"
"Yep," Octavia replied, a hint of a grin on her face. It was time to either cash out or lose the bet.
"Oh, I think I know who it is!" Charlie's eyes widened with excitement. "Twilight Sparkle from My Little Pony!?"
"Well, I had Princess Luna in mind, but you......you really know the show?!" Octavia's eyes widened in surprise, now focusing her attention fully on Charlie instead of her phone.
Cain was equally baffled by it. He even removed his aviators and gave Charlie an expression that clearly said, "What the fuck?"
"Of course, I used to watch it all the time back when it first came out." Charlie grinned, slightly taken aback by their reaction.
"Well, thanks to you, Loona now owes me 50 souls." Octavia burst into laughter for a moment, never believing she would win a bet with Loona. "But I did watch some of the later episodes. Who’s your favorite pony, Charlie?"
"Either Twilight or Pinkie Pie...and yours, Octavia?"
"I mentioned it already. It's Princess Luna, which is not surprising. I adore her character, especially in the episode 'Do Princesses Dream of Magic Sheep?' That episode really delved into Luna's character and her journey to overcome her fears and guilt."
"I have no mouth, and I must scream..." Cain grumbled under his breath, finding it hard to believe what he was hearing right now.
"My favorite is the 'Canterlot Wedding' two-part episode, actually." Charlie gave her opinion.
"The one where Chrysalis is revealed?" Octavia assumed.
"Yeah, it's the episode where Cadence and Shining Armor get married, and it turns out Cadence was actually Chrysalis. Remember?"
"Oh, right! I remember now!" Octavia gently slapped her forehead, amazed at how much time had passed since it aired. "Shit, I was like, what, 9 years old when it came out? The whole changeling invasion and the fighting...man, it was the peak of MLP."
"Definetly...good times." Charlie chuckled, finding it charming that they shared a moment of nostalgic reflection, transported back to a time of innocent wonder and magical adventures...definitely good times.
"I didn't expect a discussion about My Little Pony in the middle of our journey to Lemegeton." Cain couldn't help but interject, his voice dripping with boredom. "But hey, it's nice to see you two having some lighthearted moments amidst it all."
"Oh, come on, Cain." Charlie turned to Cain with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Even demon hunters need a break from the chaos once in a while. Plus, you can't deny the power of friendship and magic!"
Cain couldn't help but roll his eyes at her remark.
"Can I have a word with you, Charlie?"
"Yes, Cain?" Charlie responded, busy rubbing Razzle's chin.
"Shove your 'Friendship and Magic' up your ass and let the rainbow flow, you fucking dendrophile." Cain retorted, his dry humor punctuating his words.
Octavia burst into laughter, unable to contain herself. "Alright, mister, sunglasses all the time. What's your favorite cartoon, then?"
The first murderer didn't provide the answer at first, awkwardly observing the road as he drove the car. At least Lemegeton could be seen from a distance at this point.
"Cain?" Charlie also pushed, wondering about it as well.
"Do you really want to know?" Cain said it eerily, as if it were some kind of disturbing secret.
"Sure, it's not like I'm not familiar with black humor." Charlie shrugged at that.
Cain once again made a quick glance at Charlie before returning to the road and finally letting out.
"Happy Tree Friends"
Cain's admission hung in the air, momentarily silencing the laughter that had filled the car. Octavia and Charlie exchanged glances, their amusement giving way to surprise and, in Charlie's case, horror. It was a far cry from the lighthearted cartoons they had been discussing.
"Wait...what?" Charlie again repeated it, as if her ears were deceiving her.
"Watched every single episode of it." Cain then smirked. "Flippy is my favorite one...Hehe, shit never gets old when he becomes psycho."
"Well..." Charlie couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle...which is a complete fake one. "I guess I should have expected something twisted from you, Cain. Happy Tree Friends definitely takes black humor to a whole new level."
"No shit, Charlie. It's fucking hilarious !" Cain's lips curled into a subtle smile, and there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "Gore is fucking amazing. Love that SHIT!"
Cain's revelation sent a shiver down Charlie's spine. She couldn't quite fathom how someone could find enjoyment in the "Happy Tree Friends" show. The mismatch between his stoic demeanor and his macabre taste in cartoons unnerved her. She stifled a nervous giggle, attempting to lighten the mood...or trying to. Octavia, on the other hand, couldn't help but find herself confused.
"What's a 'Happy Tree Friends,' Charlie?" Octavia asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity. She also began to type on her phone to search for it on the internet.
"OCTAVIA, I SWEAR TO THE DEVIL, DROP THAT PHONE NOW!" Charlie's voice carried a sense of urgency and concern, interrupting Octavia's attempt to search for "Happy Tree Friends" on her phone.
"Sweet spirits, Charlie!" Startled by Charlie's sudden outburst, the young owlet quickly complied, her phone slipping from her hand and landing on the car's floor.
"It's... it's not something you should look up, Octavia. Just trust me. Some things are best left unknown." Charlie took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure.
"You do realize it was my top cartoon, right?" Cain interjected with a mischievous grin.
Octavia and Charlie exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of how to react. Octavia's confusion deepened, while Charlie's unease grew.
"And what are the other favorite cartoons you like?"
"Metalocalypse." Cain said it casually as his gaze shifted momentarily to the horizon, where the looming presence of Lemegeton grew closer.
"Wonderful of you, Cain..." Charlie sighed, deciding to just close the topic. The car fell into a contemplative silence, each occupant lost in their own thoughts. The revelation of Cain's taste in cartoons had created an unexpected rift in their conversation, with Charlie grappling with her discomfort.
As the miles rolled by, the silence in the car became almost palpable. The road stretched ahead, lined with trees and shadows that seemed to mirror the conflicting emotions within. Eventually, they would arrive at their destination, the outskirts of Lemegeton City, the de facto capital of Ars Goetia in the Blasphemy Ring.
Sadly, the view of the city is blocked by the massive and impressive walls that encircled Lemegeton, imposing their presence on the landscape. The walls were made of dark stone, adorned with eerie engravings and intricate runic symbols that seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy.
Cain once again parked his car whenever he wanted, not caring if some Goetian peasant would ramble about it. Charlie, Octavia, and Cain stepped out of the car, taking a moment to absorb their surroundings. The air carried a mix of scents—fragrant flowers, freshly baked bread, and hints of something more arcane. The sounds of laughter and chatter filled the streets, creating an illusion of normalcy in this otherwise enigmatic place.
"You know the drill...do what you must and come back." Cain grumbled, resting his back against the car's door.
"Sure, just please don't cause any trouble while we are away." Charlie warned in a gentle manner.
"Who, me? Cause trouble? Never!" He replied sarcastically, his tone dripping with playful defiance.
"Riiight, of course you don't, Cain." Charlie didn't buy it but decided to let it go for now. Both Octavia and Charlie have come here for a reason, and dwelling on Cain's mischievous tendencies wouldn't get them any closer to their goal.
And hence, leaving Cain with Razzle alone, both young princesses went further into the village. Outside the walls is just a simple "village-like" section of the city. The village has a distinct charm, with cobblestone streets, quaint houses, and shops adorned with vibrant signs. The lesser Goetian Demons, or rather, in Goetian terms, commoners/peasants or... "plebs" went about their daily lives, always unaware of the dark secrets and schemes their Lords of Goetia performed within the city walls.
And just as it so happens on their walk towards the main gate, Charlie noticed a bakery shop with a display where rows of delectable pastries awaited. The aroma was wonderful, making Charlie check it out.
"Smells good." Charlie chipped in, enjoying the scent.
"Oh, yeah. They're baking "Lemegetonian sweetrolls" over there, if you want some.“ Octavia agreed, busy taking pictures of the village. It's been ages since she was last here.
"Well, you're tempting me now, Via." Charlie's mouth watered at this sight. "I have to try one,"
The Goetian Baker, noticing Charlie's interest, smiled warmly. "Ah, the Lemegetonian sweet rolls are a local favorite here in Goetia. Which filling would you like, your majesty?"
Charlie pondered for a moment, her gaze fixated on the assortment of flavors, landing at the sweet raspberry from Gluttony Ring.
"I'll go with the raspberry, please."
The Goetian baker swiftly packaged the sweetroll, handing it to Charlie with a friendly smile. "Enjoy it!"
Taking a bite, Charlie was immediately greeted by a burst of sweetness and the soft, fluffy texture of the pastry. The raspberry filling was tangy and perfectly balanced the sweetness of the glaze. She couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh. Meanwhile, Octavia continued to capture the village's charm through her camera lens and posting it on Sinstagram.
"Octavia, do you want to try a sweetroll too?" Charlie offered, gesturing to the bakery's tempting display.
"Sure, why not." Octavia looked up from her camera, her eyes lighting up. The young owlet approached the bakery counter. "Hey, do you happen to have a 'mouse' flavor sweetroll?"
"A 'mouse' flavor, you say?" The Goetian baker raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the unusual request. "I'm afraid we don't have that particular flavor, but we do have a wide range of other delicious options like chocolate, caramel, and even blueberry. If you specifically want it, we do have a sandwich with mouse meat."
"In that case, one sandwich, please."
The baker's expression turned even more bewildered at Octavia's request for a mouse-flavored sandwich. Nonetheless, they nodded and quickly prepared a sandwich, using a unique blend of ingredients and seasonings to create a flavor that resembled mouse meat...and some chopped mouse parts.
"Here you go," the baker said, offering the sandwich to Octavia. "63 souls, please."
Octavia took the sandwich and gave the souls in exchange before leaving the bakery.
"Mouse-flavored, huh? Well, I hope it lives up to your expectations." Charlie bemused, enjoying the sweet roll on their way.
"You never know until you try, right?" Octavia shrugged. She cautiously took a bite and was surprised to find that the taste indeed resembled a savory meat. The flavors were rich and complex, with a hint of earthiness that added an intriguing twist. While it didn't taste like actual mice, the baker's creativity certainly crafted an interesting and delicious sandwich.
"Interesting," Octavia expressed, her voice laced with amusement. "Definitely not what I expected, but it's surprisingly delicious."
"Remind me not to try it anytime soon." Charlie chuckled, watching Octavia's reaction with a smile.
With their treats in hand, Charlie and Octavia continued strolling through the village, savoring the delightful sweetness of the sweetroll and mouse-flavored sandwich.
Eventually, Charlie and Octavia would finish off the little lunch break and approach the main gates of Lemegeton City. They were greeted by towering walls.
The Ars Goetian Regiment formed a wall formation around the gate, preventing anyone from proceeding any further. The guards wore ornate avian armor adorned with sigils and carried weapons that crackled with arcane energy, ranging from swords, maces, and even what seems to be a musket. Their stern beak expressions and unwavering stance made it clear that they were not to be taken lightly.
One of the guards did pay attention to a visitor, a Hellhound, surprisingly, who is well-off by the looks of his suit.
"For the eighth fucking time, already! I'm a representative on behalf of the Stygian Council, seeking an audience with Ars Goetian Elecrotate!"
"And?" The Goetian Guard sounded bored.
"What do you mean, 'And?!'" Hellhound complained. "I told you my reasons many times; please let me in already!"
"We cannot do that..."
"WHY?!"
"Ars Goetian business, classified."
"For Vicar Amelia's sake! What's your problem with me?!"
"Don't raise your voice at me, you mutt."
"Mutt, MUTT!?" Hellhound was baffled by the casual use of racial slurs against children of Lycaon. "How fucking dare you?! I will report this behavior to the Stygian Council, you Goetian-"
"Excuse me, but is there a problem here?" Charlie interjected, hoping to diffuse the escalating tension. Octavia remained silent, preferring to just remain silent, as Charlie is better at calming demons down.
The guard turned their attention towards Charlie and Octavia, momentarily forgetting about the Hellhound visitor. "There is no problem, Your Majesty. This visitor is simply not cleared for entry at this time. It is a matter of security and confidentiality."
"I understand the need for security, but it is important to treat all individuals with respect and refrain from using derogatory language," Charlie stated firmly, her voice carrying authority.
"You heard our majesty." Hellhound also took Charlie's side.
The guard looked somewhat sheepish and inclined their head in acknowledgment.
"I apologize for my choice of words, your Majesty. However, as per the treaty between Lucifer and Ars Goetia, we have the full right not to take your words as a command. Hence, this stray dog still cannot be granted entry."
"Then perhaps you will listen to me." Octavia stepped forward, her tone calm but assertive. "Princess Vivian Octavia of House Paimon. Her Majesty and I come on behalf of the Goetian Electorate to attend the upcoming trial of Prince Stolas and Stella Goetia."
The guard nodded, their gaze shifting between Charlie, Octavia, and the Hellhound visitor. After a moment, the guard sighed, their rigid stance softening slightly.
"I cannot make the decision on my own, but I will convey your message to the Duke Agares of Ars Bael. Please wait here."
Charlie nodded in gratitude, appreciating the guard's willingness to listen. The same guard would march inside the gates while another Goetian guard replaced him, with a baton in his hand, slapping it against his armored gloves as he stared at Hellhound with a cautious and distrustful glance.
"So..." Charlie broke the silence, taking her attention to the Hellhound. "What brings you here, mister....um?"
"Barrator Maverick of the Stygian Council, representative on the committee on Hellhound rights of Inferno, your majesty." The hellhound bowed his head.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Barrator Maverick." Charlie repeated, acknowledging his introduction and extending her hand for him.
"Of course, your majesty." Barrator Maverick graciously shook her hand in delight, offering it to Octavia.
Much to Charlie's surprise, Octavia instead crossed her arms and gave the Barrator the most distrustful and hateful glance she could ever produce. Noticing Octavia's reaction, Charlie glanced between Octavia and Barrator Maverick, perplexed by the sudden change in atmosphere.
"Have I met you before, Princess Octavia?" Barrator Maverick was confused with dagger glares as well.
"No, we don't, but I know your type, Barrator." Octavia's voice was cold and distant, and her eyes narrowed. "I find it hard to believe that a representative of the Stygian Council, an organization that has actively suppressed and oppressed the rights of Hellhounds in Inferno, is advocating for Hellhound rights."
"I assure you, I am committed to advocating for change and rectifying the injustices inflicted upon Hellhounds, Princess Octavia." Barrator Maverick's expression faltered, his usual confidence wavering under Octavia's piercing gaze.
"Then how come you supported the bill to extend the Hellhound Adoption Foundation all the way down to the Fourth Era?!" Octavia's tone remained firm.
"Wait, what?!" Charlie was baffled. It's not a secret that the Hellhound Adoption Foundation is just another fancy word for "child labor" for Inferno and punishes those who go against the will of the Seven Deadly Sins.
Barrator Maverick hesitated for a moment, seemingly taken aback by Octavia's knowledge of the bill. He composed himself and responded, his voice carrying a hint of sincerity.
"Let me assure you that the Hellhound Adoption Foundation is a future for all Hellpups in Inferno, Princess Octavia. Ever since what happened in the Town of Furiosa, Wrath Ring, we cannot have some unruly Hellhounds wrecking our homes and our cities. With the Hellhound Adoption Foundation, we can teach and take care of those who lost their parents in the rebellion."
And that last boiling pot for Octavia, obviously she saw through him with the bullshit he spat for excuses to continue operating the adoption centers.
"You spineless shithead!" Octavia's voice rang out with fury and disbelief. She took a step forward, her eyes blazing with anger, before doing something that nobody expected. Octavia kicked Barrator Maverick right into his groin, causing the Hellhound to scream in pain, fall on his knees, and "puppy-whining".
"Oooh, that's got to hurt!" One of the guards cringed. Despite that, he is enjoying seeing a mongrel mutt get hurt by a fellow Goetian noble.
"You're fortunate that my friend isn't here. She grew up in one of those adoption centers, where the staff treated her like a slave! She'll tear you apart for everything you believe in!" Octavia's yell reverberated through the air, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.
Barrator Maverick clutched his injured groin, his face contorting with pain. Charlie, though taken aback by Octavia's actions, understood her emotions and the loyalty to a friend that drove her to such an extreme reaction. He approached Octavia cautiously, placing a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down.
"Octavia, I understand your anger, but violence won't solve anything." Charlie spoke softly.
"...it never does. But I cannot leave it like this with fucks like this who are responsible for what Loona had to suffer..." Octavia grumbled, shaking her head as she stared at that corrupt Barrator in disgust. She then glanced up at one of the guards. Despite their faces being covered, it's clear they enjoyed seeing the torment of "Lycaon's child" with their own eyes.
"Guards, do Prince Stolas Goetia's daughter a favor and show him why nobody fucks with Ars Goetia."
"You heard her, cocks! Let's show that Mongrel Mutt of Lycaon why Ars Goetia are true masters!" One of the guards excitedly announced.
"Wait, you can't do that! I'm-" Hellhound tried to defend himself with an authority ticket. But there was not a single shred of hesitation as the guards pushed the Hellhound down and began to beat the shit out of that Barrator with the batons. Some of them even kicked him and used racial slurs against Hellhounds, often about being a dog, mongrel, mutt, furry and so on.
Charlie and Octavia watched in dismay, their expressions reflecting a mixture of shock and disgust. They couldn't condone such violence and derogatory language, even if they understood the anger and frustration that the Hellhound fueled it, ...but Octavia had to do it...for Loona.
"Enough!" Someone's voice boomed, cutting through the air like thunder. The guards immediately stopped their actions and stood at attention, their expressions sobering. The "racial hatred" subsided as the guards ceased their assault.
In the midst of the commotion, Duke Agares Goetia, one of the 72 Pillars, arrived to greet the two princesses. Duke Agares surveyed the situation with a stern gaze, taking in the battered form of Barrator Maverick and the Goetian guards.
"Explain yourselves, Goetian Watch." Duke Agares demanded, his voice laced with authority.
"Fulfilling Ars Goetian supremacy, my Duke!" One of the guards saluted.
"Oh, really?!" Agares's tone completely changed as soon as he heard that. "In that case, carry on then."
"Wait! You cannot do that. That's discrimination against the Hellhounds. We -"
"Shut it, furry!" And once more, the Guards showed no mercy to the Hellhound, going round two on that Barrator. Now Charlie understands why the carvings in the original Stolas Goetia's tomb had some bigotry against Hellhounds.
Without even batting an eye, Agares turned his attention to Charlie and Octavia, his expression softening slightly in delight.
"Princess Vivian Octavia of House Paimon and Your Majesty, Charlotte Morningstar. When Astaroth informed us that you were coming, we were surprised by your decision. But the entire Lemegeton is delighted to see you in the city of our Benevolent Ars Bael...oh poor Bael."
Duke Agares sniffed at the end, wiping his tear in honor of their deceased Ars Bael. Duke Agares Goetia's sudden shift in demeanor and his words caught Charlie and Octavia off guard. They exchanged confused glances, unsure of how to respond to his seemingly contradictory behavior.
"So...can we enter?" Charlie tried to be straight forward.
"Of course, allow me to guide you right into the Castle of Ars Bael if you please, your majesty."
Without anything else to say, Charlie and Octavia decided to proceed and follow the Duke to the Castle of Ars Bael. The rest of the guards (who were busy beating that Hellhound) just moved from Agares’ way. And here, after passing the main gates, Charlie's eyes set on the Capital of Ars Goetia...
If there was a cultural center of Hell.
That would be Lemegeton.
"Ah, Lemegeton. There are no words to describe Bael's contributions to making this city ours. What other place is as beautiful, as stable, and as perfect!?" Agares expressed himself on their walk, making sure that at least her majesty will appreciate what Ars Goetia can do...
Charlie barely made a step as Lemegeton's grandeur unfolded before her eyes. As it's known, Lemegeton, or sometimes "Ars Lemegeton" is the capital of Ars Goetia and Ars Bael's personnel city that he owned and ruled over. The city really captures the essence of culture while embracing the fiery realms of Hell, showcasing a captivating blend of darkness and beauty.
Towering spires adorned with menacing gargoyles pierce the fiery sky, casting eerie shadows upon the cobblestone streets below. The architecture, reminiscent of Renaissance splendor, boasts intricate details and ornate embellishments, combining elements of Gothic and Baroque styles. Marble facades are etched with intricate scenes depicting the eternal struggle between angels and demons, and the city's central square houses a colossal statue of Ars Belial, proudly overseeing the cultural affairs of Hell.
Octavia was equally impressed by the grandeur of Lemegeton, trying to take pictures for the memory of her time in Ars Lemegeton. Really, it's been a long time since Stolas and she have been here...trully amazing.
The city's streets echo with the sounds of ceaseless activity. Everywhere you turn, you encounter street performers and artists, their macabre creations bringing beauty to the darkness. Painters, sculptors, and poets find inspiration in the depths of despair, crafting works that reflect Ars Goetia's influence.
"And let me show the first wonder of our city!" Agares noted his tone, gesturing at the bridge near them. "The Bridge of Valefar, constructed and donated by our wonderful Duke Valefar for our Ars. This bridge spans across the Grand Canal of the Phlegethon River, the main waterway of the city, connecting the districts of San Aphenia and San Polas. It's our symbol of Goetian pride and unity!"
"It's just a bridge, Uncle Agares." Octavia has shown little confusion. Sure, it's impressive, but it's not like it's the biggest thing in Lemegeton for Uncle to focus on.
"I see your time in the Pride Ring made you forget the beauty of Ars Goetia, young Octavia." Agares stated this with a dismissive tone. "Let us continue, your majesty."
Octavia didn't dignify her response but still followed her uncle and Charlie on their way.
On their way, galleries and museums line the boulevards, exhibiting masterpieces that embody the dichotomy of Hell's culture. Paintings of tortured imps or Hellhounds, writhing in agony, capture the anguish and suffering that permeate the underworld. Sculptures depict twisted figures frozen in eternal torment, their contorted forms evoking a sense of both repulsion and awe. Despite this, there is an undeniable allure to these works, as they convey the profound depths of demonic emotion.
Agares once more will stop near a bustling marketplace where vendors sell a variety of goods, from enchanted trinkets and spell books to fresh produce and colorful fabrics. The air was filled with the sounds of haggling, laughter, and the occasional street performer showcasing their magical talents.
There is also the aroma of decadent cuisine not far away. Hellish delicacies tempt the palate, blending flavors both exquisite and infernal. Sinful spices ignite the taste buds, while rare wines from the depths of Hell intoxicate the senses. Elegant restaurants and taverns welcome patrons, their lavish interiors offering respite from the eternal inferno.
"Ahh, yes! No other city can match the size of Lemegeton's markets, your majesty. Be it spices or silk from Envy Ring and afar, there is...there is...oh." Agares's expression turned serious as he observed the scene unfolding before them.
"What's wrong?" Charlie asked as she and Octavia followed his gaze, their eyes narrowing in concern as they saw the scene.
The four Goetian Guards approached the vendor stall with their swords drawn, causing the surrounding crowd to disperse in fear. The vendor, a frail bird demon with trembling hands, looked visibly terrified.
"You were told to stay home!" One of the guards shouted at the vendor, his voice laced with aggression.
The Goetian vendor, trembling with fear, stammered in response. "B-b-but the rent is paid. I have every right to sell my goods here!"
"Elector-Morax disagrees!" And just as before, the Goetian Guards began to wreak havoc on the stall, breaking and shattering the goods that the poor vendor sold.
"No, no, NO! STOP!" Vendor begged, but it didn't stop them from wrecking his stall.
"Let us continue our tour...elsewhere." Agares's chuckle held a touch of unease as he quickly guided Charlie and Octavia away from the scene of destruction. The three of them swiftly moved through the bustling marketplace, leaving the guards and the shattered stall behind.
Their tour continued through what seems to be a mix of commercial and academic sectors, with its intellectual prowess shining through its prestigious academies and libraries.
Goetian scholars gather in opulent halls, engaged in heated debates and intellectual pursuits. Ancient tomes, line the shelves, housing forbidden knowledge and dark secrets. The city's intellectual elite eagerly engages in discussions on theology, philosophy, and the arcane arts, pushing the boundaries of demon understanding even in the infernal realms.
"Hm, I wonder how you managed to get the city to be that successful?" Charlie broke the silence, curious.
"Ars Goetian's prowess and intelligence, your highness." Agares nodded, a sense of pride evident in his voice. "Indeed, the success of Lemegeton can be attributed to the visionary leadership of Ars Bael. Over the centuries, we have cultivated a society that values knowledge, innovation, and intellectual growth."
"So, we say..." Octavia didn't buy that bullshit. "Hey, Uncle. Tell our majesty, how come Lemegeton gets 95% of funding while Pandemonium gets around 5%?"
"Wha-" Charlie wanted further elaboration.
"Oh, you funny one, miss Octavia." Duke Agares awkwardly interjected. His expression faltered for a moment, his unease becoming more apparent. "Lemegeton has always been a center of culture, commerce, and intellectual pursuit. The city's prominence and contributions to the realm are undeniable, which is why it receives a larger share of funding."
"And the Capital City is not? It sounds like our kingdom's reserves are getting-"
"ANYWAY! And here we are, in the Great Palace of Ars Bael. Look and behold!"
Agares's attempt to divert the conversation was met with a raised eyebrow from Octavia, but she decided to let it go for now.
But now the Great Palace of Ars Bael is visible, with them standing just outside the entrance's courtyard. The palace stood tall and imposing, its architecture reflecting the power and authority of its ruler. The palace's facade was adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from Hell's history and mythology. The main entrance was guarded by formidable Goetian Sentinels, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. The air around the palace carried an air of reverence and anticipation, as if the very walls held the weight of countless secrets and ambitions.
"This is the heart of Lemegeton, the seat of power, and the residence of Ars Bael." Agares gestured towards the palace with a sense of pride. "Within these walls, our Goetian electorate makes decisions that shape the destiny of Ars Goetia."
"Impressive." Charlie remarked, her voice filled with respect for the Goetian achievements.
"Indeed, your majesty. Normally I would suggest a full tour inside the castle, but with the way things are right now..."
"With Bael's death, Duke?" Charlie presumed.
"Astaroth mentioned you'd been on the funeral pyre, so yes. It's just that with the succession procedure for new Ars, the electorate tries to unify the disgruntled nobles under one banner of unity. There has been some...resistance...some even violent."
"What kind of resistance?"
"With Ars Bael being in charge before, it was easy to make Ars Goetia nobles fall in line. Now that the electorate is in charge for the time being, many Goetias want something, or they will not listen to the council. It's the Old Art of Goetia, scheming when opportunity arises."
"It's nothing new for us, Charlie." Octavia shook her head, annoyed.
Agares nodded in agreement with Octavia. "Indeed, but regardless of what happens inside our walls, I wish you great success and hope you enjoy Lemegeton as much as she enjoys having you here, your majesty!"
The Duke of Ars Goetia bowed his head before he departed from their presence, leaving the young princesses alone. Charlie and Octavia stood in front of the grand palace, their gazes fixed on the imposing structure before them, before the young owlet would ask her.
"So... what do you think of the city?" Octavia wondered if Charlie caught the bullshit from Agares.
"It has a certain charm." Charlie shrugged.
"Sure, unless you will look deeper. Uncle Agares forgot to mention to you how Lemegeton is a fucking Elitist corrupted rich city, with Cloacas like him twisting the laws to squeeze out more power when needed."
"Yeah, I can see that..." Charlie slowly nodded at Octavia's blunt assessment, recognizing the underlying frustration and cynicism in her words. "More and more, I now understand Ars Goetian politics. It makes me wonder if the trial against your parents is just a ruse."
"I won't be surprised if it's true." Octavia sighed. "There is something I learned from my aunt: in every conflict, there are always some opportunists who profit. They don't care if they make me an orphan."
"You're quick to point your fingers at others, my cousin!"
"Fuck, not him." Octavia cursed, rubbing her face with frustration.
Charlie turned to face the newcomer, a young Goetian demon with a mischievous grin. Like the Goetian nobility, the young handsome Demon with red stilted eyes wears a fancy white gothic-style trench coat with a green undershirt and yellow moon symbols on it. A single amulet with various jewelry signaled his status as Goetia.
"Well, well. You're full of surprises, Octavia. I didn't expect you to be here. Usually, you tend to run away from your problems."
"And why are you here?" Octavia clenched her fists, her frustration evident.
"Well, since I'm the heir apparent, of course, I will assist my favorite grandfather in his endeavors." The young demon sneered even more at Octavia's frustration. "Oh, come on, cousin. Can't you take a little joke?"
"My parents are about to be sentenced to death, and you're laughing at it."
"It's not my fault that my step-uncle and aunt-in-law are so incompetent with their little schemes. But nothing is surprising; the entire House of Andras-Phenexia has been a thorn in Grandfather's side. So, we have to...improvise."
"I'm a little bit disadvantaged over here, but who are you?" Charlie stepped forward, clearing her throat to get his attention.
"Oh my, Octavia." The young demon raised an eyebrow with a simple grin, surprised that Charlie didn't know him. "Are you trying to scheme our benevolent majesty to your side? You know it's not nice to hide your secrets from your cousin."
"Prick..." Octavia mumbled to herself, but she somewhat honored his wish...just for the sake of him shutting up. "Your majesty, this is Gaap Goetia, heir apparent to House Paimon."
"A sincere pleasure to finally meet you, your majesty. And I must say, it was Belial's blessing upon me to see the beauty herself, bestowed for my own eyes."
Charlie's eyes widened in surprise as Gaap Goetia then knelt before her, taking her hand and kissing her finger in a gesture of obedience and admiration. Octavia only watched it with distrust, seeing through Gaap's schemes.
"I appreciate the sentiment, Gaap, but there is no need for such formalities." Charlie slightly stammered, she quickly withdrew her hand, a mixture of confusion and discomfort on her face. "I am not a queen or a ruler. Just a concerned friend trying to help Octavia in her time of need."
Gaap rose from his kneeling position with a playful smirk on his face. "Ah, but in Ars Goetia, respect and deference are expected for those of higher status, especially when one possesses such grace and beauty as yourself, your majesty."
"...I'm already taken, Gaap." Charlie simply stated the obvious, seeing that he is trying to court her.
"Not surprised by the slightest. I envy the one who managed to win your heart. He must be one helluva lucky demon."
"Enough with the theatrics, Gaap." Octavia interjected, protecting Charlie from Gaap's clearly unimpressed attempts at flattery. "Why are you bothering us?"
Gaap's playful smirk faded, his expression turning serious for a moment. "I see you haven't changed, my half-cousin. Still bitchy as ever."
"Bitchy? No, just fed up with arrogant and entitled snobs like you, Gaap" Octavia's eyes flashed with anger. Gaap's words hit a bit of a nerve.
Gaap just smugly looked at Octavia before directing his attention at Charlie. "So, what brings you to Lemegeton, your majesty? I'm sure you're busy with something else than....wasting your time with the walking stereotype of depression and doomerism."
Charlie's patience wore thin, her frustration mounting from Gaap's mockery of Octavia. She took a step forward, her voice firm and resolute. "I am here to help Octavia, someone who actually deserves my time and attention."
Gaap chuckled, his arrogance undeterred.
"Oh, how noble of you, your majesty, to stand up for your vassal like that. Did our lovely Octavia ever tell you she is a precautionary heir because of me?" Gaap smirked, clearly enjoying the effect his words were having on the young chick.
"Octavia?" Charlie asked, just to be sure if Gaap was lying or not.
"Yes, Charlie. It's true." Octavia's voice was filled with bitterness as she confirmed Gaap's words. "My position as the precautionary heir is indeed because of him."
"Ah, it seems she hasn't shared that little detail with you, has she? You see, your majesty, it was my dear father, Duke Zepar, who was the first son of Paimon. And thanks to that, I have been blessed to be the heir apparent to the house me and Octavia are in. And as heir apparent, it's me who fulfills Paimon's burden by attending the trial on his behalf."
"Ah, so my grandfather is not even coming to see his son's death verdict...wonderful." Octavia wasn't surprised...fucking grandpa Paimon.
"The bitter fighting between your parents is no concern to our grandfather, Octavia. Sooner or later, he shall ascend as a new Ars of Goetia, with me as the direct heir. At this point, both Uncle Stolas and Aunt Stella are just liabilities, a pile of trash to get rid of."
That really got the anger boiling in Octavia's psyche. She nearly punched Gaap in his beak, but the smug bird dodged it with ease.
"THAT'S MY PARENTS, YOU FUCK!
"Oh, Octavia, you're always so hot-headed. But like your own mother, you should learn to control your temper. It won't do you any good in the trials ahead." Gaap chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos he had stirred.
"FUCK YOU!" Octavia screamed, wanting to hit him again, but Charlie quickly grabbed her arm to prevent unnecessary fighting.
"Octavia, please calm down. He is ruffling your feathers, and you're only doing his smugness a favor."
Charlie's words resonated with Octavia, and she took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. Gaap's presence and taunting had gotten under her skin, but she knew giving in to her anger wouldn't solve anything. She nodded at Charlie, appreciating her support.
"Listen to our majesty, ruffy one." Gaap again in his repertoire.
"And you, Gaap, leave us alone before I do something I will regret." Charlie warned, preventing Gaap from easily winning this fight.
"You should heed our majesty's warning, Gaap." Octavia gave a little sass back...she will at least have the final laugh.
Gaap's eyes flickered with a mix of annoyance and amusement.
"Fine, have it your way. But remember, the trial is approaching, and you'll have no choice but to witness the consequences of your parent's actions."
With those parting words, Gaap turned and walked away, his feathers rustling with an air of arrogance. Octavia watched him leave, her fists still clenched, but she knew engaging further would only play into his game.
"Fucking Cloaca! Telling me my parents are piles of trash...more and more I feel like following my mother's steps and murdering his sorry cloaca in his sleep!"
"Via..." Charlie's expression softened; empathy was in her tone. At this point, it would seem to be the end of the line for Octavia. The time has come, and there is no turning back. Octavia has to face and witness the verdict on her parents...
"I know...Dad would not like it if I stood so low...but I can't help it." Octavia took a deep breath, her anger gradually subsiding. "I'm fine. Just... frustrated. But I won't let him get to me. Thank you for stepping in, Charlie."
Charlie nodded back and looked to where Gaap went. He went inside Ars Bael's castle and seems to be going into the House of Commons for the trial. At this point, Charlie sees that Paimon and Gaap are scheming to get rid of Octavia's parents. Still, the question is, why...and where were Andrealphus and Marquis Andras part of that plot? It looks like Charlie will have to get herself into Ars Goetian schemes after all.
"Octavia..." Charlie began, taking a few steps forward towards the young owlet. "Whatever happens today, know that you are not alone. I will stand by your side, no matter the outcome. I promise you, I will do everything I can to save your parents. Maybe they will listen to me in the end."
Octavia looked at Charlie, a glimmer of hope reflecting in her eyes. She could sense the sincerity and determination in her friend's words.
"As much as I want to believe, I don't see anything that can help save my parents at this point. But don't get wrong, you done so much to me than anyone else. It's me for whom I should thank you for accompanying me...and I won't blame you if you can't save them."
"Via..." Charlie cooed, placing a hand on Octavia's shoulder. "I understand that it may seem bleak right now, but we can't lose hope. Sometimes, even in the darkest moments, we need to hold on to the glimmer of hope."
"I sometimes don't understand how optimistic you can be, Charlie." Octavia's eyes welled up with tears, a mix of sadness and gratitude.
"You think I don't experience dread?" Charlie weakly said. "Because I do. I experience fear and doubt just like anyone else, Via. Every time I remind myself of my friends and loved ones who rely on me to get themselves saved from the annual exterminations. If I fail them...I don't even want to think about it."
Octavia listened intently, her tears momentarily forgotten as she saw the vulnerability in Charlie's eyes. She realized that her friend carried her own burdens and fears, just like everyone else. In that moment, their shared struggles brought them closer together.
"Thank you, Charlie, for everything." The young owlet reached out and gently squeezed Charlie's hand, offering a reassuring smile.
"Always, Via." Charlie's expression softened, gratitude and relief washing over her. "So...you're ready?"
"Well, yeah...but I..." Octavia hesitated, as she didn't want to sound rude. "I want to have a little alone time for a bit...it’s just my comfort place....you know."
"I understand, Via." Charlie nodded understandingly, giving Octavia's hand a gentle squeeze. "Of course, take all the time you need. I'll be in the House of Commons whenever you're ready."
Octavia smiled gratefully, thanking Charlie in silence. The Princess of Hell would walk away towards the Castle of Ars Bael while the young owlet settled on the bench and took out her phone with earbuds.
Plugging in the earbuds, she scrolled through her playlist. Music had always been a source of comfort for her, a way to escape and find solace in melodies and lyrics.
Only Love Can Break Your Heart’ by Neil Young
Finding the perfect song, Octavia hit play and let the music fill her ears. The familiar tunes washed over her, transporting her to a world where she could momentarily forget her worries and immerse herself in the rhythm and emotions of the music.
As she listened, her thoughts drifted, and she allowed herself to feel the weight of her emotions. She acknowledged her anger, her frustration, and her sadness. The music acted as a conduit for her feelings, allowing her to process them and find a sense of release. It was in these solitary moments that she could find a sense of clarity and recharge her spirit, preparing herself for what was about to come...
And still, she can't face the reality of losing her parents.
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/Lemegeton/The Castle of Ars Bael.
Terrific.
A single word can describe what the inside of Ars Bael's castle was like for visitors.
Since the trial hadn't started yet, Charlie spent some time checking out the public sections of the castle on the first floor. The Sin "herself" slowly crept behind Charlie, following her master and being drawn to this castle, full of dark arts and the presence of her father , unhallowed by the name.
Even after seeing Lemegeton in its full glory, Charlie wasn't surprised that the King of Kings' castle was opulent. The architecture was beautiful, with some creepiness in it. It had everything: high vaulted ceilings, intricately carved pillars, and magnificent chandeliers that bathed the halls in a soft, warm glow. The floors were polished to a shine, reflecting the light and adding to the sense of grandeur. The walls were adorned with beautiful tapestries depicting some kind of runic power, scenes of ancient battles against Hellhounds, the rich history of the Ars Goetia, and specific scenes.
Charlie stopped at it and examined it carefully. Even though Octavia is not present with the translation, the Princess of Hell at least can tell it's the depiction of the scene. The depiction showed numerous Goetias bowing before a human figure adorned with a crown. The human king, depicted with an air of authority, pointed his finger in a commanding gesture, as if directing the Goetias to build a temple. And just below that scene, the simple name is written in Ars Goetian runic style.
Solomon
"Hm...who is Solomon?" Charlie asked Sin as she felt her presence near her.
"Ars Bael's longest and oldest grudge, Anti-One." The Sin, as always stated with sheer creepiness in her voice. "They say obsession leads to their demise... I tend to agree. But as humans say, Solomon was the great King of Israel, known for his wisdom. He possessed immense power and control over the Goetias, harnessing their abilities for his own purposes. He commanded them, used them to build his temple, and sought to control their very essence. In a way, he is the first human ever to be a "magician."
"It seems the world of Goetia holds many secrets and complexities that I have yet to fully uncover." Charlie hummed as she listened to Sin's words. The intricate web of history, grudges, and power struggles within the realm of Goetia was becoming more apparent to her. She couldn't help but wonder how all these elements would play a role in the upcoming trials and the fate of Octavia's parents.
"As expected, Anti-One." Sin chuckled again, her presence fading away as she moved into the shadows. " Enjoy your exploration of Ars Goetia, for it holds both beauty and darkness within its schemes."
With those cryptic words, Sin disappeared into the black fog, leaving Charlie to ponder the mysteries that lay ahead. She once more glanced at Solomon's depiction in the mural, and her gaze lingered on the depiction of Solomon in the mural. The complexity of the world of Goetia and the ancient grudges it held seemed intertwined with the very fabric of Ars Bael's castle.
But as of right now, since there is nothing to see on the walls that Charlie can understand, she went out on her way towards "The House of Commons". Navigating through the castle's corridors, Charlie made her way to the designated area only to meet her.
Charlie's heart skipped a beat as she spotted Stella Goetia, Octavia's mother, sitting on one of the waiting benches...and drowning her sorrows in wine. It was a stark contrast to the strength and uptightness Charlie had seen in Stella back in Valley of Ars Belial.
The Princess of Hell approached Stella cautiously, and the swan demon didn't even make a note of her.
"Ahem..." Charlie cleared her throat nicely.
Stella Goetia raised her head, her eyes filled with a mix of dread and surprise as she noticed her majesty's presence.
"Ah, your majesty...once more you surprise me with your presence...and I hope you don't mind me if I don't stand up...I have no strength nor the will..."
"It's understandable...with that bottle of yours." Charlie noted.
"It's Lemegetonia Chardonnay, circa the First Era. My father had it in his cellar for a long time. Managed to steal it while he wasn't looking...as a big "fuck you" for making me marry that fuck!"
"And you're not worried that he will punish you?"
"I'm dead anyway, your majesty, so I don't fucking care anymore." Stella bitterly stated, taking another shot from the bottle.
Charlie released a breath, even with what Stolas said about Stella. Seeing Octavia's mother like this is just so pathetic and pitying. It was clear that she had lost all hope and had become consumed by her own pain in order to cope with the knowledge that she would be executed.
"There is something I want to hear from you." Charlie firmly expressed, taking a seat near Stella as it would be a long conversation. "This whole feud you have with Stolas. Was it because he cheated on you or what?"
Stella took a while to answer, busying herself with taking another shot of wine down her throat. Stella sighed heavily and looked into Charlie's eyes.
"I never fucking cared whenever he fucked someone in our bedroom, your majesty. I hated him the moment I laid my eyes on that spineless twink."
"So, what's the problem then?" Charlie didn't understand Stella's logic.
"The problem becomes when he is fucking some plebs in our bedroom and for my dad to hear this news, your majesty." Stella frustratingly rubbed her beak, remembering every single time that it happened. "He always seemed eager to allow the peasants inside our private quarters, even if they worked for us. I swear to spirits, he must have a fetish or something. One time, Stolas tried to defend the imp pest he fucked by saying that the imp was his childhood friend or something. Can you believe it, your majesty? A Goetian prince, friends with an imp? "
"Maybe he is free-spirited or something." Charlie presumed. Although she can see Stella is a bit elitist and snobbish, the princess still prefers to listen to her entirely.
"A walking stick is what he is, your majesty. You have no idea of the constant damage control I have to do every time Stolas interacts with peasants. Every fucking time, my own dad berated me for not controlling Stolas properly while my brother laughed his icy ass off!"
"They are something, alright." Charlie had to agree with Stella a bit here. Andras and Andreaphalus already showed their colors back in the Valley of Ars Belial for Charlie to see how they're...snobbish as well. "Okay, so you and Stolas hated each other. How come you never divorced him first?"
"Because my dear old papa would not allow it, your majesty." Stella said it firmly and bitterly, scratching the surface of the bottle with her nails. "I was married to Stolas to honor the alliance between House Andras-Phenexia and Paimon. I delivered the egg, and Via now shares the bloodline of the two houses. That should have been the end of it, but my papa wanted more than just Octavia .... he wanted to incorporate the entire Paimon's house into his; hence, I had to continue my marriage with Stolas no matter what."
“If it wasn’t for Andras you wouldn’t be-”
“Married to Stolas? No, your majesty.”
"I was going to say to kill Stolas..."
“Oh no, I’d still want to kill him. He, Paimon, Vassago and Gaap are enemies of my house at the end of the day. In fact, if this situation were reversed. He’d be dead, and I’d be laughing, having used that same Imp to do it.”
"I see.." Charlie replied, taking in Stella's words. It became clear that her continued marriage to Stolas was not solely based on personal choice but rather driven by political considerations and both Stella's and Stolas's fathers' own desires. But the question still remains for Charlie. "So how did an assassination attempt come to your mind?"
"No offense, your majesty. But I saw you near Stolas on the funeral pyre. How can I be sure you're just here to spy on his behalf?"
"I'm not on anyone's side, Lady Stella. Only on Octavia's. Despite your fighting with your husband, your own daughter is deeply worried for the two of you. I promised Octavia that I would help her rescue you and Stolas from the execution verdict."
"And why should you care for low-life vassals like us?" Stella again dismissed the statement, not believing that the Heir of Inferno cared that much for Octavia's well-being.
"Because I care for Octavia, simple as that. I disapprove of what you and Stolas did, but I'm not here to blame you two for everything you've done. I'm aiming to fix this problem and settle this dispute once and for all." Charlie said it sincerely.
Stella remained silent for a moment, contemplating Charlie's answer. She took another sip of wine, collecting her thoughts before responding.
"It was Andrealphus' idea, your majesty." Stella again sipped wine, and a nervous tick began to form on her left foot. "He proposed that we hire a demon outside of Goetia, an assassin, to eliminate Stolas. He gave me the contact information for an imp called Striker and assured me that he could arrange it without any trace leading back to us."
"What was Andrephalus's goal by hiring that "Striker" guy?"
"Inheritance scam...should Stolas die, Octavia would inherit his position as a new princess and the 36th Spirit of Lemegeton, your majesty. I, on the other hand, would have been compensated a lot. At first, I thought to just kill off Stolas, but then Andre suggested me to stall for now in order to gain leverage against Paimon..."
"And it turns out he was just using you for his own agenda." Charlie sighed, seeing that it sounded too good to be true.
"He did..." Stella scowled, feeling her anger boiling. Even now, it feels hurtful because of Andre's betrayal. "Fucking icy peacock...promised me everything and then ditched me when it was time, putting all the clues on me."
"And now Octavia suffers because of that." Charlie's expression turned serious as she realized the extent of Andreaphalus's manipulation and betrayal. The Princess of Hell once again stood on her feet, crossing her arms. "I see the full picture now. From what you, Octavia, and Stolas told me, this goes beyond a mere feud between you and Stolas. It's a power struggle between Paimon and Andras, all vying for control and dominance now that the position for Ars is open."
"Always been. Every scheme of Ars Goetia always makes them step closer to the title of Ars." Stella quoted her father.
"Which is why I must stop it for Octavia's sake, for your sake, and for the sake of Stolas. I will not let Paimon nor Andras sweep this under the rug and let them get away that easily."
To say Stella was dumbfounded is an understatement. She never knew her King Lucifer personally, but even in Ars Goetia, everyone knew he never bothered with them. To see his daughter being different is just...weird. There has to be a catch somewhere.
"I've been honest with you, your majesty. Now I wish to hear it from you." Stella gathered her strength to stand up, still feeling tipsy from wine consumption. "What's your goal with us? Are you trying to sway Octavia to be your most loyal vassal when the time comes?"
"I don't care about the whole "royal" feud, Stella. Octavia is my friend and Goetian cousin. No one deserves to lose their parents for some politics."
Stella again raised an eyebrow at Charlie's reasoning. But she can see there is a genuine belief in tone.
"Look, I understand your skepticism, Lady Stella," Charlie acknowledged, meeting Stella's gaze with sincerity. "But believe me when I say that my goal is not to sway Octavia to be my loyal vassal. I want her to make her own choices and find her own path. My aim is to protect her and provide her with the support she needs in this difficult situation. Octavia is important to me, not just as a potential ally or vassal, but as my closest friend."
Stella's eyes relaxed as she listened to Charlie's words. She could sense the genuine concern and care in her voice. With no response, the swan demon sighed and nodded, her initial doubts beginning to fade away.
"Where is Octavia?" Stella looked back at where the entrance is supposed to be.
"Needs some time alone before...you know." Charlie didn't want to go any further.
"How typical...she always tries to run away from the problems...she never changes." Stella shook her head; her tone did show some concern.
"It's understandable. The toll of knowing her parents might be executed is unbearable. Grief and difficult situations can be overwhelming, and everyone copes in their own way." Charlie said, her voice filled with empathy.
Stella sighed, frustration and worry evident on her face. She had seen Octavia retreat into her shell when faced with challenges many times, and it concerned her.
"I just hope she doesn't isolate herself completely, your majesty" Stella said, her voice tinged with concern. "Octavia has a tendency to bottle up her emotions. It's not healthy, especially when the time comes for her to take what rightfully belongs to her."
Charlie wanted to ask further, but when the doors to the House of Commons opened, the secretary-looking bird made her appearance with a note clip in her hands.
"Lady Stella of House Andras-Phenexia. Your presence is required for the trial to commence."
"Yeah, yeah." Stella dismally stated, unwillingly going inside and throwing the empty bottle on the floor. It did not break on impact.
The secretary bird just wrote it down before looking at the Princess of Hell.
"Your Majesty, the Electorate welcomes you for your participation in the Trial. Your seat is on the upper row. Allow me to guide you through."
"Thank you." Charlie returned the honor before she followed the secretary bird inside to the House of Commons.
Charlie followed the Secretary Bird through the doors of the House of Commons, entering the grand chamber filled with Goetian electorate members. As usual, the room was adorned with intricate carvings and symbols, representing the diverse realms and factions within the Goetian hierarchy.
The House of Commons, or Goetian Diet, is what you can call a "King's advisory council". Like the Stygian Council, the Goetian Electorate handles the affairs that are often required for Ars to listen, hence why there was an empty throne surrounded by two tables for electors, with three members for each table. Phenex, Astaroth, and Vassago were on the left table, while Marbas and Morax were on the right.
"Your seat, your majesty" The Secretary Bird bowed her head before leaving to attend the micromanagement of this procedure.
Charlie took her seat on the upper row, her gaze sweeping across the chamber. The room was filled with Goetian nobles, officials, and spectators, all waiting for the trial to commence, including the main players.
Both the Great Marquis Andras and Marquis Andrealphus were there, patiently waiting. Andras' son just yawned in boredom, flapping his hand fan near his face. Even when Stella joined them in her seat near them, none of them bothered to even look at her. Andras was uptight as always, waiting just to be done with this whole trial nosense...the feelings were mutual as Stella ignored them.
On the other side of these feuds, Stolas and Gaap sat on opposite sides, each displaying different reactions to the situation. Gaap seemed disinterested, absorbed in his phone, while Stolas fidgeted nervously with his talons. Even Charlie from here saw him being worried...not for himself but for Octavia's sake.
"Stay strong, you two." Charlie whispered, wishing both Stella and Stolas all the best....and hopefully, cooperation with each other.
Octavia would also arrive, gently entering inside and proceeding to join Charlie on the nearest seat. Charlie smiled warmly as Octavia took her seat.
"Sorry about that earlier, Charlie...just really needed some alone time."
"It's alright, Octavia," Charlie whispered softly. She could see the emotions still weighing heavily on Octavia, but it was admirable to see her strength in joining them despite everything she was going through. "I'm glad you're here now with me."
Octavia nodded, her gaze focused on the chamber ahead....on her father, actually. Stolas already saw his daughter arrive. But as soon as her eyes met his, the Prince of Goetia smiled warmly. He kissed his talons and blew the air kiss...his way of saying that no matter what happens to him, he will always love her no matter what.
Octavia's eyes welled up with tears as she saw her father's loving gesture. A small, appreciative smile formed on Octavia's lips as she returned the air kiss to her father, silently conveying her love and gratitude for everything he had done. Stella watched that interaction and did nothing...nothing but show disappointment in her expression.
It seems that the Goetian Diet is having or finishing the previous segment of the typical Diet meeting. This time it's about the Envy Ring and Ars Goetia's relationship. Charlie narrowed her eyes to see who the electorate was speaking with and what it looked like.
Wait...
"You assume that Ars Goetia seeks to undermine Lord Leviathan. But we assure you that neither we nor Ars Bael nor the rest of Goetia wishes to have a war with the Ring of Envy, Grand-Admiral Cal." Prince Vassago spoke to the attendee.
"Unholy shit...that's Cal!" Charlie quietly exclaimed, enough to not draw any attention.
"You know him?" Octavia looked at Charlie, intrigued by her reaction.
"Yeah, he is my old classmate and friend of Seviathan. My, it's been ages since we saw each other!" Charlie expressed herself. And still she couldn't believe that her old classmate and friend from the Ring of Envy was present at the Goetian Diet meeting. Her old classmate stood in front of the pew, arms crossed and with a deterrent face...in dad's own words, he didn't take any shit from the Goetian Demons.
"Lord Leviathan Von Eldritch made it clear, and you have been warned many times. If you want your trade ships on our Envy Ring, you must pay your toll!" Admiral Cal's tone was firm against the Electorate.
"This is absurd! We provide regular transportation of goods to the rest of the Rings. By blocking our ships, you're harming the economy of Inferno!" Elector Count Morax complained.
"Lord Leviathan doesn't give a single drop of water for what you think. My Lord's orders are clear. Either pay your taxes or we rain fire on your fleet every time you set sail on envious soil."
Count Morax only narrowed his eyes in distrust, as did Cal, who returned it. The Admiral of the Envy Fleet defended Leviathan's honor, even if he needed to insult Goetia here. The tension in the chamber grew quickly from their death stares. Charlie watched intently, her eyes shifting between the two figures.
"What's the dispute about?" Octavia leaned closer to Charlie, her voice filled with curiosity. "Why are they arguing over trade ships?"
"It's a long story, Via." Charlie took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. “Uncle Levi hates Ars Goetia for what they did to him a long time ago."
"I can guess why..." Octavia muttered, not surprised if that was the case....typical Goetia.
The tension still grew in the chamber, but thankfully, Phenex Goetia stepped in, letting her voice be heard.
"♪ Perhaps if his Majesty of the Sea would be charitable as to lower the toll value? ♪" Phenex suggested pragmatism for the sake of civility in Inferno. "I'm sure that the rest of Goetia will be willing to pay as long as the toll is charitable. My flaming heart goes out to Leviathan, but even I can't agree with these demands, hmm yes."
"Not in millions of years!" Astaroth objected completely to his fellow elector's reasoning. "We won't give a single penny to that marauder who pillaged our ships back in Ars Belial's time! He and that dead traitorous Goetia can rot in the waters of Envy!"
"That's our beloved Queen Unsere Von Eldtrich for you, you parasite! Show some respect!" Cal demanded
"Make me, you fish abomination. your kind are like Hellhounds, no honor whatsoever!"
The exchange between Astaroth and Cal escalated quickly, with insults being hurled back and forth. The tension in the chamber reached its peak, and the atmosphere became charged with animosity and hostility.
"ENOUGH!" Phenex finally made a stand, seeing that the diet is getting out of control. Her voice carried authority and conviction, cutting through the tension in the chamber. The participants turned their attention to her, and their heated arguments were silenced for a moment. "♪ We already lost the situation in the occupied Ring of Limbo, and now we are fighting each other. The last thing we need is a second Ars Goetian-Envy War on our soil for our greatest enemy's betterment. ♪"
"My lord's orders are clear, Lady Phenex." Cal again interjected, not wanting to argue with parasites' at this point anymore. "Pay us, and we will allow your ships on the Envy Ring. Refuse and enter our ring; you face the might of the Von Eldritch fleet. Retaliate, and that would be an act of war!"
Admiral Cal then just turned around and proceeded to take his leave. As Admiral Cal made his exit, the chamber erupted with a mix of boos, insults, and disapproving murmurs at the Envy Demon. Charlie watched as Cal left the chamber, her heart heavy with the weight of the situation. She turned to Octavia, concern etched on her face.
"How much do you bet Ars Goetia will now target the nobility of Envy, Via?"
"All my souls, Charlie. Maybe even the royal family if needed. Bitterness is what Goetia is. You already know it from my parents' feuds."
"Yeah...figured as much." Charlie shook her head. The last thing Inferno needs is for Seviathan or Cal to be assassinated by Ars Goetia...Charlie sure does live in strange times in Hell.
As the chamber slowly settled after Cal's departure, Duke Astaroth would then comment on this entire thing, slamming his talon against the table.
"Unfucking believable, the audacity of the Serene Admiralty of the Envy Ring to dictate Ars Goetia with terms! The sooner Lord Lucifer grants us the right to annihilate the Ring of Envy, the better it will be."
"♪ You're being irrational, Lord Astaroth. ♪ " Phenex rolled her eyes. "♪ Your militarism is not needed at this very moment as Limbo is being ravaged, hmm yes. ♪ "
"I'm upholding the ideals of Ars Goetia, Great Marquise Phenex." Just as founding Ars Theurgia Goetia intended."
"Oh! Do you own a musket for home defense, Lord Astaroth?" Gaap called out, giggling like a teenager who is about to make a prank.
"Yes, I do...why it funny for you, young Gaap?" Lord Astaroth crossed his arms.
"Oh, nothing...hehe." Gaap blocked his beak from laughing. Stolas near Gaap just rolled his eyes at this behavior.
"Kids these days..." Stolas muttered.
The electors glanced at each other, most of them shrugging with the exception of Phenex, who is just bored now. The silence in the chamber remained a bit before Astaroth once again settled down on his chair. It's a long day ahead for them.
"Regarding our situation with Envy Ring, we will postpone it until the situation with the succession of new Ars is resolved. Until then, the time has come to deal with the House feuds."
"Here we go..." Octavia muttered, already dropping her head as it was about to begin...
"Prince Stolas, to the tribune."
Great Elector Prince Vassago's command drew the attention of the chamber, redirecting the focus towards Prince Stolas. Stolas, caught off guard but composed, rose from his seat and made his way to the tribune.
Prince-Elector Vassago watched Stolas intently. He adjusted his position, leaning forward with his hands clasped before him. Stolas stopped at the tribune and made the deepest bow to the electorate. It made Vassago sigh in defeat...at least he hoped it would be the last straw of that feud.
"♪ Stella Goetia, to the tribune, hmm yes. ♪ " Phenex was next to call her subordinate and niece.
Like Stolas, Stella rose from her seat and made her way to the other tribune. Andrealphus mockingly waved her goodbye, as it's the last he will ever see her. Such a shame to lose those looks, but oh well, good riddance. On the other hand, Andras watched his daughter with a stern look, with a face of "I'm so disappointed in you." Not the first time Stella failed her father, and today would be the last time she ever failed Marquis Andras.
The electorate looked attentively at Stella before now focusing on these two. There was an awkward silence as members of the electorate, with the exception of Phenex, looked at Stella and Stolas with disapproving looks. Each, of course, represented their own agenda and their own views on these two.
"Your full names," Astaroth demanded.
"Stella/Stolas-" Both Stella and Stolas said at the same time. They looked at each other with angry stares before Stella opened her beak...and Stolas still cut her off. "Prince Stolas Goetia of House Paimon, 36th Spirit of Lemegeton."
"Stella Goetia of House Andras-Phenexia, Egg-Bearer and Princess-Consort." Stella did her part.
"Ex-Consort." Stolas noted his tone, seeing that she was playing with the words.
"In your case, it's the biggest bitch of-" Stella was about to begin, only to be shut down by Astaroth's voice.
"Best for you to keep your mouth shut unless you're allowed to speak! Bael didn't give me the title "Executioner" for nothing. I'm happy to cut short the trial procedures if you so wish."
Stolas and Stella, having received the warnings from Duke Astaroth, immediately silenced themselves. Vassago cleared his throat and addressed the next set of individuals.
"Lord Andras, your full name and title."
The Old Swan Demon stood up, his demeanor stoic as always.
"Great Marquis Andras Goetia, 63rd Spirit of Lemegeton and founder of House Andras, with the union of Phenexia through Marquise-Elector Phenex, 37th Spirit of Lemegeton. Husband to deceased Starlene Goetia and Father to Stella Goetia and Marquis Andrealphus, 65th Spirit of Lemegeton."
"Such a cold pleasure to meet you all." Andrelaphus casually waved his hand at everyone. It earned him a threatening look from his father, causing Andre to stop it immediately...not fun whatsoever.
The electorate didn't dignify itself with a response, with Vassago instead focusing on the other side. "Young Gaap, your full name and title."
Before standing up, the young Goetia would look at Octavia, who nervously played with her locks already, fully worried and stressed from all of this. Smirking at her and muttering not nice words about Octavia, he would then stand up.
"Prince Paimonius-Zeparian Gaap Goetia of House Paimon, grandson to King Paimon, 9th Spirit of Lemegeton."
"Thank you, Gaap." Astaroth wrote it down, mostly just bureaucratic nonsense. And finally, there was the young owl herself. "Octavia, stand up."
Octavia, feeling the slight discomfort of so many eyes upon her, rose from her seat.
"Princess Vivian-Stolasia Octavia Goetia of House Paimon and House Andras-Phenexia, daughter to Prince Stolas and Stella Goetia."
"Thank you, Octavia." Astaroth gestured for her to sit down, which the young owl did, with Charlie leaning toward her.
"What's with the weird names?" Charlie whispered to her
"Nobility bullshit, Charlie. Since me and that prick Gaap are the third generation of Goetia, we inherit the names from our parents and grandfathers. Just don't bother; I'm Octavia and always will be Octavia...or Via...or Tavi...or Octie...you get my point."
Duke Astaroth wrote down the rest of the names and everything that was needed for the procedure to commence, laying the feather pen down.
"Looks like everyone's accounted for. What about King Paimon?"
"Busy with 'Syncretism' for now, Lord Astaroth. Gaap told me he would handle it on his grandfather's behalf." Vassago explained.
"Hmm, young cock is not even a spirit and already does a grandfather's job....impressive." President Marbas admired Gaap's skills.
"♪ Oh, please. Octavia can do ten times better than him. ♪ " Phenex whispered, waving Marbas off.
"That remains to be seen with them. As for now, we have important matters to attend to." Astaroth muttered, reminding his fellow electors that they must deal with these two for now.
The Electors gave each other nods, grabbing their own feather pens and documents for the legal procedure. As the chamber settled into a focused silence, the time for formalities had passed, and now it was time to address the pressing matters at hand.
Astaroth would stand up, talons behind his back, as he addressed the rest.
"Lords, princes, marquises, and presidents, in the name of our Ars of Goetia, we all welcome you all for the 3064th session of the Goetian Diet. For today, it's a special case that needs to be addressed. And now, by the right of the electorate, this session is now open."
With the opening statement done, Astaroth sat down once more, with another elector beginning his part.
"First and foremost," Prince Vassago began. "Prince Stolas and Stella Goetia, as per usual, do you know why the Goetian Electorate summoned you two here?"
"Because of divorce, my Elector?" Stolas carefully presumed, his voice weak and respectful to the electorate.
"Ah, so you do have brains in that numbskull of yours, Prince Stolas." Duke Astaroth spoke harshly, his eyes narrowing in hatred. It earned some quiet smirks, especially from Andrealphus'. "You see, Prince Stolas. I don't know how Vassago's predecessor Sitri tolerated your misbehavior, but unlike him, you and Stella will answer for every damage you caused to Ars Goetia. Prince-Elector Vassago, you may begin."
"Who do you think would be our obstacle to saving your parents?" Charlie asked, hoping that members of the electorate were fair with their verdicts.
"Astaroth and Marbas. I can't say much about Morax." Octavia presumed, still fully worried.
In the meantime, Prince Vassago flipped through the various papyruses, searching for the specific one. He will find what he is looking for before addressing it.
"So, papyrus number 31563-x12 states that on 25 of Heartfire, 361 of the Third Era, the House of Andras-Phenexia and House Paimon officially signed the declaration of alliance. Lord Andras, young Gaap, is that correct?"
"Correct, My Elector. King Paimon extended his talon first." Andras stated.
"And I confirm what Lord Andras is saying is the truth, my Elector. It was my grandfather's decision in the first place." Gaap agreed.
Well, that turned out worse for Octavia and Charlie. The owl demon already sees that both Andras and Gaap are cooperating against her parents. There is a single dot of hope that her mom and dad will cooperate too, but that's Stolas and Stella we are talking about.
Prince Vassago wrote something on his paper before continuing with the facts about the marriage. "By the alliance treaty, it was agreed that King Paimon's ninth son, Prince Stolas Goetia, aged 6 at that time, would be betrothed to Andras's daughter, Stella Goetia, aged 7 at that time. Is that correct, Gaap?"
"Yes, my Elector." Gaap acknowledged, impatient with these procedures.
"And so, by the age of 18 for Stolas and 19 for Stella, Octavia Goetia was born, thus fulfilling the demands of that alliance. Is that correct, Lord Andras?"
"Yes, my Elector. And I was specifically told by Paimon that alliances will remain until the end." Andras stated this with crossed arms.
"I see..." Vassago murmured, noting that on the paper before checking the papyrus once more. It seems the requirements of marriage end here, with the exception that any of Octavia's future sisters or brothers are also cemented in the union of two houses by their birthright. Since Octavia is an only child, there was no need to mention that.
The Elector of Princes once again grabbed another set of papyrus, this time detailing every Stella and Stola misbehavior through the eyes of Goetia...and the list is already big at first glance.
"The first incident between Prince Stolas and Stella dates back to the time of their first year of betrothal. According to the scroll, it states that Stella Goetia gave a "wedgie" to Stolas." Vassago made a pause and had to recheck if he misread it or not. Turns out he didn't. "Stolas, is that correct?"
"Yes, my elector. That indeed happened." Prince Stolas sniffed at the end...still left a scar in his memory.
"Oh, grow up, you imphile. I was having harmless fun with you." Stella defended herself.
"That was my favorite pair of underwear, you bitch!"
"Lick my cunt, you old sack of shi-"
"ENOUGH!" Astaroth immediately stopped them from going into a screaming match. "May I remind you that interrupting an elector is an act of treason against Ars Goetia!"
Stolas and Stella reluctantly nodded, despite both being eager to scream at each other more. Octavia, from afar, only rubbed her face in frustration; how they can't see that they will be dead by the end of the trial is beyond her. Marquise Phenex also shook her head, dissatisfied with the behavior of Stolas and Stella during the trial proceedings.
Prince Vassago cleared his throat, regaining composure, and continued with the list of incidents recorded. "Moving on, there have been numerous incidents of verbal and physical altercations, as well as instances of reckless behavior, public embarrassment, and disrespect towards fellow members of the Goetian House. Stella Goetia, do you acknowledge that?"
"On what basis?"
"You called King Paimon and I quote, 'a piece of turd and plebeian lover that was dropped by Heaven like some kind of trash.'"
"And I called Stolas over there a "Limp dick" so who cares? I have the right to free speech in Ars Goetia."
"HA!" Andrealphus laughed once. Andras once again glanced at his son with a death stare, and another single stare made Andre shut up once more.
"Noted, Stella Goetia..." Vassago sighed, while Phenex disapprovingly looked at Stella. The Swan Demon shrugged back at Phenex. What else should she say?
Prince Vassago once more continued, skipping the records of useless information before stopping at the specific record...
Where it all started.
"Sun's Height 30, 383 of the Third Era, you, Stolas Goetia, filled out a divorce paper. Sun's Height 31, 383 of the Third Era: Your paper has been received by the Diet and Ars Bael's eyes. However, a few months later, we received a report that you had been targeted by Stella Goetia's assassin, named..."Striker". Is that correct?"
"Yes, my Electorate." Stolas felt more relief now that he had a chance to defend himself. "Not only did she abuse me for the rest of my life, but that monster on the left went as far as to hire an assassin to target me. Five attempts were made, and one of them managed to get me into the hospital!"
"Stella, the committee overlooked the incident, and Stolas's words are truthful. Care to explain your actions?" Vassago gave Stella a chance to defend herself.
"My electorate, I had the full right to defend my father's honor. By divorcing me, Prince Stolas put a shame on the house of Andras-Phenexia!" Stella tried to justify her actions.
"NO, YOU DON'T!" Stolas objected, getting angrier at these blatant lies and with Stella twisting the narrative. "You and your ice-bitch brother of yours wanted nothing but blood on me!"
"Your blood is not worth my time, Stolas, even if I have to resort to cannibalism!"
"Ste-"
"That's not surprising, coming from the one who tries to justify hiring an assassin. That's so low, even to the point where the Treachery Ring looks warm compared to you!"
"Stolas, please-"
"You're just upset because I managed to hit you where it hurts! What's the matter, poor little owl boy?! You spent your time crying in the hospital bed without his imp fuck buddy? Oh, boo fucking hoo, Stolas! Grow up, you man-child!" Stella retorted, crossing her arms.
"My Blitzy should have killed you a long time ago!"
"The only thing he will hit is your sorry ass face with his cum, you fuck!"
"WHY YOU-" Stolas growled, going for the next rant.
And once more, these two continued to hurl insults at each other, their voices reaching new heights. Andrealphus smirked at this. Oh, these two, a favorite pair of clowns. Andras only crossed his arms, uptight as always.
"You have the fashion sense of a blind hellhound, Stolas!"
"And you have the intelligence of a rock, Stella!"
"Your cooking is an abomination!"
"And your singing could wake the entire Valley of Ars Belial!"
The other members of the electorate exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to keep a straight face from this Mammon's circus. Even the usually composed Duke Astaroth found it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure, and Phenex wants to fucking defect to Heaven at this point...
"You two are acting like children!" Phenex chimed in; her voice had no strength to even sing.
"Well, he started it, Aunt!" Stella pouted, crossing her arms.
"You're always been the instigator!" Stolas rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Because you can't do anything properly, Stolas! One time, you remained flaccid for TEN FUCKING MINUTES!"
"Oh, no..." Octavia cringed so hard, she tugged her entire beanie to her face. She couldn't believe her ears and desperately wished she could disappear into thin air...just somewhere else, NOT HERE!
And Charlie has two words on this...
"Excuse me!?" Stolas didn't believe what he just heard.
"Yes, you heard me, Stol-ass!" Stella returned it before telling the next part to the electorate, who, in layman's terms, just want to kill themselves. "My electorate, let me tell you a story of the day Octavia was conceived because, I swear to the Devil, it was the most horrible 10 minutes I had to endure!"
"NO-NO-NO-NO! NO FUCKING NO!" With the exception of Phenex, all of the Electors protested so hard, their voices strained with frustration and agony.
Stella huffed, clearly disappointed that her scandalous story had been cut short. Stolas, on the other hand, wore a combination of embarrassment and anger on his face.
"How dare you talk about our private lives to them?! Would you be happy if I told the entire electorate how your cunt smells like a fish, you spoiled bitch?"
"That's a perfume, you shit for brains! No doubt the types like you have never in their miserable lives ever smeared some perfume!"
"I had some of my plants dying because of your smell!"
"Ah, what a shame, Stolas! Your cock-sucking plants can't give you fellatio anymore?!"
"HOW ABOUT YOU SUCK MY COCK THEN!" Stolas finally snapped at her, his face as red as Satan normally is. It managed to silence the entire chamber from gossip or whispers immediately; even Stella was surprised by the outburst. "HUH!? NO WAIT...WE WILL BOTH BE IN HARMONY AS IF IT WILL EVER HAPPEN!"
"YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING PLEB, A DERANGED PLEB!"
"YOU'RE FUCKING RIGHT I'M DERANGED! HOW COULD I NOT BE BECAUSE OF YOU!?"
"I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU YEARS AGO, YOU STUPID SHIT!"
"DO IT, STELLA, DO IT! BLITZY WILL PUT YOU IN THE FUCKING GROUND WITH STRIKER!"
And here, both Stella and Stolas stopped screaming at each other and breathed heavily, tired from this shouting match. Never in his life did Stolas feel so much anger...and the power of wrath he let out on her. In a way, it was a combination of every abuse, every trauma, and every humiliation that Stella ever did to him, finally released.
The room fell into complete silence as their outburst hung in the air. The members of the electorate exchanged shocked glances, their eyes wide with disbelief at the sudden escalation of the argument. Octavia, who had been desperately trying to shrink into her beanie, could feel her face turning scarlet with embarrassment. She couldn't believe the level of immaturity and vulgarity displayed by her parents in front of the electorate.
And Charlie was...just sad. She made a promise to Octavia that she would try to save her parents from a death sentence. But again, Stolas and Stella are busy trying to get rid of each other, forgetting that Octavia is watching them. Hence, the Princess of Hell has to do something that she has never done before.
Intervene in the Goetian affair.
Much to Octavia's surprise, Charlie raised her hand, gaining attention from the Vassago.
"Yes, your majesty?"
"May I walk in?"
"Of course." Vassago replied, and the rest of the electors gave a nod to proceed freely.
"Charlie, what are-" Octavia, still wearing her beanie pulled low over her face, peeked out to look at her.
"Just trust me, Via." Charlie assured her before making her way. All of the spectators turned their eyes at their future queen, and Andras and Andreaphalus watched her attentively. Gaap was busy recording the whole circus game with Octavia's parents without anyone noticing.
"My Electorate." Charlie began, showing respect to her vassals. The electorate members exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of what exactly Charlie was planning with her statement. "As daughter of Lucifer, it pains me to witness the disarray within the Ars Goetia, I believe it is important for us to acknowledge the reality of the situation. The marriage of Stella and Stolas has demonstrated time and again that they are not compatible for a harmonious relationship."
"With what we saw today, the Electorate sees it already, your majesty." Vassago responded. "What are you suggesting?"
"I suggest letting Stolas and Stella go their own ways and honoring Stolas' filing divorce. If needed, Lord Paimon and Lord Andras shall be compensated."
"This is absurd!" Marquis Andras objected, standing up from his seat. "My Electorate, you can't just accept this idea. This goes against our agreement with King Lucifer for autonomy!"
"Quiet, Lord Andras." Vassago demanded. Andras reluctantly complied, but that didn't mean he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted from this trial. The Prince-Elector would then continue once more to Charlie. "Your majesty, we see from the direction you are looking. But unfortunately, we cannot ignore the evidence presented before us. Their constant conflicts have become a source of instability within Ars Goetia. The evidence already shows that Stella was the sole instigator of the assassination attempt."
"With all due respect, Electorate." Stella intervened. "But Marquis Andreaphalus was also involved in a conspiracy."
The swan demon then looked at Phenex and begged her aunt with an expression of worry. Phenex gave a barely noticeable nod before addressing.
"♪ My fellow electors. By the laws of Ars Goetia Stella, she has the right to object to the evidence. By her own claims, Marquis Andreaphalus was also responsible for Stolas' assassination attempt, hmm yes. ♪ "
Phenex's words caused a murmur of uncertainty among the electorate members. Andre himself just crossed his arms, waiting patiently for the opportunity to arrive.
"That's some serious accusation in Marquis's direction. Andrealphus, you have the right to defend himself." Vassago allowed the accused to speak.
The Marquis of Snow quietly chuckled as he stood up; he trailed his fingers against Andras' shoulder, his way of saying that his son would handle it.
"There is nothing to say, My Electorate. When I heard my sister went completely mad with the murder attempt on her husband, I was completely shocked, surprised, and horrified...but then again, Stella wasn't the brightest daughter to our papa. I had to keep her unleashed for her to not do something stupid."
"Then how come Stella had contacts to assassins if she lived with Stolas? It's no secret you have a list of assassins stored with you, Andre." Vassago continued, knowing him quite enough that it's not that simple with him.
"Of course, my father has the list of contacts, and so do you, my Prince-Elector. But freelancers and self-proclaimed assassins are like piles of trash these days. Stella could have just hired one from the Internet. It's not that hard, you know."
"Liar! I did not act alone! You know it, Andre!" Stella's eyes blazed with fury as she vehemently denied the accusations against her. Her voice trembled with anger as she shouted at her brother.
Andrealphus, maintaining his composed demeanor, responded with a sly smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Such hotheadedness, Stella. But as I said before, I tried to mend the wounds, yet you didn't help at all. Poor Stolas had to endure so much."
Stolas, rolled his eyes at Andrealphus' words. He saw through Andre's façade, recognizing the manipulation behind his friendly demeanor. It was clear that Andrealphus was trying to paint Stella in a negative light, but Stolas remained indifferent...good riddance to Stella, anyway.
"My son Andrealphus has been with me most of the time." Andras, unable to stay silent any longer, interjected, defending his son's innocence. "There is no way he could have been involved in Stella and Stolas' feuds without me noticing."
"I agree with Lord Andras. At the time when assassination attempts started, Andreaphalus was busy helping out his father, Andras. So far, the evidence points to Stella as the sole instigator."
Vassago's eyes then swept across the room, gauging the reactions of the Electorate members. Some nodded in agreement, while others wore thoughtful expressions.
"Which leaves the final part." Duke Astaroth said, taking charge of the proceedings, and focused his attention on Stella. "Stella Goetia, do you acknowledge yourself as the sole responsible suspect in the murder attempt on Prince Stolas Goetia?"
"No, my Elector," Stella's face contorted with defiance as she refused to accept the accusation. She would rather die on a hill until Andrealphus will also be judged with her...
"Then may the Devil have mercy on your soul if the evidence is on your side, Stella." Duke Astaroth recorded her response, his pen gliding across the parchment. Without getting in the way, the Electorate can now focus on the other side of the feud.
On Stolas
"Stolas Goetia," Prince Vassago addressed Prince Stolas, his tone serious. "You are now the focus of our inquiry."
"I am ready to cooperate fully and provide any information necessary, Vassago." Stolas replied, his expression calm and composed. "I have nothing to hide."
Vassago observed Stolas closely, evaluating his behavior and demeanor here on the trial. Stolas didn't show any worry or stress; with a clear mind, he will leave this trial alive and well...but Ars Goetia has other plans.
"Young Gaap, it appears you have something to deliver." Vassago remarked, as he glanced up at Gaap
Gaap stepped forward, clutching a small bundle in his hands. He approached Stolas without sparing a glance at his step-uncle. Wordlessly, Gaap handed the bundle to Vassago, who carefully unwrapped it.
"Uncle Stolas." Gaap slowly turned towards Prince Stolas, a smirk hidden at the edge of his lips. "Do you acknowledge your attempt to undermine my grandfather, King Paimon of House Paimon?"
"What?!" Stolas was utterly bewildered.
"Don't pretend to be clueless before the Electorate, Uncle." Gaap again smirked. In the meantime, the contents were unveiled by Electors, and a profound silence descended upon the room. It was a collection of letters, each bearing Paimon's seal and unmistakably penned in his own handwriting. "These letters were written by Paimon before Ars Bael's demise. The words of King Paimon are unequivocal, declaring you, Stolas, of treason against him and the entire House of Paimon!"
Gasps rippled through the spectators, catching even Andrealphus and Andras off guard. Vassago was also baffled by it. Then again, the House of Paimon is renowned for its cunning and deceit. Octavia, on the other hand, remained unfazed. Ars Goetia does not adhere to a "who acted first" kind of law; her parents are equally accountable...and more and more she tries to hold back her tears.
"But... but I would never betray our father, My Elector! There must be some mistake! I have always been loyal to him!" Stolas, still reeling from the shock, struggled to find his voice.
"The moment you signed the divorce papers regarding Andras' daughter, you tarnished my Grandfather's reputation, uncle Stolas. He warned you repeatedly!" Gaap's voice grew harsher as he continued to berate his uncle.
In a desperate attempt to defend himself, Stolas interjected, his tone filled with pain. "Vassago, Stella abused me. I couldn't bear the pain any longer!"
"I'm sorry, Stolas. But these papers have shown the clear image. As much as I want to, there is no power for me to object to my father...and the future Ars of Goetia."
"Shame your own father wasn't able to gouge your eyes out first, my elector." Stella hissed, even though Vassago heard it quite well.
"And I recommend you watch your beak, Stella." Gaap retorted sharply, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.
"So that's why you're opposed to a peaceful divorce, huh?" Charlie muttered, observing the double standards at display. "You're a despicable Goetia, Gaap! Look at Octavia over there; you're trying to make her an orphan!"
The young Gaap didn't even bother to acknowledge his cousin as he defensively crossed his arms.
"Tell me this, your majesty. Should my uncle Vassago and the rest of the Electorate twist the ancient laws of Ars Belial out of some misplaced sense of piety? No, Your Majesty. Stolas and Stela will be held accountable before the electorate, as well as by the right."
"But where is the justice when Goetias like Paimon are accusing their own son of treason?" Charlie objected. "Members of the Electorate, I implore you to see reason. You can't just allow this!"
"♪ As much as I agree with you, your majesty. We have no authority to object to the King's wishes. I'm so sorry it came to this...and for Octavia, as well. ♪ " Phenex cooed; she was fully 100% on Charlie's side.
"Goetias like you are the reason my Uncle Leviathan hates you, Gaap. You're nothing but a parasite, leeching when opportunity arrives." Charlie muttered that last part to herself, finally understanding Leviathan's hatred.
With a heavy heart, Charlie took a step back and walked away. Gaap, satisfied with Charlie's cooperation, maintained his stern expression as he turned his attention back to the proceedings at hand. Charlie's footsteps were hard and angry, and he was still not believing what just happened. She returned to Octavia, who completely covered her face...and sobbing.
"I'm very sorry, Via." Charlie expressed her own sorrow. She reached out and gently placed a hand on Octavia's shoulder, offering what comfort she could. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on both of them, with the burden of family conflicts and the pain of broken promises taking their toll. It hurts when she can't fulfill her own promises, just like with Happy Hotel.
"N-not your fault. My stupid-ass mom and dad can't just let it go already!" Octavia sobbed.
Stolas watched as her daughter cried...and could not do anything about it. He turned his head back at Vassago, wishing anything his half-brother can do anything to help him.
"Stolas Goetia, do you have any evidence against your treachery?" Astaroth asked, proceeding with the trial.
"No...just let my dad know I hate him for everything he has done to me. I hope his rule as Ars Paimon will be the shortest in Inferno’s recorded history!"
"And I hope your entire House burns to the ground, Vassago!" Stella added too.
"Noted." Vassago sighed as he didn't dignify himself with Stella's petty insults; instead, he addressed the rest of the spectators. "The Ars Electorate has heard the pleas, some less convincing than others. Now we commence the procurement of evidence and the final verdict. Glory to Ars Goetia, for in Ars-"
"There is Goetia" All of the Goetias returned, thus concluding the first part of the trial for the time being.
"Come on, let me help wash your face." Charlie cooed as Octavia guided her Goetian cousin into the chamber.
Charlie gently guided Octavia out of the chamber, leading her towards a secluded area where they could have a moment of respite. As they reached a nearby washroom, Charlie turned on the faucet, letting the water flow and fill the basin.
"Here, let me help you," Charlie said softly, wetting a cloth and carefully wiping away Octavia's tears and smudged makeup. She handled the task with tenderness and care, even though Octavia's makeup was fully destroyed.
Octavia sniffled and allowed Charlie to clean her face, grateful for her cousin's presence and support. As the cool water touched her skin, she felt a brief sense of relief, as if washing away some of the emotional weight she had been carrying...still the pain was stronger for her.
"Thank you, Charlie," Octavia whispered, her voice still shaky. "At this point...I just want to put a noose around my neck."
"Shh, it's alright. You're brave, Goetia, Via. But you don't have to go through this alone." Charlie again washed some tears away and embraced Via in a tight hug, helping her emotions out. "We're family in a way, and I'll always be here for you."
"Better?"
"B-better..." Octavia sniffed.
"Come on, then. Maybe we will still have a chance to make it right.."
Charlie held onto Octavia for a moment longer, providing all the comfort and reassurance she could. As they separated from the hug, she offered Octavia a small smile, reassuring her that everything would be alright...even if Charlie wasn't completely sure.
With renewed spirits, the two princesses of Hell exited the washroom. The corridors of Ars Bael's castle were filled with Goetias, some of them laughed or chatted about usual stuff. Andrealphus spent his time flirting with various Goetias of minor nobility while Andras was discussing with young Gaap, neither Octavia nor Charlie being able to hear.
Stolas and Stella were there as well, obviously at a distance from each other. Stolas immediately rushed to her, full of excuses.
"Via, I-"
"What now, Dad!?" Octavia lashed out. Her voice carried a mix of anger, frustration, and sadness. Octavia's emotions were running high, and she couldn't help but release some of her pent-up feelings towards her father.
Stolas flinched at the sharpness of Octavia's tone, taken aback by her outburst. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before speaking again.
"Octavia, I understand that you're angry with me, and I don't blame you," Stolas began, his voice filled with a hint of sorrow. "I made terrible mistakes, and I deeply regret the pain I've caused you."
Octavia's anger intensified, and tears welled up in her eyes. The pain of the situation was becoming overwhelming, and she couldn't hold back her emotions any longer.
"Many times, you say you love me, but where was that love when you began to fuck Blitz? Where was that love when you forgot to show me Azathoth's tears, huh?!" Octavia's voice cracked as she struggled to maintain her emotions. "All I ever wanted was for us to be normal family, but you and that bitch ruined that for me! And even now, you let her get the better of you, while you both fell back to fucking arguing again!”
Stolas was visibly taken aback by the rawness of Octavia's words.
"Via, I-" He tried to reach out and touch her arm, but she swiftly pulled away.
"DON’T TOUCH ME!" Octavia choked on her words, tears streaming down her face. "You've shattered my trust so many times, Dad!"
Stolas stood there, his heart breaking at the sight of his daughter's pain. He realized the depth of the wounds he had inflicted upon her, and no excuse or apology could erase the hurt he had caused.
"I have been a terrible father, Via..."
"And now you will be a dead one very soon!" Octavia wiped her tears, her anger mixing with the overwhelming sadness inside her. "I won't be here to mourn you. I won't lay flowers on your grave, I won't visit your tomb!"
"I'm done with you!"
Even though Octavia tried to be serious, she still succumbed to her tears and fell to her knees on the cold floor. Stolas felt his heart shatter as Octavia's words pierced through him like daggers. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, and tell her that he would do anything to make amends, but he knew that his actions had pushed her beyond her breaking point.
Charlie tried to comfort her once again, only to see that someone else would try to ease tension, and the Princess of Hell was glad it was her. Great Marquis Phenex hummed a sweet tune as her heels hit the cold floor. Every step was made with a careful tone to support the rhythm of the tune.
"♪ Twinkle, twinkle, little star. ♪"
"♪ How I wonder what you are!"
"♪ Up above the Hell so high, ♪"
"♪ Like an Goetia in the sky. ♪"
Octavia, still weeping, opened her eyes to see her Great Aunt singing for her...just as she used to in her childhood. Phenex's melodic voice filled the air, bringing a glimmer of comfort amidst the turmoil.
"♪ When the blazing Phoenix is gone, ♪"
"♪ When she nothing shines upon, ♪"
"♪ Then you show your little light, ♪"
"♪ Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. ♪"
As the sweet notes of the lullaby reached Octavia's ears, she felt a sense of familiarity and solace. The gentle touch on her shoulder made her realize that she wasn't alone in her pain. With her aunt's help, Octavia managed to regain some of her composure and stand up.
She hugged Phenex, burrowing her face in Phenex's feathery chest. She just wanted to escape from this world and find her quiet corner to cry...and the Marquise gave her that for now. Stolas saw that his presence wasn't needed anymore...and reluctantly left Octavia alone. Charlie observed Stolas leave before she gazed at Phenex, silently thanking her for her support...and distracting Octavia for now.
Charlie followed Stolas to the balcony, with a view of the castle's garden courtyard and its vast maze stretching out below. The Prince of Goetia leaned against the rail, his expression filled with sorrow and regret. Stella, too, stood nearby, her own thoughts consumed.
"I just don't understand you two..." Charlie expressed herself, her voice tinged with frustration. "Look how much Via is suffering because of your actions. You're on the edge of being sentenced to death, and yet you two are still fighting!"
Both Stella and Stolas had no strength to look at their majesty in the face. Stella just stared at the floor while Stolas closed his eyes. But Charlie's words hung heavy in the air, and silence enveloped the balcony for a moment. Stolas clenched his fists, struggling to find the right words to respond. Finally, he opened his eyes and spoke.
"Our majesty is right, Stella."
Even that caught Stella off guard, as she looked up with a distrustful glance.
"As much as it hurts to admit, we have been fighting so much that Octavia suffered because of it. She doesn't deserve to lose us even if we're worthless pieces of shit."
"Speak for yourself, Stolas." Stella hissed but remained calm.
"I'm dead serious." Stolas didn't want to argue with her; one lifetime is enough for him. "Look at us; look at what our own parents have done to us: betrayed, forgotten, and neglected. I'm not different from you, Stella. Paimon never even visited me once; he always favored Vassago, like yours favored Andrealphus. We may bicker about Octavia's future, but it won't change with us getting executed. So once more, like that day after Octavia was born, I kindly ask you, Stella, to make it work...for us to cooperate for Octavia's own sake. To put your bitterness aside just this once."
Stella didn't even look at Stolas as she crossed her arms. There was a long silence from the swan demon, and Charlie could see the lingering bitterness and resentment in Stella's posture and silence. But eventually Stella would turn her head to Stolas, her eyes right into his.
"My father won't stop until I'm out of the picture for good. To him, I'm just an obstacle on his path to his long game of politics. That's why I tried to pin the blame on Andre. If he was found guilty, my father would have dropped the notion of getting rid of me."
"And you obviously failed at that." Stolas wasn't surprised.
"Again, you show your brain damage, Stolas. Me and my aunt didn't come unprepared."
Without saying anything else, Stella would look back just in case before bending down. It earned Stolas a suspicious look as his ex-wife tugged her own dress up, exposing Stella's own little secret.
An Audio Recorder
It turns out that Stella had an audio recorder tucked inside her leggings all that time. Charlie and Stolas exchanged surprised glances, not expecting that move.
"An audio Recorder, huh?" Stolas wasn't surprised at all.
"Yes, dimwit. A Recorder." Stella sighed. "Back in Funeral Pyre, I overheard my father's conversations. He was invited by someone to meet him in the Ars's Courtyard before the verdict shall commence.Hence, Aunt Phenex tried to contact a "special someone" she knew for help. But from what she told me, the organization her contact was in refused to speak, but that friend of hers gave her the recorder instead."
"So what do we need?" Charlie asked.
"Evidence of Andrealphus' involvement and Andras renouncing his claim. Both will help us a lot. But the hardest part is to sneak into the courtyard without someone noticing us. Unfortunately, I'm not able to get myself close to my father, as I can't leave the interior of the castle without the electorate seeing it as me trying to escape. "
"If you're implying I must go, then I have to decline, Stella. I'm also being watched."
"Which leaves only me then." Charlie murmured to herself, seeing the picture pretty clear. Both Stella and Stolas glanced at Charlie, their gazes filled with uncertainty. Charlie understood the weight of the situation and the potential risks involved. "I know that having an heiress to Inferno will look bad. But like I said, I made a promise to Octavia...and I don't like breaking promises."
"Your bravery knows no bounds, your majesty." Stolas looked at Charlie with admiration. Octavia is very lucky to have the heir of the entire Hell as her friend.
"Stop patronizing our majesty, Stolas." Stella protested, not enjoying the blatant "ass-kissing" of the Monarch of Deadly Sin. She nevertheless handed the recorder to Charlie. "You have 30 minutes before the electorate will gather up once more. I usually don't beg, but...please make haste, your majesty. Give Phenex to the recorder as evidence once you're done, even if she is already attending the verdict segment."
"Got it..." Charlie nodded, looking back at the courtyard. "Alright, see you all in the chambers."
In order to not waste time, Charlie climbed on the rail and was about to jump up, only to be stopped by Stolas's voice.
"Your majesty?"
"Yeah, Stolas?" Charlie turned to him, balancing on the rail.
"Thank you once again for all your help. Whatever happens to us....may your future reign bring the entire hell into a new golden era of justice and prosperity, your majesty Lucifera II."
Charlie smiled, touched by Stolas' words. "Thank you, Stolas...and whatever happens, you're always welcome to book a room in Happy Hotel, free of charge."
With those parting words, Charlie leaped off the rail and landed on her legs with ease, now at the entrance of Bael's courtyard. The Sin herself once again made her presence known.
"What are you doing?!"
"Saving Octavia from this bullshit." Charlie muttered, getting more busy by walking up to the iron gates and trying to open them, only to realize they were locked. Again, no time is wasted; hence, improvisation is needed.
"You're wasting your time with lowlifes like Octavia, Anti-One! See the reason and use your power to crush Ars Goetia!"
"And you're wasting my time with your useless rhetoric, Sin. Now be quiet." Charlie gripped herself on the iron bars and set her foot on the ledges to climb the iron gate. Charlie swung her leg over the gate and gracefully dropped down to the other side. She landed softly on the ground and quickly got on her feet, checking around to see if there were any guards patrolling the iron gate.
"Good, no one is here." Charlie muttered to herself, reaching for her pocket to get her phone out, checking the time.
26 minutes left...n o time waste.
Navigating the courtyard, Charlie kept a keen eye out for any signs or any potential threats. She moved cautiously, trying to remain undetected. The courtyard garden was guarded by some of Ars Bael's...well Ex Bael's guards, each with their own Guard spots. Charlie was lucky, as hedges were tall enough to cover her.
"Shit..." Charlie cursed as she crouched behind the tall hedges; she overheard a conversation between two guards stationed in the courtyard garden.
"Hey, Lexi. What's up? You seen the orders from the Captain of the Watch?"
"Nah, haven't seen 'em yet, Silla." Lexi sighed and shook her head.
"Well, we have to clear out the garden from the servants and staff. Something has to be done about an important meeting happening in the Ars's Courtyard. Bunch of high-ranking demons are involved, apparently."
Charlie's ears perked up at the mention of an important meeting in the Ars's Courtyard. It seemed she was on the right track.
"Really? That must be some serious business. Wonder what it's about." Sam's eyes widened.
"I don't know, and honestly, I don't care," Lexi replied nonchalantly. "You know how the electorate is. I still remember how once Kimaris tried to undermine Ars Bael."
"Oh, shit, really? What happened?"
"What do you think? Bael snapped his neck with runic power. Just that, a snap sound, and Kimaris dropped dead. Poor bird, those days were different."
"Oh, yeah. Bael would not bother with the whole trial of these two idiots."
"True, and speaking of Ars Bael. Now that his legions are disbanding and relocating to the reserves. Where are you planning to serve now?"
"I dunno, maybe Astaroth, but with him, you get into the heat of action, especially with what is going on in Limbo. Why do you ask?"
"Heard Marquis Phenex talked around recently. There might be new openings in the 36th Legion, if you want."
"Under Stolas? But why?"
"Assuming how the trial will go, you and I both know more and more that the younglings inherit the positions. We have Gaap and the other chick. Plus there is a hybrid of Hellhound and Goetia...what was his name?"
"Ah, you mean Marchosias? He is a charming young lad; it's really a shame because of his Hellhound part, though."
"Why?"
"Come on, he got lucky. His mother was some stray dog that spread her legs for Earl Marbas. The Great Elector Phenex took some pity and named him The Marquis of Goetia. But the rest of the electorate don't want that abomination in their ranks, so they sent him to border the Limbo."
"Man, that's fucked up. I can't imagine defending the castle from constant attacks from raiders or, Spirits help me, the insurgency forces."
"Nothing here will help me." Charlie whispered, seeing that there was nothing valuable in this conversation.
As the guards continued their conversation, Charlie carefully moved through the hedges, staying low and using the available cover to her advantage. She circled around the courtyard, seeking an opportunity to approach Ars's courtyard from a different angle.
Finally, she spotted a narrow gap between two buildings that led to a hidden path. It seemed less guarded compared to the main entrance. Charlie took a deep breath and made her way through the gap, staying close to the walls to minimize the chance of being seen.
The path was dimly lit, with shadows providing some cover as Charlie cautiously moved forward. She quickened her pace, careful to avoid any creaking floorboards or loose stones that could give away her presence. She reached the edge of the courtyard and peered around the corner, trying to get a glimpse of the gathering.
Charlie's eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a backyard gazebo in the distance. It seemed to be a secluded area, away from the main gathering. This could be her opportunity to get closer and potentially eavesdrop on the meeting without being detected.
With careful steps, Charlie made her way towards the gazebo closer, using the shadows and foliage as cover. She could hear muffled voices growing louder as she approached, indicating that she was getting closer to the source of the meeting...or someone was approaching her.
As she reached the gazebo, there was a single female Goetian maid, busy preparing the table for the guests. The table was completely covered and slightly bigger, as Goetias are very tall demons...wait. This presented a golden opportunity for her to get closer without arousing suspicion.
"That's my ticket."
Taking advantage of the maid's busy preparations, Charlie stealthily moved towards the inside of the gazebo, staying low and hidden. She carefully positioned herself behind a large decorative plant, ensuring that she remained concealed from the maid's view. From her vantage point, Charlie observed the maid's movements and timing. She waited for the perfect moment when the maid would be occupied with arranging the table and momentarily distracted from the surroundings.
As the maid turned her back, busy washing the wine bottles, Charlie seized the opportunity. Swiftly and silently, she moved from her hiding spot...
*Creak*
Panicking, Charlie quickly took cover under the table, with a curtain that shielded her from view. The Goetian maid turned around, a look of confusion crossed her face.
"Is someone there?" She glanced around the gazebo, trying to discern the source of the sound that had caught her attention. Charlie held her breath, praying that her hiding spot would keep her concealed.
The maid's eyes swept over the area, her gaze lingering on the curtain behind which Charlie was hiding. For a moment, it seemed as if the maid's suspicion had been aroused. Charlie's heart raced, fearing that her cover had been compromised.
"You're worrying too much, Papa."
The Goetian maid immediately panicked as the guests of honor arrived. She quickly wiped down all the wine bottles as fast as she could and laid them on the table, even if they were not cleaned to perfection. With everything done, she just fixed her pose, hands behind her back.
"Oh, thank Devil." Charlie released a silent sigh of relief, grateful that her hiding spot had gone unnoticed. Wiping the sweat, she carefully moved the curtain slightly to peek out from the table.
"I'm not stupid, Andre. I know Paimon is planning something. That fucking pleb didn't even bother to come here." Andras's voice could be heard before Charlie saw their presence with her own eyes.
Charlie stopped peeking and quickly adjusted her seating stance and grabbed her audio recorder...let's hope it will work.
Both Andras as usual, walked stoically, hands behind his back, while Andrephallus followed his father like a dog to an owner.
"And that's why you're the best, Papa. Even despite what our beloved Stella did to you, your fatherly love decided to at least visit her trial."
"Don't patronize me, Andre." The old swan growled. Andras's voice carried a tone of suspicion and resentment, evident in his words. He was not easily swayed by Andrealphus’ attempts to flatter him, recognizing the ulterior motives behind his son's actions.
"Just stating the truth, dear Papa. But I promise you that you will get a special prize by the end of the trial. I made sure all of it would work in our favor."
"I'm still not convinced by your trick on Stella, Andre. As much as she failed me, she is still a valuable asset to House Andras-Phenexia."
"Oh, please. The only one who was interested in her was Duke Focalor."
"Still a valuable alliance-marriage, Andre." Andras pointed it out.
"Yeah, well..." Andrealphus searched for excuses. "Focalor will get tired of her..."
"I know Focalor very well that Stella will suit him just fine...considering he loves bad girls." Andras sighed.
"Ah, so he is one of those who loves to fuck bad ones." Andrealphus mischievously grinned. "Hmm, charming; it looks like me and Focalor can get along. I, for one, want to fuck Stolas up so much."
"You mean to fight him, right?" Andras stopped in his walk, looking at him directly.
"Well..." Andrealphus nervously stammered as his smirk completely disappeared, a huge sign that he was getting worried.
"You do mean to fight him, son?" Andras suspiciously narrowed his eyes.
Again, the Ice Marquis sweated in front of his dad. "Well...yeah...right, papa?"
"So you say, my 'fabulous' son..." Andras gave a long, menacing death stare at his son. Andras's piercing gaze bore into his son, his suspicions growing evident. The tension in the air was palpable as Andrealphus stammered and struggled to find an adequate response. It was clear that his initial bravado had faltered in the face of his father's scrutiny.
The old swan's expression hardened, his disappointment evident. He took a step closer to Andrealphus, their proximity heightening the intensity of the moment, before directing his attention to the...dinner table.
"What's this?"
"Your food, sire." Maid bowed his head.
"...I didn't order any food." Andras stated suspiciously.
"The client wanted you to enjoy these delicacies, your Majesty Andras."
"Hmm..." Andrealphus moved closer to the maid; he looked her up and down before bringing his slender finger at the maid's beak, bopping her. "And what are you, my lovely cutie-pie, a dessert by chance?"
"No, my lord. I'm not on the menu." Maid blushed at this comment.
"Are you sure about that? Maybe you could ditch those clothes and get yourself on the table for me. I wonder how tasteful you're."
"ANDRE!" Andras's voice boomed, his eyes blazing with anger. "As Marquis, you will not speak in such a degrading manner!"
"Alright, alright!" Andrealphus took a step back, showing his palms. "She is just a cute one, dad."
Andras's stern gaze lingered on his son for a moment longer, the weight of disappointment evident in his expression. He then turned his attention to the maid, who still stood frozen in place, visibly shaken by the exchange.
"Get out of here."
"Yes, my lord." The maid bowed to her and quickly departed, much to Andre's annoyance.
"Oh, come on, papa! You can't just cockblock your own son!"
"Grow a spine, Andre." Andras sighed, getting tired of this crap. "My sister was right; Goetia is nothing but horny birds these days...I would trade everything for the days of Ars Belial."
"What a boomer mentality, Lord Andras!"
Both Andras and Andrealphus turned their attention to another visitor, and Charlie had to carefully peek out to see who it was...and it was Gaap.
The plot thickens.
"Fancy to see the nearly entire House of Andras-Phenexia here...well aside from the female part, that is." Gaap chuckled, high with power as per usual.
Andras looked at his son, to which Andre simply shrugged. Neither of them has a clue as to what is going on. But Andras is not stupid enough to see that Gaap wants something.
"What do you want, kid?"
"How about some food first, my lord. At your age, you must take it carefully."
"I would rather drink bleach than eat any food from House Paimon." Andras hissed.
"Well, I do!" Andrealphus eagerly rubbed his hands and sat down to taste the soup...free food after all.
Marquis Andras just crossed his arms and waited for his son to drop dead. But no matter how much Andre ate of the soup, there was no sign that he was dying or choking or something.
"See...I come in peace, Lord Andras." Gaap smirked.
Andras's suspicion grew as he watched Andrealphus devour the soup without any adverse effects. The fact that Gaap had brought food, raised even more questions. Andras remained cautious, his guard still up.
"Very well then..." Andras, without breaking the stare, took a seat at the table. Gaap would also join them. Charlie had to avoid bumping their legs by accident. But so far, so good.
In the midst of the awkward silence, Gaap seemed unfazed by Andras's intense gaze. Instead, he maintained a confident and somewhat amused expression. Andrealphus, on the other hand, appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the food.
"You know, Lord Andras." Finally, Gaap broke the silence, his voice dripping with amusement. "Your hostility is quite entertaining. But I assure you, I come bearing no ill intentions."
"Kid, I was a dominion of Heaven. I rebelled against my own father, and I conquered the wretched rump states of Hellhound hordes. Who do you think you are, treating me like an idiot?"
"Like I said, you're stuck in the past, Andras. It's been ages since Ars Bael made Paimon king while you weren't...I think at this point you have to let it go." Gaap leaned back in his chair, his demeanor relaxed. "Times are changing, you know. The old rivalries and animosities can be set aside for a greater purpose in the name of Ars Goetia. You see, Andras. Like you, my grandfather was...very disappointed with what happened with his son, Stolas. Breaking my granddaddy's heart like that...it hurts, you know."
"Hmm, I like him already." Andrealphus mischievously smirked.
"You're not bad yourself, Andre. You did pretty good by hiding your involvement with Stella's assassination attempt." Gaap smirked.
"Ahh, someone dug around, I see." Andrealphus chuckled. It was a good attempt by Gaap to grab him by the balls.
"Let's not be dishonest with ourselves. Both our houses played their own part in the whole thing. But as Stolas and Stella are done today, I think there is a time for us to make our next moves."
"Which is?" Andras was again distrustful.
"Lord Andras..." Gaap began with a sigh. "Everyone knows my grandfather Paimon will become the new Ars of Goetia."
"Bold of you to assume even if syncretism isn't finished." Andras snarled.
"And who else, then? Beleth? Oh, please, he will turn the entire Ars Goetia into a pile of orgies, thus a puppet to Asmodeus. Purson? He is incompetent, the same with Balam." Gaap's smirk grew wider, clearly relishing in the tension that filled their presence. "The point is that House Paimon sees an opportunity for a new era of power and influence within the Ars Goetia."
"And what makes you think House Andras-Phenexia would align itself with House Paimon?" Andras's expression remained stoic, his distrust still evident. "Knowing your types, you do have an offer of a deal. If so, let me hear it." Andras questioned, his gaze piercing.
Gaap leaned forward, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "An offer, Andras. Since Ars Bael's electorate will be disbanded as Paimon ascends, He will have to create a new one; there is already a clear goal to have Vassago remain as Prince-Elector. But do you know who shall take the College of Marquisate?"
"Someone who is willing to spread his ass-cheeks to Ars."
"Ha, true! which is why Paimon wants you to become the new Elector-Marquis under him. Think about it, Andras."
"What's the catch, young kid?" Marquis Andras sinisterly chuckled at that, surprising his own son. He expected him to take it immediately.
Gaap's smirk faded slightly as he leaned forward from his chair.
"Your granddaughter, Octavia, is the catch."
Charlie nearly gasped but managed to block her mouth from making any sound. The mention of Octavia being involved in the proposition added another layer of complexity to the situation...and somehow it always seemed that Octavia was the center of this whole feud.
Andras's expression hardened as he processed Gaap's words, his gaze narrowing.
"What do you want Octavia for? Marry her?" Andras's voice held a mix of concern and guardedness.
"Bold of you to assume that I will touch that goth bitch even with a pole, Lord Andras." Gaap laughed at that, enjoying the joke. "Paimon just wants Octavia to be his grandchild in his house. Hence the proposition I make to you: renounce your claim on Octavia from your house, and Lord Paimon will award you with the title of Elector-Marquis."
Andras's left hand clenched tightly, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. The audacity of Gaap's proposal, suggesting that Andras should renounce his claim on Octavia, his own granddaughter, was a direct challenge to his authority.
"Have you wondered why I let my Stella be married?"
"Please, enlighten me, O mighty Andras." Gaap mockingly chuckled.
"Once, Paimon promised me a lot if I let my own child be married to his faggotry son. And guess what I received instead? A fucking feud, every news that my child's own husband fucked around with plebeians! Do you think I was born yesterday, Gaap? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO DICTATE TO ME, MARQUIS ANDRAS OF HOUSE ANDRAS-PHENEXIA, WITH TERMS, YOU PAIMONIAN SCUM!? OCTAVIA IS MY HEIR, NOT HIS!"
"...Is that a no?" Gaap remained calm.
"NOT IN A MILLION YEARS!" Andras once again screamed. His voice reverberated through the room, filled with a fiery determination that sent chills down the spines of those present.
"Papa, chill out." Even Andre saw that his dad went too far.
"You will 'chill out' in your mother's grave if you won't shut up right now, Andre!" Andras threatened him.
Gaap again didn't give a fuck about Andras' tantrum. Instead, he would stand up.
"Such a shame it came to this. But I can't say I'm surprised. Now, gentlemen, I was hoping we could have a pleasant talk together with Count Morax. So please don't mind my business with Elector, for now."
And just in time, the Count-Elector of the Electorate, Morax, would arrive, wondering what the commotion is.
"What's with the screaming, my fellow Goetias?"
"Ah, you know how it is. Someone didn't graduate from their kindergarten, My Elector." Gaap joked, much to Andras' growl. But the young chick focused his full attention on the count. "So, Morax. Can House Paimon rely on you?"
"Depends... do you have what you promised?"
Gaap, without any protest, raised his hand before a golden ingot appeared on his hand. And here, Gaap showed the common trait of Ars Goetia.
Corruption.
"Buy something nice for yourself with Paimon's treasury, will you?" Gaap handed the golden ingot to Morax.
Count Morax's eyes gleamed with greed, satisfied by the gold. He weighed it in his palm, relishing the feeling of the wealth that now belonged to him. Andras watched the exchange with disdain, his anger simmering beneath the surface. The corruption and self-serving nature of some Goetias were clear to him, and it only strengthened his resolve to stand against House Paimon.
"Well, well, well...it seems House Paimon can always rely on its allies," Morax replied, a smug smile playing on his lips. "So, what do you want to know?"
"Tell me. What's the situation with the electorate?"
"Well, so far, the evidence on Stella as an instigator is clear. For Stolas, it's already been declared that he's a "traitor" to House Paimon. Though we still have appeasers in our ranks like Vassago and Phenex, the electorate has decided on the two solutions. Either send them for execution or let them go completely."
"And who votes on what?"
"Phenex and Vassago are for letting them go. Astaroth and Marbas are for the executions. So 2 against 2."
"And you?" Gaap raised his eyebrow.
"That's classified, you see..." Here, Morax silenced him for a moment, scratching his beak.
"In that case, how about you take another ingot...we're all friends here."
And again, Gaap summoned an ingot and offered it to Morax. The Count-Elector didn't grab it at first...but Mammon's sins were stronger in him; hence, he just decided to grab it and honor the agreement...it totally won't hurt anybody.
"I have to agree with Vassago and Phenex, young Gaap. As much as I see that Ars Goetia's image suffered with their feud. Execution is not needed for Stella and Stolas; I, for one, believe in more fair punishment."
"Would another ingot make you change your mind?"
"No, I'm afraid the bribery ends here."
"Oh, really? If you're so noble about it, then how come you're quite an imp fucker like my uncle Stolas is, Morax?" Gaap found it more amusing. He again raised his hand to summon a document before revealing a picture. "Recognize it,?"
The picture that Gaap held was of Morax and some female imp in her twenties straddling Count-Elector on the bed. Obviously, both are naked.
"You mongrel mutt lover!" Count Morax exclaimed. "How did you get those pictures?!"
"They say that the Frumentarii unit of Satan's Legion is everywhere, spying in the name of our Lord of Wrath. That's why I love Crimson Knolastname; that imp can do wonders, which is not surprising, is it? His own mother was a legendary Legatus who crushed the greatest Hellhound rebellion in the town of Furiosa."
"So, you employ the Wrath's Legionnaires to do your dirty work?" Count Morax hissed.
"Of course. They're Satan's finest, after all..." Gaap chuckled. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Count Morax grumbled to himself. Gaap managed to deeply wound him here. If these pictures are leaked, his career as an elector would come to an end.
"And what do you want in exchange for keeping these pictures hidden?" Morax asked, his voice laced with desperation.
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." Gaap grinned more. "It's quite simple, vote for execution on Stella and Stolas and these pictures won't be leaked. Lord Paimon will later award you for the loyalty you will show."
Count Morax's face contorted with a mixture of anger, fear, and frustration. The weight of the situation was heavy upon him as he contemplated his next move. He knew that going against Gaap's proposition would likely result in the exposure of the incriminating pictures and the end of his political career.
"You... you truly are ruthless," Morax muttered, his voice filled with resignation. "Fine, I will vote for the execution of Stella and Stolas. Just ensure that those pictures never see the light of day."
"A wise decision, Count Morax." Gaap's grin widened, satisfaction evident in his eyes. "You have chosen wisely to prioritize your own interests. Rest assured, the pictures shall remain hidden as long as you fulfill your end of the bargain."
Morax nodded, his shoulders slumping with defeat. He had become entangled in a web of manipulation and deceit, forced to make choices that went against his own principles. But in the cutthroat world of Ars Goetian politics, survival often depended on such compromises.
"As for Lord Paimon's reward," Gaap continued. "Rest assured that your loyalty and support will not go unnoticed. His gratitude will be extended to you in due time."
"Yeah, yeah." Count Morax didn't believe in that bullshit and just walked away; soon the electorate will gather it up for the final verdict.
Andras watched as Count Morax walked away, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He knew that Gaap's manipulation had swayed the Count-Elector, and the outcome of the upcoming vote seemed all but certain. While Morax may have chosen to prioritize his own interests, Andras couldn't help but feel a deep sense of betrayal.
"Even my own sister, Phenex, would not stand so low as to be bribed by the likes of you."
"Then she is an obstacle to House Paimon, just like the rest of your House. Have a good day."
Andras clenched his fists tightly, his rage boiling within him. Gaap's dismissive tone and lack of regard for the consequences of his actions only fueled Andras' hatred...no honor whatsoever. But the young adult had already left them, walking away as if he wasn't threatening Andras at all.
"Well...I can say he will have a bright future in Ars Goetia." Andrealphus commented, already finished with the soup.
"...Andrealphus?"
"Yeah, Papa?"
"Shut-your-FUCKING BEAK!"
Andrealphus just shrugged, taking a drink in the meantime. The tense atmosphere lingered as Andras and Andrealphus sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Andras couldn't shake off the feeling of anger, while Andrealphus seemed unperturbed by the events that had just unfolded.
And Charlie got it all.
Even as Gaap and Andras argued above. Charlie had been secretly recording the entire conversation between Gaap, Count Morax, Andras, and Andrealphus. She knew that the evidence she had captured could potentially expose Gaap's manipulations and bring justice. She stopped the audio recorder and sighed in relief...all that is left is to blackmail Andras and get everything to Phenex.
*Ting*
Or not...
"What was that noise?!" Andras exclaimed, getting up from his chair and gripping his sword hilt. Andre didn't even bother with that.
"Oh, crap." Charlie whispered as she grabbed her phone to check what was going on.
[New Message]
@hotel_magnement: "Hey, sweetie. How is it going on with Goetia? Even Angel is getting worried :/"
Not a great time for Vaggie to send a message
"Show yourself!" Marquis Andras demanded as he looked around before noticing the table. WIth no warning and much to peacock's surprise, his father flipped the table, sending the food and expensive dishes crashing down.
"DAD, WHAT THE FU-huh?" Andrealphus stopped himself as he looked down to see...her majesty is sitting on her knees.
"Um...hello?" Charlie awkwardly waved her hand.
"..."" Andras and Andrealphus stared at Charlie, a mix of confusion and surprise on their faces. The unexpected sight of her sitting on the floor only added to the bewildering situation. But Andras will say the way he knows.
"What in the name of all Spirits of Lemegeton is going on!!?"
"Dad, she has the voice recorder!" Andre saw her holding that.
"WHAT!?" Andras was even more baffled by this. Charlie immediately got on her feet and hid her voice recorder behind her back, preventing them both from taking it. "We have been very loyal vassals to Lucifer, and this is how he treats us: by making his heir spy on us!?"
"Hand over the recorder, your majesty." Andrealphus demanded, his voice firm even if it showed genuine fear of Princess.
"Not so fast!" Charlie's eyes darted between Andras and Andrealphus. She knew she had crossed a line by recording their conversation without their knowledge or consent...but she wasn't left with a choice. "First things first, put your swords and grimoires on the ground."
Andras and Andrealphus exchanged wary glances, their hands reluctantly moving to the hilts of their swords. Andras unbuckled his sword and placed it on the ground, followed by his grimoire. Andrealphus followed suit, placing his own weapons beside his father'.
"Just be honest with me. Are you on behalf of Paimon?" Andras hissed.
Charlie grabbed Andras' sword and aimed it at them. "No, I'm here for Octavia's sake. Goetias like you are trying to kill off her parents!"
"That's a Devildamm lie! All I want is for Octavia to be in MY HOUSE! I don't care what happens to Stella or Stolas. Exile them to treachery or not, it doesn't matter to me!"
"You may not care about Stella or Stolas, but Octavia does." Charlie's grip on the sword tightened, determined. "I won't let you manipulate Octavia or use her as a pawn in your own game!"
"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Andras' face twisted with anger, hating this false narrative. "Octavia belongs with us, in House Andras-Phenexia. It's a future she deserves to be! There is no place for rejection. It's a worse fate to be a houseless Goetia!"
"It's not for you or anyone else to dictate what she should want or where she should belong." Charlie's gaze hardened; her voice was firm. "Octavia deserves the freedom to make her own choices, to decide her own fate, her own future."
"You speak of freedom, but you're the one holding a sword to our throats. How is that any different?" Andras scoffed dismissively.
"Because I'm the Princess of Hell and you're just some Marquis of Goetia." Charlie warned...like father used to say, she didn't take any shit from Andras. "And as your Princess, I want you and your son to stop your plans for Octavia and her parents and to drop your claim on Octavia."
"Are you blackmailing us?"
"Yes, in fact, I do. I saw how you all operate today, through corruption and bribery. And I'm here to make things right!"
Andras' anger turned into a begrudging respect as he looked at Charlie. It was clear to him. She was not someone to be underestimated. He exchanged a glance with Andrealphus, who remained silent but seemed to be considering the situation carefully. Finally, the decision will be made.
"Andre, paper, and pen." Andras spoke, his voice begrudging.
"But dad, you can't just throw away everything I worked for! Stella-"
"Paper-and-pen... now !" Andras showed he wouldn't take it the second time.
Andre reluctantly complied, summoning a piece of paper and a pen. He handed them to his father, who took them. Andras began to write, his hand firm and steady. After a few moments, he finished and handed the paper to Charlie.
"Here, I hope you're happy, your majesty!"
By the Will of House Andras-Phenexia
I, Great Marquis Goetia: 63 rd Spirit, hereby revoke my claim on Princess Octavia Goetia for admission into House-Andras Phenexia.
"Very well," Charlie said, her voice softer now. "Thank you for your cooperation, Lord Andras. As for you, Andrealphus, you're coming with me."
"But-"
"Do as she says." Andras commanded.
"...Yes, papa."
Charlie nodded, satisfied with Andras' obedience. She knew it was a significant step towards ensuring Octavia's well-being. Turning her attention to Andrealphus, she motioned for him to follow her. And trouble was already on the horizon. The princess of Hell barely made some steps as a couple of Goetian Legionnaires arrived and made their presence known; each one gripped his sword hilt.
"Your friends, your majesty?" Andrealphus presumed with sarcasm.
"No, not by a mile." Charlie was too confused. "Who are you, Legionaries?"
The Legionaries just unsheathed their swords.
"You fuck with House Paimon, you fuck with his legion!"
The same Legionnaire then aimed his flintlock pistol at Andrealphus. Charlie acted swiftly, pushing him out of harm's way. The sound of a gunshot echoed through the air as the bullet narrowly missed its intended target and managed to hit Andras instead.
"Gah!" Andras screamed as the impact of the shot managed to get him on his knees. Andras clutched his injured side, his face contorting with pain. Blood flowed from the gunshot wound, staining his noble clothing and the ground beneath him.
"Lord Andras!" Charlie was worried. But in the tense aftermath of the gunshot, Charlie's focus shifted from the injured Andras to the imminent threat of the Legionnaires. She knew they couldn't afford to let their guard down, even for a moment. The room became a battleground, with adrenaline coursing through Charlie's veins.
Drawing upon her royal heritage and her own formidable powers, Charlie summoned her demonic energy. Her eyes flickered with her iconic red eyes, and horns grew out of her head. She stepped forward, ready to face the Legionnaires head-on.
"Help your majesty, you idiot!" Andras demanded that his son switch priorities.
"Alright, alright...calm down, Dad!" Andrealphus complained. He nevertheless stood by Charlie's side, his sword raised in a defensive stance.
The Legionnaires, fueled by their loyalty to House Paimon and their desire for revenge for their Count, charged forward with aggressive determination. Swords clashed against swords, creating a cacophony of metallic clashes and sparks that filled the air. Charlie moved with grace and precision, parrying each strike and countering with calculated strikes of her own.
Her movements were swift and agile, as if guided by an otherworldly force. She unleashed bursts of demonic flames, scorching the air and forcing the Legionnaires to retreat momentarily. In the chaos of battle, Charlie's demonic heritage shone through, giving her an edge that surprised her opponents.
Both Cain and Lucifer taught her well.
But so was Ars Goetia, as the Legionnaires were no ordinary fighters. They were skilled and disciplined, their training evident in their coordinated attacks. They regrouped quickly, closing in on Charlie and Andrealphus with renewed determination.
Undeterred by the Legionnaires' relentless assault, Charlie and Andrealphus remained steadfast. They moved in perfect synchrony, their swords becoming an impenetrable barrier against the Legionnaires' onslaught. Charlie's eyes glowed with intense determination as she tapped into her demonic powers, augmenting her physical prowess.
With a swift and fluid motion, Charlie spun, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick that sent one of the Legionnaires flying backward. Andrealphus seized the opportunity, launching a precise strike that disarmed another Legionnaire, sending his sword clattering to the ground, before a strong stab right into armored plate finished him off.
The remaining Legionnaires, undeterred by their fallen comrades, pressed on with increased ferocity. They aimed to overpower Charlie and Andrealphus through sheer numbers and unrelenting aggression. But the duo fought back with unwavering resolve and an unyielding spirit.
Seizing the momentary lull, Charlie and Andrealphus launched a coordinated counterattack. Their swords became a blur of steel, parrying and striking with precision and deadly intent. The Legionnaires found themselves on the defensive, struggling to match the skill and speed of their adversaries.
The tide of the battle began to turn in Charlie and Andrealphus' favor. The Legionnaires, battered and overwhelmed, found themselves gradually pushed back, their ranks thinning as Charlie and Andrealphus pressed their advantage. One by one, the Legionnaires fell to the ground, killed by the Marquis or Charlie.
Finally, only silence remained, broken only by the heavy breathing of Charlie and Andrealphus. The courtyard littered with fallen Legionnaires and signs of the fierce struggle that had taken place.
Charlie walked up to one of the fallen Legionaries, just to be sure they did belong to Morax. At this point, more and more, she is getting sick of Ars Goetian meddling. Rarely has Charlie been so agitated by anger.
Maybe Leviathan had a point...
...
Andras' grunt broke Charlie's thoughts. She immediately went up to check on him.
"How bad is it?" She asked, trying to check the wound by herself, but Andras showed his palm.
"It takes more than that to kill a great marquis, your majesty." Andras grunted but still managed to get himself on his feet. "My sword, please."
Charlie gave him a sword, which he accepted with a nod. Andras tested his weight on the sword, despite the pain from his injury....tough bird.
"Andras, with that wound of yours, You should get out of here." Charlie urged, her concern evident in her voice. "Get yourself safely to your castle. I still need Andrealphus."
"Just promise you will ruin House Paimon's plans on Octavia, and there won't be any long grudges from me, your majesty."
"I promise."
"But dad, she -" Andrealphus wanted to complain.
"Show some respect to your future queen, Andre. Your fighting skills are sloppy while her majesty shows how a true Goetia fights today." Andras' words silenced Andre, his expression shifting from defiance to a begrudging acknowledgment. He cast a respectful glance towards Charlie, recognizing her prowess in battle. But Charlie returned the nod, also acknowledging the respect in return...and saying goodbye to Andras.
Using his grimoire, Andras teleported himself away from his presence, leaving Charlie and Andre alone with dead bodies.
"So..." Andre nervously started. "I guess I should thank you for saving my father, your majesty....but can I go now?"
Instead of her usual kind answer, Charlie aimed her flintlock pistol at him. Her eyes narrowed as she kept them focused on Andre. Her anger and frustration fueled her actions.
"You think you can just walk away after all that's happened?" Charlie's voice was sharp and filled with disappointment. "You were part of the scheme, Andre. You were willing to betray your own sister..."
"Well, I..." Andre's face paled, realizing the gravity of the situation. He stammered, trying to find the words to defend himself. "I-I tried to help Octavia, you know..."
"So you say..." Charlie didn't buy his bullshit; her grip on the pistol tightened, and anger was still simmering beneath the surface. She wanted to believe Andre, but she lost all of her will to be reasonable at this point....Ars Goetian showed it's colors today.
"Well...how much do you want, your majesty?" Typical of the Ars Goetian demon, Andre offered a bribe.
"Not a single penny in your pocket." Charlie motioned for Andre to walk ahead of her, her pistol still pointed at his back. "To the chamber... NOW !"
Out of fear for what Charlie can do to him. Andre complied and began to move forward, his hands still raised in surrender. He kept walking fast as Charlie pressured him to move fast. She couldn't let him out of her sight, not until he faced the consequences of his betrayal towards his own sister.
But finally...the long day is about to end.
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/Lemegeton/The Castle of Ars Bael/The "House of Commons"
*Tick-Tock*
*Tick-Tock*
As the seconds ticked away, the sound of the clock above the chamber echoed through Octavia's mind, intensifying her sense of desperation. Each tick and tock seemed to resonate with her own inner turmoil, a reminder of the situation she found herself in.
...
And now Charlie has abandoned her....
She was left alone in this cruel, cruel, cruel Hell.
And as the electorate is returning for the final judgment, Octavia, sniffing, was busy with her final note.
Octavia's hands trembled as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. With tears streaming down her face, she unfolded it and took a shaky breath, summoning every ounce of strength she had left. She began to write, her penmanship reflecting the turmoil within her heart. The words flowed onto the paper, capturing her thoughts and her regrets. And at the end of the note, she wished for Loona to find the happiness and love she deserved and that Octavia would always be in Loona's heart, watching over her.
And that was Octavia's manifesto.
As Octavia finished writing her letter, she carefully folded the paper, holding it close to her heart.
Stella and Stolas stood once again on their tribune pews, their worry mirroring Octavia's own desperation. Their majesty wasn't here...and more and more, it seemed to be the end of her.
Stolas had his eyes closed, cherishing every moment he had with Octavia, with Blitz, with I.M.P...his life as Goetia wasn't good...humans once said, "It's not the end of the line that matters, it's the destination." And with these memories, Stolas found peace with himself and was ready to face Death herself to take him into the land of Void.
Stella clutched her hands and prayed. She venerated all the Apostates of Dis, Her Dark Lord, unhallowed by his name, for mercy on the child of darkness, but the Devil wasn't even here.
"Prince Stolas, Stella Goetia"
Both of them opened their eyes, ready to hear it. All the electorates, with Duke Agares as a "second" handler in this case, were all present.
"The electorate finds you both guilty of treason against Ars Goetia and our Ars."
"The Diet will commence voting on whether to free you or execute you."
And with that, Agares began. He handed the paper to Elector Vassago, who immediately wrote his vote. Agares grabbed that paper and announced Vassago's vote.
"Prince-Elector Vassago: One Vote for Freeing Them"
0 - 1
As the first vote was cast by Vassago, there was a brief moment of relief as it came out in their favor. A single vote for freeing them provided a glimmer of hope.
"Duke-Elector Astaroth: One for Execution"
1 - 1
And it plummets down once more to the hill...
"Marquise-Elector Phenex: One for Freeing Them"
1 - 2
Agares then moved to the other side of the table, handling the paper for Count Morax.
"I... need a few seconds, Agares." Count Morax nervously stammered.
"Very well." Agares simply gave the paper to Marbas instead. The President of Goetia immediately signed his vote and handed the paper to Agares.
"President-Elector Marbas: One for Execution"
2 - 2
And there it was...
One final vote.
"I'm with the Devil and the Devil is with me; I'm with the Devil and the Devil is with me; I'm with the Devil and the Devil is with me." Stella tried to pray, begging for the Dark Lord's mercy...just anything other than this.
And once more, Agares handed the paper to Count Morax. Morax again didn't immediately sign. He looked at Stella and Stolas, both desperate, and at Octavia, who was crying. It's such a shame it came to this, but it's often said, It's for the betterment of Ars Goetia. And with that, he grabbed his pen and brought the feather pen to sign the vote.
*Kickslam of the Doors*
"STOP THE VOTE!"
Count Morax dropped his pen by accident on the floor when he heard the command. The sudden interruption caused a stir among the electorate. All eyes turned towards the source of the voice that had halted the proceedings.
Standing at the entrance to the chamber, disheveled and breathless, was Charlie Morningstar with Andrealphus, arms in the air.
"C-Charlie!?" Octavia stuttered, not believing what she just saw.
"QUICK, SIGN THE VOTE!" Gaap immediately demanded.
Panicking, Count Morax tried to reach for the pen under his table. Without wasting a moment, Charlie dashed towards Count Morax, determined to stop the vote.
The guards in the chamber reacted swiftly, moving to intercept Charlie and prevent her from reaching Count Morax. They rushed towards her, attempting to restrain her and halt her progress. But Charlie's determination burned fiercely within her. She swiftly evaded the guards' grasp, using her agility and quick thinking to maneuver through the guards. With her eyes locked on Count Morax, she pushed herself forward, her heart pounding with urgency.
"Stop the vote!" Charlie shouted, her voice echoing through the chamber. "There is a conspiracy among the electorate!"
"Don't listen to her! Sign the Vote, Morax!" Gaap demanded.
"Enough!" Astaroth shouted, standing up from his chair. "What is the meaning of this?!"
"FUCK!" Gaap in screamed at himself...it was so close...but it was too late.
House Paimon lost this battle.
"Marquis Elector Phenex, here!" Charlie tossed the voice recorder at Phenex. Phoenix Demon with ease caught it in the air, immediately recognizing it. She could not be so proud of Stella to pull it through.
Pushing the button revealed everything for the electorate. From Andras and Andrealphus conversation to Gaap's scheming, so much secrecy has been shown to the electorate. Even Octavia was shocked by the recording. All that time. All that fighting...BECAUSE OF HER!?
But as soon as Count Morax's voice was heard on the recording, ...Morax lost all focus...and any reason.
"FUCK THIS!" Morax screamed at himself.
In a desperate move, Count Morax grabbed Marquis Phenex, who didn't have a chance to defend herself as she focused her attention on recording.
"AUNT!" Stella worriedly yelped. Even Andre summoned his sword and rushed to defend his and Stella's aunt.
"Nobody move!" Count Morax shouted, his voice filled with a mix of fear and desperation. "If anyone tries to stop me, I'll kill her!"
The guards in the chamber immediately halted in their tracks, unsure of how to proceed. The situation had escalated rapidly, and they were caught off guard by Count Morax's reckless act.
"Morax, think about what you're doing," Astaroth implored, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Any next act you commit will be seen as treason against Ars Goetia!"
"♪ And I have very powerful friends, Morax. ♪" Marquis Phenex remained surprisingly calm despite the dire circumstances. "♪ It would be unfortunate if a certain friend of mine had to visit you, hmm yes. ♪"
Morax's hand shakes in fear as he realizes he is losing ground. More and more guards, including Andrealphus, Charlie, and the rest of the electorate, try to surround him. And it has to be done here. Count Morax pushed Phenex away, making her fall to the floor with a loud thump. Morax immediately aimed his flintlock pistol at himself.
"I tried, Electorate...I tried...but she had such a nice butt..."
*BAM*
Morax's body fell to the floor, causing a lot of spectators to gasp in shock. Even Octavia was horrified by this, blocking her beak in shock; witnessing the suicide...just feels at home. Marquis Phenex slowly rose to her feet. She wiped her dress and adjusted her crown. She glanced at the lifeless body of Count Morax with no emotion...and good riddance.
"Every fucking time!" Astaroth complained. "First, with Ars Belial's death, we had a situation like this! And now it's happening again! What's next, the second collapse of Ars Goetia?"
"What's done is done, Astaroth. He was a traitor." Phenex sighed, not enjoying everything that just happened. "To the table, my fellow electorate."
Once more, the members of the Goetian electorate gathered up and sat down. There was a huge awkward silence as everyone was deep in thought. But Vassago would ultimately continue.
"First off, Andrealphus. Explain yourself on that recording."
Andrealphus again looked at the Princess of Hell, but with a simple, determined look, Charlie showed she wouldn't take bribes. Andre, at this point, had enough of Charlie, Stella, and EVERYONE Here...should have just read the porn magazine on that day than wasting his time with Stella.
"Alright, fine. It's me who handed the assassins' details to my sister Stella."
"Ah, so you're a conspirator as well." Vassago tisked at that. "Well, woopty-doo, Andrealphus of House Andras-Phenexia. You're under house arrest until a full investigation is commenced on your belongings."
And just like that, the guards put the magical runic handcuffs on Stella's brother and escorted him out of the chamber. Stella never felt so happy in her lifetime...to see her brother being humiliated, but her victory was short.
"And you, Stella. You're still found guilty of the assassination attempt on Stolas, not to mention Stolas himself being a traitor to House Paimon. But here we are, with a vote of 2-2...and with no way to handle this accordingly."
"You don't have to, Electorate." Charlie again stepped in; maybe this time she will listen to them. "Look at Octavia. You're trying to kill her parents. Is that what you really want? To have a Goetia who will, for the rest of your life, resent you and maybe even try to kill you all? Is that what you want for Octavia...to turn her into a monster?"
All eyes were set on Octavia, who had at this point stopped crying...she was even smiling a bit. Today, Charlie did so much for Octavia that she will be forever indebted to him for such kindness...
"I'm afraid we are in desperate times, your majesty." Vassago again sighed, just wanting to be straight with her. "We have a difficult position to keep Ars Goetia from crumbling by petty infighting...we have very powerful houses that want us to do their bidding...and they all want Stella and Stolas to be gone from Goetian politics."
"My electorate, perhaps there is room for compromise."
All eyes were set on Stolas as he let his voice be known. Even Stella raised an eyebrow, trying to read what Stolas was scheming right now.
"What is it, Stolas?"
Before saying Stolas had to make a deep inhale, a lot needs to be addressed.
"Vassago...I know I haven't been a good Prince, a good brother, a good son to Paimon...even a good father." He looked at Octavia as he muttered the last part...it still hurts. "The past can be such a dreadful thing, you know, either for one's then circumstances or a painfully nostalgic reminder of time once was. That is precisely why I prefer to look to the future...where the roads of all fate give us our path." Prince Stolas made another pause, clenching his talons...before looking at his brother directly in the eyes. "My Elector, if I will cooperate with the demands...do I have your honor to reduce Stella's sentence?"
"Dad?" Octavia whispered in confusion, trying to understand him.
"We cannot drop her out of the guilty verdict...but you have my word, Stolas." Vassago gave a slow nod. He never expected to see Stolas' other side. Even Stella didn't expect it...
Stolas nodded in acknowledgement of Vassago's response. His request had been heard, and now he had to fulfill his end of the bargain. The Prince of Goetia turned around to face the rest of Goetia...ready to end this once...
And for all.
"My fellow Goetias. Once I stood here in front of Ars Bael. I swore my allegiance as the 36th spirit of Ars Goetia. But now...the old bird's fight is over."
Making a short pause as gossiping intensified, Stolas reached for his crown and looked at it for the last time...this little guy has been sitting on his head for so many years....and now their adventure is over.
"Hereby, I, Prince Stolas Goetia of House Paimon,
"Revoke my status as a spirit and renounce my allegiance to the Ars and Electorate.
"For in Ars...there is Goetia."
...
This will go into the history archives of Ars Goetia.
Spectators and guests didn't waste their time gossiping; some wondered what that meant, and others thought it was a scheme. But Stolas knew it better...he made his way to Vassago to hand it over, thus finishing his obligation to Ars Goetia. Vassago accepted the crown from Stolas, his gaze fixed on his brother. He already saw how in pristine condition his crown was...which was nice of Stolas to take good care of it.
"You have made your decision...and I respect it, Stolas." Vassago spoke, his voice sincere. "I have to admit you made my usual routine quite interesting with your usual wave of controversies. For that, I appreciate your service to Ars Bael and to me as your Elector...go with peace, and may your future endeavors bring you strength and happiness."
"Thank you, Vassago...and my electorate. May you find strength in unity, and may the path ahead be one of growth and progress." Stolas bowed his head one final time. All of the electorate returned it in honor.
And here, Stolas left the tribune pew and walked once more...just a normal citizen of Ars Goetia. On his way, he made a glance at Octavia, who was still shocked by his decision. It was so...cathartic. But Stolas only smiled at her. Many claimed that they all did it for Octavia's sake today...most of them were lies and blatantly dishonest scams. But here...Stolas did just that for her.
"Despite the long fighting with Stella Goetia, Stolas showed mercy to her at the end...which now leaves only you, Stella." Vassago continued, as just scraps are left to be dealt. "Will you cooperate?"
Stella stood there, her emotions swirling within her. She had witnessed the events unfold, from the chaos in the chamber to Stolas's unexpected decision. It had all been a whirlwind, challenging her perceptions and preconceived notions about her Stolas...seeing Stolas like this was just...weird.
Stella had always been defiant, holding onto her resentment towards Stolas. But now, faced with his actions and the weight of the moment, she couldn't help but question...if she truly was wrong about him?
...
After a moment of contemplation, Stella took a deep breath and met Vassago's gaze.
"My Elector, I accept the evidence and declare myself to be the perpetuator of Stolas's assassination attempt. Everything that transpired on Stolas was on me, and I take full responsibility for it."
"Then...with a show of compassion. Stella Goetia, solitary confinement with no parole is your fate. Guards, arrest her."
"♪ I'm sorry, Stella. But that's the best you can get, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex was also added. It's a shame it came to this...but that's how the laws work.
"Yeah...I noticed." Stella sighed.
From the distance, Stolas expected her to run...but nothing happened. Instead, the guards simply surrounded her. She extended her hands to them, and one of the guards flickered his fingers to cast runic handcuffs. She was immediately escorted out of the tribune.
"Hold on a minute." Stolas interjected. "I want to talk with her."
The guards reluctantly stepped aside, allowing Stolas to approach Stella. He didn't show remorse to her as he crossed his arms.
"So tell me, Stella." Stolas began, mocking, of course. Stella didn't dignify him even by looking at her ex-husband. "Just that, huh? No screaming, no tauntroms...so out of character for you."
"And still you can't turn on your brains for once, Stolas. No wonder you were always seen as a liability. All the princes of Ars Goetia laughed at you while I mingled with them."
“Listening in on other Goetias' conversations?” He turned to look at her fully, his eyes narrowing. A trace of bitterness crept into his voice despite all his efforts to steady himself.
“Hardly. Princes of Ars Goetia are very predictable, Stolas.” Stella remained civil, dignified, and reciprocal.
“I thought you liked predictability; it seems as though you failed to get me killed many times. Now look who is paying for it.” He retorted. An argument threatened between them.
“You never wanted to talk about things, either.”
“Because it's never a talk with you. It's always a shouting match. And you refused to listen even once. I'm too tired of your games, Stella.”
“And yet you didn't mind embarrassing us with that little night nudge of yours every fucking month, not to mention corrupting our daughter with a bunch of plebeians?”
"Via made a friend thanks to that corruption you speak of."
"With a fucking Hellhound!" Stella again hissed. "She could have befriended another cute prince from another house. Instead, it's the Hellhound of all Demons!"
"For Spirit's sake, Stella. Octavia needed to get out of the house, and you know she's more than earned a little trip into town, even if it is full of the "lower classes," as you say. She doesn't mind. I never minded either. I don't see why you do.”
“We both know she will always go with you.”
"That's because you never cared for Octavia."
"Oh, you're fucking wrong, Stolas! Because unlike you, I saw how Octavia needs discipline. Me and my aunt wanted Octavia to be among the ranks of spirits. For her to command her legions, for her to be part of the electorate. Instead, you pushed her out of that future...but thankfully, you managed to get yourself to your senses at the end."
Stolas raised his eyebrow as he realized something.
"You and your Aunt Phenex plotted too, didn't you? Just like with Andras...with my own father. You too were a part of that conspiracy in Octavia's lineage?"
Stella's beak turns into a full smug grin; finally, Stolas sees the full picture.
"Took you long enough, my love."
Stolas' right eye twitched at the word "love"...that boiled his stomach.
"Do you really think I would allow my child to be a part of some House?" Stella continued, tisking at her ex-husband. "How foolish of you, Stolas. She will be far greater than that...and you, I, Phenex and even her majesty herself made that possible..."
Stolas's expression hardened, a mixture of anger and betrayal swirling within him. Stella's words confirmed his suspicions, unraveling a web of deceit and manipulation that had entangled his family.
"You used Octavia as a pawn in your schemes," Stolas seethed, his voice laced with resentment. "You and your Aunt Phenex, plotting behind my and Octavia’s back to shape her future according to your own desires."
"And that future will be in good hands, under Phenex's guidance." Stella's smug grin faltered slightly as Stolas's words hit their mark. "Octavia will benefit a lot. Nepotism is such a fine art of Ars Goetia."
"Clearly...with the likes of you." Stolas gave a sharp dagger to Stella as he turned his head back at the electorate. They were discussing something that he could not hear from here, but he can assume what it is all about. "And now it's her turn...."
"You worry too much. She isn't us...we may bicker, fight, and kill each other, but Octavia won't have these problems. But then again...there are some who will try to hurt her, Stolas. Once you asked me to cooperate for Octavia's sake; now I ask you to cooperate with me. Make sure she is prepared for anything...Gaap included."
"I always will... for Octavia. " Stolas noted his tone.
"Very good, Yeoman Stolas." Stella gave a slow nod, glad that he understood.
There was an awkward silence between them until Stolas decided to let it out, choosing his words carefully.
“Despite everything you’ve done to me since the start of our marriage and everything you did to our daughter, I never wished to see you die.”
Stella’s carefully crafted mask faltered a little bit as she heard his words.
“This thought formed in my mind these past 5 years. And in the end, I came to realize that my life, and that of Octavia, would not be any happier with us seeing your lifeless body. It truly would not give me any satisfaction. All I ever wanted was for you to just stop hurting me and Via.”
Stella didn't know what to say. Her eyes tried to read her ex-husband’s face, only for her to see nothing but the truest sincerity. After taking a second to compose herself, she addressed him one last time, maybe the closest she ever came to “kindness” she ever gave him.
“Then allow me to grant you that request.”
She then offered her hand as a sign of peace to bury all of that once and for all. Stolas obviously hesitated, as some wounds run so deep that you can't heal them. But at the same time, he is technically free from everything, including her. But for the good of all and pragmatism...it was time to let go and move on.
Stolas accepted her hand and gave a hard shake once, giving one final nod. His ex-wife returned it, wishing him all success with Octavia in silence. Stolas and Stella's hands separated after the firm shake, marking the end of a tumultuous chapter in their lives... all thanks to Charlie's intervention.
"Guards, I'm done with her."
And with that, the guards grabbed her arms and escorted Stella out...and into the Dungeons of Lemegeton she goes. It was doubtful that he would see her ever again...but it didn't matter, as Stolas had a new focus:
Octavia.
Usually, as the trial is ended, most of the spectators will leave...but there was one important tie let loose.
"So that makes it what? No houses can claim it?" Astaroth presumed, checking the paper that Charlie gave while Stolas and Stella were discussing.
"♪ Correct, the hereditary royalty prevents it if that's the case, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex explained.
"Which leaves us with no choice." Vassago sighed, figuring as much. Hence, there needs to be a serious conversation.
"Octavia, to the tribune."
Octavia, who had been observing the proceedings silently from a corner of the chamber, now stood up from her chair as her name was called. Her eyes flickered with confusion as she made her way to the tribune, where the remaining members of the electorate awaited her.
Stolas watched his daughter's every step, a mix of pride swelling within him. He lived to see that day...and it finally arrived. He knew that the path ahead would be challenging for Octavia, but he was determined to equip her with the knowledge and strength to navigate it.
Charlie and Octavia exchanged smiles, Charlie's happy one and Octavia's for everything she had done to her. She reached the tribune, tall and composed, her gaze meeting the eyes of the electorate. Astaroth, Phenex, and Vassago regarded her with silence, but there was genuine pride in them.
"First off, remove that ridiculous beanie of yours. You're not a child anymore." Astaroth scowled at her for that.
"That's my favorite bennie, Uncle." Octavia protested.
"♪ Via. ♪" Phenex sang, gently asking her to not be like her mother. "♪ Your hair is perfect. Please. Don't be afraid. ♪"
Sighing, Octavia removed her beanie, revealing her long and beautiful feathers for hair. Her hair is a bit messy, but Phenex finds them appealing and cute for her great-niece's looks. But that's not important right now.
"Thank you. Now tell me, Octavia. What's the future you see for yourself?" Vassago inquired.
"Probably eat a mouse and draw a fanart..." Octavia shrugged at the end...what else should she say?
"Straight to the point, then." Prince-Elector Vassago sighed....looks like he needs to handle it the other way. "I assume you remember your status as precautionary heir to House Paimon, right? Since your father renounced and revoked his position as 36 th Spirit. There is a big problem now. Usually, the succession occurs when the previous Goetia dies, either of old age or untimely death. If that had been the case, you would have had no problem, Octavia. But instead, by the laws of Ars Goetia, as your dad never died, you cannot inherit all your assets from your father."
"Not to mention that Andras himself renounced your claim through your maternal part, Octavia. Thus, House Andras-Phenexia no longer can take you" Astaroth added, wanting to state the important factor. "Without all of these factors, it means one thing: you will lose your royal status. All your possessions will be distributed. Your mansion will be transferred to the electorate. So in short, you won't get anything."
Well, that soured the mood. Not only did the electorate make her cry so much, but now they're telling her she won't be able to get herself into her favorite bed anymore?!
"Y-you can't be serious!" Octavia's gaze shifted from one member of the electorate to another, searching for some sign that this was a misunderstanding or a cruel joke. However, their expressions remained solemn and serious, confirming the reality of the situation. "You can't just do that to me and my dad!"
"Quit whining, Via. Because there is an alternative solution." Astaroth didn't like it, but he won't deny the facts. "Now tell again, Octavia. Have you wondered why you did all the things for Vassago, from gathering up the research to grabbing the ancient Stolas Goetia's grimoire?"
"Some kind of test?"
"Indeed, now I will let Phenex say what she wants." Vassago let her fellow elector continue.
Phenex chuckled at that...and that's where the great surprise comes in.
"♪ Octavia, my dear great-niece. Since the day you were born, I have watched you grow into the remarkable woman standing before us today. Your beauty and intelligence are unrivaled. You possess a spark of greatness that few demons can match. Which is why I think today is the time...for you to find your place in Ars Goetia. By my will, I, Great Marquis-Elector Phenex Goetia, 37th Spirit of Lemegeton, invite you, Octavia Goetia, to become a marquise!
Phenex brought her talons together to summon a special gift. A crown to Octavia. Unlike hers, which signified Octavia as "princess," this one signifies her as Marquise. It's a nearly exact copy of her older one, but with a special gemstone at the top-center of the crown. It's completely black and extracted straight from meteor chunks, or Azathoth's tears," as they called them, according to the Goetian scientific community. How Phenex managed to get it from space is everyone's guess.
Once more, gossiping commenced all around. Gaap was fucking furious. Octavia was nothing but a depressed little goth girl. AND STILL she got an invitation to become a spirit!?
Octavia's heart swelled with emotions...she looked back at Charlie and at her dad, hoping for their wisdom and what to do. But they only smiled; it's her choice after all...and obviously Charlie won't always be here when Octavia needs her the most...same with her dad. With a deep breath, Octavia then addressed the electorate and the onlookers.
"You don't know how my heart has been broken so many times today. Ars Goetia brought me nothing but pain with their feuds, assassination attempts, and attempts to ditch my parents. I have witnessed so much pain and division caused by our feuds and the longing for power and control." Octavia slowly began, showing how much she despised the modern-day Goetia. "And yet...I know what's at stake, why I'm needed, and what my purpose is, not to mention the debt I owe to my future queen for everything she's done for me."
Octavia once more looked at Charlie, smiling brightly at her cousin...a rare sight for Octavia to produce such a genuine smile. Octavia's words still hung in the air, silencing the whispers and capturing the attention of those present. The room became still, as if holding its breath, awaiting her next words.
"My Great Marquis, I graciously accept your offer."
"Then kneel, Octavia Goetia." Phenex smiled; it was time.
With all eyes on her, Octavia went to the center, where a runic Goetian sigil pulsated on the floor. Standing at the center of it, Octavia knelt and bowed her head.
"♪ הבה נדע שארס תאורגיה גטיה בחר בחירות על פני רודנותו של אלוהים. בשבילנו ♪" Marquis Phenex pulled out her own sword, holding the blade up with her right hand while holding the crown in her left hand as she slowly made her way towards her. "In these words, our Ars Belial gave the greatest birth of the Demonic Order: the Ars Goetia, Octavia. And today, you stand here, honored to become a part of Belial's greatest legacy." Stopping near Octavia, Phenex's hand began to glow with magic, with the runic sigil's glow intensifying under Octavia's knees. "♪ And now, swear an oath to Ars Goetia. ♪"
Octavia gathered her courage, as it was a rather long one.
"Octavia Goetia is my name, bestowed in the name of the Ars, Goetia, and Lemegeton.”
“I pledge myself, from now and forever, to become a spirit of Ars Goetia. I declare to take freely and solemnly the oath of obedience and servitude.”
“With this oath I state my strong and irrevocable intent”
“To pledge my sword, my legions, my life and everything that I own to the cause, defense, strength and further knowledge of the Goetian sorcery; to protect the Unholy Inferno and our Lord Lucifer, the Land of Demons, and the domains of our forefathers.”
“To submit to the Rule of our Ars...um"
"♪ Ars Bael, Octavia. ♪" Phenex corrected her quickly. Still impressive how her great niece memorized the oath to Goetia.
“To submit to the Rule of our Ars Bael and to the Rules, Law and Decrees and all other statements issued in conformity of Electorate."
“To love my brothers and my sisters of Goetia and help them, their children and their widows with my sword, my advice, my means, and everything in my power, and will favor them, with no exception, over those who are not members of Goetia.”
“To defend the Seven Deadly Sins, to aid those who are persecuted for the cause of the Pentagram”
“To conform to the Laws and Customs of the Rings in which I may reside, to fulfill my duties as a demon, and to be a loyal Marquise in those Rings which entertain relations with the Goetia.”
“This oath I pronounce loudly before the Goetias present at Lemegeton. I sign it and confirm it by my voice.”
“Glory be to the Ars, and to the Lucifer, and to the Seven Deadly Sins."
"For in Ars, There is Goetia."
As Octavia swore an oath, Phenex pressed her sword's blade on Octavia's shoulders, initiating her. And the final piece was the crown, with Phenex carefully placing it upon Octavia's head. The weight of the crown settled upon her, a tangible symbol of her new role and responsibility.
"♪ And now...define yourself for the sigil to be completed, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex commanded.
Octavia used her magic powers to draw a sigil rune in the middle of the air, creating a perfect sigil. Her runic sigil glowed brightly, ready to unleash its powers as the owner was about to announce.
"I'm free...now and forever."
( https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/Octavia-s-Sigil-by-WhimzykMimzy/105548712.EJUG5 )
"♪ It is done then. ♪"
"♪ By the decision of the Great Marquis-Elector. ♪"
"♪ I welcome you into our ranks! Great Marquise Octavia Goetia: 36th Spirit of Lemegeton! ♪"
"♪ GLORY TO OCTAVIA GOETIA OF THE NEW INDEPENDENT HOUSE: THE HOUSE OF OCTAVIA! ♪"
As Phenex stepped back, the chamber erupted in applause once again, acknowledging Octavia's acceptance and initiation as the Marquisate. Octavia stood tall, her gaze sweeping across the chamber, taking in the faces of the demons who had witnessed this pivotal moment.
Stolas and Charlie clapped eagerly, their applause blending with the rest of the chamber. Their hearts swelled with pride as they watched Octavia embrace her new role as Marquisate. Stolas couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction in knowing that his daughter had triumphed over many challenges and so many burdens, and now she was a fully-fledged noble.
"The electorate welcomes you, Octavia! May Ars Belial and Bael watch you in pride as you serve!" Vassago announced that the rest of the electorate also honored the newest Marquise of Ars Goetia, bowing their heads.
"Thank you. I won't disappoint you." Octavia Goetia bowed her head and proceeded to the exit, preferring to be in a less crowded room.
On her way, she saw Gaap giving a death stare with crossed arms. Octavia maintained her composure, refusing to let the glare affect her. She understood that not everyone would be pleased with her elevation to the Marquisate, especially someone like Gaap who held their own grievances and resentments. That being said...Octavia could not help it. She couldn't resist the urge to silently express her defiance. Even as the newest Marquise, Old Octavia still lives on in her.
With a quick and discreet gesture, she formed the "Take an L, boozo" sign towards Gaap, a subtle way of indicating that he lost today. What he planned...all went in the trash as soon as Charlie stepped in. Gaap's eyes widened in surprise at Octavia's audacity, caught off guard by her unyielding spirit. And with that notion, Octavia left the chamber with the biggest smugness she could ever produce.
"Gaap, to the tribune... Now "
And the time has come for the young bird to answer for his crimes.
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/Lemegeton/The Castle of Ars Bael/In the Halls.
So many years...
So many months...
And so little memory
The fights, the arguments, the pain that she witnessed as a child...it all felt like it was yesterday. Octavia couldn't even recall how it started, how the seeds of their discontent were sown. It was as if the bitterness had always been there, a constant presence in her life.
And yet...it was truly over for her.
Octavia found herself in a quiet corridor, away from the noise and commotion of the chamber. She took a moment to collect her thoughts and let the weight of the day's events sink in. The air was still, allowing her mind to wander and reflect on everything that had transpired.
Today, with her initiation as the Marquise, she had hoped for closure and a new beginning. And while the day had brought its own set of unexpected revelations, it also marked a turning point for Octavia.
A bird, finally set free from the cage.
But amidst the triumph and pride, there was a lingering sense of sadness. Octavia couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the family she had always yearned for but never truly had. She wished that her parents could have put aside their differences and their pride and found a way to love and support each other. But that wasn't ever going to happen. Stella paid her prize, and even then, Octavia felt bittersweet about it. So many wounds can be deep enough to not be healed...
...
But sooner or later, they have to.
As the wind howled from the open window, Octavia reached for a pocket to get out that letter she had written earlier. Octavia stared at the folded piece of paper in her hand, her fingers tracing the creases as she contemplated its significance. It was a suicide letter, written during what she felt were the darkest moments of her life, when the weight of her pain felt unbearable. She had poured her heart and soul into those words, expressing her deepest despair and longing for release.
...
She is no stranger to depressed writing, music, and whatnot. But now, as she stood on the precipice of a new chapter, the letter felt out of place. It no longer resonated...she even now finds it ridiculous.
Octavia simply ripped her letter to pieces and threw them out the window, letting them fly in the direction the wind sent them. She watched as the torn pieces of her letter fluttered in the wind, carried away from her like fragments of a past she was ready to leave behind. It was a symbolic gesture, a final act of letting go.
And just in time, Prince Sto...just Stolas would carefully come to her, every step careful. Octavia heard him as she turned around, meeting her eyes with his.
Father and daughter stared at each other, their eyes locked in a moment of connection that transcended the years of pain and bickering between them two. Stolas could not change the past, that's already known. But deep inside, he still saw there was hope to make things right for Octavia...and maybe, just maybe, the future would give him a chance.
Or it already did...
"Your grace, I-" Stolas wanted to honor her properly as Marquise Octavia, but Octavia didn't bother with nobility bullshit and just embraced her dad fully. The titles and formalities held no significance in that moment—it was the connection between a father and his daughter.
"Dad..." Octavia whispered, her voice filled with guilt, regretting her screaming at him earlier.
"I know, Via...I know." Stolas shushed her, not needing to apologize. "But you shouldn't thank me. Thank my real savior instead."
Stolas tapped her shoulder to make Octavia look at where the doors were. Charlie was there, who left the chamber. She also carefully walked up close to them, not wanting to disturb their tender moment.
The young owl immediately let go of her father and rushed towards Charlie, embracing her with full power and strength, to the point of tears of happiness.
"Thank you-thank you-thank you THANK-YOU-SO-MUCH!" Octavia screamed in delight. Tears of joy streamed down her face, mingling with the smile that stretched across her lips and her beak.
"Told you I would help, didn't I?" Charlie chuckled. She returned the embrace, holding Octavia tightly.
"You did..."
*Sniff*
"You truly did, Charlie..."
For most of Octavia's life, Charlie has always been an anomaly. Whenever Octavia saw the cruelty of Hell, Charlie saw the kindness of it. More often, she felt her "cousin" was just bubbled in her fantasy world, and now, as an adult, she realizes how foolish it was for her to think that way.
The Princess of Hell had been a constant source of light and kindness in Octavia's life, providing a counterbalance to the darkness that had consumed her at times. Charlie's unwavering belief in Octavia's strength and her ability to overcome her struggles had been a guiding force, giving Octavia the hope she needed to face each day.
And today...Charlie helped close that chapter of Octavia's life.
And opened a new one...with a brighter moon illuminating her path.
Author: If you're curious how Great Marquis Andras looks like, here is the pictures for my inspiration. Make sure to check out the author's deviant art page! She is amazing artist.
(https://www.deviantart.com/sugaryicecreammlp/art/Stella-s-Family-Helluva-Boss-Oc-911417785)
(https://www.deviantart.com/sugaryicecreammlp/art/Happy-Father-s-Day-Helluva-Boss-Oc-926163971)
Chapter 28: Goetian Feuds, Ancient And Modern
Summary:
"Life is too bitter already, without territories and wars and noble feuds" ~ T. H. White
Notes:
Warning: There is "Mass Effect's style love scene" at the end of chapter. Nothing explicit but a little bit erotic, so be careful at the end...sex exists...you know :/
Chapter Text
September 21, 2025, AD (102 Days Before the next Purge), 18:42 PM.
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/Lemegeton/The Castle of Ars Bael/The Public Restaurant
@hotel_magnement: "So let me be straight, your simple travel to Lemegeton for Goetian help caused you to stop a conspiracy plot?!!!"
@Charlie_Apple666: "Not only that. I even managed to make one Goetia a full fledged noble thanks to that. It's one helluva story to share."
@hotel_magnement: "Mio Dio, this day is something, alright. First your dad, now this..."
@Charlie_Apple666: "Yeah. But I hope it's over for us. I'm in the public restaurant, waiting for the Electorate to finish their business before I can talk with one of them."
@hotel_magnement: "OK, just come back very soon. I miss you so much :)"
@Charlie_Apple666: "❤❤❤"
@Charlie_Apple666: "How is our happy gang, btw?"
@hotel_magnement: "They're fine. Me, Husk and Angel are playing Mamonopoly right now...well we try to. The Old whiskers can't exactly learn the rules properly while Angie berates him with sexual innuendos."
@Charlie_Apple666: "Glad you're having fun...and Alastor?"
@hotel_magnement: "What you think, C? Smiley is not even in Hotel right now...I can assume it's one of his "hunting season" or something."
@Charlie_Apple666: "Well...keep an eye out on him, Vags."
@hotel_magnement: "Hey, you know me, mi amor. We're in this together...just wished to be there with you to help you out."
@Charlie_Apple666: "I know. But soon I will go home with news. Just hope it was worth it in the end. See you back at the Hotel. Kisses!"
Charlie sighed and laid her phone on the table, the weight of the day's events pressing down on her like a heavy burden. She leaned her head back against the chair, closing her eyes and letting out a long, weary sigh. It had been a difficult day, one that had tested her strength, resolve, and endurance to the limit.
Thoughts raced through her mind, replaying the moments that had unfolded just hours ago. The confrontation with her father, the emotional reunion between Octavia and Charlie, and the unexpected discovery of the conspiracy plot within Lemegeton's walls. It had been a whirlwind of emotions, a rollercoaster ride of highs and lows, and Charlie couldn't deny that she was exhausted. Her mother, Lilith, always commented on how Charlie had always been a resilient and energetic soul. But even she had her breaking points—moments when the weight of hell seemed too much to bear. This day had pushed her to that edge.
As she sat there in the silence while the rest of the Goetia demons had their feast in the name of the new Marquise Octavia, Charlie reflected on how much she had endured and accomplished in unraveling the sinister plot of Ars Goetia. She had fought tooth and nail, driven by her relentless desire to protect her friend.
But now, in the aftermath of it all, Charlie felt the weariness seep into her bones. Her energy reserves were depleted, and she longed for a moment of respite, a chance to recharge and regain her strength. She yearned for the comforting presence of her friends and the warmth of their support, which had always been her guiding light.
Tiredness etched lines on her face as she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. The weight of responsibility felt heavier than ever, and Charlie knew that her journey was far from over.
"What would you like, my child?"
Charlie snapped out of her thoughts, quickly fixing her posture. She saw that a Goetian waiter, pure white as a dove, with a gentle and fatherly smile, waited patiently for Charlie's order...he has a weird tag name on his left chest.
“Goetia's Official Delegator.”
"Yeah...I would like -"
"One Apple juice, got it." The waiter interrupted her, as if he didn't listen to her and was already writing down on the note.
"Y-yeah...how did you know this?" Charlie was confused.
"There is an old saying that humans use: 'Like Father, like son.' Considering who your father is, Charlie. I can assume you're both lovers of apples."
Charlie blinked in surprise, taken aback by the waiter's accurate assumption. She hadn't expected anyone to know about her fondness for apples, let alone a Goetian waiter in Lemegeton.
"Yeah...seems like I took a lot from him, huh?" Charlie begrudgingly muttered. But the waiter's smile simply increased more.
"Nothing wrong with taking your father's foundation and building something greater. Once your father did it too, and so can you, my child."
"I don't know if I can." Charlie sighed, relaxing her head on the table with her arms, not caring for the manners. "Everyone hates me in Hell for what I'm trying to do. But I can't see Sinners like this...so much bloodshed and violence for nothing..."
The waiter approached the table with a gentle and understanding expression, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder. His touch was comforting, and his voice held a soothing tone as he spoke...as if it was fatherly love bestowed on Charlie's psyche.
"You've done such a good deed today, my child. You didn't judge either Stolas or Stella for their actions, and instead you helped them both, letting them go in peace. You saved Octavia from an unfortunate future of doom and destruction. You already showed how your father's legacy doesn't affect you. Remember, you are your own person, capable of forging your own path. You possess qualities and strengths that are uniquely yours. The choices you make and the actions you take define who you are."
"But how do I know if I'm making the right choices?" Charlie lifted her head slightly, her gaze meeting the waiter's compassionate eyes.
"What does your heart say about this?"
"I feel like...that I must do it...for everyone." Charlie shrugged at the end.
"Then that's the correct answer, Charlie." The waiter smiled softly, his hand squeezing her shoulder gently. "There is no right answer, my child. Life is filled with uncertainties, and sometimes we must trust our instincts and follow our hearts."
"And still, many berate me for following my heart."
"And that's why you have that companionship in the Hotel. Criticism is welcome, sure. But some criticism is done to destroy. Do you want me to recite the quote I somewhat appreciate the meaning?"
"Sure."
"Surround yourself with people who will lift you up, so ditch your loser friends who you can't use."
"That's...a bit assholeish to say." Charlie had to point out with a chuckle.
"In a way, true." The Goetiain Waiter chuckled back, agreeing fully. "But it’s also a crude way of telling the true meaning behind it. Charlie, surround yourself with those who support and believe in you, while avoiding the toxic relationships that grant you nothing but burdens on your soul."
Charlie listened intently to the waiter's words, finding solace and wisdom in his advice. It was a profound reminder that the path she had chosen wouldn't always be understood or appreciated by others. It was a lonely journey; one filled with uncertainty and doubt. But in the end, what mattered most was the impact she made and the change she brought about, even if it went unnoticed or unacknowledged by those around her.
"I understand," Charlie whispered, a sense of clarity washing over her. "It's not about seeking recognition or approval. It's about doing what's right, even when no one else sees it."
"When you do things right. People won't be sure you've done anything at all" The waiter quoted and simply closed his beak, allowing for Charlie to ponder what he meant. "Never give up, Charlie. For you are a peacemaker of Hell...and peacemakers are blessed to be righteous in their path."
Charlie's eyes widened at the waiter's words, the quote sinking deep into her weary soul. The waiter then turned to attend to other guests. Charlie sat there, her entire body tingling with a renewed sense of purpose. This entire conversation was both uplifting and strange and mysterious. And just in time, her old friend, Cal Von Dagon, would return back, with a shocked face.
"Unholy shit, C.M! They have fucking golden toilets in the public bathroom!"
"So?" Charlie made a silly smile.
"GOLDEN TOILETS!"
Charlie chuckled at Cal's exuberant reaction, grateful for the distraction from the weighty conversation she had just experienced. Cal always had a way of bringing a lightheartedness to any situation.
"Well, Cal, it seems like you've found something that truly impresses you," Charlie teased, shaking her head in amusement. "And here I thought we were having a catch-up. But hey, if golden toilets get you excited, who am I to judge?"
Cal grinned, his excitement contagious. "Oh, you know me, C.M. But seriously, can you imagine the luxury of using a golden toilet?"
"They're Goetia, Cal."
"...Does it mean they lay golden eggs by chance? If so, I will let Leviathan know to commence bathroom plundering from now on."
Charlie laughed, enjoying the moment of lightheartedness. It was a welcome reprieve from what happened today.
"So good to see you once again, Cal."
"You too, Charlie." Cal's grin softened, and he nodded in agreement. "I won't lie, Lemegeton would be the last place in my mind to see you. I never thought you would take it upon yourself as a burden to work through Ars Goetia's bullshit."
"Yeah, me too." Charlie paused for a moment, considering her words. "But sometimes, unexpected paths lead us to places we never imagined. Like void, Cal. You can't imagine what I went through today to get me here."
"I somewhat can, I think." Cal shrugged. "Like, it's not the first time this shit has happened. Five years ago In Envy Ring, I saw with my own eyes how they tried to assassinate Seviathan."
"Wait, what?" Charlie was surprised with worry tone in her voice. "Is Sev okay?"
"Oh, yeah. He is fine these days. Just one-time Forneus Goetia tried to destroy the ship Seviathan was supposed to be on, but Leviathan instead let him handle their old heraldry ship. And just so happens that Forneus' own ship was near, and...yeah it's a typical Ars Goetian plot."
"Well...I'm relieved to hear that Sev is okay." Charlie's eyebrows furrowed in concern as she listened to Cal's story. The dangers and intrigues within the world of the Goetia were no secret, but hearing about an assassination attempt on Seviathan, hit close to home.
In the meantime, a different waiter will bring a glass of apple juice, silently laying it on the table and nodding to Charlie before leaving them alone.
"Sure you don't want something, Cal?" Charlie asked, taking a cup to wet her lips.
"Nah, I'm fine. Personally, I want rum right now, but I have to keep my head straight on my way to Envy Ring."
Charlie nodded understandingly, taking another sip of her apple juice. She knew the importance of staying focused, especially when Goetia was near him.
"How is Envy Ring these days?"
"Could be better, Charlie. It's us with the usual threats of naval blockade if the other Ring doesn't want to play nice with us. Same with Ars Goetia, actually."
"From what I heard in your conversation with the Electorate, it sounded serious." Charlie presumed, already half finished with her apple juice.
Cal Von Dagon would look back, examining the surroundings. Nearly all of the Goetia are still celebrating this day of Octavia's inauguration a bit far away, allowing for Cal to be fully truthful to Charlie.
"Lord Leviathan is paranoid that Ars Goetia is financing Frederick's claim on the Envious throne."
"Why? Seviathan is the heir of Envy, last I heard." Charlie slightly raised her eyebrow.
"Well, yeah. But that's ENVY Ring you speak of. It's no secret that Frederick Von Eldritch wants the throne for himself, considering he refers to himself as "Leviathan Jr." sometimes. And so, in recent months, we had more and more Ars Goetian naval power patrolling the rivers of Gluttony, very near where our Ocean begins."
Charlie's concern deepened as she listened to Cal's explanation. The intricate power dynamics and political maneuvering within the Goetia were always a cause for caution, considering what happened today with Octavia's case.
"So, you're saying that Ars Goetia might be trying to destabilize the Envy Ring by backing Frederick's ambitions?" Charlie inquired, her tone filled with skepticism and worry.
Cal nodded solemnly. "That's the fear of Lord Leviathan, Charlie. If Frederick manages to gain power with Ars Goetia's support, it could have dire consequences for Seviathan and the stability of the Envy Ring as a whole. Lord Leviathan is taking this threat very seriously, hence why I'm here."
"Seems like with what happened with your conversation, nothing good came from it."
"Sure, but it's not like Envy Ring is desperate. Trust me, Charlie. I'm the Commander of the entire Envious Armada with a strong succession line in any case. We will be ready."
"Just remember to stay safe, Cal," Charlie said, her tone filled with genuine concern. "We need you in one piece, Grand Admiral. The Envy Ring wouldn't be the same without your unique brand of chaos."
"Are you saying the Envy Ring needs chaos?" Cal raised an eyebrow playfully.
Charlie chuckled. "Maybe just a little. But your chaotic energy brings a certain balance to the madness."
"In that, case. To chaos and the friendships that withstand it, your majesty." Cal grinned, raising his imaginary glass.
"To chaos and enduring friendships, Grand Admiral of the Envious Fleet." Charlie echoed, clinking her apple juice cup against Cal's imaginary glass. Cal just improvised by flicking her cup with his silky fingers.
Charlie and Cal spent the rest of their time catching up, reminiscing about their school days and sharing stories of their adventures. The weighty conversation about the Goetia and the potential threat to Envy Ring was temporarily set aside as they embraced the joy of friendship and the comfort of familiar memories. It would last at least 20 more minutes as Cal is on the clock to bring news to Lord Leviathan. Charlie and Cal bid each other farewell, promising to stay in touch and support one another in their respective endeavors.
Once Cal left her, Charlie finished her drink, and she herself would leave the restaurant, wanting to see how the newly inaugurated Goetia is doing. Charlie obviously would find her at one of the many balconies of Ars Bael's Castle, as she is not much of a "party-goer." That's where she went next, going through the bustling corridors of the castle, avoiding the gazes from Goetia, who bowed their heads to their majesty.
As Charlie approached the balcony of Ars Bael's Castle, she noticed Octavia sitting on one of the sofas, gazing up at the sky. The setting sun painted a beautiful backdrop against the cityscape of Lemegeton, and the twinkling stars began to emerge, casting a mystical glow over the scene.
Approaching Octavia from behind, Charlie exchanged nods with Stolas, who stood quietly and obediently by the nearest wall. Stolas understood the unspoken communication and stepped aside to give Charlie and Octavia some privacy.
"It's a breathtaking view, isn't it?" Charlie called out softly, drawing her friend's attention.
"Indeed, it is." Octavia turned her head and smiled warmly at Charlie. "The beauty of the night sky never failed to captivate me....in my owlet days, I loved to see the starfall especially."
"Starfall?" Charlie repeated.
"Yeah, it's very beautiful when a star falls down. It's very rare to see it happen on the Mortal Plane, even rarer in Hell."
Charlie joined Octavia on the sofa, settling down beside her. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment; both lost in their own thoughts as they admired the scenery.
"I actually only saw a meteor shower once in my life." Charlie shared it, breaking the silence.
"They're not meteor showers, Charlie. They're Azathoth's Tears," Octavia corrected her friend.
"Oh?" Charlie never knew that.
"You see. In the great expanse of the nether, there exists boundless amounts of magnificent phenomena: the great brilliance of an exploding star, the nimble dance of space dust through a nebula. But once every thousand years, our corner of reality is treated to an incredible sight from the deep eldritch recesses of the cosmos: the tears of a forgotten colossus begin to fall." Octavia went full-on "Astronomy nerd" mode on Charlie. "These tears, made of the hopes and dreams of every living thing that never came to be, were perpetually condensed and sent shooting across the night sky in a dazzling final display. Thus, what appears to mortal or demon beings as a meteor shower, we can see for what it is: Azathoth's Tears.
Stolas smirked at himself, eavesdropping a little bit on their conversation. Looks like she learned a lot from him...and he was glad that she shares that knowledge with the others.
"That's... incredible," Charlie said, her voice filled with awe. The Princess of Hell listened intently to Octavia's explanation, her eyes widening with wonder. She, of course, had always been fascinated by the mysteries of the universe from Azazel's own lessons, but she had never heard of Azathoth's Tears before. Octavia's passion for astronomy and her knowledge of celestial phenomena were truly impressive.
"You know, the next one on the calendar should be the next year. If you want, you could tag along to see it."
"That would be delightful. Thank you, Via." Charlie smiled warmly, appreciated for this.
They sat together in companionable silence, their gaze fixed on the night sky as the stars continued to emerge, casting a mesmerizing glow over the city of Lemegeton. The moment felt serene and magical, a reminder of the vastness and wonder of the universe they inhabited.
But still, the memories of this day still lingered on. Even now that Charlie won this battle, the concern was still imminent...for Octavia's own sake.
"Via..." Charlie called out softly, not wanting to startle her. "About today...I'm...so sorry about this."
"For what?"
"Everything, really. You have been pushed so much at this point...and I cannot help but feel responsible about it as well. I saw you didn't want to take your dad's position...and only did it just for me."
Octavia turned to face Charlie, her expression gentle and understanding. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on Charlie's arm.
"You don't need to apologize, Charlie," Octavia said, her voice filled with reassurance. "It's you who saved my parents from their deaths. Dad told me already what you went through to help me. For that, I'm eternally grateful. The decision to take my father's position was ultimately mine, even if it wasn't my initial desire...but at the same time, if you just asked me, I would have done it."
"I wasn't going to ask, Octavia. Never in my mind would I ask you to do that." Charlie shook her head.
"But why?" Octavia was confused. "Think about it: I could help you with the Hotel. I have wealth, power, and much more. Why would you not want me as your loyal Goetia vassal?"
"Because I respect you, Octavia!" Charlie slightly raised her voice, still stressed from everything that happened. "You saw what Ars Goetia did to you. They forced your parents into a loveless marriage, nearly killed them, and plotted behind your back to get you into one of their houses...but in the end, you still accept it to be part of them. You deserve to choose your own path, free from the expectations and manipulations of others."
"But I'm free , thanks to you." Octavia smiled even more. "Marquise or not, I'm still that Octavia you know, Charlie. I won't let the weight of this crown on me crush me, to turn me into a monster like Uncle Andre had become... or even like my mother. I know what power can do to you...and I won't allow it to corrupt my mind."
Charlie sighed, her eyes searching Octavia's face for any signs of doubt. But all she found was unwavering determination and conviction.
"...I just hope you will be okay, Via."
"♪ She will, your majesty. I will make sure of it, hmm yes. ♪"
And of course, Great Marquis-Elector Phenex let herself be known, carefully approaching the young ones, her heels clacking against the marble. Charlie turned her attention to Phenex, a warm smile forming on her lips. She didn't forget Stella's words about what she and her aunt plotted. And for that, Charlie is very grateful of Phenex's presence and everything she also went trough for Octavia's sake.
"It means a lot to have your support in looking out for her." Charlie said gratefully.
"♪ What type of Aunt I would be to not support my great-niece, your majesty. ♪" Phenex smirked, caressing her neck. "♪ Not to mention the length she had to accomplish to make it work at the end. ♪"
Charlie chuckled, seeing a little hint of Phenex's involvement. "And again...thank you for everything, Phenex. If not for you, we would not have saved Octavia's parents."
"Wait, what?" The Young Marquise raised her eyebrow.
"Well, it was Phenex's idea in the first place. She made sure that your mom had the audio recorder hidden with her, Via. Then I used it myself to get evidence of conspiracy on you."
"That's...very badass, Aunt." Octavia smirked. "And thank you...I mean it."
Phenex only smiled and softly pecked Via's cheek affectionately; no words were needed to show how much the Great Marquis is willing to do for Octavia's well-being.
The only one who was displeased was Stolas. Even now Stella's own words echoed in his mind, distrusting Phenex at all. His time as Prince of Goetia proved you can't have genuine actions out of your heart in Goetia.
"Your majesties, If I may." Stolas gently comes up, directing his attention at Phenex. "We saw that both my father and your brother plotted to get my Starfire in their houses. But now it turns out you and Stella were plotting as well. Is this all because you and Stella want Octavia under your wing, to control her now?"
"♪ Obviously, the entire point was to make Octavia a marquise instead of a princess, Stolas. ♪" Phenex again wasn't affected by Stolas' distrust. "♪ Think about it. As Princess Octavia of House Paimon, she would have no say against her Grandfather. Knowing Paimon, he would’ve forced our Octavia into a loveless marriage. Same with Andras who would’ve done the same as well. ♪"
"So you saved her from the same doom I had?" Phenex's response seemed to catch Stolas off guard, and his expression softened as he processed her words.
"♪ Of course, it's better to be a Marquise Octavia of House Octavia and under the wing of a Great Marquis-Elector who loves her, instead to be a Princess Octavia of House Paimon or Andras-Phenexia under the wing of Prince-Elector Vassago, who very much would done nothing if Paimon complained. ♪"
"You too lose her in your house as well." Stolas had to point it out.
"♪ Houses are such an overrated concept in Ars Goetia, Stolas. I don't give a shit what Octavia's heraldry house is; she is still my great-niece, hmm yes. ♪"
Stolas remained silent for a moment, his gaze shifting between Phenex and Octavia. The weight of the revelations seemed to settle heavily on his shoulders, and he realized that there was more to the situation than he had initially understood.
"I... I see," Stolas finally said, his voice stained with resignation and understanding. "I don't understand your motivations, Phenex, but it's clear that you acted in Octavia's best interests. “I apologize for assuming the worst and doubting your intentions."
"♪ I appreciate your willingness to reconsider, Stolas. ♪" Phenex nodded, accepting Stolas' apology with grace. "♪ We all want what's best for Octavia in the end. Be proud your own daughter will take your place and is ready to face it. ♪"
"Yeah, about that." Octavia interjected. "Hey, Aunt. I'm more familiar with what Princes do in Ars Goetia. But what about Marquises...like what will I do now that I'm one of them?"
Phenex's smile widened as she looked at Octavia, proud of the young woman before her. "Being a Marquise, Octavia, comes with its own set of responsibilities and privileges. As a Marquise, you will have the opportunity to govern the borderlands of Pride Ring and lead House Octavia, shaping its future and ensuring the well-being of those who serve you."
"Are you sincere in that?" Octavia felt there was some catch in there.
"♪ Well...that's what's written in Ars Goetian chronicles, you see. ♪" Phenex grinned.
"And in the truth?"
"♪ The truth: you can just sit in your mansion and do whatever you want, Via. If anyone complains, redirect their complaints to me. ♪"
Octavia blinked in surprise at Phenex's response, amused by it. She couldn't help but chuckle at her aunt's straightforwardness.
"So, in essence, I have the freedom to do whatever I want under the pretense that I govern my region?"
"♪ My special treat, Octavia. You're welcome. ♪"
Well...here Octavia lost all doubt about becoming an Marquise.
"SPIRITS YEAH!" Octavia cheered; immediately she had so many ideas for when she will return to her mansion. She still needs to catch up with taxidermy, as the constant infighting between her parents reduced the amount of "dead animal" supplies that she received.
"You do realize that a Princess of Hell is here and heard everything right now." Charlie grinned, joining the fun. "I won't be happy if the Marquises in my Ring are slacking off."
"Oh, don't worry, your majesty." Octavia's eyes narrowed slightly, and a hint of mischief danced in her gaze. "But I need an additional monthly contribution for my domain. Can't be an effective vassal if you're not investing your treasury on me."
"Well, you got me here, Marquise." Charlie shrugged; Octavia got her good.
Phenex chuckled too, delighted by Octavia's enthusiastic response. "♪ My-my, barely than two hours passed and already she shows her scheming skills. ♪"
"They grow so fast, don't they?" Stolas muttered, even he won't deny that he is proud of her.
"♪ And we still need you to make you a proper Marquise, Via. You can't just walk around with that messy nest of hair of yours. ♪"
"What's wrong with my hair?" Octavia ran a hand through her unruly hair, feigning offense at Phenex's remark.
"♪ Oh, Via, they're fine. However, they may be improved with some of the mixes I have in my place. Given that Stolas would need to complete a lot of paperwork for his home, we should have plenty of time to set you up in my castle. ♪"
"Excuse me, your majesty?" Stolas wasn't sure what she meant.
"♪ Would be weird if Octavia's mansion is filled with her father's emblems, not hers. ♪" Phenex gave him an "I disapprove of this" look for Stolas' lack of understanding. The Ex-Prince blinked a few times before finally comprehending Phenex's meaning. And yeah, Phenex is correct. To be a royal Goetia is one thing...and to own a property is another important aspect.
"Starfire, as your aunt is implying, I must do a lot of..."changes" before I can transfer the ownership of our mansion to you. Could it be possible for you to settle down in your Aunt's castle for now?"
"Well...that sucks." Octavia wasn't sure about this.
"♪ I have soft beds, great Wi-Fi...and an Xbox One with plenty of video games straight from Earth, hmm yes ♪." Phenex winked at Octavia.
The Young Marquise's eyes widened with excitement at the moment her aunt mentioned the game console. But then the weight of the events was dawning on her, especially when looking at her father’s slightly saddened face.
"Aunt, as much as your offer is tempting, it really is. But after today, I would rather sleep in my own bed for now. I’ll think about it."
"♪ That's okay my dear ♪" Phenex clapped her hands once and held them together, respecting her niece’s decision. She then brought her attention to Charlie. "♪ Now that aside. Your majesty, Duke Astaroth freed himself and will see you right now in his office. Octavia, you're also a welcome to tag along as there is something you want to hear as well. ♪"
"Got it, Aunt. Just out of curiosity: what happened with Gaap? Can I take a selfie with his dead body on the gallows?"
"♪ Yeah, about that, my Starfire. ♪" Here Phenex actually got...tensed. She awkwardly scratched her featherily neck, as what she is about to say will make Octavia...annoyed to put it mildly. "♪ I'm afraid he will be let go. ♪"
"...Why?" Octavia gritted her teeth.
"♪ Because it's Ars Goetia Electorate, Via. What else can I say? ♪" Phenex shrugged once more.
Octavia's frustration was evident as she let out a sigh. She had been looking forward to witnessing the downfall of Gaap and capturing the moment as a memento.
"Well...on the bright side. Things can't get any worse for me... right?"
*Door Kick*
"WAZ UP, BITCHES!"
And to Octavia's horror, she made a slow turn at the entrance of the balcony...and saw him .
Gaap
With Stolas' crown on his head and the sigil.
"No... This can't be happening," Octavia muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with anger.
"A NEW PRINCE IN THE TOWN OF LEMEGETON!"
"ME! GAAP GOETIA: THE 33RD SPIRIT OF THE ARS GOETIA!"
"GET REKT, OCTAVIA!"
*Gaap dabs at her*
As soon as he proclaimed it, Octavia Goetia fell on her knees, an extreme amount of anger evident. Phenex just face-palmed herself, ashamed of herself and not happy with how it turned out. And Stolas turned away with shame, seeing his crown being used by that piece of shit.
And Charlie released the breath...just tired from Ars Goetian bullshit. But it's nothing compared to when Octavia will let it out.
"F-F-F-F-F-FUUU!!!"
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/Lemegeton/The Castle of Ars Bael/Duke Astaroth's Office
And once more, Ars Goetia shows its colors.
Octavia felt complete fury—the first time that it happened. There were times when she felt anger toward her dad and her mom for their own infighting. But these times are nothing compared to what is now going on.
Fucking Gaap
Octavia's anger burned within her, fueled by the betrayal she felt at the sight of Gaap wearing Stolas' crown and a new sigil. The audacity of the Ars Goetian Electorate to welcome him into their ranks despite his treacherous plot to kill her parents was infuriating beyond words. She could feel her blood boiling, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
And now, she finds herself trying to control herself in front of Duke Astaroth, who is uptightly sitting on his office chair, staring at both young Goetias in silence, allowing Octavia to calm down. Gaap, on the other hand, ever so smugly rested his hands on his head.
Octavia took a deep breath, attempting to quell the fire of rage burning within her. She knew that losing control wouldn't serve her purpose or bring justice to her family. Despite the seething anger that threatened to consume her, she mustered all her strength to maintain her composure.
Duke Astaroth's gaze shifted between Octavia and Gaap, his expression unreadable. The silence in the room stretched, allowing Octavia a moment to collect her thoughts and regain her composure.
"Young Marquise," Duke Astaroth finally said, his voice calm yet commanding. "I understand the depth of your anger and frustration, considering what happened today."
"No fucking shit, my Elector." Octavia hissed back but showed obedience to the Elector. Octavia shot a glance at Gaap, his smug demeanor only serving to fuel her fury further. She clenched her beak against her lower lip, determined not to let him see her weakness.
Duke Astaroth grumbled, disliking the childish behavior of Octavia.
"The decision was made to grant Gaap a place as a Spirit is final, young Marquise. If you don't like it so much, hand over your crown and leave then."
"You would love that, wouldn't you, Duke-Elector?" Octavia shot a glare at Astaroth.
"And how dare you talk with me like that? Show some-"
"Enough!" Prince-Elector Vassago raised a hand, gesturing for both Octavia and Duke to calm down. "This is neither the time nor the place for personal conflicts, Duke. And again, Octavia, despite Prince Gaap’s attempts to kill your parents, we saw Gaap's own skills that will benefit Ars Goetia a lot."
"Not to mention bribing and blackmailing an Elector. Not every day you see and hear this." Astaroth added his own opinion to Vassago's words.
"Yes, hence the electorate decided to welcome him; same with you, Octavia. My personal recommendation as your ex-elector: set aside your personal grievances and work together for Ars Goetia's future. You both are Marquise and Prince, respectively, after all."
"Don't worry, Uncle Vassago. I am well aware of it." Gaap chuckled arrogantly, his eyes narrowing as he locked gazes with Octavia. "At the end of the day, I never had any grievances with our lovely Marquise over there, and I have no interest in causing any further feuds with her. As long as she is willing, I will extend my hand to her in the name of Ars Goetia and Ars himself."
Octavia's anger flared at his words, but she bit her tongue, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"Octavia?" Vassago wanted to be sure.
"Yes, Uncle. I'm...willing to let it slide...for now." Octavia reluctantly nodded, biting back her retort. She knew that letting her emotions get the better of her would only hinder her cause...but she can't help it...Stella's daughter, after all.
"And one final note. Gaap," Duke Astaroth turned his attention to Gaap, his gaze piercing through the smug façade. "Even though you have been granted a position within the princedom, let it be known that blatant bribery of the electorate has not been forgotten, no matter how much you impressed us. Any further transgressions will be met with severe consequences."
Gaap's smug expression faltered for a moment, his confidence wavering under Duke Astaroth's stern gaze. He quickly composed himself, nodding in acknowledgment.
"I understand, Duke Astaroth," Gaap replied, his tone lacking the usual arrogance. "I am fully aware of the consequences of my past actions, and I assure you, I will not give you any reason to doubt my loyalty to Ars Goetia."
Duke Astaroth nodded, his gaze shifting back to Octavia. "Then I hope all complaints are addressed for today. Now wait for a moment as I talk with our majesty."
Both Gaap and Octavia stood up from their chairs, each going to their own corner to keep their distance from each other. Stolas waited for Octavia in one of the corners of Astaroth's office room, completely silent in respect of the nobles all around him.
"Dad..." Octavia spoke softly, her anger subsiding as she looked at him. "I don't know how to handle this situation. Gaap's attempt on your life... it's hard to accept."
"I know, my Starfire. It's not easy to forgive and forget such actions, especially when they threaten you." Stolas placed a comforting hand on Octavia's shoulder, his touch grounding her. "Part of me was always afraid that Stella would go as far as to kill you. If that happened, I don't know how I would handle it myself...hatred is such an unpredictable emotion. But you must never succumb to it like your own mother did, Via. You're better than this, and don't let that asshole ruffle your feathers."
"Do you think Gaap can be trusted at all?"
"Trust is a delicate thing in Ars Goetia these days, Via." Stolas sighed, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Just remain vigilant with him every time. But for now, let us hear what our majesty will say."
Octavia nodded, taking her father's advice fully. She didn't say a word as she glanced at her friend. Most of the time, Charlie leaned against the window, waiting patiently. Duke Astaroth would write down some report papers very quickly before stamping them, finally allowing him to focus his attention on the Heir of Inferno.
"Thank you for your strong patience, your majesty." Duke Astaroth gestured for Charlie to freely sit down. "You truly surprised us today. First you came to the Valley of Ars Belial with no warning, and now you managed to stop the plot."
"Hey, that's what friends do in dire times." Charlie smirked as she walked up to take a seat. She took a one-second glance in Octavia's direction before looking back at Astaroth.
Duke Astaroth hummed slightly at Charlie's response, surprised at her lightheartedness.
"Yes, indeed. True friends are invaluable, especially in times of crisis. Still, your intervention prevented a great tragedy today; that's true. But it also raised some eyebrows and grudges, your majesty. We promised full autonomy from the Seven Deadly Sins and now you're involving yourself." Astaroth replied, his tone carrying a hint of suspicion.
"I'm not my Dad, Astaroth. And I don't care for his politics either." Charlie showed a slight annoyance in her voice.
"With all respect, your majesty. But that's the politics." Astaroth noted his tone. "Even that hotel of yours has its own politics, don't you think?"
"I must respectfully disagree." Charlie interjected, her voice firm and unwavering. "I opened my hotel with the intention of redeeming sinners and helping the unfortunate souls find their happiness."
"And that's where I have a sincere problem with you, your majesty." Astaroth sighed. Best for it to be known. "Would you be so kind as to tell me why you want to redeem sinners?"
Charlie leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful as she considered Duke Astaroth's question. She understood that her motives and intentions might seem unconventional to the traditional hierarchy of Ars Goetia, but she believed in the power of redemption and second chances.
"I want to redeem sinners because I believe that no one is beyond salvation," Charlie began, her voice earnest. "Throughout my own experiences and encounters, I have come to understand that many sinners, regardless of their sins or mistakes, carry burdens, traumas, and regrets that shape their actions. I believe that by offering them a chance at redemption, by providing them with support, understanding, and guidance, we can help them find their way back to the path of goodness and growth."
"And that's all?" Duke Astaroth raised his eyebrow.
"Well..." Charlie searched for the words. "There is also an Extermination..."
"And in order to stop the Exterminations...you fought them directly and killed their leader for it?"
"I had no choice, as I don't want to fight with Heaven...plus it wasn't me who killed him. Dad came and helped us win the the battle. "
"And again, I can see you're trying to do it peacefully, despite the other side's intention for us and the Inferno. I could not help but be concerned about your goals."
Before continuing, Duke Astaroth would get up and walk up to the window. Sadly, it's not possible to see the distant planet with a halo on it from the window, but the Duke hopes that her majesty understands why he is worried for her.
"Did your father and his majesty Lucifer ever tell of those days when he was part of the Heavenly Choir?"
"Barely, I'm afraid. I only read the book made by my mom." Charlie leaned forward, intrigued by Duke Astaroth's mention of her father's past.
"Well, allow me to tell you a story from my perspective." Duke Astaroth nodded, his gaze fixed on a distant point as if he were reminiscing. "Long ago, when your father was still an angel in the Heavenly Choir, there was a time of great conflict and turmoil in Heaven. Lucifer, the Morningstar, led a rebellion against the divine order that defined everything in existence. Do you wonder why it happened in the first place?"
"Not really, no." Charlie shook her head.
"It's because of Adam and Eve." Astaroth nearly hissed; it still hurts even now. "When I saw them, I felt nothing but confusion and shock as to why the tyrant himself bothered to create lesser beings from angels. Then it turns out that he wants us to BOW to them."
"Ah, my mom told me once about it. Seeing Adam with my own eyes, it must have been a challenging time for the angels' own beliefs." Charlie remarked softly.
"Yes, it was..." Astaroth nearly smirked. "Loyalist scum were so ignorant and still were willing to spread their anuses for humanity. Thankfully, there are those who were smarter and stronger and challenged that insanity. And thanks to that, "demonhood" is what defined them, for we're better beings of power and mind than these wretched angels."
Charlie's expression turned grave as Duke Astaroth's words took a bitter and resentful turn. She had hoped for a perspective that would shed light on her father's past and the reasons behind the rebellion, but Astaroth's words seemed to be filled with disdain for the angels and a sense of superiority for the demons.
"But do you know why I'm bringing this up? It's because now I see you, your majesty Charlotte Morningstar, daughter to a leader of the Rebellion Host, is now trying to do the opposite."
"I-I'm sorry?"
"Instead, you're wasting your time on Adam and Eve's pathetic legacy: Sinners of Earth, to help them be redeemed and get themselves to the afterlife that WE fought against in the first place. And now, here you are, seeking to redeem sinners and align yourself with the very beings your father fought against."
Charlie's brows furrowed slightly as she absorbed Astaroth's words. It was true that her father had rebelled against the heavenly hierarchy, but she had hoped that her actions would be seen as a means to bring about positive change rather than a betrayal of her demonic heritage.
"Just be straight with me, Duke Astaroth. What's your problem with me?"
"Simple, your majesty."
Duke Astaroth once again stood up, this time going for his table and taking a seat on it, looking directly into Charlie's eyes.
"I'm worried that your hotel is some kind of ploy of Heaven to destroy the Inferno."
Charlie's eyes widened slightly at Duke Astaroth's statement; that was a bold move to accuse a Princess of Hell of treachery against her kingdom.
"Duke Astaroth, my loyalty lies with the betterment of my kingdom. By helping sinners find their way back to the path of goodness, I hope that it will stop the extermination altogether. You said it yourself: I managed to deal a huge blow to them."
"Noble cause to Inferno, no doubt." A flicker of doubt crossed Astaroth's face, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"I take it you don't trust me?" Charlie's gaze met Duke Astaroth's, her expression unwavering. She could sense the skepticism and doubt in his words, but she remained resolute in her beliefs and intentions.
Duke Astaroth's gaze hardened as he met Charlie's unwavering expression. He could see the determination in her eyes, but his doubt remained.
"Trust is earned, Your Majesty," Astaroth replied, his tone cautious. "Your intentions may be noble, but actions speak louder than words. Your hotel project and your interactions with the sinners raise concerns among some of the demons. How can I make you a deal when your own loyalty is questionable at best, your majesty?"
"Ahh, now there is a catch, Anti-One." Sin's voice rang inside Charlie's mind, making the Princess of Hell realize where it was going. It looks like it's more complicated than she thought it would be.
"Alright then, Duke. I understand in order for you and me to make a deal regarding my hotel, you want me to prove your worth."
There was no response from Duke Astaroth, and the silence that followed only intensified the tension between them. Duke Astaroth's gaze bore into Charlie, his eyes searching for any hint of sincerity.
"Prince Gaap, Marquise Octavia, come to me." Astaroth called out for them.
Immediately, both Octavia and Gaap would come closer; they shared a "death glare" with each other but opted to stay silent in front of their majesty and superior Goetian Duke.
"Like I told you in the Valley of Ars Belial, your majesty, there is something that I can do to help you reestablish your hotel as 'Royal property.' However, in exchange, I need your help."
"What is it?"
For that, Astaroth showed a palm to wait as he grabbed the phone, dialing the specific number. After a few moments, Astaroth put the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to connect. The room fell into silence as everyone anticipated the conversation that would unfold. Finally, the call connected.
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Crimson Knolastname, Duke Astaroth is calling. I need all documents regarding the Limbo's Insurgency from the Frumentarii archives in Wrath Ring."
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Don't play dumb on me, Crimson. I know who you are and what your true role in the Greed Ring is. I work with Praefectus Frumentarius Vulps Inculta a lot when it comes to the liquidation of degenerates in the Ring of Wrath."
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Color me impressed, then."
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Alright, thank you."
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Yes...True to Satan."
Astaroth dropped the phone and brought his hands behind him, giving some time. Charlie was about to ask what was happening, only to be silenced once more.
*Knock-Knock*
"See, your majesty? That's how Frumentarius operates so quickly." Astaroth smirked as he went to the door, opening it. An imp, dressed in a formal suit and dapper gambler's hat, waited in front of the door with a bunch of scrolls, all bearing the mark of Satan.
"Salve, Astaroth. We do not forget the friends of the Legion." He offered the scrolls to the Duke.
"True to Satan, Frumentarius. Go and bear the news to your Praefectus." Astaroth grabbed the scrolls, giving a nod to the Frumentarius Imp.
The Frumentarius Imp simply flicked his fingers, teleporting him back to the Ring of Wrath. Astaroth closed the door, turning his attention back to the room.
"How does it relate to our agreement?" Charlie couldn't help but inquire,
"I don't know how to say this, your majesty." Astaroth held the scrolls tightly in his hand, his expression unreadable. He approached Charlie, his gaze fixed on her. He would once again sit on his office chair. "But sometimes...there are two who reject the concept of "Eternal Inferno" and wish it to be destroyed."
"You mean?" Charlie slightly raised her right eyebrow.
"In short."
"Your kingdom is facing a massive rebellion at this very moment."
Charlie's eyes widened in surprise as Astaroth revealed the gravity of the situation. A rebellion within her own kingdom was the last thing she expected to hear. Her mind raced with questions and concerns, but she maintained her composure, determined to understand the full extent of the situation.
"A rebellion?" Charlie repeated, her voice showing disbelief.
"Oh yeah, your majesty. This is what happens when there is no consensus among demonkind." Astaroth sighed. "They get rowdy and then defile the will of the Seven Deadly Sins. That is what is happening on the wretched Ring of Limbo. Have you heard any news regarding Limbo's situation by chance?"
Charlie shakes her head in no.
"Good, then our propaganda machines work properly." Astaroth released a breath, at least glad that panic wouldn't be a problem in the Infernal populace. He knew he had to provide Charlie with the full picture, no matter how grim it was. "For the longest time, the old ancient lands of the "Despair Ring," or Limbo as it's called now, were something that Inferno considered the "Tumor" of Hell. For most of the time, we tried to establish strict control over it, but we still failed. Void, we even tried the colonization effort, and even that failed in the end."
"How bad is it up there?" Charlie wondered.
"Very bad...Limbo is the Wasteland of Hell, your majesty, and with chaos and savagery, there is no rule of law up there. There is no civilization, nothing but the ruins of the old regime and ancient times. Pentagram City's violence is nothing compared to Limbo's. All low-life raiders of various groups have arsenals of blessed weapons for use. That's why Limbo is a good place to hide if you're a dissident of Inferno, and I can presume you can connect the dots at this point."
"But how did it grow to become a full-blown rebellion?"
"If our own intelligence is correct, it all started as far back as five years ago." Astaroth's expression grew graver as he delved into the details. He leaned forward; his voice was filled with frustration. "At first, we began to receive the regular transmissions from our garrisons of increased attacks. Before, it was typical raiders desperate to get loot from our fortresses. But now, year by year, more of us began to receive that typical pattern: a bunch of professionally equipped demons began to raid them. One by one, we lost all communication eventually."
"Captured?"
"Yes, with all of them in the Rebels' possession at this point." Astaroth commented as he grabbed the scroll and opened it to reveal something for Charlie. "See for yourself, your majesty."
What Duke showed was the detailed map of the Ring of Limbo, with the rebel-controlled territories and the infernal ones, and it's very bad. The map was made a month ago, and already it shows how much the Rebels control the Limbo—nearly 67% of it. The Infernal Territories are pretty much the southern edges of Limbo, where Little Limbo city is located.
Charlie's eyes widened as she examined the map, taking in the extent of the rebel-controlled territories in Limbo. The situation was worse than she had anticipated, with the rebels holding a significant majority of the ring.
"This is alarming," Charlie remarked.
"Yeah...it's very bad." Octavia commented, whistling in admiration.
"Correct, Marquise. And worst of all, we believe Heaven is involved, coordinating the rebel expansion to push us out of Limbo completely."
"Of course they are. They're Heaven, after all." Gaap sighed. "They always sought to undermine Inferno's rule, and this rebellion in Limbo provides them with an opportunity to do so."
"But it means cooperating with demons. That's very out of character for them." Octavia let out her own opinion, despite the fact that her knowledge of Heaven is very limited.
"In the Cold War between us and Heaven, each side will try to undermine the other in any way they can, Octavia. They already undermined our influence on Earth with their schemes by establishing Christianity, Islam, and the rest of the Abrahamic religions as dominant ones. And now they're financing the rebels to undermine us here in Hell. We cannot allow the rebellion to gain any more ground. That's the order I have from Lord Satan and Lady Beelzebub."
"And you want me to help you stop it?" Charlie assumed.
"Yes, your majesty. I believe it will be very beneficial for you. With you squashing the rebellion, many will hail you as the victor of that struggle against Heaven's agenda. Even so, it would be a great example for your dad to take you seriously. Think about it very deeply."
Charlie hummed, pondering it deeply. She won't lie; the rebellion in Limbo presented a significant threat to Inferno's rule, and the involvement of Heaven added another layer of complexity. But there was also a realization that dawned on Charlie.
If she could successfully put an end to the rebellion and thwart Heaven's agenda, it would not only protect Inferno but also serve as a turning point for her own journey. It would be an opportunity for her to prove her capabilities and show her father that she was capable of making a difference. And she doesn't need to exactly crush that rebellion; she is 100% sure that rebels have a grudge against her kingdom. Maybe if she can reach their hearts, there will not be any unnecessary violence.
Which is why Charlie needs to know.
"What can you tell me about the rebellion itself, Astaroth?"
"Well, for starters." Astaroth grabbed another scroll to show her the full information. "They call themselves the "Infernal Revolutionary Army," or I.R.A. for short. They are the successors of "Imp's Movement of Preservation," a terrorist organization. From what we gathered, their army consisted of disgruntled demons and dissidents, from imps to even Goetia."
"And what are their grievances? What do they hope to achieve with this rebellion?" Charlie studied the scroll, trying to grasp the motivations and goals of the rebel faction.
"Their grievances stem from a deep dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs in Inferno. At the start, they demanded such nonsense as equal rights between hellborns and imps with hellhounds. Then they wanted a full dissolution of the infernal monarchy in favor of democracy and the rule of demons! The audacity of these degenerates to dictate to us is beyond me, your majesty."
"Oh, really?! Hmm, I wonder why." Octavia sarcastically smirked, her hand on her left hip. "Corporate knock-offs, authoritarian rule over Rings, and blatant poverty based on your species... make you wonder why they would do that in the first place, huh?"
"You're a fucking pleb lover, Octavia." Gaap mocked her.
"No, Gaap. I’m a cynical and morose teenager who writes edgy songs, stuffs dead animals with sawdust and listens to equally depressing music. You, on the other hand, are a bland, elitist snob who probably pisses on bums you pass by at the grocery store."
"Better be a rich Goetia than a moody low-life bitch, Octavia."
"Says you, Cloaca."
Astaroth's eyes narrowed as two young Goetias insulted each other, patience wearing thin. He could understand their frustrations and grievances, but their bickering would only hinder their own efforts, not to mention Octavia's mockery directed at Inferno.
"Guys, come on." Charlie interjected, her voice calm. But she returned her attention to the Duke. "So, to my understanding, they're rebelling because of unfair treatment."
"I know. It sounds so stupid of them." Astaroth agreed.
"Wait, wait, hold on." Charlie showed her palms, seeing that there was more than that. "But I don't understand. Inferno is built on the ideas of defilement and rebellion. How come we can't talk with them and address the problems?"
Well, that hit Astaroth's nerve. The Duke of Goetia took a moment to compose himself after hearing what he just heard—from an heir of Inferno.
"So, you think we could just sit on the tables and discuss? Is that what you think, your majesty?"
"We can certainly try..."
"Wrong..." Astaroth's facade quickly vanished, replaced by a scowl. "You seem to forget what Inferno stands for. It was built on the principles of defilement and rebellion. But it was our rebellion against the oppressive rule of Heaven, against their control and dominance. We fought for our freedom, for the right to embrace our true nature and indulge in sin." He clenched his fists, his voice growing sharper. "But these rebel scum seek to tear down the very foundation of Inferno!"
"Maybe that's the problem, Astaroth." Charlie couldn't help but interject. "Maybe the system itself is flawed enough that demons are getting tired of it."
"You speak as if you understand the intricacies of Inferno's foundation." Astaroth shot her a scornful look. "You, a young woman, your majesty, have no idea of the sacrifices and struggles we've endured to maintain our dominance. These rebels are nothing but misguided fools. They want to dissolve the Infernal Monarchy. They talk of democracy and equal rights, but they fail to understand that Inferno is defined by the pursuit of power. They are nothing but a fifth column, created by Heaven to destroy us!"
"And what if it's not the case?"
"My point will still stand. Are we supposed to just bow down and abandon everything we stand for?" Astaroth's scowl deepened, but at least his loyalty to Inferno is evident. "You're naïve, your majesty. This rebellion is a threat to our very existence. We must crush it, not entertain their demands."
"But it makes us no better than Heaven!" Charlie argued back. "You told me before, Astaroth. All of you rebelled against the tyranny of heaven, and that was justified. HOW come when someone rebels against us, they are in the wrong and, by how you called it, "degenerative"?"
"Good point, Charlie." Octavia has to agree with that. Double standards are what she hates the most. First Loo-Loo land, then oppression of Hellhounds, and now the Inferno itself.
"Want to share with you a secret, your majesty?" Astaroth hissed, nearly at the point of insulting Charlie for her own blatant disloyalty to Hell's cause. "The reason why is simple: they are wrong, your majesty. Their way of life, their values, their beliefs... they are all wrong. But inferno is where truth truly is. The demonic way of life and our superiority are how the universe must be."
A tense silence filled the room as Astaroth and Charlie locked eyes, their differing perspectives on full display. Charlie's expression hardened as she listened to his tirade. She had hoped for a more open-minded response, a willingness to address the concerns of the rebels. But it seemed that Astaroth's loyalty to Inferno blinded him to the flaws within their own system.
"So..." Charlie once more awkwardly started. "I can see that we cannot agree. But I still want to hear: what you exactly want me to do?"
"Stop that rebellion once and for all, your majesty. Make an agreement, capture their leaders; I don't care. Just stop that nonsense in any way you can."
"And in exchange, will you reassign my hotel as royal property?" Charlie wanted to be sure; there was still a sound of doubt in the Princess's voice.
"Even I can see that it's unfair for you, your majesty." Astaroth nodded, agreeing with Charlie's disbelief. He then reached for another document and a feather pen. "But like I said, there is something I can do to help you with your hotel problem. Just sign here."
"What is that?" Charlie grabbed that paper, checking the content.
"Essentially, this paper is a declaration that you're transferring your property into Ars Goetia's hands, your majesty. In exchange for your assistance in quelling the rebellion, we will take ownership of your hotel. It will become a royal property once more, just under Ars Goetia instead."
"You can't be serious! That's her own hotel!" Octavia's jaw dropped, her disbelief mirrored in her expression.
"Don't accuse me of ill intent if you don't see the full picture, young Octavia." Astaroth sighed. Children these days. "This is nothing but legality. Think of it like a protection agreement. Say you own a business but can't sustain it due to financial troubles. You can make a deal with an Ars Goetian noble, where he or she provides you with everything you need."
"So, it's like...the ownership is still mine, right?"
"Yes, it's still yours in the end. It's up to you and the Goetia to come up with something in exchange. Luckily for you, your majesty, I have no doubt you already have someone in mind."
"Yeah..." Charlie already sees what he means, looking at the young Marquise. "Via...could you do a favor?"
"Sure..." Octavia nodded; a smirk then formed. "By chance, will you turn your hotel into a nightclub if I ask you?"
"No." Charlie wasn't serious; she was grinning.
"Okay, fair enough. Where do I sign, Elector?"
"Just wait, young Marquise. Her majesty needs to sign it first." Astaroth laid out the paper and pen for Charlie.
Charlie took a deep breath. While the idea of signing away her hotel was difficult to accept, she recognized that it might be a necessary step, and she trusted Octavia enough that nothing would jeopardize the hotel at all.
With a determined smile, Charlie reached for the feather pen and placed it on the paper, signing her name.
"Now Octavia, sign here." Astaroth pointed to where her name should be.
Octavia took the pen from Astaroth and signed her name on the document, next to Charlie's signature. Once Octavia finished signing, Astaroth carefully collected the document and folder, securing them with a sense of finality.
"Thank you, your majesty, and young Marquise. Your cooperation is appreciated." Astaroth nodded, grabbing another pair of documents to perform his part of this whole deal. "Now, I hope you will honor your part, your majesty. I extended my hand to you, and I hope you will do it too."
"You have my word, Duke." Charlie sincerely nodded. She didn't like it, but she is not among those who do not honor the agreements.
"Good." Astaroth was busy writing it down, gesturing for his fellow elector to back him up. "Vassago, tell our newly inaugurated younglings about an opportunity."
Vassago stepped forward as Astaroth called upon him. He adjusted his cape and addressed the group, his voice clear and confident.
"Young Marquise Octavia Goetia, Prince Gaap Goetia, now that her majesty has agreed to come into Limbo, the Ars Goetia recognizes your own potential and would like to extend an offer to you. Tell me, are you familiar with why Ars Bael went to Limbo before he died?"
"Something to do with knowledge, I think." Octavia wondered.
"Correct, young Marquise. Even though Limbo is a land ravaged by war and anarchy, it still has the greatest resource for Inferno: lost artifacts of the old regime and many Heaven technologies left behind. But Ars Goetia is not interested in that; we're more interested in one specific thing."
"The Limbo's Temple of Solomon."
Vassago paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. Ironically, both Gaap and Octavia exchanged glances, this time with no resentment but confusion. The prince elector noticed the confusion on Octavia and Gaap's faces and offered a reassuring smile.
"Ahh, it seems to have got you intrigued. I understand that the mention of the Temple of Solomon may raise some questions. Allow me to explain." He took a step closer to them, his voice low and earnest. "The Temple of Solomon in Limbo is King Solomon's own legacy. It is believed to hold ancient and powerful artifacts, relics that carry immense magical potential and knowledge, all from Solomon himself."
"So that's why we barely saw Ars Bael for most of his lifetime." Gaap realized
"Yes, my nephew. Ever since we managed to make Limbo fall on its knees, Ars Bael has traveled a lot to study the library. Unfortunately, it was too late to gather much knowledge. Bael then died, and our expedition to the temple, one by one, lost all contact with us."
"You're asking us to retrieve these artifacts?" Octavia asked,
"No...but something even better." Vassago's gaze shifted between Octavia and Gaap as he spoke. "The Ars Goetia, particularly King Paimon, is extending an offer to both of you to lead an expedition into the Temple in order to find the Original Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis: The Lesser Key of Solomon."
Octavia and Gaap exchanged a glance, the gravity of the situation sinking in immediately for them.
"I-It...Unholy shit, it actually exists?!" Octavia was shocked.
"Oh, yeah. It existed right under our own noses." Vassago nodded.
"If the Lesser Keys of Solomon exist, then it can change everything for Ars Goetia! It is an opportunity we cannot pass up!" Gaap hyped.
"I have to agree with Gaap. If the Temple holds such powerful knowledge, we cannot let it go to waste!"
Charlie smirked. It seems that Gaap and Octavia are united here, under the love of knowledge of occultism and magical arts. Although Stolas was silent in the conversation, he showed concern for Octavia. The Lesser Keys of Solomon were mentioned many times when he was Prince of Goetia. He won't deny that a thought of Octavia, who will manage to get that legendary book for Ars Goetia, made him so happy and proud. At the same time, this is the Ring of Limbo, where insanity rules up there.
Vassago's smile widened at their enthusiastic response. "Indeed, Marquise Octavia and Prince Gaap, the existence of the Original Lesser Key of Solomon is a rare opportunity that cannot be overlooked by us."
"Which is why I believe we could work like this." Astaroth interjected. "Marquise Octavia, Prince Gaap, if you accept our offer, join our Princess of Heir on her journey to Limbo. Help her with the rebellion, then bring us the artifact back to the Lemegeton. Do this, and you both will go into the history of the Ars Goetian chronicles. Even if you fail and don't get that artifact, you will still show your dedication. For that, the possibility of becoming an elector under Ars Paimon will be possible for both of you."
Octavia and Gaap listened attentively to Astaroth's proposal. The idea of joining Charlie on her journey to Limbo and assisting with the rebellion resonated with them. It was an opportunity not only to contribute to the cause but also to further their own goals within Ars Goetia. But there is still a major problem with both of them.
"So, Gaap." Octavia began, giving him a sincere look. "Can I really trust you after you tried to kill my parents?"
"Oh, please, Octavia." Gaap waved her off. "You heard our electorate already. This goes beyond our petty infighting between you and me. I, for one, am ready to work with you by retrieving that artifact from Limbo...can you?"
Octavia crossed her arms, staring at Gaap's smug eyes. There was an awkward silence before Octavia let it be known. Taking a deep breath, she looked into Gaap's eyes.
"Very well, Gaap. I will choose to trust you for now. But let me be clear: one wrong move, and our cooperation is over."
Gaap rolled his eyes but nevertheless honored it by not saying mean words to Octavia. Vassago observed the exchange with a sense of satisfaction.
"I am glad to see both of you willing to put aside your differences and work together. I have faith that you can overcome your past conflicts and focus on the task at hand. You can also hire additional bodyguards if needed."
"What about me?" Charlie asked.
"Well, both Gaap and Octavia are technically yours. As far as I've heard, you're a pretty capable fighter, your majesty." Astaroth presumed.
"Can I at least bring some of my own friends?"
"Are they sinners?"
"Yeah..."
"Then afraid not, your majesty. Even though Limbo suffers from a lack of law appliances, it is still the de jure part of Inferno, and thus the laws on forbidding the sinners on the other rings also apply in Limbo."
"It would have been helpful to have some familiar faces around." Charlie sighed, disappointed by the restrictions. But there is nothing she can do. "Nonetheless, I'm gladly accept Octavia's companionship. So...where should I start?"
"For starters, since Limbo doesn't have the Hell Elevator, every week we transport our reinforcement from Acheron City, Pride Ring, to Little Limbo through the "Infernal Express". Go to the Acheron Central Station on 25 Heartfire at 21:00 PM, and you will be directed to the train. Once you, Gaap, and Octavia reach Little Limbo, head to the castle on the hill; that's Marchosias Goetia's own residence. He will provide you with a safe place and further information regarding the situation in Limbo."
"Got it... anything else?"
"Just one thing for our Goetias. Gaap, Octavia, if you have any specific demons you want to hire, inform me, for I have to make a brief history check on them in order for them to be accepted for Limbo transfer. That aside, I'm very delighted to see an heir of Inferno joining our fight against the insanity of Limbo. Know this: today you earned another loyal vassal, for I shall always be by your side as soon as you take your throne, your majesty."
"And thank you for your support, Lord Astaroth." As their meeting with Astaroth came to an end, Charlie rose from her seat. With those parting words, she turned to Octavia. "Shall we...my new investor?"
"Very funny, your majesty." Octavia dully joked, but she, nevertheless, with Stolas, followed her dearest friend to the office. After they left Astaroth's office, Gaap and Vassago nodded to the Elector Duke before leaving him alone.
Alone in his office, Astaroth waited a few minutes to be sure they were far away from his office and let out a deep sigh. He reached for his phone and dialed another specific number, bringing it to his ear.
...
"Your Majesty of Gluttony, your Loyal Duke is calling."
...
"Yes, I have something: your niece from Lucifer is joining the Limbonian Crisis."
...
"No, she is none the wiser."
...
"Understood, she will do just fine for Satan's own goals."
...
"Yes, my queen. I will proceed forward with my planning. For the Dominion of Gluttony."
*Hang up*
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/In the Streets of Lemegeton
As the sun nearly disappeared over the horizon of the sprawling city of Lemegeton, its streets became less alive with Goetia demons. Most lanterns have since been lifted, allowing a vibrant light to illuminate the cultural wonder of Hell.
Amidst the streets, Charlie, Octavia, and Stolas walked side by side, making their way through the streets to reach Phenex, who waited for Octavia to finish with her meeting with Astaroth. Charlie's nervous expression had softened into a concerned one, while Octavia listened to the music through her own earbuds while her left ear was open in case Charlie would speak. Stolas, ever watchful, kept a close eye on them, just in case. The trio attracted some curious glances and whispers, their presence not going unnoticed among the Goetian citizens of Lemegeton.
"So, one obstacle is gone; another appears." Charlie remarked, breaking the silence. "And this time, we're embarking on a different kind of journey."
"Nothing is easy. It has been one helluva day for two of us... and are you still sure about going to Limbo?" Octavia asked, her voice laced with genuine concern. "I mean, we've heard from the Duke about the chaos and madness that reigns there. Are you prepared for what awaits us?"
"I won't lie, Octavia. I'm more worried for you." Charlie paused for a moment, her eyes meeting Octavia's gaze. "There is no need to get yourself involved in my own problems."
"She is right, Via. It's not a child's game." Stolas, too, nodded to Charlie's reasonable concern. Even the ex-Prince is deeply worried by the Marquise's own decision.
Octavia sighed in agony, annoyed that she wasn't taken seriously by them.
"I appreciate your concern, both of you. But I am not a child anymore. I've made my choice, and I'm prepared to face whatever awaits us in Limbo. I want to be by your side, Charlie, to support you on your way."
"Via, just because I saved your parents doesn't mean you have to throw yourself into the nearest bear trap for me. I can take care of myself." Charlie argued, hoping that Octavia sees all the ups and downs of this whole trip.
"I know you can take care of yourself, Charlie. But that doesn't mean I can't be there for you. We're a team, remember?" Octavia's words held a sense of conviction. "Plus, I'm not some damsel in distress; I can take care of myself with spells that I've already learned with ease. Plus, having the Lesser Key of Solomon will be worth all the trouble."
"Via..." Stolas again sounded concerned.
"What now, Dad?!" Octavia complained. "You heard the Duke! Think about it, all the knowledge in that book, all the possible spells that the entire Goetia doesn't know. Think what it can do!"
"That stupid book doesn't concern me, it's you with whom I'm concerned." Stolas took a deep breath, shaking his head. "Starfire, it's you who is my most valuable treasure. You are a bright and talented young demon with a bright future ahead of you. Your safety and well-being are of utmost importance to me, more than anything else."
Octavia's expression softened, realizing the depth of her father's worry. She lowered her eyes, somewhat disappointed at herself for saying this stuff.
"You know, I remember the days every time I was afraid you would abandon me. Today, I know it was foolish of me to think that way, dad. But...please understand, it's my responsibility. I do want to be with you, but I also want to make my own choices, my own decisions, my own wishes, and my own independence." She stepped closer to him and reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "Dad, I understand your fear. But I've made my decision. I believe in Charlie, and I believe in myself. I won't let fear hold me back from doing what I can."
There was a sincere silence as Stolas's somber face looked down. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking it hard. At times, he wished to have the chance to fix everything between him and his own child. Stolas opened his eyes, his gaze filled with a mixture of love and regret. He placed a gentle hand on Octavia's, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"You still need at least a few friends to watch your back, Octavia."
"Stolas is not wrong, Via." Charlie has to agree with the ex-prince's concern. "A couple of friends would not hurt to watch your back."
"Well, any ideas then?" Octavia wanted his advice. Stolas smiled more at this, and Octavia immediately realized who he meant. "Seriously, dad... them ?"
"What's wrong with them?" Stolas was a little surprised that Via still doesn't appreciate their old friends.
"It's just...no offense to you, Dad, but I really don't like him . I respect your privacy and pursuit of happiness with him, but I still don't like his manners."
"I know, Via. But he and his team have a history with you. It's better them than some random mercenaries that you don't know of, with the risk of them betraying you."
"Yeah, I see your point." Octavia had to agree with that. She took another deep breath before asking next. "Could you help me get them to join me? I'm not very good with deal-making like you are, Dad."
"Of course, Via. I was planning to inform Astaroth about this after you departed Lemegeton." Stolas gave Octavia's hand another reassuring squeeze. "I know it's not easy for you, my Starfire, but I appreciate your willingness to trust me."
"I know, Dad." Octavia managed a small smile, appreciating her father's willingness. "And thank you for doing this for me."
As the words lingered in the air, Octavia took a step closer to Stolas. Without hesitation, she embraced her father, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Stolas, caught off guard for a moment, quickly reciprocated the embrace, holding Octavia close. The worries and regrets he had carried within him seemed to melt away in that tender moment. He closed his eyes, savoring the precious moment with his daughter.
The streets of Lemegeton faded into the background as their embrace held them in an intimate sanctuary. Time stood still, allowing them to cherish the closeness they had always longed for. For a brief moment, they found solace in each other's arms, finding strength and comfort in their shared bond.
When they finally released their embrace, Stolas still held her arms, looking proudly at Octavia...her crown really suits her.
"I'm so proud of you today, Via...seeing you as the 36th Spirit of Ars Goetia, you made this owl's heart beat so hard in pride."
Octavia couldn't help but blush at her father's words, feeling a swell of pride within her. She had often yearned for her father's approval, and hearing his words of pride meant the world to her.
"Thank you, Dad," Octavia replied, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "You've always believed in me, even when I doubted you...and screamed at you."
Stolas's smile widened as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind Octavia's ear. "You are capable of so much more than you realize, my starfire. I have no doubt you will be far better than me in every possible way. But don't be afraid to ask me. If you ever need guidance, you know where to find me." Stolas' gaze shifted to Charlie, who stood beside them, wearing a soft smile. "And you, your majesty Charlie. I'm grateful to you for having Octavia by your side."
"Hey, it's nothing, Stolas." Charlie returned it with warmth as she nodded. "I'll always be here for Octavia. We're in this together."
Stolas then released Octavia's arms, taking a step back but keeping a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'll make the necessary arrangements, my dear. I'm sure they will be more than willing to assist you. I’ll see you tonight after I’m done, okay? Have a safe portal home."
"I will, dad. Thanks."
Stolas leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Octavia's forehead. "My love for you knows no bounds. Stay safe for me, will ya?"
With a final squeeze of her shoulder, Stolas turned and began walking towards Astaroth's office to make the necessary arrangements, but Octavia made him stop in his tracks.
“Dad! Wait, I forgot to ask.”
Stolas turned around to see his daughter again. She awkwardly tries to find the right words, her young emotional owlet side still present. “After you’re done with Astaroth, can we...watch the stars again? Like we used to do?”
Stolas felt taken back with emotion by his daughter’s request. Has it been so long since they last did this?
“Of course, Starfire. Anything for you.” Stolas said with fatherly softness, seeing his daughter’s attempt to make up for trying to avoid him this day.
After giving Via one last wave, he turned around and made his way to Astaroth for further business.
Octavia and Charlie watched him go, and Charlie then asked.
"Seems you get along with your dad very well, Via."
"Yes, we've come a long way." Octavia smiled and nodded. Even now, she finds it amusing how far they've come. "It hasn't always been easy, you know, but we've learned to understand and support each other. Before, he treated me like I was still 3 years old, but now he respects me fully as an adult, Goetia."
"He cares for you, Via. It's just what fathers do."
"I know...and I have been a bad daughter to him as well." Octavia sounded regretful; she has to understand she is not innocent at all. "Many times, I let my angsty emotions cloud my mind about him, even though everything he did was for me."
"We all make mistakes, Octavia. Your father understands that too, and he's proud of the person you've become."
Charlie's words resonated with Octavia, and she nodded, accepting the truth in them. "Did...did you ever feel something you regretted deeply in your life, Charlie?"
Charlie's expression turned solemn as she contemplated Octavia's question. She took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding, looking at her bandaged hand and squeezing it into a fist.
"A lot, Via...and even now I doubt myself a lot. Can't help it, really."
"If you ever need to talk about something, just holla....I know I can be moody and snarky, but I can be a good listener any time, Charlie."
"Heh, duly noted, Marquise Octavia." Charlie chuckled, still glad for her support. "Let's see our Marquise-Elector, shall we?"
With a shared understanding, Octavia and Charlie continued their walk towards the nearest gate of Lemegeton. Most of their walk was not eventful, with them mostly chatting about the music in their spare time.
Eventually, Octavia and Charlie stepped through the gate exit, leaving behind Lemegeton. Phenex was obviously already there, waiting for Octavia near the parked limousine and talking to one of her Legionaries.
"♪ - Make sure to double the security around my castle for the rest of the weekend. I don't want any surprises or anything else that discomforts Marquis Shax, hmm yes. ♪"
"Yes, my Elector." Phenex's legionnaire bowed his head before stepping aside obediently, seeing that another Marquise was arriving.
Octavia approached Phenex with a warm smile on her face. Charlie stood by her side, offering a respectful nod to Phenex and the legionnaire before stepping back slightly to give Octavia space. Phenex turned her attention towards Octavia, her sharp eyes taking in the young Goetia's presence.
"♪ Ah, why hello again, my Via. How it go down with Astaroth? ♪"
"One word, lesser key of Solomon, Aunt."
"♪ Hm, charming name...albeit intriguing. ♪"
Octavia chuckled softly at Phenex's response before going serious once more.
"But in all seriousness, it was an eventful talk, to say the least, Aunt. Basically, Our Majesty will be crushing some rebellion, and me and Gaap will find the original lesser key of Solomon."
Phenex actually raised an eyebrow at this.
"♪ Oh, do tell me more, my Via. ♪" Phenex replied, her curiosity evident in her voice. "♪ That sounds like quite the undertaking. ♪"
Octavia took a moment to gather her thoughts.
"Well, you see, Charlie has a problem with Hotel. And she made a deal with Astaroth in exchange for quelling this rebellion swiftly and decisively in Limbo."
"♪ And the original lesser key of Solomon, ♪" Phenex interjected, her voice tinged with curiosity. "♪ How does it fit into all of this? ♪"
"Apparently, the original lesser key of Solomon is located in the Ring of Limbo, under our own noses. Astaroth offered me and Gaap the opportunity to retrieve it."
"♪ And you agreed, yes hmm? ♪"
"Yeah...seriously, Aunt. If it exists, it will be worth getting it. Plus, I've never been to Limbo, so it will be a nice change of scenery."
"♪ Hmm, I see... ♪" Phenex murmured thoughtfully; her eyes twinkled with curiosity. ♪ It is a worthy goal, my Via. ♪"
Octavia nodded, appreciating Phenex's understanding and support. The Marquise-Elector's approval meant a great deal to her...still surprising that she didn't object.
"Weird how you're okay with that, Aunt. Dad has been fully negative about my decision."
"♪ Oh, don't get me wrong, Via. I'm also concerned, but since that's your decision, who am I to argue? And I know our majesty is capable, so you're in good hands, and I'm confident you will return home. ♪ "
"Thank you, Aunt," Octavia replied respectfully, happy that Phenex honored her wish. "I think that I might show up to your place sometime tomorrow, if it really gets too much with dad’s work in changing ownership. I will share the rest of what Astaroth said to me when I arrive at your place. But I really mean it that I want to be in my own bed tonight."
"♪ Of course, Via. You’re free to show up anytime; just make the call and I’ll send you a ride." Phenex nodded before directing her attention to the silent Princess of Hell. "♪ Well, I will leave you two to say goodbye. All the best to you, your majesty. ♪ "
"You as well, Marquis Phenex." Charlie returned the honor.
Phenex smiled, silently giving one final bow before she made her way to the limousine, stepping inside. Octavia watched as Phenex’ limo drove off back towards Pride Ring, her thoughts still lingering on the conversation they had just had. She appreciated Phenex's understanding.
"Well, I guess this is where we part ways." Octavia began, turning her attention back to Charlie. Even in the Valley of Ars Belial, she knew that their time together would be brief, and saying goodbye was never easy.
"It would seem so..." Charlie nodded gratefully. "But it's been an interesting time with you, Via."
"That's an understatement. From the tomb to the funeral pyre and ending it with you stopping the conspiracy on me...either fate plays with you or you're the unluckiest demon in Hell, Charlie...and I can't thank you enough for being by my side throughout all of this. Your support and friendship mean the Hell to me."
"You don't have to thank me, Via. We'll always have each other's backs."
"I know...and I'm grateful for that." Octavia returned the sweetness. They stood there for a moment, taking in each other's presence, before Octavia's gaze shifted to the waiting limousine. "Well, I suppose it's time for me to go...text me, alright? Take care of yourself."
Charlie's expression softened, and she reached out to give Octavia a hug. "You too, Via. See you in Acheron next week."
Octavia returned the hug, savoring the moment. With one final squeeze, they reluctantly released each other, and Octavia turned towards the road. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
“Bring me home.”
Octavia’s hands glow a pinkish-purple hue. She opened her eyes and waved her right hand, tearing the fracture of space, forming a portal. It was less perfect than the ones Charlie was used to when she and her father made them, but it did its job, showing the front steps of her mansion in Imp City. As she stepped into the portal, she looked back one last time at Charlie, offering a smile and a wave, which closed the portal, leaving Charlie behind.
Charlie stood there for a moment, her gaze lingering on the spot where Octavia had stood. No words were needed as Charlie simply released a breath and walked away, going back to the village she and Octavia crossed on their way. Nothing much, with many stalls already closed.
In due time, Charlie would return to where Cain and Razzle should wait, and funnily enough, she would find Cain...snorting very loudly while her living toy slept on his legs.
" *Snorts* ...No, Dad. It goes here, not there.... *Snorts* I'm fucking a farmer, that's why... *Snorts* No, it's *Incoherent mumbling* - fuck you, Abel."
Chuckling softly to herself, Charlie approached Cain, careful not to wake the slumbering Razzle. She carefully grabbed him from Cain's legs and then gently bent a bit to poke Cain's face.
" *Snort* Huh, wha-AM I MY BROTHER'S KEEPER?!" Cain immediately stood, fists ready for a fight, only to realize that it was Charlie standing in front of him. "For blood's sake. What the fuck took you so long?!"
"Oh, you know...stopping a Goetian conspiracy plot...nothing unusual."
"No shit...what are you, Mother Theresa, now?"
"Who?" Charlie asked, rubbing Razzle’s head in the meantime.
"Nevermind..." The joke didn't land, so Cain let it go, but he noticed that someone was missing. "Where is that goth chick, Olivia?"
"That "goth chick" is Octavia, Cain." Charlie chuckled at Cain's remark, shaking her head in amusement. “And she left on her own."
"Probably to write another depressed poem or some shit." Cain remarked with a grin, fixing his tie.
"Cain..." Charlie didn't like it, asking him kindly not to be like this.
"Alright fine...so are we done with the Goetian snobs?"
"Not quite, but yeah...I will tell you on our way. Let's go home."
"FUCK YEAH, FINALLY!" Cain screamed in joy; any hour after that, he would have killed himself from boredom.
Charlie sighed, ignoring Cain's antics as she went to his car. The First Vampire didn't waste any time and eagerly got himself into the driver's seat. She settled into the passenger seat, with Razzle nestled comfortably beside her. She fastened her seatbelt and looked over at Cain, who was already seated in the driver's seat, his excitement palpable.
"Ready to go, Cain?" Charlie asked, a small smile playing on her lips...somewhat happy that it's finally over.
"Yep, let's get out of here!" Cain revved the engine, his grin widening.
With a screech of tires, the car sped off, leaving the village behind and Lemegeton with them, and back to Pride Ring they went.
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City/The Hazbin Hotel/Living room
*At least one hour later*
In the cozy recreational room of the Hazbin Hotel, Vaggie, Angel Dust, and Husk found themselves engrossed in a heated game of "Mammonopoly". The board was spread out before them, colorful banknotes scattered across the table, and their game pieces strategically positioned on the properties they had acquired.
Vaggie, with her competitive spirit, leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the board. She had amassed a small fortune in properties and was determined to maintain her lead. Her fingers tapped impatiently on the table as she waited for her turn.
Angel Dust, lounging on the couch with a mischievous grin, casually tossed the dice in his clawed hand. He had a devilish reputation for unpredictability, and his focus seemed to be more on entertaining himself and teasing the others than on winning the game. His flashy purple game piece was perched on a prime property, waiting to collect rent from unsuspecting opponents.
Meanwhile, Husk, with a half-empty glass of whiskey by his side, observed the unfolding game with a detached look. He was silently strategizing his next move, his grizzled appearance hiding the keen intellect of a veteran soldier.
"My turn." Vaggie rolled the dice and moved her game piece, her eyes scanning the property she landed on. "Yes! Boardwalk!"
"Oh ya got to to be kidding me!" Angel Dust complained.
"Looks like luck is on my side today." Vaggie chuckled confidently, reveling in her victory.
"Well, just ya wait. Ya haven't seen the last of the great Angel Dust!" Angel Dust's confidence was contagious as he eagerly grabbed the dice and prepared for his turn.
With a flick of his wrist, he let the dice soar through the air, his spider eyes following their every roll. The numbers on the dice aligned in his favor, and a wide grin spread across his face.
"Holy shit! Didja see dat? I landed on Park Place and rolled doubles!" Angel Dust exclaimed, his excitement palpable. "Dat means... a jackpot!"
Vaggie and Husk exchanged glances. They then leaned in closer, watching as he calculated the rent he would receive from his fortunate position.
"Let's see... Boardwalk and Park Place with hotels... dat's... wait for it... a whoppin' fifty thousand souls!" Angel Dust announced triumphantly, revelin' in his extravagant victory.
"No way!" Vaggie's jaw dropped, stunned by the enormous sum. "Are you serious? That's... that's not fair!"
"Nothin' in dis game is fair, taco mouth." Angel Dust replied with a sly grin, reveling in his moment of triumph. "Ya gotta play dirty if ya wanna win big."
Vaggie grumbled, controlling herself to not scream at him. But nevertheless, it was Husk's round to play. Angel Dust, always the provocateur, couldn't resist pushing Husk's buttons.
"Need a little...extra motivation to make your move, Husky?" Angel Dust purred, his voice dripping with suggestive undertones.
Husk shot him a deadpan stare. Angel Dust chuckled, his laughter laced with playful rebellion.
"Oh, come on, Husky. Where's your sense of adventure? Don't you want a taste of the wild side?"
"No..." Was Husk's simple answer as he reached for the dice, ready to make his move. "I'm more interested in kickin' your sorry ass in this game. Let's see what Lady Luck has in store for me."
With a flick of his wrist, Husk sent the dice tumbling across the board. They bounced and rolled, seemingly taking their sweet time before finally coming to a rest.
...
"By Al Capone's baldness, no fuckin' way..." Angel Dust's eyes widened as he saw the numbers on the dice.
"You were saying before, kinky boots?" Husk leaned back in his chair, relishing the moment as he locked eyes with Angel Dust. His voice low and steady, he delivered his final blow.
Angel Dust stared at the dice in disbelief, his spider eyes darting back and forth between them and Husk's bland but triumphant expression. Angel Dust's usual confidence was momentarily shattered, replaced with a mix of frustration and begrudging admiration for Husk's skill. He sighed and shook his head, accepting the loss with a reluctant grin.
"Alright, you got me this time," Angel Dust admitted, his voice laced with a hint of admiration. "But don't think this is the last you've seen of the great Angel Dust. I'll bounce back, just you wait."
"You do nothing but "bounce back" these days, Spider." Vaggie smirked with a mocking grin.
"Says you, Mothy. If ya gotta be jealous, then do it silently....or do it to Cha-cha if she will ever comeback..."
"Don't be mean to her, Angie."
Trio got startled, turning their eyes in the direction the voice came...and of course, Charlie was already there, leaning her shoulder against the wall as she watched their game in silence. Even Razzle showed himself, surprising Vaggie a lot.
"Hon!" Vaggie exclaimed, immediately getting up to give her love the warmest hug. Charlie smiled at Vaggie's affectionate greeting and returned the hug with equal warmth.
"Well, well, if it ain't the princess herself. Joinin' us for some Mammonopoly fun?" Angel Dust teased, motioning for Charlie to take a seat.
"Thanks for the invite, Angie. But I have to decline it" Charlie released Vaggie, still her hand on Vaggie's shoulder. Vaggie didn't forget Razzle and rubbed his belly, so happy to see him alive and well. "I'm very tired, so...maybe tomorrow I will tell you all of my adventures."
"Suit yourself...Vags?" Angel just wanted to be sure.
"Sorry, Angel. But Maybe, later. I will need to talk with Charlie first. Razzle can replace me if he wants."
Razzle eagerly rushed towards the table, landing on it with a soft flutter of his wings, ready to take on the role of player in their game. Angel Dust and Husk exchanged knowing glances, realizing that with Razzle joining the game, the competition was about to get tougher.
"Looks like things are about to get interesting," Angel Dust remarked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Better buckle up, goat boy."
Husk hummed, taking a sip of his whiskey before placing the glass back down. "I've dealt with worse odds on the battlefield. Let's see what this little troublemaker can bring to the table."
Charlie, Vaggie, watched the unfolding game with a smile. She was content to enjoy the company and witness the fierce yet lighthearted competition between her friends. As the dice rolled, properties were bought and traded, and fortunes rose and fell, the Hazbin Hotel's recreational room transformed into a battleground of strategy and cunning...a nice change of pace for Charlie.
For now...
In the midst of the game, Charlie turned to Vaggie and softly whispered, "Vaggie...could you and I talk in our room?"
Vaggie looked at Charlie, concern evident in her eyes. She nodded understandingly and gently squeezed Charlie's hand.
"Of course, Charlie. Let's go to our room."
The two of them excused themselves from the game, leaving Angel Dust and Husk to continue their competitive banter with Razzle. The Spider Demon grinned even more, whistling at this.
"What's so funny, you kinky fuck?" Husk raised his eyebrow.
"Oh, nothing, my sexy whiskers. I just know where is it going..."
"And what exactly?"
"Lesbian Sexy Times...every dream for straight guys out there..."
Taking a few floors up, Vaggie and Charlie made their way to their shared room, finding a moment of privacy in between. Once inside, Vaggie closed the door behind them, creating a sense of intimacy and seclusion. Charlie sat on their bed, staring solemnly at the floor. Vaggie gently took the nearest chair and joined it, already seeing that something was bothering Charlie. It has to be one of those talks about the hotel.
"Charlie, I can tell something's been on your mind. You can talk to me about anything; you know that, right?" Vaggie said softly, reaching out for Charlie's leg to lay her own hand on it, supporting her love with anything she could.
"I'm very happy to announce that I've managed to fix my dad's screw-up. We once more are royal property and free of financial burden." Charlie expressed barely any enthusiasm. Normally she should have been very energetic, happy, and even singing right now, but that wasn't the case.
Vaggie's concern deepened as she listened to Charlie's subdued tone. She gently squeezed Charlie's leg, offering her a reassuring touch.
"That's wonderful news, Charlie. You've worked so hard to turn the hotel around; I'm proud of you," Vaggie said sincerely, her voice filled with love and support. "But... I can sense there's something else weighing on you. What's bothering you, sweetheart?"
"Everything really, Vaggie." Charlie sighed. "You fix one problem, and another rises."
"Which is?"
"I was forced to now participate in quelling a rebellion in the Ring of Limbo."
Vaggie's eyebrows furrowed in surprise and concern as Charlie revealed her involvement in quelling a rebellion in the Ring of Limbo. She leaned forward, her grip on Charlie's leg tightening slightly.
"Let me guess...Goetia got greedy, huh?"
"Yeah..."
"I'm not surprised...slezzy bastards is what they are." Vaggie shook her head as she glanced at her Exorcist spear near their drawer... she is familiar with them.
"Yeah, those Goetia demons can be real troublemakers..." Charlie nodded, her face expressionless but determined. "My own friend in Goetia got it worst. They tried to make her an orphan, Vaggie..."
"Jesus..." Vaggie's eyes widened in shock and anger. "That's despicable. How could they do something like that? No one should ever have to go through something like that. I'm so sorry, Charlie."
"I know...that's why I had to intervene. I couldn't just stand by and let them hurt her family. No one deserves to be torn apart like that." Charlie managed a small smile at Vaggie's words, grateful for her understanding and support.
"And that's why Pride Ring needs you, Charlie. It's only you who can redeem all of us..." Vaggie proudly smiled at Charlie's good deed.
Charlie once more closed her eyes, doubt setting in her mind. Vaggie noticed the doubt creeping into Charlie's expression and immediately leaned forward once more.
"Your Dad's own words still hurt you?"
"A lot..." Charlie shook her head. "It's been five years, Vaggie. Alastor's shenanigans, our fighting with the Vees, saving Baxter and Crymini....and still there was not any progress on redeeming them."
"It's a long road for us, Charlie. You and I knew it from the start."
"No, I didn't..." Charlie had to disagree. "Mom was right...I rush things; I do not think ahead of myself. I never did, Vaggie"
Vaggie listened attentively as Charlie expressed her frustrations and doubts about the lack of progress in redeeming the souls of Hell. She reached out and gently took Charlie's hand, holding it firmly for support.
"Charlie, change takes time. It's not something that can happen overnight, especially when we're dealing with decades of ingrained behaviors and beliefs. I know it's frustrating, but we have to keep trying. Every small act of kindness, every soul we help, matters. And let's not forget the progress we've made. Look at Angel, for example. He's come a long way since he first arrived at the hotel. It's proof that change is possible."
Charlie remained silent, only glancing at Vaggie once. The Moth Demon would come closer and sit on the bed, just left of Charlie.
"So...what's about Limbo?"
"Once more, I have to leave you all, Vaggie. I promised I would honor Goetia's agreement in exchange for stopping the rebellion."
"You mean the whole I.R.A. incursion?"
"Y-yes?" Charlie stammered, surprised that Vaggie knew it. "How do you know?"
"I heard a couple of Imps talking, that's all. I don't know what's happening in Limbo in detail, but I understand it's very bad up there."
"It is..." Charlie slowly nodded. "And I can't take you all...I would love too, but... I can't break my dad's rules."
"I understand..." Vaggie showed no bitterness in her voice. "Do what you must do. At the end of the day, you're a princess of Hell, after all."
"Yeah...a princess of the kingdom with double standards." Charlie cursed. She looked directly into Vaggie's eye, her voice trembling with intensity. "I've had enough, Vaggie. Enough of my dad's bullshit."
Vaggie listened attentively, her eyes locked on Charlie's, recognizing the fire in her words.
"Sometimes..." Charlie took a deep breath. Her frustration and anger began to bubble to the surface. "I wonder if my dad is a thorn in my side in every single problem I've faced when it comes to redeeming sinners. It's like he's intentionally trying to sabotage any progress we make. He dares to berate my ideas, my work, my pride while he sits on his couch and does nothing for my people. He's content with the way things are, with the suffering and torment. It's sickening, and I can't stand for it anymore."
There was a brief pause as Charlie breathed deeply, completely frustrated. Even Vaggie knows how much Charlie is not being herself.
"Are you...d o you hate your father, Charlie?"
Charlie's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by Vaggie's sudden question.
"What? No, of course not!" She exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously. "I-I-I mean I-...I DON'T KNOW It's-"
The Princess of Hell covered her face, losing herself. She can't understand what is happening. Before, she was full of energy, kindness, and happiness, but now more and more, she is loosening herself, like that old Charlie is getting erased and replaced with a different one.
Bitter
Angry
Full of hatred
...
What is really happening with her?
"Shh, it's alright." Vaggie would come and gently place a kiss on Charlie's lips. "You're stressed out; that's why. You worry too much for the rest of us."
"I can't, Vaggie...I can't stop myself from worrying."
"I know...that's why I love you so much, Mi ángel de la redención." Vaggie only smiled more; she gently brought her lips to Charlie's, making it very slow and deep, with nothing but passion and not worrying about what was all around them.
Charlie squeezed her own hand as Vaggie's lips met hers, but she relaxed, melting herself in their kiss. The room seemed to fade away as Charlie succumbed to the warmth and tenderness of Vaggie's kiss. The worries and frustrations momentarily disappeared, replaced by a sense of peace and love that only Vaggie could bring.
Their lips moved together in perfect harmony, their kiss deepening with each passing moment. It was a passionate exchange, filled with a longing to escape from the burdens that weighed on their shoulders. In this intimate moment, Charlie found solace in Vaggie's embrace.
And much more...
Vaggie and Charlie wrapped around each other, caressing their bodies as they didn't let go of each other for a second. Their kisses turned into hot moans of making out, with the room temperature ever so slightly growing hotter for them. The Moth Demon trailed her fingers from Charlie's waist to the shoulder before gently getting them to the buttons and unbuttoning one of them.
Charlie immediately pulled her lips from Vaggie's, slightly shocked. "Oh, Wow...I didn't think we would do this today."
"You don't want to?" Vaggie asked, smiling with assurance that she was okay if Charlie did not want this.
"No-no, of course not. I do want that with you. It's just that between the hotel and everything that happened, we could not spend proper time together."
"Charlie..." Vaggie cooed, bringing her finger to Charlie's cheek and cupping it. "You have been chasing rainbows for so many years...even you can get tired of it. But at times, you just need to relax and have some breaktime... the Hotel won't run away from you. We'll always be with you, Charlie. No matter if you're in Limbo right now or not."
Charlie lowered her eyes, still holding her hands on Vaggie's shoulder. But ultimately, she missed these days, when there weren't any worries, concerns, or Charlie doing the absolute impossible—just her and Vaggie—and nothing mattered for her.
"Let us cherish those moments...before a storm shall brew over us once more...I love you, Vaggie. I'm eternally yours."
Vaggie's eyes softened as she listened to Charlie's words, feeling the depth of her love and dedication. She gently brushed her thumb against Charlie's cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped.
"I love you too, Charlie. And I'm here for you, no matter what storms may come our way."
Charlie leaned in, resting her forehead against Vaggie's, their breaths intermingling in the intimate space between them. In that moment, the weight of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only their love all around them. They once again resumed their time together, with no boundaries between them—not even their clothes.
Between their moans and kisses, Vaggie unbuttoned the rest of Charlie's buttons, with the princess letting her coat fall from her shoulders. Charlie too freed Vaggie from the burden of a red blouse with a dark slate-gray collar on her, letting it fall off.
It wouldn't be long before they found themselves only in their underwear, as at this point neither could hold together, for King Asmodeus blessed them to have some quiet time.
Charlie pushed Vaggie to the bed, with her getting on top of her and crawling to the Moth Demon like a predator on her. They met their eyes once more, smiling at each other with nothing but love. Charlie lowered herself, hungry once more for the Vaggie's lips...and it's just the beginning of the night.
Just a few floors below, Angel, Husk and Razzle, continued their game. The Spider Demon obviously knew where these two were going.
*Distant Bed Creak*
Yep, he was right.
"What's so funny now?" Husk noticed Angel's unexpected grin, so he opted to ask.
"Told ya, didn't I?" Angel Dust's eyes met his, and he grinned even more.
Husk blinked once...and answered the best way he could.
"Fuck off."
Chapter 29: One Helluva Boss
Summary:
"Life's a circus, I'm the clown" - JonTron
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
September 22, 2025, AD (102 Days Before the Next Purge), 21:12 PM.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Imp City
The differences were noticeable from the get-go.
Coming from Lemegeton was somewhat...uneasy, like stepping into a different world altogether. Unlike Lemegeton, Imp City is a metropolis that has fallen from grace. The city's structures stood as crumbling remnants with faded facades and broken windows. The streets were lined with dilapidated buildings, their walls covered in layers of grime and despair. Imp City, since its founding in 1981, had become a haven for the forgotten, a shabby metropolitan landscape where destitution thrived.
In the typical taxicab of Imp City, Stolas gazed out of the window, deep in thought, as the taxi transported him to the destination he ordered.
For nearly all of his life, Stolas never had to work to survive. He lived in full luxury, with no worry whatsoever. But that all changed after what happened in Lemegeton today. Stolas, a prince of Hell, or rather just Stolas from now on, found himself in a new life, no longer benefiting from his status and wealth and forced to face the harsh realities of life in Hell.
Let's hope that his dearest love will accept him.
But for now, it's Octavia that concerns him the most.
The ex-Prince of Goetia doesn't have to be ignorant to see how much his daughter and his lover despise each other. Their disdain for each other was palpable, causing a lot of discomfort for both of them. Stolas had hoped that over time they would find common ground or at least tolerate each other for his sake. But as the divide between them didn't ease up, he felt a sense of helplessness and guilt for being the cause of their discord.
And then there was him—the love of his life. Their relationship had been complicated from the start, given the circumstances surrounding their connection. His own love had always been wary of him, seeing that he just used him for his own sexual needs, something that Stolas even today regrets it, and he longed for a resolution, a way to mend the fractured relationship that plagued his life. He knew that his path to healing that relationship would not be an easy one, but he was willing to fight for it.
"We've arrived, my lord." The taxi imp driver announced it, a bit impatient.
"Thank you." Stolas took a deep breath and handed over the souls. He departed from the taxi, closing the door behind him, and the taxi immediately sped away for the next client.
Stolas stood alone on the desolate streets of Imp City, taking in the bleak surroundings. The air was heavy with despair, and the sound of distant sirens echoed through the dilapidated buildings, along with occasional gunfire and victim screaming. But that didn't matter to him.
Instead, Stolas looked up to see one specific building among the high-raised ones. It was very distinct compared to the nearest ones and somewhat beautiful to look at. Stolas could not help but smile at it. It brought back many memories.
Good old times.
"Ah, there you are, Yeoman Stolas." Astaroth announced with no emotion. A voice could be heard, making Stolas turn around. Duke-Elector Astaroth was already there, with the parked carriage and a couple of Goetian Legionaries standing guard. "I'm wondering why you took so long? Not to mention the choice of your partner to live in this city. Already, I got nearly mugged by some peasant imps here."
"It could have been quicker if you ALLOWED me to join your carriage, my Duke." Stolas slightly complained.
"Could have asked your brother Vassago for the carriage." Astaroth simply said, wasting no time, as he is a very busy Goetia. "Now tell me where that Goetiaphile operates."
Stolas sighed. Since Astaroth is a Duke-Elector, there is nothing that Stolas can do without him being sent for execution. So he just pointed his finger at the building.
"That building, my Elector." Stolas passively-aggressively returned.
"Good, yeoman. Now follow your elector to the meeting." Astaroth simply ordered.
"As you wish... (to himself), cloaca."
Stolas reluctantly followed Astaroth towards the designated meeting place, the resentment simmering within him. He couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and resignation. As much as he despised Astaroth's condescending attitude, he had to play his part for the sake of their shared goals.
The building they approached stood tall and imposing. Stolas had been here many times before, back when his status as a prince granted him access to the highest echelons of Hell's society. Although it's just a typical commercial office building, Stolas couldn't shake off the memories of his previous visits.
"Where is the receptionist?" Astaroth complained, as the entrance of the office was just a typical residential high-rise building. Left and right were just some doors with company symbols or tags on them.
"It's on the seventeenth floor, my Elector." Stolas simply answered.
"So, your lover doesn't own this office building, huh?" Astaroth sighed, finding it even more pathetic.
"No, he doesn't own this building," Stolas replied calmly, his expression hardening. "But he doesn't need material possessions to prove his worth."
"And you're still defending him, even after he ditched you?" Astaroth scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain.
"He is more than what you see, my duke."
"Once again, you show how you're blinded by your own arrogance, Yeoman Stolas." Astaroth retorted, his voice tinged with boredom. He had never seen Stolas stand up for someone so fiercely. "But I suppose time will reveal the truth."
Stolas didn't respond to that. Instead, he turned his attention towards the building's staircase entrance and started making his way up, with Astaroth following suit. They both continued their climb up the stairs, approaching the seventeenth floor. There are only two doors; one is just a bland door with no marking that it belongs to someone, and the other is, well, the reason why the two Goetia are there. The other door has the crudely drawn "I M P Headquarters" on the door's surface. I guess he's still trying to be cheap even today.
"This one, Elector." Stolas simply said...ready for another round of Astaroth's petty insults.
"Charming name... not to mention a simple paint job on the door." Astaroth smirked, loving it already.
"Let me do the talking." Stolas just ignored that, gently walking up to the door.
He reached for the doorknob, only to stop in midair, squeezing his talons. Stolas won't lie that he is nervous right now. He made sure that neither he nor his friends would be so worried regarding the whole trial procedure. But now, he hasn't ever prepared any speech, anything that will make it right.
Stolas took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he held onto the doorknob. His mind raced, searching for the right words, the perfect approach to handle the impending meeting.
"Nervous, are we? I can practically smell the fear emanating from you, Yeoman Stolas." Astaroth noticed Stolas' momentary hesitation and couldn't resist a smug grin.
Stolas shot his Elector a stern look, and he once again just let it go. Hence, ignoring taunts, the Ex-Prince turned his attention back to the door. With a firm resolve, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.
...
Okay, he wasn't here. Instead, a wolf-like Hellhound, Loona, sat on the office chair, completely focused on the phone rather than on the typical receptionist job...still the same.
"Wonderful...a Hellhound." Astaroth sighed. This gets better and better for him...If only Ars Belial saw him today.
Stolas would gently come up to her, talons together. Loona again didn't bother to look at him, only tapping or scrolling her phone. She at least gave him a second glance at her dad's lover.
"Still alive?" Loona apathetically asked.
"Still alive..." Stolas nodded.
"Cool..."
And back again at her phone. What a nice and short conversation that definitely bonded Loona and Stolas together... The awkward silence commenced as Stolas tapped his talons against each other, while Astaroth gave him a stern look...it seems like the Duke-Elector once more needs to get himself involved once more.
"Ahem..." Duke Astaroth cleared his throat before he announced. "I would like to see the owner of this..." He takes a pause, noting how dirty and slightly decayed the interior is. "Fine establishment."
Loona once again just...didn't care. Astaroth's words just passed through her. Duke's frustration grew as Loona continued to ignore his presence and carry on with her phone. He exchanged a glance with Stolas, who just shrugged at him, silently conveying that she is always like this.
"I said, I want to see the owner!" Astaroth demanded once more, this time raising his voice.
Loona finally looked up from her phone, her eyes narrowing as she focused on Astaroth. A small smirk played on her lips, clearly unimpressed by his demanding tone.
"Look, buddy, I don't care who you are or what you want." Loona, being Loona, replied nonchalantly, her voice dripping with apathy.
"You dare to make an elector wait!?" He threatened her.
Loona let out a bored yawn, completely unfazed by Astaroth's threat. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and regarded him with an uninterested expression.
"Here is my special treat." She then just shows him the middle finger. "Get-Lost-Birdy."
And back to her phone, as if she hadn't flipped off a high-ranking Goetian official a few seconds ago. That pissed off the Duke-Elector even more.
"Oh, you little bi-" Astaroth muttered to himself before deciding to go on the offensive. In a quick move, Astaroth snatched Loona's phone and threw it against the wall, shattering her phone into pieces.
"THAT WAS MY PHONE, YOU FU-!" Loona got on her paws to complain, even ready to fight if needed. But Astaroth had enough too and silenced her by grabbing Loona by her throat, his talons pressing against her neck.
"My Duke, please just -" Stolas begged him to stop.
"QUIET, YEOMAN!" Astaroth threatened Stolas before directing his attention at Hellhound. "Now listen here, your mongrel mutt of the Hellhound race! I don't care what adoption center you crawled out of to get here, but you WON'T BERATE ARS GOETIA with your manners! Otherwise, I will make the Massacre of Town Furiosa look like a picnic event compared to what I will do with YOUR OWN FUR!"
"WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY HERE? I'M TRYING TO MASTURBATE HERE!"
...
And last but not least, the star himself has arrived.
Stolas turned around to see the door to the main meeting room opened, with an imp standing and holding a cup of coffee, completely annoyed.
The imp has crimson skin with white blotches of various sizes that cover parts of his forearms, chest, and tail, as well as most of the right side of his face. He has black spines on his head and upper back, as well as on his tail, which ends with a triangular point that has a black spot at the tip.
He has fairly broad forearms and hands, pointed feet with boot-like heels, and a long, narrow head, out of which extend large, curved, black and white-striped horns. His eyes are red, and his sclera are yellow, which are lined with a thick circle of black with a heart-shaped skull symbol on the center of his forehead.
"Actually, sir. We were just having coffee." And another imp with a high-pitched voice appeared.
"It's the same thing, Mox! Coffee is a *sips a coffee* slang term for sex!" The tall imp exclaimed.
"No, it doesn't, sir! We're literally drinking coffee right now." The short imp revealed his own cup of coffee.
"Just shut up, already!" The tall imp pushed the short one away from Stolas' view. He drank the entire cup before smashing the cup against his own face and storming closer to Astaroth. Ironically, he didn't see Stolas as the ex-prince silently observed him defending Loona. "Hey, asshole! Let go of my daughter before my pussy destroyer 1000 will have a word with you!"
"That mutt is your daughter!?" Astaroth was shocked. "What type of stray dog did you fuck in the streets for this mongrel to be your daughter?!"
"Dunno, maybe over a thousand of the finest Hellhound asses! Who the fuck cares? JUST PUT HER DOWN ALREADY!"
Astaroth gave one final glance at Loona before just letting her go. As the "cat always lands on its feet" rule doesn't apply to hellhounds, Loona collapsed on her knees, coughing from the Goetian talon grip.
"Jee...that must hurt." The short imp commented.
Loona gave him a death glare before just storming towards him and snatching the coffee cup for herself.
"Thanks for the coffee, fatty!"
"HEY! WHO ARE YOU CALLING A FATTY!?" The short imp's eyes widened in offense as he clenched his fists, his voice rising with indignation.
"Sweet Satan, hon. Our Hellhound is playing with you...that joke is getting old, anyway." An another short imp, a female one, revealed herself. She held a napkin to her nose, wiping it of leaking snot.
"Yeah, well...she could be nicer about it." The short imp still didn't accept it.
"Never, fatty." Loona sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. She glanced at the broken pieces of her phone on the floor, feeling a pang of annoyance. Without her phone, she felt a bit lost, unsure of what to do next. She tapped her fingers on the armrest, trying to break the boredom.
"See, here she goes again with -"
"Shut up, Mox!" The tall imp shut his employee up completely, busy with arguing with Astaroth. "Now listen here, you bird boy. I already have another bird boy to fuck with. How about you - "
The tall imp shut himself up as, during his tantrum, his eye caught on Stolas. Stolas met the gaze of the tall imp, his expression calm and collected, and smiled at him.
"Shit...you're still alive, after all." The tall imp expressed the way he knew off...his own way of saying "I was worried" to Stolas...not that the ex-prince didn't mind it.
"Nice to see you too, Blitz." Stolas chuckled quietly. "You look great."
"Thanks...I guess," Blitzø shrugged, not sure what else to say. He glanced at his disheveled appearance and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I've been through some shit, but hey, I'm still kickin'."
"Ah, so it's you." Astaroth couldn't help but interrupt, unable to contain his silence any longer. "The Infamous Blitzø Wire Buckzoo: The nemesis of D.H.O.R.K.S., vanquisher of the Knolastname Crime Family, Stolas' own protector against Stella's wrath, and esteemed owner of I.M.P. My-my, what a fine day to see a legend himself."
"What about us?" The short imp asked, calling Blitzø a legend is...absurd.
"...I don't even know you." Astaroth had no idea.
"It's Moxxie I have been with Blitzø since the beginning!" The short imp protested, feeling slighted by Astaroth's lack of recognition.
"Have you?" Astaroth glanced at the short imp, his brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry, but I don't recall ever hearing about you before. Sounds like someone's just a sidekick."
"HA!" Blitzø laughed once. "Hear it, Mox! You're my sidekick!"
Moxxie just gave up, crossing his arms and just turning away....sidekick they call him...uggh.
"If you want, I could be your sidekick...I allow it, hon." Millie chuckled in a flirtatious tone, although she tried to mask it as a friendly gesture.
Moxxie's cheeks turned a shade of red as he registered the innuendo in Millie's words. He cleared his throat and glanced at her, a mix of embarrassment and appreciation in his eyes.
"Thanks, Millie," he replied, his voice slightly wavering. Despite the awkwardness, he felt a sense of warmth from her offer. Millie had always been there to lighten the mood and bring some cheer.
Millie giggled as she pinched Moxxie's cheek, her playful gesture mixing with the genuine care she felt for him. She continued to wipe her leaking nose with the napkin, still battling the remnants of her sickness...getting Getting into her 30s really sucks for any Imp out of here, native to Wrath or not.
After Millie's playful gesture, Blitzø couldn't resist injecting some sarcasm. He turned toward Astaroth.
"I'm surprised you know about me that much. What are you: the number one fan in 'Blitzø's Fanclub', mister what-his-name?" Blitzø remarked with exaggerated enthusiasm, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Duke-Elector Astaroth of Ars Goetia." Astaroth rolled his eyes, clearly not amused by Blitzø's remark. "And please. Don't flatter yourself, Blitzø. The Hell itself doesn't revolve around you."
Blitzø chuckled and shrugged. "Of course, of course. I'm just a humble superstar who happens to have his own fan club in Ars Goetia. No big deal."
"Says the imp who failed to be committed to pop star Verosika Mayday." Astaroth bantered back.
Blitzø feigned shock, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. "Oh, I see you've done your research! Bravo! Now tell me how many moles I have on my right ass cheek!"
"I bet Stolas can answer that, as I'm not dwelling on researching your own plebeian hedonism, Mr. Blitzø."
"Ah, and here I thought you wanted to fuck me too." Blitzø dared...maybe soon he can create an Ars Goetian harem if more and more Goetias like Astaroth are here.
"No, you can keep your jokes to your employees for all I care. But I can see your whole company is pretty capable. That's why I'm here to make a business deal."
"How about I fuck your mom while you fuck off to the nearest shithole? Go and eat a dick somewhere else, asshole." Blitzø flipped him off; he had no business with those who hurt Loona.
"Well, it's settled then!" Astaroth clapped his talons once before looking at Stolas. "It looks like your daughter doesn't need any help at all. Have a good day, Yeoman Stolas!"
Duke-Elector Astaroth would turn and only take a few steps before Stolas' voice sounded.
"Wait-wait" Stolas begged, making Astaroth stop with a grin on his beak. "He is just angry at you for hurting his daughter, Astaroth."
"Well, shit. Why are you defending him now, Stolas?" Blitzø's voice held confusion.
"I know Astaroth's behavior is unacceptable, Blitzø....but I need his help. It's a complicated situation." Stolas sighed, his expression weary.
"It's not that complicated, Yeoman." Astaroth interjected, returning back. "I'm wasting my time by making legal procedures because you asked me to come here. If you think that your child can handle herself, then-"
"Just stop already!" Stolas snapped, silencing Astaroth. The ex-prince then looked up at Blitzø with sincerity. "Please, Blitzø....make a deal with him...for me."
Blitzø's brows furrowed as he processed Stolas' words. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before responding.
"In my office, then." Blitzø begrudgingly accepted.
"Hey, cheer up. You did good by cooperating with your lover...might as well reward him later." Astaroth mocked.
Blitzø didn't dignify with that response; instead, he just muttered some nasty words as he went inside their meeting room. He opened the door and gestured for Stolas and Astaroth to enter. Once inside, Blitzø took a seat behind his desk and motioned for Stolas and Astaroth to sit as well. Both Moxxie and Millie, without saying a word, also joined in their own seats; obviously, they too need to hear this, but Blitzø is the one who shall take the lead...talk about the sidekicks.
"Now, let's get this over with," Blitzø said, his tone curt. "What do you want, Goetia?"
"Straight to the point, huh?" Astaroth smirked. "Even if you don't realize it, Mr. Blitzø. You have quite a story, quite a file on your exploits."
"And who are you, the Goetian equivalent of the CIA or someshit? Don't tell me you're hiring me for some Governmental shit..."
"The human CIA? Do I look like a homosexual? Do you think I care about the size of your pride, Mr. Blitzø? I'm just a superior Duke of Ars Goetia, with all dukes answering to me. And I don't want anything from you...it's your lover who wants it, you see."
Blitzø's gaze shifted from Astaroth to Stolas, waiting for his response. Stolas took a deep breath, as it was going to be a difficult part.
"Blitzø, what Astaroth says is true," Stolas began, his voice steady. "There is something that my daughter, Octavia, wants to do, but I'm deeply concerned for her. That's why I'm asking for your help, Blitzø. I want to hire you and your team as her bodyguards, to ensure her protection."
"So what's the problem?" Blitzø apathetically responded, taking another cup of coffee from his desk and sipping.
"You're going to Limbo." Stolas said it eerily with talons crossed.
Blitzø's casual demeanor shifted as Stolas dropped the bombshell. He nearly choked on his coffee, setting the cup down with a thud.
"What? Limbo?!" Blitzø's voice betrayed his surprise and concern. "Are you out of your mind, Stolas?!"
"What's wrong with Limbo, sir?" Moxxie wondered.
"FUCK-THAT-PLACE!" Blitzø exclaimed every word for Moxxie to hear. "I mean, fuck my red hole, I want that place to be nuked twice a day, and still it won't be enough!"
"I'm well aware of the risks, Blitzø." Stolas nodded, understanding Blitzø's concerns. "That's why I want your help. You all have done the impossible before..."
"Well, fuck me running, Stolas." Blitzø complained as the Goetian Prince put him in a difficult position.
"Just for curiosity." Moxxie intervened, wanting to hear the details. "Why does Miss Octavia want to go there?"
"Hm, I'm surprised that news hasn't reached you yet. Well, it seems Stolas' little girl has now become a fully fledged Marquise of Ars Goetia." Astaroth explained. "And to prove her worth, she wants to retrieve a very special artifact for Ars Goetia. For the rest, I remain silent. Infernal secret, you see."
Blitzø's eyes narrowed at Astaroth's explanation. He again looked at Stolas, as he is the only source to filter Astaroth's bullshit out.
"That's the truth, Blitzø. She is now fully a noble."
"Shit, really?" Blitzø nearly sounded in disbelief. "Well...that's good for her, I guess."
"Oh, wow..." Moxxie also expressed his own surprise. "Congratulations then, Prince Stolas."
"Give her our kisses, my lord." Millie too congratulated him...but mostly fighting the sickness.
"Thank you all." Stolas nodded before once more focusing on Blitzø. "So, Blitzø... can I really rely on your help?"
Blitzø glanced at Stolas, conflicted. Their relationship had been strained over the years, with trust repeatedly broken and promises left unfulfilled. It was hard for Blitzø to let go of the past. The Tall Imp got up from his office chair and walked to the window, deep in thought. There was silence for one minute before Stolas' lover turned around.
"Are you fully sure she needs our help?"
"Yes...Limbo is very dangerous." Stolas said it sincerely. In that case, Blitzø then glanced at his employees.
"Mox, Mills, can I have your back?"
"Always, sir." Moxxie did give a nod.
"Sure, I'm with Mox. Babysitting Goetia is better than babysitting Implings of some Legion Decanus." Millie remarked with a chuckle. Moxxie looked at her with a face of confusion. "Ah, just a small-time gig when I was 18, hon. A little impling wrecked the entire room, but I got paid in the end."
"Good..." Blitzø nodded slowly before looking at Stolas. "I'm afraid I can't accompany Octavia to Limbo. But I'm confident our two pairs of M's will handle it."
"Why, sir?" Moxxie just wanted to be sure.
"My sister...you can guess why, Mox." Blitzø's voice held a hint of sadness as he spoke about his sister.
"I understand, sir," Moxxie replied gently. He understood the underlying reasons without needing any further explanation. "We'll take care of Octavia, you can count on us."
"And I will also go with the fatty and Mrs. toothy." Loona, who had been silently observing the entire conversation, let her voice to be known. With no phone, she was busy polishing her claws—it at least killed the boredom.
"Loona, Limbo is a dangerous place. I don't think you should be involved." Blitzø shot her a glare, frustrated with Loona's insistence on joining the mission.
Loona, without missing a beat, rolled her eyes and continued with her nonchalant attitude. "We both know I'm the best at what I do when it comes to protecting V. Besides, someone has to keep this fat idiot in check."
"Hey, watch it!" Moxxie bristled at the insult, feeling offended.
Blitzø sighed, realizing that convincing Loona to change her mind would be an exercise in futility. He knew all too well about her stubbornness and independent spirit.
"Fine, have it your way!" Blitzø reluctantly conceded, his frustration evident. "But if anything happens to you out there, Loona, you'll be in so much trouble!"
"Jee, thanks, Dad." Loona responded with her trademark apathy.
Moxxie, still confused by the situation, interjected with a question. "Wait, hold on... How does it work if she dies, sir?"
"Just shut up, Mox!" Blitzø waved him off, his patience wearing thin. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head, unable to suppress his worry beneath the layers of frustration. Deep down, despite Loona's abrasive personality, he still cared for her. He hoped that this risky endeavor wouldn't end in tragedy.
"Ah, good then. Looks like the A-Team is formed." Astaroth, seizing the moment, raised his hand and summoned a pair of contract papers. "All I need now are your signatures in order for the contract job to be commenced."
The Duke-Elector handed the papers to Loona, Millie and Moxxie; each wrote their full names, while Loona drew an L as her signature. And the last one for Blitzø. Blitzø reluctantly took the contract papers from Astaroth, eyeing them skeptically. He didn't bother scanning through the document, as it's for losers like Moxxie to do...no offense, of course.
"What am I holding right now?" Blitzø's voice held a touch of suspicion.
"It's just a formality to ensure that everyone involved is on board and accountable for their actions." Astaroth nodded, a knowing smirk on his face.
"Aha, next thing you say crabs whistle on the mountains." Blitzø sighed, seeing Astaroth's own bullshit, but arguing further would be pointless. He took a pen and scrawled a simple B as his signature on the document before a huge grin formed on his face. He quickly tried to draw the additional part of the B letter, making it a "drawn dick" instead, but Astaroth beat him to it, quickly snatching it from the hands of the imp before he could fuck around.
"Your collaboration is appreciated." Astaroth shuffled the papers together and sent them for the Goetian bureaucratic process with his magic. "Now, I understand your business is not a charity. Hence, my initial offer is this: 100,000 per your employee, 300,000 in total."
"Are you fucking serious!?" Blitzø's voice rose with indignation. He couldn't believe the audacity of the offer, considering the risks involved and the potential danger Millie, Moxxie and Loona would face in Limbo. "Listen here, bird mouth. This trio are not cheap-ass hookers you pay from the streets. These are professionals who can blow the entire fucking Ring if needed!"
"Thanks...I guess." Moxxie muttered, it's appreciative, but it still felt weird with the analogy of a hooker.
"Ah, I do enjoy your spirit, Mr. Buckzo." Astaroth leaned back in his chair, observing Blitzø with a sly grin. "Very well, let's negotiate. What would you consider a fair price for your team's services in this endeavor?"
Blitzø took a moment to think. He needed to secure a reasonable amount that reflected the risks they were taking, but also wouldn't push Astaroth away entirely...but it's Blitzø so FUCK IT!
"1.500.000."
"Too expensive, 325,000."
"500,000." Blitzø didn't give up that easily.
"350,000," Astaroth persisted. "That's the highest I can go."
"Still very cheap, asshole."
"Oh, I understand that. Luckily for you, Mr. Buckzo, 350,000 is just for Marquise Octavia's protection. I do have some additional contacts that are willing to pay you more for the job."
"And what can they offer better than your cheap-ass contract job?" Blitzø dared.
"An offer you can't refuse, Mr. Blitzø...you gotta love the Godfather movie."
"Oh, crumbs." Not even seconds were needed for Moxxie and Millie to recognize that voice...much to the freckled imp's horror.
Since Loona was on the meeting board, no one exactly watched over the entrance to the I.M.P. office room, hence why there are uninvited guests. It was none other than Crimson Knolastname, the suave and cunning crime boss of Crimson's Mafia...and Moxxie's own father no less.
"Well...what a blast from the past, huh?" Blitzø cursed. Even Stolas showed signs of worry. Imps with suits always scream "big trouble," no matter what.
Moxxie and Millie immediately got up from their chairs, with the freckled imp ready to take out his pistol. This time he is prepared for unexpected weeding to occur.
"Long time no see, Mox. And you, Miss Millie...you don't look so well." Crimson smirked; it's very difficult to tell if it's genuine or just his typical acting.
"Seems like my first rampage time with the Mafia wasn't enough for you, Mister Crimson." Millie threatened...still had to wipe herself with the napkin.
"A minor setback. The damages have been compensated, my lovely daughter-in-law." Crimson wasn't affected by Millie's threats.
"And so, what? Have another wedding planned for me, father?" Moxxie showed hostility, ready to shoot him if needed.
"Oh, please, Mox. Don't be an idiot. Chaz paid the price for his failure. I'm no longer interested in some ponzi wedding schemes."
"Then get out and never come back!" Moxxie challenged, even despite knowing his father is not much of a...retreating one.
"It's not nice for you to threaten your own dad, little fella."
And just as things could not get worse, they turned worse. Another imp, with pale red skin, bright yellow eyes with concentric rings in his irises, a pencil-thin mustache, ivory white hair, and a pair of black and white striped horns, let himself be seen by the rest of I.M.P....at this point, everyone knows who he is.
"Oh, no! Not him!" Stolas complained; the last thing he needed was for him to be here...part of him hoped that after Stella was gone from his life, things would go better...
"YOU!" Even Blitzø got furious. Unlike Moxxie, he immediately kicked the chair out, got his flintlock pistol up, and aimed it at the Cowboy Imp. Moxxie followed suit and pulled out his own blessed Colt M1911A1 pistol, aiming at his father. Coughing, Millie also joined Moxxie's side, getting her dagger ready. Only Loona didn't join the Mexican standoff, busy polishing her claws.
"Lower it now." The Cowboy Imp already held his blessed revolver at Blitzø .
"Make me, you brown -noise fuck. I waited a long time to settle this score with you, Striker!"
"Heh, spoken like a true Imp of Wrath." Striker smirked. Credit where credit is due.
Since Moxxie and Striker held the blessed handguns, no one made any risky moves. Surprisingly, Striker wasn't going for the offensive as he normally does. He held his ground near Moxxie's father while Crimson didn't even bother with these threats as he just reached for his lighter. He knew better as someone else was about to come.
"ENOUGH!"
And another voice came in, this time far stronger and full of fury. Crimson immediately nudged Striker to lower the gun...there are things are far worse when you don't comply to THEM.
"Who said that?" Moxxie was confused, still aiming his pistol at Crimson.
"Oh, crap." Millie recognized that voice; she immediately kneeled on the floor, not caring for the sickness.
"Millie, what are you-"
"Just do it, Mox!" Millie forced him to kneel as well. Blitzø wanted to ask why the submissive behavior of his two friends was so sudden, only to hear the plated boot stamps getting closer, silencing any attempt to speak.
Again at the doorway, another Imp made himself know...only quite a different one than your average Imp of Wrath. That Imp is a massive one, standing nearly 7' tall with a large, muscular build that makes even Millie's father look weak...not that it's surprising, considering who this belongs to.
He wears the Ring of Wrath's traditional set of armor for high-ranking officials: Centurion armor. His armor consisted of overlapping metal strips or other pieces of armor taken from those of the wearer's defeated opponents in combat.
On his head is a centurion's helmet, known as a galea in high satanic language. It features a distinctive plume, which is made of a hellhound tail. Even his armor had many trinkets or trophies of his victory: hanging claws of Hellhounds, the typical jaw of an Envy Demon on his belt, and a shoulder cap made of Hellhound fur...
"Show respect to your Centurion, servant of Satan...or you will find yourself in the gladiatorial arena." The Legionnaire of Wrath threatened Moxxie.
"Sweet merciful crumbs of all Hell." Moxxie nervously swallowed. Somehow it made him...fearful.
"Ave, true to Satan, Centurio." Crimson sincerely bowed his head at the superior imp. "I apologize for his behavior. My son is not well versed in the cultural obedience of Wrath."
"I hope that's true for your own sake. The Mighty Satan does not appreciate the degeneracy of your own lineage, Frumentarios Crimson." The Centurion of Wrath grunted, anger and wrath boiling as Satan commands.
"Believe me, my son is not like her ." Crimson again protested but showed full respect. It's so weird that here Crimson defends Moxxie.
The Centurion did give a stern, very threat-like look at Crimson, nearly identical to Crimson's on Chaz. But a single grunt was Centurion's response as he looked in Blitzø's direction. The boss of I.M.P was confused as fuck as to why a Roman cosplayer was here...
But that only lasted a few seconds as he noticed the bowing duo: Moxxie and Millie. He would come gently to them, not saying a word.
"True to Satan, my Centurio." Millie obediently showed her loyalty to Satan. Even today, she has not forgotten where she came from.
"True to Satan, child of Wrath." The centurion returned the honor, giving Moxxie one glance before going away.
He stopped near Loona with a single raised eyebrow. Loona, still seemingly disinterested, finally looked up from her claws and glanced at the imposing figure of the Centurion of Wrath standing before her. She was taken aback by his sheer size and the intensity of his presence. With a nonchalant shrug, Loona lazily extended her clawed hand towards the Centurion.
"Yeah, whatever. True to Satan or whatever you want."
The centurion stared at Loona, seemingly unimpressed by her lack of reverence. He remained silent for a moment before leaning closer to her.
"Get out of my chair, mutt." He threatened her.
Loona's eyes narrowed as she leaned back in her chair, her nonchalant demeanor giving way to a flicker of defiance. She stared back at the centurion, unyielding.
But horrified.
Loona's gaze shifted from the Centurion's imposing figure to the trophies adorning his armor. The sight of Hellhound bones and teeth sent a shiver down her spine.
"You... you killed Hellhounds?" Loona's voice wavered slightly, a hint of vulnerability seeping through her usual tough exterior.
"Hellhounds are nothing but beasts for the hunt, mutt of Lycaon." The Centurion's expression remained stoic as he met Loona's gaze. "You are meant to be conquered and dominated by Mighty Satan. But don't you worry, my little pup. Your skull shall be a fine addition to my shoulder plate. You have to just ask me... nicely ."
Loona recognized the dire situation. She took a deep, angry breath, her claws slowly retracting as she fought to regain her composure...and stepped away from her chair.
"Good...and keep your dog on the leash, Imp." Centurion said it to Blitzø, before just taking a seat on the chair, impatient as ever.
Blitzø, still bewildered by the sudden appearance of the Centurion and the interaction that just took place, couldn't help but voice his confusion. "What in the Seven Rings of Hell was that about?"
"You don't know me?" The Centurion asked with a grunt, always on the edge of wrath.
"No, I can't say that I do," Blitzø replied, his tone tinged with caution. "Should I?"
"Ignorance is a dangerous path to tread, little imp." The Centurion let out a low, gruff laugh that echoed through the room. He would then shift his eye at Millie, as obviously she is well versed. "You there, little girl. Tell your boss, who am I..."
"Yes, my lord." Millie bowed her head once more. "My boss, before you stands Centurio Rictus of Satan's Legion, servant to Legatus Immortas Joe "The Blitzkrieg" and chosen by Mighty Satan himself to enforce the dominion of Wrath in Hell," Millie answered, her voice steady but laced with deference.
"Very good, daughter of Satan. You and your friend may now stand." Centurio Rictus allowed, before looking directly at Blitzø. "So Blitzø is your name...I see that your own father named you after my Legatus's tittle...even in Greed Ring, you imps venerate Satan's finest every time."
"Heh, you learn something new, I guess." Blitzø's blocked his own mouth, hiding the smirk from Centurion's name...Rictus...what ridiculous names Imps come up with these days. "So...why are you here, then....If it's okay to ask."
"Good question." Centurio Rictus made an annoyed scowl at himself before looking at Crimson. "1) Crimson, vos certus de his stulti? Et vix possunt occidere tamquam simplex Canditatus in pulchra pugna."
"2) "Apparaance potest decipiendi, mi Centurio. Ego odisti, sed etiam cum possit facere posse videre. Si quis canis semel apprehendere et omnes, qui non esset aliud." Crimson spoke fluently in High Satanic. Behind him, Striker reached for his knife and used it to get rid of the meat stuck between his teeth—stupid wrath boars and their hard-to-bite meat.
"3) Tunc potens satanas, et imperiosus sit in parte, si suus 'verum, Crimson. Procedere, Frumentario."
Crimson bowed his head, honoring the Centurion before starting with the reason for his presence. "Again, Mr. Blitzø. I would like to apologize for an uninvited intrusion into your office."
"How kind of you...why that cowfucker here, though?" Blitzø shot a glare in Striker's direction. Striker just crossed his arms with a grin. It's always enjoyable when someone has the balls to threaten him.
"He is with me." Astaroth interjected. "Don't assume that Octavia is the only one who goes to Limbo. The newly inaugurated Prince Gaap hired Striker as his bodyguard... and was approved by King Paimon himself for this."
Stolas's left eye twitched with agitation as he listened to the conversation unfold. When Astaroth's words reached his ears, he felt a betrayal...He couldn't understand why his own father, King Paimon, would approve of hiring Striker as a bodyguard, especially after the harm Striker had caused him in the past.
"Duke Astaroth, are you telling me that my father supported the employment of that brutish oaf?" Stolas clenched his fists, trying to contain his frustration as he approached his trusted companion. disbelief.
"Someone is still bitter about it, huh? Knife wounds heal fast, my lord" Striker snickered, fueling Stolas' own anger even more.
"If you're referring to this Striker trying to assassinate you, then Lord Paimon doesn't give a single drop of shit about it, Stolas. Stella paid the price for her treachery, while Striker got compensated for the abrupt end of his contract. However, we heard he managed to capture you, Stolas, a prince of Goetia. That already proves his skills, and thus Prince Gaap wants him.
"I still can't fathom why my father would prioritize political games over his own son's well-being. It's infuriating!" Stolas shook his head in frustration, his feathers rustling with agitation.
"Yeah, fuck you too, you bird fuck!" Blitzø agreed with Stolas, joining his side.
"Eh, morals, morals, and morals." Astaroth rolled his eyes...fucking imps. "I don't need to remind you that your entire business is to kill humans, Mr. Blitzø. At the end of the day, you and Striker just do your job because we finance you. Striker got his money; hence, he is no longer obliged to finish off our Stolas over here. But since Octavia and Gaap are coming to Limbo with your and Striker's protection, I want you to settle this peacefully and work together."
"The question is, can you do it, little fellas?" Striker snickered once more.
"After what you have done to Lord Stolas...no by chance, Striker." Moxxie threatened, and even Millie made a slow nod.
Here, Striker just let out a sigh of annoyance.
"Look, I get it," Striker grumbled, his arrogance momentarily subsiding...or he fakes it; it's hard to tell. "I messed up, and I apologize for that, Lord Stolas. But your wife postponed my payment so many times that I could not control my own anger. So what if I stabbed you once...twice, at the end of the day, I got paid and now have a new job of babysitting Prince Gaap, who knows...it will be a chance for me to redeem myself."
"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" Stolas didn't believe in a single word he said. "A single stare from my eyes will encase you in a statue."
"Touché." Striker chuckled, seemingly undeterred. "I know better than to underestimate you and rest of..."royalties". I'm here to make some big money."
"Which I wonder." Crimson interjected, not interested in the old past between Lord Stolas and Striker. "Astaroth, how much did you offer them for Miss Octavia's protection?"
"350,000 souls in total."
"Ah, wonderful. Then my offer is still quite rewarding."
"What offer, dad?" Moxxie again didn't trust his dad at all.
"A bounty of sorts for I.M.P."
"We don't do that." Blitzø wasn't interested in some bounty hunting. "Ask this asshole for that."
"Even if Lord Satan himself offers the triple price?"
The room fell silent as Crimson's words hung in the air. The mention of a bounty on behalf of Lord Satan himself was enough to grab everyone's attention, even Blitzø.
"Triple the price, you say?" Blitzø raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued.
Seeing that he had bitten the hook, Crimson reached for his pocket and revealed an object. It's a medallion necklace with Imperator Satan himself depicted on one side, while the other side of the medallion is Imperious himself, with the words "Legio Satanas" , High-Satanic for Satan's Legion.
"Oh, yes indeed. The eyes of the mighty Satan are upon you, immediate murder professionals. He appreciates your service in killing humans and bestows upon you the exceptional gift of his mark. Our Imperator offers you an opportunity of service to his cause, with the reward of monetary value."
"How much?"
"You dare to spat Satan's command, profligate?!" Centurio Rictus was insulted. They should have accepted it momentarily when Crimson mentioned The Mighty Satan.
"My Centurio, please." Crimson assured him that he is much more versed in business arts. "As for how much: 1,500,000 souls."
Yeah, that just broke the atmosphere in the room. Even Loona's own ears raised themselves in shock.
"Unholy shit..." Moxxie had to admit that was a very good sum.
"One million and five hundred thousand souls?" Blitzø's eyes widened....so many horses he can buy with this money.
Stolas, though still skeptical, couldn't deny the immense benefits that came with such a proposition. Then again, he couldn't judge it. This sum will be a game changer for his love of life.
"And the possibility of future contracts at the government level." Crimson hinted with a grin. "Unlike the Greed Ring, the Ring of Wrath pays a lot as long as our employees do Satan's bidding. But before I continue, do you accept this, Mr.Blitzø?" Crimson wanted to be sure.
Blitzø's mind was racing as he weighed the immense offer on the table. One million and five hundred thousand souls. That's like 10 years of I.M.P yearning. He looked at Moxxie and Millie as they went instead of Blitzø. But Moxxie smiled and nodded reassuringly; he has his back.
"Very well, Crimson. I accept."
Crimson nodded, his grin widening. "Excellent. Your acceptance is noted, Mr. Blitzø, and your dedication to Satan's cause will not go unnoticed."
"But let me remind you," Striker interjected, his voice laced with a hint of caution. "There's a significant catch to this contract, my friend."
"Yeah, to which I would like to ask a question. Tell me, my friends. What pisses our Lord Satan the most?"
The room fell silent once again as the question posed by Crimson hung in the air. Everyone pondered the answer, their minds racing to think of the things that could anger the mighty Lord Satan the most.
"Selling their own children to the weddings." Moxxie grumbled.
"Clever, Mox. But no." Crimson didn't bother arguing again.
"Pistachio ice cream?" Millie presumed. "No one in Wrath loves it...even Sallie."
Crimson shook his head with a slight smirk on his face. "While Lord Satan may not be fond of pistachio ice cream, it's not the answer I'm looking for, dear Millie."
"Betrayal: it's not a secret." Stolas responded, a child's game.
"Degeneracy, Goetia." Centurion Rictus corrected him.
"Indeed," Crimson replied, acknowledging Stolas' response and Rictus' response. "Disloyalty or degeneracy is what angers our Lord Satan the most. He demands unwavering loyalty from his servants and despises those who betray him or his cause. But even then, there are those who go against the will of Mighty Satan."
"Ah, so we are hunting a Rouge Imp of a Legion, right?" Millie is the only one who understood what Crimson meant. The language is pretty much straightforward stuff you hear in The Ring of Wrath.
"Not some rogue imp, my dear Millie."
"But Legendary Legatus Moxxara "The Furiosa" herself"
As Crimson shut his mouth for the words to sink in, a heavy silence settled over the meeting board. The gravity of the situation hung in the air, and each member of I.M.P. absorbed the information in their own way.
Blitzø, Moxxie, and Stolas exchanged glances; their expressions were full of confusion. However, amidst the solemn atmosphere, Millie stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The revelation of their target had caught her off guard. Her usually energetic and mischievous demeanor was replaced by a momentary stillness, and her voice was momentarily lost.
"I-I... it's not possible! She has been dead for 50 years!" Millie stammered, her voice filled with shock and a hint of desperation. The news had upended her understanding of the situation, leaving her searching for an explanation that defied logic.
"I had the same reaction, Millie." Crimson, understanding Millie's disbelief and sharing in the pain of the revelation, offered a sympathetic response. "But it seems the phantoms of our past have a way of resurfacing, no matter how long ago they were thought to be gone. It is a painful reminder that some things never truly stay buried."
"BUT HOW?!" Millie still confused as fuck, not caring if sickness made her voice raspy. "She was my grandfather's fan favorite Legatus! How could she be alive? It doesn't make sense."
"The Imps of Legion have a longer lifespan, Miss Millie." Centurio Rictus added, already liking that girl. "Legends tell of Legatus Magitek, who survived for two hundred years before meeting his demise in a battle against his own Centurion. If so, Moxxara is, at this point, very old...but still a dangerous degenerate."
"Moxxara..." Moxxie muttered the name. Unfortunately, he was not well-versed in the history of the Wrath's Legatuses. "So, who exactly is she?"
"You don't know?" Millie looked surprised by Moxxie's lack of knowledge. "I always thought you were named in her honor, Mox."
"Well, unfortunately, no one ever told me in my old home." Moxxie's face contorted with resentment. He shot an angry glare at his father, Crimson, who shifted uncomfortably under his son's gaze. It's his eyes in Moxxie's...and hers too.
"You never asked, Mox." Crimson crossed his arms in defense.
"That's not an excuse, dear dad."
Crimson took a deep breath, deciding to honor his son's wish. gathering his thoughts.
"As it's known, Moxxara, 'The Furiosa' was a legendary Legatus of the Ring of Wrath. She was the one who led the successful campaign for Limbo Ring's subjugation. Obviously, she was known for her unparalleled skill in combat and her unwavering loyalty to Lord Satan. She was a force to be reckoned with, feared and respected by both Legatuses and enemies of the Legion alike...and yes, Mox, I named you after her own name."
"Once upon a time, my own Legatus served her as Centurion Immortas Joe. It's not a secret she had the skills of leadership that made her Legion more effective; they even hailed her as Imperious Incarnate." Centurion Rictus shared this.
Moxxie listened intently, his anger subsiding as the pieces of his own identity began to fall into place. The weight of his namesake, Moxxara, suddenly carried more significance than ever before.
"There is one final thing, Dad. You're a mafia boss. Why do you care about this stuff? Obviously, there is nothing you can profit from it."
"That's a good question, Crimson." Centurio Rictus mockingly grinned. Seems like his own son doesn't know Crimson' dirty little secrets.
"I'm afraid I can't say it, Mox." Crimson sounded...sad for some reason. "But it's very important for me to have that treacherous bitch apprehended once and for all. The details don't matter; I offered a reward to your boss. Take it or leave it."
Moxxie stared at his father with distrust. He had hoped for a genuine explanation, a glimpse into his father's motivations beyond the surface level. But instead, he was met with an evasive response and a seemingly insincere offer.
"That's so typical of you, dad." Moxxie's voice wavered with a hint of hurt.
"You know me better, my son." Crimson grinned, reaching to cup Moxxie's cheek, but the freckled imp just yanked his head a bit...if there was any genuine trust that Moxxie had in Crimson, it was gone. But then again, it was already a dead horse at this point. "So do you have any questions on your bounty contract, I.M.P?"
"No, just one." Moxxie again showed distrust. "Where should we report?"
"Unfortunately, Limbo doesn't have the Hell Elevator, as it has been blown so many times." Astaroth spoke on Crimson's behalf. "But every week we transport our reinforcement from Acheron City, Pride Ring, to Little Limbo through the "Infernal Express". Go to the Acheron Central Station on 25 Heartfire at 21:00 PM, and just follow any orders from Octavia and Gaap. Regarding Moxxara, that will be explained further once you get yourselves in The Ring Of Limbo. And try to behave in front of Octavia and Gaap."
"And that concludes our business deal." Crimson smugly proclaimed, with Centurio Rictus and Duke-Elector Astaroth getting up from the chair and immediately departing from the office. They both wasted no time to get themselves back to their typical mundane duties: a bureaucratic nightmare of Ars Goetia for Astaroth...and probably bashing some unruly imps in Centurio Rictus' case.
"See you soon, little fellas." Striker also said his goodbyes, flicking his hat on them before following Crimson to the exit.
Moxxie watched as Crimson and Striker left the room, his emotions swirling within him. He let out a sigh as he rubbed his eyes in frustration. Millie laid her hand on his shoulder, showing that he is not alone.
"We were supposed to watch the movie for the rest of the day, Blitzø." Loona growled at him, still bitter about that Centurion from before...racist piece of shit.
"Well, woopty fucking do, Loonie! I didn't know that Mox's own pimp and that Lizard would come!" Blitzø also complained.
"HEY!"
"WELL, YOU GOT MY POINT, MOX!" Blitzø exclaimed, throwing his arms up in frustration. He paced back and forth, his face contorting with annoyance. It's like he is back to being a damn circus clown, doing insane stunts just to earn a lousy buck. "I don't like it myself! And now we're being forced to work with Striker!"
Even Stolas saw the frustration radiating from Blitzø and decided to chime in, attempting to offer some perspective.
"I'm so sorry, Blitzø...I didn't want this to come."
"Not your fault..." Blitzø rubbed his face, releasing a breath as he looked back at Mox. "So...1.750.000 souls, huh?"
"Yeah...and one rogue Legatus to chase after in Limbo..." Moxxie didn't like it at all.
"Oh, please. They're trying to scare us. Mils wrecked the entire crime family, and it's just one super duper warrior or someshit."
"Boss, they are called "Satan's finest" for a reason." Millie said it sincerely. "Me wrecking the entire Crimson's mafia is nothing compared to what Legion of Imperator can do...my own dad fears them every time when a collector comes for grain."
"So what? Are we now just declining that offer?"
"Doesn't help that you're not coming with us."
"Look, I want to go and blow shit like a true psycho with you two...but I can't. Barbie AGAIN is in her typical act trying to ruin my business....Just do it for me...please?"
Moxxie looked at Blitzø, his expression softening with understanding. He knew how much Blitzø wanted to be a part of the action, but circumstances had forced him to stay behind. Taking a deep breath, Moxxie then answered.
"We understand, sir. And we'll handle it. We'll go accompany Octavia to Limbo, apprehend Moxxara, and complete this job. You've got your own battles to fight here."
"Yeah, you can count on us. We-" Millie's voice trailed off, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach. Moxxie's worry grew, and he rushed to her side.
"Millie, are you okay?" Moxxie asked, concern etched on his face.
"I-shit I.." But before Millie could respond, a sudden wave of nausea overcame her. She clutched her stomach tightly, grimacing in pain. And then, to everyone's shock, Millie vomited out a stream of acid that sizzled and burned on the floor.
"MILLIE!" Moxxie exclaimed in horror.
"OH WHAT THE HORSE HELL?!" Blitzø exclaimed, taking a step back to avoid the corrosive liquid.
"Oh, my." Stolas quickly moved away from the acid as well; he had never seen Millie display such a phenomenon before, much to his knowledge of Imp biology. That is not supposed to happen...unless.
Ah, of course.
"Millie, what just happened? Are you hurt?" Moxxie helped Millie steady herself, his worry turning to confusion.
Millie took a moment to catch her breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I...I don't know, Moxxie. I've never experienced anything like this before. It just...came out of nowhere."
"Should we get you to a doctor?" Blitzø, though still taken aback, approached Millie cautiously.
"Yeah, I think a little checkup would not hurt me." Millie chuckled, even though it was not a genuine one.
Moxxie looked at Blitzø, asking for permission with his glance. But Blitzø just rolled his eyes.
"What am I, some kind of asshole? Just go and make sure she will have the finest message if needed."
"Thank you, sir." Moxxie nodded gladly, appreciative of the gesture. "Alright, Millie. Let's get you to a doctor."
Moxxie gently wrapped an arm around her waist, offering support to his wife as they made their way towards the exit with Stolas, Loona, and Blitzø.
"Is acid vomiting a common thing for Imps?" Loona asked, completely bored.
"No, it's definitely not common," Stolas smirked. "Then again, it seems fate itself smiled at them today."
"You and your fairy tales, Stolas." Blitzø grunted...still a slight smile formed on his lips.
"Hey, some part of you loves it, my Blitzy." Stolas showed a flirtatious tone.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, birdbrain." Blitzø looked at him directly, smiling.
Stolas too, returned that smile, somewhat appreciating this moment after what just happened. While his relationship was far from perfect, Stolas found a strange sort of camaraderie in their shared adventures and misadventures.
Blitzø's cheeks flushed, but he immediately turned his glance away, awkwardly scratching his neck. His eyes caught on Loona; clearly, she didn't want to be here.
"Hey, Loonie. Could you excuse us?"
"If you give me your phone...then I will."
Blitzø sighed and reluctantly took out his phone, tossing it to Loona. "Fine, take it. Just go and entertain yourself or whatever."
Loona caught the phone perfectly. But before leaving, she wants to check on a specific thing.
"1 GB of porn...seriously?"
"Shoo-Shoo, Loonie."
"Fine-fine!" Loona gave up and walked away, with Blitzø's phone on her paws.
As Loona left them, Blitzø turned his attention back to Stolas. There was a brief moment of silence between them before Blitzø spoke up, his tone more serious this time. "You know, Stolas, sometimes I don't get why you stick around. You're a high-and-mighty demon prince, and yet you choose to hang out with a bunch of misfits like us."
"Oh, my dear Blitzø, you may be a misfit, but you're my misfit. And besides, Goetian parties suck anyway." Stolas chuckled softly.
"Yeah, well, don't think I've gone soft or anything. I still think you're insufferable most of the time," Blitzø replied, his tone lightening up.
"And yet, you can't resist my charms, can you?" Stolas laughed, his voice carrying a playful tone.
"It must be your magic, bird."
"No, magic. Just good looks and soft feathers, the way you like."
Blitzø couldn't help but smile at Stolas' response...but that smile quickly vanished as soon as the tall imp reminded him of Stolas' previous visit...just before the whole trial thing.
"I was worried...you know."
Stolas' expression softened as he looked at Blitzø, sensing the genuine concern in his voice. The Ex-Prince kneeled down to meet Blitzø's eyes, hoping they would have a sincere and honest conversation.
"I know, Blitzø," Stolas said softly. "And I apologize for causing you worry. Part of me felt I should not have told you this."
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Blitzø was baffled. "They were going to murder you...and not in a good way. Damn shmuckle fucks, Stolas! I was thinking of a prison escape plan, full of 80's montages, to get you out!"
"Really?" Stolas wasn't sure if he was serious or not.
"Well, no...but it could have happened. Look, the point is: how could you?!" Blitzø's frustration was evident in his voice as he questioned Stolas' actions.
Stolas sighed, realizing the weight of his actions and the impact they had on Blitzø. "I just...the thought of you mourning on my grave...I could not bear it."
"And yet you’re still alive." Blitzø sighed...and now he regrets the use of words. "Great...now that music is playing in my mind..."
Stolas looked at Blitzø with a mix of understanding and remorse. He could see the genuine concern in Blitzø's eyes, and he regretted causing him any distress.
"Do you remember our conversation in Ozzie's?"
"Where a huge cock ruined it at all or the other one?"
"The huge cock one." Stolas closed his eyes for a second. "I just...want to say...I'm sorry...for everything. I know I used you for the sexual needs and my...itching. But the more time I spent with you, the more I saw how...you mean so much to me. I never had a sincere love in my life, nothing but insults from that bitch and failed commitment to my daughter...but...it's...it's finally over. Stella is gone from my life and Octavia is...she is now ready to see Hell as Marquise of Goetia and my successor."
"Wait-wait, hold on." Blitzø showed his palms. "Don't tell me you lost your royal tittle."
Stolas sighed and looked down for a moment before meeting Blitzø's gaze once again. "Yes, Blitzø. I have lost my royal title as the Prince of Hell. The trial, didn't end well for me...and I still have to transfer my old mansion to Octavia's own possession..."
"So let me be straight: you lost your prince tittle, all your riches, your own mansion all because of your daughter...and you're willingly letting it all go for Octavia?"
"Yes" Stolas was straight to the point...
"...Damm that's some hardcore ass shit." Blitzø have to give an credit...it still didn't calm him a bit. "But Sweet horse, I could have crashed into your mansion...what the fuck, Stolas?"
"Blitz, riches don't give you happiness."
"Says you, I live in the shithole that is Imp city. At least a nice apartment will do just fine"
"Well, with the money you're agreed upon you could buy a decent penthouse in Greed Ring...which I was hopping to ask: do you mind if I settle down with you for now? Via is staying over at her great aunt for a little while, and the mansion feels empty...can I move in?"
"Move in with me?" Blitzø stared at Stolas, his eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected request. He hadn't anticipated Stolas asking to move in with him. It took him a moment to process the words before he finally spoke up. "Are you sure about that, Stolas? I mean, it won't be an easy adjustment for you...."
"I won't be a burden, just a little a corner in your apartment and I'm okay with that."
"Well, I guess...though Loonie won't be happy...but I will talk with her."
"Thanks, sweetheart. You're the best." Stolas caressed Blitzø's cheek.
"Yeah, well, I can't help it if I'm irresistible," Blitzø teased, his voice laced with playful arrogance.
"Oh, you flatter yourself too much, my dear Blitzø." Stolas chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "But still...thank you so much."
"You're stuck with me now. So don't mention it. Just another day in the life of Blitzø, the savior." Blitzø replied with a smirk. "So, what exactly happened? I mean, aside from the obvious accusations of adultery."
"Turns out the entire thing was just a ruse. They tried to force Octavia into one of the houses through my "death succession". And you won't believe me, The Princess of Hell herself, came into the rescue."
"That girl who opened the hotel?" Blitzø's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How did she save you?"
"Played Ars Goetia with their own little game: she schemed her way to blackmail and then provided evidence. Got Andrealphus under house arrest...good riddance."
"Damn, that's quite the intervention." Blitzø let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "And here I thought she was nothing but a cute bimbo."
"Indeed, she does." Stolas ignored the "bimbo" part. "Octavia and I owe her a tremendous debt of gratitude. Without her, I wouldn't even be here."
"Well, she definitely earned some points in my book." Blitzø leaned back, crossing his arms. "I'll have to thank her myself for saving your sorry ass....do you think she is heterosexual?"
"Blitzø..." Stolas warned, not appreciating this.
"Hey, I was joking!"
Stolas couldn't help but shake his head with a soft chuckle, deciding to let Blitzø's joke slide. He understood that Blitzø often used humor as a way to cope with serious situations.
Stolas and Blitzø once more sat in an awkward silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Neither of them dared to look at each other. They both fidgeted, their gazes fixed on anything but each other.
Suddenly, as if by some unspoken agreement, they both opened their mouths simultaneously, ready to break the silence. But before any words could escape, they quickly shut their mouths again, exchanging nervous glances. It was clear that both of them were struggling to find the right words to say.
"You want to say something?" Blitzø asked him first.
"You did too."
"Nah, you go first."
Stolas took a deep breath and decided to take the leap. He couldn't bear the awkwardness any longer.
"Blitzø...is it truly over for us?"
Blitzø's eyes widened in surprise at Stolas's unexpected admission. He hadn't anticipated Stolas starting the conversation...about them.
"I just...I-I was hopping that you and I could...watch a movie or something." Stolas finished with a very awkward tone. His words hung in the air, tension building as he waited for Blitzø's response.
"And what after that, another BDSM session?" Blitzø mumbled in distrust, still taken aback by the unexpected turn of the conversation.
"NO-NO!" Stolas showed his palms. "No, just you and I watch something...no sex or anything."
"I don't know, Stolas." His's gaze shifted nervously, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He had kept his feelings for Stolas buried deep, unsure if they would ever have a chance at something more....he still doesn't know.
"I...yeah, I can see why you hesitate." Stolas had to admit he pushed Blitzø too far. "But I promise you: I try to do good to you. Could you...give me another chance?"
A moment of silence passed between them as Blitzø mulled over Stolas's words. The memories of their shared moments, both good and bad, played like a slideshow in his mind. He couldn't deny the connection they had, the depth of their emotions. Here, Blitzø looked back at Stolas, letting it out.
"I guess...we can make it work."
And that's the only thing needed for Stolas to hear. The Princess of Hell really blessed this Goetia to make things right...
"Thank you, Blitzø....thank you so much." Stolas reached out and took Blitzø's hand, their fingers intertwining. It was a gesture of tentative hope, a symbol of their willingness to embark on a new journey...for their own redemption.
The Ex-Prince of Goetia then pulled Blitzø closer, embracing his dearest love of life in a tight hug. Blitzø was momentarily taken aback by Stolas's sudden embrace, but he soon melted into it, wrapping his arms around Stolas in return. The awkwardness and uncertainty that had hung between them dissipated, replaced by a warmth and familiarity they had missed.
"Damn you...you softy." Blitzø buried his face in Stolas's feathers. He knew it wouldn't be easy, that they would have to face their demons and work through their past issues. But in that moment, as they held each other...maybe there was a chance.
A chance to begin again.
...
...
"HEY, WHAT THE FUCK!?"
Both Blitzø and Stolas got startled, as the voice came...bellow them? He noticed that Millie's vomit pierced enough of the concrete that it managed to make a gap between Seventeenth and Sixthteenth floor...and now I.M.P and some barely known animation production company called "HorseSpindle Toons" are sharing a gap on the floor.
"We are trying to create an adult animated comedy web series over here!" Complained some kind of female animator, illustrator, comic creator, and voice actress imp from below, through the hole.
"Oh, yeah?!" Blitzø went on the offensive, going to that hole and peeking his head. "Well, good for you! How about you animate a comedy about me and my company, you bunch of fourth-wall breakers!"
"Don't make me create a spin-off to Hazbin Hotel, starting with you and Richard Horvitz, Brandon!"
"Try me, Vivienne! Best if you-"
Stolas didn't even understand as Bran-Blitzø and some kind of animator were screaming at each other, something about meta jokes and what not...and he could not help but smile even more.
"Oh, Blitzø...you're one helluva boss!"
Notes:
Yes...it's a harmless meta joke at end...
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) Crimson, you sure about these fools? They barely look like they can kill a simple Canditatus in a fair fight." - (Wrath's High Dialect/Demonized Latin)
2) "Appearance can be deceiving, my Centurion. I myself dislike them, but even I can see they are very capable when it comes to doing the impossible. If someone can apprehend that bitch once and for all, that would be them and no one else." - (Wrath's High Dialect/Demonized Latin)
3) "Then the Mighty Satan and Imperious be on your side if it's true, Crimson. Proceed, Frumentario." - (Wrath's High Dialect/Demonized Latin)
4) "Goodbye, my brothers and sisters in Satan" - (Italian)
Chapter 30: Long May She Reign...
Summary:
"It is not titles that honor men, but men that honor titles." - Niccolo Machiavelli
Notes:
Yeah, the chapter is big....I can't help it. At the minimum if you don't care about Phenex and Octavia's relationship, I recommend at least read the last parts as they more important to the plot.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
September 23, 2025, AD (101 Days Before the Next Purge), 11:17 AM.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Somewhere near The Ring of Wrath and The Ring of Pride start/The Castle-Town of Phenexia
The castle town of Phenexia stood nestled among rolling hills, its cobblestone streets winding through quaint shops and bustling marketplaces. With its towering spires, vibrant gardens, and cascading fountains, it was a sight that seemed straight out of a fairy tale. But it was at the break of dawn, as the sun peeked over the horizon, that the true magic of Phenexia came alive.
The first rays of light painted the sky in hues of golden orange, casting a warm glow over the picturesque town. As the sun climbed higher, its gentle touch brought the colors of the castle to life. The walls, adorned with intricate tapestries of Phenex's own heraldry, seemed to shimmer with renewed vibrancy. The stained-glass windows caught the light, scattering prismatic patterns across the courtyard.
In one of the castle's master bedrooms, the gentle morning light filtered through silk curtains, casting a soft, ethereal glow on the room's ornate furniture and delicate trinkets. The air was still, disturbed only by the occasional chirping of Hell's birds outside. At the center of the room, a large canopy bed held a figure nestled beneath layers of luxurious blankets.
Octavia, The Marquise of...something, lay sound asleep, her chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm while clutching the pillow in embrace. She seemed untouched by the weight of her newest royal responsibilities.
Until it didn't.
The calm serenity was abruptly shattered by a familiar tune emanating from the nightstand. Octavia's phone buzzed and vibrated, jolting her awake. Groggy and disoriented, she fumbled for the device, missing it three times before managing to reach it.
Yawning, Octavia turned off her alarm clock and glanced at the screen, her left eyebrow raised in curiosity. It turns out that while she was sleeping, she had received some messages.
"My favorite Marquise Starfire."
"I'm happy to write to you that I managed to make a deal. Moxxie and Millie (They are Blitzy's employees if you don't remember them) will accompany you. Your friend Loona is also joining you. Blitzo won't be, but I'm sure you're more than happy about it."
"I'm back at our mansion, making changes as your Great-Aunt Phenex instructed. I may try to pay a visit to you if there isn't any need for my attention at our home. Hope you're having a great time with your Great Aunt."
"Hm, very cute." Octavia chuckled to herself as she read her father's message. But still, it's nice that Loona will come...there is still some of Octavia's concern for Loona's behavior in front of Charlie. The Princess of Hell is, of course, very nice and kind, but...even she has her limits.
Setting her phone aside, Octavia stretched her limbs and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She rubbed her eyes before glancing around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. Despite the grandeur of her aunt’s castle, it's still not her father's mansion, making her miss the old bedroom...talk about homesickness.
With a sigh, Octavia stood up and made her way to the wardrobe to get her usual pink dress with a shawl.
*Knock-Knock*
"Your majesty, your breakfast has arrived."
"JUST A MINUTE!" Octavia returned the shout, quickly searching for her black leggings and her underwear to cover herself up.
Putting them on, Octavia walked over to the door and opened it, revealing a Goetian female standing with a tray of food. She’s a white Snowy Owl, with smooth purple-gray colors, a sharp black-and-white face, and long yellow plumes that lend her a touch of elegance. Long silver-white hair that nearly covers one of her bright yellow eyes. She is very young, nearly the same age as Octavia.
"Morning, your majesty."
"Sup, Olivia." Octavia moved away so she could bring food to the table.
"Try to use a more elegant speech pattern when you're talking to your subjects." Olivia sighed. She nevertheless went inside and carefully placed the tray on the nearby table.
Octavia raised an eyebrow at Olivia's comment but decided not to argue. She knew that her Lady-In-Waiting was always trying to teach her proper etiquette and manners befitting her position. Octavia, however, preferred to speak more casually—not that Olivia does it too often.
"Seriously, do we really have to be so formal all the time?" Octavia replied, rolling her eyes playfully. "It's not like anyone is watching us right now."
"Easy for you to say, my lady. Phenex has high standards for us." Olivia tried to be formal, but the façade is breaking apart. She arranged the plates of food with precision.
Octavia approached and inspected the spread, her eyes lighting up at the sight of fresh fruits, a steaming cup of tea, and, of course, the main plate of fried dead mice.
"Huh, what's that?" Octavia pointed her talon at that bottle, taking a seat while Olivia prepared the knife and fork for the newest Marquise.
"Kalamata or Greek olives, all straight from Greece."
"You mean that Mediterranean part of Earth? How did she manage to get them?"
"Her excellency has a long history with Greece and the region of Egypt. At one point, she even did a favor for human Pharaoh Senusret I by setting herself on fire in Heliopolis ."
"And why would she do that?" Octavia asked, holding herself back from smirking.
"Oh, she just loved to hang around in ancient Egypt. But today, she has a steady supply of Earth's products for us to enjoy here in Hell." Olivia explained as she wrapped a Fashionable Dining Scarf around Octavia's neck. "Do you want me to pour oil on your mice for taste? If you don't like it, I will remove it."
"Oil on the mouse?" Octavia raised an eyebrow at the suggestion of pouring oil on her fried mice. It was certainly an unconventional choice, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Why not? Let's give it a try."
Olivia nodded. She uncorked the transparent bottle of oil and carefully drizzled a small amount over one of the fried mice on Octavia's plate. The aroma of the oil mingled with the savory scent of the crispy mouse, creating an intriguing combination.
Octavia took her knife and fork, cutting a small piece and bringing it to her mouth. The first bite was a burst of flavors—crunchy, greasy, and with a hint of richness from the oil. It was surprisingly delicious, with the oil adding a subtle tang and enhancing the overall taste.
"Mmm, okay, that's impressive. I give Greece credit for this."
"I'm glad you like it, my lady." Olivia smiled, pleased with Octavia's response. She poured the rest of the oil on her food. "Phenex always finds a way to bring unique and delightful experiences to our meals."
"I'm sure she does." Octavia muttered, starting with her breakfast.
As Octavia savored her breakfast, Olivia took a moment to step behind her Marquise and address her unruly hair. With gentle and skillful hands, she carefully combed through Octavia's hair, taming the wild strands and creating a more polished, beautiful straight -down hair. It still needs some major mixtures, but for now it will do fine.
Octavia closed her eyes, relishing the soothing touch of Olivia's hands in her hair. The warm morning light streaming through the window added a sense of serenity to the moment.
"Has someone ever told you how amazing your hands are, Oli?" Octavia smiled. She nearly finished the mice on her plate.
"That's why I'm Phenex's personal masseuse." Olivia chuckled softly as she continued to work through Octavia's hair, her fingers moving with precision and grace.
"You are?" Octavia asked again, and her peer returned a nod. She finished the rest of the mice before asking further. "Could you massage my neck? It sometimes gives me pain out of nowhere."
Olivia paused for a moment, her talons still gently running through Octavia's hair. The request caught her off guard, but she couldn't deny the flutter of sweetness and cuteness from Octavia's request.
"It must be the stress on your neck muscles. But of course, my lady." Olivia replied, her voice soft and warm.
She slowly moved her hands from Octavia's hair to her neck. Her talons traced delicate patterns along the nape of Octavia's neck, applying just the right amount of claw pressure to release any tension that lingered. Somehow Olivia's claws send a vibrant wave of pleasure.
"Oh...you're so good." Octavia let out a soft sigh, her eyes drifting closed as Olivia's skilled hands worked their magic. The sensation sent shivers down her spine...so good.
"I'm glad my hands can bring you comfort... and your relaxed posture makes you look cute."
"Pff, cute..." Octavia finds it ridiculous. "I'm a wrecking mess of a Goetia."
"And yet I still find you quite beautiful, my lady. But once Phenex and I properly make you a Marquise of Goetia, you will be the most attractive bird out there." Olivia remarked with a sweet voice.
"Oh, uh, thank you, Oli." Octavia's smile remained on her lips, but her cheeks flushed with a subtle blush as Olivia's words touched her deeply. There was something about the way Olivia spoke and the tenderness in her touch that made Octavia's heart skip a beat.
As Olivia's hands worked their magic, Octavia's shyness became more apparent with each passing moment. Compliments had always managed to make her flustered and unsure. Octavia was not accustomed to receiving praise or kind words directed at her, and each compliment from Olivia sent a rush of embarrassment coursing through her veins.
Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of gray, and she found herself averting her gaze, unable to meet Olivia's eyes directly. The intensity of her own emotions overwhelmed her, and Octavia struggled to find the right words to respond. The weight of her own insecurities threatened to hold her back, trapping her in a cycle of hesitation and self-doubt. But amidst it all, a small spark of courage flickered within her.
Lost in her thoughts, Octavia glanced at Olivia, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. But Olivia returned it with a smile, forcing the young owl to avert her eyes, feeling a wave of heat rush to her cheeks.
"So...umm. Do you do this often, Olivia?" Octavia awkwardly started.
"With what, lady Octavia?" Olivia responded, still working her magic on Octavia's neck.
"I suppose..." Octavia's voice wavered slightly as she continued. "You know, like...massaging my Great Aunt? You must be paid a lot for this?"
Olivia's hands paused for a moment, her touch lingering on Octavia's neck as she considered the question.
"I do offer my Mistress massages on a somewhat daily basis. And yes, she does offer me a good payment." She resumed once more.
"Ah, so it's all about the money for you, then?" Octavia responded in surprise, her gaze shifting back to Olivia as she processed the unexpected response.
"Kind of. Like I told you, my father is Great Duke Focalor and my younger brother is a knight of Ars Goetia. It's usually a custom to offer your daughter in service of very high-ranked Goetia, hence why I'm here, being in service to Phenex...and to you, Marquise Octavia. But Phenex makes a very generous payment, and it helped a lot with my studies at the University of Lemegeton. I am currently pursuing a degree in Arcane Studies, with a focus on the foundations of our magical abilities." A faint hint of excitement flickered in Olivia's eyes as she replied,
"Arcane Studies?" Octavia's eyes widened with interest. "That's a worthy pursuit. What specific areas within Arcane Studies are you drawn to?"
"I'm particularly intrigued by the study of elemental magic and its applications. It's amazing how different elements can be manipulated to create spells and bring about extraordinary effects."
"Yes, it's awesome." Octavia nodded, fully agreeing with her. "I'm usually interested in taxidermy, but sometimes I get myself to try new spells..."
"How has it worked out for you?"
"Not good. Once I blew up my room because of that."
"Well, that's any Goetian Student's nightmare in an Arcane Studies degree." Olivia chuckled.
"Yeah, it's true." Octavia could not help but smirk at Olivia's remark.
After their shared laughter subsided, Olivia gently withdrew her hands from Octavia's neck, signaling the end of the massage. Octavia let out a contented sigh, caressing her own neck. Olivia walked towards Octavia's wardrobe and grabbed Octavia's remaining clothing: a pink dress, a black feathery shawl, socks with black heeled boots, a pink choker, and a bra.
"Once you're done with your breakfast, Octavia, your Aunt Phenex wants to see you at the west wing of the castle, the recreational hall." Olivia returned with the clothing to Octavia, ready to dress her up. "It's regarding your future adventure in Limbo. She will explain it herself."
"Got it." Octavia nodded, getting up from the chair. There was an awkward silence between them before she left it. "Do you mind if I do it myself?"
"Of course, my lady," Olivia said, offering the rest of her clothing. Octavia took the bra from Olivia's outstretched hand and thanked her quietly.
Olivia, in the meantime, would approach Octavia's bed to fix it up. With Olivia's back turned, Octavia quickly removed her nightshirt and changed herself into the undergarment, feeling a slight discomfort at the presence of another person in the room. She then reached for the pink dress and slipped it on, smoothing out the fabric as it cascaded down her frame. She put the black feathery shawl on her, ending it by putting her boots on and the choker.
"Alright, I'm ready," Octavia announced.
Olivia was already done with the bed. She turned around, her gaze sweeping over Octavia's appearance. A small smile played on her beak as she nodded approvingly.
"Stunning as ever, Marquise Octavia. The colors of black and gray suit you perfectly."
"I just love this clothing; I'm not used to formal attire." Octavia blushed at the compliment.
Olivia approached Octavia with a gentle grace and reached out to lightly adjust the shawl, ensuring it draped elegantly on Octavia. With a delicate touch, she straightened the pink dress, smoothing out any creases, ensuring that Octavia looked her best.
"It fits you perfectly. But let's not forget the important symbol that signifies who you really are."
And last but not least, Olivia moved to her dressing table and retrieved her crown, which was given to her by Phenex to honor Octavia's new role as Marquise. She helped place the crown on Octavia's head, adjusting it until it sat perfectly atop her carefully styled hair. The crown added a regal touch to her appearance.
"And there you have it, your excellency." Olivia brought her talon to her beak, wondering if there were any necessary additions to be made to Octavia's looks.
"How do I look?" Octavia gazed at herself in the mirror. The pink dress, black feathery shawl, boots, choker, and now the crown on her head all came together to create a striking image...and it's not overdone.
"You look absolutely magnificent," Olivia replied, a genuine admiration in her voice. "Like I said: You are a true representation of elegance and authority."
"Cool...think I can order my future legionaries to perform the Harlem shake, Olivia?"
"That's a dead meme, your excellency."
"...You're no fun."
Olivia couldn't help but chuckle at Octavia's playful disappointment. "I'm sure you'll find plenty of creative and inspiring ways to lead your legionaries, Marquise Octavia. But let's not keep Phenex waiting any longer."
"Yeah, we should." Octavia agreed, she straightened her posture and gestured for Lady-In-Waiting to proceed. "Lead the way, Olivia."
With a graceful stride, Olivia led the way out of Octavia's chamber and into the grand corridors of the castle. Octavia grabbed her phone and followed closely behind.
Her Aunt's castle was abuzz with activity, with servants and guards going about their duties with purpose. They exchanged respectful nods, bows, and greetings as Octavia passed by, acknowledging her newfound position as Marquise. Even today, it feels weird how much respect she receives; before, there was just barely any acknowledgment.
The doors to the recreational hall loomed before them. As they approached, Octavia could hear Phenex's singing voice emanating from the room, accompanied by the sound of a conversation.
Olivia gently pressed her ear against the door, listening intently for a moment. She then turned back to Octavia, her expression calm yet focused. "It seems her majesty is engaged in conversation, but we can enter respectfully and make our presence known."
"But why?" Octavia noticed Olivia's cautious demeanor. The Lady-In-Waiting seemed to be slightly on edge. "Phenex is very nice, Oli. You seem a bit afraid of her."
"Phenex can be both kind and charming, but her wrath is a tale of horror." Olivia's expression turned serious as she replied in a hushed tone. "There was once a talented painter in Phenexia. Our Lady of Rebirth admired his work greatly and commissioned him for a significant sum of money to create a portrait of herself. However, the painter became tempted by the allure of wealth. He stole the money entrusted to him by Phenex, hoping to lead a life of luxury. When Phenex discovered the theft, she confronted the painter."
"What did Phenex do?" Octavia's brows furrowed in curiosity.
"At first, Phenex showed remarkable forgiveness." Olivia's voice dropped to a near whisper as she replied, "She offered the painter a chance to repent and return the stolen funds, hoping that he would learn from his mistake. But unfortunately, the painter succumbed to greed once again, stealing from Phenex a second time. I cannot speak of what happened to the painter after the second theft. All I can say is that Phenex's wrath, when provoked, can be swift and unforgiving."
"Damm..." A shiver ran down Octavia's spine. It felt uncanny to hear that her Great-Aunt Phenex can be angry. "Talk about 'pissing on someone's cereal,' huh?"
"My regality says otherwise....but my own mind believes it's a good analogy." Olivia smirked. "Just remember to be mindful of the power and influence that Phenex wields. Great-Niece or not, just be careful around her, okay?"
With a graceful stride, Olivia opened the door and gestured for Octavia to enter the room. Octavia took a deep breath, steeling herself as she stepped through the doorway. The room was adorned with lavish decorations and furniture, befitting Phenex's regal stature.
Octavia's Maternal Great-aunt stood near one of the corners of the hall, one hand holding the phone and the other on her left hip. Guess that explains her voice they heard loud enough. It turns out she wasn't alone, as there was another Goetia sitting on one of the chairs with a nervous foot ticking. That was Shax Goetia, also a fellow Marquis of Goetia.
As Octavia entered the room, Phenex's chatting on the phone didn't stop, but her attention shifted towards her great-niece. A warm smile graced her beak, acknowledging Octavia's presence, but she had to wait. Marquis Shax also nodded, silently acknowledging the presence of Marquise Octavia. Nevertheless, he also focused his attention on Marquise-Elector Phenex, who already wanted to be done.
"♪ No, Fionna. I had no clue prior to that. ♪" Phenex continued her conversation.
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ Don't give me that tone. I know you're pissed off, but that doesn't mean you have to behave like my niece does, hmm yes. ♪"
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ All I want is for you and Shax to settle this peacefully. The fallout of Stolas and Stella Goetia had enough of the electorate's plates already. Now you two are just dessert on that. ♪"
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ No, I never got married. I'm free-spirited, and I really don't care whom I'm sleeping with. ♪" Phenex sighed. She glanced at Octavia and gave her the "I'm tired of this bullshit" gesture. Octavia couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at Phenex's exasperated expression.
Olivia obviously knew it would take some time. She silently nudged Octavia and discreetly pointed towards a corner of the room. Octavia followed Olivia's gaze, and her eyes widened with excitement. There, nestled amidst the lavish decorations, was a sleek flat-screen TV and an Xbox One. It was a surprising sight in such a regal setting, but Octavia's inner "gamer girl" couldn't resist the temptation.
With a mischievous grin, Octavia turned to Olivia and nodded appreciatively, understanding what Olivia meant. Without wasting another moment, Octavia swiftly moved towards the gaming setup. She connected the Xbox One to the TV, eagerly anticipating playing that one banned Video Game in Hell.
She scrolled through the game library, and her eyes landed on "Doom Eternal." It was a perfect choice: fast-paced action, intense battles, and unholy shit music by that mortal Mick Gordon. With the controller in her hands, Octavia settled into a comfortable position, ready to immerse herself in the demon-slaying mayhem.
"♪ Fionna, I understand that you're upset. But let's not blow this out of proportion, shall we? ♪" Phenex continued her conversation on the phone. The discussion with Fionna seemed to be an endless back-and-forth, but Phenex maintained her calm demeanor.
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ Yes, yes, I know Shax made a poor choice. But you - ♪"
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ No, I'm not condoning his actions. I'm just saying that we should approach it more...calmly. ♪"
*Unintelligible very long rant from the phone*
"♪ Uhuh ♪" Phenex listened to that rant.
*Another unintelligible, very long rant from the phone*
"♪ Yep ♪" Phenex listened to that rant...again. As Phenex patiently endured the unintelligible rants from the other end of the phone, she couldn't help but glance at Octavia's screen.
Octavia, fully engrossed in the game, skillfully maneuvered Doomslayer through the map level of Doom Eternal. Through the gameplay, she dodged the imp's fireballs and hell knights, and she even quickly defeated the Doom Hunter with ease.
"♪ Huh, impressive. ♪" Phenex commented to herself. But she didn't realize Fionna heard it quite well.
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ Hmm? Oh, sorry about that. I spaced out. ♪" Phenex's attention snapped back to the ongoing phone conversation as Fionna's voice grew louder and more insistent. "♪ Anyway, I - ♪"
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ Sure, it's - "
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ I know. I- ♪"
*Unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ Fionna, she is not a prostitute! She is a concubine for hire! ♪" Phenex complained; patience was wearing thin. She quickly glanced at Octavia, hoping that her great-niece hadn't caught that particular statement. Octavia seemed oblivious to the conversation happening around her as she still focused on the game.
*Unintelligible, very long rant from the phone*
"♪ Fionna, I appreciate your concerns. ♪" Phenex interrupted Fionna mid-sentence. "♪ I think it's best if you take some time to cool off and gather your thoughts. Goodbye. ♪"
Phenex then swiftly ended the call and dropped her phone onto a nearby table. She released a sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary respite from the exhausting conversation. Turning her attention to Shax Goetia, who had been anxiously waiting, she addressed him.
"♪ Your wife is charming...to say the least. ♪" Phenex said with a wry smile,
"Yes, she certainly has a way of making her voice heard." Shax chuckled nervously, recognizing the truth in Phenex's comment. Still, there was a loud grumble. "And now she will try to destroy my reputation."
"♪ No wonder...If I had a husband and he cheated on me with some Goetia Concubine, I would be very livid as well. ♪"
"At least it wasn't an Imp!" Shax tried to defend himself.
"♪ So I hear these days. ♪" Phenex slowly shook her head. It's getting old already. "♪ So what are you planning to do? ♪"
"I'm more worried for her brother, Duke Sallos. She could use him to force concessions on me. Hence, I'm asking you to change my levy contribution to you in the meantime."
"♪ How much? ♪"
"25% on you for now."
Phenex's wry smile faltered slightly as she processed Shax's request. She couldn't help but feel baffled by Shax's request.
"♪ You do realize that reducing your contribution may leave the Ars Marquisate Goetia more vulnerable, especially if Duke-Elector Astaroth decides to play dirty anytime soon, hmm yes? ♪" She tilted her head slightly, questioning him.
"I understand that, my Elector." Shax's response showed humility. "But I am more worried that she could use him as leverage to force concessions from me. So I beg of you, reduce my contract for a while."
Phenex sighed softly...it always comes with Marquisate. She, of course, considered Shax's plea, understanding his wish. However, Astaroth exists and breathes down her neck, so no matter what, the Marquisate must be vigilant.
"♪ One condition: since you're contributing 65% of your treasury tax to the Marquisate, I demand the 80% Tax level, and in exchange, you will get 25% for your levy instead. ♪"
"That's expensive, my elector."
"♪ Your own fault in the end, Shax. I offered it: Take it or reject it. ♪" Phenex's tone carried a hint of firmness as she responded to Shax's remark.
Shax Goetia's eyes narrowed for a moment, his mind racing to find an alternative solution that would appease both his concerns and Phenex's need for security. He took a deep breath, deciding to employ his Ars Goetian charm and persuasion.
Leaning forward slightly, Shax's voice lowered, his tone taking on a seductive quality. "My dear Elector Phenex, you know how much the marquisate admires your leadership. It would be a shame for us to find ourselves at odds over such matters. Perhaps there's a way we can address both our concerns without compromising our respective positions."
Phenex raised an eyebrow, unamused. She was aware of Shax's reputation as a smooth negotiator, but she remained cautious.
Shax would come closer, bringing his talons to Phenex's cheek. "Surely it must be tiring and stressful sometimes for you."
"♪ And how do you suggest we fix that, Shax? ♪" Phenex didn't do anything when his talon reached her cheek; her smile still remained the same...albeit annoyed.
"Well, you said you're free-spirited, so...how about you use your hips to do wonders on me in order to help you...get more relaxed? You can call me "Marquis Tonight" for now."
Phenex didn't dignify that response. She instead put her hand on his chest, caressing him for a moment before she turned her eyes at him.
"♪ You're forgetting one thing, Shax. ♪" She cooed as she trailed her hand down below to his waist...
"Which is?" Shax returned, eager for more of that foreplay.
And here, Phenex grinned at him even more...as she got him off the hook. She gripped his groin and twisted it enough that Shax screamed in agony, making him collapse on his knees.
Octavia paused the game and looked behind her, wondering what the commotion was. But Olivia just made a silent sign that it's typical here in Castle Phenexia. More often than not, many Marquises try to offer Phenex sex in exchange for deals that benefit them, and this is one of the examples.
"♪ ‘Tonight’...what shitty flirting skills you have, Marquis Shax. Never forget that I am the Elector, and as long as you are a vassal of the Ars Marquisate Goetia, you will treat me with respect, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex then applies more pressure to his groin. "♪ Is that clear? ♪"
"Y-yes, my Elector!" Shax gasped in pain.
"♪ Good... ♪" Phenex then released him from his agony. "♪ Do you accept my offer? ♪"
"Yes, of course!" Shax grunted more, clutching his groin.
"♪ Then sign here. ♪" Phenex summoned a pair of papers and a feather pen.
Shax, still recovering from the pain, managed to steady himself on his knees and reach out to take the pen from Phenex's outstretched hand. Shax placed the tip on the parchment and began to sign his name, the elegant script flowing across the page. As he finished signing, he handed the pen back to Phenex, who accepted it with a nod of approval. She carefully examined the signature, ensuring its authenticity, before folding the document and desummoning it.
"♪ Congratulations, Shax. You've done well! ♪" Phenex declared, her tone completely sarcastic. "♪ Now get out of my sight. ♪"
"Very well, my Elector," Shax replied as he stood up from his kneeling position. He averted his gaze from Phenex's piercing eyes. "I will take my leave."
Phenex watched him go, her distrust still lingering in her mind. She knew that Shax's departure from the castle was not the end of their concerns. There was a part of her that couldn't shake off the feeling that he might have something up his sleeve, some hidden agenda that could threaten the stability of the Ars Marquisate Goetia.
With a determined expression, Phenex approached one of her trusted guards, a loyal servant who had served her for years. She leaned in close, speaking in a hushed tone that carried a hint of urgency.
"♪ Keep an eye on Shax. ♪" she instructed quietly. "♪ Ensure that he leaves the castle without any surprises for me ♪. I don't want to underestimate his cunning."
The guard nodded and immediately went to catch up with Shax. Phenex watched him leave before she switched her attention to the young Goetias. Her expression softened, a warm smile gracing her lips.
"♪ How is the progress, Via? ♪"
"Kicking ass, Aunt." Octavia focused on the screen, killing off any fodder demons by flaming and chainsawing one gargoyle for a pile of ammo, occasionally killing Dread Knights with a super shotgun.
Phenex took a seat on the couch, her attention fully focused on the game before her. Currently in the game, Doom Slayer dealt a fatal blow to Dread Knight with a super shotgun before he reached the elevator shaft, grabbing the ledge to himself and climbing up to the next floor.
UAC Spokeperson: No one is born a sinner. You have to work hard to achieve success!
"♪ Ah, Arc Complex level. ♪" Phenex realized.
"Yep, Master Level in Nightmare difficulty." Octavia spoke up as she controlled Doomslayer to jump out of the building and into a crashed airplane that was stuck on another building.
"♪ Well, someone is bold. ♪" Phenex observed Octavia's skillful maneuvers, her eyes following the intense action on the screen inside the crashed plane. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her niece's gaming prowess.
But so far, so good, as Doomslayer made his way to the building itself. More and more enemies spawned, even Tyrant or Cyberdemon. But Octavia used Crucible: Doomslayer's sword to deal with the Cyberdemon, chopping him into pieces. Dealing with the big guy, the game summoned Cacodemon, but a simple sticky bomb and combat shotgun dealt with that.
And last, excluding cannon fodder demons, was Arachnotron. For that, Octavia just used Sticky Bombs to destroy the turret and finish off that spider thing with a supershotgun.
"♪ What, not a fan of full auto shotgun? ♪" Phenex chuckled.
"It sucks, sticky bombs are better." Octavia grumbled before realizing that her aunt...knows. "Wait...how do you know this?"
"♪ Oh, come on...it's not like I have an Xbox One just as decoration. ♪ " Phenex laughed. "♪ I may not have as much time as you to indulge in video games, but I do enjoy humanity's industry of video games from time to time, hmm yes. ♪"
"No way!" Octavia's eyes widened in surprise. "Aunt Phenex, you have to show me your gaming skills."
"Are you challenging me, Octavia?" Phenex raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on her beak. "You might be in for a surprise."
"Then I say bring it on!" Octavia offered the controller. "Finish this level by yourself."
"♪ Maybe later, Via. How about the dining room fight as a way to show I'm being serious. ♪" Phenex's smirk widened, and she took the controller in her hands.
The last time Octavia left off was with Doomguy standing on the stairs with his usual cannon fodder. Now with Phenex, she immediately showed she knew what she was doing: using the shoulder-mounted equipment launcher to set the cannon-fodder demons on fire to get more ammo and armor.
At the top, she jumped out of another building into some kind of luxurious building, fighting off the small batch of demons. It won't be very interesting until Doomslayer reaches the elevator room with the green-lighted button. He pushed the button, but nothing happened. The floor cracked beneath Doomslayer, sending them down to an arena area that seems to be a dinning area....and you know where it goes.
"Oh, shit! It's about to start!" Octavia hyped it, not to mention that the music was about to come....and it did.
With the start of "The Only Thing They Fear Is You" , many heavy class demons spawned, including mancubbus and pinkies, and some prowlers from Octavia's first glance. Phenex first focused on mancubbus who broke the wall to the kitchen, using the frost grenade to freeze him and finishing him with a triple-fire rocket launcher.
The rest was easy; with a single Arachnotron, it was a sticky bomb to destroy the turret, then a full auto shotgun. And the rest was just a super shotgun to the face...maybe a rocket launcher or Ballista if Phenex feels good for herself.
"Hey, you used it again!" Octavia complained.
"Git gud, Via." Olivia defended the mistress' honor for using the full-auto shotgun mod.
"Eat cloaca, Olivia!" Octavia bantered.
"♪ Now, now, my little chicks. Don't be mean to eachother. ♪"
"Yeah-yeah. Also, there is a berserk ball under the bridge, Aunt."
"♪ I know. ♪" Phenex still focused herself on the screen, dodging pretty much everything.
"Then why don't you use it?"
"♪ You will see right now. ♪"
Dealing with the last major threat, the doors to the next level were broken down by the Dread Knight. Phenex instead controlled Doom Slayer to get himself under the bridge, obtaining the berserk mode. And here she easily dealt with that Dread Knight before rushing to kill everyone on her path.
Revenant: Dead
Three Mancubuses: Destroyed.
And Cyberdemon: Cyberbullied.
And there you have it. The bombastic music began to subside, and the chaos on the screen settled, signifying the end of the intense battle. Phenex's Doomslayer finished zombies with flames to restore armor points. Octavia watched the entire thing in awe as her aunt effortlessly showed her mastery of the game in every move she made.
"♪ You said something before, Via? ♪" Phenex grinned as she gave back the controller to her great-niece. "♪ A little wisdom from your elector, Marquise Octavia: never talk shit to your "Fallen Angel turned Goetia" Great-Aunt. ♪"
Octavia couldn't help but burst into laughter, her sassy nature shining through. "Well, Aunt Phenex, I gotta say, I'm not sorry for talking shit. It was all in good fun, you know? Gotta keep things spicy for your age."
"♪ Who you call an old one? ♪" Phenex raised an eyebrow, amusement on her face.
"One word: Mortal Kombat series. I'm quite good at it." Octavia grinned mischievously.
Phenex couldn't help but let out a genuine laugh, finding Octavia's mischievous grin and confident remark utterly adorable. Seeing her great-niece grow up to be bold and bossy filled Phenex's heart with warmth and pride. She couldn't resist the overwhelming love she felt for Octavia in that moment.
"♪ Ugh, why are you such a dorky one?! Come here, you adorable little rascal! ♪"
Without Octavia's consent, Phenex wrapped her arms around her great-niece, pulling her close in a warm and affectionate hug. Octavia was caught off guard by Phenex's sudden embrace. She couldn't help but blush and giggle.
"Aunt Phenex, you're embarrassing me!" Octavia protested, but her voice shown otherwise. She glanced at Olivia, who just gave a thumbs up, saying that it's okay...no judging whatsoever.
"♪ Oh, Octavia, my darling. You have no idea how much joy you bring to my life. Your spirit, your sass, and your loving nature—it's like you're my own daughter. ♪" Phenex whispered as tears welled up in her eyes, even surprising Octavia a bit. She released Octavia from the hug, trying to hide her tears from them, as it was inappropriate behavior in Ars Goetia. "♪ My apologies...I easily get emotional...you know me, hmm yes. ♪"
Olivia quickly grabbed a napkin and handed it to Mistress Phenex. Octavia's eyes softened with affection as she watched her aunt wipe away the tears.
"No need to apologize, Aunt Phenex," Octavia said gently. "I know how much you care about me...and sometimes you do more than my own mother could ever do for me."
"♪ Y-you...really think so? ♪" Phenex's teary eyes widened in surprise. Octavia's words touched her to the core. To be considered a mother by Octavia and to have played such a significant role in her life was a responsibility that Phenex held close to her heart.
Tears of joy streamed down Phenex's cheeks even more. She wiped them with a napkin as best she could, but the makeup had already been destroyed.
As the intensity of their emotions settled, Phenex composed herself. She didn't forget the reason she asked Octavia to come here. Their little video game was a nice distraction...but no matter what, Octavia needs to be ready.
Taking a deep breath, Phenex refocused her attention. "♪ Do you know why I asked you to come here? ♪"
"Oli mentioned it's about my travel to Limbo."
"♪ Oli? I see you've already started giving nicknames to your servants, Via. ♪" Phenex chuckled, glancing briefly at Olivia before returning her gaze to Octavia. "♪ But you are correct. I wanted to teach you some of my tricks...just in case. ♪"
"What tricks?"
"♪ You will see...come with me. ♪" Phenex rose to her feet. "♪ Olivia, you know your orders. Make sure it's ready when we come back. ♪"
Olivia nodded and gave a respectful bow. "Of course, Mistress Phenex. I'll make the necessary preparations."
Octavia paused the game and followed Phenex as they made their way to the courtyard, where the training area was set up. Phenex led Octavia to a rack of swords. There was also a single captain-guard of the Phenexian watch, standing in his position.
"♪ So, Via. Ever had sword training lessons before? ♪ "
"A little bit from my grandfather Andras. But it was a long time ago."
"♪ Interesting, my brother never told me that. But it's very good that you have some experience. Let's start with the basics first," Phenex said, picking up a sword and demonstrating a simple stance. "♪ Always remember: the foundation of swordplay lies in balance, footwork, and control. You must learn to be steady on your feet, swift in your movements, and precise with your strikes. ♪"
Octavia attentively watched as Phenex moved with grace and fluidity, her every motion deliberate and controlled.
"♪ Now, try mimicking my stance," Phenex instructed, gesturing for her to take a wooden sword.
Octavia took the wooden sword offered by Phenex, mirroring her great-aunt's stance as best she could. She adjusted her grip, positioning her body in alignment with Phenex's example.
"♪ Good, Octavia. Remember to maintain a firm yet flexible grip on the sword. Your wrists should be supple, allowing for fluid movement. And don't forget to keep your focus on your opponent, anticipating their every move. Now, let's practice some basic strikes. Start with a simple downward strike, leading with your dominant hand. Remember to engage your core for added power."
Octavia nodded and took a deep breath, ready to put her newly acquired knowledge into action. She raised the wooden sword, preparing to strike. But before she could make a move, Phenex interjected.
"♪ How about we make things a bit more interesting?" Phenex suggested it with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "♪ Why don't you try your strikes on me? ♪"
"You sure?" Octavia's eyes widened in surprise. Training with her great-aunt Phenex directly? "Alright, I'll give it a shot."
With a nod, Phenex took a step back, giving Octavia some space. She raised her own sword, a confident smile gracing her lips. She knew that Octavia's strikes would be no match for her years of experience, but she was eager to see her great-niece's progress.
"♪ Remember, Via. This is a controlled training exercise. Focus on your technique and aim for my sword. Let's see what you've learned from my brother. ♪"
Octavia nodded, steadying herself as she prepared for her first strike. With a burst of energy, she swung the wooden sword downward, aiming to clash against Phenex's blade. The impact sent a resonating thud through the air, but Octavia's strike was deflected effortlessly by Phenex.
"♪ Good effort, Octavia. Now, try again. ♪"
"F-fine." Octavia remained undeterred. She unleashed a series of strikes, each one executed with more control and intention. Phenex gracefully parried and countered, showcasing her mastery of swordfighting. Despite Octavia's best efforts, she couldn't quite match Phenex's skill, but she grew more confident with each exchange as Octavia's strikes became more precise and controlled.
Phenex observed her great-niece's progress with pride, knowing that Octavia was growing stronger with each strike. Sensing Octavia's growing confidence, of course the first session of sword training is still far from mastery, but for now it will do fine. Now it's time to switch the dynamics of their training session.
"♪ Impressive, Octavia. Now let us focus on your defensive capabilities. I will show you how to deflect and counter your opponent's strikes. Remember, focus on your footwork and timing."
Octavia nodded, shifting her stance to a defensive position, ready to receive Phenex's attacks.
Phenex advanced then, ready to strike. Octavia shifted into her defensive stance even more, preparing herself to deflect and counter Phenex's attacks.
First sword hit was easy for Octavia, but as the attacks progressed, she found herself struggling to keep up as Phenex's strikes grew faster and more intense.
Despite her best efforts, Octavia couldn't match the speed and precision of her great-aunt. Then a moment of vulnerability struck as Octavia attempted to block a particularly powerful strike. The impact sent a shockwave of force through her arms, causing her to lose her grip on the sword. It clattered to the ground, leaving Octavia momentarily defenseless.
"Damm..." Octavia breathed heavily as she looked up at Phenex.
"♪ Your defensive stance is crucial to protecting yourself. ♪" Phenex explained, gesturing for Octavia to adopt the position once again. "♪ It's not just about blocking or parrying. It's about using your entire body as a shield and staying balanced and grounded. It allows you to adapt and react to your opponent's movements. Use subtle adjustments in your footwork and body positioning to absorb the force of their strikes. ♪"
Octavia nodded. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she adopted the defensive stance once again. This time, she focused on each element that Phenex had emphasized. Her feet, her sword arm, and her core.
As Phenex resumed her attacks, Octavia moved with more intention, using her body to absorb and redirect the force of Phenex's strikes. Instead of meeting each attack head-on, she adjusted her positioning, finding ways to minimize the impact and maintain her balance.
After a few strikes and seeing that Octavia learned how to properly defend herself, Phenex then stopped to begin with the next part.
"♪ Well done, Octavia. Of course, your enemy won't be slow like me. That's why I'm showing you a common trick: counterattack. As your opponent strikes, you can use their momentum against them. When you successfully deflect their attack, seize the opportunity to counter with a swift strike of your own. It's all about timing, you see. I want you to strike at me. Give it your best shot. ♪"
"Are you sure, Aunt Phenex?" Octavia asked and felt a little bit concerned that she would hurt her.
"♪ Absolutely. ♪ " Phenex replied with a confident smile. "♪ Don't hold back. Let your strike be swift. I'll show you how to counter. ♪"
"Alright...here it goes." She took a deep breath, channeling her focus into a single, powerful strike. With a burst of energy, she swung her sword at Phenex. Phenex's response was swift and graceful. In a seamless motion, she deflected Octavia's strike with practiced ease. Using the momentum from Octavia's attack, Phenex smoothly transitioned into a counterattack, aiming her sword towards Octavia's unguarded flank.
"SHIT!" Octavia's eyes widened as she barely had time to react as Phenex's sword neared her. Instinct kicked in, and Octavia quickly shifted her weight, stepping back and narrowly avoiding the strike.
"♪ Very good! You anticipated the counter and evaded it. That's the essence of a successful defense. It's not just about blocking; it's about reading your opponent and reacting swiftly. ♪"
"Yeah, cool!" Octavia's heart pounded with exhilaration; sweat was already getting on her feathers.
"♪ Now, let's continue. It's time for you to learn how to counterattack. I will strike at you, and you must defend and find an opening to counter. Remember everything I've taught you. ♪"
"Okay, got it." Octavia nodded. She adjusted her stance, mentally preparing herself for the incoming strike from Phenex.
In a swift motion, Phenex lunged forward, her sword aimed at Octavia. Octavia's training instincts kicked in as she reacted swiftly, parrying Phenex's strike with a controlled movement. She felt the force of Phenex's attack but used her defensive skills to deflect it.
"Hiya!" Octavia seized the moment and launched a counterattack. Her sword swiftly moved, aiming for an opening in Phenex's defense. Phenex adjusted her own movements and swiftly parried Octavia's counterattack.
"♪ Well done, Octavia!" And that's the basics of sword fighting. Now the last thing for today that I want to show you is combat spells. ♪"
"Oh, come on, Aunt. It's easy: just pull out your grimoire and cast spells."
"♪ Correct, but what if your grimoire got lost, or even worse, you never brought it with you? That's why there are little spells that the Marquisate uses that are very easy to remember: Aard, Axii, Igni, Quen and Yrden sign ♪"
"And how do these spells work?"
"♪ Each spell has its own unique effect and can be cast through the use of hand gestures and incantations. ♪" Phenex explained, summoning a little piece of paper with the symbol of the signs and giving it to Octavia. "Let's start with Aard, the Sign of Force. It allows you to generate a powerful blast of energy capable of staggering or even knocking down your opponents. It can provide a valuable moment to strike or create distance, but since we're in my castle, I won't demonstrate it. ♪"
Octavia listened intently, checking out the piece of paper as Phenex continued.
"♪ Axii, the Sign of Charm, is particularly useful for influencing the minds of others. By casting Axii, you can temporarily subdue or even turn enemies against each other. To cast Axii, you extend your hand like this. ♪"
Phenex demonstrated the hand gesture for casting the Axii sign. She held her palm outward, fingers spread slightly, as if reaching out to touch something. "♪ And as you do, you focus your intention on the target. Then, you speak the incantation, which is 'Aep Dearv!' It's important to project confidence and clarity in your voice to enhance the spell's effectiveness. ♪"
"Noted." Octavia nodded.
"♪ Now, let's move on to Igni, the Sign of Fire," Phenex continued, shifting her focus to the next sign. She held her hand up, palm facing forward, and curled her fingers as if holding an imaginary flame. She then moved her fingers apart, spreading them slightly, as if releasing the flames.
"♪ To cast Igni, you extend your hand and envision the flames gathering within your palm. As you spread your fingers apart, you release the concentrated flames toward your target. The incantation for Igni is 'Igni Ardent!'"
"I got it." Octavia watched closely, absorbing the hand gesture and incantation for Igni.
"♪ Good, now for the Quen, the Sign of Shield. It is a defensive spell that creates a protective barrier around you. It can absorb and deflect incoming attacks, providing a shield of magical energy to keep you safe. ♪" Phenex demonstrated the hand gesture for Quen, forming a circular motion with her hand as if drawing a protective barrier in the air. "♪ To cast Quen, you trace a circular motion with your hand, envisioning the barrier forming around you. As you do, you speak the incantation, which is 'Quen Disari!' This will activate the shield and reinforce your defenses."
"Alright, the last is Yrden?"
"♪ Correct, it's the Sign of Trap. Yrden is used to create magical traps on the ground, slowing down enemies and even weakening them." Phenex crouched down and drew a circular symbol on the ground with her finger, illustrating the activation of the Yrden sign. "♪ To cast Yrden, you trace the symbol on the ground, channeling your energy into creating the trap. As you draw the symbol, you speak the incantation, which is 'Yrden Kern!' This will activate the trap and unleash its effects."
"So, it's like canceling the magical prowess?" Octavia assumed.
"♪ Correct. Yrden is very powerful. With these signs, you have a range of tools at your disposal, both in swordfighting and spellcasting. Now how about you demonstrate what you learned? ♪"
"Demonstrate it, huh?" Octavia couldn't resist it. She extended her hand towards Phenex, fingers spreading slightly as she focused her intention on the target. She chanted the incantation softly under her breath, "Aep Dearv."
As the words left her lips, a subtle energy emanated from Octavia's hand and surged towards Phenex. The effect of the Axii spell took hold, enveloping Phenex's mind in a momentary haze. Her gaze became distant, and a gentle smile played on her lips.
"Octavia," Phenex murmured, her voice slightly dreamy. "♪ I feel... so calm and relaxed. ♪"
Octavia couldn't help but giggle at the sight of her great-aunt's altered state. Phenex continued to stand there, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, unaware of Octavia's mischief. However, Octavia already knew the effects of Axii would only last for a limited time. The spell effect withered away and brought Phenex back to her usual self.
"♪ D-did...did you just cast Axii on me? ♪" Phenex blinked, her eyes refocusing on Octavia with a curious expression on her face.
"Well...I couldn't resist trying it out." Octavia's mischievous expression turned into a sheepish grin.
"♪ Sweet spirit, I hate Axii so much. It can really muddle your mind. Please don't use it on me anymore. I do enjoy having some fun with Axii, but when it's on you, it's the worst feeling you can experience. ♪" Phenex's smile faded slightly as she held her hand on her forehead.
"I kind of like them. They are easy to learn." Octavia admitted. But a genuine question lingered. "But I've been wondering... why did you want me to learn all these signs and spells? Charlie herself is coming, and with her, I'm pretty much safe."
Phenex's gaze softened, her concern evident in her eyes. She motioned for the nearest guards to leave them, and once they were alone, Phenex would then explain.
"♪ I heard from Vassago that Gaap is joining you. I wanted you to learn these signs and spells not because I doubt your safety with Charlie but because I’m worried for you. And young Gaap is not reliable. You are still sure about going to Limbo for the Lesser Key of Solomon book? ♪"
Octavia's face turned contemplative, her beak showing the uncertainty. "I... I'm not entirely sure. The thought of entering Limbo is daunting... I can't help but feel scared, Aunt Phenex. But I owe Charlie a lot. And I want to repay the kindness she has shown me by being there with her."
Phenex nodded, admiring Octavia's bravery. She respected her great-niece's wishes and understood the importance of Octavia finding her own path.
"And again: It's the original Lesser Key. Think of that knowledge. We could -."
Before Octavia could delve deeper into her thoughts, she felt a sudden twinge of pain in her head. She winced, placing a hand on her temple as the headache intensified.
♪ That must be the fatigue. Spell sign casting can take a toll on us, especially those who have Goetic heritage like you and I. You need to take a moment to relax and rejuvenate."
"Yeah, I need to take a breather." Octavia admitted, rubbing her temples in an attempt to alleviate the headache. "Maybe a bath would help too. We're both covered in sweat from all the fighting and training."
Phenex chuckled, recognizing the truth in Octavia's words. She raised her arm and took a whiff, wrinkling her nose playfully.
"♪ And you're absolutely right, Octavia. We could definitely use a refreshing bath." Phenex agreed, placing the wooden swords back on the rack. "How about you and I clean up, relax, and take a moment to unwind. I hope Olivia is done with the preparation."
"Yeah, that sounds reasonable." Octavia nodded. Perhaps a little bit of water will do the trick.
And so, the young Marquise grabbed her black feathery shawl and followed her Great-Aunt to the bathing chambers, arriving there a few minutes later.
It was sort of a pool chamber in the style of Greco-Roman Thermae. The room was adorned with intricately designed marble columns and shimmering mosaic tiles, creating an atmosphere of relaxation and luxury. The air was filled with the soothing scent of fragrant oils and the gentle sound of trickling water—so cozy.
"Damn, I see the taxpayers did their job," Octavia commented, a touch of admiration in her voice as she took in the opulent surroundings. She reached up and gently removed her crown, placing it carefully on a nearby marble ledge.
"♪ Come on, I'm the Elector, Octavia. ♪" Phenex chuckled as she turned her direction toward Olivia, who was busy pouring hot water into vases. She herself is wearing a loincloth. "♪ How's the water, Olivia? ♪"
"A comfortable temperature, my Marquis. Your jacuzzi is also ready, just as you asked."
"♪ Thank you, Olivia." Phenex nodded, already trying to remove her arm plates. "Now, Octavia. There is a dre-"
"Too late, Aunt. I'm going in!" Octavia had already removed all of her clothing and charged towards the pool. Before Phenex could react, Octavia leaped into the air with a spirited shout of "Cannonball!" She curled her body into a tight ball and crashed into the pool with an enormous splash, sending waves of water cascading in all directions.
The force of the cannonball sent water droplets flying through the air, some even managing to land on Phenex's elegant dress, to the annoyance of its wearer. Octavia resurfaced in the water, her feathers dripping with water.
"Sorry, Aunt. I couldn't resist. It was too tempting!" She couldn't contain her laughter as she looked at Phenex
"♪ Pride before fall, Octavia...as we used to say in Heaven ♪." Phenex muttered, busy trying to remove her plating, only to find it a huge hassle for her. "Olivia, please help me with my armor."
Olivia nodded with a smile and approached Phenex, carefully assisting her in removing the cumbersome arm plates, slowly freeing Phenex from the weight of the armor. As the pieces clinked and clattered, Phenex let out a sigh of relief. It was good to have her own feathery body free from all of that weight.
"♪ Thank you, Olivia. ♪" Phenex expressed her gratitude with a nod, moving her dress' straps away, letting her dress fall off her body to reveal her very curved and thin body. "♪ You know what to do next. Do your wonders on our young Marquise over there. ♪"
Olivia nodded with a smile and turned her attention to Octavia, who was still giggling in the pool, enjoying being...alive. The young snowy owl approached the edge of the pool and sat on it, her legs splashing in the water.
"How's the water, my lady?"
Octavia wiped her face from the drops of water.
"Wonderful! Man, it's been ages since I went to the pool. My feathers are-" Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of grey as she realized her state of nakedness in front of Olivia. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest, trying to regain some semblance of modesty. "Oh! I-I'm sorry, Olivia. I didn't mean to...uh, be so careless...should had my swimwear with me, but it's back at the mansion, and I don't know the spell."
"No need to apologize, my lady. It's a bathing chamber of relaxation, after all." Olivia's smile remained warm and reassuring.
"♪ She has seen me naked many times, Octavia. Olivia is your Lady-In-Waiting, the most trusted servant out there. ♪" Phenex called out from the jacuzzi, enjoying the warm bubbles and a cup of the finest wine straight from Caina.
Octavia's embarrassment deepened from Phenex's words, lowering her gaze.
"My lady, there's no need to worry. We are in a private and relaxed environment. Modesty is important, but so is embracing the freedom of being yourself."
"Says the one wearing the loincloth." Octavia had to point out the hypocrisy with a smirk. Olivia's chuckle turned into light laughter at Octavia's remark.
"Well, if that's what it takes to make you feel more comfortable, then I suppose I could remove it." She placed a hand on her hip and playfully raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, no, Olivia! I didn't mean it THAT way!" Octavia's eyes widened, her cheeks flushed in surprise.
"I was only teasing, and I would never want to make you uncomfortable. Please forgive me for any misunderstanding."
"It's not that you're making me uncomfortable; it's just that I don't want to force you to be naked in front of me, Olivia." Octavia awkwardly said that.
"You're not. We're all adult hens here. And it wouldn't be fair If I, as your servant, saw you naked already. Besides, I still need to wash your body, and working with my loincloth can be tedious as it gets wet and slippery."
Octavia's cheeks flushed even deeper at Olivia's straightforward response. She was taken aback by Olivia's openness and willingness to accommodate her request.
"Alright...I-I don't mind it, Olivia."
Olivia nodded and removed her loincloth, now fully naked, just like the young Marquise. Octavia awkwardly turned away, her blush evident.
"Come see me at the other basin when you're ready." Olivia instead grabbed some oils and some sponges, going to the other low, deep basin nearby.
Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Octavia swam herself out of the pool, shaking her arms from the drops, and walked over to the other basin where Olivia was preparing the oils and sponges.
As she approached, she couldn't help but steal a quick glance at Olivia's back. She was focused on her task, her professionalism evident even in this intimate setting.
Olivia noticed Octavia's gaze and offered her a warm smile. Octavia instead just turned her glance away and sat down on the edge of the basin, the warm water lapping gently against her legs while Olivia dipped a sponge into the fragrant oils.
"Is it common that a Lady-In-Waiting washes their lord or lady, Olivia?" Octavia asked, curious.
"It may vary among different houses, but here we do that. Phenex has a lot of baths in order for her feathers to be cleaned and look elegant in front of the rest of the Marquisate. But a Lady-In-Waiting and her master have a form of trust that goes beyond the usual roles of nobility and servant."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"Are you bothered by it?" Olivia smiled, beginning with Octavia's hair. She poured the water on her hair and applied the oil and soap.
Octavia leaned back slightly, closing her eyes, as Olivia worked the fragrant oils and soap into her hair. The warm water cascaded down her scalp, soothing her.
"No... It doesn't bother me, really." Octavia admitted softly, her voice still showing a hint of vulnerability. "I suppose I'm... still adjusting as Marquise. Having you take care of me in this way feels... comforting."
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Olivia winked, still working on her hair. Her hands moved with grace, massaging Octavia's scalp and working the lather through her hair. "A cute, naked servant is washing you right now; what else could a Goetian noble ask?"
"And now you're just teasing me."
Olivia chuckled softly, her fingers deftly working through Octavia's hair. "Perhaps I am, my lady. But I will be honest with you. I just find you very cute and adorable when you're shy, not to mention your white-colored feathers from your chest all the way down to your pelvis really fit your own regality."
Octavia's cheeks flushed at Olivia's words, her shyness becoming even more apparent. She averted her gaze, feeling embarrassed. It was a new experience for her to receive such playful compliments.
"I... thank you, Olivia," Octavia stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your words are kind...even if they catch me off guard."
"Hey, just being open-minded, that's all." Olivia's voice was gentle and sincere as she continued to wash Octavia's hair.
The warm water trickled down Octavia's back, and she couldn't help but let herself relax into the moment. It was as if the gentle touch of Olivia's hands and the soothing ambiance of the bath were washing away her worries, leaving behind a renewed sense of calm.
Olivia reached for a pitcher of clean water and poured it over Octavia's head, rinsing away the remaining soap and leaving her hair feeling soft and refreshed.
"Now, my lady." Olivia set the pitcher aside and reached for a sponge and a fresh bar of soap. "It's time to wash your body. Please stand up, and I will assist you."
With a sigh, Octavia rose from the basin, the warm water trickling down her body. Olivia is coming closer once more, ready with the sponge and soap. She began to lather the soap on the sponge, creating a rich foam that would cleanse Octavia's feathers and her skin with ease, starting with her shoulders.
The steam from the bath enveloped them as Olivia's hands glided over Octavia's skin. Octavia closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment as she felt the warmth of Olivia's touch.
"Is the water temperature alright, my lady?"
"Yes, it's perfect, Olivia. You're so good at this." Octavia nodded, her voice soft and serene.
Olivia smiled warmly at Octavia's compliment, her hands moving with gentle precision as she continued to lather the soap onto the sponge.
The rich lather spread across Octavia's shoulders and down her back, the soft texture and soothing fragrance enhancing the experience. Olivia moved the sponge in gentle circular motions, and the lather spread across Octavia's back, cleansing and rejuvenating her skin. She did the same with her arms and hands, making sure that Octavia's claws would gleam in the sunlight.
Olivia walked around Octavia and positioned herself in front of her. With a soft smile, she dipped the sponge into the warm water and squeezed out any excess. Then, with a gentle motion, she began to lather the soap onto the sponge once more and brought the sponge towards Octavia's chest.
The lather spread across Octavia's feathers, cleansing and revitalizing each delicate strand. Her Lady-In-Waiting's fingers moved with care, ensuring that every part of Octavia's chest was attended to, paying attention to the intricate patterns and hues of her feathers.
Octavia's eyes remained closed, allowing herself to fully immerse herself in the sensations and the trust she had placed in Olivia. The warmth of the water enveloped her, the fragrant soap scent mingling with the steam of the bath. As Olivia continued to wash Octavia's chest, she occasionally glanced up to see how young Marquise was doing. Her closed eyes proves that Olivia is pretty good at her job.
"Do you want me to wash your breast, my lady?" Olivia asked, nearly finished with Octavia's chest and abdomen.
Octavia's eyes fluttered open as she heard Olivia's question, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. She took a moment to compose herself.
"I...would prefer that I wash my...more intimate parts." Octavia's voice carried a hint of vulnerability as she made her request, her gaze meeting Olivia's, but the young snowy owl returned a reassuring smile, gracing her lips.
"Of course, my lady. I completely understand. Just remember: 20 circular motions are recommended. Wash all that you want, and I'll finish myself with your legs and feet." She offered the sponge and soap to her.
Octavia's blush deepened slightly, but she appreciated Olivia's understanding. She gently took the sponge from Olivia's hands and continued to wash the more private areas of her body, following Olivia's advice on the circular motions. Olivia remained nearby on the basin, offering a comforting presence and support without intruding on Octavia's privacy. Once Octavia felt satisfied with her own washing, she signaled to Olivia that she was ready for her assistance with her legs and feet.
"You can sit down now; I can take it from here." Olivia commented.
Octavia took a seat on the edge of the basin, allowing Olivia to take over the task of washing her legs and feet.
Olivia positioned herself in front of Octavia, a gentle smile on her face, as she dipped the sponge into the warm water and squeezed out any excess. She started at Octavia's thighs, her hands moving in circular motions as she worked her way down towards her feet. She paid attention to every detail, ensuring that each part of Octavia's legs received the care it deserved.
"Something tells me you're enjoying this more than you should have." Octavia smirked jokingly.
"Aren't you? It's you who receives that pleasure, my lady."
"Very funny, Oli." Octavia splashed water at Olivia. Olivia gasped in surprise as she quickly wiped the droplets from her face with a playful glint in her eyes.
"Never thought you'd be a foreplayer, my lady." Olivia chuckled. She nevertheless continued to wash Octavia's legs, now starting with her feet. Olivia's hands once again moved with skillful precision, washing Octavia's feet and gently massaging them to relieve any lingering tension. With each stroke and gentle knead, Olivia's touch seemed to melt away any traces of fatigue, leaving Octavia feeling refreshed and revitalized.
"Now, let's get you dried off, my lady." Olivia's voice was gentle. She reached for a soft towel and guided Octavia to stand up from the basin, gently wrapping the towel around her to dry the rest of her body.
As Octavia stood there, her figure wrapped in the soft embrace of the towel, Olivia couldn't help but appreciate the sight before her. The Marquise's regal beauty radiated even in this intimate setting.
Once Octavia was dry enough, Olivia set the towel aside and turned her attention to their next task. "Your Majesty, I believe it's time for us to perform the cosmetics on your face. Shall we proceed to the dressing chamber?"
"You're a cosmetologist?" Octavia found it charming.
"Quite pro at it. You learn a lot as Lady-In-Waiting." Olivia winked, gesturing to follow her.
With that, Octavia and Olivia made their way to the dressing chamber, where an array of cosmetics and tools awaited them. The room was filled with soft lighting, reflecting off the polished surfaces of the vanity table. Octavia took a seat in the comfortable chair.
"So light purple eyeshadow and black eyeliner, right?" Olivia gathered the necessary items.
"Yeah, it's my classic one."
"Alright, classic it is then." Olivia muttered as she began by selecting a palette of eyeshadows, carefully considering the shades that would best complement Octavia's features. She applied a blend of purples and shimmers to create a subtle yet captivating effect.
As she worked on the eyeshadow, Olivia reached for a black eyeliner, holding it up for Octavia's approval. Octavia nodded in agreement, and Olivia proceeded to skillfully apply the liner, tracing a precise line along the contours of Octavia's eyelids. The thin stroke of black added definition and allure to Octavia's gaze, framing her eyes with elegance.
Once satisfied with the eyeliner, Olivia reached for a mascara wand and gently coated Octavia's lashes, giving them length. Each stroke of the wand accentuated Octavia's natural beauty, making her pink face with bright white pupils even more captivating.
With the eye makeup complete, Olivia turned her attention to Octavia's complexion. Here, it doesn't need any big changes, so she selected a foundation that matched Octavia's skin tone perfectly and applied it with a light touch, ensuring a seamless and natural finish. For the final touch, Olivia chose a black lip color in order to enhance Octavia's own beak without overpowering it. She applied a soft shade, adding a little shine to her beak.
With the makeup and grooming complete, Olivia stepped back to admire her work, making a slow nod of pride.
"My lady, you look absolutely stunning," She remarked, a genuine smile lighting up her face. She held the mirror up for Octavia to see her reflection, giving her the opportunity to appreciate the results.
Octavia gazed at her reflection, and there you have it: classic Octavia is back, more or less.
"I will be double-damned, Oli. You managed to perfectly bring back my old makeup."
"♪ I gave her a photo of you, Via. ♪" Phenex, dressed in a comfortable bathrobe, entered the room with a smile on her face. She walked up to Octavia to check out her makeup, also seeing that Olivia did it perfectly. "♪ Hm, I see you've outdone yourself...looks like someone earned an additional payment bonus today. ♪"
"Your kindness is an example in Ars Goetia, Marquise. I am truly grateful to serve Her Majesty." Olivia bowed her head in gratitude.
Phenex chuckled and waved off Olivia's formalities. "Oh, no need for such formalities, my dear. You truly deserve recognition for your talent. But now the final part: the armor itself."
"I'm sorry?" Octavia asked, confused.
"Your Aunt commissioned a suit of armor for you, Octavia—a set of lightweight armor that provides both protection and freedom of movement for you in Limbo. All we need is to measure you up for the blacksmith."
"♪ You're welcome, by the way, Via. ♪" Phenex winked. She then nodded at Snowy Owl to proceed. "♪ Olivia, do the honors. ♪"
Olivia had already grabbed a measuring tape and walked to Octavia.
"Please tell me it's the last thing." Octavia sighed.
"This will be the last thing, I promise." Olivia assured back.
In that case, Octavia stood still as Olivia started with Octavia's height, running the measuring tape from the top of her head down to the soles of her feet. She noted down the exact number.
Next, Olivia moved on to measuring Octavia's weight before she continued the process with various body parts was required for the armor's customization. After that, she measured Octavia's chest, noting the size and shape to ensure it will fit her. Octavia again could not help but blush, but she remained patient throughout the process. Olivia's expertise and attention to detail were evident as she meticulously recorded each measurement, leaving no room for error.
Once the measurements were complete, she stepped back and grabbed the paper where she wrote it all down. Olivia cleared her throat and began to announce the results.
"Lady Phenex. Marquise Octavia's results are this: she stands at an impressive height of six feet and three inches, with a slim and elegant build: 34-24-36 for her bust, waist, and hips, respectively.
"♪ That would make her breast size as large as a cup size A? ♪"
"Correct, my Marquise."
"HEY!" Octavia blushed madly, covering herself with the nearest hanging bathrobe.
"♪ Oh, stop it, Octavia. There's no need to feel ashamed. These measurements are essential for creating armor that fits you perfectly. It's merely a consideration, nothing more. ♪"
"Plus, Her Majesty of the Electorate herself is a rather...very slim and petite-looking Goetia. We take it seriously that any armor we commission is...fitted."
"♪ Not nice of you to flirt with me, Olivia. ♪ " Phenex chuckled, not serious at all.
"Just stating the obvious, your excellency." Olivia gave a nod, trying to control her blush as she looked up at the notes.
Phenex, sensing the need to change the subject, decided to steer the conversation away from Octavia's measurements. "♪ But anyway, Olivia will pass them on to the blacksmith. They will work their magic to create a truly remarkable piece for you, Octavia. So how about we have a little lunch and then maybe a movie? ♪"
"Yes, a lunch sounds delightful." Octavia, still slightly flustered from the previous conversation, welcomed the idea of a break.
"♪ Very well. Olivia, ensure the measurements are passed on to the blacksmith. And please iron our clothing as well. ♪" Phenex nodded and gestured toward the door for Octavia.
"Of course, Lady Phenex." Olivia nodded in agreement. She handed Octavia's own phone back to her before going to grab all of their clothing. She folded them neatly, preparing to take care of the ironing as requested.
And so, Phenex and Octavia left the bath chambers and walked towards the dining area; both felt like newly born after that amazing bath time. Upon reaching the dining area, they were greeted by the aroma of freshly prepared fruits, skillfully arranged on the table.
"♪ So what you think? ♪" Phenex joined Octavia at the table.
"About what?" Octavia grabbed the apple to take a bite of it.
"♪ Everything: I think the life as Marquise might suit you. ♪"
Octavia savored the sweetness of the apple before responding, contemplating Phenex's words. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. "Feels weird, you know...now my own dad is so obedient."
"♪ That's because you can easily send him to execution if you just wish." Phenex chuckled. "♪ As Marquise, you have more authority and power than before, Octavia. Even Stolas will fear you. ♪"
"I'm not a monster, Aunt."
Phenex's chuckle subsided, and she looked at Octavia with a gentle expression. "♪ No, Octavia, I know you're not. You possess a compassionate heart, and that is a quality to be admired. Power comes with responsibility, and I have no doubt that you will wield it wisely. I already see you honoring your title. ♪"
"You really think so?"
"♪ Of course, I know you have a friendship with that Hellhound girl, which already shows you're very open-minded. Hellhoundphobia is very prominent in Ars Goetia, to the point that I had to reassign poor Marchosias Goetia as far away from Lemegeton as possible. You don't behave like a typical elitist, which means you tend to listen rather than judge. Ars Goetia really needs these traits these days ♪."
"I wonder if my dad is happy about me just taking his place."
"♪ Of course he is. ♪" Phenex found it baffling that she questioned it. "♪ Via, every parent will be proud. Think about it: your child is a powerful Marquise of Goetia, with legions at her disposal and part of the whole Marquisate of Goetia. Do you really think they would not go and say "See? that's my child over here!"
"I hope so..." Octavia's gaze turned distant for a moment, remembering how proud Stolas was when Octavia became a Marquise in front of his eyes. "I guess you're right. It's just...sometimes it's hard to wrap my mind around it all that I became a Spirit of Lemegeton. It feels surreal, yet here I am: wearing a crown and...and... I...I."
Octavia's voice trailed off, her expression shifting from contemplation to sudden discomfort. A sharp pain radiated through her stomach, causing her to clutch her abdomen.
"Via?" Phenex slowly stood up, worried. Even the guards all around gripped their sheathed swords.
"Aunt... something's...wrong." Octavia's face contorted with agony as the pain intensified. She struggled to find her breath, and her voice strained with each word. "The pain...it's unbearable...FUCK!"
The Young marquise collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching her stomach. Chaos ensued as the closest female Goetia servants rushed up with Phenex while Guards surrounded them, all looking around in case of a possible poisoner.
"Tell me what is going on, Via!" Phenex gripped Octavia's arms, urging her to stay strong.
"IT HURTS, IT FUCKING HURTS!" Octavia screamed in pain.
"WHAT HURTS YOU?!" Phenex wanted more than that. Her own heart raced with fear and concern as Octavia's screams echoed through the room. She tightened her grip on Octavia's arms, desperate to understand the cause of her niece's sudden agony. "Tell me, Octavia! Where does it hurt? What's causing this pain?"
Octavia's breath came in short, ragged gasps as tears streamed down her face. She mustered all her strength to speak, her voice strained in anguish. "It's... my stomach! The pain is excruciating. Something's wrong, Aunt Phenex... I don't know what's happening."
"If she...is it time, my lady?" One of the servants muttered to Phenex, caressing Octavia's hand in comfort.
Phenex's eyes widened with alarm as she realized what she meant. "Octavia, did you EVER feel that kind of pain before!?"
"NO!"
"Okay...I got it." Phenex processed the sudden realization. She then looked up her servants. "You there! Find Olivia at the bathing chambers and tell her to get her sweet, feathery ass to Octavia's bedroom right now!"
"Yes, your excellency!" She bowed her head and rushed herself, even if her high heels and dress prevented much mobility.
"Aunt, what is -"
"Shh, it's alright." Phenex lifted Octavia up, "Every Goetia has it; you will be fine and more happy than before! Let your Great-Aunt take care of it!"
Phenex held Octavia close, her arms wrapped protectively around her niece's trembling form, as she rushed herself towards Octavia's bedroom. She whispered soothing words, trying to alleviate Octavia's fear amidst the overwhelming pain.
As Phenex carried Octavia to her bedroom, their steps echoed through the corridor. Octavia's pain continued to escalate, causing her to gasp and groan with each agonizing moment. Phenex's heart ached for her niece, but she remained determined to provide comfort and support.
Upon reaching the bedroom, Phenex gently laid Octavia on the bed, ensuring she was positioned in a way that minimized her discomfort. The room quickly filled with concerned servants and guards, their faces etched with worry.
"Clear the room, all of you! Octavia needs space!"
The room emptied in a flurry of movement, leaving Phenex and Octavia alone. Phenex sat by Octavia's side, her hand softly brushing away strands of sweat-drenched hair from Octavia's forehead.
"Just hold on a little longer, Octavia....Sweet Asherah, where are you, Olivia?!"
"Aunt, I-I-I!" Octavia's breathing grew erratic as another wave of pain coursed through her body. She clutched Phenex's hand. Thankfully, a knock resounded on the bedroom door, followed by Olivia's voice calling out.
"I'm here, my lady!" Olivia swiftly entered the room. She approached the bed. "How is she?"
"Bleeding down there. Olivia, stand by Octavia's side and provide any comfort!"
Olivia nodded and quickly positioned herself by Octavia's side. Octavia's face contorted with agony as the pain intensified. She struggled to find her breath, and her voice strained with each word. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, glistening in the dim light of the room. Phenex knelt by her side, her hand softly brushing away the damp strands of hair from Octavia's face.
"Wh-wha-?!" Octavia tried to ask them, but pain prevented her; even thinking doesn't help as pain crashes it all.
"Sh-sh-sh, stay calm and just do as I say, Via: all you need to do is take a deep breath and push as hard as you can. Got it?"
Octavia's breathing grew erratic as another wave of pain coursed through her body. She clenched her beak, her grip tightening on Olivia's hand. Olivia placed a cool cloth on Octavia's forehead, offering a momentary respite from the intensity of the pain.
"Fuck!" Octavia's muscles tensed as she felt it again. Her brows furrowed, and she instinctively followed her body's cues. Octavia's face contorted with effort as she pushed with all her might.
"There, my lady!"
"I got it! Not my first time!"
...
And just like that, the pain was gone.
Time seemed to stand still as Octavia breathed in and out, now finally able to think further.
"What...what just happened?" Octavia got herself on the elbow, wanting to see what just happened.
Both Phenex and Olivia held something inside the cloth, smiling at it. Phenex and Olivia exchanged glances before the Marquise-Elector gently unfolded the cloth.
And revealed an egg.
"Wh-WHAT?!" Octavia's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in shock. She stared at the egg. Her mind is in complete chaos right now. Panic welled up within her as she considered the implications. "But how?! Aunt Phenex, I've never been in a romantic relationship! It's impossible, I-"
Her thoughts spiraled out of control, and her breath became rapid and shallow. In that moment of overwhelming fear, Phenex lifted her finger, silently gesturing for Octavia to calm down.
"♪ Octavia, my dear, you've been in high school; you studied mortal biology. Tell me, are you familiar with puberty and the menstrual cycle? ♪"
"Well, yes, but -"
"♪ I understand your shock and confusion. But please, take a deep breath and listen to me. ♪" Phenex's voice carried a calm command. Octavia reluctantly took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. She looked at Phenex, her eyes pleading for answers. "♪ Among us, the Ars Goetian women, the journey into womanhood is unique. Just like humans, we also experience our own puberty. But our puberty is unique as it also brings a side effect. ♪"
"What side effect?" Octavia was confused as fuck; she was never taught about this.
"♪ During our adolescent years and at the end of our puberty, our bodies undergo a transformation, and certain processes are set in motion." Phenex paused for a moment, giving Octavia time to absorb the information. "♪ You see, Octavia, our bodies develop the ability to lay eggs. But that also causes your own womb to make a little error in biology in the process. It would develop an egg with no one ever impregnating you before. ♪"
"Think of them as normal chickens from Earth. They lay one egg per day." Olivia explained it more simply.
"So, it's an unfertilized egg, right?" Octavia wanted to be sure, to which Phenex nodded, making Octavia sigh in relief. "Oh, Sweet spirit...dad would have gone insane. But what's with the pain then?"
"♪ As you lay your first egg, it moves through you, and it breaks the inner walls inside you enough that it's very uncomfortable to the point of bleeding. It broke your virginity wall. Despite what you just experienced, I could not be prouder of you. ♪" Phenex smiled at the end.
"Why?"
"♪ Because the First ever successful egg lay is a major event in any Female Goetia's life. There won't be any egg-laying until you get pregnant. It signifies the completion of puberty. No longer are you a teenager, Octavia. ♪"
"♪ But a full-grown adult Ars Goetian woman. ♪"
"I... I'm an adult now?" Octavia whispered, her voice trembling. The weight of Phenex's words sank in.
"♪ Indeed you are. ♪" Phenex smiled warmly, her eyes reflecting pride and affection.
Octavia tried to process the overwhelming revelation of her adulthood, but she remained in a state of trance, her anxiety still palpable. Sensing her lingering unease, it seems that they need to have a talk...as a woman to a woman.
"♪ Olivia, please place Octavia's egg in my master bedroom for safekeeping. I will paint it myself later. ♪"
"Of course." Olivia nodded understandingly and carefully took the egg, stepping away and leaving the room silently to fulfill Phenex's request.
"♪ I can see that you're still feeling anxious. ♪" Phenex began in a soothing tone, taking a seat on the bed.
"More like my entire psyche just wrecked..." Octavia snarled a little bit, still exhausted by what just happened. Octavia sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her emotions. "Normally, when I felt like this before, I would have tucked my beanie into myself and tried to hide from the world. But now... now I feel nothing but anxiety."
"I know...I heard you had depression and mood swings when you were younger, Via. It's okay to feel anxious, my dear. Transitioning into adulthood can be challenging, and it's natural to experience a range of emotions. It certainly won't help your hormones as well."
"Excuse me?" That caught her off guard.
"♪ It's an old Goetian saying: 'old enough to bed.' ♪" Phenex chuckled softly, remembering that one time Andrephallus got..."rallied" in the closet. "♪ Most Goetias of your age experience a spiral of fluctuating hormones as they navigate adulthood. It can make emotions feel even more intense and overwhelming, even the urges. ♪"
"So, basically, you're telling me I might get horny like my dad sometimes is." Octavia blushed slightly.
"♪ Oh, yes. As a young adult, it's natural to experience heightened desires and a range of attractions. Olivia is actually still in her early adulthood, and just like you, she can be moody. It also depends on your sexuality, Octavia. It's a beautiful thing, as it's all part of discovering your own identity and exploring your relationships with others. That's something you and your romantic partner should talk about, not me. ♪" Phenex chuckled at the end.
"I actually never had a romantic partner before." Octavia smiled at that, but that smile barely stood out. A hint of sadness flickered in her eyes as she spoke softly...she barely has any friends other than Loona and Charlie...
"♪ Really? ♪" Phenex was even surprised by that. Octavia is very attractive for her age, and that comes as a compliment on Phenex's part. "♪ But why? ♪"
"No one would have me...or it's just that I'm being myself and not much of a partygoer Goetia."
"♪ Oh, Octavia, you're still young. Romantic relationships will come in due time, and no one is forcing you to even have them; it's up to you. ♪" Phenex's expression softened even further, her empathy shining through. "♪ But I do have to ask, have you ever felt any sexual attraction toward others? ♪"
"I... I don't know; I've never really thought about it. I've always been focused on my studies and learning." Octavia made a stop quick, still thinking it through. "Well, there was a young Goetia boy I shared some classes together. He was a green parrot, and he was a cute and kind guy. Last I heard, he is getting married to a young princess, so...yeah." Octavia's gaze dropped, her fingers nervously fiddling with the fabric of her bathrobe. "I guess boys can be cute...egoistical sometimes, but...cute, I guess."
"♪ Ah, I see. So you like boys? What about girls? You and Olivia kind of flirted. ♪"
"Well, Oli is just such a sweetheart to me. She is cute, sure, but...I just like her...and it's a little bit uncomfortable to talk about that, Aunt."
"♪ I'm very sorry for invading your personal space, Via. I just want to say this: sexual and romantic preferences can be fluid, and it's important to explore your feelings and be true to yourself. ♪"
Phenex's words resonated with Octavia. She appreciated her aunt's acceptance and encouragement to explore her own feelings, but the weight of the day's events was catching up to her. A yawn escaped Octavia's beak, and she couldn't hide her exhaustion any longer.
"Good spirit, I'm so tired..." Octavia admitted, her voice heavy with fatigue. "Our training and that thing right now have drained me."
"♪ You've been through a lot, my dear. You should take a nap and rest for a while. I'll make sure you're not disturbed. ♪" Phenex smiled sympathetically, understanding her completely.
"Thanks, Aunt." Octavia nodded gratefully, feeling the heaviness in her limbs as she began to remove her bathrobe. She slipped under the covers of the bed, letting out a contented sigh as she settled into its warmth. Phenex approached, her gentle presence comforting, and caressed Octavia's cheek.
"♪ Sleep well, my dear. ♪" Phenex whispered softly.
Phenex turned to leave the room, only to stop once again...
"Aunt Phenex..." Octavia's tired voice called out once more, with a hint of childlike innocence in her request. "C-could you sing the twelve astrology signs for me? My dad used to sing it for me. It helps me relax and fall asleep, like counting sheep."
Smiling, Phenex took a moment to clear her throat and then began to sing in a soothing, melodic voice.
" ♪Aries, the Ram, bold and strong, ♪"
" ♪Taurus, the Bull, enduring and long.♪"
"♪ Gemini, the Twins, curious and bright, ♪"
"♪ Cancer, the Crab, nurturing with might. ♪"
(Chorus)
"♪ Leo, the Lion, fierce and proud, ♪"
"♪ Virgo, the Maiden, detail-oriented and endowed. ♪"
"♪Libra, the Scales, seeking harmony, ♪"
"♪Scorpio, the Scorpion, intense and free. ♪"
(Verse 2)
"♪ Sagittarius, the Archer, adventurous and wise, ♪"
"♪ Capricorn, the Goat, climbing towards the skies. ♪"
"♪ Aquarius, the Water Bearer, unique and kind, ♪"
"♪ Pisces, the Fishes, compassionate hearts bind. ♪"
(Chorus)
"♪ Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, ♪"
"♪ Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio's answer. ♪"
"♪ Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces, ♪"
"♪ The twelve signs that the zodiac releases. ♪"
As Phenex sang each line with a gentle and melodic voice, Octavia's eyelids grew heavier, and she slowly drifted off into a peaceful slumber, carried away by the soothing melody of the astrological signs.
Phenex leaned closer, her voice growing softer as she sang the final notes. With delicate care, she tucked the blanket around Octavia, ensuring her comfort and warmth. The room was enveloped in a serene stillness as Phenex watched over her slumbering niece, her love and protectiveness shining through.
The Ars Goetia often misjudged Phenex, labeling her as rebellious and unloyal. But as she gazed upon Octavia's peaceful face, a reflection of innocence and trust, those words held no weight. In this tender moment, Phenex's role as a nurturer and caregiver was undeniable. She knew that being a good mother wasn't defined by conforming to societal expectations, but rather by the unconditional love, support, and guidance one provided to their child. And in that quiet room, as Octavia breathed softly in her sleep, Phenex proved that she possessed the qualities of a devoted and loving mother figure....
And the true mother that Octavia deserves...
"Twinkle, twinkle, little Starfire," Phenex planted one last tender kiss on Octavia's forehead before carefully going to the exit. She took one final look at Octavia's sleeping face...so cute...and sometimes part of Phenex wants to have a child, but at this point that ship sailed and sank at the bottom of the ocean.
Phenex closed the door, leaving her niece in the embrace of dreams. But as soon as the door clicked shut, a wave of concern washed over her face. Her worry for Octavia's well-being in Limbo was ever-present, gnawing at her heart like an insistent ache—to the point of tears....is this what it feels like when you're so attached to someone?
"I'm sorry, Via. But I'm doing this for you." Tears welled up in Phenex's eyes as she closed them for a brief moment. She didn't like it, but those Paimon's sons of bitches left her no choice.
Phenex's purpose-driven high-heeled footsteps echoed through the halls as she made her way to the nearest telephone. The urgency in her stride was palpable, and her mind was focused on the task at hand. She entered a quiet and secluded hall, ensuring privacy for the call she was about to make.
The Marquis-Elector Phenex picked up the receiver and dialed a number, her fingers moving swiftly and decisively. As the call connected, she spoke in a tone that was both urgent and vague.
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"Thought I wouldn't call you no more, huh? Well, guess what? I request your presence in my gardens as quickly as possible."
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ I don't care about the I.R.A or what you're doing with them. I have my own problems in Ars Goetia. Don't forget, it's me who helped you a lot. ♪"
*unintelligible voice from the phone*
"♪ Castle Of Phenexia, Gardens. I will be waiting. ♪"
Without waiting for a further response, Phenex abruptly hung up the phone. She knew she had taken a significant risk, but she believed it was necessary to protect Octavia. She turned and began to walk briskly towards the gardens, ready to face her old friend.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Somewhere near The Ring Of Wrath and The Ring Of Pride start/The Castle-Town of Phenexia/The Garden.
Phenex's Garden, nestled within the Castle of Phenexia, was a sight to behold. Taking inspiration from the ancient Greek gardens, it was a harmonious blend of natural beauty and meticulous design. Lush greenery adorned the landscape, with vibrant flowers in full bloom, creating a kaleidoscope of colors. Delicate statues and stone pathways meandered through the garden, inviting visitors to explore its hidden corners. A tranquil fountain stood at the center, its gentle cascades providing a soothing melody that echoed through the air. It was a sanctuary of serenity and elegance, reflecting Phenex's refined taste and appreciation for the splendors of nature.
However, the calm ambiance of the garden did little to quell the unease that Phenex felt within her. She held the cup of tea in her hand nervously, her gaze fixed upon the reflection in the liquid's surface. Despite the passing years in Inferno, she found herself unchanged, her youthful appearance untouched by the ravages of time. It was a paradox that both amused and troubled her—a constant reminder of her celestial nature and the ties that drew her back to that afterlife time and time again...
She took a sip of tea, savoring its warmth as it flowed down her throat. The fragrant aroma enveloped her senses, momentarily distracting her from her ruminations. Yet the respite was fleeting. Phenex's thoughts turned to the imminent arrival of the representative she had summoned.
"Phenex Goetia?"
And there she was...
From the left of Phenex stood a tall woman with pale skin, long blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and silvery eyes. Some would mistake her for Lilith, Lucifer's own queen, but that's how it is.
"♪ Hello again, Agent Genesis. ♪" Phenex returned. She couldn't help but find irony in the situation. Here she was, a fallen angel of Hell, seeking assistance from the very realm she had once turned her back on. It seemed that no matter how far she ventured, the threads of her past always found a way to pull her back there. "Did you change your hair recently?"
"No, still old me." The agent replied, tired in her tone, as she joined the table.
A soft chuckle escaped Phenex's lips as she set the tea cup down, the reflection in its surface mirroring her wistful smile. She had come to accept that her path would forever be intertwined with both Heaven and Hell.
"♪ I'm surprised you're alone...nowadays Inferno is taking it very seriously to catch you all. ♪ "
"Incorrect, Marquis-Elector. I didn't come alone." The agent grinned at her before bringing her finger to her earpiece. "You may stay down, Operative. I got this."
"Complying. Overwatch confirms the sector is clear. Collaboration is authorized." The agent's earpiece buzzes in with weird mumbo-jumbo lexicon.
"♪ Top brass up there are once again in their usual behavior? ♪" Phenex remarked, pouring more tea into the cup and offering it to her.
The Blonde woman grabbed it and took a sip before speaking, making a nod of gratitude. "You can't be too careful. We have so many plates on us: babysitting I.R.A in Limbo, monitoring Immediate Professional Murdereres' activity on Earth and the Hazbin Hotel itself...which I prefer that you don't waste our time with your problems, Phenex."
"♪ So cold of you to say that...Eve. ♪" Phenex grinned.
"We still didn't forget you demanding to chase ghosts in Limbo, Marquise." Agent's eyes already showed suspicion, distrustful of Phenex's intentions.
"♪ And thanks to me, Ars Bael is dead at your hands, and now Lucifer's own puppet will soon be in control of Ars Goetia. ♪" Phenex pointed it out.
"The Eye of Providence, The Knight-Order of Exorcism and Harrowing, and The Heavenly Covenant itself are not interested in Ars Goetian's affairs, Marquise-Elector Phenex." Agent defended herself by using that bureaucratic speech.
Phenex couldn't help but chuckle at Agent Genesis' response. How typical for Heaven to do that.
"♪ Ah, bureaucracy, ♪ " Phenex said with a hint of amusement in her voice. "♪ The red tape and political maneuvering can be quite the maze to navigate, can't it? But rest assured, Agent Genesis, my intentions align with the greater good. We both seek to protect the delicate balance between our worlds, after all. ♪"
"Your intentions have always been under question, Marquise. It's hard to trust someone who walks the line between Heaven and Hell." Agent Genesis raised an eyebrow, her gaze piercing through Phenex's façade.
"♪ You don't help your own case, my dear first woman. Many times I've seen Heaven play double-standards: first, poor Collin, Keenie, and Cletus got the end of the stick. You ignored Charlie's existence and instead worked in the shadows, and now you're funding a rebellion in Limbo to cause havoc. But guess what, Eve? I'm also a double-standard Goetia, and unlike you, I accept it. ♪"
Agent Genesis studied Phenex for a moment, her eyes searching for any signs of deception. Finally, she let out a deep sigh, already having had enough of Ars Goetia's schemes.
"Alright, who needs to be killed?" The agent muttered apathetically—not so Christian of her.
"♪ Glad you asked. ♪" Phenex summoned a photo and laid it on the table. The First Woman grabbed that to see who it depicted. It gave her even more questions.
"Okay, I understand with Prince-Elector Sitri and Ars Bael himself, but Gaap?" Eve again noted her tone, baffled. "What did a barely 20-year-old boy do to you?"
"♪ You and I both know that mommy must defend her child at all cost. ♪" Phenex's expression turned serious. "♪ And that little piece of shit will betray my great-niece the moment it arrives for him to strike! Mark my words, Eve. Every Goetia in House Paimon is a wretched opportunist. ♪"
"You mean Octavia Goetia?" Eve typed on her wrist computer device, and a holographic projection appeared and showed the information regarding Octavia's bio.
"Oh, yes. Remember when you gave me the audio recorder? It did wonders, and now, thanks to that, she replaced her father as the newest 36th Spirit. Gaap did too."
"Wonderful..." Agent Genesis sighed, her frustration evident as she scrolled down her holographic projection. "It's always a power struggle with them, isn't it? But if Gaap is a threat to Octavia as you claim it, why should Heaven be concerned at all?"
"♪ Because Octavia is also very open-minded and could be a...potential ally to Heaven. Plus, it's very important for me that Gaap will be dead as soon as possible as Octavia will come back from Limbo alive and well. ♪"
"Limbo?" Eve repeated in disbelief, closing off the projection
"♪ Surprised Heaven doesn't know. Octavia and Gaap are joining our dearest heir of Hell, Charlie, on her journey to stop the rebellion...that you caused, hmm yes. ♪"
"Son of a bitch...You HAVE to be kidding me, uggh!" Eve cursed, not caring for purity. All the plans that Providence has created will go in the trash now that Charlie won't be in her hotel....
"See, Eve? I can be a team player too." Phenex hinted at already having an advantage.
The First Woman remained silent at first, with crossed arms as she thought to herself. After a moment for herself, Agent Genesis finally uncrossed her arms and looked at Phenex with a resigned expression. "Tell me the details: when is Gaap exactly vulnerable for us to strike?"
"♪ I believe the best-case scenario is their train travel. Octavia told me that they will travel from Acheron City, Pride Ring, to Little Limbo through the "Infernal Express", at the Central Station on 25 Heartfire at 21:00 PM. ♪"
"Make's sense...it's their main supply run." Eve muttered, seeing already why Inferno does that. "That means they will be passing trough the desolated wasteland. So I guess we could send an operative during the train travel and perform assassination."
"♪ Will I.R.A know? ♪"
"They will have to, as it can be seen as the typical raid on train...by rebels and not some third party. I'm still concerned rather on presence of Charlie..." Eve muttered, still not believing that Princess was getting herself involved...and why is a good question.
"♪ Maybe just hit and run then? ♪" Phenex offered.
"It will do in the end. But planning needs to be made." Eve nodded, best it that way. "Alright, I will notify Providence and -"
"Wait, hold on." Phenex stopped, as there was one important thing. "Since Octavia will be on that train, I want your promise that she won't be hurt."
"♪ I can't promise. You know who you are dealing with, Marquise Phenex. We take no responsibility for collateral damage that ensues when operatives work. ♪"
"♪ And you still wonder why everyone has a problem with Heaven's behavior." Phenex shook her head, releasing a breath. "Can I at least know the operative's name? ♪"
"Unknown, that will be decided before- "
"♪ Then, allow me to decide: since I worked with Exorcists before, I want him to be the one. ♪"
...
"Okay..." Agent Genesis raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued by Phenex's request. "Why specifically him ?"
"♪ Because he's someone I can trust to be clean and simple with assassination. He has the skills and the experience, and it's very easy to control him. Plus, he is not demonphobic, so it works out. ♪"
Agent Genesis considered Phenex's words for a moment, weighing the risks and benefits. She had learned to trust the Marquis to some extent. If Phenex believed in that Exorcist, there must be a good reason.
"In that case, will you provide me with all the details and any possibilities in order to make this mission successful? We will try to minimize the collateral damage in that case."
"♪ Of course...it's not like I never collaborated with Heaven or with you before. ♪"
Agent Genesis silently nodded, acknowledging the sentiment. And so, with no time to waste, Agent Genesis reached for her earpiece and typed a command to establish a secure connection.
"Overwatch, request a direct communication with the long-distant range, Code: X-1-7-2"
"Priority identification check in progress....confirmed. Specify the Unit."
"Knight-Lieutenant Exorcist RS-XIX-14 Codename "Deadeye"
Lower Heaven/The Empyrean City/Somewhere in The Streets/The Cemetery of Fallen Exorcists.
The military cemetery of the Exorcists in Heaven stood as a solemn tribute to the brave souls who had dedicated their lives to the eternal struggle against the forces of darkness. It was a place of profound beauty, with meticulously manicured lawns, rows upon rows of gravestones standing as sentinels, and a gentle breeze that whispered through the towering trees.
Amidst this serene setting, a figure walked around, dressed in the attire of a typical cowboy from the 1910s. His weathered boots crunched on the gravel path as he made his way through the graves. He carried a bouquet of vibrant and very beautiful flowers. With each step, his gaze moved from one memorial to another, honoring his brothers in Exorcism.
He finally reached the towering memorial wall, adorned with plaques bearing the names of fallen Exorcists....and the quote.
"The Teutonic Knights"
"Through the Gates of Hell, I sent you into the heart of darkness to deal a massive blow...and sacrificed your souls for it. Sleep peacefully, my warriors. For you are heroes of Heaven and blessed to be in our Lord's and Lady's presence. " - Aclima
Even now, it hurts.
The whole Heaven's stunt on Pandemonium and then on Pride Ring felt nothing but pain and sorrow. So many brothers and sisters were lost, so many friends were gone, and so many loved ones were torn apart—all for what? To stop the Diabolical States in their political games between the Seven Deadly Sins?
...
Such is the life of this Long War.
With utmost care, he laid the flowers at the base of the wall, a humble offering to honor those who had made the ultimate sacrifice. For a moment, he stood in silent contemplation, his head bowed in reverence. No words are needed here. It's hard to say exactly what to say—that he survived and they didn't—it's never unfair.
The young man made his way to the nearest bench, exhaustion etched on his face. His hand brushed against the grip of a revolver holstered at his side, causing it to slip from its resting place. The gun tumbled, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The man's eyes widened in a mix of surprise and awkwardness as he quickly reached down to retrieve it.
"Verdammt..." He cursed; his holster is getting old already. For a brief moment, he stared at the weapon. Memories from a bygone era flooded his mind, reminding him of the battles fought and the lives lost. This thing killed so many demons in the course of its owner's duty.
With a heavy sigh, he decided to place the revolver on the bench beside him, its presence a reminder of the burdens he carried. The man allowed himself a moment of respite. He leaned forward, his gaze drifting across the cemetery, taking in the names and memories etched into the stones—some of them he still remembered being alive and even shaking their hands as they graduated.
*Pending Call*
"Wunderbar...just what I need." The young man sighed, rubbing his face. He nevertheless accepted the call on his earpiece. "Knight-Lieutenant, reporting in."
"Knight-Lieutenant, Agent Genesis reporting. We need you at E.O.P. How quick can you get there yourself?"
"ETA, one hour from where I am currently, Mother Eve." The Veteran Exorcist responded but still preferred to hear more. "Is this the Order's official business?"
"Providence's, Knight-Lieutenant." Eve corrected him, fully serious. "There's been a major development in regards to Limbo's situation, and we need you to deal with another threat to balance."
The veteran Exorcist hummed, his brows furrowed at the mention of Providence, the clandestine organization overseeing the secret operations of Heaven onto Hell...or even Earth. Their involvement always signaled something of great importance.
"Let me guess, Moxxara, our Greatest Revolutionary of our time, wants someone dead?" He assumed, with cynical sarcasm in his voice.
"Phenex, actually."
"Ah, how wonderful...great, that's even better in my book." The Exorcist sighed, getting up from the bench and going up to the memorial wall. "And what does she want now? Go after Lucifer?! Because I swear to Mother Mary, that would be a walk in the park just like Pandemonium was!"
"Look, I understand your frustration." Eve expressed, her tone empathetic yet firm. "But this isn't about going on another suicide mission. Every target you kill is a blatant threat to Heaven's security and stability against Inferno's aggression. Having collaborators like Phenex helps us keep Hell in line. You yourself know what's at stake, Lieutenant."
"Yeah, and I don't like it." There was a voice of hesitation in him. If someone had asked him five years ago, he would have volunteered for Heaven's own betterment. But now, it's just pain, and as he glanced at the specific name on the memorial wall, it didn't help at all.
Knight-Lieutenant Aikaterine Begun: 1893 - 1911 AD (M. L), 1911- 2020 AD (S. L)
"We need you once more, Knight-Lieutenant Schaffer."
The German gunslinger clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed on the name, before just turning away. But at the same time...he can't just turn his back on Heaven...duty and honor come first for him.
He went back to the bench to grab his revolver and checked the cylinder barrel to see if it was fully loaded. The Gunslinger's grip tightened around the revolver's cylinder as he slammed it back into place with a resounding click.
"In that case, Exorcist Knight-Lieutenant Rönne Schaffer reports for duty, mam. See you at E.O.P headquarters."
He flipped his revolver once and back into his holster; his spurs jingled with a rhythm as he strode away from the solemn grounds, leaving it behind. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his steely gaze, revealing a resolve on his face...as often it's said in The Order Of Harrowing...
"Once More Unto the Breach"
Author: If you're curious, this is more or less how Olivia looks like in this fic.
https://i.pinimg.com/736x/96/d6/7e/96d67e0f5931a05c9a0b19e50a946da6.jpg
Notes:
Annnnd look who is back...talk about reunion of characters, huh?
Chapter 31: I know you, Mr. Alastor
Summary:
“It is one thing to lose people you love. It is another to lose yourself. That is a greater loss.” ― Donna Goddard, Waldmeer
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
S̸͚̗̪̋͋ͅe̴̪̾̑͋̀p̶̩͉̫̔͑̈́͝t̵̟͒e̴̹̭̼̎̑͗ͅm̸͈͚̳͂b̷͈͓̤͛̓́͜e̵̯͐ŗ̷͇̠̟̽ ̶̼̼̗̍̔ͅ6̴̨̳̆̂̋6̸̦͒͗̆͋ͅ6̴̜̠͔͊̇͛͜,̷̣͉̀̃͘ ̶͓̣͚͖̄̇̿6̶̜̞̬͔͊͒̃̃6̵̬̌̚͝6̴̯̫͎̖̾̏,̶̯̮̘̓̓̏̄͜ ̸̳͇̔̑A̴͈͛̔D̸̢͎͓̜̔͋ ̸̧͗̓̃̉(̸̦̿̑Ḣ̵̪̃̀ḛ̴͚̭͒͋̈́̚ȧ̴̬̪̮͊̊͜v̵̛̝͖̪̎̑̓e̷̞̮̙̾n̸̡̦̗̆͐ ̶̦̬̏̒́̋s̶͓̱̞̝̉́̐͗ḧ̷̨̰̩̦́͑a̶͖̒̆͛͑l̴͕̗͋̓͗̕ͅl̵̜̯̹͕̊͐ ̴͉́̇̄b̷̪̆̍̅͝ę̷̯̭̈́͛̀̈ ̵̟͆ư̶̬̻̒͊̚n̷̺̠̝͕͂ḓ̶̭͚̞̏̔͌ő̶̱̍̀n̶̻͖̠͝e̸̛̤̩̞̜̽͑͒)̷̥͖̻̇̕,̴̭̬̠̽͜ ̷̯̲̞̳̎͛͆6̷̡͇͚̘̌:̵̬͚̲̋6̵̰͇͑͊̾6̸̢̢̻͈͋́ ̴͓̪͐͂̏A̴̼̝̳̎̂̕̕M̷̨̼͖͑̆̾ͅ.̸̧̫̬̼̒͐
B̷̖̻̏̒͑̂́e̶̡̤̞̱̫̣͈̯̦̊̍̌͘l̶̤͓̳̬̼͘ĩ̶͕̖̟͙̮̥̞͑̏͂̈́͝e̸̛̜͇̽̄͛͆̕͠v̵̛͙̥̪̳̓̿͊̓͗ȇ̴̙̯͖̖͆̿̊͆̽͝ ̵̥͇̞͒͂̓ì̵̲̞̬̥̲̦͚̽̿͝͝n̷͔̟͎̞̍͐̐͆̾̌̈́ͅ ̵̬̯͎͈̫͐͌o̷̳͎̒̈̑̃ñ̷͚ẹ̸̛̺̀͜͠ ̴̛̭͍̤̦́̂̒͜͠G̸̛̜͉̜̹̱̥͙͓̤͌̐̋̃͋͠ỏ̶̦͙̠̗̳̊́̓͆͐͒̂d̴̬͓̙͓̹͛͜ ̸̪̭̱͙̦̺̖̤̓͐̾͠d̴͔̯͚̥͙̯͖̠̣̍̾͆͋͆̊͝ö̵̟́ ̵̯̦̥̻̰̭̖̺̜́̌̈͐͛̓͝w̶̱̺̗̹̹̄̆̔ė̴̛͓̽̃́̒̀̊ ̴̧̝͇̥̭͔͛͌̑͘͝D̸̫̙̿̀͛͒̏͋̓͘ē̸̡̬̰͖͈̍͋̑̓̽͊v̸͇̝̣̩͓̌̉̃i̵̮̲̞͇̗̊͐̉̃l̴͍̺̻̺̺̭̉ ̵̛̮̙̼̱̣̙̥͑̂͊̆̚a̴͐́͊̉̎̕͜l̶̨̩̬̞͍͖̗͙͕̈́̃͑̔͝m̸̜̲͇͉̿͘ȉ̷̡̯̬̞̺͉͈̭͌̈̀͐̒̇g̵̤̲̜͙̙̺̳͔̤͑͋h̵̗̀̊̅͂͒̔͒̀̓͜ṯ̵̈̍̋̕͠y̸̢̦̬̱̓̇͗̒́,̷͈͈̳͙̮̪͙̒̅̽̏̑̐ ̵̨̨̡̟͖̥̝̌T̸̲͆̅̎̄͝ḩ̷̱̭͍̼̰͍̗͓͋̔̽̕̕ȇ̷͇͔͖̖̝̓̋ ̸̡̩̙̳̼̏͘ù̵̬̳̙̼̜͖ͅn̸̲͓̭̐c̵̦̹̯͙͑̈́̍͘͠r̷̞͙͌̏̉͋͆̃͗͘͜ë̴̛̳̠̰̥̝́͐̃͘a̶̺̎t̷̥̗͇̱͉͖̀̉͗̀o̶̳̓̎͒̓͊r̴̭̬͔̪̗͓̠͎̝̒͋͐̆̊͑̾ ̷̥̹̺͂̆̀̇̋͐͐̕ͅǫ̶̧̰̥̟̜̝̲͋͋̏̏̊͘̕f̴̢̮̠̖̀͆̈́́̿̌͘͘ ̷̗̜̤̖͔̈́͐́̋̓̋͗͜ͅḩ̵̹͍̰̈́ȅ̶͙͎́́̈̂̚͝͝ấ̶͇̜̯͍͖̙̘̬̦̿͊͗̓̀͝v̶̺́́̒̈̚ẽ̵̮͕̭͚̥̭͐͂̌̏̄̍͜͠n̸̨̮̬̭̍̓̍̀͐͆̕̕ ̷̢̣͖͇͙̂͆͘̚à̷̼̫̞̉̌̉̆͝n̵͉͎̜͇̥̂̊̀d̷̖͑͒̉̀͐ ̷̙̰͇̟͈͓̣̜͗̉͊̕ͅs̸̡̉ŏ̸͙̱̳̦͓̲̔í̴̘̝̐̋̊͆͘l̴̬͇͎̬̻͠.̴̨̡̛̼̥͚̫́͋ ̸̡̦̻̗̗̝̿̃́̚͜A̸̢͙̖̼͒̔̀̊͆̅͠n̷̖͂͑́̈́͝d̴͖͉̣͚̫͉͙̮͎̕͝ ̴̦̟̓̀͛̑t̴͈̮͓͙̠͑͐̔̍̈́̈̃h̸̥̯̙̱͍͙̪͌e̸͉͛̀̿̋͐̉͛͠͠ ̶̟͕̪̖̤̮͎͎͈̑i̸̯̚n̵͓͍̖͚͈̙͂́̂̽v̴̧̱̭́̓̔͐̀͗͆͘̕i̴̘͈͉̺̤͓͑̈́̒̏͛́̚s̴͍̩̖̮̲̱̗͉̀̍͑̉̔̔̄̒̚i̶̡̯̋b̵̧̯̓̐̃̊̊̒̂͊l̴̗̫̩̹̦̟͈̉̎̄ȇ̶̡͓̪̙̠̅͆͜ ̶̢͙̮̩̮̹̮͇̏̄́̔͆̆̇͆͝á̸͎̯n̷͇̠̘̈́̅̉͐͂̃d̸̼̗̗̖̟̳̮͆͑̀͑̃̊̀̒̓ ̵̦͂̈́̏͝t̴̬͖͓̻̮̀h̸̡̨̞̞̝̬͕͈͙̆̃̔̀̏̕ẹ̴̟̏ ̶̞̮́̃̂̈́̇̕v̸̨̛̰̖͖̠͈̮̱̣̔̋̒̓i̸̡͍̣̫̭̻̿̊͒s̴̤̮̦̫̠̥̹̥̪̐̾͐͗i̸̧̛̛̤̍͆̊́̈́͘b̸̮̿̀̆̀̾͘l̶̩͚̳̺̮̺̭̰͂͆̂̂́͒ḙ̷͉̏̆̌͋͊̐͐̔̑ ̴̩͑Ḁ̶͓̙̭̓͆̂͒͠n̷̜̟̝͔̮̥̤̄̽̽̾̈́̆̃d̷̨̠̦͕̳̻̝͋̽ ̶̘͉̺͍̜̞̪̻͕̍͊̂͒̾̀̕̕͝į̵̢̞̯̩̊͑̓̉̔̆͒͝n̸͇̱͈̩̂͆͋͒͊̆ ̸̛̜͎̱̗͉̠͛͌͆͋̿̓͝h̷̨̢̛͉̫͕̤̘̻̒̎̐͑̇̕͜͝ĩ̴̹̭̳̗͂͆̐̓s̴͓̞̝͂̓͗͒ ̷̜͚͎̗̰̯̈̓̀̏͝͠d̵̞̒̓̋̀̈͘a̴̟̫̿̀͆̉̈̕û̷̞̤̞͚̌g̴̨̖̼̮͎̒̊̋̊͛̈́h̵̙̟̉̐̕ṱ̵̘̜͇͇̎̎͊̕͠e̵̤̗͕̲̹̰̭͌͛̇̒r̴̙̠͖̮̼̒͗̔̏͛̋́ ̵͖̖̮̐ḃ̸͖͓̺͉̍͛͂̅̊̂è̷̥̱̰̠̠̖̳̞̥̐̅̉g̵͈̔̋̎̍o̵̧̹̝͕̩̮̥̮̺̎̄̒͘t̴͇͔̬̄̀́̀̊̕͠ṱ̸̡̖͉̗̜̽͊̄̔̍̕ḝ̸̢̫̩̱̞̟͚̖͒̏̃̾͝͝n̵̗͖̓̊́ ̴͍̒̎̉̓̌̇o̴̹͚͎̱̊ͅf̷̧̛̛̿͌͆ ̸̟̍͜͜f̶̡̛̤̙͉̘̺̋̅̏̌̍̀ͅa̷̱̹̘̻̹͍̣͓̅̈̍ẗ̷̞̣̗̜̹̭́͗̏̕͘h̵̹̾̀̃̎̓͝͝ͅę̴̛͍͓̬̦̦͌̾͛̇͒͊̔͠r̴̮͈̬̓̓͒̾̈́̌̔͘ ̷̖̗̱͉̝̫̾̑̑̓̕ͅḂ̸̘͙̙̮̟̳̣̓̂̀̇͋̂̓̚͜y̴̟̱̅̑͒̂͘͠ ̸̡̞̥͚̘̳̘̈́͆̐͜w̷̧̧͖̬̲̭͓̹̍̉ḧ̴̫̙͔͇̩͆̒̆͜ͅȏ̸̱͈̰͎̪̒̐̅̒̎͠͝m̸̫̖͈̓̽̒͘ ̸̢͉͕͈̈́̒a̵̧̤̬̮̳͓͓͐̇̋l̵͙̩͎̜͔̜̹̄͜ĺ̸̡̛̜͎̼̓̍͋̐͘ ̶̨͇̲̯̰̜͙͋̔̆̇͋̒ţ̸͈̖͍̐̀̊̚h̵̛̛̝͚̠̰̃̎̇́̕ḯ̵͙͎͎̰̯͓̲̯̞̑̀̔̕͠n̶̡̨̛̛̥͙͙̯͖̬̄̀́͝͠g̵͇̣̜̀͆s̶̹̙̳͆̈́͑̇̂̍ ̷̡̛̝̤̌͛͐͋̏͊ẉ̶̩̔̽̏́̓͘͝i̸̖̘̭̣͊̇̉̽̀̒̚͜͝l̵͇̂̌̆͐̔͂͂̔͠l̴͍̀̃̚ ̶̨̭̠̱̅̚b̸̦͖̗͚̓͛͋͆̏̏͛͘ȅ̷̜͎̰̱̲̮̆̈́̓̄̆̚ͅ ̵̧̧̘̱̔̆̕ù̸̜̹̬͗͆͌́n̸̰͈͇̩̼̳̰̊͛͛͊͆́̇͠m̵̡͕̰̠̟̻͖̼̖̒̋̄̐̔͛͑̕å̵̱͔̫̹̮̈̓̊͛d̷̢̿̔͝ę̷͉̣͎̺̒͌̑́ͅ
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
In the heart of a desolate forest, shrouded in an eerie fog, stood a haunting scene of twisted and gnarled trees. Their skeletal branches reached out like bony fingers, casting long, distorted shadows that danced in the dim light. The air was heavy with an oppressive silence, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the hushed whispers that seemed to float on the breeze.
Charlie found herself in a fog-shrouded forest, where the air hung heavy with an eerie stillness. The twisted, gnarled branches of dead trees reached out like skeletal fingers, casting long shadows on the ground. The atmosphere was suffused with an unsettling sense of foreboding, as if something ominous lurked just beyond the veil of mist.
"Hello...anyone!?" Charlie wandered through the mist-laden forest, her footsteps soft but uncertain in their direction. The atmosphere was thick with a sense of foreboding, as if the very fabric of this dream world held secrets that begged to be unraveled.
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
Charlie ventured deeper into the haunting woods, and the voices still echoed through the stillness. They were elusive, whispers carried by the wind, repeating a single word with a ghostly insistence.
The young demon's brow furrowed, her eyes scanning the foggy surroundings for the source of the haunting voices. Each step she took brought her deeper into the clutches of her own fears. The trees seemed to twist and contort, their boughs reaching out to grab her, as if trying to hold her captive within this waking nightmare.
Yet, despite the growing unease, Charlie pressed on. She ventured further, the voices growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment. The voices seemed to come from all directions, surrounding her in an ethereal chorus. Each whisper was laden with an urgency, fear, and an unspoken mystery. It was as if the forest itself was trying to convey a message, but the meaning eluded her grasp.
Unknown Voices: "You can't save them all..."
The dream world warped and shifted, blurring the boundaries between reality and imagination. Strange symbols and sigils appeared on the trunks of the dead trees, their glowing glyphs pulsating with an otherworldly energy.
Shadows danced in the corners of her perception, taking on sinister shapes that seemed to dart away whenever she turned her gaze towards them. The sounds of rustling leaves and distant footsteps echoed in her ears, amplifying the tension that coiled within her.
*Childish laughter*
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the mist, their silhouette hazy and indistinct. It was a fleeting glimpse, barely visible through the swirling fog. Charlie tried to reach for it, but the silhouette just ran away.
"Wait, stop!" Charlie's voice echoed through the dreamlike forest, pleading for the figure to halt, but her words dissipated into the thick mist. Frantically, she chased after the elusive silhouette, her footsteps crunching on the dead leaves beneath her feet. As she ran, the fog grew denser, making it even harder to see.
Shadows twisted and writhed around her, forming grotesque shapes that seemed to mock her pursuit. The whispers of the forest grew louder, a cacophony of unintelligible voices that heightened her sense of urgency. It won't be until Charlie sees a group of silhouettes. She reached for it, only to see...
"Octavia?" Charlie whispered, completely confused. Octavia was on her knees, weeping in agony and sorrow. The bodies of Stolas, Stella, Phenex, a Snowy Owl Goetia, and a Crow Demon in a rancher outfit, whom Charlie had never seen before, all surrounded her.
"W-what happened here, Via? Who did- " Charlie asked as she approached Octavia, her voice trembling with sorrow and disbelief. But as soon as she laid her hand on Octavia's shoulder, the young Marquise turned around...she was nothing but a skeleton bird with no flesh whatsoever.
"VIA!" Charlie screamed in horror, blocking her mouth as she took a few steps away.
But two storm flashes, and Octavia...along with so many Goetia nobles, was now all hung lifelessly from the twisted branches; their charred remains show a haunting display of violence and destruction. More and more she hears the clashes of swords and screams of death, with the Ars Goetia's main symbol burning in fire. Charlie instead tried to run, but the voices still haunted her.
Phenex's voice: "♪ I had no choice, Via! IT WILL ALWAYS BE BETTER IF HEAVEN WAS IN CHARGE! ♪"
Unknown Male Voice: "I may not be a demon, but even you and I have our own deepest fears, Tavi...some are more difficult to face than the others."
Stolas’ voice: "I tried...I tried, Via. In the end...I did."
Stella's voice: "I won't sit here while Ars Goetia is getting destroyed by traitors, Octavia! Like you, I swore to protect our domain from the invaders!"
Astaroth's voice: "DEATH TO THE TRAITORS! KILL THEM ALL; THE DEVIL WILL RECOGNIZE HIS OWN!"
"Shut up...just shut up, already!" Charlie screamed, eyes closed, as she ran away.
Charlie's desperate footsteps echoed through the nightmarish forest as she tried to escape the haunting voices that tormented her. The fog clung to her, suffocating and disorienting her. Shadows contorted and twisted around her, mocking her futile attempts to flee.
In the midst of the chaos, a new scene unfolded before her. Two short imps locked in a tight embrace with their faces filled with anguish and betrayal. The bond between them seemed unbreakable, a symbol of trust and camaraderie.
But their moment was abruptly shattered by the appearance of a taller imp, his crimson skin and striking features marking him as a figure of authority. With fury and hatred in his eyes, the taller imp aimed his flintlock pistol at the freckled imp, unleashing a fatal shot. Before Charlie could fully comprehend what had happened, the scene shifted, denying her a clear view of the freckled imp's fate. Just as before, the scene shifted into an eerie one, where a holographic advertisement of "I.M.P.-Militech Corporation" is shown above Charlie, like foretelling the grim future.
Unknown Imp voice: "I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE THIS, MOX! I TRUSTED YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"
Unknown high-pitched Imp voice: "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING WE STAND FOR! WHERE IS THAT FAMILY YOU TOLD US, BLITZØ?!"
Unknown Imp voice: "I HOPE YOU, YOUR STUPID BITCH OF A WIFE AND YOUR CHILD WILL DIE IN AGONY!"
Unknown very young Imp voice. "What was Uncle Blitzø like, dad?"
Unknown high-pitched Imp voice: "Like a brother in some many ways, Mixxie...even now, I always think about him."
*Childish laughter*
"Again that voice..." Charlie stopped as she heard...that laugh. It felt familiar...like a distinct part of her. Turning to the left. Once more, she saw the silhouette before it began to run away from Charlie.
"Stop...just please stop!" Charlie couldn't let the elusive figure escape again. She refused to be trapped in this nightmarish realm without finding the answers she sought. With her eyes wide open, she chased after the silhouette that seemed to hold a key to her own identity.
Serpent's Voice: "You can't imagine how much we all suffer...and all for what? So that the Seven Deadly Sins can be celebrities and role models for all of us...is this what we really want for Hell's future, my dear Charlie?"
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
Angel Dust's Voice: "Please...*sob* no more...I just want to see my twin sister once again...why are you angels so by the rule...it's not my fault I barely went to Catholic church!"
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
Husk's Voice: "A soldier's deepest fear is never to come back home, kiddo...nobody is ready to march for war."
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
Vaggie's Voice: "I won't be going there...there is no such thing as paradise without you, Charlie."
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
Alastor's Voice: "I remember those days...when I walked in the park with my mom...birds chirped and sun was on horizon...and now...I stare at my own corpse in the coffin while I'm slowly fading away...and there will be no one to mourn me when I die once more. But I don't regret it...you're the only friend I've made in decades, my dearest Charlie...thank you for believing in me."
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
Seviathan's Voice: "I love you, you know...I wished there was something more between us...but as everything collapses all around us...I'm scared, Charlie."
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
Unknown Female Angelic Voice: "Don't let your hatred consume you, Charlie. I know you’re angry at my brother...even I was angry when he betrayed us...but hatred only leads to suffering...and regret."
Unknown Voices: "Charlie..."
Lucifer's Voice: "You take too much from me, apple-pie...and that's what scares me the most."
As the voices subsided, a new realization dawned on her. The silhouette that had been teasing her, the figure she had been chasing, was finally shown who it was...and it was none other than her younger self, the child Charlie she once was. Young Charlie clutched her doll tightly; fear was etched across her face as she stared at the distorted surroundings all around her.
Charlie reached out to help her younger self. However, before Present Charlie could make a move, Young Charlie suddenly turned and rushed towards another figure that emerged from the darkness. It was Charlie's own father, Lucifer, standing there with a neutral expression. Young Charlie threw herself into his arms, seeking solace and protection....and her dad would return the embrace, kneeling down.
Present Charlie froze in astonishment, her eyes locked on the unexpected scene unfolding before her. But Lucifer's own eyes would open; his gaze shifted towards Present-Day Charlie, as if seeing right through her existence.
And then Young Charlie, still enigmatic, turned her gaze towards Present Charlie. A profound silence enveloped the surreal scene as Lucifer and Young Charlie smiled at Present Charlie...and then the ground on which they stood...the fire, emerged, surrounding them quickly...and setting them on fire. There were no screams or words, only a haunting smile...as they burned alive in front of Present Charlie.
"N-no..." Charlie whispered in horror, tears forming.
The Devil's/Charlie [Dark]'s Voice: "How much are you willing - "
On the last word, Charlie, entirely different from her normal self , appeared in an instant. Before Charlie could react, her darker self lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders.
⛧ !!! TO SACRIFICE !!!⛧
Charlie's eyes snapped open, her body drenched in sweat. She gasped for air, her chest heaving with each breath as she struggled to regain her composure. The room was cloaked in darkness, with the only source of light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window.
Vaggie stirred beside her, her eyes blinking open, instantly alert. She reached out instinctively for her spear, ready to defend against any threat that may have disturbed their peace. But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized there was no immediate danger, only Charlie in a state of distress.
"Charlie, what's wrong?" Vaggie's voice was laced with concern, cutting through the lingering echoes of the nightmare.
Charlie, still shaken from the intensity of her dream, took a moment to collect herself. Her trembling hand reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for remnants of the nightmarish realm she had just escaped.
"It... it was a nightmare again, Vaggie," Charlie managed to say, her voice quivering. "I felt like...I was being consumed, like I was losing myself."
Vaggie's gaze softened when she heard that, seeing Charlie's vulnerability. With a gentle touch, she reached out and placed her hand on Charlie's shoulder, offering support and reassurance. The warmth of Vaggie's hand against her shoulder helped anchor her in the reality of their shared space.
"Looks like our passion time didn't help you at all..." Vaggie joked slightly, even if her concern deepened. Her thumb traced gentle circles on Charlie's shoulder. "I just thought... maybe our intimacy would provide some comfort to you."
"I... I don't think it's because of that, Vaggie." Charlie replied softly, still uncertain."I thank you for that...but the nightmare felt like it was tapping into my fears and insecurities."
"Of course, it does...You're still stressed because you worry for all of us. But you're not alone in this, Charlie."
"It feels so overwhelming...you know." Charlie took a steadying breath, drawing strength from Vaggie's words and touch. She gazed into Vaggie's eyes, finding solace. "And now I'm scared...scared of losing myself."
"We've already been through this, and still, it doesn't change my mind." Vaggie's grip on Charlie's shoulder tightened slightly, and her expression filled with conviction. "Charlie, you're a light that shines brighter than any darkness in Hell. You've already made a difference in so many lives, including mine. Don't let the nightmares diminish your belief in yourself."
Vaggie then gently crawled closer and embraced Charlie's back, kissing her neck before muttering in a sweet voice. "That's aside. How are you feeling? I won't lie...it's been a long time since you and I did that...I kind of rusted out with my tongue."
"I'm... I'm feeling better now, Vaggie," Charlie replied softly. She leaned into Vaggie's embrace, feeling the warmth of their bodies pressed against each other. "We've both been busy with the hotel...it was a nice little distraction."
"And back to chasing rainbows." Vaggie nodded, her grip on Charlie's shoulder loosening slightly as she listened attentively. "You're sure about going to Limbo?"
"The deal is a deal, Vags. It's best to honor it before I can put all my attention on the Hotel." Charlie's eyes softened as she looked at Vaggie, gratitude shining through. "But I understand your concerns, Vaggie."
Vaggie sighed, her grip on Charlie's shoulder relaxing completely. "I just worry about you, Charlie. Limbo is a dangerous place. But if you're set on going, then who's going to stop you? I'll be by your side, as always."
"I wished you would all go."
"So do I, but it seems someone must run the hotel while you're away." Vaggie smirked grimly. "You have my word that everything will be alright once you come back...I won't let Smiley himself get the better of us."
"I know..." Charlie gave a kiss on Vaggie's forehead as she leaned away from the Moth's embrace. She glanced around the room and spotted her clothing on the floor. She would get up, pick them up, and start to get dressed. "There's something else I want to ask you. Remember when you mentioned something about Heaven's letter?"
"Yeah, I remember..." Vaggie slowly nodded, slightly tensing upon Charlie's mention of that. "It’s just...the more I reread that letter, the more I felt it was just a pile of bullshit."
"What makes you say that, Vaggie?" Charlie looked at Vaggie with curiosity, her brows furrowing slightly.
Vaggie hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering away before meeting Charlie's eyes again. "It's... It's hard to explain, Charlie. It's just a feeling I have. There's something off about the way the letter was written, the language used, the tone... It doesn't sit right with me. When someone says "Heaven," I think of regality and all of that otherworldly stuff..."
"But how are you certain, Vaggie?" Charlie tilted her head, her concern evident.
Vaggie's hesitation lingered for a moment longer before she sighed. "It's not something concrete, Charlie. It's more of a belief, a gut feeling. I can't explain it any better than that. I just...maybe I'm being hopeful that there is a chance that Heaven at least might listen to us."
"Yeah...we all hold onto that hope." Charlie bitterly agreed....at this point it's up to Heaven, really. Charlie finished getting dressed and turned to Vaggie. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Vaggie. Even if it's just a feeling, I appreciate your honesty."
"Yeah...thanks." Vaggie nodded, but there was still an awkward look on the Moth Demon's face. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Charlie. Limbo is unpredictable...and I don't know what awaits you there."
"I know you worry, Vaggie, and I appreciate that." Charlie walked up to Vaggie, placing a hand on her cheek and looking deeply into her eyes. "But I will be fine..."
Vaggie leaned into Charlie's touch, her worries momentarily eased by the love and determination shining in Charlie's eyes.
"I know you will." Vaggie whispered softly, nuzzling her cheek against Charlie's hand. "Just promise me that you'll be careful."
"I promise, Vaggie." Charlie smiled. She then glanced at the door, taking a deep breath. "We probably should announce to the rest that I will be leaving."
"Yeah, we should..." Vaggie slowly nodded. "You go and find Husk and Legs, at least. I will probably have to find Niffty somewhere...so I will meet you down on the first floor."
"Alright." Charlie nodded. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead.
With that, Charlie turned and made her way out of the room, heading toward the common area where she would gather everyone together. Vaggie watched her go before she herself rubbed her face in frustration.
1) "Debería haberle dicho la verdad... ugh, ¿por qué estás tan nerviosa por eso, Vaggie?" Vaggie cursed at herself. She knew she should have been more forthcoming with Charlie. Now, she was left grappling with the consequences of her silence.
...
Maybe after Charlie's Limbo trip...
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Pentagram City/The Hazbin Hotel (Happy Hotel)
On the first floor, Angel Dust leaned against the bar counter, lazily twirling a cigarette between his gloved fingers. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching it dissipates into the air above. Across from him, Husk sat on a bar stool, nursing a glass of whiskey, his own cigarette burning between his lips. Neither of them gave a crap about Vaggie's sign of no smoking.
"Ya know, Husker," Angel Dust began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I gotta say...the 1930s weren't bad after all."
Husk took a sip of his whiskey with a contemplative expression on his face. He blew out a puff of smoke before responding to Angel Dust's remark. "Yeah, right...losing your job because the stockbrokers were a bit wild that day."
"Well, I suppose not everyone had it easy during those times. But hey, it wasn't all doom and gloom. There were still moments of fun." Angel Dust leaned closer, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "Picture this. The illegal speakeasies where people could dance, drink, and forget about their troubles."
"And a couple of dead gangsters were found shot against the wall...hurray." Husk again didn't buy that nostalgia bullshit.
"Come on, Husker, you're focusing on the dark side of things." Angel Dust chuckled, undeterred by Husk's cynicism. "Yeah, sure, there were risks involved, but that's what made it exciting. It added a certain thrill to the whole experience."
Husk rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his whiskey. "Thrill, huh? I've had enough thrills in my post-life. Give me a quiet corner and a good drink any day."
"To each their own..." Angel Dust shrugged. "But you can't deny that there was a certain charm to those times, unlike today. The fashion, the style, the way people carried themselves... It was all so glamorous, ya know?"
"Glamorous, my ass," Husk grumbled, flicking the ashes from his cigarette into an ashtray. "You think the glitz and glamour made up for the struggles people went through? The poverty, the crime... It wasn't all champagne and fancy dresses that you imagined off...and don't get me started on the 1950s."
"What's wrong with the 1950s?" Isn't this like the best decade in American history?"
"Sure, if you're a straight white Christian Male of that time and not a communist."
"Damn..." Angel Dust's smile faded as he listened to Husk's words, realizing the validity of his perspective. "Way to ruin the mood of our chat."
"There was a mood?"
"Oh, yeah...not the ‘You are fucking my ass' mood, but still a decent, Husky." Angel Dust sighed to himself. He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, contemplating Husk's words. "Say...I heard you snoring the other day...which made me wonder: what part of the theater did you serve? Europe or Pacific?"
"Why do you care?"
"Curious...just had some cousins in Italy, extended family and shit. One died when the Allies landed on the Italian peninsula. The other got the end of the stick when "Duce" got overthrown."
"Such a war..." Husk sighed; he made a slow shake of his head before responding. "Fine then. It was Pacific, right into hell itself... the Battle of Peleliu included."
"Peleliu!?" Angel Dust's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected Husk to open up about his wartime experiences. "That was a brutal battle, from what I remember in the newspapers. Ya were boots on the ground?"
"No, a pilot of a Grumman F6F Hellcat...got dogtailed by Japanese zeroes and crashed my plane right in the middle of our lines of battle. I survived...but at a cost."
"What ya mean?"
"...Stop asking this annoying shit, spider." Husk grumbled; this time he showed that he did not like him pestering him with his past.
Angel Dust immediately sensed Husk's discomfort and regretted pushing the topic further. He knew that some memories were better left undisturbed, especially those tied to the horrors of war.
"Alright, alright, no need to get all touchy, Husker." Angel Dust's voice was softer now, showing genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to pry. Bet our Walter Elias Disney's own princess is already bothering ya with her shite every time."
"Yeah, she can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she treats us better than that radio fuck." Husk's expression softened slightly at Angel Dust's attempt to lighten the mood.
Just as Husk and Angel Dust were talking about Charlie, the sound of footsteps approached them. They turned their heads to see Charlie standing before them with a warm smile.
"Afternoon, guys. How-"
"A quick question, Cha-Cha." Angel interrupted her. "So tell me: are you top or bottom?"
"...Excuse me?"
"Yeah...the fuck you say, legs?" Husk also got equally confused.
"What? It's a question of the century." Angel Dust shrugged.
"Uh... I think that's a rather personal and inappropriate question, Angel." Charlie blinked, clearly taken aback by Angel Dust's unexpected question. She glanced between Husk and Angel Dust, trying to process what had just transpired.
"I agree." Husk, not one to hold back his words, chimed in with a grumble. "Can you not turn this into some kind of weird sexual interrogation, spider...like you usually do to me?"
"Ya're no fun, guys. I was just trying to lighten the mood, ya know?"
"It always involves you fucking your way to the top when you're trying to lighten the mood, you fuck."
"You know me better, husky." Angel Dust winked at him, causing Husk to grumble. He never persists.
"Okay, let's just leave that question behind and move on, shall we?" Charlie suggested. She decided to steer the conversation back a bit. "So how are you guys?"
"Well, aside from your sextoys managing to get a five-win streak in a row in Mammonpoly, I say we are fine." Angel Dust showed some grumbling after taking a puff of this cigarette.
"I'm glad to hear you're doing well in Mammonpoly, Angel," Charlie chuckled. She was used to Angel Dust's provocative remarks and knew that his intention was usually to lighten the mood, even if it sometimes missed the mark. "But I just want to make a little announcement regarding the future of the hotel."
"Which is?" Husk was bored as fuck.
"To be honest, Husk, there's a lot on our plate," Charlie began, her expression turning more serious. "If you don't mind, could you make some apple juice?"
Husk raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled by Charlie's request. The grumpy cat demon let out a sigh but begrudgingly stood up from his seat. As Husk made his way to the bar to fetch the apple juice, Angel Dust leaned closer to Charlie, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"So, Cha-Cha, what's with the sour mood? Did Vaggie give bad scissors to you?"
"Not that." Charlie had no strength for Angel Dust jokes. "It just....well I don't know if Vaggie told you, but I managed to solve our problem with the hotel's taxation."
"So, I heard...apparently some...gothchick now owns us?"
"No, she is more of an associate with us...and her name is Octavia, Angel."
Angel Dust's eyes widened with curiosity. "Octavia, huh? What's her deal?"
"She is Goetia..."
"The fuck is Goetia?"
"Hell's Elite, apparently." Husk commented, busy making apple juice for Charlie.
"Well, not exactly Hell's Elite." Charlie chuckled at Husk's comment but nodded that he is not wrong. "Goetia is a powerful group of demons with knowledge of magic mastery. Nearly all of them are birds."
"Birds, huh?" Angel murmured, bringing his finger to his chin before his eyes widened in shock. "OH, FUCK THAT! They probably have cloaca....fucking eww."
"Angie, they are avian humanoid demons. They have breasts and...you know." Charlie tried her best to explain the situation to Angel Dust, hoping to alleviate his concerns.
"Oh, really? In that case, are there any gay birds in Ars Goetia?"
"Well...yeah." Charlie didn't like where it was going.
"Can you give me their numbers?"
"Angie, no!" Charlie's face flushed with embarrassment as she realized where Angel Dust's line of questioning was heading. She glanced at Husk, who had returned with the apple juice and was now listening intently.
"Come on, Charlie, don't be a spoilsport!" Angel Dust purred, winking mischievously. "I'm just curious about the avian demon dating scene. Gotta know if there are any potential lovebirds among them."
"Ahh, I see...you just wanted it for the 'lovebird' pun, didn't you?" Husk tsked at him.
"You have to admit, it was a good one." Angel Dust grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender. "But anyway, so what's with that Octavia: The Gothchick Goetia?"
"Like I said, she is now associated with us, but we agreed that the hotel will remain the same. So yeah, we're back on track for the most part."
"For the most part?" Husk already knew there was a catch.
"Yeah...for the most part," Charlie repeated, taking a sip of the apple juice to gather her thoughts. "I'm unfortunately going to have to honor my part of the deal with Ars Goetia...hence, I will be away for a while."
Husk and Angel Dust glanced at each other, with Husk shrugging as if he had no clue.
"Hmm, away for a while?" Husk repeated himself, scratching his head. "Where are you heading, princess?"
Charlie sighed, placing her glass of apple juice on the table. "I'll be traveling to the Ring of Limbo for Devil knows how long..."
"The Ring of Limbo? Never heard of that..." Angel Dust commented as he tilted his head to the side, his curiosity piqued.
"The First Top Layer of Hell. It was marked "Pride Ring," as dad was...very vocal that it belonged to his domain."
"So, why do you have to go there? What's your part in all of this?" Husk furrowed his brow.
"Long story short: I'm going to stop a rebellion, Husk..." Charlie eerily said. Husk and Angel Dust's eyes widened in surprise at Charlie's words. That was something new to hear from the Princess of Hell herself. As for Charlie, she took a deep breath, preparing herself to explain more properly. "There's a group of demons in the Ring of Limbo who have been challenging the hierarchy of Hell. They believe that they've been treated unfairly and that their voices haven't been heard, so It's a rebellion against the Inferno."
"But why you? Should it not be the army of Hell's job?" Husk questioned her even more.
"We don't have that, Husk. My Uncles and aunts have their own army that serves them. But even then, it should do the job, but...the situation got so bad down in Limbo."
"It seems like Vietnam War syndrome is prevalent even here. I guess it's true what they say: War never changes." Husk muttered, closed his eyes for a second, and shook his head. "So, what's with you, kiddo? How do you intend to stop the rebellion?"
Charlie paused for a moment, contemplating her response. "I-I want to talk with them at first, actually, listen to their grievances. It won't be easy, and it might take time, but I want to give them a chance to be heard."
"And what if they don't want to listen?" Husk crossed his arms, still skeptical. His mortal life experience in the 1940s, 50s, and 60s showed that it wouldn't work.
"If they refuse to engage in dialogue or continue their rebellious actions, then they will leave me no choice...." Here, Charlie closed her eyes for a moment, even thinking that made her feel... weird. "I-I really don't want to resort to violence, but as a princess, I have a responsibility to protect my people too."
"That's cold, Charlie." Even Angel got concerned. That's too much uncanny behavior from Charlie.
"I know, Angie, but again, I will try to talk with them...just hope for the best."
"It may be cold, but it is the most realistic outcome. Guerillas do not have much spirit in talking with their enemies." Husk shared his wisdom. "Still, I wonder... what can you tell about these rebels?"
"They call themselves the "Infernal Revolutionary Army," or so I was told by Ars Goetia."
"Let me guess: their main color is red one?"
"Yep." Charlie nodded.
"Of course... a bunch of left-wing radicals, no wonder." Husk sighed at himself as the memories of his past flashed in his mind. "I know these types: most revolutions are built on the principles of freedom from tyranny. But then they get greedy and tyrannical themselves and blatantly genocidal to the point they become another worst regime in a country."
"From your conversations with Angie, I understand you've been in a war before, Husk. What is it like?" Charlie wondered, hoping to hear from him more. The more she listens to Husk, the more she sees that Humanity is more complicated than she previously thought.
"What do you think it is, kid?" Husk was completely serious; his gaze turned distant as he reflected on his past experiences. "It's hell on its own. So many young people die in the trenches or on the battlefield. Sometimes you miraculously survive, but at the cost of losing a part of yourself. Sometimes you go insane. I read the news about current modern-day wars and think to myself what they are fighting for...so that politicians can bicker on their fancy seats and draw lines?"
"Surely your time during WW2 didn't make you feel that way?" Angel Dust commented. This time there was no mocking or joking manner from Spider, but respect.
"Of course...it's easy when your enemy is an Axis of Evil that tries to exterminate a lot of innocent folk...but that was nearly a century ago, Legs. Now modern-day war is when the young and stupid are tricked by the old and bitter into killing each other. Nationalism and patriotism are one hell of a cancer."
"I can't even imagine what it must have been like," Charlie whispered softly, her voice reflecting how she is concerned for Husk's well-being.
"Pray that it won't happen here in your own homeland, princess." Husk sighed as he slowly switched his eyes to Charlie once more. "I can see demons and humans are not that different than I thought... I don't like hearing what is happening with I.R.A. and Limbo. It only shows that things might get worse even if you defeat them. The next thing you know, some poor young Imp will be mobilized to defend his Ring from new waves of rebellions. And just like with humans, a soldier's deepest fear is never to come back home, kiddo...nobody is ready to march for war."
...
"...What did you say right now?" Charlie's heart skipped a beat as she realized Husk's last words were the same she heard from the whispers. The eerie familiarity sent a chill down her spine, and she couldn't shake off the feeling of foreboding that washed over her.
"You okay, Cha-cha? You look like you saw a ghost." Angel Dust remarked with a smirk.
"Yeah, I think so, Angie..." Charlie awkwardly rubbed her bandaged hand. "Just stressed, that's all."
"Aren't we all?" Husk observed Charlie's unease and concern, noticing the tension in her expression and the way she nervously fidgeted with her bandaged hand. He could tell that something was troubling her, something beyond the conversation they had just shared....but he decided not to bother Charlie with his own questions. Still, he can't believe he just shared it all. "Never thought I would be so open about this."
"Someone is getting softy..." Angel smirked.
"Yeah, thanks...and fuck you, you sack of shit." Husk growled, back to his normal self as a grumpy old cat... It was fun while it lasted.
Charlie only smiled at that. Part of her felt it was just the way Husk has his friendly banter. But despite his cursing, she grew to like Husk so fondly...he is like another dad to her, in a way.
The Princess of Hell finished the remainder of her drink, feeling a slight warmth spread through her body. Just as she set down the empty glass, she noticed Vaggie, Crymini, Baxter, and Nifty approaching.
"It looks like everyone is accounted for." Vaggie remarked.
"And Alastor is still not here?" Charlie noticed that the charismatic demon himself was absent.
"Knowing him, he must be busy with something else...or maybe he's off scheming his own plans. That radio demon is always up to something." Husk interjected with a snide remark.
"Yeah, typical of Al." Charlie shot Husk an appreciative look, thanking him for mentioning that. "Alright, I will tell him myself when he comes back. It's-"
"No offense, but could we hurry up?" Baxter complained, his impatience evident. "I have experiments to conduct, and I need to get back to my lab."
"Oh, I know! Let's clean while we wait!" Niffty's eyes widened with excitement as she heard Baxter's impatient comment. Her hyperactive nature kicked into full gear, and she couldn't help but jump in with her own enthusiasm.
"Whoa-whoa, Niffty! Slow down." Charlie raised her hand, trying to calm Niffty's hyperactive enthusiasm. While she appreciated the Cyclope's eagerness, they needed to address the situation at hand before diving into cleaning. "I just wanted to inform all of you that due to some personal matters, I will be away for a while. During my absence, Vaggie will be taking charge of the Happy Hotel. So please treat her with respect and listen to her commands if need be."
"Okie-Dokie...can I clean now?" Nifty eagerly waited.
"Yes, you- And there she goes." Charlie stopped herself as Niffty momentarily resumed her hyperactive cleaning mode with even more enthusiasm. She darted around the room, sweeping, dusting, and tidying up with unmatched speed.
"So that's it?" Crymini complained. "You're handing your own power to that raging tyrant?!"
"I will only be one if you don't behave here at the hotel, Crymini." Vaggie warned with a hissing tone. "And who do you call the raging one, you punk?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, like you have any authority to tell me what to do! So whatever, Grandps. How about you eat a dick instead?"
Crymini's outburst caught the attention of the others, and Vaggie's temper flared at the disrespect. Before Vaggie could respond, Husk intervened with a whistle.
"Here, don't be harsh on the moth girl over here." He tossed up a bottle of beer to her, which Crymini perfectly caught. Husk himself understood Crymini's rebellious spirit and knew how to diffuse the tension in his own way.
Crymini took a swig from the bottle, her initial anger subsiding slightly.
"Thanks, whiskers!" Crymini winked playfully.
"Don't mention it, kid." Husk once sighed to himself and is now observing Charlie in silence.
Vaggie shook her head and shifted her attention to addressing the entire group.
"Look, all I want from all of you is to behave here." Vaggie asserted firmly. She made sure to make eye contact with each member of the Hazbin Hotel crew, including Baxter. "So, I kindly ask you: no wrecking the hotel, no slumber parties, and especially no experiments...Doctor Baxter." She added, her gaze locked on him, ensuring he understood her expectations.
"Yeah, sure..." Baxter nodded in understanding. Still, he smirked mischievously, knowing that he would find other opportunities for his experiments, but for now, he would comply with Vaggie's request. "So zat all?"
"Yeah, that's all," Charlie confirmed, her gaze following Baxter as he left. She let out a sigh of relief, glad that the tension had dissipated. "Well, that happened. This is going to be a wild ride for all of us."
"Some are more thrilling, like yours, Charlie...and speaking of wild rides." Vaggie looked at Charlie with a concerned expression. "Do you plan to tell your dad about your decision to leave Pride for a while?"
Charlie's smile faded as soon as Vaggie mentioned her dad. She hesitated for a moment, struggling with her emotions, before finally responding.
"No, Vaggie, I won't tell him." Charlie admitted, her voice was tinged with disappointment. "And I'm not sure if I will. I... I'm still struggling with what my dad did to us, how he tried to undermine me and jeopardize the hotel. It's hard for me to trust him after all of that."
"Just...don't be too angry about him, and don't let it become a game of grudges. Our hotel is what’s more important." Vaggie replied gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder.
"I know...." A smile welled up in Charlie's eyes as she nodded. "It just still hurts, you know, to feel betrayed by him."
"You're not the only one, Cha-Cha." Angel Dust muttered to himself, also sympathizing with her.
Charlie took a moment to steady herself, taking a deep breath as she summoned the courage to face the challenges ahead. Despite the lingering hurt and disappointment caused by her father's actions, she refused to let it consume her. She would rise above it and prove her worth, both to herself and to those who doubted her...in the end, she is not just like her father.
"By the way, has anyone seen Cain?" Charlie looked around the room, her eyes searching for him.
"He's probably out in the backyard, causing trouble as usual." Husk let out a grumble, clearly annoyed by the mention of Cain's name.
"Well, I'll go check on him. I need to talk with him about my dad. Hola if Alastor comes back."
"Sure, Hon." Vaggie nod.
And so, leaving her friends behind, Charlie made her way to the hotel's backyard. Sure enough, there was Cain, leaning against a tree with a pissed-off expression. His piercing gaze met Charlie's as she walked to him. Charlie approached him, ready to engage in their usual banter.
"Sup, C.M...why have to be so fucking loud with your moans, huh?" Cain grumbled.
"Well, I wouldn't have to be loud if someone wasn't eavesdropping on my private moments." Charlie rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her face.
"Eavesdropping? Nah, just a good hearing, that's all." Cain scoffed, leaning against the tree with a smirk of his own.
"Guess it comes in handy when you're lurking in the shadows like the creepy vampire you are, Cain." Charlie chuckled, stepping closer to Cain and crossing her arms.
"Coming from the princess of rainbows and sunshine, that's quite the insult."
"Oh, please, like you're any better with your brooding and dark attire," Charlie shot back with a grin. "If we're going to trade insults, let's at least make it interesting."
"Sure, I'm always up for a challenge." Cain moved away from the tree, his grinning expression turning serious. "Let me go first: Why the FUCK did you agree to come to Limbo?!"
Charlie's smile faded slightly, and she met Cain's serious gaze.
"Look, Cain. I agreed to come to Limbo because the success of the Hotel means everything to me."
"And that's why you decided to play some rebel buster in Limbo?"
"What choice have I had?" Charlie complained back, taking a step closer to him. "My father has doubted me and now he have tried to stop me! I was forced to search alternatives."
"So, you're defying your father, huh? I can respect that." Cain arched an eyebrow, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice. "Again, why go through all this trouble? Why not just give up on the Hotel and live your life as a Soon-To-Be Queen?"
"Come on, Cain!" Charlie was baffled even more, to the point where it was getting on her nerves. "Look outside and see for yourself! I've seen the pain and suffering they endure, and it breaks my heart. I can't turn my back on them now!"
"And do you know why it's like this?!" Cain returned that growl. "Simple: Hell is fucked in the head because my parents were fucked in the head, so that me being fucked in the head smashed my brother's fucked-in-the-head brain. Now your fucked-in head is trying to magically undo this!"
"And so, what?! I understand that you've been through a lot, and I can't fully comprehend the weight of your actions. But dwelling on the past won't fix the present. We can't change what has already happened. Yes, our Hell is full of pain and suffering, and we can't solve every problem or undo every mistake. But that doesn't mean I can't change it for the better!"
"And what if I don't believe in redemption? What if I think some sinners here are beyond saving?" He challenged as Cain left with a bitter chuckle. The naivety and ego from Charlie are something, alright. "You don't know human nature like I do. The rotten core of human traits consumes everyone here. I've seen the worst that Hell has to offer with the heinous shit they come up with here. Is this really what you care about? For these scumbags to find salvation?"
"Then...they can stay here as long as they want." Charlie's voice was slightly cracked. "But I've seen my own friends for what they've been through. All of them have good hearts deep down."
"Even that smiling radio fuck?" Cain found it amusing.
"Especially him." Charlie was sincere about that.
"Uh-huh...whatever you say, C.M." Cain's dry chuckle echoed through the air once more, his skepticism evident. Arguing with her is pointless; she is just like a father, always stuck with her own ego. "You do realize that I must tell your father about your absence, right?"
Charlie's expression hardened upon hearing that, and she crossed her arms in defense. "Then go ahead and tell my father. I've made my decision, and I won't be swayed by his disapproval. I'm not a child anymore..."
"That you are..." Cain sighed to himself. He knew then that she had grown stronger and more independent as time went by. "But it was your decision in the first place. Just keep in mind that I'm not here to protect the Hotel. I was just spying on your dad's behalf in the first place. If Alastor or even you, daddy, decide to wreak havoc on the Hotel, I won't be here to save it."
"I know..." Charlie nodded, understanding his position. "But I appreciate your honesty."
"Yeah, thanks, I guess." With a nod, Cain stepped back, going back to his tree and leaning against it. "So where is that Radio fuck? Normally he is lurking somewhere, but even I can't feel him."
"Vaggie mentioned he went for his "hunting season" for a while."
"Hunting season, huh? It must be fun for him."
"It's nothing unusual with him, Cain."
"Al being, Al is...well...just being himself, that's all."
Hell/The Ring of Pride/Somewhere far away from Pentagram City.
*Heavy breathing followed by gasps for air.*
The male Jackal sinner raced through the dense forest, his heart pounding in his chest and heavy breaths escaping his lips. The eerie silence of the surroundings was punctuated by the distant crackling of a radio, emanating an unsettling static that seemed to fill the air with an ominous presence. As he sprinted through the underbrush, the twisted branches of the trees clawed at his clothes and scraped against his skin. The haunting melody from the radio grew louder, its distorted tunes seeping into his consciousness, fueling his fear.
Every now and then, the Jackal would steal a glance behind him, only to catch fleeting glimpses of a figure shrouded in shadows. His crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness. It was as if the forest itself obeyed his sinister command, guiding him closer to his prey. The static from the radio intensified, warping into a cacophony of discordant notes that sent shivers down the Jackal's spine. He could almost feel his presence inching closer, his malevolent aura suffusing the air.
Branches snapped and leaves rustled as the Jackal sinner pushed his body to its limits, desperately searching for an escape. But no matter how fast he ran or how hard he tried to hide, he could not shake off the impending doom that loomed over him.
The laughter of his pursuer echoed through the forest, chilling the Jackal to his core. It was hauntingly melodic laughter, sending a chill down his spine and instilling a deep sense of dread within him. With each step, he drew nearer, his power radiating through the trees, leaving the Jackal feeling trapped in an inescapable nightmare.
The Jackal sinner hit the forest floor, the impact jarring his body and stealing his breath. Pain shot through his limbs as he struggled to regain his footing, but his muscles protested against the exertion. He could hear the rapid thumping of his own heartbeat, drowning out the eerie silence that had fallen over the forest.
A twisted smile tugged at the corners of his pursuer's lips as the smiling overlord stepped into the clearing, his presence casting a long shadow over the fallen Jackal. The static from the radio reached a crescendo, filling the air with a maddening cacophony that seemed to mock the sinner's desperate plight.
"Shit! No, no!" Jackal Sinner tried to crawl away as he spotted Alastor, but his attempt only led him to collide with a tree, further trapping him.
Alastor's eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he slowly approached, each step deliberate, his hand concealed behind his back.
"Ah, it seems our little game of chase has come to an end. I must give you credit, my fellow sinner. You've managed to surpass the records of some of my previous participants." Alastor's voice dripped with honeyed malice as he spoke, sending a chill down the Jackal's spine.
"Please, show mercy!" Jackal Sinner begged, desperate. "I haven't done anything truly heinous!"
Alastor chuckled. He circled the trapped Jackal, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"Now, now, my little dog friend. Mercy is not a currency I deal in, especially with individuals like yourself." Alastor replied, his tone dripping with wicked delight. "You see, my dear mother used to say...never judge people solely by their appearance. But when it turns out they've harmed and manipulated others, well, I can't help but get involved."
"I didn't mean any harm, Mr. Radio Demon!" Jackal Sinner pleaded once more. "They were a bunch of crooked little bastards who sold me cheap-ass smuggled goods. So, what if I sought revenge?"
"And yet you stooped so low as to use their own child as a pawn in your blackmail scheme. Oh, the audacity." Alastor savored the blatant lies that spilled from the Jackal's mouth.
The Jackal's breath hitched, his trembling form betraying his fear as he realized the dire consequences of his actions.
"I'm sorry, okay!" Jackal's eyes began to tear. "My life here in fucking Hell sucks. I-"
"Sh-sh-sh." Alastor, out of nowhere, brought his finger to Jackal's mouth, shushing him. "Now-now, my friend, every single one of us is responsible for themselves to be here. You, me, and everyone you see down here...are all lost at this point. But don't you worry, my friend. Face your eternal damnation with a happy tune. Just smile at the abyss-"
A̵̡͈̜͙͛̅̾͂ǹ̸̝̩̎͗́ḑ̶͓̞̝͓̾̔͝ ̵̫̜̤̣̒̓̇̐́i̶̤̞̙̻̐͛t̴̨̙̻̅ ̸̰̪͂́̈́̇w̴̧̳̣̣̐͠i̸̧͚̻͉̲̐l̶̛̥͈̅͝͝l̸͉͖̔͂͝ ̸͙͒̓s̶̺͖̙̗̈́͛m̸̢̨̤͙͐̓͋̐į̵̛̙̫͎̘͆̕̕l̸̘̹͎̣͎͐̒͑̅́e̶͇̖̜̗͌͌͝͝ ̷̹͌̄̕͠͝ą̵͖̬̭̞̀́̉t̴̨̩̬̼́͂ ̷̥̀̑y̶͎̙͉̝̞̾̈́̋o̵͔͍̦̓̇̍̅̎ͅù̸̝͛̊̑ ̴̨̝́̎̏b̷͔͗̓́͗̕ȁ̷̯͌c̵͕͚͊̀̑̅
The Jackal Sinner could not respond as Alastor's face became a face of horror before he and his Shadow lunged at him him...and unspeakable horror ensued that the Wendigo himself is known for. Jackal's screams echoed through the forest as many birds let themselves fly from the loud noises. Soon the screams subsided as only the chewing sound from Alastor...he obviously used a fork and knife for this.
Alastor savored the flavor of the meat in his mouth. He paused for a moment, as if deep in thought, before speaking to his shadow.
"Hmm...a bit sour, don't you think?" Alastor remarked. His shadow seemed to respond in agreement, continuing to relish the essence. "I guess you could say it's a 'lemon'-tary experience!"
*Laugh track from Alastor's radiostuff.*
The Radio Demon chuckled at his own pun, reveling in the absurdity of the moment. The Shadow remained silent, its form undulating as if silently chuckling along with Alastor's jest.
As Alastor's Shadow savored the essence in the forest, its attention was suddenly drawn to a distant movement. His ears perked up, and he glanced in the direction of the commotion with an intrigued expression.
"Well, well, have you found us another eager participant?" Alastor jested, expecting his shadowy companion to nod in kind. However, to his surprise and annoyance, the Shadow simply detached itself from the essence and crawled away, disregarding Alastor's remark entirely.
"Well, aren't you a rebellious little shade today?" Alastor narrowed his eyes, his smile turned into a slight smile frown. He found the Shadow's behavior both amusing and intriguing, a rare occurrence. With a pat on Jackal's lifeless body, Alastor chuckled softly. "Well, well, my dear Jackal, it seems you'll have to wait a bit longer. Fear not, for I shan't keep you waiting too long."
Leaving Jackal's body behind for the moment, Alastor's attention returned to his elusive Shadow. He followed its trail, navigating through the twisting paths of the forest with an uncanny familiarity.
After a brisk walk, Alastor found himself at the end where the forest ends, with the beautiful scenery of Pentagram City itself in the distance. It's not New Orleans, but it's still quite a decent view.
Alastor's shadow stood at the edge of a hill with another man. That "man" wore very old 19th-century attire: a black top hat with a black overcoat, a briefcase on his left hand, and a cane on his right one.
Alastor's steps slowed as he approached the hill, taking in the sight of his Shadow standing alongside the mysterious man. The stranger exuded an aura of antiquity, his attire reminiscent of a bygone era. Alastor's interest was piqued, for encounters like these were rare in the depths of Hell.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Alastor's voice carried a hint of intrigue as he addressed the enigmatic man. "A visitor from the past, perhaps? Or a lost soul caught in the currents of time?"
"Hello to you too, Alastor... LeBlanc." The Mysterious Stranger greeted him with a very apathetic tone.
Alastor's smile slightly wavered for a moment, replaced by a smile of genuine surprise. His eyes narrowed as he studied the stranger before him.
"LeBlanc? Well, that's a surname I haven't heard in a long time since my mom-..." Alastor stopped himself as even more questions arose. "Do I know you?"
"I hope so..." The mysterious stranger turned his eyes at Alastor. His face was so thin that you could see the skull lines, not to mention the deep black marks under his eyes. "I seem to know you..."
"I'm not much of a boaster, but I'm pretty good at remembering faces." Alastor's curiosity was piqued, and he took a step closer to the mysterious stranger.
"Are you?" The Mysterious Stranger barely showed any surprise. "Do you remember Mr. Vox's face, Alastor?"
"You mean that shitfaced television asshole?"
"No...not him....I'm mean his own father, Mr. Vox." The Mysterious Stranger sighed...how typical of them. "I'm impressed how much your own mother and father hide their past from you. Mr. Vox was an entrepreneur back in the 1910s, with his idea of creating his own proto-invention that would become known as "Television" in your language. Your mother and him had a long grudge, to the point where you became a victim of it, and it won't be until 1918 when you kill Mr. Vox with an axe as your first committed murder. Thus, the Axeman of New Orleans was born."
"Not really...I don't remember him." Alastor reluctantly agreed that he had forgotten who his first victim was...that was an entirely different Alastor back then.
"Then why would you remember me, friend?" The mysterious stranger finally turned his body toward Alastor; even his own shadow stared, as if judging his host's past actions. "You've forgotten far more important people than me ."
Alastor's expression grew somber as the weight of the stranger's words settled upon him. Memories began to stir within him. He had always embraced his dark nature, relishing in the chaos and the hunt, but the true extent of his forgotten actions remained very distant.
"My mother used to say it's not nice to talk with acquaintances without giving their names."
"And your mother told you to never talk with strangers, Alastor." The Mysterious Stranger apathetically responded. "You broke so many rules that Nadège taught you not to do that. A poor woman's soul would shatter to see you for what you have become."
"You speak of my mother as if you knew her well." Alastor's grip tightened on his cane. "But I have no recollection of ever crossing paths with you or of you being a part of our lives."
"No, we never had the chance to meet in the realm of the living. But I have observed you from afar, watched as the world twisted you into what you are today...I was there when you practiced your voodoo magic. I was there when you overthrew the ancient Overlords of Pentagram City."
"You were there?" Alastor's voice trembled slightly. "Again, forgive my manners, but who are you?"
"Names hold little meaning, Alastor. I'm beyond the ways you humans use your voice to communicate your own identity." The Mysterious Stranger's lips curled into a sinister smile. "But you may call me..."
Woland.
"I assume you're my king's little secret, aren't you?" Alastor's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the name. He rarely gets himself tense here, but there is something wrong with Woland.
"In a way...someone must keep an eye on the Seven Deadly Sins as well." Woland continued, stroking Alastor's shadow's chin. "I'm quite curious about you, Alastor. Nearly a century has passed since you perished from the fatal shot of that hunter. And next thing you do is cause carnage in Pentagram City. And now here you are, no longer having any strength to be old yourself."
"I got bored, that's all. It's lonely when nobody is trying to stop you." Alastor's eyes narrowed, irritation mingling with the unease that Woland's presence evoked. He could feel the weight of Woland's gaze upon him, as if the mysterious entity were peering into the depths of his very soul.
"The tale of many..." Woland muttered. "Amusing how Overlords come and go as time moves forward. I'm still impressed you haven't found your own demise already. Every single Sinner will meet their end, sooner or later. The nature of humanity will take its course as bodies pile up, and that's why I wonder about you, Alastor. Have you ever stopped to ponder what your legacy will be? Will Sinners even remember you after 5000 years?"
"I have made my mark, Mr. Woland." Alastor replied with a touch of arrogance. "It doesn't matter if my name echoes through the ages or fades into obscurity; it is inconsequential to me...all that matters is survival."
"And then what?" Woland once more spoke up, allowing Alastor to ponder more. "So you survive the next 25 years, then 50, or maybe even 1000 years, then what?"
There was a sincere silence as Alastor couldn't find the proper way to say it. This is something he had never considered before.
"Do you truly believe that you are different from the rest, Alastor?" Woland's voice dripped with skepticism. "You have risen to the top, revel in chaos, and grow bored when there are no more challenges. But you are merely following in the footsteps of countless Overlords before you. Your path is not unique, nor is your destiny."
"I without any help, managed to defeat the ancient overlords. No one has ever done this before." Alastor retorted. A surge of frustration coursed through him, his pride wounded by Woland's words.
"And there will be a time when an even more powerful Overlord will come and defeat you...you and Vox too. You are blinded by your own delusions. Your power, your legacy...it is all a facade. You are but a fleeting shadow, destined to fade into obscurity like those who came before you. The cycle cannot break down because of you; it will continue long after you shall perish."
Alastor's grip tightened on his cane, and the radio cracked with stuttering. He refused to accept Woland's judgment. But obviously, the enigmatic person in front of him has never shown fear to the Radio Demon; it's far beyond him.
"Ignorance is bliss, Mr. Alastor. But perhaps you wonder why I'm speaking with you right now." Woland once more continued. "Deep down, I know you care for Charlie Morningstar enough to make a deal with her without taking her soul. Part of you breaks down when she is suffering as well. As we speak, you and I, My..."child" will be leaving away from all of you in that Hotel of yours."
"So, you know her too?" Alastor's voice carried a hint of concern, his eyes narrowing as he studied Woland's expression.
"I know more than you might think, Alastor. I see the turmoil within her, as I see the conflict within you as well, torn between your own nature and a glimmer of something... different . That's why I want you to accompany her into Limbo...simple as that, as you humans say."
"Lucifer won't allow me to leave the ring."
"Since when did it stop you before, Alastor. Surely you won't be a pawn in Lucifer's game...are you?"
Alastor's radio crackled, the static punctuating the tense silence that hung between them. He hesitated for a moment, torn between skepticism and a nagging curiosity.
"Ah, of course...perhaps I can give you something in return then." Woland moved in closer, his voice barely a whisper.
"I already have everything I need, Mr. Woland..." Alastor wasn't interested in any deals.
"If only that would have been the truth you tell me, Mr. Alastor. There is a part of you that wished since your first day in Hell. Would you be so kind as to tune your radio to 666 FM?"
Alastor hesitated for a moment, his grip on his cane tightening once more. Nevertheless, without another word, Alastor turned the dial on his radio to 666 FM, feeling a surge of energy ripple through the air. Static filled the room, gradually transforming into a haunting melody that resonated with a dark power.
Woland's smile grew wider. The radio crackled with whispers, as if a portal to another realm had opened within its frequencies...all just in time for her to tune up the radio.
Heaven/Lower Heaven/The Empyrean City/The LeBlanc Apartment.
"Good evening, Heaven! Archangel Sandalphon is back again with the news."
"C.H.E.R.U.B reports another successful mission, guiding Earth's brethren towards our Lord's love. Cherub Deerie expresses that there will be plenty more after the recent successful reshuffling of C.H.E.R.U.B staff."
"Archangel Zadkiel also reminds all of us to join her event of spiritual guidance. All participants are welcome to freely seek solace and peace with nature."
"As for the weather, tomorrow's forecast for Heaven is nothing short of perfection. Expect sunny skies with a gentle breeze, ideal conditions for all your walks."
"That's all, folks. Tune up for the Annual Olympic Games of Heaven tomorrow at 11:00 AM."
"And now...for some music."
The radio's dial turned, and the melody of The Ink Spots' "Maybe" filled the airwaves of Heaven. In a quaint kitchen, Nadege stood over a stove, expertly stirring a pot of aromatic jambalaya.
"♪ Then, maybe you'll ask me to come back again...and maybe...I'll say maybe. ♪" Nadege hummed a soft tune as she poured her heart into each ingredient. Cooking was not merely a task for her; it was a way to bring comfort and joy to others, to create moments of shared bliss, and to kill boredom.
It's a bit weird that it's so quiet these days, as Darnell is running around somewhere. Now Nadege spends her time doing home chores and occasional knitting, sometimes with Ms. Ragnatella. Life in heaven is so easy here that you don't have to worry about any Earthly things like taxes, but at the same time, it's not the old cottage she used to have.
Back in New Orleans, life was hard. So many times, she had to scrape by to feed her child or get something on the table for him. Though life in Heaven was serene and devoid of earthly worries, Nadege couldn't help but yearn for the lively chaos of her past...not to mention, it gets boring...and her son is not here, whatsoever.
*Radio crackle*
As Nadege enjoyed the moment of tranquility in her kitchen, the soft crackling of static abruptly interrupted the melodic tunes of The Ink Spots. Frowning, she reached over and tapped the radio, hoping to remedy the interference. However, the static persisted, growing louder and more persistent.
In Hell, Alastor's radiostuff crackled with static before the strange voice began to grow louder and louder as the signal got clearer. No words can describe what Alastor just heard. If he had a heart, it would have skipped a beat. It had been an eternity since he last heard her voice, and the unexpected connection sent a surge of emotions through him.
"Ah, mon cher, what's wrong with you now?" Through the static, Alastor could hear Nadege's frustration growing. The sound of her voice brought a bittersweet nostalgia, reminding Alastor of the simpler times they had shared. And so, gathering courage, he left his voice to be heard.
"H-Hello, Mama."
Back in Heaven, Nadege had to blink twice or more when she heard that. Even from Alastor's point of view, he can see she got startled by his voice.
"Talk...there won't be a second chance for you to speak with her." Woland advised, apathetic in his voice as always.
"Alastor... i-i-Is that you?" His mom's voice emitted from Alastor's radiostuff. He heard how she clutched the radio tightly, as if holding onto a lifeline that connected her to her son.
Alastor once more had to gather courage to speak...the things he can tell her what happened to him since 1918...some things are more shameful to him than others, but...she always told him to not lie to her.
"Mama, it's me... It's really me." Alastor's voice trembled slightly. He, at best, could try to compose himself despite the surge of emotions swirling within him.
"Oh, my boy..." Nadege tried to hold herself, tears forming, but she tried to hold them. "I can't believe this. I can finally hear your voice. You don't know how much I missed -."
But before Nadege could finish her sentence, a sharp snap of fingers echoed through the darkness, causing the radio transmission to abruptly cut off. The crackling static intensified, drowning out their voices away from each other.
"MAMA!" Alastor's eyes widened with surprise and anger. He looked around, searching for the source of the interference, and his gaze landed on Woland. An apathetic smile played on Woland's lips as he observed Alastor's reaction.
"I believe your conversation has reached its limit, Wendigo." Woland said, his tone laced with a sinister edge.
"G̷̭̐İ̸̜̈V̶̹̿E̷̘̪̗̱͠ ̶͍̠̼̿̅̃̑́H̵̩̊̾͊̈́͝Ȩ̷͇̜̤͘ͅR̸̯̱̈̾͜ ̷͔̳͉̦͑B̴̰́̓͊A̵̺͖̠̞͆̎̽̇͠Ç̶͈͔̹͖̆͊͆̃Ḵ̶͊̎͌̓" Alastor's voice cracked with radio static as he bellowed with frustration,
"No...I don't grant wishes unless they do my bidding...seek that Charlie will do her part in Limbo...and you may reunite with the one you longed for eternity."
"And how come I can trust you to do your part?" Alastor's frustration still boiled over. He knew that dealing with demons like Woland would never be simple or straightforward. But the chance to be reunited with his mother, was a temptation too strong to resist.
"You can't...but I allow you to have her as long as you comply with my will. Even if you reject it, you all in Hell are doing my bidding...one way or another." Woland was indifferent to him, unfazed by Alastor's typical outburst. "I already set a notion for Nädege to fall to sin just for you...even in Heaven, they are still not immune to me. The paths are open for you to decide...I will see you around, Alastor LeBlanc."
With those words, Woland vanished into the darkness with a blink of an eye, leaving Alastor seething with anger. But underneath it all, there was a spark of something else...an Alastor way before his road to madness.
"Mama," Alastor whispered into the void as he glanced at Heaven. "I'm so sorry."
In the kitchen Nadege curled on the floor, tears streaming as she clutched the radio tightly, her hopes dashed by the interference and sudden disconnection. Her Jambalyal was roasted to the point it's now a burned mess of a food.
2) "Je suis tellement désolée, Alastor... *sniff* Je suis tellement désolée que maman ait échoué avec toi."
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) "I should have told her the truth... ugh, why are you so nervous about it, Vaggie?" - (Spanish)
2) "I'm so sorry, Alastor...I'm so sorry for mommy to fail you." - (French)
Chapter 32: Exodus To Limbo
Summary:
"In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again." – Alice In Wonderland
Chapter Text
October 1, 2025, AD (93 Days Before the Next Purge), 7:21 PM.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Acheron City
If there is one thing you have to learn here in Pride Ring as a Sinner, it is that there are no better cities than Pentagram City.
In the sprawling expanse of Hell's Pride Ring, nestled along the banks of the Acheron River, lay Acheron City. As a port city and a vital trade hub, one might expect it to thrive with opulence and prosperity. However, reality was far from such expectations.
Acheron City seemed trapped in a perpetual state of neglect and destitution. The cityscape painted a picture of decay, with crumbling buildings and dilapidated infrastructure. The streets bore the scars of neglect, littered with debris and evidence of decay. The port sat eerily quiet, with only a few ships from Envy Ring docked at the port.
It's ironic how 105 years have passed since the C.R.U.S.A.D.E. happened, and Acheron never recovered from that. Even from the window of an SUV passing through the streets of Acheron City, you can see the desolation, not to mention the feeling of nostalgia.
In the dimly lit interior of the SUV, the "Sinner" in his Crow form sat in the backseat, his eyes fixed on the crumbling buildings and the ghosts of a once-vibrant city. The Driver, a bald eagle, maneuvered the vehicle through the desolate streets of Acheron City.
Beside the driver sat the jackdaw passenger, eyes darting from one crumbling building to another. She held a blessed rifle in any case if she had to defend herself and the escort if necessary. And in the backseat, the blonde woman in the jumpsuit worked on her laptop, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she sifted through documents.
"So, it's true what they say...this is the site of our biggest purge ever in Hell, right?" The Jackdaw "Sinner" muttered before looking back at Crow Demon. "You've been here before, lieutenant...what was it like?"
"Imagine a typical purge day in Pentagram City but only 10 times more devastating..." The Crow "Sinner" nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on the desolate streets outside. Memories of that battle lingered in his mind. "And it was the biggest even today...more than 100,000 Exorcist brothers and sisters of our order from all Legions participated in the sacking of Acheron."
"Damm..." The Jackdaw "Sinner" let out a low whistle.
"Serves them right." The Driver nodded grimly. His gaze fixed on the road ahead. "It was a sight I'll never forget. But at the same time, we showed these traitor scums that nobody fucks with Heaven any time soon."
"Time will tell, Knight." The Crow Sinner sighed once more before glancing to the left at the Blonde Woman. "So, is it ready, Mother Eve?"
"Yes, here you go." The Blonde Woman nodded, offering the folder document to the Knight-Lieutenant. "Knight-Lieutenant Rönne Schaffer, meet your target: a typical aristocratic piece of shit named Gaap Goetia."
He accepted the folder from Mother Eve flipped open the folder, his eyes checking the contents. Inside, he found a collection of photographs, documents, and background information on their target, Gaap Goetia. Most of the content revealed a Goetian Demon with a haughty and high-ego demeanor, dressed in expensive clothing, and surrounded by a sense of entitlement.
"So...an heir to the House of Paimon, huh?" Rönne muttered. The more he delved deeper into the documents, the more he learned of Gaap Goetia's extensive network.
"Since his father is the first son of King Paimon, he is pretty much the heir apparent in the worst-case scenario in Ars Goetia." Eve explained. "But it doesn't stop here. Check the next page."
Rönne turned the page of the folder, his eyes widening as he read the information presented before him. The next page revealed not only Gaap Goetia's connections and influence within the demon hierarchy but also his involvement with the other party.
"He was a Cardinal?!" Rönne was baffled by this.
"Not only...he was there on that day in Dis City during your and Jeanne's carnage."
Rönne's eyes narrowed as he absorbed it. Gaap Goetia's ties to the Diabolical States added a new layer of complexity.
"Ex-Cardinal or not, it doesn't change anything for me..." Rönne stated it firmly, despite the noticeable bitterness in his tone. "So then, Mother Eve, everything is the same, just as we planned?"
"Correct. Since the Infernal Express prohibits Sinners on their trains, you must infiltrate it through the depot and wait until the train passes the desolate wastelands of Limbo. Then...you know what you have to do."
"And the escape plan?"
"Considering that the Princess of Hell will be on the same train as Gaap, the window of escape is short. That's why I informed the I.R.A. that the train will pass on schedule. Use them to get the hell out of the train and escape to the wilderness of Limbo. After that, we will pick you up."
"And again with I.R.A.? I understand the necessity of working with the I.R.A. for our escape plan, but it still doesn't sit well with me." Rönne sighed, his frustration evident. "We're supposed to be bringing justice to Hell, not teaming up with rebels. It's cynical for us to use them."
"I know it goes against our principles, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It's not my decision for Heaven to cooperate with anti-Hell rebels..." Eve nodded sympathetically. "But Moxxara has proven herself to be the one who honors the pact. As long as her goals align with ours in this particular situation...then we will cooperate with them."
"And still I don't like it..." Rönne couldn't help but let out a small grunt of agreement. He knew arguing against the decision to work with the I.R.A. further would be futile at this point. "Alright then...is there anything else I need to know?"
"Yes, there is." Eve nodded, motioning for the driver to find a good place to park their SUV. "We will disembark you a bit away from the Train Terminal. Phenex Goetia will text you to meet her somewhere secluded, and she will guide you through the next steps."
"Wonderful..." Rönne's frustration lingered in his sigh, but he knew he had to push aside his personal reservations for the sake of their mission. "But I understand, Mother Eve."
"I know it's not an ideal situation, but remember, we fight for a greater cause." Eve placed a hand on Rönne's shoulder.
"So, we say..." Rönne returned it, going silent once more. And just in time, the SUV came to a halt at the side of the road, with the driver reaching for the car brake lever.
Rönne released a breath, gathering courage for what was to come, and instinctively reached for his " Blackfish Carbine Rifle ," ready to step out and embark on his mission. But before he could open the door, the Driver held up a hand to stop him.
"One more thing, Knight-Lieutenant, we have a Sentinel and Exorcist squad on standby, ready to provide your assistance if the situation becomes dire."
"Thank you, but I hope it doesn't come to that." Rönne was grateful for the additional support. He then turned his attention back to Eve. "Mother Eve, will you be in contact throughout the mission?"
"No, Knight-Lieutenant. My attention will be directed at a hotel that Heaven is currently ...well, interested in. From this point on, you are an undercover Sinner without any ties to Heaven, hired by Goetia to murder Gaap. But rest assured, we have faith in your abilities. May you bring forth God's righteousness into the land of traitors and come back to us alive...Sentinel." Eve made a slow nod in the end, promising that a promotion was sincere.
"Good luck, Knight-Lieutenant Deadeye. Kick Gaap's ass for all of us in the Order!" The Driver and Front-Passenger "Sinners" also saluted their brother in Exorcism.
Rönne only flickered his cowboy hat at them, giving his goodbye to them. With those silent parting words, he stepped out of the SUV, his Blackfish Carbine Rifle in hand, and closed the door behind him.
The SUV quickly drove away as Rönne Schaffer put his carbine rifle on his back holster and stood at the side of the road, taking a moment to collect himself. He glanced around, observing the desolate surroundings of Acheron City. The crumbling buildings and eerie silence seemed not to have changed much since 1920.
"It's been ages since I stepped my foot here..." Rönne admitted that there is always a weird feeling in him. As a Sinner/Winner, you are always stuck in the mind of the age you died, 21 in his case, and still...it feels like he is getting old.
But clearing his thoughts, The Gunslinger reached for his phone to check something. And obviously there were no new messages; either that Phoenix Bird is stalling or that she is just playing games... could be both. He let out a frustrated sigh as he pocketed his phone, still wondering if there was a hidden agenda behind her, but for now he had to remain patient.
Just across the road is a small park where there is to be a memorial to The First Purge...might as well check on it to kill time. Hence, walking across the road, Rönne stepped into the park.
The memorial stood tall and solemn, a reminder of the devastating event that had unfolded more than a century ago. He approached the stone monument, reading the inscription carved into its surface. It detailed the horrors of The Grand Purge and the lives lost during that dark period in its own way.
"And Just as you thought things could not get worse, they certainly did."
"In January 1921, Acheron City was the site of The Biggest Extermination to date by these Exorcunts and their pigeon wings. Be proud that you are standing on the place where the annual pain in the ass started to become even worse for us."
"Seriously, I give this city the award of worst city of 2021."
"Oh, and guess what?"
"They paid me 1000 Souls to write this inscription! Do you know how much time I wasted writing this crap!? I swear to God Lucifer, my fingers were broken that day!"
"And you, reader, should you not be running away while a chaser from your Mortal Life is tracking you? You never know :)"
"Who are you calling an annual pain in the ass, asshole..." Rönne's brows furrowed as he read the unexpected and biased inscription on the memorial. He couldn't help but shake his head at the sarcastic tone and the dismissive attitude. "This is no way to honor the memory of those who suffered."
*Notification Ping*
And that must be her...
Rönne quickly pulled out his phone, scrolling and ignoring the unread messages from his mother before he saw that Phenex had sent him a message. He opened the message and read its content.
"Long time no see, darling."
"I'm waiting for you at the old abandoned Satanic Church a few blocks away. I have something...interesting to show you ;)"
"Don't keep me waiting, handsome. XOXO" - Your favorite bird.
"Always the same..." Rönne shook his head at Phenex's playful message. Her flirtatious nature and sarcasm were pretty much familiar to him. At the same time, it's clever because it's rather vague, so nobody will assume it came from Goetia. "Alright, Phenex, abandoned church it is then."
He pocketed his phone and left the memorial behind, making his way through the streets of Acheron City, ignoring some Sinner passersby, one of whom offered him a blowjob for his blessed Carbine in exchange...typical Sinners.
But eventually, The Exorcist in disguise reached the old abandoned Satanic Church. Due to its state, the barred windows and locked main doors presented a minor obstacle.
"Must go around," Rönne whispered to himself as the Exorcist scanned the surroundings, searching for an alternative entrance.
His eyes landed on a narrow alleyway adjacent to the church, seemingly leading to a side entrance. Without hesitation, he made his way towards the alley with his hand near his revolver's holster, prepared for any potential threats, be they an ambush or just a robbery attempt.
Navigating through the dimly lit passage, he found an emergency door that was half broken. The door appeared to be locked by a barely working doorknob. He carefully pulled out a set of lockpicking tools from his utility belt and began working on the lock.
*Click*
"And you still got this..." Rönne smirked at himself, glad his lockpicking hadn't rusted out completely.
Pulling his lockpick back to his belt, the crow "demon" pushed open the door, revealing a dimly lit hallway inside the abandoned church. The scent of dust and decay filled the air as he cautiously stepped over the threshold, his senses on high alert. The eerie silence of the The church seemed to amplify the sound of his footsteps as he made his way deeper into the building.
"Phenex, where are you?" Rönne whispered to himself, his voice echoing through the empty halls. He cautiously explored the interior, his senses on high alert.
He finally arrived at the main nave of the abandoned church. Moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the dusty floor. The pews lined the sides, creating an atmosphere of solemnity and forgotten worship. Rönne's eyes scanned the vast space, searching for any sign of Phenex. His steps were slow and deliberate, the silence of the church only broken by the sound of his own breathing.
*Floor Creak*
Rönne immediately pulled out his revolver in a swift motion.
"Show yourself! That's the only warning I will give you!" Rönne warned. His own soul's heart raced as he trained his revolver on the source of the sound.
The dim sunlight revealed a group of figures slowly emerging from the shadows. As they stepped closer, Rönne realized they were a bunch of homeless imps, their tattered clothes and worn-out horns giving away their desperate life.
"Who the fuck are you?"The imps rudely asked with hands raised in the air. "And what in Lucifer's name are you doing here?"
"I ask myself that question every time..." Rönne whispered that to himself as his eyes narrowed, assessing the group of homeless imps before him. Their aggressive demeanor and foul language suggested they were not inclined towards friendly conversation. Still, Rönne remained calm. He pulled back his revolver to his holster, but his hand rested on his holster. "I could ask the same. Why are the three of you here?"
"Well, this is our territory now. We claimed it fair and square. What's your business here?" One of the imps, the largest among them, sneered and crossed his arms.
Rönne sighed, realizing he had stumbled upon an unintended encounter with the local imps. "Look, my imp friends...I don't want any trouble, and neither do you three, I presume. So, I kindly ask you to leave this place, at least for two hours."
The imps glanced at each other, but the largest imp stepped forward, his stance defiant. "Why should we listen to you, Sinner?"
"Birky, he has a blessed gun." The middle one whispered, fear evident.
Rönne noticed the shift in the imp named Birky's expression, a flicker of fear crossing his face as he exchanged glances with the other imps. Rönne took a step closer, pulling out his gun, causing the other two imps to back away.
"What you see in my hand is "The Redeemer " revolver, imps. A hybrid of a pistol and revolver. Do you know how many bullets it holds?"
"H-how many?"
"18 per reload, and three will be just enough to kill you all." Rönne glanced at his gun before pulling back to his holster; his tone was still calm but firm. "I don't wish to use this gun unless absolutely necessary. But I assure you, it's in your best interest to listen."
The imps exchanged wary glances, their defiance waning as they processed Rönne's threats. It seemed to have made an impact. Birky hesitated for a moment before stepping back, followed by the other imps.
"And where would we go?! Fucking Acheron and its lack of opportunities! You can't just throw us away, you sinner fuck!"
"You had your chance to listen to me..." Rönne stated it coldly. "But if you're not willing to cooperate, then I have no choice ."
With a swift motion, Rönne reached for his belt.
"No, please!" All three of them closed their eyes and covered their heads, not wanting to see them get shot, but that asshole...
*Coin Clink*
One of the imps opened his eyes and looked back to see that the Crow demon was now holding a little bag of souls. He tossed them up in the air, allowing one of them to catch it.
"Take them. Use them to rent a hotel or something. Then it's up to you." Rönne said, his voice softer now but still showing coldness. "Besides, this place won't save you from the annual pain in the ass...Exterminators are not that picky when it comes to their annual purge quota."
The imps stared at the bag of souls, their eyes widening.
"Thank you, Sinner," Birky stammered, grateful. "Y-You won't see us here again."
"Make sure you do..." Rönne muttered to himself, his gaze following the imps until they disappeared from his sight. Once they were gone, he rubbed his beak in contemplation. In the past, he would have swiftly dealt with such encounters, eliminating any potential threats without hesitation or a single thought, but now, part of him has grown soft or just...defeated.
With another sigh, Rönne took a seat on one of the pews to wait for Phenex. The silence of the abandoned church enveloped him, allowing his thoughts to wander.
He turned his glance at one of the stained glass windows, depicting Rönne's old "friend," Lord-Cardinal Iblis of the Diabolical States. Now it only made sense as to why Phenex wanted this place...for the huge deja vu feeling.
The Exorcist's eyes narrowed, dissatisfied to see Iblis' appearance once again, even if it was a depiction of him. But his gaze would soon shift away from the stained glass and back to the empty space of the abandoned church. He refused to let the past consume him, but he also couldn't ignore the feelings that resurfaced in the presence of Iblis's image. Whenever he remembers Iblis, he also remembers Aikaterine.
"Don't worry about me, Rönne. Take the elevator and run as fast as you can!"
"I'm giving you the opportunity to flee! I'm already cooked..."
"I'm not doing this for the glory. I'm doing this to give you a chance to get out of here with Mr. Hazbin and fight another day. Please, Rönne. Do this for me."
"Promise me one thing, Rönne. When the time will come: finish this fight...and let our sacrifices since the Limbo's fall not to be vain."
*KAABOM*
"♪ Huh, I never thought you would come here, hmm yes. ♪"
Instinct took its course, and Rönne's hand instinctively reached for his revolver, but he paused, recognizing the familiar voice. He slowly lowered his weapon as he turned his attention to the source of the voice.
Marquise Phenex Goetia herself emerged from the shadows, her demonic form exuding an air of confidence and mischief. She walked towards Rönne with a seductive sway, a smile playing on her beak.
"♪ Well-well, darling. You didn't change much. ♪" Phenex purred, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "♪ It was about time we caught up, don't you think? ♪"
"Uhuh...right." Rönne's gaze remained fixed on Phenex, his eyes narrowing slightly at her playful demeanor. "So what's with your scheming this time, Marquise Phenex?"
"♪ Ooh, quite a lot of things, my sweet Rönne. ♪" Phenex chuckled, her seductive sway bringing her closer to him. "♪ So many things I have on my mind. ♪"
"You always have, Phenex," Rönne replied, skepticism evident. He crossed his arms, maintaining a cautious distance between himself and Phenex. The Exorcist of Heaven knew all too well the allure of her words and the danger that came with trusting her. He refused to let his guard down.
"♪ Oh, my dear Rönne, you wound me with your lack of faith." Phenex's mischievous smile widened. She purred once more, her voice filled with a playful, melodious tone. "♪ I assure you, this is not a game but an opportunity. An opportunity for us to join forces once again, just like the good old days."
"I find that hard to believe." Rönne arched an eyebrow, his skepticism deepening. "And cut this flirtatious crap, Phenex. You know it won't work this time."
"♪ Oh, don't be such a sourpuss, sweetheart. ♪" Phenex's playful demeanor faded immediately, her eyes narrowing with a sense of annoyance. "♪ You remind me of my great-niece. Try to be at least cheerful every now and then. At least give me a hug or something. ♪"
"NO!" Rönne immediately stepped back. He shook his head vigorously. "No, stay away from me. No more of your soul-crushing hugs!" He held up a warning talon, keeping Phenex at a distance.
"♪ That was one time! It's not like I meant to crush you. ♪" Phenex titled her head slightly and made a sad-puppy face. "♪ Come on, do it for me...please. ♪"
Rönne tried to hold himself strong, but he is wavering as Phenex makes her plea with a sad puppy face. He fought against the conflicting emotions within him, but ultimately, he gave up. He sighed heavily, realizing that Phenex's charm had a way of breaking through his defenses.
"Sweet Zadkiel, lady of Mercy...have mercy on me already." Rönne relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "Fine, Phenex, just this once."
With his guard lowered, Rönne stepped closer to Phenex, but the Marquise was the first to respond, slightly bending down to hug him. Rönne didn't respond back; instead, he just let her hug him.
"♪ Hands on my waist, mister. Do it properly, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex warned with a chuckle while she gently rubbed her feathers against his own feathers. Somehow, for a Sinner, he sure does have fluffy feathers like Goetias do.
With an annoyed grunt, Rönne hesitantly wrapped his arms around her waist. To her credit, she was holding herself back to not crush him, and he could feel the warmth and softness of her embrace.
"So, um...please let me go."
"♪ Shh, don't ruin the moment. ♪" Phenex hushed him.
"This is getting awkward for me."
"♪ Pff, you're not fun. ♪" Phenex sighed but honored his wish. She finally released him from her hug of death. Rönne once took a few steps away, his eyes meeting Phenex's for a moment.
"So..." Rönne began, wanting to break the awkwardness. "It's been like what? 4 years, huh?"
"♪ Time sure does fly quick, doesn't it? ♪" Phenex replied, her playful tone returning.
"Indeed." Rönne nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his beak. He nevertheless still wants to know. "So why the church? I believe there are better places than here."
"♪ It's the closest building from the Train Terminal for us to speak away from any Goetian or demon ears. Besides, it felt appropriate, considering how you and I met for the first time. This church once belonged to the Diabolical States, if you didn't notice. ♪" Phenex explained, wanting to ask now that he mentioned it. "♪ How is Maid of Orleans doing these days? ♪ "
"Fine, mostly now on the administrative side of the Order."
"♪ And you, darling? I assume you've been keeping busy? ♪"
"Work with Mother Eve more often than not. It's just that Eye of Providence has a special relationship with The Order of Exorcism. Sometimes they use us to do some dirty work, like in this instance."
"♪ Dirty work, huh? Sounds intriguing ♪." Phenex gleamed with curiosity as she listened to Rönne's response. "♪ Eve told me that you were reluctant to go here. I have to wonder... this city is special to you, isn't it?"
"Did Mother Eve also tell you that?" Rönne already knew what she meant.
"♪No, but your sad eyes already reveal the truth to me, and obviously, as you're an angel with a certain profession, I assume that you share the same story. ♪"
Rönne's gaze softened, his mind drifting back to that fateful night of the first purge. The memories weighed heavily on him.
"Yes, this city holds a special place in my memory," Rönne admitted, making a slight, noticeable noise of sorrow. "It was here, during the first purge, that I had my own first kill as an Exorcist...I remember the face of that sheepish sinner. He tried to punch my gut, but my armor only hurt his hand. Then he fell off his back as he pleaded with me to spare him. The thrust of my spear was enough to silence him once more, and forever this time. That day, I came back as a changed soul."
"♪ It changed you, and yet you continue to fight for something better. ♪" Phenex remarked, her tone thoughtful. "♪ There is a good question: Will you forgive yourself for the past you committed?"
Rönne considered Phenex's question. It was one he had wrestled with for a long time, battling his own guilt and self-doubt.
"I...I'm not sure. There are nights when I question if I can truly make amends for my past actions. But I keep trying and fighting in the hope that someday I can find that redemption....but what about you, Phenex? Are you trying to redeem yourself?"
"♪ That's why I've been helping you and Eve from the beginning, sweetheart. I may be a Goetian demon, but even I see it pretty clearly that going against Heaven is just suicide for all of us here in Hell. ♪"
"That still doesn't explain your motives, Phenex." Rönne again confronted her. "Ever since you rescued me and Mr. Hazbin with Marsella, you forced us to chase ghosts in Limbo."
"♪ And thanks to me. You found Moxxara and together we dealt a massive blow with Ars Bael's death. See that what is happening with Limbo shows that the old power of the Seven Deadly Sins is crumbling. ♪"
"You're not trying to overthrow the Ars Goetia, are you?" Rönne again showed distrust. It was true that Phenex's actions had played a significant role in their recent victories and the weakening of the Seven Deadly Sins' power. However, he still couldn't shake off his skepticism.
"♪ No. Ars Goetia as a whole can rot in the lake of fire for all I care, but that's not what's important right now. I assume our mutual first woman told you everything about Gaap? ♪"
"She said, you will explain it by yourself."
"♪ Ah, so she honored my wish. How cute. ♪" Phenex's mischievous smile widened before it drastically changed into one of concern. Her expression grew more serious as she met Rönne's gaze once more. "♪ But she was correct, as I... well, I...am in a little bit of a conflicted situation. I...need a favor from you as a friend to a friend. It's a big one, darling. ♪"
"Please don't tell me that I need to kill Paimon now." Rönne sighed, his voice cautious, yet there was a little bit of concern.
"♪ That's cute, but my request is nothing that drastically changes the power of Ars Goetia, Rönne ♪." Phenex took a deep breath. Her eyes focused on him. "♪ I know that Eye of Providence doesn't care for collateral damage during their operations, but I... well, there will be someone on that train when you will be dealing with Gaap, and I want you to not hurt her, not even to leave a scratch on her. ♪"
"Her?" Rönne demanded more than just a vague explanation.
"Yes..." Phenex reached for her own phone. She opened the gallery to find something before handing it over to Rönne. "♪ Her name is Octavia, and she is an owl Goetia; you will recognize her quite easily. ♪"
Rönne accepted the phone from Phenex and looked at the image displayed on the screen.
https://www.zerochan.net/Octavia+%28Helluva+Boss%29?p=2
A faint humming escaped his beak as Rönne looked at the image of Octavia displayed on the phone screen. He couldn't help but find her quite regal and majestic here. But he quickly composed himself, not wanting to reveal his momentary lapse to Phenex.
"So that's Octavia, huh?" Rönne remarked casually, handing the phone back to Phenex. "She certainly is...charming here. But why the concern for her specifically? Is she your daughter?"
"♪ Heh, I wish. ♪" Phenex chuckled, finding it adorable for the young crow to mistake Octavia for her daughter. "♪ No, Silly. She is my Great-Niece from my brother's line. ♪"
"Oh...my apologies for the assumption." Rönne's embarrassment colored his cheeks. "So... what is this all about? You wanted me here so that you could have told me not to hurt Octavia?"
"♪ You're correct. ♪" Phenex waved off his apology with a warm smile on her face. "♪ She may not be my daughter, but Octavia holds a special place in my heart, nonetheless. That's why I'm entrusting you with this request of mine. Please do not hurt her or even leave a scratch on her. Promise me, will you? ♪" Phenex laid her hand on his shoulder, showing how much it meant to her.
Rönne awkwardly removed his cowboy hat and stroked the Aikaterine's wing feather between his fingers. He could sense the genuine worry and love she held for Octavia, and it touched something deep within him; he couldn't help but draw parallels between him and her.
Phenex, too, would go to great lengths to keep her loved ones safe, even if it meant resorting to methods that were considered "dirty" or morally ambiguous. But unlike Rönne, Phenex didn't fail to protect the ones he loved...at least for now.
Rönne put his hat back on his head. He would carry the weight of his past mistakes, but he wouldn't let them define him. However, a thought crept into his mind, and he couldn't ignore the potential danger that Octavia posed. Rönne hesitated for a moment, but he had to say it.
"I have to ask you, Phenex. I doubt that Octavia is not capable. What if she poses a threat to me, and I have no choice but to defend myself for my own life?"
Phenex's expression hardened upon that mention. She understood the gravity of Rönne's question and the difficult situation it presented.
"♪ Then...you can immobilize her, Rönne. Just with something that won't make Octavia feel pain. ♪" Phenex reluctantly admitted.
Rönne's eyes darted down to the blessed rope hanging from his belt, a tool he had had since he was an Exorcist Knight of the Wrath Legion. It had the ability to temporarily bind and neutralize the supernatural or magical abilities of the demon who was tied up.
"I have this blessed rope, you know." Rönne revealed it, holding it up for her to see. "If it comes down to it, would it be acceptable to use this? It will immobilize her, but it won't cause any lasting damage... the worst will be her pride, and she might feel vulnerable...but I'm not much of a fan of tying someone up."
"♪ If it becomes necessary... ♪" Phenex conceded, her features tightening with a reluctant nod. "♪ But remember. Do what you must, but do not hurt her. ♪"
"Guess we settled it then." Rönne nodded. With a deep breath, he secured the blessed rope back onto his belt. "So, Mother Eve mentioned that you would guide me through my next steps."
"♪ Correct. ♪" Phenex nodded, her expression shifting to a more focused one. "♪ But before we begin, follow me to the bell tower of this church. ♪"
Rönne followed Phenex as they made their way to the bell tower. However, as they reached the entrance to the stairs, they were met with a disappointing sight: the stairs were broken and impassable.
"And here I wondered if there was anything that was in good condition in this City." Rönne sighed as he looked up at the broken stairs, already coming up with his strategy. "Well, climbing it is then."
Without hesitation, he began to climb, using his agility and strength to navigate the broken steps and gaps.
The steps of the stairs were completely gone in the middle section of the tower. He shifted, and with a deep breath, he pressed his palms against the rough stone wall, making him jump a bit to grip gaps.
He could feel the strain in his muscles and the sweat trickling down his forehead, but he pushed through. The wind whipped around him from the holes, and the sound of his own breathing filled his ears.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of climbing, Rönne reached the top of the bell tower. He took a moment to catch his breath, his gaze sweeping over the panoramic view of the city below.
Phenex watched the entire thing from below, admiring the view above. The sight of him scaling the wall still impressed her.
"♪ You never fail to surprise me. The endurance of yours is something, I must say. ♪"
"Yeah, well." Rönne breathed out. "It's part of our training. We must endure the fatigue and pressure, even in the worst cases."
"♪ And how long did you last before exhaustion? ♪"
"About 9 hours of nonstop sweat-producing training...why do you ask?"
"♪ Oh, nothing...just a female curiosity, that's all. ♪" Phenex chuckled sultrily at herself. His romantic partner must be the luckiest person if he has such prowess.
At the bell tower, Rönne took two more deep breaths before coming up with a plan. He swiftly tied one end of the rope to a sturdy beam at the top of the bell tower.
"I'll toss a rope down for you. Just grab onto it and I'll pull you up." Rönne called out, preparing to throw the rope down the broken staircase.
"♪ Such a gentleman you are but leave it to me. ♪"
In a swift motion, Phenex transformed into a majestic phoenix and soared into the air, navigating the broken staircase, and landed gracefully at the top. Rönne watched in surprise as she soared past him and reformed into her humanoid form.
"♪ Who needs ropes when you have wings? ♪" Phenex winked at him playfully.
"One word: show-off."
"♪ What can I say? I like to make an entrance. ♪"
"And it shows." Rönne couldn't help but smile, too. He looked down at the Train Terminal entrance. From the bell tower, they had a clear view of the area, allowing them to observe any potential activity. "I see now why you wanted me here."
"♪ Indeed, now take a note on the entrance. ♪"
Rönne's gloved hand brushed against the worn leather of his belt as he retrieved the iconic Exorcist's LED mask. Rönne's mask had already shown its age, with a lot of scratching, sturdiness, and noticeable crack lines. He carefully secured the mask to his face, the LED lights illuminating the area around his eyes. From his perspective, he zoomed in on the entrance of the train Terminal.
"Hm, the security is pretty tight." Rönne left his thoughts out.
"♪ Of course, the Princess herself will be coming here. She - ♪" Phenex stopped herself as she noticed something on his mask. "♪ Did you seriously keep the burn mark in the shape of a heart I left on your mask? ♪"
"It's uhh..." Rönne's LED eyes made two blinking animations. "Well, it's very difficult to erase the burn mark from the mask, and...I was told it looked cute on me."
"♪ Well, who am I to argue with such compliments! ♪" Phenex burst into laughter, unable to contain her amusement at Rönne's resonating. "♪ Just be honest with me, darling. You DO like me, after all. ♪"
"I...well, no, but-just shut up, demon!" Rönne didn't dignify it with a response, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks beneath the mask.
Phenex playfully nudged him with her elbow. "Don't worry, I like you too...burn marks and all, hmm yes."
"Enough with your jokes!" Rönne quickly brushed off her comment, preferring to stay focused on the task at hand. He returned his eye view to the Train Terminal entrance, his LED eyes narrowing as he assessed the tight security in place. Snipers, guards, and numerous Legionaries from both the Wrath and Ars Goetia factions made it clear that this was a high-priority area.
"A straightforward approach won't work here."
"♪ Who said you should even be bothered by a straightforward plan? See for yourself, darling. ♪” Phenex gestured for Rönne to direct his attention to the left side of the Train Terminal. Rönne followed her finger and noticed a dry dock with some boats. “♪ And now look up a bit from the dock. ♪”
Rönne did so and saw the island at Acheron Coast with the big bridge that connected the island to the rest of the city.
“♪ That’s where the Train Depot is located…with the train being prepared for Limbo. While the main terminal is heavily guarded, the train just has some workers. You can take advantage of it in a more unconventional approach, wouldn't you say? ♪" Phenex hinted, a smirk playing on her beak.
"I see what you're getting at," Rönne slowly nodded, removing his mask from his face. "Why go forward when there is an alternative path with less resistance...but I assume the Acheron River is an acid-polluted hellhole for me to swim through?"
"♪ And you're correct. ♪" Phenex nodded with slight admiration. "♪ See, darling? You can be smart too sometimes. ♪"
"Being here with you already shows my stupidity." Rönne grumbled back at her.
Phenex chuckled at Rönne's grumbling response, finding his banter quite entertaining. She didn't take offense and instead leaned closer to him. "♪ Ah, but you wouldn't want to miss out on the opportunity to witness my brilliance, would you? Don't think I haven't come up with a plan to get you on that island. ♪"
"Which is?"
"♪ Simple: meet me at the docks. ♪"
But before he could even ask, The Great Marquise suddenly transformed into her majestic phoenix form and took off into the sky, leaving Rönne standing there, slightly annoyed and bewildered by this action.
"Seriously! Just like that, huh?!" Rönne complained to himself, frustration evident in his voice. He rubbed his face with his gloved hand. "The more I deal with her, the more I'll start quoting that raven from Edgar Allan Poe's poem....nevermore of your fucking bullshit, Phenex."
With nothing left but his complaints, Rönne jumped out from the bell tower and left the church to make his way towards the docks, passing a couple of streets and blocks of the city. In one moment, he waited at the pedestrian crossing, his thoughts still lingering on Phenex's sudden departure. He glanced at his watch, making sure there is time for him to catch the train in the depot.
Finally, the light turned green, and Rönne stepped off the curb to cross the road.
*Tire screeching.*
"Huh?" Just as Rönne began to make his way across the road, he heard the screeching of tires and the sound of engines growing closer...and closer. Instinctively, he turned his head to the left, only to see a black van speeding down the road directly towards him.
Time seemed to slow down as panic surged through Rönne's veins. His heart pounded in his chest as he frantically searched for an escape route, but there was no time to react. In a split second, Rönne made a quick decision. He leaped away to the side, trying to get out of the van's path.
The vehicle whizzed past him, the rush of air grazing his body. Breathing heavily, Rönne turned to watch as the black van sped away, disappearing into the distance.
"Even in Hell, you must obey your traffic rules, you fucking demons!" Rönne shouted angrily at the van. He shook his head, annoyed at the driver's recklessness.
The Imp Driver poked his arm out of that van and just gave a middle finger to the crow demon, not bothering with the sinner's complaints. Turns out, inside the van, Three Imps and one Hellhound were present. Moxxie, Millie and Loona are wearing the clothing that they used during the time they accompanied Stolas at the Harvest moon, with additional shoulder pads, backpacks, and a couple of satchels. For what it's worth, it's hard to tell what type of Ring Limbo is...but repercussions were made by Blitzø himself that his boy and two girls are ready.
"Can you believe these pedestrians, Mox?! Always in the way!" Blitzø complained, his voice laced with annoyance.
"Uh, sir." Moxxie glanced over at Blitzø and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "You do realize that he was crossing the street on a green light, right? It was you who passed the red light."
"And you do realize my foot will be up your ass so hard any second now if you don't shut up right now!"
Moxxie sighed and shook his head at Blitzø's response, crossing his own arms.
"Don't mind him...it's his way of worrying for us." Millie smiled warmly, her voice still a little bit raspy from her recent sickness, but she is slowly recovering.
"Yeah, I know. He just has a funny way of expressing it, that's all." Moxxie's expression grew troubled, his brows furrowing. There was a lingering unease in his eyes that Millie couldn't ignore.
"You've been like this ever since we visited the hospital...are you okay, Mox?" Millie placed a comforting hand on his arm.
"It's me who must ask this question, Mils. You did vomit, after all."
"Oh, please. I will be fine. Doctor said that it's just nausea and it will pass away...I'm concerned about you. Is something bothering you?"
"It's my father. You know I don't trust him, Millie. I never have." Moxxie sighed, his gaze turning distant. "When he makes a deal, there is always a catch somewhere tugged deep. It's just... I can't shake this feeling that he has ulterior motives, especially with this agreement between us... it feels like there's more to it than meets the eye."
"Who cares, Mox?" Blitzø intervened. "We will be getting the sweet taste of 1,750,000 souls very soon!"
"So you say, sir..." Moxxie's usual wit seemed to fail him in that moment, and he responded with a nonsensical mumble, his troubled expression deepening. Millie noticed his unease and pressed further.
"Moxxie, you're not being fully truthful with us. What's really bothering you? We're a family, remember? You can trust us."
Moxxie remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on a distant point.
"Remember I told you about my mother?" He let out a heavy sigh. "The more I think about her, the more I realize that I don't remember her at all. It's like she's just a blurred memory in the back of my mind. And then this thought came to me...knowing my dad and the way he behaved rather strangely when I asked why it mattered to him...it made me wonder: what if that Legatus Moxxara we're supposed to capture...is actually my own mother?"
A hush fell over the van as his words hung in the air. Millie's eyes slightly widened in surprise; Loona actually took her attention away from her phone...but back to it just after a few seconds. Even Blitzø's own demeanor softened as he absorbed Mox's words.
"Mox, I..." Millie began, but her voice trailed off as she realized a discrepancy in Moxxie's revelation. She knew it would disappoint him, but she preferred that Moxxie knew it. "To my own knowledge of Wrath's history and what my father told me...Moxxara never had children."
"But it can't be a coincidence that I and she share nearly the same name!" Moxxie tried to justify it. "Why does my father seem to be hiding something about her? Think, Millie. It might be her!"
"My best guess is that, as It's an old custom to name your own child after the famous Legatus, your dad just...honored her." Millie again had to correct Moxxie....even though she didn't like it.
"Secret affair, perhaps?" Blizo snickered, invading their conversation. "Maybe your daddy had another woman in his life to make him feel warm while your mommy wasn't looking."
"Very funny, sir," Moxxie hissed in response to Blitzø's joke, clearly not finding any amusement in it. He grew even more troubled as he contemplated the possibility of his father's secrets and hidden affairs.
"Fine, Mox. What do you want me to say, huh?" Blitzø let out a frustrated sigh, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of harshness. "Face it, already. Your own momma is dead, and clinging onto hope won't change that."
"You're such an asshole, sir!" Moxxie's face contorted with anger, hurt by this accusation. "You don't understand what it's like to have unanswered questions about your own mother!"
"You think I don't know what it's like!?" Blitzø's expression hardened, and his voice also showed bitterness. "My mom died a long time ago, and I've come to terms with it. So please, SHUT THE FUCK UP, MOXXIE!"
"Boys, enough with the shouting!" Millie interjected, making two of them stop for a second round.
A tense silence filled the van after that. Moxxie took a deep breath, his anger giving way to frustration.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, M. Sorry for busting your nuts, Mox." Blitzø's shoulders slumped a bit. "Just be realistic and...don't believe in that hope bullshit."
Moxxie remained silent. He didn't feel the need to respond to Blitzø's dismissive remark. While his boss may have had his own way of dealing with the world, Moxxie saw it in a whole different way.
“I understand, sir.”
“Of course you do, Mox.” Blitzø sighed as he maneuvered their vehicle with his usual reckless abandon as the van approached the Train Terminal. He swerved in front of another imp who had been eyeing the last available parking spot, effectively cutting him off and leaving the imp cursing in frustration. Ignoring the imp's protests, Blitzø skillfully managed to park the van, or rather, clumsily wedged it into two parking spaces.
"Can't you ever park properly, sir? It's not that difficult." Moxxie sighed, shaking his head at Blitzø's blatant disregard for common courtesy.
"Where's the fun in that, Mox?" Blitzø turned off the engines and slammed his head against the pillow, sighing to himself. "So... are you sure you're prepared, Loonie?"
"Prepared for what?" Loona glanced up from her phone with a slight growl. "Your questionable parking skills or the upcoming adventure in Limbo?"
Blitzø chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "Just saying, it's going to be one heaven of a ride for the three of you."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Loona rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by Blitzø's worry. "Protect Tavi, capture Moxxara. Just another day for us, I suppose."
"We've been through tough missions before...but still fucking concerning." Moxxie commented, his focus now shifting from his internal musings to the task at hand. He rechecked if his Carmine-Crafted Blessing-Tipped Rifle was loaded with bullets.
"Remember our summer picnic contract, Mox?" Millie stepped out of the van first, adjusting her shoulder pads and double-checking her gear. "Think of it but far more extended. We will get the job done as long as you have my back and I have yours."
Blitzø also stepped out of the van, stretching his limbs and cracking his knuckles. "Alright, team. Let's show Ring of Limbo what the I.M.P. Gang can do! To the train terminal, boys and girls!"
Together, the team made their way towards the Train Terminal. They may have had their differences and quirks, but when it came to their mission, they were a force to be reckoned with.
As the I.M.P. team entered the Train Terminal, they found themselves in a vast, bustling space filled with demons of all shapes and sizes. Inside the terminal, a maze of ticket counters, waiting areas, and shops stretched out before them. Travelers hurriedly made their way to their designated platforms, lugging suitcases and bags behind them. Overhead, the departure and arrival boards flickered with information, displaying the schedules of various trains.
As the team made their way through the throng of demons, a security checkpoint came into view. Guarded by a towering demon, the checkpoint served as the final barrier before accessing the train platforms.
"Whoa, there, A-Team. What's with the small army you've got here?" The guard asked.
"Going for a birthday party. The Heaven you think, pal!" Blitzø, being Blitzø, couldn't resist it.
"We are here for the contract of protecting Marquise Octavia, sir." Moxxie quickly fixed Blitzø's nonsense.
"And you would be Moxxie Knolastname, right?" The guard's eyes narrowed as he focused on Moxxie before he wrote it down on his clipboard. "Some kind of Pimp-striped dude called "Crimson" told you to pass freely with your weapons. Go to the Number 9 platform."
"Will Number 9 have an extra dip for us?"
"And why it matters-oh, I see what you did here, clever." The guard left a smirk for once, but once more he got serious. "But enough of your jokes; move along."
And with that, I.M.P. made their way through the security checkpoint; they followed the guard's directions towards the Number 9 platform.
Finally, they will reach Platform Number 9's stairway entrance, which is guarded by what seems to be Ars Goetian guards with avian-like armor, blocking the path with their straight-line formation. Though once I.M.P. came closer, some of them moved away to allow them to pass through, and some gave Loona a cautious look...how typical of Ars Goetia.
They ascended the stairs, entering the platform area. The platform itself was barely crowded. Goetias like Vassago, Astaroth, and Gaap, with the young bird, were completely focused on his phone. Striker lay down on the bench, sharpening the wood with the knife to kill boredom.
Crimson stood in conversation with another impeccably dressed imp. The two of them seemed engaged in a serious discussion...or scheming.
"Assuming that the Ragnatela Crime family won't go up in flames anytime soon, there's no chance for us to establish a base of operation in Pentagram," Crimson said, his voice calm as he puffed on his cigarette.
"That's Lucifer's turf. It's a bit risky to agitate the King of Pride." The other imp responded.
"As if the mighty Imperator cares. Our orders from Inculta are clear: once that degenerate woman is captured and brought to Triumph, someone must take on the task of expanding our operations into the Pride Ring." Crimson once coldly stated. He glanced up to see his own son and his son’s boss arriving. "Gotta go. My son is here, but I will report to Vulps Inculta later. True to Satan."
"True To Satan." The other imp returned before leaving Crimson. On his way, he made one quick glance at Moxxie before just leaving the platform with no word.
Crimson finished his cigar and tossed it away, now focusing on his son.
"Ahh, what a grand day today for you, Mox." Crimson expressed pride and amusement as he approached Moxxie. "Some would envy what you will be doing in Limbo."
"Yeah, sure, grand," Moxxie replied, his voice tinged with a hint of skepticism. "When would you stop with your own bullshit, dad?"
"Don't argue...Mox." Crimson saw that Moxxie is not interested in his games, hence his straightforward threat to his son. But he then glanced at Blitzø. "So, everything is ready on your part, Mr. Blitz?"
"Look at them and say they don't look like they are ready for Judgement Day."
"Still not enough for Limbo, but that's your problem." Crimson sighed before pointing at another Legionnaire Imp sitting near the table and writing down something. "All that is left is for you to report to that Imp for evaluation. It is just for Satan's Legion to know who they will be dealing with."
Moxxie's skepticism deepened. However, he pushed those emotions aside and listened to his father's instructions. The trio would come to the Legionnaire Imp, who beckoned them over. He had a stern expression, his pen poised above a clipboard.
"Ah, so you must be Octavia's bodyguards. In Satan's name, I welcome you all to the double hell that is the Ring of Limbo. My question is simple: How tough are you for Limbo?" The Legionnaire Imp said in a deep, gruff voice, keeping up the tough-guy act.
Loona rolled her eyes but played along. "I ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast."
"Yeah...so?" The Imp Legionnaire didn't buy that.
"Without any milk..."
"Passed; welcome aboard, Hound." The Imp waved Loona off to step aside. "Next!"
And next was Millie, skipping towards the Imp Legionnaire.
"Welcome to the Ring of Limbo, my sister in Satan and Imperious. How tough are you?" The Imp Legionnaire asked, his voice gruff and authoritative.
"HOW TOUGH AM I?" Millie exclaimed. She swiftly reached out and grabbed the Imp's arm, expertly ripping a tattoo of the word "Mom" inside a heart and slapping it back onto his arm, upside down.
"Wow." Moxxie whispered to himself, impressed by Millie's strength...not to mention the Legionnaire's tattoo says "wow" from now on.
The Imp stared in disbelief, his mouth agape. The Legionnaire Imp, momentarily stunned, blinked a few times before regaining his composure.
"Got any more tattoos, skirt boy?" Millie dared.
"Nah, that won't be necessary!" Imp Legionnaire protested. "You passed!"
"Thanks, ignite the floor, dear!" Millie encouraged Moxxie before skipping herself back to the group with Crimson.
Moxxie swallowed nervously as he approached the Imp Legionnaire, his nerves getting the best of him. The Legionnaire Imp stared at him, his gaze piercing and unyielding.
"So, Moxxie Knolastname," the Legionnaire Imp said, his tone dripping with skepticism. "How tough are you for Limbo?"
Moxxie took a deep breath, gathering his courage. He knew he had to prove himself, not only to the Legionnaire Imp but also to his team and, perhaps most importantly, to himself.
"How tough am I, huh?" Moxxie sounded cocky...or tried to be. "Got any bottles of ketchup?"
The Imp Legionnaire raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from skepticism to confusion. But he reached into a small bag he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a bottle of ketchup.
"Um, sure." He handed it to Moxxie.
"IT'S ON!" Moxxie exclaimed confidently, gripping his fingers on the bottle cap and beginning to twist it hard. But as he tried to unscrew the cap, he quickly realized that it was much tighter than he anticipated. His confident grin turned into a strained expression, his brow furrowing with exertion. With each twist, Moxxie's struggle grew; beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he wrestled with the stubborn ketchup bottle.
"Come on...you can do this, Mox!" Millie encouraged. Of the rest, only Moxxie's wife was supportive...Loona filmed it entirely with her phone, and Blizto held himself back from laughing.
"Just a little...more...oomph!" Moxxie muttered under his breath, his face turning red from the effort. "AAAAAAAAAAARGH!"
"Oh, Satan...please just end me." Crimson covered his face in embarrassment. Even Striker himself stopped and watched that struggle with amusement. Little Fella is something, alright.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to loosen the cap, but in his excitement, he lost his grip, and the ketchup bottle slipped from his hands, splattering its contents all over him.
"Oh, come on!" Moxxie complained, dropping his hands in the air.
The Imp Legionnaire supported his head with his arm as he stared at Moxxie's entire struggle. After that freckled imp was done, he would sigh at himself. He has seen everything.
"I'm surprised we didn't make you a Legatus of the Legion already with that strength of yours. But since your father paid us, you automatically pass...might as well become meat for Buzzards."
"I...uh...thanks," Moxxie mumbled; his face turned beet red as he stood there, drenched in ketchup and feeling utterly defeated. The Imp Legionnaire's remark didn't help his already bruised ego.
He quickly made his way back to the group, hoping to hide his ketchup-stained shame.
"Nice show, fatty," Loona teased, trying to suppress her own amusement.
"And now we know you're skilled in the art of ketchup warfare, Moxxie." Blitzø chimed in, joining in with Loona's mockery.
"Shut up, both of you." Moxxie didn't want to hear any of Loona's or Blitzø's own bullshit.
"Hey, don't worry about it, babe. We all have our moments," Millie said, stepping forward and patting Moxxie on the back.
Crimson Knolastname just left a grumble and went towards Vassago and Astaroth, wanting to stay away from his son as far as possible. The Duke-Elector has nearly finished his phone conversation about threatening someone.
"I don't care if you answer only to Phenex, Marchosias! I know your own kind loves to shit in the corners of your rooms, so please make sure to tidy your castle before the Princess of Inferno finds the disgusting filth you have! Otherwise, I will skin your pelt and wear it proudly to the end of days! Behave, you mongrel mutt!"
Astaroth ended the call and turned around to Vassago, wanting to complain more. "You won't believe this, Vassago. Fucking Marchosias wanted to set an expedition for the tombs of the "Vicars," or whatever he calls them, at the same time as the Princess would have arrived at his castle...fucking Hellhounds."
"Don‘t let it ruffle up your feathers more than you have to, Astaroth. Phenex also takes too long with her "toilet" problem." Vassago sighed; unlike Astaroth, he kept his opinions to himself. "We have enough shit now that the syncretism is about to be finished between the Kings of Goetia."
Crimson would come closer, not bothering to watch his step with Ars Goetia, like him, they all answer to Satan. "So, my Electors. When will Mr. Big Man himself come?"
"Who knows? I assume you know how big the CEO pawns of Mammon are like, Frumentario Crimson." Astaroth scoffed, his disdain for Mammon evident in his voice. "Those greedy bastards are always keeping everyone waiting. They think they're the top dogs just because they handle the big money."
"Sounds like Leviathan's talking point, not to mention Envy." Crimson smirked.
"Envy? Oh, please. We are Ars Goetia, the ancient royalty of Hell. But even I can't stand those corporate types. They always think they're better than everyone else just because they have some money."
In the meantime, Moxxie tried his best to shake off the embarrassment of his ketchup incident. But he heard that his dad was gossiping about Since he stayed a bit far away from Blitzø and Loona while Millie took a rest on the bench; he instead mingled near Crimson, but he kept his distance. Striker noticed that too, but he remained silent for himself. When Moxxie passed him, he decided to ask.
"If you wonder what they're talking about, little fella, there will be a major player in the Greed Ring joining us in Limbo."
"And who are they talking about?" Moxxie glanced at Striker, still distrustful of him.
"Word has it that these nobles over there signed a contract for our little bird fella for additional protection. And guess what? It's a PMC."
"Oh, Satan, give me strength...." Moxxie sighed; red flags had already risen. "The last thing we need is a PMC here."
"I agree with you." Striker leaned back on the bench, twirling his knife absentmindedly. "These guys will be on my first page of the "Who will stab me in the back today," book."
"And where would Blitzø, Millie, and I be?"
"Page five..four if I feel good." Striker looked at Moxxie for a second with a grin before he went back to sharpening the wood with the knife. After the two sharp movements, Striker would glance once more at him, noticing the weapon on his back. "Well, well. Fancy seeing my old carbine with you."
"It's a fine weapon. I thought it would be useful to have for our adventure in Limbo." Moxxie's eyes narrowed as he looked at Striker. Carefully, he turned his attention forward, still keeping a watchful eye on the tall Imp. "There won't be a problem, will there?"
"Pff, you can keep it for yourself, little fella." Striker chuckled softly, stopping his knife-sharpening motion. "That weapon is a piece of garbage anyway. I'm more of a...revolver gunslinger myself."
"Then how did you get that gun in the first place?" Moxxie brought his carbine into his hands, checking the frame of it. It's strange that Striker finds it a piece of trash, even though it's a pretty powerful carbine.
"Borrowed it from an “old friend” of mine." Striker's smirk widened, making sure that Moxxie saw his one eye from an angle. "But If it will help you babysit our two Goetias and get us closer to that rogue Legatus, then consider this carbine a symbol of our new partnership...partner."
Moxxie's unease grew, and his suspicions about Striker deepened. But for now, he decided to accept the gift, albeit cautiously.
"Thanks, I guess." Moxxie holstered the carbine on his back, still rather leery of Striker. "But let's make one thing clear, Striker. Once this is over, we go our separate ways."
Striker chuckled, seemingly unfazed by Moxxie's response. He leaned back on the bench, crossing his arms over his chest. "We'll see about that, little fella. You'll be singing a different tune by the time we're done with Limbo."
"Guess we'll find out...Striker." Moxxie's eyes narrowed before he walked away from the tall cowboy; he refused to let Striker's words sway him.
Blitzø and Millie were engaged in casual banter, while Loona, as usual, was busy texting someone. As Moxxie returned to them, Blitzø couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"Hey there, Ketchup King! How was your talk with that Lizard?"
"As you might expect, sir." Moxxie sighed. He glanced over at Striker, who was now busy cleaning his knife. He couldn't deny the lingering sense of distrust, but for now, he would keep an eye on him while focusing on the bigger picture. "But there is one big problem. Striker mentioned that there will be a PMC joining us on the train...and I'm afraid I know who."
"Oh, Great...just what we needed." Blitzø slapped his face...also can think of who it might be.
"Who, hon?" Millie wanted to know.
Moxxie hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should share his suspicions with the rest of the team. But he decided it was best to be transparent with Millie.
"Militech International Armaments...Greed's third biggest corporation ever, hon."
"It's the second-biggest corporation, young man."
Another voice boomed from the entrance of the platform, capturing everyone's attention. An old imp in his 60s had arrived, flanked by a group of heavily armed mercenaries. Judging by the elegant suit, his presence exuded authority and corporate arrogance.
"Militech prides itself on being the second most powerful corporation in Hell, right after the G.R.E.E.D. corporation." The old imp finished his sentence, using a napkin to wipe the sweat from his head. "And we try to move forward with Lord Mammon..."
Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, and Loona exchanged uneasy glances. Some are confused, while Moxxie tenses.
"Who the hell are you?" Blitzø impatiently asked.
The old imp's gaze fell upon Hell's most efficient assassins, his eyes narrowing with disdain and curiosity. He studied them for a moment, as if assessing their stock value.
"I could ask the same question to you, young imp. But I suppose introductions are in order. I am Donny Lundee, the CEO of Militech International Armaments. We specialize in weapons manufacturing and private military contracting for the Infernal government."
"Never heard of you." Blitzø narrowed his eyes, his grin turning into a scowl.
Donny's grin widened, and he let out an arrogant chuckle. He turned to one of his employees, a well-dressed imp standing nearby, and gestured for them to retrieve something. The imp quickly handed Blitzø a sleek brochure emblazoned with the Militech logo.
"Here, imp," Donny said, his voice dripping with superiority. "Take a look at this. It might help educate you a bit."
"I don't need your stupid brochures, pal." Blitzø snatched the brochure and gave it to Moxxie, as he is more into details. "Do you know who you're fucking with?"
"I assume a bunch of low-level mercenaries trying to play in the big leagues."
"We are the Immediate Motherfucking Professionals and we don't need your validation, Mr. CEO man."
"Ah, and so you must be Blitzø Buckzo then." Donny chuckled, “Oh, how amusing. A clown reject thought of becoming a mercenary assassin. Well, I suppose I can't blame you for trying. Still, I wonder...Militech is interested in expanding their services for Earth's operations. How much are you willing to sell your I.M.P. shares to us?"
"Not a dime." Blitzø hissed back at him, even finding it baffling that he was insulted and then immediately got an offer to sell out his company. "Go fuck yourself, you corporate ass piece of shit."
"You heard him, imp fuck." Millie joined Blitzø's side, already unsheathing her knife.
Donny's grin only grew wider, seemingly unfazed by Blitzø's and Millie's defiant responses. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the duo with amusement.
"Well, well, it seems I've struck a nerve. But I'm afraid you misunderstand, my I.M.P." Donny flicked his fingers, commanding one of the Imp mercenaries to hand him something, which he did. "Do you know what it is?"
"Asmodean Crystal." Blitzø begrudgingly grunted.
"Powerful crystals, after all." Donny admired the crystal before looking into Blitzø's eyes. "Militech has its sights set on expanding its influence, and we prefer to have allies rather than adversaries in the Earth Assassination business. But it seems you've made your stance clear to us. So be it, then. Enjoy your little business venture, Immediate Murder Professionals. But remember, in the grand corporate authority of the Greed Ring, you're nothing more than insignificant pests."
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Donny turned on his heels towards Duke Astaroth and Crimson, his entourage of mercenaries following suit. At least one particular Militech grunt pushed Millie away from his path, muttering "bitch" under his breather mask. Millie growled back but had to stand her ground, as these Militech boys are equipped with top-tier automatic cursed "Militech Mk IV Assault Weapons."
Moxxie still read the brochure, wondering who they are dealing with.
Welcome to Militech International Armaments
"Where Power Meets Destruction"
In the nightmare that is our Inferno, Militech International Armaments stands tall as a towering monolith of the Infernal Military Industrial Sector. We are the embodiment of the future, where profit and control reign supreme.
[The Rise of Militech]
Established in the heart of Mint City by blessed weapon researcher Anty Luccessi as Armatech-Luccessi International and following corporate restructuring, Militech has become an omnipotent force, shaping Hell to suit its insatiable greed. Our unwavering commitment to power and influence has turned us into the epitome of the corporate Greed Ring
[Unleashing Technological Terror]
At Militech, we pride ourselves on pioneering the most advanced weaponry Hell has ever seen. Our relentless pursuit of perfection knows no bounds, as we engineer a new era of destruction. From cutting-edge assault rifles to deadly tanks, our arsenal is the epitome of unyielding firepower. With our patented technology, we empower the ruthless, the influential, and the power-hungry to conquer and subjugate the enemies of Hell.
[Controlling the Battlefield]
On the battlegrounds of Limbo, Militech's dominance is unrivaled. Our elite soldiers, clad in state-of-the-art armor, are the harbingers of chaos and terror to our enemies. When the stakes are high, and power is the only currency that matters, Militech is the name whispered in fear.
[Join the Elite]
Do you crave power and control? Are you ready to leave your mark on the Inferno? Militech International Armaments invites you to join our elite ranks and become a harbinger of destruction and dominance.
At Militech, we seek individuals with ambition, unyielding loyalty, and a hunger for power. Join us, and you will be part of a force that shapes the very foundations of Inferno. Here's why you should choose Militech as your path to success:
- Cutting-Edge Training: As a Militech recruit, you will undergo intensive training programs designed to mold you into a formidable weapon. From combat tactics to advanced weaponry handling, our instructors will push your limits, ensuring you emerge as an elite soldier capable of executing the most dangerous missions.
- Technological Advancements: Militech is at the forefront of technological innovation. As a member of our team, you will have access to state-of-the-art weapons. Enhance your skills, improve your body, and become a force to be reckoned with.
- Global Reach: Militech's influence extends far beyond Mint City. We have a global network of operations, allowing our recruits to experience a Hell of opportunities. From espionage to covert operations, you will have the chance to make your mark on the international stage, spreading our influence wherever you go.
- Lucrative Contracts: Money talks, and at Militech, we pay top Souls for top talent. Join our ranks, and you'll be rewarded handsomely for your loyalty and dedication. From generous salaries to exclusive perks, we ensure that our recruits are well taken care of, while reinforcing our stranglehold on power.
- Unrivaled Power and Authority: As a Militech soldier, you will be at the forefront of the corporate machine, exerting control and enforcing our dominance. Your actions will shape the destiny of rings and determine the fate of individuals. Embrace the thrill of power and the exhilaration of victory as you rise through the ranks of Militech.
[How to Apply]
Joining Militech International Armaments is not for the faint-hearted. We seek only the most determined and capable individuals to join our ranks. If you believe you have what it takes, follow these steps to apply:
- Visit our state-of-the-art recruitment center located in the heart of Mint City. Experience the allure of our corporate stronghold and immerse yourself in the essence of Militech.
- Complete the comprehensive application form, detailing your skills, experience, and willingness to embrace the corporate Hell. Remember, hard work and dedication are highly valued traits.
- Undergo a series of rigorous assessments to evaluate your physical and mental capabilities. Only the strongest survive, and only the best will be granted the honor of donning the prestigious Militech uniform.
If selected, you will embark on a life-altering journey, a path paved with power, destruction, and dominance. Welcome to Militech International Armaments, where your ambition finds its true purpose.
Embrace Power, Join Militech Today!
"That screams Corporate dystopia," Moxxie muttered, offering it to Blitzø. "Looks like we finally met the big corporate league of Greed."
"Fuck them!" Blitzø snatched the brochure. Moxxie watched as Blitzø ripped apart the Militech brochure. He couldn't help but feel concerned about Blitzø's anger.
"I...hope you won't start a war with them, sir. They're a powerful corporation, and we don't want to get in over our heads."
"I know, Mox. I won't start a war, but still, they can go fuck themselves. We may be small compared to them, but we have something they don't."
"Which is?" Moxxie's expression softened as he listened to Blitzø's words.
"We have each other. I.M.P is like a family, not a soulless corporation driven by money and power....and I never plan to make us like them, Mox. As long as you're on my side, we can set this entire Hell on fire if needed."
"Oh...well, thank you, sir." Moxxie couldn't help but find Blitzø's words both charming and endearing. Sure, Blitzø could be harsh and mean-spirited at times, but there was no denying the bond they had formed over the years.
Moxxie had come to see Blitzø not just as a business partner but as a brother. And just like with any family, they had their disagreements and occasional bickering, but deep down, Moxxie knew that Blitzø would always have his back.
Always
Hell/The Pride Ring/Acheron City/The Docks
Rönne stood alone at the empty docks, frustration evident on his face. He had arrived on time, expecting to meet Phenex here as planned. But to his dismay, the flaming demoness was nowhere to be seen.
"It always with her, isn't it?" He let out a grumble, his impatience growing. Just as he was about to turn away to think of alternatives, he heard the distant rumble of a motor engine. His ears perked up, and he looked back towards the water, curiosity replacing his frustration.
Gradually, a small tugboat came into view, making its way towards the docks. Rönne squinted, trying to get a better look at the figure piloting the boat. As it drew nearer, he could see a sinner clad in black robes, their features obscured. But what caught his attention the most was Phenex, perched on the tip of the boat in her magnificent Phoenix form.
The small tugboat came to a halt near the docks, and the robed sinner shut off the engine. Phenex gracefully hopped off the boat and transformed back into her humanoid form.
"♪ Sorry for the delay, my dear. ♪" Phenex said, her voice dripping with playfulness. "♪ I couldn't resist arriving in style. What do you think? ♪"
"Charming...to say the least." Rönne said it blandly before glancing at the robed figure. "Who is this?"
Ironically, Phenex chuckled at this before she turned herself to the ferryman. "Looks like even Sinners have forgotten you, Charon."
"Wait, what?" Rönne's eyebrows shot up in surprise as Phenex addressed the robed figure as Charon.
Charon, the ferryman, lifted his head slightly, his features still hidden beneath the hood of his black robes. A raspy voice emerged from within.
"What do you want from me? You all fucking drop from the skies these days...I lost my job thanks to your modern-day bullshit technologies."
"♪ Oh, don't be a grumpy sourpuss, Charon. " Phenex waved him off. "♪ Just help my friend get to that island. ♪"
"I'm not in the business of transporting Sinners for 1992 years. Why should I waste my time with that angsty teenager?"
"HEY!"
"Just saying, Sinner." Charon shrugged...what else should he say?
In this case, Phenex summoned two bags of souls and tossed them at Charon. The Ferrymen easily caught the bag, opening it to check how much it was filled with coins.
"Fine," Charon finally relented. "Consider it a temporary favor, Phenex. I'll take your friend to the island, but don't expect this to become a regular occurrence."
And so, Phenex looked at Rönne and gestured for him to freely get himself on Charon's little tugboat.
"You're not coming?"
"♪ Oh, no. My Great-Niece and the Princess of Hell are about to arrive in Acheron, so I needed to go elsewhere. ♪"
"So, it's a goodbye then, I see." Rönne nodded, releasing a breath to gather his strength. "Well, thank you for everything, Phenex."
"♪ You're welcome." Phenex smiled warmly, genuine in her tone. "And remember the promise you made. I hope to see you soon. ♪"
With a final wave, Phenex turned away and walked towards the edge of the dock. She raised her arms, and flames engulfed her, consuming her form until she transformed into a magnificent phoenix once again. With a powerful beat of her fiery wings, she took off into the sky, leaving a trail of sparks in her wake.
Rönne watched as Phenex disappeared into the distance. He then turned to Charon, who had been observing the exchange silently.
"So...Ferryman of the Dead, huh?"
"Used to be..." Charon grumbled.
"Limbo?" Rönne assumed that was the reason he lost his job.
"Limbo..." Charon nodded. "Stop wasting my time and get in already...I don't have my oar anymore to beat the shit out of you, Sinner."
"Alright-alright, Jesus Christ!" Rönne showed his palms. Realizing that Charon was not one for small talk, he stepped onto the small tugboat and took a seat on it.
Charon ignited the engines of the boat and set it off from the docks. The boat sailed on, the only sound being the rhythmic churning of the engine and the gentle lapping of water against the hull.
Rönne stared into the distance, his gaze fixed on the horizon. With each passing moment, the island drew closer, its silhouette emerging from the mist like a specter in the night. But as the boat sailed through the mist, Rönne's curiosity got the better of him, and he cleared his throat before speaking.
"If you don't mind me asking, is it true that Dante actually visited the Nine Rings of Hell?" Rönne's voice held a hint of skepticism.
Charon glanced at Rönne from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. After a moment's pause, he let out a deep, raspy chuckle.
"You mean that moron Dante? Yes, he did visit the Nine Rings of Hell after he died...the King of Pride decided to let his fictionalized version of it in his literary work become reality.
"Moron?" Rönne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't expected such a blunt response.
Charon let out another dry chuckle. "Imagine a person who bitches non-stop...that's what Dante was."
"I see," Rönne murmured. Well, that answers a centuries-long question.
The boat sailed on, the mist enveloping them as they sailed further. Eventually, as the boat neared the shores of the island, Rönne could see dark, foreboding structures rising up from the mist. Charon maneuvered the boat towards a worn-out dock, the creaking of the wood echoing in the silence.
"Thank you, ferryman." Rönne stepped off the boat. He turned to face Charon, grateful for the ferryman's assistance.
Charon grunted in response, his gaze fixed on the waters surrounding the dock. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging Rönne's words, before just sailing away, disappearing into the mist.
And with Charon gone, Rönne used the stairs to get himself up, approaching the train depot. He surveyed the area with a cautious eye. The perimeter was guarded by PMC soldiers, heavily armored and holding cursed weapons.
"Militech again? Why is Greed's PMC doing here?" Rönne whispered to himself, even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. Still, he needed to find a way to infiltrate the depot without being noticed.
He carefully assessed the surroundings. His eyes settled on a section of the fence that seemed to be slightly rusted and weakened. A potential entry point, but he needed to be swift and silent.
Taking a deep breath, Rönne made his move. He crouched low, approaching the weakened section while avoiding the patrols. Thankfully, now that it's evening and dark enough, it's far easier for him.
Arriving at the fence, he gripped the broken part of the fence and carefully moved in, just enough to squeeze through.
"Good. Now, I've got to find the dispatcher room for the specific train." Rönne muttered, wiping the dirt from his knees. Obviously, it's easier said than done, as the PMC is the biggest pain in his ass to get himself to the dispatcher's room unnoticed.
Seeing that there was already a good place, he lay prone under the line of railroad cars and crawled himself under it to avoid detection.
"I'm getting too old for this shit." Rönne muttered to himself as he crawled on his belly. The space beneath the cars was tight. He peered around, scanning for any signs of guards or surveillance systems. The dim lighting offered some help, casting shadows that Rönne used to his advantage.
As he crawled further, he caught a glimpse of two patrolling Militech soldiers. Rönne froze, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Fucking heaven, Killbane." Complained Militech Soldier with the tagname "Shmucks". "Great future with us," they said. "Earn some money," they said, and now we are in a fucking internship, sending us down to Limbo without any pay! I signed up for this thinking I'd be guarding a train depot, not stuck on the front lines in the middle of nowhere."
"Oh, quit your whining, Shmucks." Killbane let out a frustrated growl. "We're here to do a job, just like everyone else."
"Easy for you to say." Shmucks shot a glare at Killbane. "You don't have to deal with these long shifts and monotonous tasks. I swear, if I have to polish one more cursed weapon..."
Killbane crossed his arms, his impatience evident. "Look, I get it. This assignment isn't what we signed up for. But it's fucking better than being an inspector at Pride's Hell Elevator. So, suck it up and get the job done."
"You don't fucking understand, Killbane. We deserve better than this. My mother would be livid, seeing me from the halls of Imperious as I work for a low-wage job!" Shmucks let out an exasperated sigh.
"Your momma never liked you, Shmucks!"
"And your momma dropped you when you were dead; the heaven is your point?!" Shmucks complained before storming away. "Fuck this patrol piece of shit ass bullshit and let just Moxxara fuck me in the ass!"
"Shmucks, wait for me!" The other Militech soldier rushed after that short imp. Rönne could only shake his head.
"And my "momma" told me not to go bounty hunting..." Rönne muttered to himself as he waited until these two PMC soldiers were at a safe distance before inching forward.
Eventually, he would reach the end of the line of railroad cars, peeking to make sure the coast was clear. It was, and he crawled away to get himself up once more. Since there was a single warehouse-like building, there must have been a dispatcher room. Getting inside the warehouse was easy, but it turns out the warehouse's interior, full of railroad cars, was heavily guarded, with PMC soldiers stationed inside.
Looking around for an alternative route, Rönne spotted a ventilation duct that seemed to lead towards the dispatcher's room. It was a risky move, but he had no other choice. He climbed onto a nearby crate and maneuvered himself into the cramped space of the duct.
Finally, he reached a vent that overlooked the dispatcher's room. Peeking through the slits, he saw a single imp worker sitting on the control panel and announcing the important information.
"Is this idiot using nails again...fucking moron." The Imp worker complained, taking the coffee cup and sipping some refreshing coffee.
"Hmm..." Rönne carefully observed the imp worker, knowing that he needed to ensure their absence from the dispatcher room for a while. He pondered his options, considering how to create a situation that would prompt the imp worker to temporarily leave their post.
There is one idea he has; hence, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small vial containing a clear liquid, usually used to create poison. In this form, it's not lethal and won't kill that imp, but it has a rather extremely unpleasant taste.
"Okay, that might work."
Rönne uncorked the vial and carefully dropped a small droplet into the imp worker's coffee cup, with the substance dissolving into the coffee rather quickly. The Exorcist patiently watched as the imp worker stirred from their work, reaching out for the cup and taking a sip. Almost immediately, the imp worker's face contorted in disgust. They spat out the coffee.
"Ugh! What the Heaven is wrong with this coffee?" The imp worker exclaimed, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand. He quickly stood up and hurriedly exited the room to get a new one.
Seizing the opportunity, Rönne jumped out and moved towards the control panel, checking notes.
All Railroad Cars under Category A4 shall be thoughtfully examined for our monthly supply runs to New Limbo. Some high-ranking royal nutjobs will be using it for their travel, so make sure that train is fully prepared.
Any of your fuck-ups will be seen as me having an excuse to fire you all. So do your jobs!
Rönne carefully crouched and crawled to the window, checking if the Railroad cars under A4 were there, which they were. And lucky for him, there is an open, long, camouflaged Boxcar being examined to see if it's ready to go.
"Jackpot." Rönne smiled. Satisfied with the information he had gathered.
*Knob click*
The same imp worker returned, his eyes widening in shock as he caught sight of Rönne's presence inside.
"Hey, what in the Sata-"
Before the imp could even react or sound the alarm, Rönne launched himself towards the imp worker, delivering a precise punch to his throat, causing the imp to gasp for air, unable to make a sound. Before the worker could fully comprehend what was happening, The Exorcist followed up with a swift strike to the forehead, rendering him unconscious. The imp worker crumpled to the ground, his body slumping against the wall of the dispatcher's room.
"Be thankful it's not January 1st, Imp." Rönne whispered to that unconscious imp. He grabbed the body and hid it inside the closet. It will take some time for someone to find him, but he must immediately get himself inside that boxcar.
Checking that nobody was watching, he left the dispatcher room and moved himself through the dark spots, eventually getting himself to that opened boxcar....with two Imps blocking the path for Rönne as they performed maintenance by tightening the bolts on the railway tire.
"Won't get myself inside with these two on my way..." Rönne observed the two imp workers as he assessed the situation. He knew that he needed to create a diversion in order to slip inside the boxcar unnoticed.
The opportunity presented itself when he noticed a nearby switch that controlled the lights in the warehouse. He got himself closer to that switch and waited for the perfect moment. Then he opened the panel and removed a fuse box, plunging the entire warehouse into darkness. The sudden absence of light startled the imp workers, causing them to pause their work and look around in confusion.
"Damn it, I can't see a thing! What in heaven happened with the lights?"
"Must be the fuse box got fried...again!" Another worker complained as he got himself up on his feet. "Come on, let's check the switch."
As the imp workers stumbled about, trying to make sense of the sudden darkness, Rönne positioned himself behind a stack of crates near the boxcar. He observed the imp workers as they made their way towards the switch. The Exorcist silently slipped out of his hiding spot and approached the boxcar.
"Oh, amazing. One of the fuses is missing!" The imp worker checked the switch panel. "Tell Shonny to get us a new fuse."
But by the time these two would bring back the lights, Rönne had already slipped inside the boxcar. The compartment was dimly lit by a small overhead light, providing just enough visibility for him to see his surroundings.
"Well...mission accomplished." Rönne muttered to himself as he settled in behind some of the crates. He brought his phone from his pocket and quickly typed the message to Phenex that he had managed to get himself inside. Now all that's left is the waiting game. The train would soon be departing, as the locomotive is being moved slowly backwards to attach itself to the rest of the railroad cars, judging by the sounds of the locomotive's engines getting louder.
"Not the first-class voyage...good thing I brought some entertainment with me." He pulled out a book from his satchel called "No Country for Old Men" by Cormac McCarthy. Then his own LED mask, putting on and turning off the external LED motion blinking while keeping the "Night-mode" for him to see the letters...
Better than Drill Night Camps for sure...
Hell/The Pride Ring/Outskirts of Acheron City
Charlie relaxed her head against the window of the luxurious limousine, enjoying the quiet ride towards the Train Terminal. Her mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of the Happy Hotel and how her team would manage in her absence. She hoped that they would be able to handle things smoothly, but a small sliver of concern lingered within her.
As the limousine glided along the streets, Charlie noticed the presence of her companions. Vaggie sat beside her, focused on the road ahead, while Razzle fluttered around in the backseat. Octavia, Stolas, and Olivia were also present, each lost in their own thoughts.
Octavia had packed carefully for the journey, ensuring she had everything she needed. Stolas, on the other hand, couldn't help but worry, his paternal instincts getting the best of him.
Unable to contain his concerns any longer, Stolas tapped his talons together nervously. He glanced at Octavia several times. Finally, he gathered his courage and broke the silence.
"Did you make sure you have everything you need?"
Octavia let out an exasperated sigh, her annoyance evident in her voice. She shifted in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.
"This is the fifth time you're asking me, Dad. Oli made sure to pack everything I needed for this journey. You don't need to worry so much."
"My apologies, Lady Marquise." Stolas' expression softened. He realized he was being overly protective right now, so he opted to be more...obedient servant to her.
"And now you're treating me like I'm older than you," Octavia retorted. "Can't you just find a middle ground?"
"I suppose I'll have to work on finding that middle ground...but I will try,"
"You better be..." Octavia joked with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She then grinned even more. "That's a Marquise order."
"By your command," Stolas playfully brought his talon to his chest, bowing his head in honor of Marquise Octavia.
"I must say, Lady Octavia, your father's concerns for your well-being are quite endearing. Remember that it was I who gathered all your things in your rucksack." Olivia took the opportunity to interject with a mischievous smile.
"Endearing?" Octavia rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her face. "More like overbearing."
"Well, it's a good thing you have someone like me to balance out his overprotectiveness." Olivia chuckled. "Lady-In-Waiting duties include protecting you from unnecessary worries, after all."
"Ah, yes, Olivia: the ever-watchful and dutiful Lady-In-Waiting." Octavia replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, how many unnecessary worries have you protected me from today?"
"About ten or more." Olivia feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over her chest and, of course, faking it. "But why do you even question my skills, Lady Octavia? I've protected you from at least three mundane worries and countless mildly inconvenient situations. I'm practically your guardian angel."
"In that case, will you chew my food from now on?" Octavia grinned, daring her.
Here, Olivia blinked a few times before tilting her head a bit and responding as she meant to. "As your Lady-In-Waiting, it's my duty to take care of you."
"Well, sure, as Lady-In-Waiting...but as Olivia?"
"As Olivia, I will hate you for the rest of my life, curse you and your grandchildren, and probably stab you in the back while you're showering or something... I will come up with the plans later; don't you worry." Olivia played along.
Ironically, that managed to make Octavia burst into laughter, unable to contain her amusement. Somehow Olivia is so good at switching from "Regal Lady" to "Bitch, I will fuck you up!" at a moment's notice. She is something alright.
"You really know how to surprise me with your rhetoric." Octavia said, wiping away a tear of laughter from her eye. "I'm glad you're here with us."
"It is always a pleasure to be at your service, my Lady." Olivia nodded.
Charlie couldn't help but smile at the dynamic between Octavia and Olivia. It's admirable how Olivia's presence brought out a more lighthearted side of Octavia, allowing her to let loose and laugh freely.
"We nearly here, hon." Vaggie called out from her driver's seat, turning the limousine to the left.
Charlie snapped out of her thoughts and looked out the window. She could see the Train Terminal in the distance, bustling with activity. The journey into Limbo was about to begin, and she was ready to face whatever challenges awaited them. Nevertheless, she turned to Octavia and Olivia.
"Are you both ready?" Charlie straightened up in her seat. "If there's anything you need, then it's best to solve it now."
"Nah, we're good, Charlie." Octavia nodded, with Olivia and Stolas also bowing their heads in respect to the Princess of Hell.
"Well...Limbo awaits us then, Octavia." Charlie nodded, gathering courage for what was about to come.
Vaggie parked the limousine in one of the VIP sections of the parking lot. The group exited the limousine and made their way towards the Train Terminal. The same guard who examined the imps saw them and immediately bowed his head.
"Lord Astaroth and Lord Vassago, with Lady Phenex, are waiting on the number 9 platform."
"Thank you." Charlie kindly nodded, as did Octavia, Olivia, and Stolas with their simple nods. Vaggie and that guard exchanged distrustful glances, but neither said anything back to each other.
Charlie, Vaggie, Octavia, Olivia, and Stolas made their way through the bustling Train Terminal, following the directions to the number 9 platform. Eventually, they would arrive there. Loona was sitting on the bench near Blitzø, who was preoccupied by staring at CEO Donny Lundee while he discussed business-related stuff with Astaroth and Vassago.
The young Hellhound noticed Octavia's presence and immediately got up, coming to Octavia.
"Well, it's about time you showed up, Tavi." Loona smirked, playfully teasing Octavia. "Thought you might have gotten lost in your fancy clothes and crown on your head."
Octavia rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile at Loona's familiar banter. "Oh, please. I could navigate through the swamps of the Gluttony Ring blindfolded and still look better than you, Loona."
"Ouch, that stings, Tavi." Loona smirked cynically...guess someone learned to be more sassy. "But you know what? You're probably right."
Octavia chuckled, opening her arms for a hug. "Come here, already."
Loona eagerly embraced Octavia, her playful smirk turning into a genuine smile. It had been a while since they had seen each other...outside of their phone texting, but it was nice to see them together once more.
"I missed you, Tavi, you better be ready for some wild adventures because you and I are going to tear it up!"
"Oh, I'm more than ready," Octavia replied, excited a bit too. "And I invited someone else for that adventure. Loona, meet Charlie: The Princess of Hell and...my cousin, technically."
Loona released Octavia from the hug and turned her attention to Charlie, her expression shifting from playful to intrigued. It's not every day that you see Royalty of Deadly Sins.
"The Princess of Hell, huh? Octavia's been telling me all about you."
"It's nice to meet you too, Loona." Charlie smiled warmly, extending her hand towards Loona. “Octavia has also spoken highly of you. I'm glad to have you on board."
"Feelings are mutual, y-your majesty." Loona accepted Charlie's handshake with a firm grip, mostly out of pragmatism and...respect for royalty. The only thing she knew about Hell's heir was that she was...an anomaly.
"Please, just call me Charlie, Loona. I prefer it that way." Charlie understood Loona's cautious approach. She was aware that as the Princess of Hell, she was meant to be...taken seriously. But she wanted her team to see her as more than just her title.
"Yeah, sure..." Loona nodded, still a little bit tense. But her eyes caught the presence of Vaggie and Olivia. "And these two are?"
Charlie gestured towards Vaggie and Olivia, introducing them to Loona. "This is Vaggie, my love of my life, and this is Olivia, Octavia's Lady-in-Waiting."
"Hey." Vaggie nodded respectfully, serious yet welcoming.
"A pleasure to meet you, Loona." Olivia smiled politely, her demeanor composed and professional, exceedingly nice to a hellhound, as is normally not the case with the rest of Ars Goetia.
"A Lady-In-Waiting?" Loona was surprised by this, looking at Octavia. "Tavi, aren't they like...friends with benefits?"
"Loona..." Octavia slowly shook her head, blushing a bit. "Not in front of my dad."
"It's alright, my Lady." Olivia assured that she would handle the misconception. "No, Miss Loona. I'm more of a...walking problem solver to Octavia than a friend with benefits."
"In what way? Through talking or kicking someone's ass?"
"What if I say both?" Olivia grinned a bit.
"Heh, I like you already." Olivia's response caused Loona to burst into a smirk. She found herself immediately liking Olivia's straightforwardness and sense of humor.
"And I like you too, Miss Loona." Olivia returned the kind gesture.
And just in time, a trio of familiar faces approached Charlie. It was Blitzø, Moxxie, and Millie from I.M.P, their curiosity piqued by Charlie's presence.
"So, it's true, huh? You're the Princess of Hell, after all." Blitzø admired Charlie's appearance...especially those thighs.
"Yeah, it's me." Charlie nodded while Vaggie raised her eyebrow at that imp's remark. "And you're mister...um?"
Blitzø proudly brought his hand to his chest, ready for his pride to shine. "My name is Blitzø, the 'o' is silent, and I am the founder and owner of I.M.P: Immediate Murder Professionals."
"Oh, nice name! And what does your company do?" Charlie asked, intrigued.
"...We immediately murder professionally...whatever pays the bills, am I right?"
"I see...." Charlie raised an eyebrow at Blitzø's response, unsure if he was joking or being serious. Nevertheless, she tried to steer the conversation in a more constructive direction. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Blitzø...and...didn't I see you somewhere before?"
"Yeah, Sir and I were there at the studio on the day of your hotel announcement." Moxxie interjected, walking up with Millie to bow their heads. "I'm Moxxie and this is Millie, your majesty. It will be a pleasure to serve you."
"Oh, yeah! I remember you now, Blitzø!" Charlie actually slapped her forehead, realizing where she had seen him before. "But didn't you look... way different ?"
"Aren't we all?" Blitzø shrugged; what else could he say? "Maybe I grew handsome for you."
"Blitzy..." Stolas warned, not liking that blatant flirtation...even Vaggie crossed her arms and stared at the tall imp.
"Hey, it's not my fault that-"
*Train Horn*
As the train horn blared in the distance, interrupting Blitzø's explanation, the group turned their attention towards the platform. The fully armored train was approaching, stopping at the platform and opening the door, with some of the train crew getting out to begin their work.
"All board! We will be leaving in 30 minutes!" One of the Imps announced
"Well, it looks like our ride is here." Charlie smiled, trying to maintain herself as....well saying goodbye is very hard for anyone. "Well, let's not waste time."
"Your majesties!" Crimson called out as Charlie turned to face Crimson. "Crimson Knolastname, The Electors of Goetia wish to talk with you before you board the train."
"Thank you, sir." Charlie replied with a nod. She turned to Octavia and gestured with her head. Together, they made their way towards the council members while the rest of their group stood back, giving them space.
Once Charlie and Octavia were a sufficient distance away, Crimson turned his attention fully to the I.M.P. His voice took on a low, threatening tone, laced with an undercurrent of amusement.
"Now, now, I.M.P., I see you've managed to meet the Princess of Hell herself, haven't you?" Crimson's eyes narrowed, his gaze looking at each member of the group. "But do not forget your place in front of her. Any complaints from her will be a death warrant for you all."
"Why do you care so much about how we behave in front of the Princess of Hell, Dad?" Moxxie couldn't help but speak up.
"Oh, dear son, it's not that I care. But someone else does. Care to take a guess?" Crimson's smile widened, revealing a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
Moxxie furrowed his brow before he realized who his dad meant. "Oh, chrumbs."
"Smart kid." Crimson's chuckle sent chills down their spines. "The Imperator Satan himself is well aware of Charlie's departure. And he has made it abundantly clear that if he hears even a single complaint from her about you... well, let's just say your future will be rather bleak, I might add."
"Let me guess, you peed your pants when you saw him?" Blitzø dared.
"Nobody is worthy to see the mighty Satan unless you prove yourself, Mr. Blitzø. So no, I didn't see him." Crimson brought another cigar and lit it. "You may board if you so wish...and Moxxie, good luck, and don't disappoint your Imperator."
With a final, knowing glance, Crimson turned and walked away, leaving the members of the I.M.P. to process the weight of his words.
"Amazing...1.750.000 souls or being destroyed by Imperator." Moxxie complained.
"Oh, please, he is bluffing, Mox."
"Bluffing is not his strongest suit, sir. I know my dad too much already." Moxxie slowly shook his head as he watched his dad talk with some of Satan's Legion imps.
"You won't ask him about Moxxara?" Millie wondered why Moxxie didn't ask Crimson as the opportunity presented itself.
"There is no point...he will either be vague or demand that I shut up...as usual." Moxxie released a breath before glancing at the train. "So...I guess this is it, then?"
Moxxie's voice carried a hint of resignation as he looked at his fellow I.M.P. members. Millie reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"We've been through worse, Moxx," Millie said softly. "We'll get through this too."
"I know, my love." Moxxie pressed his head against Millie's, praying in his mind to Imperious and Lord Satan for his and her strength to survive in Limbo. They would then face towards Blitzø. They knew this moment was inevitable, but that didn't make it any easier.
"So..." Moxxie began, already quivering. "Guess we will be absent from you for a while, huh?"
"It's going to be a heaven of a hole to fill." Blitzø looked at them with a rare softness in his eyes. He let out a sigh and placed his hands on their shoulders.
"Don't worry, boss. You'll manage just fine." Millie leaned into Blitzø's touch, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it won't be the same without you two and Loona around." Blitzø's gaze softened even further, his grip on their shoulders tightening. "But Listen. You better come back. We still have a business to run, and I can't do it without my star performers. You're my family, remember?"
"And you're like family to us too, Blitzø." Moxxie's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he nodded. "Shit...now I'm about to cry."
"Don't be a piss-stain, Mox." Blitzø half-joked, but he could not hold himself. "Just...well...just COME HERE, ALREADY!"
Blitzø without Mox's approval, grabbed the short imp and embraced him fully...enough that it crashed Moxxie's spine. Moxxie let out a surprised yelp as Blitzø enveloped him in a tight bear hug. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he couldn't find his breath.
"Okay, okay, sir, ease up a bit!" Moxxie managed to gasp, his voice muffled by Blitzø's shoulder. "I can't breathe!"
Blitzø chuckled, his grip loosening just enough for Moxxie to catch his breath. He released Moxxie, but his hands remained on his shoulders, his eyes filled with genuine concern.
"Sorry, Mox....but you know...just come back to me, my brother."
"I will...brother." Moxxie's eyes filled with tears as he looked into Blitzø's eyes. The usually playful imp had dropped his guard, revealing a vulnerable side that touched Moxxie's heart.
Both Moxxie and even Millie wiped away their tears, giving Blitzø one last smile. With that, they turned and walked towards the train. Blitzø watched them go, even though he felt dread right now...a small smile remained on his lips.
As Loona stood beside Blitzø, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, a mix of conflicting emotions washed over her. She was usually quick to brush off any sentimentality, but deep down, she couldn't deny the bond she had formed with her I.M.P. family.
"So, I'm really going with them, huh?" Loona muttered, slowly shaking her head around. "Gonna be weird without you around."
"Yeah..." Blitzø looked at Loona. He knew that even behind her tough facade, she cared deeply for her comrades. "But you know, Loons, they're going to need your support too."
Loona's scowl softened, her gaze shifting away from Blitzø. "Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it. I'm going for Tavi's sake."
"I know, Loona...but you sure you're will be okay?" Blitzø took a step closer to Loona, his expression earnest.
"Don't get mushy on me...it's just weird." Loona's ears twitched, and she glanced back at Blitzø, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.
"Wouldn't want it any other way, Loony." Blitzø chuckled, his tail swaying gently behind him. "And go easy on Mox...Satan's a-hole only knows what is happening up there."
"I know...you say this as If I hadn't done that before...dad." Loona couldn't help but crack a small smile, her tough exterior giving way to a rare moment of warmth.
Blitzø only shook his head and just decided to be straightforward with her...he approached and just embraced her...nothing that screamed of Blitzø's antics...but a genuine hug of affection...from a father to a daughter.
As Blitzø embraced Loona, she hesitated for a moment...very awkward. But ultimately, she reluctantly returned the hug. It was a rare display of vulnerability from her, but Loona found it...cute.
"I...I'm gonna miss you, old man," Loona whispered, voice trembling.
"I'm going to miss you too, Loony," Blitzø replied, his voice soft and sincere. He released her from the hug, a fond smile on his face. "And remember, kick some serious ass. I expect nothing less from my little hellhound."
With that, Loona turned away, wiping her eye because "definitely something was on her eye". She climbed on the board but stopped at the entrance as she turned back to him.
"Hey, dad..."
"Yeah?"
"Th-than-...shit." Loona cursed as she blinked a few times, lowering her head as she felt so much...like not herself. "Ah, forget it..."
Blitzø understood the unspoken words she couldn't bring herself to say. He nodded, acknowledging her struggle, and offered her a reassuring smile...and one final nod.
Loona too returned that final nod...with a warm smile. Blitzo watched as Loona boarded the train, her departure leaving a void that echoed in his heart. With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the platform, making his way toward Stolas and Vaggie, who were waiting nearby.
As he approached them, Blitzø's usually energetic demeanor was replaced with a somber expression. Stolas glanced at Blitzø, seeing that his love of life was suffering.
"It's not easy to say goodbye, is it?" Stolas whispered to Blitzø, even Vaggie had to slowly nod, agreeing with the Goetia Demon...it's never easy.
"Yeah..." Blitzø only muttered that before glancing at Charlie and Octavia. Currently, the young nobles with Gaap and Olivia nearby were being debriefed by Astaroth and Vassago, with Phenex standing nearby, observing them silently. Their debriefing seemed to be coming to an end, and as Astaroth and Vassago stepped back, Charlie and Octavia returned to them.
"So what did they tell you, hon?"
"Just rephrase what we should do once we set foot in Limbo. Marchosias' Castle will be our temporary home for a while." Charlie explained.
"Can you trust that Marchosias guy?" Vaggie asked, just to be sure.
"Goetias of the same age do get along just fine. Marchosias can be trusted, Sinner." Phenex interjected, holding a holstered sword in her hand.
"Yeah-yeah. I'm just concerned, that's all." Vaggie nodded, seeing the wisdom in the Phoenix bird. Her gaze then shifted to Charlie. The weight of their impending separation hung heavy in the air, but they were determined to make the most of their final moments together. "I can't believe you're really doing this,"
"Sacrifices have to be made..." Charlie also nodded, finding a harsh truth in these words. "But I have to do this..."
"I know...that's why I'm supportive of that." Vaggie reached out and gently caressed Charlie's cheek, her touch conveying a depth of love that words couldn't express. "I believe in you, Charlie. Always have, always will."
A tear escaped Charlie's eye, and she leaned into Vaggie's touch, savoring the warmth and comfort it brought. They held each other tightly, their hearts beating in sync. Time seemed to stand still as they shared a bittersweet moment of vulnerability and love.
"I'll miss you, Vaggie."
"I'll miss you too, Charlie."
They shared a final, lingering kiss, pouring their emotions into the moment. It was a tender farewell.
"Damm...hot lesbian action." Blitzø muttered to himself, admiring it. But that earned a disapproving glance from Stolas.
Charlie was the first to pull herself away from their kiss. There was an awkward silence; clearly both of them wanted more, but...it is what it is.
"I'll see you soon, Vaggie. I love you."
"I love you too, Charlie. Stay safe in Limbo and come back to me."
With one last lingering glance, Charlie turned and glanced at Octavia, who stood nearby, watching the heartfelt exchange. Octavia understood the significance of the moment and gave Charlie a knowing smile.
"I'll see you on the train, Octavia. I think both you and Stolas need some time alone."
"Thanks, Charlie." Octavia nodded, grateful as she felt...she really needed some time alone for what was about to come.
They shared a quick hug, conveying their unwavering support for one another. With a final nod, Charlie turned and made her way to the train, leaving Octavia to say her goodbyes.
Before entering inside, Charlie caught one last glimpse of Vaggie. The Moth demon blew her a kiss and waved it at Charlie. The Princess of Hell caught the kiss in the air and pressed her hand on her chest, taking it with her. And with that, Charlie went inside.
Octavia stood alone on the platform, watching as Charlie disappeared into the train. Her heart was heavy with a mixture of emotions, knowing that she wouldn't see her dad for a while. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, before turning her attention to Stolas.
"Are you alright, my dear?" Stolas stood there, his expression pensive and his eyes filled with a blend of pride and concern.
"Of course I'm fucking not, dad." Octavia felt dread and...just empty. It looks like her old self lingered on.
"Remember I asked you many times, Via. Are you sure about this? No-one is forcing you to go there." Stolas again wanted to know if Octavia's feelings were....clear to him.
Octavia's expression hardened as she met Stolas' gaze. There was a flicker of anger in her eyes, but it quickly dissipated; she was still frustrated. As it hurts to admit, there is Stella's own impulsiveness in Octavia, dormant for now.
"Dad, I..." Octavia began, but she adjusted her feelings to be more confident. "I understand your own concerns, but I MUST do it. The Original Book of Solomon is out there, and I've got to find it. It's my responsibility, as a Goetia, to seek and understand the secrets of this universe."
Stolas watched in silence, with a slightly tilted head. There was no judging expression in the Ex-Prince's eyes, only a small smile as he watched her trying to justify her own reasons.
"Of course, I-I don't want do it alone." Octavia continued with her justification, "But I need to...it's very hard to explain."
Once she finished, Stolas would gently kneel down so that their eyes could have a genuine conversation. "It frightens you, doesn't it, Via?"
"...Y-yeah." Octavia slowly nodded. It is a harsh truth, but there is nothing she can do about it. "Like you taught me...yeah."
"That is WHY you must do it, my Starfire. Today, you stand as Marquise Octavia because of your own successes, not because of me." Stolas nodded slowly, continuing once more. He then brought his talons to her shoulders, laying them gently as he still maintained eye contact. "My child...my dearest Octavia, my darling Starfire. You're ready...so I'm ready to accept who you are."
"Dad..." Octavia teared up, not believing what she was hearing right now. No words were needed as Stolas brought her closer, resting his own forehead against hers.
He finally let go of Octavia, keeping hold of himself. Stolas still knelt in front of her...but here tears streamed as he completely broke down at this point.
"The 36th Spirit of the Ars Goetia will go..." Stolas sniffed as his shaking talon brought itself to his chest, pressing it so hard. "But my Octavia...remains here."
Octavia's heart ached as she watched her father break down before her. Without hesitation, she launched herself at Stolas, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. All of the frustration, anger, and concerns that had plagued Octavia throughout her life came pouring out in that moment. Their shared history and the pain they had caused each other melted away as they clung to each other.
Tears streamed down both of their faces as they held onto one another, finding solace and redemption in their embrace. Octavia could feel her father's trembling form against her, his sobs mixing with her own. They remained locked in that tender embrace, as if time had stood still, the outside world fading into insignificance.
In that moment, the walls that had separated them for so long crumbled, and a profound understanding washed over them. Octavia realized that despite their flaws and mistakes, they were bound by an unbreakable bond of love.
As they finally pulled apart, their eyes met, and a shared understanding passed between them. The air felt lighter; the burden of their past was lifted. Octavia reached up and gently wiped away the tears from Stolas' face, her touch conveying forgiveness and love.
"I love you, Dad," Octavia said, her voice filled with sincerity.
"And I love you too, my precious Starfire," Stolas replied, his voice filled with gratitude. "Take care of yourself. I will be waiting for your return."
Stolas finally let go of Octavia, his hands still resting on her shoulders. Phenex would then approached them.
"♪ I don't need to repeat Stolas' own words to describe how much I'm proud of you, Via. ♪" Phenex expressed herself, She unhooked her beautifully crafted sword. "♪ This sword is a gift from Andras. He asked me to deliver it to you.♪"
Octavia's eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. She extended her trembling hands to accept the sword. "Even though I still don't forgive his actions, convey my thanks for this."
Octavia held the sword tightly in her grasp, feeling the grip of its hilt and the weight of its blade.
"♪ I will, Via... ♪" Phenex slowly nodded; she also glanced at Olivia and made a nod for her to proceed. "♪ And I thought about it. Take Olivia with you. She might as well help to Marchosias as he is rather...needs to learn the Goetian etiquette. ♪"
"Guess you're stuck with me, my lady." Olivia grinned, coming to Octavia's side. She also offered a napkin. "And we probably have to fix your makeup once more."
Octavia smiled, grateful for Olivia's lightheartedness, especially in this moment. She took the napkin and chuckled softly. "Thank you, Oli. I appreciate having you by my side. Well...no time to waste then."
"Good luck out there, kiddo." Blitzø also said his goodbyes.
"Thanks, Uncle Blitzø." Octavia returned the nod. Together with Olivia, she walked towards the train, waving goodbye to her father and Great-aunt. Phenex was the first to leave. On her way, she glanced at the train cars; she was not sure where he was...but she prayed for her own Father for Rönne to honor his promise.
Astaroth and Vassago, along with the CEO of Militech, also stared at the train...mostly for their own reasons. Each one of them had their own agenda deep inside.
Inside the train, the interior was pristine, exuding an air of elegance and luxury. The walls were adorned with intricate designs and polished wood paneling, giving the space a timeless and refined atmosphere. Soft, plush seats lined the aisles, inviting passengers to relax and enjoy the journey.
"Your majesty!" One of the train crew members, dressed in a smart uniform and wearing a badge from Militech, would come up to them. "On behalf of Militech, we are delighted to see you on the board of our train! Allow me to guide you to your room."
In silence, Octavia and Olivia made their way through the corridors. The crew member's steps were silent on the plush carpeting as they led the two towards their train bedroom.
"And here you are!" Militech personnel swung the door open to reveal a cozy space with a neatly made bed, soft pillows, and fresh linens. A small table with a vase of flowers added a touch of elegance, while a window allowed natural light to filter in, providing a glimpse of the passing scenery. "You will find all the necessary amenities for a comfortable stay. If you require anything further, please don't hesitate to let us know."
Octavia thanked the crew member with a nod of appreciation. She stepped inside the train bedroom, taking in the soothing ambiance that enveloped the space. It was a welcome respite from the bustling energy of the train and the challenges that awaited them in Limbo. Charlie already removing some of her stuff from her backpack while Loona was lying on the bed, typing on her phone.
Olivia followed Octavia inside, closing the door behind them, and sat herself down. Octavia dropped Andras' sword on the bed before just collapsing on it, taking a little rest before asking.
"So, Loona," Octavia called out. "Can't believe it's finally happening."
"Excited?" Charlie smiled.
"In a way." Octavia turned to Charlie, nervousness evident in her eyes. "It could be a nice adventure."
"Uh-huh." Loona sighed. "So, what now? Where will we be going after the train?"
"To Marchosias' castle, then we will see, Miss Loona." Charlie explained, sending a message to Hazbin Hotel's main Voxtagram account, saying goodbye to them.
"And who the fuck is Marchosias?" Loona wondered uncaringly.
"A fellow Goetia, Loona. Like me," Octavia explained. "A few times I saw him, and he is quite a nice one."
"He is also a Hellhound." Olivia added.
"Wait a minute!" Loona raised an eyebrow, finding it unbelievable. "Since when did the Ars Goetia allow hellhounds like me to be part of the Goetian nobility?"
"It's complicated, Loona...and probably would be better if he told it by himself." Octavia admitted that it was a valid point. But there is still a huge concern regarding the bedroom. "So, there are four of us. Who takes the lower beds?"
"I don't mind taking the upper bunk, your majesty." Olivia offered, her tone casual. "I've slept in all kinds of places, so bunk beds are no big deal for me."
"I'll take the upper bunk. I don't mind climbing up there. I prefer to be here anyway and not in the cheap-ass cots where Fatty and his wifey will be sleeping." Loona, chimed in indifferently.
"What about that prick Gaap?" Octavia wondered.
"In the next room from ours...said something about "I won't sleep next to that Hound" and he just left for the next one." Charlie shrugged.
"Well, on a bright side...we’re all roommates here from now on." Olivia grinned. "Talk about "Girl's night out," huh?"
"True, Oli. And it's better that way, as I wouldn't share the same room with Gaap." Octavia couldn't help but smile at Olivia's remark. She glanced at Loona, who seemed more engrossed in her phone than the conversation, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for her.
*Train Horn*
"The train is departing. Devilspeed, everyone!"
There was a little shaking of the train before it very slowly started to move. Charlie and Octavia, along with Moxxie and Millie from their room, rushed towards the windows. Blitzø, Vaggie, and Stolas stood on the platform, watching the train pull away slowly. They waved their hands in farewell and had faith in their friends and loved ones.
The train picked up speed, slowly distancing itself from the platform. Charlie, Octavia, Moxxie, and Millie continued to wave until the rest of the train left the platform to speed up.
As the train disappeared from sight, they stood there for a moment, silently sending their best wishes and unwavering support to the departing group.
"So..." Blitzø started awkwardly, switching his glance at Vaggie. "Vaggie, right?"
"That is me...." Vaggie raised her eyebrow, not sure where that Imp is getting that.
"Yeah-yeah. I get that." Blitzø scratched his head. "So...the Princess of Hell is your girlfriend, right?"
"...Yes?" Vaggie again didn't understand the questions.
"Is she into one-night standoffs?"
Vaggie immediately punched Blitzø right in the eye before just storming away from the platform, not wanting to stay close to that imp anymore. Stolas only shook his head and facepalmed himself at Blitzø's act.
"I probably deserved that..."
"That you did, Blitzø." Stolas stared with an unamused face. "That you did..."
Hell/The Pride Ring/Somewhere outside of Acheron's outskirts
The train continued its steady journey, traversing the desolate landscapes of Pride Ring. As it left the outskirts of Acheron behind, the scenery transformed into the borderlands, a landscape so barren that nothing much is interesting over here.
Charlie and Octavia made their way towards the dining car, where they knew they would find Moxxie and Millie. The smell of delicious food wafted through the air, enticing their senses. They stepped inside, their eyes immediately drawn to the sight of Millie sitting at a table, sipping a cup of tea.
"Hey there, your majesties." Moxxie greeted them with a smile, motioning for them to join. "Millie was told to have some tea to help out her sickness."
"No worries." Charlie returned the gesture and took a seat across from Moxxie and Millie with Octavia, settling into the comfortable booth. Charlie's gaze turned to Millie, concern evident in her eyes. "How are you feeling, miss Millie?"
"Well, the throat is sore, but yeah, it's doing its magic, your marjesty. Helps control the sickness and vomiting."
"But what are you sick of?"
"Even the doctor doesn't know it...said her immune system got weakened, but she just got a cold right now. It will pass."
"From the looks of it, it's just cold." Octavia also agreed. "What have you two been up to since we last saw you? Any interesting jobs or adventures?"
Moxxie chuckled. "Oh, you know, Miss Octavia. Odd jobs: from assassinating someone while they're giving birth to killing someone just because they stole a sandwich."
Charlie's eyes widened at Moxxie's response. "Uh...I hope the sandwich was really worth it? But I'm quite curious; what exactly does your company do?"
"We kill humans on earth...simple as that."
"...But why?"
"What do you mean why?" Moxxie wasn't sure about the question.
"I believe what Princess Charlie meant was, what is the purpose or objective behind your company?" Octavia interjected, trying to ease the tension in the conversation. “Like Is there a specific reason why you target humans, you know?"
Moxxie paused for a moment; he took a deep breath before responding. "Well, our company specializes in providing assassination services to clients in Hell. Our clients are typically demons seeking revenge or wanting someone eliminated for personal reasons."
"That sounds horrible!" Charlie objected.
"Isn't it? Seems to be they’re more realistic with their company than you are, Charlie!"
Charlie's heart sank as she heard the voice. Slowly, she turned around, And there, just behind her and hidden behind a newspaper, sat the Radio Demon himself. A chilling smile stretched across his face, his sharp gaze fixed on Charlie.
"A-Alastor?!"
Chapter 33: This Ain't No Place For No Hero [Episode 3: Finale]
Summary:
"'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: 'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
'You must be,' said the Cat, 'or you wouldn't have come here.'" - Alice In Wonderland
Chapter Text
October 1, 2025, AD (93 Days Before the Next Purge), 7:21 PM.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Somewhere In the farthest regions of Pride Ring.
Once more, Dad was right about many things.
Charlie vividly recalled the lessons her father had imparted. In the realm of Hell, one truth prevailed: nothing was ever as it seemed. Surprises lurked around every corner, and demons had learned not to expect anything too often. It was a lesson Princess Charlie had taken to heart, a philosophy guiding her dealings with the Radio Demon, Alastor. And where to start with him?
Alastor, or just Al, to put it mildly, was one of the most challenging demons Charlie had ever encountered. Many described him as so evil and powerful that few dared to cross his path. A demon so vicious and deadly that the blood of his victims stained every part of his body. Some even questioned if he had ever existed at all, shrouded in mystery and fear. Rumors claimed he had the power to dominate the seven rings of Hell, a power that, if left unchecked, could tear apart the very fabric of the void itself. And he'd happily do it with a skip in his step and a wide, toothy smile.
...
And at the same time, appearances can be deceiving.
Despite his fearsome reputation, Charlie had glimpsed another side of Alastor, a paradoxical nature. Beyond the tales of terror, she saw surprising depths and unexpected virtues. Hidden behind malicious intentions were flickers of something more complex—a demon capable of genuine wit, unexpected kindness, and a twisted form of charm.
Between the swaying train cars, Charlie paced back and forth, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Alastor watched her with a keen and amused look, hands tied together behind his back with his cane. His ever-present smile curled at the corners, and his sharp red eyes followed her every move like a predator stalking its prey. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of Charlie's footsteps.
"Troubled, my dear Charlie?" Alastor finally broke the silence, his voice dripping with mocking concern and genuine curiosity.
"Just stop, Al." Charlie halted her pacing and turned to face him, frustration evident in her furrowed brow. "Please, drop the act already. I know you well enough to worry about what you might be planning here."
"Planning?" Alastor chuckled softly, pushing away from the railing and approaching her. "Oh, you wound me with such distrust, my dear. I have no ulterior motives to cause mischief for you."
"Then why aren't you with the rest back at the hotel?" Charlie asked, showing concern. She genuinely didn't want to burden her friends with her quest into Limbo.
"Because I want to join you on your little adventure. Quite simple, don't you think?" His words sounded innocent, but a calculated glint in his eyes hinted at his motives.
"You expect me to believe that?" Charlie raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his seemingly harmless explanation.
"With all my heart, Charlie." Alastor's smile widened, and he placed a gloved hand over his heart in mock sincerity. "I'm simply here to enjoy your journey and perhaps engage in some delightful conversation with you during your travels."
Charlie remained silent, her wariness lingering, but the disarming charm of the Radio Demon was a difficult force to resist. She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she realized arguing with him would likely be pointless.
"Sorry, Al...just have to be cautious."
"Of course, my dear," Alastor replied, his tone oozing charm. "Remember what that angel, Emily, said to you? Caution is a virtue, after all."
"Yeah, it is." Charlie let out a quick, quiet smirk, crossing her arms as she glanced at the distant planet with a halo on it. She couldn't shake the feeling that her "caution" would be tested in Limbo by Alastor. "Did you come alone?"
"My dear Charlie, you wound me." A look of mock offense crossed Alastor's face as he placed a hand over his heart in feigned sincerity, emphasizing how much he was wounded by Charlie's lack of trust, with all these five years with her just thrown into the trash. "Would I ever put my friends in danger? Such a thought is positively devilish! I wouldn't dream of dragging others into my delightful escapades."
"Oh, thank goodness." Charlie sighed in relief, her shoulders relaxing.
"And speaking of delightful escapades!" Alastor continued with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I did bring a companion for some fun times."
"WHAT?!" Charlie exclaimed.
Before Charlie could inquire further, Alastor snapped his fingers, and with a puff of smoke, a grumpy-looking cat materialized in front of them, a deck of cards scattering around him.
"And now it's Ace-HEY, WHAT THE FUCK?!" Husk realized he was no longer in the playroom.
"Husk!" Alastor announced, gesturing grandly to the unamused feline as if they hadn't seen each other for a long time. "How's it been in Hazbin with you, my good old chump?!"
"Can't a cat play a decent hand without being summoned into your fuckery, Radio?!"
"I thought you'd enjoy a change of scenery, Husker old pal!" Alastor patted Husk on the back, earning an indignant hiss from the disgruntled cat.
"You brought Husk? Seriously?" Charlie intervened, still baffled.
"Of course!" Alastor grinned, clearly pleased with his choice. "What's an adventure without a Radio demon and a grumpy cat, I say! He can be a Mad Cat to your Alice In Wonderland, Charlie!"
"You can't just force him into my problems, Al!" Charlie argued back.
"Too late for that, princess. You know him better..." Husk shot her a deadpan look, already giving up.
Charlie sighed, realizing she had little choice but to play along with Alastor's whimsical game. Ultimately, she was not against Husk joining her, but she preferred that the rest of her crew not be endangered by what Charlie must do in Limbo. Plus, if Alastor could summon Husk, she hoped that Vaggie would be able to join her, but that's Alastor we speak of, so... no.
Approaching Husk, she spoke in a calm and sweet tone, "Hey, Husk, there's a bar a few train carriages ahead. You can hang out there. Just leave us alone for a bit, okay?"
Husk grumbled something unintelligible but nodded, sauntering off in the direction Charlie had pointed. She watched him disappear between the train cars, cards still in hand, his grumpy demeanor echoing through the clattering sounds of the moving train.
"Okay, Al," Turning back to Alastor, Charlie took a deep breath. "I'm willing to allow you to join. But please, no hurting anyone on this train, understood?"
"I wouldn't dream of causing a ruckus without proper cause."
"Al, I'm serious." Charlie narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. "We're here for a reason, and I need your word that you won't harm anyone."
Alastor sighed theatrically, as if complying with her request was a grand sacrifice. "Very well, my dear Charlie. I shall behave impeccably, just for you."
"Cool beans..." Charlie nodded, not entirely convinced but willing to take whatever assurances she could get from Alastor.
Alastor just smiled at her in silence as his gaze shifted to the vast, passing-by scenery unfolding before them, and an unusual silence settled over him.
"What's wrong, Al?" Charlie finally broke the silence, noting the uncharacteristic quiet from the usually talkative Radio Demon.
Alastor's smile remained, but his eyes betrayed a hint of nostalgia. "Ah, this train... I haven't been on one since my...mortal life, you could say. It brings back memories, some pleasant, some not so much."
"What do you mean?" Charlie furrowed her brow, sensing there was more to his words than he let on. Before she could press further, a familiar voice called out to her.
"Your majesty!"
Turning, she saw the short imp named Moxxie approaching, his expression filled with urgency.
"Your majesty, sorry to interrupt your conversation with, uh, Radio Demon here," Moxxie said, choosing his words carefully. "But we've got a problem. Marquise Octavia is causing a bit of chaos, and, uh, Prince Gaap is involved."
"Those two again? Alright, thank you for telling me, Mr. Mox." Charlie sighed, realizing that her peaceful journey was about to take a detour. She then shifted her attention to Alastor, giving him a stern look. "And Al... like I said, be nice to the others. It's very important to me that it will be smooth sailing, as Sev used to say...okay? See you with the rest."
Moxxie also cast a respectful yet wary glance at Alastor before accompanying Charlie as they left the strange, silent atmosphere around the Radio Demon. Alastor watched them leave, a smile playing on his lips as always.
"You're not the only one, sweetie belle." The cracking of his radio intensified as he whispered that, leaving an eerie feeling in the air.
The door to the main restaurant train compartment swung open, revealing Charlie and Moxxie's return. Since they left, the atmosphere inside had shifted dramatically. Octavia stood at one end, with Olivia behind her, gripping her mistress' arm to prevent her from doing something foolish. On the other side of the compartment, Striker and Prince Gaap Goetia confronted them, a heated exchange unfolding. Millie, despite her illness, sat on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. The scene seemed tense, as if a storm was brewing beneath the surface of their usually lively environment.
As soon as Charlie and Moxxie entered, Octavia's eyes locked onto Striker. With a sudden surge of anger, she lifted the nearby table with her telekinetic powers and hurled it at Striker. Striker wasn't fast enough to dodge it. The wooden surface crashed against the demon, causing him to stagger backward.
"You dared to try to kill my father, you snake!" Octavia's voice reverberated through the compartment, completely furious.
"Oh, my... she sure grew up." Millie, from her seat on the couch, took a sip of her tea, enjoying the show.
Like Millie, Prince Gaap watched the unfolding chaos with a sly grin, seemingly amused by the spectacle. Even when Striker got hit, he didn't bother to help out that peasant, preferring just to enjoy Octavia's insanity here.
"Well, well, your majesty..." Striker rose to his feet, a smug grin spreading across his face. He leisurely wiped the remaining dust off his outfit, seemingly unbothered by the attack. "The fiery temper and the tendency to throw things around...truly, a family trait."
"W-why you!" Octavia's eyes narrowed, the anger in her gaze intensifying at Striker's sarcastic remark. Her hands trembled with restrained frustration as she tried to contain her rage.
"My Lady," Olivia intervened. "He is just trying to get better off you. Don't let some lowborn imp dictate your anger. You only give him the satisfaction he craves."
"Better listen to your working girl, Octavia." Prince Gaap mocked.
"-WHAT?!" Olivia's normally composed demeanor faltered for a moment by Gaap's disrespectful comment. She swiftly snatched a shotgun from one of the Millitech mercenaries stationed in the compartment and aimed it directly at Gaap.
"Listen here, you insolent fool! Call me that again, and I'll make sure that this Duke Focalor's 'working girl' will fuck you up so thoroughly that Lord Paimon himself will have to find a new heir for his house!"
Seeing that it's about to turn into a slaughterhouse, Charlie had to step in.
"Alright, that's enough. Olivia, lower that shotgun." Charlie declared as she approached Olivia, her eyes briefly meeting Gaap's gaze of suspicion. Olivia reluctantly lowered the weapon, though her intense stare remained fixed on Gaap. Charlie then turned her attention to Octavia and Striker. "Okay, now please tell me what's going on between you two?"
"THAT ASSHOLE TRIED TO KILL MY FATHER, CHARLIE!" Octavia could not hold herself.
"The keyword is 'tried,'" Striker hissed back, unfazed by Octavia's outburst. "And fortunately for you, he is alive, and I got paid in the end...and now my job is to babysit you and that Prince with these two little fellas. So, I don't see a problem here."
"And I do see a problem here!" Octavia hissed, not allowing Striker to go that easily. "You can't just walk away after what you tried to do to my dad!"
"Actually, he can!" Gaap intervened, making two steps forward. "You see, Octavia, it's not me paying Striker to protect us but rather my father, Duke Zepar, alongside Duke Astaroth... and so what will I tell him? That a Marquise of Ars Goetia murdered a hired gun from the Elector's own hands for revenge?"
Octavia's rage seemed momentarily tempered by the realization of the complicated web she found herself entangled in. Charlie seized the opportunity to guide the conversation in a more constructive direction.
"Okay, look. I know you want justice for your father, but violence won't solve anything," Charlie urged, maintaining a composed demeanor.
"Your and my dad will not appreciate any unnecessary violence between us." Gaap added, a shrewd look in his eyes. "Creating trouble won't bring any good between your house and mine."
Octavia, though still visibly upset, nodded reluctantly. But she won't allow Gaap to leave with the final laugh.
"I demand that pleb out of my sight...NOW!" Octavia ironically used her mother's arsenal... can't argue it's not effective.
"Very well, your excellency." Striker couldn't resist a chuckle. He bowed his head in mock respect before turning on his heels and making his way out of the compartment. Prince Gaap, still wearing his sly grin, followed suit, deciding to leave that pathetic mockery of a "marquise" alone.
The door closed behind them, leaving Charlie, Octavia, and the rest of the occupants in the compartment with a momentary reprieve. But the young marquise still growled in the end, not capable of controlling her emotions. Charlie understood that very well, for she won't lie to herself that Charlie would have felt the same if someone targeted her own Dad but... now it's not that important.
"Via, I know it weighs heavily on you but revenge won't make things right. Right now, we have to be level-headed and prepared for whatever comes our way... please do it for me, okay?"
Octavia looked at Charlie with frustration, her emotions seemed to lessen as Charlie's words settled in. At first, she had hoped that the Princess would have granted her blessing to deal with Striker... but there is also wisdom in Charlie's words that she saw.
"I understand..." Octavia muttered, rubbing her beak before sighing. "Olivia, could you please make me some tea? I need to calm down."
Olivia nodded, immediately understanding Octavia's need for a moment of solace. As Octavia sank into a seat near Millie, she went to the small makeshift kitchenette to prepare a calming cup of tea. In the meantime, Charlie sat beside Octavia, offering a supportive presence.
"How are you feeling?"
"Miserable." Octavia mumbled.
"Been there." Charlie chuckled as she gently placed her hand on Octavia's shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze. "I know it's tough, Via. But it will pass."
"Uhuh..." Octavia nodded slowly. Eventually, Olivia returned with a warm cup of tea, as requested, allowing Octavia to take a sip of the calming brew. The warm liquid seemed to have an immediate effect, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She looked at Charlie, appreciating the support. "So, who are those smiley friends of yours?"
"That is me!"
A sudden burst of static accompanied by a cheerful jingle announced the arrival of none other than Alastor. The radio demon materialized in the center of the compartment, his grin wide and unsettling.
"Oh, for Dolphin's sake!" Charlie cursed.
"Well, well, well! If it isn't once more the magnificent Charlie!" Alastor greeted with a flourish. "I heard I was mentioned, and I thought I'd grace this train with my presence. After all, it's not every day you get an invitation to a royal party!" Alastor turned to the rest of the occupants in the compartment, his grin returning in full force. "Ladies and gentlemen, demons and denizens of this delightful train, today, your humble Radio Demon is at your service! I am here to assist in any way possible, just like a good little servant as our delightful Charlie wants me to be. So, how may I be of service to you all on this fine day?"
The cabin personnel and the Militech mercenaries exchanged puzzled glances. Most of them, unfamiliar with the infamous legend of Pentagram City, regarded him simply as another sinner accompanying the Princess of Hell.
One of the Militech mercenaries raised an eyebrow, looking to the nearest mercenary. "Hey, Shmucks. Who's the jazzy fellow, and why does he talk like he's hosting a radio show?"
"Beats me, Killbane." A younger imp demon, new to the crew, shrugged. "Must be one of the Princess's weird acquaintances. I heard she's got all sorts of odd tenants in her Hotel. Fucking Pride Ring, let me tell you."
The rest of the personnel seemed equally nonchalant, treating Alastor's theatrics with indifference. To them, he was just another demon in a train compartment filled with demons of varying backgrounds.
"Seriously, Al? Was that really necessary?" Charlie asked, hoping he would be clear with her.
Alastor chuckled, his unsettling grin never fading. "Necessary, my dear Charlie? Why, everything I do is absolutely necessary for the sheer delight it brings! Life's too short to be dull, especially now that I'm with you."
Charlie rolled her eyes, well-acquainted with Alastor's wackiness. She turned her attention to the small group of her friends seated nearby. She gestured towards Alastor with an amused smirk, as if presenting a peculiar friend.
"Moxxie, Millie, Octavia, Olivia, meet Alastor. He's a, well, let's say, a radio demon with a flair for the dramatic."
"The pleasure is all yours, my newly effeminate fellows!" Alastor flourished a bow and flashed his unsettling grin.
"Nice to meet you, I guess." Moxxie nodded a greeting, skeptical about Radio Demon
"Charmed." Millie said, giving a polite nod.
Octavia only eyed the new arrival with a wariness and no response whatsoever.
"Ah, delightful! I can already sense the potential rollercoaster of fun in this lovely gathering!" Alastor's grin widened, seemingly unfazed by the reception. He would teleport once more, this time appearing between Octavia and Charlie, arms around their shoulders. "Now, what exciting conversations will we have for today, my dear companions?"
"Alastor, personal space?" Charlie remarked, trying to disentangle herself from the radio demon's arm.
"Personal space is overrated!" Alastor chuckled, tightening his grip on both Octavia and Charlie.
Octavia shot a disapproving look at Charlie, silently asking if this was normal with him. Charlie could only offer an apologetic shrug. Moxxie and Millie exchanged looks, clearly unsure how to react to this demon's antics.
"I need some fresh air." Octavia, deciding she had had enough for the moment, pushed away from Alastor's grasp. Olivia would also follow her mistress.
"Good idea, Octavia," Charlie agreed, thankful for the excuse to escape the awkward dynamic.
As the trio made their way towards the exit of the compartment, Alastor remained behind, a devilish grin on his face. The personnel and mercenaries resumed their activities as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Outside the compartment, in the narrow corridor of the train, Octavia took a deep breath, the cool air providing a momentary reprieve from the chaos inside.
"Sorry about that," Charlie apologized to Octavia as they walked. "Alastor has a flair for the dramatic entrances, to say the least."
"I'm not used to such...things." Octavia sighed, a mixture of frustration and amusement.
"Alastor is one of a kind, that's for sure." Charlie chuckled, understanding Octavia's sentiment.
"Why did you want him here, though?"
"It's not entirely by my choice; Alastor has been with me since the opening of the Hazbin Hotel. He has his own ways, and...I won't lie, but he's contributed both talent and resources that have been beneficial to me in the long run."
Octavia raised an eyebrow, still unsure about this eccentric demon. "But can we trust him? I have Gaap and Striker on my plates already."
Charlie hesitated, her silence speaking volumes. Trusting Alastor was always a precarious proposition. Before she could provide an answer, Loona entered the compartment.
"Tavi, tell me this forsaken train has some damn Wi-Fi. I'm bored out of my mind," Loona complained, glancing around the compartment with a scowl. "I just want some Wi-Fi..."
"I will share some of mine, Loonie." Octavia assured before looking at Charlie. "So...ready to head back?"
Charlie nodded, appreciating the brief respite from the commotion. "Yeah, let's get back."
As Charlie, Octavia, and Loona made their way back to the rest of their group, they found a surprising scene unfolding. Alastor, with his charismatic flair, was engaged in a lively conversation with Moxxie, detailing various creative ways of dispatching their intended targets. Husk also joined them, just staring at the bottle of vodka in his hands.
"...and that's when you pounce at your prey, my dear imp. Trust me, it's so lively when they scream in agony." Alastor suggested with a devilish grin.
Moxxie seemed both amused and slightly horrified by Alastor's unconventional advice. Millie, on the other hand, took the notes...someone is learning.
"What's going on here?"
"Oh, we're just discussing some methods for approaching our victims." Alastor replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "You know, spicing things up a bit."
"I never thought I'd take assassination advice from a demon like him, ma'am." Moxxie sighed, looking at Charlie with exasperation.
"Better that way. You need to get better at killing shit, fatty." Loona remarked with no emotion.
"Wolf girl got a point." Husk raised the bottle of vodka in agreement, breaking his silence. "Sometimes, you just need a fresh approach to the old routine. Sticking with it will only get ya killed eventually."
"Oh, please." Moxxie waved his hand slightly. "I know how to handle a gun."
"Kiddo, you hold your gun inside your navy-black coat while the proper way is on your holster." Husk wasn't impressed. "5 Seconds can make a huge difference in the warfare."
"H-how did you know I have a pistol on me?" Moxxie asked, surprised at how that Grumpy Cat sinner managed to realize. He purposely hid his piece well enough for any dire situation.
"A good drink sharpens the senses, kiddo." Husk smirked, taking a swig from his bottle. "Plus, you don't have to be in the Marine Corps to spot someone packing heat."
As the group was having their discussion, Alastor cast a glance towards Loona. Something about her presence seemed to disturb him. His charismatic grin wavered, and an uncharacteristic tension crept into his expression.
Loona, seemingly oblivious to the change in atmosphere, continued scrolling through her phone, muttering about the lack of Wi-Fi on the forsaken train.
Alastor then excused himself from the conversation with Moxxie and Husk. He strolled over to Charlie, who was observing.
"Charlie, my dear, it seems our delightful conversation has taken a peculiar turn..."
"What's bothering you, Alastor?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.
He glanced back at Loona. "That wolf girl... there's something unsettling about her."
Charlie chuckled, finding it unusual for Alastor to express discomfort. "Unsettling? Oh, come on. Don't say you're afraid of dogs. Even Husk is not bothered by miss Loona."
Before Alastor could respond, Loona looked up from her phone, mildly annoyed."If you two are done whispering, can we get on with whatever scheme you're cooking up? I'm not here for a tea party."
Charlie exchanged a glance with Alastor, who, despite his initial discomfort, now wore a wider, almost mischievous smile. He made a slow nod, acknowledging the unspoken agreement (one-side) to keep a watchful eye on Loona.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Somewhere In the farthest regions of Pride Ring.
Several hours had passed since the journey began, and the members of the group found themselves scattered around the common area of the train. As the train traversed most of the Pride Ring, hurtling through the bizarre landscapes and peculiar terrains of Hell, it gradually approached the edge of the colossal ring. The rhythmic clatter of wheels against tracks echoed through the narrow corridors of the train as it sped toward its next destination.
Moxxie and Husk talked about their favorite guns, with the grumpy cat usually berating the freckled imp for not properly using his weapons in combat. Octavia and Loona browsed Hellnet on their phones, while Olivia was busy trying to fix her own claw with a nail. Millie took a nap, very quietly snoring, and Alastor listened to the slightly crackling noises from his radio equipment, nothing unusual from his usual behavior.
Charlie seated with her notebook and seemed to be in her own world, sketching cute and whimsical drawings. Sometimes, she glanced over to the window to gaze out at the ever-changing scenery of Hell. This is the first time she saw Pride Ring outside of Pentagram City, and she won't lie about how much it feels so different when everything around you is a desert.
Ping
"Attention all Militech personnel. We're arriving at the last station until New Limbo. Make sure that any concerns or problems are liquidated."
Turns out, the train approached the last checkpoint station at the edge of the Pride Ring, slowing down before making a full stop at the train platform. Charlie noticed a peculiar sight. A series of additional carriages were being skillfully attached to the rear of the train, all bearing the markings of Ars Goetia.
"Hey, Via. Have you any clue what Ars Goetia is bringing with us?" Charlie inquired, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation.
"Probably supplies for Ars Colonia..." Octavia muttered, her attention still on Hellnet. Olivia continued sharpening her own claw, seemingly indifferent to the ongoing developments.
"Ars Colonia?"
"To my understanding, Ars Goetia has been involved in establishing colonies in Limbo, and Ars Colonia is like the official name of it." Octavia looked up from her browsing at Charlie. "They might be transporting resources and personnel for it."
"Yeah, it seems that way..." Charlie sighed as Charlie couldn't shake off the feeling that something more than just supplies was at play with Ars Goetia's involvement...it seems her time in Lemegeton only made her question Ars Goetia more.
The train waited at the station as more of it was unloaded or loaded with cargo goods or additional manpower. One of the Militech workers wrote his report, ensuring the accountability of every carriage. Ars Colonia makes sure that EVERY order they make will not be lost by some "bureaucratic nonsense," to put it blandly.
While he was working, a group of mercenaries clad in red-armored suits approached him. Their attire lacked any emblems, and the vivid red palette of their armor created an imposing presence. The worker looked up from his report, eyeing the newcomers with suspicion.
"What's this?"
"We're here to ensure the safety of this cargo."
The Militech worker frowned, glancing around as if expecting someone from his organization to elaborate. There was no one other than him and those mercenaries. "There haven't been any requests for additional security. Militech is the sole provider for this train's protection."
"That's unfortunate, comrade."
"Comrade?" The Militech worker got confused by this word...before it struck him. "Wait...this is not the manner of a money-making mercenary. You're not part of the corporate Gree-"
Before the worker could protest further, another member of the "mercenaries" slipped behind him unnoticed. With a swift movement, he unsheathed a blessed knife and struck the worker in a vital spot. The worker gasped, his eyes widening in shock as the blade pierced through him.
The leader caught the worker before he could collapse, easing him to the ground. The Militech worker's lifeblood stained the platform, and the mercenaries acted swiftly. They dragged the lifeless body to a concealed corner, ensuring that their actions went unnoticed.
Their leader would bring his finger to his earpiece, delivering the news. "Red Fury, this is the 2nd Detachment of Limbonian 312nd regiment. We've managed to infiltrate the train."
"Any setbacks?" A female raspy voice sounded in his earset.
"Negative, ma'am. The Infernalists won't know what hit them."
"Very good. Proceed with the assignment and wait until the ambush is set. Keep in mind that our..."benefactors" sent an operative as well. Find that operative and link your forces with him. I don't want any incidents until our hold is secured in Limbo."
"Copy, Red Fury. Glory to the I.R.A." The I.R.A rebel leader responded into his earpiece, signaling the rest to move out. They got themselves inside one of the carriages, closing the door behind them and assuming the position, hidden from the sight of the rest of Militech mercenaries, until the time to strike begins for them.
The squad of I.R.A. rebels remained hidden within the confines of the commandeered carriage. As the train continued its stationary vigil at the station, the unsuspecting Militech mercenaries carried on with their duties, oblivious to the covert presence in their midst.
The rebels waited in silence, their eyes fixed on the closed door that separated them from the outside.
*Shuffling*
Suddenly, the quiet of the hidden space was disrupted by shuffling noises. The rebels quickly regrouped, aiming their weapons in the direction of the disturbance. The rebels tightened their grip on their weapons, ready to confront a potential threat. However, to their surprise, one of their own failed to notice the approaching figure, a revolver's barrel was pressed against the rebel's helmet. The rebels refocused their attention on the unexpected intruder.
The dim light revealed the face of the person holding the revolver, a crow sinner in dark/grey cowboy outfit.
"If you were an enemy, you'd be dead already." Rönne slowly whispered, making sure that his words were heard quite well. In the battlefield, that would have been the gravest mistake a warrior could ever make. But ultimately, he would lower his revolver. The rebels slowly lowered their weapon, exchanging cautious glances with their comrades.
"So, I assume you're that operative our 'benefactors' sent?" The rebel leader demanded, suspicion evident in their voice.
"Sort of." Rönne Schaffer nodded, acknowledging the rebel leader's assumption. "I'm here on my own mission as well."
"Care to enlighten us, angel?" The rebel leader arched an eyebrow, the skepticism in their eyes deepening.
"Will you too, though?" Rönne also shown his own skepticism.
The rebel leader and Rönne locked eyes for a moment, a silent exchange of distrust between two unlikely allies. The rebels seemed hesitant, but the pressing circumstances compelled them to share at least a glimpse of their mission.
"Although we're under no obligation to reveal our mission details by the orders of Rev-Council, I can say that stopping this shipment would damage the counteroffensive the Infernalists are preparing," The rebel leader finally revealed, choosing their words carefully.
The Exorcist considered the information. The rebels had disclosed just enough to hint at the significance of their mission, and with the honor of trust, he would reveal his part.
"One of Ars Goetia's princes is here...and I'm here to eliminate him..." Rönne disclosed, his tone grave.
"Prince, huh?" The rebel leader murmured before nodding, "Well, it seems our goals intersect more than we anticipated. By the orders of Red Fury, we were told to link up with you and follow your orders."
"I see." Rönne inclined his head in acknowledgment, recognizing what that "Red Fury" exactly entails. "Have you done reconnaissance?"
"Yes, the train is filled with Militech mercenaries, and the path to the Locomotive will have resistance if we go guns blazing. Plus, there are a couple of full-on gun-nest carriages ahead of us."
"Don't forget we have the advantage of stealth. We should use it until the train reaches the ambush site." Rönne offered his wisdom as the Exorcist would then approach the door of their concealed space.
He slightly opened it, checking to see if the coast was clear for him to proceed. The dim light revealed the occasional Militech mercenary patrolling the area.
"Switch to an encrypted channel." Rönne instructed his voice barely above a whisper. "And wait for my command to attack. I'll clear the path for you in the meantime."
“Good luck, bud.”
The rebels switched to the encrypted channel, and Rönne silently slipped out of the concealed compartment and onto the flatcar, his movements melding with the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks. The cargo area was a labyrinth of crates and machinery, providing ample cover for the Exorcist to maneuver stealthily.
As he moved behind some crates, Rönne noticed two Militech mercenaries engaged in conversation. Their banter carried a tone of disdain, and the subject of their discussion soon became apparent.
"I don't trust that Morningstar woman." One of the mercenaries grumbled, eyeing the crates.
"Yeah, she's a fucking traitor, if you ask me." The other chimed in, disdain dripping from his words. "Helping sinners and all that...can't be good for business."
"And a real piece of work, that one." The first mercenary nodded in agreement. "Always got that fake smile plastered on her face. Bitch thinks she's some kind of savior of Hell."
"Makes me wonder how long until she is going to sell us to Heaven?"
"Does it really matter?" The other mercenary chuckled darkly. "Our so-called Kings of the Seven Deadly Sins don't give a damn about us. They're too busy playing their power games, leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves."
“Damm, right...Eh, I miss the time when I could have shot some rebels. Glad we’re back on the frontlines.”
“Me too, bud. Well, let’s get to the patrol. Don’t want our commander to see us standing.”
Their banter subsided, and the two mercenaries parted ways, each taking a different route for their patrol. Rönne waited patiently for the opportune moment to continue his progress through the train.
As one of the Militech mercenaries approached, Rönne seized the opportunity. He emerged from the cover, delivering a powerful kick to the unsuspecting mercenary. The force of the kick sent the Militech operative stumbling backward, teetering on the edge of the train.
"SHIT-SHI-" Caught off guard, the mercenary grappled for balance, but Rönne's strike proved too much. With a final push, the mercenary lost his footing and tumbled out of the train, disappearing into the darkness along the tracks. The sound of the impact was masked by the noise of the moving train.
Rönne retreated back into the cover of the crates, ensuring his presence remained hidden. The sudden disappearance of the Militech operative didn't go unnoticed by the others patrolling nearby.
"Damm, did he seriously fall off?! What a fucking moron!" The other mercenary wheezed out from that revelation.
The remaining mercenaries dismissed the incident as a momentary lapse, chuckling at their comrade's misfortune. Rönne utilized the distraction to move further along the flatcar, staying low and utilizing cover to remain undetected, dealing with the remaining Militech mercenaries one by one.
On his way, he passed at least five train compartments with ease, but as he approached the fully armored section, he noticed it locked tight. Since it was risky to breach open the fully armored compartment, knowing that there will be mercenaries. He opted for a different approach...He looked on the side of the train, seeing that there are some good gaps for him to climb.
"Wonderfull..." Rönne sighed, gathering courage to do it. And so, he jumped up, gripping his hand on the ledges and wall-climbing, hugging the side of the train while avoiding the eyes of mercenaries stationed in their machine gun nests.
Then a sudden metallic creak echoed near him. Startled, he froze for a moment, his grip tightening on the side of the train. The window hatch for the gunners' nest unexpectedly opened, revealing a pair of Militech mercenaries manning the heavy machine guns.
Without hesitation, The Exorcist descended a bit, shifting his position to avoid the direct line of sight from the open window. The mercenaries were oblivious to it. Instead, The Exorcist overheard the conversation among the mercenaries stationed in the gunner's nest.
"Make sure those machine guns are ready. We're about to hit the main tunnel!"
"Tunnel?" Rönne repeate d as he cast a glance ahead...and indeed he saw a large train tunnel looming in the distance. The entrance was adorned with a weathered sign that read:
"DANGER, YOU'RE ABOUT TO ENTER LIMBO. CEASE YOUR FUCKERY!"
"Oh, great." Rönne cursed under his breath. Despite the warning sign, he knew he had little choice but to navigate through the tunnel if he wanted to reach the front of the train. Hence, Rönne tightened his grip on the side of the armored compartment.
The moment the train plunged into the tunnel, the environment shifted drastically. The confined space echoed with the deafening noise of the train's movement, and the wind roared as if protesting against the intrusion.The occasional flashes of dim light within the tunnel revealed the rough, uneven walls rushing past. He had to anticipate each bend, adjusting his position to avoid collision.
Despite the extreme conditions and the ride through the dark tunnel, there is peculiar advantage in the lack of visibility. The absence of lights made it challenging for the mercenary stationed in the gun nest to have a clear view of the exterior. So In this moment, Rönne seized the opportunity to gain ground.
He climbed closer to the gun nest. The wind howled, drowning out any sound he might produce. As he reached the nest, he swiftly struck, smashing the unsuspecting mercenary's head against the mounted machine gun. He then grabbed the arm of that imp and tossed him aboard the speeding train.
Having successfully cleared the exterior gun nest, he climbed inside as a curious mercenary approached, likely checking on the status of the mounted machine gun.
"Everything okay up here?"
Before the mercenary could register the intruder, Rönne acted by tossing the blessed knife. The knife found its mark, piercing the mercenary's throat. A choked gasp escaped the mercenary's lips as he crumpled to the floor, the alarm silenced before it could be raised.
"Thanks, Aikaterine." Rönne muttered with a sad smile as he retrieved his blessed knife, wiping it clean on the fallen mercenary's uniform. He activated the encrypted channel to communicate with the rebels. "This is Exorcist Deadeye. The path to the armored compartment is mostly clear. You'll have to make your way through from there. Be cautious; there might still be a few mercenaries left. I'll proceed forward with my objective."
"Acknowledged. We'll assume positions in the armored compartment and await the signal for the ambush. Move swiftly and may Imperious' luck be with you."
"Yeah...thanks." Rönne awkwardly responded, not used to hearing that from a demon. But he closed the channel, as it was important he not delay himself with his mission. There are still a lot of train compartments left for him...
But when has it stopped Azrael's finest before?
Hell/In the Tunnels that Connect Pride and Limbo
Meanwhile, the Hazbin Gang and the members of I.M.P, along with Octavia and Olivia, found themselves gathered in one of the relatively spacious compartments of the train. Prior to Alastor revealing his presence, Charlie asked what Millie and Moxxie are doing with their job; now Charlie listened attentively to the whole story of I.M.P as Moxxie recounted the tale of his time in I.M.P.
"And then I met Blitz in prison, " made the greatest escape of all time " by his own words, and...well here I am." Moxxie started, a wry smile forming on his face as he glanced at sleeping Millie. "It's funny how fate throws you curveballs, isn't it?"
"To be honest, I can't imagine him being confined anywhere." Charlie looked up from her notebook. From what Moxxie said about Blitzø, she is sure that it didn't pass even a week before he escaped with Moxxie.
Moxxie chuckled. "Believe it or not, your majesty, he was quite an imp even when I met him. We had our differences at first, but we found common ground quickly...mostly in the form of wanting to get the heaven out of there."
"What landed you both in prison in the first place?"
Moxxie sighed, not wanting to talk about the bullshit Chaz caused for two of them. "Botched robbery attempt for me, your majesty. Blitzø... well, he was a frequent guest in the prison cells. But anyway, that's how I became part of I.M.P. The rest is history."
"Very interesting." Charlie's smile faded slightly as she glanced out of the compartment window, her thoughts momentarily drifting away. When she spoke again, her tone carried a hint of concern. "I have to admit, Moxxie, I'm not a fan of what you and your boss are doing with your business. The whole assassination thing...it's not a solution to the problems of Hell."
Moxxie sighed, acknowledging Charlie's perspective out of respect for her. "I get it, your majesty. It's a messy business, and it's not for everyone... but sometimes you're left with limited choices."
"But why did you decide to stick with Blitzø in the end? It sounds like you had your fair share of disagreements and...abuse." Charlie posed a question to Moxxie.
Moxxie paused for a moment, reflecting on the question. "Like I said: It's not like I had many choices, your majesty. Killing is the only thing I've ever known, and I was good at it. I grew up in a rough...family, and I ended up doing things I'm not proud of. When Blitzø offered me a way out, a chance to put my skills to use in a different way, I took it. It might not be the best path, but it's the only one I've got."
As Moxxie finished his explanation, a contemplative silence settled over the compartment. Charlie leaned back in her seat, thoughtful. After a brief moment, she looked at Moxxie and posed a serious question
"You know, the Hotel that I'm running is always in need of capable individuals. If you ever decide that you're looking for a change, a bit more quietness, we could use someone with your skills."
"Really?" Moxxie raised an eyebrow.
"Just an offer. I'm not forcing you, Mr. Mox."
"Well...maybe, your majesty." Moxxie glanced at sleeping Millie and sighed before responding, "But I'll keep it in mind. It does sound appealing, but...again I'm happy with where I currently am."
"Well, well, well! Moxxie, my good fellow, turning down the charming hospitality of the Hazbin Hotel...or has my delightful company with Niffty and Husk did not satiate our dear princess enough?" Alastor's tone was light, infused with his characteristic joviality.
"Oh, come on, Al." Charlie responded with a smile. "I greatly appreciate what Husk and Niffty have done. They've been invaluable members of the hotel. But I've always believed that expansion is inevitable. It's just a matter of time before we grow..."
"Blitzø once said that too..." Moxxie muttered, remembering how in the early days Blitzø wanted more than just Loona, Moxxie and Millie....who really knows if that idea was scrapped or not.
Ping
"Attention all Militech personnel: we are, uh, about to enter the Ring of Limbo and uhh...my recommendation is to put the seat belts on."
"Well...shit." Shmucks complained, knowing where it's going.
"Seat belts on a train?" Moxxie raised an eyebrow. "What for? We're not on a plane..."
A few compartments away, Rönne inched closer to his target, climbing onto the rooftop of the fuel tank compartment. The view revealed a horrifying sight: the train was approaching a railroad section resembling a rollercoaster.
"What did I do to deserve this?" Rönne cursed, gripping the rail.
The train ascended to the top of the roller coaster, then plunged down the twisted tracks with gravity-defying speed. Startled yells echoed through the compartments as Moxxie and his companions, as well as the Militech personnel, were caught off guard by the adrenaline-pumping experience.
"I signed up for a train, not a damn amusement park ride!" Moxxie screamed, clinging to his seat in desperation.
"You didn't read the print, did you, friend?" Shmucks yelled back to Moxxie, still gripping his seat.
The Hazbin Gang, I.M.P members, and others shared nervous screams as the train twisted and turned along the rollercoaster-like tracks. Octavia, Loona, and Olivia held onto each other.
Alastor and Millie remained composed. Millie slept peacefully, undisturbed, and Alastor observed the antics with amusement, finding entertainment from their screams.
Rönne struggled to stay on the train, nearly falling multiple times and he cursed under his breath with each near miss. The rollercoaster ride eventually ended as the train returned to normal tracks.
"Whew!" Rönne sighed in relief, standing up. "Glad that's over-Oh, you've got to be KIDDING ME!"
Despite the rollercoaster climax, the train now approached a section of destroyed tracks.
"This is not how I imagined my day!" Moxxie clung desperately to his seat, concern replacing his earlier sarcasm.
As the train reached the destroyed tracks, it seemed destined for a catastrophic derailment. However, the damaged tracks acted as a makeshift ramp, propelling the train into the air. A collective gasp filled the compartment as the train soared through the air in a leap.
"UNHOLY FUCK!" Moxxie screamed, his body already airborne.
The train landed with a jolt on the intact section of the railroad tracks beyond the destroyed segment. The impact rattled the compartments, slamming passengers against the floor or objects. However, the train remained on course.
"Ugh...Wha?!" Millie woke up from the sudden shake, annoyed. "Ugh, why can't anyone properly handle trains these days? This is ridiculous."
"Well, that was quite the unexpected thrill for today, wouldn't you say?" Alastor's amusement remained after all of that.
"Thrill is not exactly the word I'd use, Mr. Radio Demon." Moxxie, still gripping his seat and shaking like a madman, muttered under his breath,
"Can't say I expected a roller coaster on a train today." Husk at this point had abandoned his attempt at mid-air alcohol catching.
Charlie, Octavia, Loona, and Olivia were coping with the experience in their own ways. Charlie, now found herself caught between relief and mild amusement....guess you learn something from Alastor.
"Well, that was unexpected," Charlie remarked, sharing a glance with Octavia. "Are you okay, Via?"
"I just witnessed all of my life pass through my eyes..." Octavia mustered a few sentences, going silent once more. Both Olivia and Octavia gripped each other as if their lives depended on it.
"Oh, come on, Tavi." Loona couldn't help but smirk. "Beats the boring palaces. Right, Oli?"
No response came from the Lady-In-Waiting, who is completely entranced by the looks of it.
"Olivia?" Loona nudged Olivia.
“Oh, uhh-yeah!” The Lady-In-Waiting snapped back to reality, she blinked rapidly, processing the abrupt turn of events. Uh... I think I left my spirit somewhere back there...see you back in a bit."
Olivia then got up and just...left them for some fresh air.
"Can't blame her..." Octavia whispered, deciding to allow it.
Shmucks with Killbane and the rest of the Militech personnel exchanged relieved expressions. Although there is still plenty of time before they would arrive at Little Limbo, they at least can now relax and enjoy being off-duty for a while...it's not like this train would be attacked anytime. Militech made sure that it's secured and well-prepared for everything...
"Hey, folks, how about a game of Goetian poker?" Shmucks suggested. "Nothing like a bit of gambling to shake off the adrenaline, right?"
"You son of a bitch, I'm in!" Husk energetically got up so quickly that Charlie couldn't even protest his decision.
"I'm not against some good old poker," Moxxie chimed. He looked at Millie for a moment, wondering if she was okay with that.
"Come on, you’re not a child to ask for my permission, Mox." Millie replied with a smal smirk, finding it cute. "Just make sure you don't lose enough money before the debt collectors come knocking on our door. We have to pay bills, after all."
"Right, noted." Moxxie gulped but chuckled nervously, "Thanks, hon."
Moxxie also joined the group with Husk, ready to try his luck at Goetian poker.
"Well, it seems only the true gentleman is left here with the lovely gals," Alastor chimed in
"Alastor, please, just shut up for today." Charlie dropped her head against the table with an sigh, already feeling tired of Alastor's antics
"Alright, then!" He said with a sly smile, going silent as if he had flipped a switch.
While the rest of her friends enjoyed their time, Olivia walked a few train compartments away, seeking solace in the cool breeze outside. She found a relatively quiet spot and took a moment to breathe, savoring the fresh air. Here, she noticed a Crow Sinner slowly making his way towards her. He looked utterly devastated.
Rönne approached Olivia, clutching his stomach. She observed him for a moment, her gaze moving up and down. A smirk formed on her face as she couldn't help but find him cute like that.
"Did you vomit, mister?" Olivia asked with a teasing tone.
"Y-yeah..." Rönne begrudgingly admitted. "I've never experienced anything like that before. Are all trains in Hell like this?"
"Definitely not..." Olivia replied with a playful grin.
"You seem surprisingly calm about all this." Rönne couldn't help but appreciate Olivia's casual demeanor in the midst of the unusual situation, despite his discomfort. "Not to mention with my presence over here."
"Pff, you Exorcists are too predictable these days." Olivia waved him off, glancing around the train to make sure no one was here. "Plus, my mistress told me everything already..."
"I see..." Rönne slowly said, already seeing that Phenex's beak could not keep it out from the others.
"Let's just say secrets are hard to keep in Hell," Olivia remarked, still leaning against the side of the train. "So, aside from the roller coaster ride, how's your trip to Limbo treating you so far?"
"As one can expect..." Rönne sighed as he glanced away before just shaking his head. "So...I assume you know why I'm here, right?"
"Not much of a roleplayer, huh?" Olivia smirked, placing a hand on her hip. "But fair enough. Yes, I'm aware of your purpose here, and you're in luck, actually. Gaap is spending most of his time in that recreational train compartment just a few blocks from us, probably gambling or something."
"Any risks?"
"Well, there is the Princess of Hell and Marquise Octavia with her bodyguards, so...yeah." Olivia shrugged at the end.
"Great...the literal Anti-Christ as my obstacle." Rönne sighed, seeing how much of a pain in the ass it will be to deal with Gaap. "And speaking of Marquise Octavia? Marquise Phenex asked me to...not hurt her."
"That's rather nice of her." Olivia considered Rönne's words for a moment before responding. "Well, Marquise Octavia is currently occupied with just...fighting the boredom. I doubt she'll be a direct obstacle for you at the moment. However, keep in mind that she's a fully trained Goetia. Crossing paths with her can be... complicated."
"Complicated is one way to put it regarding Ars Goetia." Rönne nodded thoughtfully.
"Smart guy." Olivia gave him an appreciative look. "Now, if you're planning to confront Gaap, you might want to wait until Octavia is less preoccupied. Luckily for you, I'm in a good mood, so I can distract her enough for you to deal with Gaap."
"How do you plan to distract her?"
"Oh, I have my ways," Olivia replied cryptically, with a grin. "Just make sure to take advantage of the opportunity when it arises. And remember, you didn't hear this from me. I can't be seen openly assisting you."
"You're playing a risky game," Rönne noted, "But I appreciate the help, really."
"What can I say, really? A girl does love to play dangerously every now and then." Olivia gave him a sly smile. "You know...knowing how your kind descend every year, and with me talking to one, it is...rather exotic, in a way."
"If you asked me a few years ago, I'd have found the idea ridiculous. Working with demons wasn't exactly...what I do in my field. But...now, I find myself doing it more often than not."
Olivia's smirk widened, clearly amused by Rönne's remark. Before she could respond, the Exorcist's attention was drawn to the subtle change in the surroundings. The tunnel grew darker and took on a greyish hue, signaling their imminent exit from the confined space.
"Looks like we're about to leave the tunnel," Rönne remarked, checking if his blessed revolver had the ammo. "Let me know when you're ready to create the distraction."
"Oh, you'll know. Good luck, Exorcist of Heaven...and do me a favor, make Gaap die in agony for me. One less cloaca in Ars Goetia."
Without further words, Olivia gestured for Rönne to move forward. He complied, making his way through the train compartment, navigating once more. Eventually, he would get himself to the train compartment that had stables for the horses. It was unguarded, so the coast was clear.
However, while passing through, with hell horses not even bothered by his presence, Rönne noticed one of Hell's horses, particularly a horse named Bombproof. The horse became agitated at the presence of an Exorcist, sensing the inherent threat and slamming its hooves against the floor.
"He is here...." Rönne muttered as he glanced at the horse, not surprised by it. Some part of him felt that he will be here...this mission has become even more complicated.
As the train steadily emerged from the dark confines of the tunnel, the passengers, including Charlie, Octavia, and their companions, couldn't help but notice a gradual shift in the environment before the train completely exited the tunnel, revealing the vast and surreal landscape...
The Ring of Limbo is finally upon them.
As the train emerged from the tunnel into the surreal expanse of Limbo. Unlike the vivid and lively reds that characterized the Pride Ring, Limbo manifested in a palette dominated by gloomy shades of grey.
Even on the first glance, the landscape of Limbo bore the scars of desolation and ravage by war. Clusters of dilapidated buildings echoed through the desolate landscape. The train passed by remnants of what might have been thriving communities, now reduced to ghost towns where only the echoes of the past lingered. Rusty vehicles were scattered like forgotten relics of a Ring that had long lost its way....it felt like Limbo had its own apocalypse that left the new Limbo in ruins.
Even on the first glance, the vast expanse of Limbo seemed to stretch endlessly, a testament to the absence of any thriving civilization for miles around. It was a world frozen in a perpetual state of abandonment, where the only signs of life were the occasional demonic creatures that prowled the desolate plains.
And Devil only knows what secrets Limbo might store here.
"Well, well, well. Quite the dreary place, isn't it? Makes you wonder what delightful mysteries it hides beneath its desolate exterior." Alastor commented, finding it curious.
"I’, more glad that I'm finally here, Alastor." Charlie couldn't help but mutter to herself, observing the desolate landscape of Limbo as the train pressed forward. She had heard countless stories, tales that described Limbo as the "Wonderland of Hell." Yet, the reality before her was nothing but an expanse of dread and sorrow. Even the air felt heavy
"Huh, looks like shit...isn't this place like for unbaptized infant sinners or something? Millie pondered, still holding a cup of tea in her hands. Even here she felt there was something...off with this land.
"No, that's not the case." Olivia's voice could be heard as she returned to their compartment, offering an apologetic smile. "Limbo has always been a borderland, a far reach from the rest of Hell's rings. To Ars Goetia, this land is an anomaly. Here, we often feel weaker and less magically potent."
"Why is that, Olivia?" Octavia questioned, inrigued by what Olivia knows.
"In some of my university classes, we touched on the history of Hell, my lady. The prevailing theory is that Limbo might be a remnant of the Pre-Hell era. When the Fallen Angels were cast down from Heaven, this land might have been spared, retaining elements of its original state...that's why it feels different, like a piece of Hell frozen in time, with echoes of what once was."
"is it just me, or does this ring feel...different in a way?" Charlie inquired, her tone laced with a sense of unease. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's like there's this undercurrent of dread and misery."
"It's a normal sensation, my lady.” Olivia glanced at Charlie with a reassuring smile. “Many describe Limbo as the land of reflections. Once you step into its boundaries, you start to perceive things differently, and it changes you. The very essence of Limbo has a way of amplifying emotions, drawing out the hidden aspects of a demon's nature."
"What do you mean, 'changes you'?" Curiosity flickered in Charlie's eyes.
"Well, from what has been described by researchers, Limbo has a unique way of showing demons their true selves," Olivia explained. "Even Lady Phenex, alongside Marquis Marchosias, my father Duke Focalor and Count Bifrons have all ventured into Limbo in their lives. Each of them has spoken about how the land has a way of revealing aspects of themselves they never knew existed. There are many theories, but most follow the idea from the Diabolical States. They believe that this ring is where the presence of the Devil himself is nearly absent. It's as if Hell's sovereign influence wanes in this Ring, giving an environment where demons are left to confront their true selves without the immediate influence of our Dark Lord. Then there is- "
As Olivia spoke, Charlie felt an odd sensation creeping over her. It was as if the air around her became thicker, and the very essence of Limbo started to press against her senses. Many times, she felt like she couldn't keep her eyes open, and a strange fatigue overcame her.
Then, abruptly, everything on the train stopped. It was as if time itself had frozen in place, leaving Charlie in a suspended moment. She glanced around, realizing that her companions were frozen in motion, caught in the same temporal stasis. And just in front of her seat, there he stood, the Devil himself.
"The time has finally come for us to speak once more."
In real life, however, Charlie found herself drifting into an unexpected slumber before simply falling asleep. Everyone noticed, with Millie finding it adorable.
"Would you look at that? The princess is taking a nap," Millie remarked in awe.
"She is quite the special one, isn't she?" Alastor chuckled, for he has to agree with Millie. "And Looks like the princess needs a proper place to rest."
Alastor decided to take matters into his own hands, and he rose from his seat. He effortlessly scooped her up. Charlie remained peacefully unaware. With that, he carried the sleeping Charlie to a more comfortable spot in the room shared by her, Loona, and Octavia. Gently placing her down on the bed, he ensured she was in a position to rest undisturbed, tugging the cover sheet just for her.
"Sweet dreams, my dear," Alastor remarked, his tone oddly sincere. With that, he left the room, leaving Charlie to sleep peacefully.
Alastor made his way through the compartments. The rhythmic clatter of the train's wheels against the tracks accompanied his contemplative thoughts. However, it wasn't long before his attention was drawn upward.
Stopping in his tracks, Alastor looked up. His eyes fixed on the distant planet with a conspicuous halo above it. The celestial body, once a distant presence in the Pride Ring, now loomed significantly closer in the desolate expanse of Limbo.
There was a certain tranquility in the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels against the tracks that resonated with him. It took him back to a time when he was mortal, when trains were the epitome in the good old 1910s. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the rhythmic beats of the tracks beneath them, Alastor couldn't help but feel a peculiar detachment, a sentiment that lingered like a phantom from his distant past.
...
"Look, Al. Deer!"
In a flash, the scene around him transformed into a sepia-toned memory of Texas in 1914. Alastor, or rather, young Al, a seven-year-old boy with a mop of unruly hair, sat by the window of a rattling train.
"Al, look at those deers runnin' in the wilderness. Ain't it a sight?" Next to him, Al’s father pointed the finger at the passing deer group.
"Wow!" Young Alastor pressed his face against the train window, eyes widening with awe as the untamed beauty of Texas. “Look at them go!"
"Nature's wonders, my boy," Darnell said, ruffling Al's hair affectionately. "Better than Louisiana's bayous full of alligators, huh?"
"Alligators are cute, though." Young Alastor giggled, the innocence of childhood shining through.
"Sure...unless they try to eat you on sight..." Darnell awkwardly chuckled, though he rubbed his neck, not fond of those memories. "Did your mother ever tell you? She had to fight off three alligators at a time while I was...unavailable."
"Mom said you screamed the whole time."
"Well, I-I tried to scare them off!" Darnell stammered a bit. "Um, Alligators, they're scared of loud noises, you see."
"Yeah, right." Young Alastor giggled. "So, alligators are the reason why you're not around with me and Mom often, Dad?"
Darnell awkwardly gulped, his eyes avoiding direct contact with his son. He nervously played with his fingers, searching for the right words. Finally, he sighed and mustered the courage to respond.
"Did you enjoy your time with me in Beaumont?"
"Yeah!" Young Alastor's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "But why couldn't Mom come with us? I bet she'd love it too."
Darnell's gaze softened, a fond smile replacing the tension, but there was a hint of regret in his eyes.
"Your mom...she...well, she really wanted you and me to spend time together, so she...remained back home."
"Oh..." Young Alastor absorbed his father's words, even though there was discomfort. It's pretty clear to Darnell that he really wanted Nädege to come, and Darnell didn't feel like a genuine "parent" to Alastor.
"Al..." Darnell, undeterred by the discomfort, continued. "Believe me when I say I wish I could be with you more often. You mean the world to me. No matter where I am...you're always in my heart."
Young Alastor's gaze softened as he met his father's eyes. The honesty in Darnell's words felt surreal and charming...
"See?" Darnell chuckled, seeing how Alastor's lips formed a genuine smile. "Remember what your mom and I said: 'Always smile. You're never a fully dressed gentleman without one!'"
And here it became evident. Though Alastor had inherited many traits from his mother, it was equally apparent that he learned manners and charm from his father, Darnell Leblanc. And later in his life, only thanks to his father did Alastor find some success...until he didn’t.
Darnell, who had been gazing out of the train window, suddenly looked up with horror etched across his face.
"What's wrong, Dad?" Young Alastor, sensing the change, asked him.
Darnell, visibly shaken, placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder and said, "Al. Whatever happens, it will be alright, okay? Just stay calm."
It was abrupt to him, for he didn’t remember what happened next....only echoes of screams, shouts, arguing...and this.
GUNSHOT
"NO, PAPA!"
Alastor snapped his eyes open and found himself back in the reality of present-day Hell. His lips curled into a sardonic smile as he reflected on the memories that had just unfolded.
With a final, disdainful chuckle, Alastor dismissed the haunting memories that had surfaced. He adjusted his bowtie with a flick of his fingers. The echoes of the past were but fleeting memories, and he had no intention of letting them linger.
"Ah, the sentimentalities of youth. One mustn't dwell on the past too long; it's a tiresome exercise...I suppose I've dallied enough in this nostalgic reverie."
With a graceful stride, he made his way towards the exit, leaving memories behind....and not noticing an interloper among them. Just as he passed the restroom, whistling a tune, a subtle figure emerged from it, slipping out quietly as Alastor passed by.
Rönne checked if the coast was clear before proceeding forward. As he opened the door to the next compartment, checking behind him just in case...and here he would stumble upon his first obstacle. In an unfortunate twist of fate, Rönne accidentally collided with Marquise Octavia.
"Watch where you're going, you oaf! Can't you see I'm walking here?" Octavia scolded, irritation evident in her voice.
Rönne chose not to respond and kept his focus on Olivia, who stood by Octavia.
"Don't fret, my lady. I'm sure this Sinner didn't mean any harm. He seems a bit sloppy, but what can you expect from Gaap's own hired bodyguards?" Olivia, seeing that it's her part to play along, spoke up on the Exorcist's behalf.
"Gaap's bodyguard, huh?" Octavia shot a disapproving look at Rönne, clearly unimpressed and...distrustful of him. "Well, he better not get in my way. I don't need any more nuisances from Gaap."
"Trust me, your majesty. I won't be any nuisance to you...Gaap included." Rönne spoke enigmatically and coldly. He would tip his hat in respect before just proceeding forward, leaving Octavia very confused.
"Huh...since when did Gaap begin to hire Sinners?" Octavia pondered to herself, suspicion growing about the motivations behind the presence of this particular sinner.
"Well, my lady, perhaps Gaap's father is getting desperate and hired anyone willing to work for him. You know how some Sinners are, always looking for an opportunity, no matter how messy it might be." Olivia decided to provide an explanation that would quell any doubts.
"Hmm, you might have a point there." Octavia, although still skeptical, found Olivia's reasoning logical. "I suppose he's just scraping the bottom of the barrel for assistance."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, as mortals say." Olivia replied with a reassuring smile, her eyes concealing the truth behind the façade. "And speaking of desperate measures. We should not waste our time and just be done with your pedicure. A marquise's claws must look as perfect as they can be."
With that, Octavia followed Olivia back to their room, leaving the corridor behind. Meanwhile, Rönne continued his discreet journey through the train, arriving at the recreational room where Moxxie, Husk, Shmucks, and Killbane were engaged in a poker game. The demons were seated around the round table, cards in hand, and a pile of poker chips in the middle.
The three hellborn and one sinner placed their bets and the cards were dealt. Husk shuffled the cards and flicked them to the rest while others placed the bets.
"Looks like luck is on my side today." Moxxie chuckled, looking at his cards.
"Don't get too cocky, kid. Luck's a fickle thing." Husk grumbled, unimpressed by it. Only once did he glance at his cards and that was it...playing with him is going to be difficult.
Rönne watched silently, leaning against the wall. He knew he had to remain inconspicuous and not draw attention to himself. The poker game provided the perfect cover for his discreet state...just an observer, admiring the poker game, that's all.
"So, Shmucks, right?" Moxxie glanced at Shmucks, placing his bet on the table. "What's it like working inside Greed's biggest corporation?"
"Well, I've only been there for a few days. It's... meh." Shmucks checked his cards for his round, slowly shaking his head in disappointment. "The usual corporate stuff, you know? They pay well, but the work's nothing special... that is, until they sent you to the frontlines."
"Nothing unusual there." Husk grumbled at Shmucks' words. "Corporate hellholes love that kind of shit, sending employees to the frontlines for the 'greater good' while they sit in their comfortable offices. It's all about profit at the end of day."
"Yeah..." Shmucks acknowledged what that sinner said. "Well, if the pay keeps coming, I'll play their game for a while. But I'm not blind to the fact that it's all a charade."
"Speaking of corporate charade." Moxxie glanced at Shmucks once more. "I saw Militech's CEO just before the train departed. My own boss wanted to tear his throat out."
"Really? I never saw my boss in my time here. We usually receive orders through intermediaries." Shmucks looked intrigued. He would make a slow pause, receiving a card from Husk before asking further. "What about you, Mr. Mox? What's it like working for I.M.P? I've heard it's quite a...interesting enterprise."
"Interesting" is an understatement. Moxxie smirked, rubbing the surface of his card as he spoke. "My boss manages to make mundane things very interesting in his unique way. Working at I.M.P is never boring....you will have to get used to it."
"Well, at least you have some excitement." Shmucks chuckled, considering Moxxie's words. "Alright, let's see how this game turns out."
Just in time, Husk dealt the final cards, the demons revealing their hands. To everyone's surprise, Husk emerged victorious with a blackjack deck.
"As expected, luck's a bit more than fickle today." Husk smirked, revealing his winning hand.
"I guess we should have seen that coming." Shmucks slammed his cards on the table, feeling that his pair of aces was a waste of time.
"Well played, Mr. Husk," Killbane conceded, collecting the cards and shuffling them for the next round. "Anyone up for another game, or are we calling it a night?"
Moxxie's eyes caught sight of Rönne, who was leaning against the wall, silently observing the poker game.
"Have you seen that guy before?" Moxxie questioned.
Shmucks looked back and noticed the distinct weapons on the Crow Demon. He whistled in admiration. For a Sinner, he sure does pack heat over there.
"Good Imperious, look at those beauties. Some would kill for weapons like those."
"Hmm...we might make him bet for them." Husk then called out to that Crow Sinner, "Hey, new guy, do you want to join us for a round of poker? Or are you just here for the show?"
Rönne pushed away from the wall and stepped in, making his way to an empty seat at the table.
"I don't mind a game," He took a seat at the table, his gaze surveying the demons around him. "Playing poker, right?"
"Yep, Poker it is," Moxxie responded, dealing out a new hand of cards. The game once more resumed
"So, new guy," Shmucks began, eyeing the arsenal on Rönne. "Those are some serious weapons you got there. Not your typical Sinner gear you can find in Pride Ring, even if you have to lick Carmine's cunt. What brings you on this train, armed to the teeth?"
"Let's just say I like to be prepared." Rönne offered a half-smile, trying to be cryptic. "From where I come, there is an old saying: "You never know when things might take an interesting turn during your hunt."
"You're a bounty hunter?" Moxxie asked.
"In a way...from one perspective." Rönne grabbed the new card, completely unfazed when he glanced at it...or he faked it; it's hard to tell.
The demons around the table exchanged intrigued glances. But ultimately, the game continued.
And just in time, Gaap finally made his appearance. The newly appointed prince entered the room, engrossed in a heated conversation with his father over the phone. Striker followed closely behind. The demons at the poker table noticed Gaap's arrival, but their attention quickly returned to the ongoing game. However, Rönne's face hardened as he glanced at Gaap, his hand inched closer to the grip of his revolver.
"What's the matter, new guy? You seem distracted." Husk looked up and noticed the holdup. "You holding a winning hand or something?"
"Sorry, mister. Just needed a moment." Rönne's gaze lingered on Gaap for a moment longer before he relaxed his grip on the revolver, preferring to wait for a better opportunity. "Let's keep the game going."
The demons resumed their poker game, oblivious to the silent confrontation that had transpired. Gaap, meanwhile, continued his conversation with his father on the phone.
"Yes, everything is going smoothly. The train is on schedule and in no time." Gaap assured, his tone confident. "Don't you worry, Solomon's book will be in my hands sooner or later. Grandpa Paimon will be so proud of me. See you later, pops."
Gaap ended the call, a sly smile playing on his beak. His attention then shifted to Striker, who had been standing by attentively. "You know, Striker. it's quite nice having a father who spoils you. Makes things a lot more interesting, doesn't it?"
"Uhuh, whatever you say, your majesty." Striker chose to remain calm, accustomed to Gaap's mockery. His eyes, however, flickered towards the poker game where Rönne sat. "Hmm...what a surprise."
Striker, chuckling to himself, decided to join the poker game, leaving Gaap to his own devices, as both of them don't exactly...enjoy company. As Striker approached the table, the demons glanced up, momentarily distracted from their cards.
"I see you're enjoying your time." Striker grinned, glancing up at Rönne for a second before back at Moxxie. "Mind if I join in?"
Moxxie glanced at Striker, narrowing his eyes in distrust, and gestured toward the empty seat next to him. "Sure, have a seat...but I expect you to bet well, though."
"Spoken like a true poker player, little fella." Striker pulled out a chair and sat down, eyeing the cards being dealt. Striker caught Rönne's gaze once more, the unspoken tension between the two...not to mention that Striker is blocking the clear view of Gaap from Rönne's point of view. The tension in the poker room escalated as Moxxie revealed his winning hand, claiming the pot for himself.
“Wooh, big pot! Come to your daddy!” A sly grin crept across Moxxie’s face as he collected the chips, enjoying the taste of victory.
"Looks like luck's favoring the little fellas tonight," Striker chuckled, acknowledging Moxxie's win. "But how about we make things more interesting for the next round? What do you say, my friends.?"
"What's your proposal, lizard?" Husk raised an eyebrow, eager to hear it.
"Well, in the good ol' Wrath Ring, we had a tradition. To make sure everyone plays fair, we lay our weapons on the table. Just a precaution, you know?" He glanced at Rönne once more, a strong grin. "Can't trust everyone to play a clean game."
Killbane and Shmucks, familiar with the custom, immediately placed their Militech weapons on the table. Moxxie with a sigh, also laid down his Carmine-Crafted Blessing-Tipped Rifle. When that Exorcist saw it, his expression froze, and even an eye twitched before his gaze was fixed on Moxxie.
"Where did you get that rifle, imp?" Rönne's tone turned passive aggressive.
"Got it as a gift from me, didn't you, Moxxie?" Striker, slapped Moxxie on the back, intervening before things could escalate. "This fella here deserves to have such a fine weapon in his hands."
"Yeah..." Moxxie slowly said, slightly pushing Striker away. "Now, let's not get all worked up. We're just here for a friendly game, right?"
"Yeah, we're here to play a friendly game..." Striker once more shot a glare in Rönne's direction. "Aren't we, my dear sinner friend?"
Rönne laid his own revolver on the table. Seeing it in full view made Shmucks whistle again in admiration once more. It’s custom for sure and looks like a pure one straight from Heaven and not a Carmine’s bootleg. Interesting, what did that Sinner done to get that beauty?
"Your rifle too, friend." Striker again sounded passive-aggressive at Rönne.
"If I try to reach it, you would be faster anyway." Rönne neutrally said, giving a cold stare at Striker. "You know that yourself...Striker."
"Yeah...I know that." Striker's grin turned into a death stare, with both cowboys exchanging very tense stares.
"Alright, so what are we playing, lizard?" Husk, puzzled by the sudden change in atmosphere, decided to break the silence.
Striker reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of Uno cards and laid them on the table....very interesting choice for a poker game.
"Uno?" Husk raised an eyebrow, exchanging bewildered glances with the others.
"Even kid's games can be fun, fellas. Let's just say this one can be...rewarding."
Confusion painted the faces of the demons, unsure of what Striker had in mind. Nevertheless, since they are playing with money, they decided to go along with it.
The Uno cards were shuffled by Striker before handing the deck to Rönne.
"You're dealing,... my old friend."
Rönne, showing his disdain with silence, tossed the Uno cards onto the table, starting the game.
"Oh, come on, Sinner, don't be shy. It's just a friendly game," Striker teased, playing a card with a grin. "Maybe your silent approach works in poker, but in Uno, you gotta speak up,"
Rönne played his cards, paying no heed to Striker's attempts to unsettle him.
Meanwhile, the train continued its journey through the desolate wasteland of Limbo. The locomotive driver was engrossed in a magazine, unaware. It was only by accident that he looked up and saw a colossal problem...an enormous pile of rocks blocking the passage for the train.
"Oh, fuck me!" Cursing loudly, the driver slammed on the brakes, bringing the train to an abrupt halt.
"What in Satan's name is going on?" Moxxie exclaimed, the sudden stop catching everyone off guard.
“Might ask our friend over here." Striker pointed a teasing finger at Rönne. "
"Bold of you to assume I'm responsible for that." Rönne shot Striker a cold gaze, his silence intensifying the air of mystery that surrounded him.
The demons exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of whether Striker was making a joke or if there was more to the situation.
"Oh, but it does, my dear friend." Striker, sensing the need for clarification, leaned back in his chair. "Moxxie, let me introduce you to our silent friend over here. This is none other than 'Deadeye,'"
"Deadeye?" Moxxie questioned, narrowing his eyes at Rönne. The Sinner's features darkened, a silent confirmation to Moxxie's question.
"That's right." Striker chuckled, laying down some of his cards on the table. "Our new friend here didn't just stumble upon this train for no reason, oh no. Sinners...or quote on quote "Sinners" like him are well-known hunters....and so, you might wonder who his target is this time..."
Striker reached for the Uno card deck and drew a card, revealing a reverse card. A victorious grin spread across his face as he silently whispered.
"Something-something, Prince Gaap, hmm?"
"Or even miss Octavia?"
Now that they are aware of the true identity of their mysterious companion, the rest of the group eyed Rönne with wariness, with Shmucks and Killbane slowly grabbing their guns from the table.
Rönne laid all the Uno cards on the table, displaying a wry smirk. His gaze locked onto Striker, a silent acknowledgment.
"You're quite smart for a lone bounty hunter, imp. You would have been a fine collaborator if you were working with us ." Rönne remarked in respect for Striker’s skills.
But that turned out to be a ruse, as he used the momentum to snatch his revolver from the table, his movements mirrored by Striker. The demons around them held their breath as the two figures faced each other, revolvers drawn in a classic Wild West standoff.
Moxxie and Husk also rose to their feet, with the freckled imp gripping his blessed-tipped rifle, aiming it at Rönne. His gaze, however, shifted between the mysterious Sinner and Striker, ensuring that the barrel of his rifle was not far away from Striker.
The other Militech personnel raised their weapons, creating a defensive perimeter around Gaap. The prince himself, who had been occupied with his own thoughts, looked around in confusion, wondering what happened.
"Hey, what in Belial's name is going on here? Can you plebs seriously not play your poker without someone getting killed?"
Everyone seemed indifferent to the Gaap's remark. Shmucks and Killbane maintained their defensive positions, ready to intervene if the situation spiraled out of control, while the Militech personnel stood firm, protecting their prince. Amidst the standoff, Rönne's eyes caught a detail. Striker held a pair of Rönne's old revolvers, while Moxxie had the rifle that was given...by her.
"I see you're still keeping my revolvers around you." Rönne remarked, his gaze shifting between the two imps.
"You bet." Striker responded proudly, "Thanks to these beauties, I wouldn't be here today. They served me well as I rose with infamy. You made me, Deadeye. And now, it's time to settle that old score... I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, old friend."
Moxxie remained silent. He didn't trust anyone in the room, especially in the midst of this. Husk, although, was closer to him, with a bottle as his weapon of choice.
Back at the locomotive, the driver scratched his head as he pondered any solutions to their current problem, not noticing how one of the mercenaries moved up to him.
"Why did we stop?"
"A damn pile of rocks blocking the path." The driver pointed ahead, irritated.
"Why not just ram through it?" The mercenary of Militech suggested.
The driver scoffed, "You're an idiot. Sure, we can, but we'd damage the engine. You want the train breaking down in the middle of nowhere?"
Before the mercenary could respond, he looked around, a sense of unease settling in as he heard something. His gaze focused on the distant thick forest, feeling that something was off
"Did you hear it? It sounded like - "
And then...A grenade landed at his feet.
"Unholy shit!" He managed to utter something, but before he could do anything, the grenade exploded, cutting his words short. The blast startled the mercenaries in the train compartment where the standoff between Striker and Rönne took place.
"What the fu-"
Before one of the Millitech mercenaries could finish, a bullet pierced through his head, dropping him lifeless to the ground. It made even Gaap gasp from how sudden it was...
"TAKE COVER, DEMONS!"
The command echoed through the train compartment as chaos ensued. Gunfire erupted and bullets whizzed through the air.
Amidst the mayhem, Rönne seized the opportunity and vaulted behind the bar for cover. Gaap, who was still caught in the crossfire, screamed in a cry of help. Rönne aimed his revolver, intending to eliminate the prince. However, in the flurry of bullets, one of the Militech mercenaries took the hit meant for Gaap, crumpling to the ground.
"FOCUS ON HIM!" Moxxie and Striker retaliated. They fired back at Rönne, seeking refuge behind overturned tables along with Shmucks and Killbane. The Militech personnel pinned Rönne down, suppressing him with a relentless barrage of bullets. The demons, now guided by Husk and a few others, seized the opportunity to leave their cover and evacuate Gaap to safety.
"Move, move, move, your majesty!" Shmucks shouted, ushering Gaap away from the line of fire and escorting him out safely.
Striker and Moxxie with Shmucks and Killbane quickly joined the effort, providing cover as they successfully escorted Gaap out of the train compartment, leaving the rest of Militech to deal with that "sinner".
Behind the bar, Rönne remained in cover. Bringing his finger to his earset, he opened the channel.
"I.R.A, this is Operative "Deadeye." Prince Gaap of the Ars Goetia is trying to escape. Apprehend the prince. Shoot on sight," Rönne commanded with a cold and determined tone.
"Acknowledged, should be an easy target now that the ambush is ongoing. We will report if we apprehend him."
"Good, carry on then." Rönne ended the channel. He then blind-fired at the mercenaries, killing at least one of them before he switched his communication channel to the Heaven's Overwatch. "Overwatch, this is Exorcist RS-XIX-14. Code 13-51 has been compromised. I repeat, Code 13-51 has been compromised. Requesting full 'Judgement administration' onto demons, over."
"Unit RS-XIX-14, Judgement administration, is now under full effect. Capital persecution is discretionary. Code: contain, sweep, exterminate."
"Acknowledged, Overwatch. Persecuting." Rönne then ended the call. A sly smile curled on his lips as he muttered, "And this is where the fun begins."
Rönne left his cover, and his revolver barked. The first Militech mercenary fell without a chance to react. The Exorcist transitioned from the overturned table to the next with a quick slide across the polished floor with a precise shot to the head of another mercenary who dared to peek out of cover.
Most of Militech blind-fired as best they could since no one wanted to leave cover. Instead, as opportunity presented, Rönne vaulted over an overturned table. In midair, he took down another adversary, his revolver spitting lead. As he landed, he transitioned into a roll, evading the counterattack from the surviving mercenaries.
In a sequence of swift maneuvers, he gunned down two more mercenaries, their bodies crumpling to the floor. The room fell momentarily silent as the remaining Militech demons hesitated.
Meanwhile, Moxxie, Husk, Striker, Shmucks, Killbane, and Prince Gaap navigated the battleground outside the train. The forested area surrounding them erupted in gunfire, the mercenaries engaging an unseen foe. The group ducked and weaved, avoiding the onslaught as they guided Gaap to safety.
Bullets zipped through the air, striking the metal surfaces of the train and the ground. As they pushed forward, they stumbled upon Millie and Loona, taking cover behind the train compartment.
"Moxxie!" Millie exclaimed in joy, rushing to hug him.
"Millie, thank Satan you're fine!" Moxxie returned the embrace, relieved to see her. "Where's Marquise Octavia? Is she safe?"
"She's with Alastor and Charlie." Millie gestured a couple of train blocks away. "We should join them, hon. it's not safe out here."
"Nowhere will be safe until this damn train starts moving again," Shmucks added, his eyes darting to the forest where the unseen assailants lurked. "These bastards won't dare to attack us in New Limbo."
"Then it’s settled." Husk announced. "Since I'm the only one here who has some experience in forest warfare, I'm going to start the train while A-Team over here will regroup with the Princess and that child. Anyone brave enough to join me?"
"Count me in, sinner." Shmucks checkedthe ammo inside his gun. Killbane also nodded.
"Be careful out there." Moxxie nodded, still ducking his head from the fire.
"Don't worry, little imp. We'll be back before you know it." Husk gave a casual salute.
As Husk, Shmucks, and Killbane moved towards the locomotive, Moxxie and Striker led the remaining group in search of the room where Charlie was supposed to be. Eventually, they found the designated room.
Moxxie took the lead, entering first, only to be greeted by a swift and unexpected blow. Olivia, wielding a frying pan, delivered a powerful hit directly to Moxxie's face. The impact caused him to collapse, surprised and disoriented.
"Nice one, Oli!" Loona couldn't help but chuckle at the scene.
“OW!” Moxxie, rubbing his face in pain, shot a glance at Olivia. "What the heaven was that for, Miss Olivia? We're on the same side!"
"Oh, Sorry. Can't be too careful, Mr. Knolastname." Olivia shrugged nonchalantly, lowering the frying pan.
Octavia, who had been coping with the situation, looked up at the newcomers in complete worry.
"Where have you all been?"
"Playing poker on this Devil-forsaken train. Won't be doing that again anytime soon." Moxxie replied with a deadpan look, still nursing his sore face. The freckled imp couldn't help but notice Alastor, casually sipping tea in a corner. Charlie was still sleeping nearby...for some reason. "Why is the Princess still sleeping?"
"I've tried everything, from magic to just giving her a good slap, but she won't wake up." Octavia glanced at Charlie. "It's like she's in a coma or something."
"Oh, miss Octavia, you're forgetting the most crucial fact." Alastor chuckled softly, taking a sip. "Charlie simply needs her beauty sleep. We all can be peculiar that way. Don't question it; it's just one of her little quirks."
"Wonderfull..." Moxxie sighed, realizing that they were now in a dire situation. "So, our majesty is sleeping. The rebels are about to capture this train, and now the Crow Demon assassin wants to kill us...just great."
"Ah, so he was an assassin too?!" Octavia was baffled, giving a an "you told me it will be fine!" look at Olivia before back at Moxxie, complaining further. "I should have known better than to trust that demon to be Gaap's bodyguard. Too suspicious he was, Spirit damn it!"
"What did you just say? I would NEVER hire a Sinner to guard even if my life depends on it!" Gaap couldn't contain his anger when he overheard Octavia's words. Ever since this battlefield started, his earlier smugness vanished, replaced by a distinct sense of distress.
“This is all your fault, marquise! If you hadn't been too stupid, we wouldn't be in this mess. Now, look at us, caught in the middle of a war zone, and you can't even wake up the damn princess!"
"Excuse me?" Octavia raised an eyebrow, taken aback by Gaap's sudden outburst. To say she was riled up is an understatement.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Marquise Octavia. Did I just stutter in front of you?!" Gaap retorted, sarcasm dripping from his words before going full serious. "As a Prince of Ars Goetia and me being higher in rank than you, I demand that you fix this situation! You got us into this mess, and now it's your responsibility to get us out of it!"
"Well, forgive me, "your Majesty", for not having the foresight to predict an ambush and a Crow Demon assassin on a train ride!" Octavia retorted, her frustration matching Gaap's. "I've done everything I can to keep Princess Charlie safe, but you seem to have a penchant for making situations worse. How about I use you as a meat shield for the fuckers outside, huh!?"
"W-why-you!" Gaap's eyes flared with anger at Octavia's words. "You have your orders, marquise. Fix this situation immediately!"
"FINE!" Octavia finally had enough of Gaap's behavior, storming away as she summoned her grimoire. "Loonie, Two M's and Mr. dad killer over there. You're coming with me! Olivia, stay here and safeguard our majesty."
"What about Mr. Radio Demon?" Moxxie asked.
"My apologies, my short fellow. But I promised our dear princess to be a good servant today...it would not be very nice of me to break that promise, would it?"
Moxxie shot a disapproving look at the grinning demon. With a sigh, he followed the rest of the group as they trailed Octavia, leaving Alastor to his tea and Gaap's irritated company. Alastor couldn't resist a comment to the Goetian demon.
"My, my, what a charming display of social you have, Prince Gaap. Surely you have a lot of friends with that attitude."
Gaap muttered the way he only knows.
"Shut it, pleb!"
Hell/Somewhere in Limbo Wasteland
The battlefield outside the train is still ongoing. The forces of I.R.A. pressed forward relentlessly and gained ground as more and more Militech mercenaries fell before their assault. The forest provided ample cover for the guerrilla fighters, complicating the situation for the mercenaries.
With the armored train compartments disabled by the Exorcist earlier, the I.R.A. rebels emerged from the thick foliage.
Appearance-wise, their makeshift armor was a patchwork assembly of various pieces that seemed scavenged from Exorcists of Heaven, with blessed weapons now in the hands of these rebels but repainted with the distinctive colors of the I.R.A.
The rebels moved with an unexpected coordination and proved formidable, managing to push forward and put up a commendable fight against the Militech forces.
Husk, flanked by Shmucks and Killbane, moved from cover to cover, engaging the I.R.A. forces. As they advanced, taking down opponents, Husk got himself into cover, shaking his head as he could not help the irony of it.
"Here I'm, fightin' against commies...what a fucking deja-vu." Husk remarked to himself, his words were punctuated by the crackle of gunfire.
"This is every Tuesday for Militech in Limbo, Sinner." Shmucks commented, calmly swapping his magazine as the firefight raged on. "Fucking rebels using foliage to jump on us. No honor in warfare whatsoever."
"Welcome to the rules of war 101, imp. Guerrilla warfare destroyed so many ambitions of Empires in the mortal world."
"Your rules don't apply to us, Sinner." Shmucks was busy firing at the rebels, who advanced forward, covering each other with blind fire.
"And yet here we are, fighting against rebels. Color me impressed." Husk hissed, reloading his rifle and getting one more kill. "I cover you, GO!"
Shmucks, and Killbane found themselves navigating once more through the battlefield, taking every possible cover on their way. Husk followed suit, taking down rebels with well-aimed shots and carefully timed maneuvers. Each member of the team covered the others as they progressed toward their ultimate goal: the locomotive.
Reaching to it, both Shmucks and Husk climbed up, as Killbane provided cover and remained on the ground for them to check the situation there.
The locomotive showed visible signs of wear and tear, thanks to the earlier explosion and the subsequent firefight. Despite the damage, the essential components seemed intact. The engine emitted sporadic rattles, but the overall structure appeared resilient. The real concern lay in its ability to withstand the impending impact with the pile of rocks that blocked its path.
"Shit, think it will run?" Shmucks commented as he walked up to the dead body of the locomotive driver, not much of that poor demon left.
"Oh, it will." Husk examined the damaged engine and assessed the situation. He then pointed ahead, where a pile of rocks blocked the train's path. "The engine took a hit, but it's not the biggest problem we have right now. We can't ram through that without risking more damage to the engine..."
"So, you're telling me we're stuck here?" Shmucks let out a frustrated growl. The last thing he needed was to be stuck here in Limbo Wasteland...with REBELS!!
"Maybe," Husk replied, eyeing the pile of rocks obstructing their path. He glanced around, searching for a solution to their predicament. Then, an idea struck him. "Unless we can improvise...what fuel does this locomotive use?"
"Standard Devilirium. Why?"
"Then we're going to need more Devilirium canisters to pour it directly into the engine. It'll burn hotter, increase the horsepower, and might give us a fighting chance to ram through those rocks."
"But what's the catch?" Shmucks raised an eyebrow, a skepticism on his face.
"I'm not an engineer, but it will probably overload the engine. There's a good chance the damn thing overheats and explodes." Husk explained, still cautious with his idea. "We're trading one problem for another, but right now, it might be our only shot. The longer we take, the more rebels we'll have on our tails."
"Are you out of your mind? We will be stuck here miles from New Limbo with no food or water. WE WILL PERISH HERE!" Shmucks exclaimed, disbelief painted across his face.
"In war, there's no glory without sacrifice, kid. Buckle up, corporate soldier. I'm going to make a run for it. Protect this damn locomotive while I fetch the canisters from the storage compartment. We don't have time to waste."
With that, Husk rushed towards the storage area, leaving Shmucks to guard the locomotive and provide the cover. The New Mercenary could not protest when he quickly ducked as rebels focused their fire on him.
Husk reached the storage compartment, scanning the shelves for the canisters containing Devilirium. The flickering light of the damaged bulbs above barely illuminated the cramped space. But regardless, he would find a dozen of them.
Just as he laid hands on the canisters, a chilling scream echoed behind him.
"INFERNALIST!"
Husk swiftly turned, his reflexes kicking in as he saw a knife’s blade going to his head. He leaned back, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. Reacting quickly, he attempted to deflect the blade, but the assailant proved agile, delivering a powerful kick that sent Husk crashing against the shelf. The impact spilled some Devilirium on the floor.
Standing over him was an I.R.A succubus, her eyes filled with malice.
"Your precious King of Pride won't save you, Sinner. Comrade Moxxara will come for you all, Infernalist scum!"
"Save your breath. I don't need him to deal with commies," Husk retorted, defiant.
The succubus lunged for another strike. Husk dodged, causing the blade to scratch the surface where the Devilirium had spilled. Instantly, the spilled Devilirium caught fire, engulfing the succubus in flames.
She screamed in agony as the flames consumed her. Husk watched coldly as the I.R.A succubus burned alive. The fire rapidly consumed her before she dropped dead, leaving behind only charred remnants and the pungent stench of burning flesh.
"That takes care of cremation." Husk muttered, unfazed by the gruesome sight. He quickly collected the Devilirium canisters as the storage compartment engulfed into flames.
Making his way through the growing blaze, Husk returned to the locomotive, where Shmucks stood guard, still firing back at the rebels with Killbane. As Husk approached, Shmucks glanced at the canisters and raised an eyebrow.
"What took you so long?"
"Ran into a little trouble," Husk replied, his tone nonchalant. "Seems like the rebels decided to send a fiery welcome committee."
Shmucks looked around, noticing the spreading flames in the storage compartment.
"Well, that's one way to make an entrance. Anyway, I instructed the rest of our guys to retreat back to our train...so do you need help with canisters?"
Husk set the Devilirium canisters down, and Shmucks wasted no time. He grabbed one of the canisters, unscrewing the cap and pouring the volatile liquid into the engine's intake tube.
Husk checked the control panels. His eyes narrowed as he observed the arrow on one of the gauges steadily creeping towards the red marking. The signs of overloading were apparent, but there was no turning back now.
"Okay, kid. That's enough!" Husk announced, with Shmucks sealing the canister and placing it back with a clatter. Husk then gripped his hand firmly on the lever. "Alright, it's now or never! Brace for impact, everyone!"
With a decisive pull, the engine roared, and the entire train shuddered as it began to move, the wheels grinding against the tracks. The acceleration was faster and more forceful, which left the Militech mercenaries inside the train struggling to maintain their footing.
Thankfully, the Locomotive it plowed through the pile of rocks that had obstructed its path, finally freeing the entire train from I.R.A’s ambush.
"HEAVEN, YEAH!" Shmucks screamed, laughing triumphantly at the rebels left behind. He couldn't contain his joy. "THAT WILL TEACH THEM TO MESS WITH SATAN'S FINESTS!"
"Don't get cocky, kid." Husk warned, already knowing it's not the end for them.
The rebels outside the speeding locomotive didn’t give up. From the surrounding foliage emerged a whole platoon of rebels, mounted on bikes and driving armored vehicles that looked like they had been assembled and disassembled countless times. The makeshift vehicles rumbled and roared as they pursued the train, getting closer and closer.
"OH YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" Shmucks complained.
"I told you!" Husk returned it, busy checking the gauges.
"All Militech Units, we have an unknown assailant coming your way. Shoot on sight, over!"
The rhythmic thud of boots echoed through the corridors of the speeding train. The mercenaries of Militech assumed their positions, forming a tight perimeter within the confines of the train, ready to apprehend the assailant.
Suddenly, one of the train doors burst open, and In...strode Rönne Schaffer.
"THAT'S HIM!"
Without a word, Exorcist got into cover and engaged the mercenaries, firing his shots at them. Bullets whizzed past him as he ducked. He then moved in and out of sight, making it impossible for the mercenaries to predict his next move.
"Retreat, he is too much for us!" The remaining mercenaries struggled to regroup and retreat back as Rönne pressed forward. Ultimately, the Exorcist didn't bother with them as the Exorcist's cold gaze surveyed the compartment, with bodies littred the floor...can't be too careful.
In desperation, from one of the living rooms, a Militech mercenary lunged at Rönne with a combat knife, aiming for a swift kill. The Exorcist however, disarmed the assailant, delivering a strike that incapacitated his opponent.
"Good try."
Seeing that the rest of the mercenaries might set up an ambush, Rönne opened the doors to the sleeping rooms one by one, making sure that the coast was clear. As he reached the next door, it creaked open to reveal an unexpected sight...a trembling imp maid, wide-eyed and terrified. She let out a scream, a desperate plea for mercy.
"Get out of here." He commanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. Without waiting for a response, he moved on to the next room, leaving the imp maid trembling as she escaped.
Rönne approached the door to the living room where Olivia, Gaap, Alastor, and the sleeping Charlie were located. His hand gripped the handle, ready to open it and continue his methodical sweep of the train. However, just as he was about to turn the knob, a muffled commotion reached his ears. Swiftly, he moved to the next compartment, his eyes scanning the surroundings. As he entered, the source of the commotion became clear. A rebel soldier, struggling to climb on board after leaping from one of the bikes that trailed the speeding train.
"Need help!"
Rönne without hesitation, extended a hand to help the struggling rebel on board. The rebel quickly seized Rönne's hand, with Exorcist lifting the rebel up.
"Thanks!" The rebel wiped his uniform before saluting. "Comrade Ushi of the Infernal Revolutionary Alliance, reporting for duty."
"What's the situation now that your ambush failed?" Rönne asked, busily checking further away for any sign of potential enemies.
"Comrade Moxxara authorized us to commence plan B: We will secure some of the normal cargo and blow the Ars Colonia's cargo before it can reach New Limbo."
"Blow the cargo?" Rönne's expression remained unchanged, his cold gaze focused on Comrade Ushi. "Is she really that petty, willing to let Little Limbo starve for the sake of her revolution?"
Ushi hesitated for a moment before responding, "She believes in the cause, in liberating Little Limbo from Ars Colonia. Sacrifices are sometimes necessary."
Rönne frowned but didn't press the matter further. Arguing right now is a waste of time anyway. "Very well, but coordinate with me. I still need to find that Ars Goetia scum."
"I think we saw a Goetia with three imps and one Hellhound a bit further from us. If that's your target, then our goals align. We-"
Before Ushi could finish his sentence, the Militech mercenaries assumed their positions on one of the rooftop compartments and opened fire on Ushi and Rönne, who quickly sought cover behind nearby crates.
"Damn it! How many mercenaries does Militech have on this train?" Rönne grumbled, returning fire with shots from his carbine rifle.
"Don't you worry, we have a special surprise for them coming soon!" Ushi shouted over the gunfire. He then pointed to the sky with a grin. "Courtesy of our benefactors up there."
"Aha, remember it's a privilege; don't abuse our generosity." Rönne warned, busy firing at the mercenaries.
Thanks to the higher ground, it was very difficult for him to deal with the mercenaries above. But while mercenaries were busy responding with fire, they didn't notice a rebel bike approaching the speeding train, with the gunner perched on the bike.
"Get me close, Ceejay. I'm about to pop these fools!" Smoky shouted over the roar of gunfire.
Ceejay maneuvered the bike alongside the train, closing in on the ongoing firefight. Smoky took aim at the Militech mercenaries on the rooftop of the train compartments and unleashed a torrent of bullets.
The mercenaries scrambled for cover, returning the fire. Although one of them would stop firing and instead realize something.
"Hey, wait a minute! This is literally that scene from GT-"
Before he could finish his sentence, a large sign swung down from the side, striking the mercenary square on the head. The impact sent him sprawling before he just fell off the train.
"Poor imp." Rönne muttered sympathetically despite his cold tone. Neverthelles, he swiftly dealt with the remaining mercenaries on the rooftop. "Let's move forward. We can't afford to linger here."
Ushi thanked the rebel duo on the bike, and they nodded in return. The rebel bike moved up as Rönne and Ushi advanced in pursuit of their respective objectives.
Despite Husk managing to get the train moving, the clash between the remaining Militech forces and I.R.A. rebels continued. The guerrilla fighters pushed forward, securing significant portions of the train adorned with Ars Colonia's markings. Their primary objective became increasingly evident for Husk. They’re trying to seize the valuable equipment for themselves.
In the heat of the ongoing battle, the remaining Militech mercenaries struggled to break through the defensive line of the rebels guarding Ars Colonia's cargo. Despite their efforts, there was no significant pushback. One of the mercenaries crouched behind cover, attempting to fire at the rebels, but he took a hit, collapsing to the floor.
Just in time, Octavia, alongside the trio of Imps and her friend Loona, arrived. The young marquise moved toward the fallen soldier and knelt beside the wounded mercenary, assessing the severity of the injuries.
"How bad is it?" Octavia inquired, grabbing a med pouch from the closest mercenary who offered it to her and bringing out bandages.
"We're losing ground, Marquise," The wounded mercenary groaned in response, clutching a bleeding shoulder. "The rebels are more organized than we expected...we need reinforcements from New Limbo or nothing will be left of us."
"What do they want from us?" Octavia sought information while she worked swiftly, applying bandages to the injured soldier's shoulder.
"Probably Ars Colonia cargo. We saw them using welding torches to get inside," the mercenary explained, wincing as Octavia secured the bandage. "All of that equipment is for the development of Colonial regime here in Limbo. Without it, New Limbo will starve to death."
Octavia's eyes narrowed, absorbing the dire situation. She turned to Moxxie, Millie, Striker, and Loona, who had gathered nearby.
"We can't let these rebels steal from us. I get their grudges and the anger, but stealing equipment that others need to survive crosses the line for me."
Striker scoffed. "We don't need morals here. Just point, and we will shoot for you, Marquise."
"What he means is you've got our backing. Just give the orders, and we'll follow." Moxxie, however, expressed his support in a different manner.
With a nod, Octavia retrieved her grimoire. Flipping through its pages, she sought spells that could aid them in the current situation. After a moment, she found what she was looking for, spells to create magical barriers. This could be the key to turning the tide in their favor.
"Alright," Octavia said, her confidence returning. "We give him everything we've got. Mr. Mox, take the position and cover us with your rifle. Loona and Millie, you're with me. And Mr. Dad killer over here will go full frontal assault with the rest of the mercenaries."
"What?!" Striker could not believe what he just heard.
"That's Marquise's orders!" Octavia affirmed, giving him a death stare.
Grumbling under his breath, Striker reluctantly assumed his position for the frontal assault with the rest of the Militech mercenaries.
Octavia gathered her courage, despite sensing her own nervousness. She never in her life commanded her own troops. But in Ars Goetia and especially as Marquise, one must be good commander of his/her legions and noble...hence she took a deep breath and focused on the approaching rebels.
"It's now or never, my friends! For the Inferno!"
"FOR THE INFERNO!"
And so, it started. The clash between Militech forces and the I.R.A. rebels intensified as Octavia's cohort pushed on. Moxxie provided cover fire from his position, picking off rebels with shots. Loona and Millie unleashed their might, suppressing the advancing guerrilla fighters.
Striker led the frontal assault alongside the rest of the Militech mercenaries. His ferocious combat skills pushed the rebels on the defensive. Octavia focused on maintaining the magical barriers that shielded her side, thus providing more cover. She stood firm, flipping through her grimoire, and chanted incantations with grace as arcane energy emanated from her.
Loona, with Millie on her back, advanced into the fray. Loona's dual-bladed axe cleaved through rebel ranks, striking fear into the hearts of those who dared to oppose her. Millie, on the other hand, fired from her pistol at those who Loona either ignored or allowed Millie to deal with.
The rebels faltered under the combined might of Militech and demonic prowess. Luckily for them, a new force entered the fray. Rönne followed by I.R.A. rebel Ushi, arrived at the scene. "They're decimating our forces!" Ushi exclaimed, concern etched on his face.
"Not for long..."
With a swift motion, the Exorcist jumped into the midst of the battle, bringing his revolver into his grip and joining the fight on the side of the rebels. Rönne's presence on the battlefield was a game-changer for the I.R.A with his revolver finding its mark on Octavia's forces. Militech mercenaries fell before him, their attempts to counter proving futile. While Rönne engaged in combat, Ushi's earpiece buzzed to life, informing him of approaching support.
"Heavy cavalry is about to arrive, boys! Hold your ground a bit longer."
Despite Rönne's devastating impact on the battlefield, Striker proved himself a formidable adversary. The remaining rebels, the very ones Rönne had encountered in the cargo compartment earlier, faced off against Striker's relentless assault...only to have neutralized by him. And like Striker, Rönne also finished off the remaining Militech forces. Ultimately, only Octavia with her group and Rönne with rebel Ushi remained.
When the battle ended, Octavia would find that Crow Sinner would come up to her closer. One of the mercenaries tried to crawl away, but Rönne just fired his revolver at him, without even looking. And here, his cold gaze met Octavia's furious stare as they confronted each other.
"What's your purpose here, Sinner!?"
Rönne chose not to divulge any information that only fueled Octavia's frustration.
"He's not here for a chat, Marquise. Just kill him already!" Striker interjected, aiming at Exorcist
"Too bad for you, Striker. You have bigger problems than me."
"What?" Octavia got confused. Before she could demand further, the distant sound of what seemed to be the engines got closer.
Suddenly, a gunship adorned with the symbols of the I.R.A. appeared on the scene, which is something Hell would not be able to develop, judging by the design.
Without warning, the gunship's cannons roared to life, spewing a barrage of bullets toward Octavia and her companions. Loona acted swiftly, leaping at Octavia and pulling her to the ground and into cover just in time.
"You're okay?" Loona asked her friend.
"Y-yeah." Octavia breathed sharply. "You saved my spirit, Loonie."
"Eh, you repay it later." Loona shrugged, peeking out to see where that gunship is going. The unexpected turn of events left Octavia, Loona, and the others scrambling for cover, their immediate concerns now focused on the aerial menace that had just joined the fray.
With the gunship providing cover, Rönne and Ushi seized the opportunity to retreat toward the Ars Colonia section of compartments. The relentless firepower from above acted as a shield, giving them a momentary advantage to escape from the ongoing chaos.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Striker attempted to intercept them, intending to halt their retreat. Yet, the gunship, now positioned overhead, unleashed another torrent of firepower. The barrage rained down on Striker, forcing him to take cover hastily.
In response to the threat from above, Moxxie aimed his rifle at the gunship and fired a series of shots, each round hitting its mark. However, to his dismay, the gunship seemed to be equipped with advanced shielding technology. The bullets dissipated upon impact, leaving the gunship unscathed.
"I can't take it down! It's got some kind of shield!" Moxxie shouted to Octavia and Loona.
"Great..." Octavia sighed as she assessed the situation. The classic approach of shooting until the enemy was destroyed wouldn't work against this advanced technology.
...
Maybe that's the problem. Why rely on brutish tactics when you have Ars Goetia's magic?
...
Yep, you still got it, Octavia.
"Loona, Moxxie, distract that gunship. Give me some time!" Octavia ordered.
“You sure?” Loona had to ask.
“JUST GO!”
Loona nodded and moved out of cover with Moxxie, drawing the attention of the gunship and hoping to divert its focus from the impending threat Octavia posed, which it did.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Octavia sprinted toward the Ars Colonia section of compartments. She reached for her grimoire, flipping through its pages as she ran. The wind rushed past her as she searched for the spell she needed.
"Ok, found you."
Finding what she needed for her palm, Octavia raised her palm as the grimoire glowing with magical energy. She concentrated her focus, channeling the power.
"Running won't help you. Prepare to be blasted out of existence, you sorry little creatures." The pilot taunted them inside his cockpit.
However, his amusement quickly turned to confusion as he noticed something strange happening inside the cockpit. The metal panels around him began to creak and groan, distorting in bizarre ways.
Then warning lights flashed on the control panel, and alarms blared in the confined space. The pilot fought desperately to regain control, wrestling with the controls as the gunship spiraled out of the sky.
"What's happening?!" the pilot shouted over the chaos as she frantically toggled switches and adjusted settings, attempting to stabilize this thing.
With a sudden, violent twist of engines, the gunship lost its stability. It began to spiral out of control, descending rapidly towards the speeding train. Octavia's eyes widened as she realized the imminent danger...it was coming to crash right at her.
"FUCK ME!" She screamed, urging her legs to carry her faster.
Octavia sprinted past the train compartment as the gunship crashed onto it with a deafening impact. The collision erupted into a fiery explosion, engulfing the compartment in flames. The force of the impact created a barrier of fire, separating Octavia from the rest of her group.
Octavia stumbled and fell to the ground, gasping for breath from the explosion. The intense heat and acrid smoke surrounded her, the aftermath of the crash leaving her disoriented and separated from her companions.
"Octavia! Are you okay?" Loona's voice cut through the flames and smoke.
"Yeah, I'm fine!" Octavia shouted back, slowly getting up from the ground. Though physically unharmed, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. The intense magical exertion took a toll on her, leaving her fatigued and breathless.
"Alright, hold tight. We'll think of something to get you out of there," Loona assured her.
Before Octavia could respond, the roar of engines reached her ears. A couple of I.R.A. armored trucks thundered past the cart she was on. Realizing this could be the death of her, Octavia quickly opted to hide in the next compartment, hoping to stay out of sight until she could channel her spirit once more.
She found herself in one of Ars Colonia's cargo train cars. Containers bore the insignia of Ars Colonia, were tightly secured even further compared to normal ones.
Octavia cautiously moved among the containers, her footsteps muffled by the ambient sounds of the train. The broken latch of a particular container caught her attention. As she approached, the door creaked open, revealing an unsettling sight, neatly arranged shackles within, hinting at a more ominous purpose behind Ars Colonia's cargo.
"Why would they need these in New Limbo?" Octavia wondered aloud, her gaze fixed on the restraints.
Curiosity driving her, Octavia's eyes continued to scan the compartment, revealing a document caught on the wall.. She retrieved the paper, unfolding it to find a report...
Governor-Duke Barbatos Goetia,
I trust this message finds you in good health and high spirits. I write to inform you of recent developments regarding Project "Ars Colonia" following the untimely demise of Bael. Despite the loss of our esteemed Ars, the project's momentum must not waver, and its success remains paramount for the prosperity of our endeavors in the Limbo Ring.
The Electorate has deemed it crucial to continue the initiative under their close oversight, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a vigilant approach to the project's progression. As such, I urge you to reaffirm your commitment to the goals set forth by the Electorate and ensure that all aspects of "Ars Colonia" align with our vision.
One key directive is the expansion of production facilities throughout the outer Limbo. The Electorate believes that the strategic placement of these facilities will not only optimize resource utilization but also serve as a foundation for our subsequent expansion endeavors. The urgency of this expansion cannot be overstated, as it aligns with the broader strategy to establish Ars Colonia as a dominant force in the region before eventual into domain of Ars Goetia.
I trust in your capability to oversee and execute this expansion diligently. Your leadership has been instrumental in steering our efforts thus far, and I am confident that you will continue to uphold the standards set by the Electorate. Let this be a testament to our collective determination to see Project "Ars Colonia" through to its fruition.
May the Inferno guide our path.
Sincerely,
Your Elector Duke Astaroth of Ars Goetia.
"Knew it was too good to be true..." Octavia muttered to herself. "What are you planning exactly, Duke?"
*Door Slam*
Instinctively, she sought cover behind the crates, peering cautiously to observe the newcomers. To no one's surprise, it was Rönne and Ushi once more. They moved with an empty bag of explosives. Seems they set up a few charges away.
"There, that's enough to leave them with nothing." Rönne announced, only to scowl at himself. "So many lives lost just for this..."
"We'll prevail, no matter the cost. As long as I.R.A and its ideas exist." Ushi responded with conviction, "The demons need to see that the Seven Deadly Sins are tyrants, seeking only to oppress our kind."
"After this, what then?" Rönne posed a more philosophical question. "Does the I.R.A or Moxxara herself have plans for a different future? 'Democracy' is an alien concept in your
"Moxxara believes in a future where demons can choose their path. Even if that "Democracy" thing might be alien to our society, it's still a time for demons to forge a new destiny, free from the oppression of the Seven Deadly Sins. That's what I.R.A stands for right now...but eventually we will see."
“That’s what scares me most, friend.”
Rönne crouched down to meet Imp's eyes. The ambient light played on the contours of his features, emphasizing the seriousness in his expression. "I understand the desire change for the better; I truly do. But know this, little one. Agent Genesis promises a lot of stuff, and as long as the I.R.A.'s goals align with the interests of your benefactors, we shall support Moxxara's regime, whatever shape or form it will be. However, that support is not unconditional. Should your leader or the new Inferno break any treaties with us, especially the Acheron Accord, or fail to keep the Sinner population in check, the consequences will be severe and far more devastating than the annual purges you see."
"Moxxara understands the situation, operative. That's why I.R.A. has decided to pull its forces out for now before we can besiege New Limbo Anyway, we've achieved what we came here for in the first place and are pulling out. You could join us, if you want."
Rönne, however, shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but my mission is not yet complete. There are matters that demand my attention here. Pull your forces out. I will find my way back to my home."
Ushi nodded understandingly. "Very well, operative. It's been a pleasure to fight you for the same goal. I always wondered what it is like to fight alongside the maskies."
"Feeling is mutual." Rönne watched as Ushi left the compartment, disappearing into the labyrinthine network of train cars.
Octavia observed everything while she was hidden in the shadows. More and more questions arose...what had she gotten herself into?
In the midst of her thought, a small noise escaped her, a quiet shuffle of her foot against the metal floor. Rönne immediately caught wind of the sound, pulling out his revolver as his head turned in the direction of the disturbance.
Octavia instinctively covered her beak, silently pleading to Ars Belial that she wouldn't be discovered.
"Please, just go away already." Octavia whispered so quietly that it was barely heard by her...but ultimately it was to no avail. Octavia could feel the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against her head as Rönne's voice, devoid of warmth or mercy, cut through the quiet.
"Get up."
Reluctantly, Octavia emerged from the crate, her eyes meeting the gaze of the Exorcist in sinner form. The dim light accentuated the severity etched on Rönne's face. His gaze bore into Octavia, unreadable and intense. Octavia could only offer a silent plea through her eyes - a plea for mercy.
"Turn around. Hands in the air,"
"Okay...okay," Octavia slowly turned around, raising her hands as instructed.
Rönne reached for his blessed rope to secure Octavia's hands. However, Octavia seized the moment. As swiftly as possible, she turned around and used her claws to attack him. In one motion, she slashed at Rönne's face, catching him off guard. The unexpected slash stunned him for a moment, allowing Octavia to capitalize on the opportunity. With a surge of her demonic powers, she unleashed a forceful wave of magic that sent Rönne crashing against a nearby crate.
As he struggled to recover, Octavia's eyes darted to the dropped blessed revolver. She managed to retrieve the blessed revolver, but Rönne wasn't one to yield easily. He quickly regained his composure, and he too reached for the revolver, creating a tense struggle between the two adversaries. They grappled for the weapon, but in the end, Exorcist slapped the revolver out of Octavia's hands, sending it clattering to the metal floor.
Octavia, feeling the tug-of-war slipping away, once again unleashed her magical abilities. The force sent Rönne stumbling back, and Octavia seized the opportunity to gain some distance.She swiftly summoned her sword and poised for a strike. Just as Octavia was about to deliver a decisive blow, Rönne, with an instinct honed, summoned his Exorcist spear into existence. The clash of sword against spear echoed through the compartment, their weapons locked once more.
As Octavia and Rönne held their weapons against each other in a tense standoff, an unsettling realization dawned upon her. Her eyes narrowed before a realization flickered across Octavia's face, finally connecting the dots.
"You're not a Sinner, are you?"
Rönne seized the opportunity. With a forceful push, he disengaged from the clash, creating a brief distance between them. Octavia staggered backward but had her sword at the ready, in any case.
"You shouldn't have come here, Miss Octavia. This isn't your fight." Rönne wiped the blood from the slash on his face. She got him good.
"Well, I've never been much of an 'obedient to rules' type of Goetia anyway." Octavia smirked, half-jokingly. With a swift motion, she aimed her sword at Rönne. "And you, Exorcist, your presence here is a violation of the peace deal between Heaven and Hell."
"Not a violation if we're here, hon." Rönne shook his hand from the blood drips before aiming his spear at her. "Last time I checked, Limbo still remains under " Occupational administration, " so in turn...you're trespassing in the domain of Lord Minos."
Octavia didn't dignify it with a response, as she slowly adjusted herself for combat.
Both of them started to circle each other, their eyes locked, each anticipating the other's next move. Octavia struck first, her sword slicing through the air. Rönne, being on the defensive, parried the attacks.
Thanks to her Great-aunt, Octavia showed good prowess as she continued her assault with a combination of slashes and feints. Rönne focused on evasion and defense, his spear deflecting Octavia's strikes with minimal effort.
The confined space of the cargo compartment was problematic for them too, forcing them to navigate crates and obstacles with Octavia pushing him into a corner. Rönne recognized the need to assert control and tapped into his own arcane abilities. He invoked the Exorcism of Soul with a burst of ethereal light extended from the tip of his spear, aimed not to harm but to temporarily incapacitate.
When Octavia’s clashed with his spear for next time, the radiant flash washed over Octavia, leaving her momentarily blinded. Seizing the opportunity, Rönne closed the distance, disarmed her, and pinned her down. He proceeded to tie her hands, ensuring she wouldn't pose a threat to him anymore.
"Time out, Miss Octavia," Rönne quipped.
Octavia struggled against the tight knots that confined her. Frustration was etched across her features as she squirmed, attempting in vain to free herself. She shot a venomous glare at Rönne, her voice piercing the tense air.
"How dare you tie me up! You think this will keep me from tearing you apart? I'm the daughter of Stolas and the great-niece of Marquise Phenex. If you harm me, they will come for you, and you'll face consequences you can't imagine!"
"Titles mean nothing to me, Miss Octavia. I don't care who you are or where you come from." Rönne retorted with a cold detachment, unfazed by her lineage and titles. He would walk up and grab the revolver back to his holster. "Now, tell me where Gaap is. Your cooperation will make this much easier for both of us."
Octavia found a certain irony in the situation, not to mention the audacity of that Exorcist to suggest her cooperation with him.
"Oh, Gaap is probably hiding in some dark corner, wetting himself with fear. Frankly, I couldn't care less."
"Cooperate, Miss Octavia." Rönne warned her, again unfazed by her sarcasm or by her behaviour. "Tell me where Gaap is, and you'll be free."
"Go fuck yourself, you smiley masked bastard!" Octavia spat back. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. What type of MORON do you have to be to think I will cooperate after you tied me up?! Son of a bitch, you will pay dearly once Princess gets herself here. Mark my words, she will-"
And Octavia continued to hurl insults in his direction. While she babbled, the Exorcist crossed his arms and decided to wait for her to calm down. Deep inside, he found it rather cute of Octavia to hurl so many insults at him...nice change of pace, unlike with Lieutenant Lute.
However, his irritation grew as Octavia didn't want to shut up already. At one point and unseen by Octavia, he subtly mimicked her animated yapping with a hand...even though it didn't help at all. Ultimately, Rönne's irritation reached its limit. He drew his revolver on her and pressed the lever down, causing the barrel to circle, indicating that the weapon was loaded and ready.
"It only takes one bullet, Miss Octavia," Rönne stated, his tone devoid of emotion.
"You wouldn't shoot a defenseless girl" Octavia, although still defiant, couldn't entirely mask the hint of fear in her eyes.
There was a moment of tense silence from Exorcist...before just stating the bland truth.
"Try me."
Octavia at first would only direct it at his revolver and back at him for a few times before nervously swallowing.
"You're no better than that "Striker" lizard."
"I won't stoop to Striker's level, Miss Octavia." Rönne's response was firm. "But make no mistake, I'm not here to play games. I'll extend a helping hand if needed, shoot if necessary, and well..." He gestured subtly to his revolver. "Exorcism doesn't discriminate on its targets. Whether it's a Sinner or a Goetia, it doesn't matter. For your own sake, cooperate if you want to live."
Octavia weighed the options before her. If anything, that Exorcist looked like he is not the one to play the games...not to mention the loaded revolver pointed at her didn’t help. With a reluctant sigh, Octavia decided to cooperate, taking Rönne's words seriously for the sake of her own safety.
"I don't know where Gaap is, and that's the honest truth," Octavia stated bluntly. "Why do you want Gaap in the first place?"
"It's not a good look when you abandon a fellow Goetia to his fate, Miss Octavia." Rönne responded with a slight hint of a smirk. "But fine: I want Gaap dead, simple as that. When orders come from above, they must be carried out. It's nothing personal, Miss Octavia. Just following orders"
"You do realize that Gaap would never endanger himself just for me?"
"That won't be a problem," Rönne grinned at her. "Considering I have you as my hostage. A little bit of blackmail can make a huge difference. We can wait here, you and I, before your friends arrive."
"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" Octavia scoffed, letting out a fake laugh, shaking her head.
"All in the day's work, Miss Octavia." Rönne just rested his back against the crate, crossing his arms.
A brief pause lingered in the air as Octavia, growing tired of the blessed rope on her hands, squirmed against the tight bonds, shooting Rönne an impatient look.
"Come on, just let me go. We're approaching New Limbo, and you're going to be in a whole lot of trouble if you don't release me."
"Ars Colonia's irregular army won't be an issue for me. I've dealt with worse." Rönne checked the loaded revolver in his hand.
Octavia sighed quietly, giving up on the reasons. The odds seemed stacked against her, and the unpredictable nature of her captor made any attempt at escape a risky endeavor. She knew she had to bide her time, wait for an opportunity, and hope that her friends or Charlie would come to her rescue
B̷̖̻̏̒͑̂́e̶̡̤̞̱̫̣͈̯̦̊̍̌͘l̶̤͓̳̬̼͘ĩ̶͕̖̟͙̮̥̞͑̏͂̈́͝e̸̛̜͇̽̄͛͆̕͠v̵̛͙̥̪̳̓̿͊̓͗ȇ̴̙̯͖̖͆̿̊͆̽͝ ̵̥͇̞͒͂̓ì̵̲̞̬̥̲̦͚̽̿͝͝n̷͔̟͎̞̍͐̐͆̾̌̈́ͅ ̵̬̯͎͈̫͐͌o̷̳͎̒̈̑̃ñ̷͚ẹ̸̛̺̀͜͠ ̴̛̭͍̤̦́̂̒͜͠G̸̛̜͉̜̹̱̥͙͓̤͌̐̋̃͋͠ỏ̶̦͙̠̗̳̊́̓͆͐͒̂d̴̬͓̙͓̹͛͜ ̸̪̭̱͙̦̺̖̤̓͐̾͠d̴͔̯͚̥͙̯͖̠̣̍̾͆͋͆̊͝ö̵̟́ ̵̯̦̥̻̰̭̖̺̜́̌̈͐͛̓͝w̶̱̺̗̹̹̄̆̔ė̴̛͓̽̃́̒̀̊ ̴̧̝͇̥̭͔͛͌̑͘͝D̸̫̙̿̀͛͒̏͋̓͘ē̸̡̬̰͖͈̍͋̑̓̽͊v̸͇̝̣̩͓̌̉̃i̵̮̲̞͇̗̊͐̉̃l̴͍̺̻̺̺̭̉ ̵̛̮̙̼̱̣̙̥͑̂͊̆̚a̴͐́͊̉̎̕͜l̶̨̩̬̞͍͖̗͙͕̈́̃͑̔͝m̸̜̲͇͉̿͘ȉ̷̡̯̬̞̺͉͈̭͌̈̀͐̒̇g̵̤̲̜͙̙̺̳͔̤͑͋h̵̗̀̊̅͂͒̔͒̀̓͜ṯ̵̈̍̋̕͠y̸̢̦̬̱̓̇͗̒́,̷͈͈̳͙̮̪͙̒̅̽̏̑̐ ̵̨̨̡̟͖̥̝̌T̸̲͆̅̎̄͝ḩ̷̱̭͍̼̰͍̗͓͋̔̽̕̕ȇ̷͇͔͖̖̝̓̋ ̸̡̩̙̳̼̏͘ù̵̬̳̙̼̜͖ͅn̸̲͓̭̐c̵̦̹̯͙͑̈́̍͘͠r̷̞͙͌̏̉͋͆̃͗͘͜ë̴̛̳̠̰̥̝́͐̃͘a̶̺̎t̷̥̗͇̱͉͖̀̉͗̀o̶̳̓̎͒̓͊r̴̭̬͔̪̗͓̠͎̝̒͋͐̆̊͑̾ ̷̥̹̺͂̆̀̇̋͐͐̕ͅǫ̶̧̰̥̟̜̝̲͋͋̏̏̊͘̕f̴̢̮̠̖̀͆̈́́̿̌͘͘ ̷̗̜̤̖͔̈́͐́̋̓̋͗͜ͅḩ̵̹͍̰̈́ȅ̶͙͎́́̈̂̚͝͝ấ̶͇̜̯͍͖̙̘̬̦̿͊͗̓̀͝v̶̺́́̒̈̚ẽ̵̮͕̭͚̥̭͐͂̌̏̄̍͜͠n̸̨̮̬̭̍̓̍̀͐͆̕̕ ̷̢̣͖͇͙̂͆͘̚à̷̼̫̞̉̌̉̆͝n̵͉͎̜͇̥̂̊̀d̷̖͑͒̉̀͐ ̷̙̰͇̟͈͓̣̜͗̉͊̕ͅs̸̡̉ŏ̸͙̱̳̦͓̲̔í̴̘̝̐̋̊͆͘l̴̬͇͎̬̻͠.̴̨̡̛̼̥͚̫́͋ ̸̡̦̻̗̗̝̿̃́̚͜A̸̢͙̖̼͒̔̀̊͆̅͠n̷̖͂͑́̈́͝d̴͖͉̣͚̫͉͙̮͎̕͝ ̴̦̟̓̀͛̑t̴͈̮͓͙̠͑͐̔̍̈́̈̃h̸̥̯̙̱͍͙̪͌e̸͉͛̀̿̋͐̉͛͠͠ ̶̟͕̪̖̤̮͎͎͈̑i̸̯̚n̵͓͍̖͚͈̙͂́̂̽v̴̧̱̭́̓̔͐̀͗͆͘̕i̴̘͈͉̺̤͓͑̈́̒̏͛́̚s̴͍̩̖̮̲̱̗͉̀̍͑̉̔̔̄̒̚i̶̡̯̋b̵̧̯̓̐̃̊̊̒̂͊l̴̗̫̩̹̦̟͈̉̎̄ȇ̶̡͓̪̙̠̅͆͜ ̶̢͙̮̩̮̹̮͇̏̄́̔͆̆̇͆͝á̸͎̯n̷͇̠̘̈́̅̉͐͂̃d̸̼̗̗̖̟̳̮͆͑̀͑̃̊̀̒̓ ̵̦͂̈́̏͝t̴̬͖͓̻̮̀h̸̡̨̞̞̝̬͕͈͙̆̃̔̀̏̕ẹ̴̟̏ ̶̞̮́̃̂̈́̇̕v̸̨̛̰̖͖̠͈̮̱̣̔̋̒̓i̸̡͍̣̫̭̻̿̊͒s̴̤̮̦̫̠̥̹̥̪̐̾͐͗i̸̧̛̛̤̍͆̊́̈́͘b̸̮̿̀̆̀̾͘l̶̩͚̳̺̮̺̭̰͂͆̂̂́͒ḙ̷͉̏̆̌͋͊̐͐̔̑ ̴̩͑Ḁ̶͓̙̭̓͆̂͒͠n̷̜̟̝͔̮̥̤̄̽̽̾̈́̆̃d̷̨̠̦͕̳̻̝͋̽ ̶̘͉̺͍̜̞̪̻͕̍͊̂͒̾̀̕̕͝į̵̢̞̯̩̊͑̓̉̔̆͒͝n̸͇̱͈̩̂͆͋͒͊̆ ̸̛̜͎̱̗͉̠͛͌͆͋̿̓͝h̷̨̢̛͉̫͕̤̘̻̒̎̐͑̇̕͜͝ĩ̴̹̭̳̗͂͆̐̓s̴͓̞̝͂̓͗͒ ̷̜͚͎̗̰̯̈̓̀̏͝͠d̵̞̒̓̋̀̈͘a̴̟̫̿̀͆̉̈̕û̷̞̤̞͚̌g̴̨̖̼̮͎̒̊̋̊͛̈́h̵̙̟̉̐̕ṱ̵̘̜͇͇̎̎͊̕͠e̵̤̗͕̲̹̰̭͌͛̇̒r̴̙̠͖̮̼̒͗̔̏͛̋́ ̵͖̖̮̐ḃ̸͖͓̺͉̍͛͂̅̊̂è̷̥̱̰̠̠̖̳̞̥̐̅̉g̵͈̔̋̎̍o̵̧̹̝͕̩̮̥̮̺̎̄̒͘t̴͇͔̬̄̀́̀̊̕͠ṱ̸̡̖͉̗̜̽͊̄̔̍̕ḝ̸̢̫̩̱̞̟͚̖͒̏̃̾͝͝n̵̗͖̓̊́ ̴͍̒̎̉̓̌̇o̴̹͚͎̱̊ͅf̷̧̛̛̿͌͆ ̸̟̍͜͜f̶̡̛̤̙͉̘̺̋̅̏̌̍̀ͅa̷̱̹̘̻̹͍̣͓̅̈̍ẗ̷̞̣̗̜̹̭́͗̏̕͘h̵̹̾̀̃̎̓͝͝ͅę̴̛͍͓̬̦̦͌̾͛̇͒͊̔͠r̴̮͈̬̓̓͒̾̈́̌̔͘ ̷̖̗̱͉̝̫̾̑̑̓̕ͅḂ̸̘͙̙̮̟̳̣̓̂̀̇͋̂̓̚͜y̴̟̱̅̑͒̂͘͠ ̸̡̞̥͚̘̳̘̈́͆̐͜w̷̧̧͖̬̲̭͓̹̍̉ḧ̴̫̙͔͇̩͆̒̆͜ͅȏ̸̱͈̰͎̪̒̐̅̒̎͠͝m̸̫̖͈̓̽̒͘ ̸̢͉͕͈̈́̒a̵̧̤̬̮̳͓͓͐̇̋l̵͙̩͎̜͔̜̹̄͜ĺ̸̡̛̜͎̼̓̍͋̐͘ ̶̨͇̲̯̰̜͙͋̔̆̇͋̒ţ̸͈̖͍̐̀̊̚h̵̛̛̝͚̠̰̃̎̇́̕ḯ̵͙͎͎̰̯͓̲̯̞̑̀̔̕͠n̶̡̨̛̛̥͙͙̯͖̬̄̀́͝͠g̵͇̣̜̀͆s̶̹̙̳͆̈́͑̇̂̍ ̷̡̛̝̤̌͛͐͋̏͊ẉ̶̩̔̽̏́̓͘͝i̸̖̘̭̣͊̇̉̽̀̒̚͜͝l̵͇̂̌̆͐̔͂͂̔͠l̴͍̀̃̚ ̶̨̭̠̱̅̚b̸̦͖̗͚̓͛͋͆̏̏͛͘ȅ̷̜͎̰̱̲̮̆̈́̓̄̆̚ͅ ̵̧̧̘̱̔̆̕ù̸̜̹̬͗͆͌́n̸̰͈͇̩̼̳̰̊͛͛͊͆́̇͠m̵̡͕̰̠̟̻͖̼̖̒̋̄̐̔͛͑̕å̵̱͔̫̹̮̈̓̊͛d̷̢̿̔͝ę̷͉̣͎̺̒͌̑́ͅ
In the ethereal dreamscape, Charlie found herself seated on a bench, the enigmatic Devil sitting across from her. The atmosphere carried an otherworldly tranquility, in stark contrast to the turmoil unfolding in the physical realm.
"I must say, Miss Morningstar. When I bestowed my gift upon you, I had my...doubts. And yet you've surpassed every expectation I had for you."
"You mean Ars Goetia?" Charlie met his gaze with a wariness.
"Ars Goetia has been a fine tool for a long time, a dance of shadows on the fringes of existence. An old bird, however, dying under the weight of what approaches. I appreciate your efforts to keep it alive, Miss Morningstar, but like the sands in an hourglass, it will crumble, as all things eventually do."
Charlie's neutral look remained calm even if his words settling uneasily on her shoulders.
"But I digress. I won't deny that without my nudge, you wouldn't be in the same place you are now. However, there is a matter that must be addressed. Your choices have consequences, and I have offered you guidance. Now, I must extract what is owed. A matter of debt, you see."
"You...you're not taking my soul, are you?"
"Oh, Miss Morningstar, your soul is not mine to take. It was never the currency I sought from you. No, what I seek is a matter more intricate and consequential."
In the blink of an eye, the dreamscape shifted, and Charlie found herself in a different place. Some kind of...stable. The Devil, still seated on an invincible bench, began to weave a story.
"In a realm far removed from the Hell and Heaven, there lived a man. A man who carried within him a spark of divinity...and this man chose to part with the world he so intimately knew. He willingly embraced the fate he was destined for, knowing that his departure would birth a new chapter for humanity."
As the Devil's narrative unfolded, the scenery transformed, revealing a hill bathed in a somber light. Three crosses stood tall against the darkened sky.
"The choices made in this place echoed through time, weaving a narrative of redemption and sacrifice here in the land you call 'Limbo.'" the Devil continued.
"So...who you're refer to?" Charlie asked.
"He is the thesis to your antithesis, Miss Morningstar." The Devil enigmatically spoke, and then glanced at the central cross. "His...intervention has caused some...complications in the grander scene for me...but I had a solution to it."
In the ever-shifting dreamscape, the scene transitioned once more. The Devil now sat near a table, and before him lay 30 silver coins. The Devil's gaze rested upon the coins before he looked up at Charlie.
"There was a time he cared nothing for his teacher... When his only experience of divinity was a damnation coming at him down through a rope on his neck.
In the ever-changing dreamscape, The Devil then revealed to Charlie a royal courtroom adorned with dark grandeur. A Sinner, regally attired as a king, sat upon a throne. The Sinner King gestured with an air of authority, addressing unseen subjects in the spectral courtroom. Beside him, a robed figure with a hood obscured their visage.
"When I plucked him from Treachery Ring, I acted in the face of objections that he was a mere man and of no practical use to anyone. I have learned to ignore such naysayers when quelling them was out of the question. Still, I am not one to squander my investments... and I remain confident he was worth far more than the initial...appraisal. That's why I must now extract from you some small repayment owed for your own success."
In the ever-shifting dreamscape, Charlie found herself standing atop the imposing gates of Hell. The air was thick with an otherworldly tension, and a panoramic view unfolded before her eyes. From this vantage point, the vast expanse of Ante-Inferno stretched out beneath her.
The Devil, standing beside Charlie, observed the infernal panorama before looking back at Charlie. "Find my own old acquaintance here in Limbo, Miss Morningstar. I wish I could do more than keep an eye on you, but I have agreed to abide by certain... restrictions."
Charlie found herself back in the royal courtroom, the Sinner King seated upon his throne. The Devil stood beside the Sinner King, his gaze fixed upon the frozen King.
"Mmm....Well... Now... Listen carefully, my "Lord". When you see your "friend"... relay these words:"
"Prepare for the Anti-Christ's arrival."
"What?" The Sinner King would blink a few times as the Devil's evil grin increased. Ultimately, Charlie could not proceed before everything became quiet once more.
Charlie groaned as she slowly stirred from the dreamlike state. Her cheek felt sore, as if it had been subjected to repeated slaps. Alastor sipped a tea before he greeted her with a cheerful tone.
"Good morning, Charlie! Did you have the most delightful nap?"
"Had...weird dream." Charlie took in her surroundings; she noticed Olivia and Gaap present in the room, both looking traumatized, suggesting that something significant had transpired. "What happened? Why do you both look like you've seen an unbidden?"
"Oh, you know, your majesty, just a delightful surprise of some plebs deciding they want to make my existence a tad more complicated!" Gaap responded with sarcasm, but as he continued, the sarcasm gave way to a more desperate plea. "And now they're everywhere! I can't go anywhere without someone trying to take me out!"
Charlie blinked a few times, as she didn’t understand the word. She turned to Olivia, who met her gaze with a somber look.
"Rebels are assaulting our train, your majesty. Octavia and the others went to stop them, but they haven't returned yet."
"Shit. We need to find them now!" Charlie declared as she got up from her bed. Not a second did she want to waste, knowing that nobody would lie or joke about this. "Olivia, Prince Gaap, Al, come on, let's go. We're going to put an end to this."
Gaap grumbled, his voice a discontented murmur. Despite his reluctance, he followed along with the group, trailing Charlie as they navigated the aftermath within the train.
Charlie left the room and was met with a startling sight. Militech mercenaries scattered lifeless in their compartment
"What I really missed here!" Charlie stared at the bodies, horrified.
As she moved forward, the shuffling of feet caught her attention. The commotion outside drew her focus, and she ventured forth to investigate.
In the next compartment, Charlie discovered rebels loading crates onto an armored truck that kept pace with the train. One of the rebels tossed a crate, only to miss its mark.
"Hey, you missed it! Do you realize how rare the supplies are in here? We -" The rebel's words caught in his throat as he laid eyes on Charlie. "Who the Heaven is that?"
The rest of the rebels turn their attention towards Charlie, weapons ready. The princess of Hell would make few steps, agitating the rebels.
"Whoever you are! Stop this immediately!” Charlie sincerely pleaded with them to reconsider it.
“And who the fuck are you?!”
I'm the Princess of Hell, and you - !" However, before she could push for more, one of the rebels, who locked eyes with her, screamed.
"That's her! Lucifer's daughter!"
Without hesitation, the rebel raised his firearm and fired at Charlie. The gunshot echoed Charlie staggered backward as the bullet found its mark, striking her in the chest.
"Well, that's gotta hurt." Alastor chimed in,
"Damm," Gaap let out a low whistle under his breath. "So, Olivia. Who is next in line for the Infernal throne?"
Olivia, however, remained silent, refusing to engage with Gaap's question.
Normally, a bullet from a blessed weapon would kill an ordinary demon. But to the rebel's surprise, Charlie, despite the evident pain, brought her bandaged hand to her wounded chest. She examined the blood on her hand, then squeezed it, causing the bandaged hand to glow with dark energy. The ominous radiance emanating from her hand made one thing clear to all present—
"I asked you nicely, and you spat on me! I'm done being nice!" Charlie's voice reverberated with an intensity that matched the dark energy pulsating from her bandaged hand. The rebels had awakened the other side of the Princess of Hell.
I can't see where you comin' from
But I know just what you runnin' from:
And what matters ain't the "who's baddest" but
The ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, baby
In the chaos that ensued, Charlie cut them through, leaving a trail of defeated foes in her wake. A rebel rushed at her, gun in hand. In a blur, Charlie sidestepped, disarming him with an effortless twist. Another assailant lunged with desperation, only to meet the cold steel of her claw.
And you feel like you feelin' now
And doin' things just to please your crowd,
When I love you like the way I love you,
And I suffer, but I ain't gonna cut you 'cause
Gunfire erupted from the rebels, but Charlie dodged. She retaliated with a precision that left rebels bewildered, dismantling their resistance one by one:
[Chorus]
This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call "home."
This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call "home."
In the meantime, Moxxie, Millie, and Striker fought against the I.R.A.'s armored trucks. Loona, amidst the chaos, desperately scanned the surroundings for a solution to the flaming wreckage that blocked their path. Octavia could not be heard from the other side, and it made Loona more on edge.
However, before Loona could devise a plan, Charlie descended upon the scene, jumping down from the train compartment. Fueled by fury, The Princess of Hell hurled fireballs with at the armored trucks, causing explosions that sent the I.R.A. forces into disarray.
Moxxie, looked at Alastor, perplexed by the sudden turn of events,
"Everything is under control. Didn't have to lift a finger." Alastor nonchalantly remarked. Meanwhile Loona, seeing Charlie, approached her for help.
"Your majesty! Octavia is on the other side, but this damn wreck is blocking us from her!"
"Stand aside," Charlie commanded. With a forceful punch, she collided with the flaming wreckage of the gunship, sending it hurtling to the ground.
Thanks to Charlie, the group pressed forward with Charlie, leaving behind the smoldering remnants of the I.R.A.'s failed assault. Charlie, with her anger subsiding, kicked open the door to the Ars Colonia's train compartment.
As Charlie surveyed the compartment, her eyes met Rönne's, who emerged from the shadows, holding Octavia as a shield. In one hand, he clenched a revolver.
"Don’t even try, princess. One wrong move and she will die."
"You've got a lot of nerve to say that, Sinner." Charlie said through gritted teeth. "Let her go. We can resolve this without any more bloodshed."
"I'm not here to negotiate, Miss Morningstar. You're in no position to make demands. Bring me Prince Gaap here, and I will honor by letting her go."
"Charlie, he's an Exorcist!" Octavia exclaimed, trying to shake herself off from Rönne's grip.
"Figures." Charlie muttered, shaking her head with a knowing expression. "I should have known Lute was sending one of her lackeys after us."
"The Order of Exorcism doesn't orbit around Lute. I'm here for my own reasons."
The arrival of the rest of the group heightened the stakes, with weapons aimed at Rönne. He responded by aiming the barrel of his gun against Octavia’s head, a clear warning that he wouldn't hesitate.
Striker arrived slowly and deliberately as Gaap followed closely behind him.
"Gaap is here. I've honored my end of the deal. " Charlie, seizing the moment, stepped forward with a stern expression. "Now, it's your turn, Exorcist. Let her go."
Rönne let out a resigned sigh, realizing that the balance of the situation was slipping away from his advantage. He had promised Charlie that Octavia would be released, and as a man of his word, he had to comply. However, it didn't mean he was entirely defenseless.
"Move to that owl girl." Rönne whispered to Octavia before releasing his grip on her. Still casting a defiant glance at Rönne, she slowly made her way to and joined Olivia, her hands still bound, but now out of immediate danger.
"Are you hurt?" Olivia asked, unwrapping the binds.
"Only my pride...and we'll have a long talk about this, Oli."
Now that Octavia was freed, everyone now fully focused on Exorcist, although Charlie showed an palm that she wants him alive...for now.
"I let her go. Now step aside, Striker." Exorcist demanded.
"You're an idiot, Deadeye. Octavia here was the only thing that kept you from us. " Striker dismissed the demand, ready to fire.
"Yeah, you're so screwed, buddy." Millie chimed in, rubbing her axe with joy as she was about to murder him.
Despite their threats, Rönne remained composed, even leaving with a smirk. If anything, they all are in one sinking ship at this very moment.
"You've all forgotten one crucial detail: we're heading into The Buzzards' territory."
At this point, all I.R.A rebels pulled out from their assault, having either been destroyed by Charlie's rampage or escaped into the wilderness. It allowed both Husk with Shmucks and Killbane to operate the Locomotive in safety and quiet. Since the engine was chugging with all of its power, constant monitoring and providing water to cool off the engines were needed; hence, it's what Husk had to deal with.
Husk, hunched over a console, engrossed in the intricate workings of the train's engines...or at least tried to. Growing up in Nevada and with his dad working as a train driver at least allowed him to have some basic knowledge of trains.
"We should not be that far away from New Limbo at this point. Worst case scenario, we can ditch the train and walk two kilometers from here." Shmucks remarked, casting a sidelong glance at Husk.
Husk emitted a low, contemplative hum, acknowledging his words. But his attention seemed to be elsewhere. He picked up a sound that was an unsettling howl echoing from a distance.
"What's with that noise?"
Husk's eyes narrowed as he focused on the distant howls. The faint markings that appeared on the horizon confirmed his suspicions...
"Well, shit." Husk cursed, knowing where it's going.
Out of nowhere, an arrow, adorned with explosives, sailed through the air, finding its mark on the locomotive's body. The metallic surface vibrated with the impact, and a low beep emanated from the projectile, signaling its imminent detonation.
"Run!"
Both Shmucks and Killbane with Husk scrambled in a frantic attempt to escape the impending explosion. The explosive arrow erupted into a violent burst of fire and shrapnel, tearing through the locomotive. The locomotive itself now lay in ruins, derailing with a screeching cacophony of twisted metal. Train compartments, including the one where Charlie and her friends confronted Rönne, began crashing into each other, sending shockwaves through the entire train.
"What the-"
Charlie could not retail her concerns as everything began to violently shake. The Last thing she saw was a crate tumbled from its place, coming down on her...and then...everything went quiet once more.
...
...
...
...
"Teacher, do you truly believe that the punishment only ends when the soul finds its peace?"
"Peace, my disciple, is a journey, not a destination. The soul's torment may persist until it finds the tranquility it seeks, or it may endure in a perpetual cycle of suffering."
"But is there no salvation for those who bear the weight of regret?"
"Salvation is not denied to any soul, It awaits those who seek it, sometimes in the most unexpected corners of their journey."
"I understand. It's just....Minos is becoming more and more paranoid. He fears retaliation from the Seven Deadly Sins, and if that were to happen, all you have worked for, all I have learned, would be in jeopardy."
"Don't be afraid, my old friend. In the deepest tragedies, there is always a glimmer of hope. Fear not the shadows that loom, for even in the darkest night, a single candle can illuminate the path ahead. You shall be a great teacher in your own right, passing on the wisdom and lessons learned in this realm to others, just as I have done for you in mortal life."
"Okay...thank you for visiting me, teacher"
"Always, Judas...and goodbye, my old friend."
THE END OF EPISODE 3
Chapter 34: Episode 4: Way Down The Rebel Path...
Summary:
"If someone asks you what went down in Ring Of Limbo on that day, Brother...tell them it's the day the world have died for us." - Anonymous Exorcist (1923 AD)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
...
...
...
*Crackling Noises*
*Crackling Noises Intensify*
The sound of electrical crackling and the high-pitched whine of a cathode ray tube coming to life. These sounds accompany as a old, tube-style television set as its screen flickers and static dances across it. The crackling noises continue as the screen stabilizes, briefly showing a black and white test pattern before transitioning into a clear image:
The screen transitions to show a cheerful, animated sequence. The art style is reminiscent of Pre-1950s promotional cartoons, with bold colors and exaggerated, friendly features. A somekind of sinner with Black Halo above him is pouring down the water on the flower in a very futuristic room. The next screen shows him waving to the tv viewers with a huge smile, before a massive gear-shaped with number 666-13 rolls over to seal that sinner inside the bunker..
The scene then cuts to a live-action shot of a male and female sinner couple. They're dressed in pre-1950s-style clothing but with hellish touches. They stand in front of a massive steel door embedded in the side of a mountain, grinning widely with unnaturally sharp teeth. The male demon speaks enthusiastically, gesturing to the door behind them. The female nods along, her eyes glowing with excitement. A cutaway diagram appears, showing the complex layout of the bunker inside the mountain.
THE VAULT OF THE FUTURE PARADISE !!!
CALL NOW !!!
KL-5743
The screen fades from black, revealing a spinning globe of Hell, complete with layers of infernal Ring. An otherworldly satellite orbits in the opposite direction, its antennae pulsing with eerie energy. A logo makes a full spin around the globe before settling in the foreground.
"UNIVERSAL NEWS"
The screen transitions to a black background with white text:
"Our dedicated boys and girls keep the peace in newly reannexed Outer Limbo"
UNIVERSAL NEWS NETWORK
The text fades, replaced by grainy, sepia-toned footage reminiscent of wartime newsreels. Two white or gray humanoid angels with a black halo and a pair of gradient black-to-grey wings with white on the inside on their backs with two black stripes appeared on the screen.
Their uniforms consist of a long-sleeved gray minidress with a feather-like high collar colored in a gray gradient, a white sash-belt, black leggings, white arm-length gloves and matching heeled thigh-high boots with a single gray stripe at the cuffs. And last but not the least they wear full-head mask with nothing but just two eye-sockets, alongside two large black goat-like horns with thin white grooves on their head.
Suddenly, one angel gestures off-screen with a pistol. The camera pans to reveal a bound imp on its knees, struggling against restraints. Without hesitation, the angel approaches and fires point-blank at the imp's head. He collapses, his leg twitching in a final spasm. A second shot ensures its demise.
The other angel laughs, the sound distorted through the mask and the grainy audio. The executioner, noticing the camera, turns and waves cheerfully, as if having just performed a mundane task. The scene abruptly shifts to a stoic, masked angel standing at attention. Behind him or her, a flag waves proudly, featuring a horizontal cross extending to the edges with a pentagram star at its center.
Bold text appears over this image:
SUPPORT OUR KNIGHTS OF EXORCISM
BUY
WAR
BONDS
As the segment ends, the image begins to distort slightly, hinting the signal's degradation. The TV did however continue with it's broadcasting, this time...for an vintage car.
INFERGA
The screen shows a sleek, muscular car with an aggressive front grille and flame-like patterns along its sides. The car slowly rotates on a circular platform, gleaming under dramatic lighting. Suddenly, the view shifts to the interior, showcasing luxurious leather seats with intricate demonic symbols stitched into the headrests.
FULL ANALOG SYSTEM !!!
NO ELECTRONICS !!!
NO COMPUTERS !!!
The camera pans across the dashboard, lingering on the analog gauges and the lack of any digital displays. It zooms in on the gearshift, shaped like a miniature pitchfork. The scene then cuts to the car speeding down a highway that seems to be made of burning brimstone, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
800+ HELLHORSE POWER !!!
0 TO 60 IN 5 SECS !!!
ONLY 199.999.999 PURGATORY POINTS !!!
Finally, the car comes to a stop in front of a lavish, hellish mansion. A well-dressed Sinner with black halo above him steps out, tossing the keys to a grinning imp valet.
CHRYSLA INFERGA
"DRIVING FOR PARADISE !!!"
The static grows more ominous and intense as it goes...with another series of advertisements.
MR. HANDY
"HE'S SOOOOO HANDY!"
The screen shows a gleaming, spherical robot hovering in a 1950s-style kitchen. It has multiple arms extending from its body, each ending in a different tool or attachment. Its large, friendly "eye" swivels to face the camera.
WALKS THE CARAGORS
The scene cuts to Mr. Handy effortlessly guiding a leashed caragor down a sidewalk of brimstone. The robot uses one arm to hold the leash, another to wave at passing Limbonian Sinners, and a third to clean up after the pet with a small flame-thrower.
TENDS YOUR GARDEN
Next, the scren shows Mr. Handy in a garden of carnivorous plants and flame-spewing flowers. It prunes thorny vines with a saw attachment, waters fiery blossoms with liquid, and uses its built-in pesticide sprayer to ward off a swarm of tiny Limbonian native bees.
AND-
*Crackling Noises Intensify*
The advertisement seems about to list another feature when the signal begins to deteriorate. The image of Mr. Handy becomes increasingly distorted, its cheerful robotic voice warping into an unsettling garble as static overtakes the screen.
Finally, the image on the TV becomes completely overtaken by static, and the signal is lost. The screen flickers a few times before going dark, the soft glow fading away. As the picture tube dims, the ambient sounds of the world beyond the TV replaced the sounds.
All that time, the television set is perched precariously on a broken table in a dilapidated room. Dust particles dance in the air, visible in the rays of sickly light filtering through shattered windows. Tattered, burned curtains sway gently in a hot, sulfurous breeze. Crumbling walls are adorned with peeling wallpaper, depicting cheerful scenes now turned grotesque by decay and ash. A fallen chandelier lies shattered on the floor, its crystals dulled by a thick layer of grime.
Through the gaping hole where a wall once stood, was...a cityscape. Towering skyscrapers, once proud symbols of progress, now stand as skeletal remnants of their former glory. Some lean precariously, others have partially collapsed, creating a jagged skyline against a red, smog-filled sky. This apartment is just one of countless similar scenes of devastation stretching as far as the eye can see. The once-bustling metropolis now lies silent and abandoned, a testament to the cataclysmic event that reshaped the Ring Of Limbo.
✝Magne Inferno⛧: Episode 4
...
...
...
"They used to tell me it wasn't good for my soul, to be like us..."
...
"They locked us out...outcasted us..."
...
"And then Hell itself took everything from us...because of the way I was: My way of mortal life, my choices...and my morality."
...
...
...
"Then came Archangel Azrael..."
"He listened our desire for revenge...he told us the problems of the mind are not the problems of the soul."
...
...
...
"I only had one thing to give up for The Order of Exorcism...my humanity."
...
...
...
"Some in Heaven would say...we never had it anyway..."
Chapter 33: Way Down The Rebel Path...
October 2, 2025, AD (93 Days Before The Next Purge), 2:12 AM.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Somewhere in Outer Limbo Wasteland/
...
...
...
"Kzzt... Exorcist RS-XIX-14, Overwatch requests damage assessment... Kzzt..."
...
...
...
"Kzzt... Exorcist RS-XIX-14, Overwatch requests damage assessment... Kzzt..."
*Gasp*
Rönne Schaffer's eyes snapped open. Thick, acrid smoke filled his lungs, causing him to choke and gasp. The burning train compartment swam into focus, flames licking at the edges of his vision. Fighting against the suffocating fog, Rönne fumbled for his mask on his belt. His fingers closed around it and he pressed it to his face, coughing in agony as he struggled to take a breath. After a few agonizing moments, clean air from the mask's filters filled his lungs and his breathing steadied.
Rönne blinked, taking in his surroundings. He was alone in the burning cargo hold, the heat intense. A sharp pain drew his attention to his left arm. Yellow blood seeped from a deep gash, staining his sleeve.
"Kzzt...Exorcist RS-XIX-14, what is your status? Kzzt..."
Gathering his strength, Rönne would slowly get up, pain rather unbearable even for an Exorcist. He once more glanced around to see if someone else was around him. But so far, he was alone. Ignoring Overwatch for now, Rönne's mind raced as the memories flooded back. The hostage situation, the deal, and then... chaos. He grimaced, realizing his mission was far from over. If the body of Prince Gaap wasn't here then he was still out there, and Rönne had a job to finish.
"Kzzt... Exorcist RS-XIX-14, what is your status? Kzzt..."
Fighting through the pain in his arm, he pushed himself up, scanning the wreckage for any sign. The train car was a maze of twisted metal and burning debris. Smoke obscured his vision, but he could make out vague shapes of bodies strewn about.
Rönne stepped out of the smoldering train compartment, the harsh landscape of Limbo stretching before him. The scene that greeted him was one of utter devastation. The derailed train had carved a path of destruction through the barren terrain, coming to a catastrophic halt at the edge of a massive bridge. The impact had been so severe that large sections of the bridge had collapsed, leaving a gaping chasm in the structure.
Debris and small fires dotted the area, creating a treacherous obstacle course. Some of the train compartments teetered precariously on the edge of the broken bridge, while others had already plummeted into the valley below. The canyon walls were lined with a series of enormous, yawning caverns.
"Kzzt... RS-XIX-14, what is your status? Kzzt..."
Releasing a breath, he adjusted his earpiece before finally responding.
"Exorcist RS-XIX-14 reporting in. Damage: 70...80% 9- " He then looks around, thinking it was too generous for the damage assessment. "Total..."
There was a pause before the reply came.
"Kzzt... Total? Kzzt..."
Before Rönne could respond, a loud groan of metal filled the air. He watched as one of the train compartments, balanced on the edge of the broken bridge, finally lost its battle with gravity. It tipped slowly at first, then gained speed as it plummeted into the canyon. The sound of its impact echoed through the valley, a thunderous boom that seemed to shake the very ground.
"Total." Rönne muttered into his comm, giving a total and full verdict.
"Kzzt... Understood. Additional reinforcements are being dispatched to your location. ETA unknown due to Limbo's unstable terrain. What is your mission status? Kzzt..."
Rönne's jaw clenched as he considered his response. Eh, it's been nothing but shitshow since Adam's unfortunate idea.
"Mission status..." He began, his eyes scanning the wreckage for any sign of movement or life. "Mission is still in progress. Target location unknown. Proceeding with caution, over."
"Kzz Acknowledged...carry on. "Kzzt..."
Ending the channel, Rönne's eyes scanned the chaotic landscape, assessing his options. The wreckage stretched out before him, a maze of twisted metal and scattered debris. If Prince Gaap wasn't among this carnage, the only other possibility was that he had somehow ended up in the canyon below. The thought of descending into that treacherous terrain made Rönne's jaw clench, not liking it all.
Just as he was contemplating the safest route down, a sound cut through the ambient noise of crackling fires and groaning metal. It was a cry – distinctly feminine and filled with anguish. Rönne turned towards the source, his hand instinctively moving to his weapon. As he approached, the figure came into view. It was Olivia, the Lady-in-Waiting to Marquise Octavia of Ars Goetia. She was on her knees, her face buried in her hands as heart-wrenching sobs shook her body.
Cautiously, Rönne approached her. He holstered his weapon, recognizing that she posed no immediate threat in her current state. As he drew closer, his trained eyes noticed a wound on Olivia's arm. It wasn't severe, but blood was seeping from the cut, staining her elegant attire.
"Lady Olivia," Rönne called out, his voice firm but not unkind. He kept a safe distance, unsure of how she might react to an Exorcist's presence after everything that transpired. "You're wounded..."
Olivia's sobs quieted at the sound of his voice. She lowered her hands, revealing a tear-stained face as she looked up at Rönne with a desperation.
"Off-course I'm wounded, you masked son of a bitch!" Olivia cursed at him, not caring at the elegancy of Ars Goetia. Knowing that she is stranded in the middle of nowhere with no food or water already was enough for her. "This was supposed to be a simple assassination...not a complete shitshow Express!"
Rönne remained impassive in the face of Olivia's outburst, his face hiding any reaction he might have had to her crude language.
"Things didn't go according to plan. Blame I.R.A for this." Rönne simply said, his voice level as he crouched down, careful not to appear threatening. "It happens. But all that matters right now is you survived it, Olivia. Be grateful you're not dead by the hands of raiders."
Rönne's measured response seemed to have an effect on Olivia. Her anger deflated slightly, but not enough to calm down.
"We're in the middle of nowhere because of your rebel friends!" Olivia winced, touching her wounded arm gingerly. Despite her accusations, Olivia's voice had lost some of its earlier venom. She glanced around in full worry, as if suddenly realizing something. "H-have you seen Lady Octavia by chance?"
"I haven't seen anyone else yet," Rönne replied calmly. He could see the conflicting emotions playing across Olivia's face - fear, anger and full worry for her Lady. "Can you walk?"
"I cannot stop the bleeding..." Olivia's gaze shifted to her wound. The bleeding, while not severe, needed to be addressed before they could move safely.
"You were never taught in first aid, are you?" Rönne once more sighed, seeing that he have to do it by himself.
"I'm Ars Goetia, we don't do that stuff." Olivia sighed, already regretting not knowing that. "Just please be an gentlemen once and help this lady with her bad luck."
"I don't have any bandages. We'll have to improvise." He patted his satchel, confirming what he already knew. His eyes scanned Olivia's elaborate dress, giving him an idea. "We can use a piece of your dress as a makeshift bandage. It's not ideal, but it will help stop the bleeding."
"My, my, Exorcist." Olivia raised an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her beak despite the situation. "Taking advantage of a woman in her dire situation? How very ungentlemanly of you."
"Okay...but why?" Rönne tilted his head slightly, confusion evident in his posture. "This is a medical necessity."
Olivia stared at him for a moment, then let out a short, exasperated sigh. "Never mind. You Exorcists really don't have a sense of humor, do you?"
Without further comment, she reached down and tore a strip from the bottom of her dress. Rönne took the offered fabric, his movements efficient and clinical as he began to wrap Olivia's wound.
"This should hold for now." Rönne remarked as he finished with handmade bandage. He then offered her to assist in getting her up. "But it's not effective enough for the wound to heal. We'll need to find proper medical supplies soon."
"I will be fine." Olivia assured as she got up on her heels, still rather weak. "Just...find Gaap and do what you must...I will find Octavia in the meantime."
"Worried about me now, Exorcist? How touching." Olivia smirked, though there was a hint of appreciation in her eyes. "But don't you fret; I've survived worse than this. Pandemonim was ten times worse than this."
"I don't doubt it." Rönne replied, a hint of dry humor in his voice. "Good luck, Lady Olivia. I hope you find Marquise Octavia safely."
With a final nod to each other, they prepared to part ways. Rönne turned towards the direction Gaap had reportedly gone, while Olivia steeled herself to begin her search for Octavia.
The Exorcist made his way, his steps careful and measured. The landscape around him was littered with debris and the fallen bodies of I.R.A rebels and Militech Corporate Mercenaries. The sight made Rönne tense, but also somewhat relieved. The untouched state of the bodies suggested they were far from any raider camps or Buzzards preferred to stay away from wreckages from now...they territorial bastards but usually sticked to themselves.
As he rounded a large piece of twisted metal, Rönne spotted his target. Prince Gaap was struggling to lift a piece of wreckage to clear his path, his efforts futile. Gaap's mumbling reached Rönne's ears as he approached him.
"Blasted... should've stayed in my mansion. All this for what? For some book that nobody gives a shit? Plebian fools, the lot of them in Ars Goetia..."
*Ahem* Rönne stepped closer, his hands resting casually on his belt. He cleared his throat deliberately, causing Gaap to whirl around in surprise.
"You!" Gaap exclaimed, stumbling backward before regaining his footing. He quickly drew his rapier, pointing it at Rönne with a trembling hand. "Are you Exorcists hadn't enough already with us? The attack on Pandemonium and Death of your leader by the hands of Princess didn't send you a clear message?"
"Prince Gaap" Rönne sighed, adjusting his cowboy hat before speaking. "You must understand both Heaven and The Order of Exorcism quite well. We will persist, no matter what. We've lost much, but we endure no matter what."
Gaap's eyes narrowed, a mix of fear and defiance in his voice.
"You can't touch me, Exorcunt. I'm a Prince of Ars Goetia, protected by ancient laws by Lucifer and his treaty of —"
"Treaty? Partner, you're in fucking Ring Of Limbo, with nothing here but ruins of old and sand consuming everything. The Peace Treaty the King of Hell signed only works in Pride Ring. We can do whatever we want in other rings..." Rönne interrupted, a cold edge to his voice. He paused for a moment, wanting to reveal him something. "W hich brings us here now. Did you ever wonder how Ars Bael of Goetia met his end?" He paused, letting the implication sink in. "It wasn't chance or internal politics. It was us. The Exorcists."
Gaap's face paled, his rapier wavering. "That's... that's impossible. You couldn't have...NO!"
"I assure you, Your highness." Rönne slowly drew his revolver, the metal glinting in the harsh light of Limbo. "Nothing is impossible for those with the will to act. You took our Father of Mankind...we took your Emperor of Goetia."
"W-what-y-you-YOU CAN'T DO THIS!?" Gaap finally screamed, his earlier bravado crumbling. "I'm barely an adult Goetia. You can't just kill an teenager!!!"
Once more, Rönne responded with an pathetic stare. Instead, he simply responded the way Azrael intends to. "Prince Gaap, ask this Exorcist in front of you a serious question: what was the lowest age of an demon he killed was?"
"I-I-I...21, I-I-I think." Gaap assumed.
"Wrong answer." Rönne would only shake his head as he raised his revolver at Gaap. "It was an Imp: 4 years old at the time."
Just as Rönne's finger tightened on the trigger, the cold press of steel against his temple froze him in place.
"Stick 'em up, Cowboy," A gravelly voice drawled from behind.
"I was wondering if you'd survived our little train mishap, Striker." Without turning, Rönne kept his revolver trained on Gaap, his voice steady despite the gun at his head.
"Takes more'n a derailed express to put me in the ground, Exorcist." Striker chuckled grimly. Much to Gaap's relief, his bodyguard arrived, battered as the rest. "Now, how 'bout you lower that piece 'fore things get messy?"
"You know I can't do this." Rönne's fingers tightened on his gun. "Like I mentioned before, it doesn't have to end like this. My benefactors above could make it worth your while."
"Heh," Striker scoffed. "I ain't the type to welch on a contract, Exorcist. Mr. Crimson's payin' me to keep this Royal Pain-in-the-Ass breathin', so that's what I aim to do. Anyone tries to change that... well, they'll be meetin' their maker right quick."
"Hmm...seems we got ourselves a real conflict of interest here." Rönne's voice dropped low, steel beneath the calm. "And this time Hell ain't big enough for the both of us to be playin' hide and seek, Striker."
"Then I reckon one of us is gonna have to leave." Striker replied, his tone matching Rönne's intensity. "Question is... who's it gonna be?"
The tension crackled between them, neither Exorcist Cowboy nor Cowboy of Wrath willing to back down. Gaap watched wide-eyed, caught between the two deadly gunslingers, as the standoff stretched on under the unforgiving Limbo sky. Rönne remained silent for a long moment. Then, with deliberate slowness, he holstered his revolver and looked back at Striker. Striker, smirking at the unspoken challenge, did the same.
Making an distance from each other, with Striker made sure he went closer to Gaap, just in case if his friend would try to cheat. And so the two gunslingers faced each other, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Gaap, sensing the shift in the air, scrambled away to hide in metal debris for what was about to become a deadly arena.
The Duel between Imp Of Wrath and Exorcist From Legion Of Wrath begins...
Rönne and Striker stood motionless, hands hovering near their holsters. The wind whistled through the wreckage around them, carrying the acrid smell of smoke and metal. In the distance, a piece of debris creaked and fell, the sound echoing across the barren landscape.
Striker's eyes narrowed, his fingers twitching ever so slightly. Rönne's stance widened imperceptibly, his breath steady and controlled. The Ring of Limbo seemed to hold its breath. Even the fires from the crash appeared to burn more quietly, as if nature itself was waiting for the outcome of this confrontation.
Rönne's face betrayed no emotion, but behind it, his mind raced, calculating angles and timing. Striker's tail flicked once, then stilled, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to release. The moment stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. The slightest movement, the faintest twitch would trigger an explosion of action that would end as quickly as it began.
Just as the tension reached its breaking point, just as both hands began their lightning-fast move towards their weapons, a scream cut through the air.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"
It was Olivia's voice, distant but unmistakable, filled with terror and urgency. Rönne and Striker froze, their hands mere inches from their revolvers. Their eyes met once more, but this time with a shared look of surprise and confusion. The duel forgotten for the moment, both turned towards the source of the scream, a new and unexpected challenge presenting itself in the Limbo.
The air around them filled with an eerie howling, growing louder by the second. Dozens of glowing red eyes appeared in the fog surrounding them, creating a circle of menacing pinpoints of light. From the mist emerged a terrifying sight: a Hellhound, but unlike any they had seen before. The creature wore makeshift armor cobbled together from scrap metal and bones. Spikes protruded from its shoulders and back, and its muzzle was covered by a grotesque mask fashioned from a rusted car grille. Tattered cloth and chains hung from its form, giving it an even more intimidating silhouette.
The armored Hellhound raised a crude, yet wickedly sharp sword, its voice guttural as it spoke. "1) Sonunda, taze et uluma alanımıza geldi. Vahşi Av başladığı için Lycaon'a şükürler olsun!"
Striker and Rönne instinctively moved closer together, their earlier animosity temporarily set aside in the face of this new threat. Striker's tail twitched nervously as he readied his revolver.
"Friends of yours, Exorcist?" Striker asked sarcastically, his eyes darting between the multiple threats surrounding them.
"Worse..." Rönne pulled out his carbine, his voice grim as he responded. "They're Great Hellhounds, the remnant of Lycaon's hordes."
The Exorcist hoped it would not come to this. Despite their vicious and brutish ways. The Hellhounds who cling to the past are supposed to be a dying breed, their numbers dwindling since Lycaon's fall and eventual enslavement by Inferno. Yet here they were, in force, their presence a chilling reminder that ancient grudges never truly disappear.
The circle of red eyes tightened around Exorcist and Striker, the howling reaching a fever pitch. The armored Hellhound raised its sword high, preparing to signal the attack. In that moment, time seemed to slow for the Exorcist. He could feel Striker's back pressed against his with rapid breathing.
As the Hellhound's sword began its downward arc, Rönne steeled himself. This wasn't how he had envisioned his mission unfolding, but he'd be damned if this Exorcist would go down without a fight. Beside him, he sensed Striker coming to the same resolution. Exorcist and imp, natural enemies turned reluctant allies by circumstance, braced themselves for the onslaught. The uneasy alliance of necessity was about to be put to the ultimate test, as the horrors of Limbo closed in around them.
"3) Av başlıyor!"
Suddenly, the armored Hellhound let out a bone-chilling howl. As if a switch had been flipped, the horde surged forward. The air filled with the deafening boom of gunfire as Rönne and Striker opened fire. Muzzle flashes illuminated the scene in strobing bursts, against the attacking Hellhounds.
Rönne's carbine spat lead in controlled bursts, each shot finding its mark with deadly precision. Hellhounds yelped and stumbled as bullets tore through their makeshift armor. Striker's revolver thundered, its heavy caliber rounds punching through multiple targets with each shot. But for every Hellhound that fell, two more seemed to take its place. They came in waves, gnashing teeth and slashing claws barely held at bay by the gunfire.
A particularly bold Hellhound leaped at Rönne, jaws wide. Without missing a beat, the Exorcist swung his carbine like a club, catching the beast mid-air with a sickening crunch. It crumpled to the ground, whimpering. Striker ducked under a swinging blade, retaliating with a point-blank shot that left a smoking hole in the attacker's chest.
"How many of them, partner?!" Striker called out, his voice strained.
As if in response to Striker's words, the ground began to tremble. The Hellhounds paused their assault, backing away slightly as a massive figure emerged from the mist. A particular towered over its kin, its muscular form covered in thick plates of scavenged armor. In its hands, it wielded a enormous club studded with rusted spikes and shards of metal.
"4) Gece Avcısı savaşa girdi!" The Hellhounds chanted, their voices a mix of fear and reverence.
The Nightbuckler's eyes locked onto Rönne and Striker. With a roar that shook the very air, it charged forward, club raised high.
"Move!" Rönne shouted, diving to one side as Striker leapt in the opposite direction.
The Nightbuckler's club came down with earth-shattering force, leaving a crater where the two gunslingers had stood moments before. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, momentarily staggering both Rönne and Striker. Taking advantage of their separation, the Hellhound horde surged forward once more, cutting off any chance of the duo regrouping. Frankly it worked for the best for Striker as he noticed a entrance to cave system...if it would not work for him, then nothing really works on this Satan's forsaken Ring.
"Striker!" Rönne called out, his voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony of snarls and gunfire. It was not possible for him to take aim at Imp nor Gaap.
"Sorry, partner!" Striker shouted back, already backing away with Gaap in tow. "But I got a prince to protect! Have fun with big guy over there!"
With that, he fired a few more shots to clear a path, then disappeared into a nearby cave with Gaap. Some Hellhounds chased after him, but not enough to even the odds.
"Hope they will skin you alive down there, Striker!" Rönne cursed as he focused his attention on far more important problem than Striker.
Once more he took his attention at Hellhounds. Now he is alone, surrounded by gleaming blades. The Nightbuckler turned its attention solely to him, its massive form blocking out what little light filtered through the haze.
As the Hellhounds closed in and the Nightbuckler raised its club for another devastating blow, Rönne's eyes darted around, searching for an escape or for a way out of this seemingly impossible situation. His gaze landed on the partially destroyed train bridge looming nearby. A plan formed in his mind, desperate but daring.
Uncooking the flash grenade and with a burst of speed, Rönne sprinted towards the bridge, weaving through the Hellhound pack who were flashed by his grenade.
"5) ) "Av koşuyor. Yakala onu!" One of the beasts howled, giving chase.
The Nightbuckler's thunderous footsteps shook the ground as it pursued, its massive form demolishing anything in its path. Rönne reached the edge of the bridge, skidding to a stop mere inches from the precipice. He turned, facing the oncoming juggernaut.
"Come on, you oversized mutt! Show me what passes for fury among your misbegotten kind!" Rönne taunted, standing his ground as the Nightbuckler closed in.
At the last possible moment, The Exorcist dove to the side. The Nightbuckler, unable to stop its momentum, swung its club in a wide arc. The massive weapon connected with one of the bridge's main support pillars with a resounding crack. The entire structure groaned ominously. Cracks spider-webbed across the concrete, pieces beginning to crumble away. The Nightbuckler, realizing its mistake too late, let out a confused whine.
Rönne scrambled to his feet, racing across the unstable bridge as it began to give way beneath him. Behind him, the Nightbuckler flailed, its weight causing sections of the bridge to collapse faster. With a deafening roar, the last supports failed. The bridge, along with Exorcist and the Nightbuckler, plummeted towards the canyon below.
As they fell, Rönne spread his wings, using them not to fly, but to guide his descent towards a large chunk of falling debris. He tucked himself behind it, using the massive piece of concrete as both a shield and a way to obscure himself from view. The Nightbuckler wasn't so fortunate. Its enormous bulk and heavy armor sent it plunging like a stone, disappearing into the depths of the canyon with a distant, echoing crash.
Rönne slowly pushed himself up, careful not to dislodge any of the debris around him. He was battered and bruised, but alive. More importantly, he was hidden from view. The Hellhounds' confusion was evident in their agitated howls and the sound of claws scraping against stone as they searched.
6) "Avı göremiyorum! Nereye gitti?" One Hellhound snarled in frustration.
"7) Arayın! O lanet olası melek buralarda bir yerde olmalı!" Another barked in response.
Taking stock of his surroundings, Rönne found himself in a nightmarish landscape of twisted metal and shattered concrete. The remnants of the bridge and countless train cars created a maze. Perfect for staying out of sight, but also full of potential hiding spots for enemies.
Rönne checked his weapons. His carbine's ammo was gone but his trusty revolver remained holstered at his side, unused yet. Ammunition was still limited; he'd have to make every shot count if it came to a fight. For now, though, stealth was his best option. The Hellhounds were on high alert, their keen senses searching for any sign of the Exorcist.
"Guess we do the scout's way then." Rönne crouched low behind a twisted piece of metal, his breath shallow and controlled. The cries of frustrated Hellhounds echoed through the canyon, their hunt for the elusive Exorcist growing more frantic by the minute.
"8) "Kokusu yok! Bu lanet olası melek nasıl bu kadar iyi saklanabilir?" one Hellhound growled, its claws scraping against stone mere feet from Rönne's hiding spot.
"Because you're hunting a predator, you furballs..." Rönne remarked to himself as a grim smile touched lips. The Hellhounds, relying heavily on their keen sense of smell on demons, were confounded by his lack of scent as his angelic nature served as the perfect camouflage.
Carefully, Rönne peered around the edge of his cover. Two Hellhounds prowled nearby, their armored forms silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the canyon. His ammunition was waste of resources, and any gunshot would give away his position. Stealth remained his best ally.
Timing his movements with the Hellhounds' patrol pattern, Rönne slipped from shadow to shadow. Years of Exorcist training kicked in as he moved with a grace that belied his cowboy appearance. When one Hellhound strayed too close, Rönne struck with lightning speed. His hand clamped over the creature's muzzle, muffling its surprised yelp as his other hand drove a knife deep into its throat. The Hellhound went limp, and Rönne gently lowered it to the ground, avoiding any noise that might alert its pack mates.
"9) "Hala iz yok mu? Vicar bizi diri diri yiyecek!" Another Hellhound barked in the distance.
10) "Önemli değil. Hala o Goetia'ya ve biraz Imp'e sahibiz. Burayı yağmalayalım ve mabedimize geri getirelim."
Seems like Hellhounds eased the guard and began to the gather the scraps from the debris. Rönne pressed on, his eyes constantly scanning for threats and potential escape routes. That's when he saw it – a dark opening in the canyon wall, partially obscured by fallen debris. A cave entrance.
With careful pace, he made his way towards the opening. He paused at the threshold, listening intently for any sign of danger from within. Hearing nothing but the distant howls of the Hellhounds, he slipped inside. The temperature dropped noticeably, the rough-hewn walls were slick with moisture, and the air carried a musty, mineral scent.
The tunnel was not entirely natural. Here and there, Rönne could make out signs of excavation – tool marks on the walls, the remnants of support beams, and the occasional rusted piece of equipment half-buried in rubble. This was no simple cave.
"Hmm...Pre-War mines?" Rönne asked himself, recalling fragments of his memories. It could this be one of the mines used by the Heaven Mandate of Limbo?
During the early days of the conflict between Heaven and Hell, before the Great War for Limbo occurred, The Ring Of Limbo was a home to one of the rarest minerals in Inferno...Limbonius Ore. Like the Empyrean material, these ores, imbued with unique properties from Limbo's fauna, were said to be instrumental in the creation of some of Heaven's most powerful blessed weaponry. The Limbo fall had been sudden and catastrophic, their outposts and mines abandoned in haste, leaving for anyone to loot this place in ease.
According The Eye of Providence, that is why any raider in Limbo would be packing with blessed weapons in their arsenal. Although mostly equipped crude and low-tier quality of pipe-weapons, they still pose a threat even to an Exorcist. And If this was indeed one of those ancient mines, it could contain some leftovers – or unspeakable dangers.
The Hellhounds still searched for him outside, making going back impossible for now. His mission to eliminate Prince Gaap complicated more than ever. And somewhere out there, Olivia's fate remained unknown....thanks alot, Phenex.
With a deep breath, Rönne steeled himself and pressed deeper into the cave. He moved through the winding tunnels with caution, his senses on high alert. The cave's oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional drip of water and the crunch of gravel beneath his feet.
Suddenly, a muffled cry echoed through the cavern, stopping Rönne in his tracks. It was faint, but unmistakable - a call for help. His mind immediately went to Olivia. Could she have ended up down here after Hounds captured her? No sensing to just stop, Rönne pressed forward, moving as silently as his training allowed. The cries grew louder, guiding him through the labyrinthine passages. As he rounded a corner, the tunnel opened into a vast chamber that made his blood run cold.
The cavern before him could only be described as a nightmarish sanctuary. Remnants of its original purpose as a mine were barely visible beneath the macabre decorations that now adorned its walls. Rönne's eyes were drawn upward, where numerous bodies of demons hung from the ceiling - disturbing even from Exorcist's glance.
In the center of the chamber stood a crude stone altar, upon which...Olivia laid on it. She was restrained, her form was completely naked while strange ritualistic symbols were drawn on her. Olivia struggled against her bonds, and screaming in muffled tone as her eyes wide with terror.
"What witchcraft is this?" Rönne wondered why in Lord's name Olivia is being used for. But it was the figure standing over Olivia that truly captured Exorcist's attention. A female Hellhound unlike any he had ever encountered before. Her appearance was a stark contrast to the brutish raiders he had faced earlier.
The Hellhound Shaman, for that was surely what she was, moved with grace despite the blindfold covering her eyes. Her white and grey fur seemed to glow in the dim light of the chamber, and the elaborate headdress she wore, adorned with massive antlers, gave her an otherworldly presence.
As Rönne watched from the shadows as the Shaman began to speak once more.
"11) Uzun zaman oldu, bir Goetia buralarda görülmeyeli. Lycaon'un kanla olan susuzluğunu dindirmek için seni kurban etmekten onur duyuyorum." The Shaman's hands moved with practiced ease, applying some kind of powder to Olivia's skin in intricate patterns.
Olivia could only but plead Vicar to release her trough the muffled screams, even despite that her beak was blocked with cloth. Once Vicar finished with drawning, she would grab Olivia's face and bring it closer to hers, her next words were filled with bitterness:
"12) Senin türün, Cehennem Tazılarına yalnızca sefalet getirdi. Şimdi, dengeler değişecek."
"Shit..." Rönne's cursed, seeing he has to intervene very soon. There is No doubt he will be outnumbered and outgunned, should he attack that Shaman directly. But Olivia's life hung in the balance, and any wrong move could spell disaster for them both.
He won't lie to himself, a thought appeared to just wait it out and let Olivia be sacrificed...then again Olivia is rather a...she is caught herself in middle of Phenex's scheming and Heaven's perpetual attempts to undermine Hell. Once he swore to protect the Limbo at all cost and now...now he really doesn't know.
Seems like he will have to think fast as the Vicar raised her arms, her voice resonating through the chamber as she began the ritual. Her words was that Hellhound native dialect.
"13) "Ay'ı ve atalarımızı, Vicarians'ı kutsasın! Bu kurbanın onuruna, Cehennem Tazıları bir kez daha bozkırlarda özgürce dolaşacak!
The Vicar then produced a ceremonial dagger, its blade glinting ominously in the dim light. When Olivia saw it, her screams intensify, to the point of tears as she begged for her father and brother or Octavia to come and rescue her. Rönne tensed, his hand moving to his revolver. As the Vicar raised it above Olivia, he prepared to spring into action, consequences be damned at this point.
"VICAR!"
Suddenly, the chamber's entrance burst open. A Hellhound rushed in, his eyes wide with urgency. 14) "Vicar! Affedersiniz, ritüeli böldüğüm için!"
15) "Sorun değil. Ne oldu?" Vicar's voice was calm as she lowered the dagger, her blindfolded gaze turning to the newcomer.
16) "Davetsiz misafirler! Kutsal yerimize girdiler!"
The Vicar's posture stiffened at the news. Rönne's brow furrowed as he opted to observe the situation, still not sure what is going.
"17) Kimler? Kaç kişiler?"
"18)İ "ki imp ve Goetia'dan oluşan bir grup. Ayrıca bir... Cehennem köpeği, konuşmacım." The scout replied, his voice tinged with confusion.
"19) "Bir cehennem köpeği mi? O bizden biri mi... Belki de Fenrir?" The Vicar's composure cracked for a moment, her voice sharp with surprise.
"20) Bilmiyorum, Vicar. Öyle görünmüyor." Hellhound shook his head.
A tense silence fell over the chamber as the Vicar's mind seemed to think of the plan behind her blindfold. Finally, she spoke once more, her voice regaining its authoritative tone.
"21) "Ritüel ertelenecek. Bu davetsiz misafirleri bizzat karşılayacağım." She turned to the gathered Hellhounds. "Hepiniz ana salonda toplanın. Hazır olun."
Without any second of delay, Hellhounds began to file out, following their leader's commands. Rönne watched as the Vicar swept out of the chamber, her antlered headdress cutting an imposing silhouette. He knew he had to act fast. With the Hellhounds distracted, this might be his only chance to free Olivia.
As the last echoes of the Vicar's footsteps faded, he seized his moment. With practiced stealth, he crept from his hiding spot, approaching the lone Hellhound guard from behind. In one swift motion, he struck, his blade finding its mark with deadly precision. The guard crumpled silently to the ground.
Olivia's muffled scream pierced the air as she caught sight of Rönne, her eyes wide with fear and desperate hope. Rönne quickly moved to her side, his hands working deftly to undo the chains binding her wrists.
"Consider yourself very lucky today, lady Olivia." Rönne muttered, his voice gruff but tinged with relief. "If not for that fortunate time. You would been dead."
As the last chain fell away, Olivia didn't hesitate. She threw herself at Rönne, wrapping her arms around him in a desperate embrace. Her body shook with sobs as she buried her face in his shoulder, the ordeal of her captivity finally catching up with her.
Rönne stiffened at the sudden contact, caught off guard by the raw emotion of the moment. For a brief instant, his training screamed at him to push away, to maintain the distance that had been drilled into him as an Exorcist. But something deeper, a part of himself he thought long buried, responded to Olivia's vulnerability. With a soft sigh, he relaxed, carefully returning the embrace. His hand moved to pat her back gently, an awkward but sincere attempt at comfort.
"Th-they-" Olivia sobbed, whimpering. "They wanted-"
"It's alright now," He murmured, his voice low and soothing, preferring that she won't finish her thoughts. Trauma of the soul don't scatter away that easily. "You're safe. Everything's going to be okay."
Olivia's sobs gradually subsided as Rönne returned her need of assurance. She nestled closer, her beak gently brushing against Rönne's neck.
"I could stay like this all day with you...you're so soft." Olivia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rönne felt a twinge of something unfamiliar - a warmth he hadn't experienced in a long time. But with it came a sharp reminder of who he was, and the dangers that still surrounded them. He gently disentangled himself from Olivia's embrace, a wry smile touching his lips.
"You'll have to find someone else for that, I'm afraid," He said, his tone light but tinged with a hint of regret. Then, his expression sobered. "We can't stick around here. It's not safe."
Glancing around the chamber, Rönne spotted Olivia's discarded Goetian clothes nearby. He quickly retrieved them, offering them to her with averted eyes.
"Here, Get dressed. I'm getting you out of here." He said firmly.
Olivia hurriedly donned her clothing to not waste time. In the meantime, Rönne's formulated their next move. He doesn't like it that Vicar abrupted the ritual, meaning it has to be something serious. Maybe it's Gaap and Striker got caught by Hellhounds...if it's true then this advantage wouldn't last long. They needed to find a way out of these tunnels, and fast.
"I'm ready." Olivia signaled, wiping tear drops from her eyes.
Now that she was fully clothed, Rönne and Olivia moved swiftly through the winding tunnels. The air grew thick and damp as they ventured deeper into the cave system, their footsteps echoing softly off the rough-hewn walls. For several long moments, they moved in tense silence, both acutely aware of the dangers that could be lurking in the shadows.
Finally, as they paused at a fork in the path, Olivia broke the silence.
"You never told your name before?"
"Exorcist Knight-Lieutenant RS-XIX-14 Codenamed "Deadeye" of II Wrath Legion." Rönne said it like it was Grandmaster himself who asked him, as he rather busy typing on his wrist PDA, checking the map layout of the mines.
"No silly, I mean your real name." Olivia chuckled, finding it cute.
There was a sincere paused from him, as he glanced around, making sure that nobody was here.
"It's Rönne, Lady Olivia." Rönne said it firmly...but decided to fix his tone for her, seeing that she just wants to know him. "Well, my name is Rönne Shaffer...or Kray sometimes...it's a long story."
"I just want to thank you again for saving me," Olivia said, her eyes meeting his. "And... I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to go off alone like that. I should have known better."
"On the bright side, you missed out on quite a fight with the Hellhounds. In one way, you're were lucky that they didn't kill you on spot and instead brought you here." Rönne glanced back at her, a hint of a wry smile touching his lips.
Olivia nodded, but there was a question in her eyes. After a moment's hesitation, she voiced it.
"Why did you rescue me in the first place? I mean... aren't Exorcists supposed to, well, kill Demons indiscriminately?"
Rönne remained silent, considering his words carefully. Still it's an difficult topic to talk about without mentioning politics and what-not these days...
"When I saw you in that chamber... I knew you needed help. Leaving you there, it just felt... wrong." His voice was low and thoughtful. "I know what Ars Goetia might say about Exorcists but we're not that different, Olivia. Every Exorcist, behind their mask, is a soul with emotions and thoughts. We're not just mindless killing machines, despite what some might think even in Heaven." He turned to face Olivia fully. "Like you, we experience love, friendship, and kindness when needed. And we unleash our fury when necessary."
"I understand..." Olivia said softly. "I guess I never really thought about Exorcists as... like this."
"That we can do good, huh?" Rönne nodded, a shadow passing over his features. Many in Heaven wonder that too about Exorcists. "But I won't pretend that I'm hurt by it. I hear a lot from Winners. Just know we're more complex than most give us credit for. But right now, we need to focus on getting out of here alive. Stay close, and keep your eyes open. We're not out of danger yet."
With a confident nod from Lady-In-Waiting, Rönne and Olivia pressed on through the winding tunnels, their senses alert for any sign of danger. The narrow passage gradually widened, opening into a larger cavern. As they stepped into the more spacious area, the air shifted subtly. Rönne's instincts flared in warning.
"Wait," He hissed, throwing out an arm to stop Olivia. His eyes scanned the shadows, catching glimpses of movement in the darkness. "I don't like this..."
As if on cue, guttural howls echoed through the cavern. Hellhounds emerged from hidden crevices, their eyes gleaming with malice in the dim light.
"Olivia, hide!" Rönne commanded, pushing her towards a cluster of boulders. Without waiting for a response, he spun to face the approaching Hellhounds. His revolver appeared in his hand as if by magic, its report thundering through the cavern. Two Hellhounds fell before they could close the distance, but more were coming.
Rönne's movements were a blur of precision and deadly grace. He dodged slashing claws, retaliating with well-placed shots and lightning-fast knife strikes. For a moment, it seemed he might overcome the odds...then the ground shook. A massive form dropped from an overhead ledge, landing with earth-shaking force. The Nightbuckler, the same juggernaut from the earlier battle, had joined the fray. Its eyes locked onto Rönne, burning with recognition and fury.
"You again!" Rönne screamed in disbellief. How much that brute can withstand?!
The Nightbuckler charged, its enormous club whistling through the air. Rönne dove to the side, feeling the wind of the near-miss ruffle his feathers. He came up firing, but his bullets seemed to have little effect on the behemoth's thick hide and makeshift armor.
The dance continued with Exorcist's agility keeping him just out of reach of the devastating blows. But the Nightbuckler was relentless, and the confined space of the cavern limited Rönne's options for evasion. Finally, inevitably, the Nightbuckler's luck changed. A particularly vicious swing caught Rönne as he attempted to dart past. The impact sent him flying, his body slamming into the cavern wall with bone-jarring force. The wall exploded inward in a shower of rocks and dust.
Rönne slumped to the ground, momentarily stunned. Through blurred vision, he saw a that there was another Goetia standing near him, shocked.
"Why hello there!" Rönne greeted her just like that...despite having just been thrown through a wall, his voice was remarkably casual.
Though before anything could come up from it. Nightbuckler didn't finished the fight. Through the hole in the wall he lumbered towards him,
"AWWOOOO!" His voice was like gravel in a meat grinder.
The Exorcist Deadeye rolled smoothly to his feet, dust falling from his duster coat as he prepared himself. The Hellhound Juggernaut answered with action rather as well, bringing his massive hammer down in an arc that would have pulverized anything it hit.
Rönne moved with impossible speed, clearing the impact zone as the weapon cratered the floor. Taking the opportunity, he drew his revolver—a gleaming thing that hummed with blessed energy. The gun barked once, the sound oddly musical in the stone chamber. Hellhound head snapped back, a bloom of blood spraying from his mask. For a moment, the massive Hellhound swayed on his feet. Then, slowly, he toppled backward, his hammer slipping from lifeless fingers to crash against the stone floor.
Finally, the Exorcist twirled his revolver before holstering it, taking a deep breath and clutching his wound. He slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to his side where Nightbuckler had landed a glancing blow.
"I'm getting too old for this bullshit!" He muttered, yellow blood seeping between his fingers.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT?!" That Goetia finally made her voice to be known.
"Oh, that?" The Exorcist waved his free hand dismissively, somehow making the gesture look sardonic. "Just your Limbo variety Nightbuckler. Biggest sons of bitches the Buzzards ever bred. Makes your average Hellhound look like a..."
He trailed off as his gaze finally settled properly on her. Turns it was Octavia who like Olivia also saw a lot of fighting judging by the bruises and scratches. Her's hand moved to the hilt of her sword, her movements deliberate. Rönne's posture changed too, straightening despite his injury as his fingers ghosted over his blessed revolver.
They drew their weapons in perfect synchronization, the blessed revolver and Octavia's sword pointing at each other across the debris-strewn space.
"You really want to do this dance again, princess?" Rönne's spurs clinked as he shifted his stance. "Because I seem to recall our last tango ended with you hogtied and cursing up a storm that would make a succubus blush."
"I'm ready for you this time." Octavia's eyes narrowed, magic crackling between her fingers. "I will enjoy the brain damage I will do to you from me kicking your sanctimonious ass back to Heaven in pieces."
"Oh, aren't you a clever one. Still finding your feathery ass in places they've got no business being?" He tilted his head, the gesture somehow conveying amusement despite. "But sweetheart, you're in the enemy territory now. Limbo ain't exactly the palace grounds for you."
"Please," Octavia scoffed, though her grip on her sword remained steady. "I've seen scarier things in my father's garden than anything you could throw at me, you discount Halloween costume."
"Big talk from someone who's one bad day away from being stuffed and mounted over some Hellhound's fireplace." Rönne's smirk was genuine, if slightly strained by his injury.
"Big words from someone who's one good shot away from being demoted to a Dickmaster's minion."
"Touché" Rönne only said this as he removed safety revolver from blessed revolver, showing he won't hesitate.
They remained locked in their standoff, neither willing to make the first move, both acutely aware that the first strike would have to be the last. Before either could pull their trigger or make their move, a voice called out from the tunnel Rönne and the Nightbuckler had emerged from.
"Lady Octavia!" Olivia called out, finally realizing that it just her Marquise, alive and well.
"Olivia?" Octavia's eyes widened. Wasting no time, she immediately rushed to her, wrapping Olivia in a tight embrace. Rönne, after a moment's consideration, lowered his revolver as well, though he kept it in hand.
"I thought... when the train crashed... I-" Octavia's voice was muffled against Olivia's shoulder.
"I know...I know, your highness. I'm just glad to see you safe." Olivia returned the embrace just as tightly. She pulled back slightly, giving Octavia a reassuring smile. "I have your offworldy friend to thank for that. The Buzzards would have ate me alive if he hadn't intervened,"
"Buzzards?" Octavia echoed as she turned back to him, confusion evident on her face.
"Local flavor from the colonists." Rönne assumed she would not thank him, so he let it slide. "Those Hellhounds you've been tangling with? They call themselves "The Great Hounds". Real charming bunch, as I'm sure you've noticed." He shifted his weight, wincing slightly at his injury as his tone growing more serious. "They won't stop not until they've either killed us all or we manage to get the hell out of their territory."
"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting—" Octavia's eyes narrowed. Clearly seeing where this going in.
"Oh, I know how you feel about me and I don't care. But right now, we've got bigger problems than your...grudges." Rönne interrupted, he then gestured at the fallen Nightbuckler. "That was just the appetizer. The Buzzards are going to throw everything they've got at us. And while I'm sure you're just itching to see if you can stuff me head-first through window, I'd rather not end up as some Hellhound's chew toy."
Octavia looked between Rönne and Olivia, her expression a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Oliva instead gave a slow nod, suggesting to see the wisdom of that Exorcist. That allowed some assurances, hence she let out an exasperated sigh that somehow managed to sound both aristocratic and deeply annoyed.
"Fine then...but I still don't trust you, Exorcist. If you so much as think about going after Gaap, I'll personally ensure your next assignment is as a celestial paperweight."
Rönne opened his beak to respond, but a chorus of snarls and howls cut him off, echoing through the tunnels with growing intensity. The sound of heavy paws and scraping claws against stone grew closer with each passing second.
"Wunderbar... Heretical Hounds of Eden are about to turn this unholy union into an all-you-can-eat buffet." He checked his revolver again, grimacing as not much left.
"What's wrong, holy roller? Scared of a few puppies? I thought Heaven's finest would be made of sterner stuff." Octavia stepped closer, looking at him with regal disdain.
"Says the girl who was hiding from in the train from me." Rönne somehow managed to convey a smirk. "Though I suppose that's what passes for tactical genius in Ars Goetia."
"Oh, I'm sorry, was that entrance really scared me?" Octavia's voice dripped with fake sympathy. "More like I was saying myself from not seeing your face and vomiting in the process."
"Jesus...ain't you a sunshines and butterflies?" Rönne had to admit she injured him...seriously, Jesus Christ.
A particularly loud howl, closer than the others, made them both tense. Olivia, behind them, could only shake her head as two of them continued their bickering, with the sounds of pursuit growing ever closer.
"Might I suggest you continue this conversation somewhere with fewer teeth and claws?" Olivia drawled.
"Actually, I was thinking of full on tactical retreat." He gestured down the tunnel with his revolver. "There's an old mining complex ahead with all tunnels go there. Leads straight to the surface."
"And you know this how exactly?" Octavia's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Oh you know, I'm a local tourist!" Rönne had enough of her at this point, deciding to just throw all of that Exorcist professionalism and just go full "I'm one of Adam's best girls, fight me!" behaviour that came from his sisters in Pride Legion. "When I don't kill Sinners, I come here every weekend to get eaten by Hellhounds. Halle-fucking-juah we say-THE HELL IS YOUR POINT!?"
"Ok, listen here you little-" Before Octavia could deliver what was undoubtedly going to be a scathing retort, a cacophony of howls erupted from the tunnel behind them. The guttural sounds of echoed off the stone walls.
"Great, they will be here any minute now!" Rönne's posture shifted instantly from sardonic to alert.
"Olivia, go! We'll hold them off!" Octavia's voice cracked like a whip as she drew her sword. The Andras' blade hummed with otherworldly energy, casting eerie shadows on the tunnel walls.
Rönne spun his revolver, the blessed weapon glowing with a light that seemed to push back the darkness. The air grew thick with the smell of brimstone and wet dog as massive, shadowy forms bounded toward them. Glowing eyes and gnashing teeth emerged from the darkness, accompanied by the screech of claws on stone.
"If we die here, I'm going to kill you." Octavia's grip tightened on her sword.
"Then direct these complaints to my superiors." Rönne drawled as he cocked his revolver.
The first Hellhound exploded from the darkness in a blur of teeth and claws. Octavia's blade flashed, a precise arc of silver that separated the beast's head from its shoulders. Black blood splattered against the stone as the corpse tumbled past them. Rönne's revolver sang out three times in rapid succession. Each shot found its mark with supernatural accuracy – throat, eye, heart. Three more Hellhounds collapsed in mid-leap, hitting the ground.
"Four down," Rönne called out, ejecting spent casings that clinked musically against the stone floor. "Only about a horde to go."
A particularly large Hellhound charged through its fallen packmates. Octavia ducked under its swinging claws and drove her sword up through its jaw.
"Make that five—watch your left!"
Rönne spun, his duster swirling dramatically as he fired point-blank into the face of a Hellhound that had tried to flank them.
"Much obliged"
More and more Hellhounds appeared, and the narrow tunnel erupted into chaos. The sound of gunfire mixed with the singing of Octavia's blade, creating a deadly duet that echoed through the passages. Behind them, Olivia's footsteps faded as she ran toward what they hoped was salvation, while the unlikely pair held the line against the teeth and fury of Limbo's most vicious predators. But for every Hellhound they dropped, two more seemed to take its place.
"We can't hold this position forever!" Octavia grunted, parrying a vicious swipe that would have taken her head off.
A massive paw swung through the space between them, forcing them to separate. The brief gap in their defense allowed more Hellhounds to pour into the tunnel, their bodies pressing forward with mindless aggression.
"Fall back!" Octavia commanded, sending a wave of magical energy that knocked the nearest beasts off their feet. "Unless you want to become kibble!"
"You tell me, birdy?!"
They retreated step by step, fighting for every inch. Rönne's shots grew more conservative, each bullet finding a vital point with lethal precision. Octavia's blade left trails of light in the air as she struck again and again, her composure replaced by grim determination.
The tunnel eventually opened into a vast cavern, the ceiling lost in darkness high above. A wooden bridge stretched across a seemingly bottomless chasm, its ancient planks groaning in the stale air. On the far side, barely visible in the gloom, stood Olivia.
"My lady, don't! The bridge won't hold!" Her voice echoed across the gap, tinged with desperation.
Octavia and Rönne backed away from the first planks, which creaked ominously under their weight. Behind them, the howls grew closer, accompanied by the sound of dozens of heavy paws.
"Well, this is less than ideal," Rönne observed, peering over the edge into the abyss below. A pebble knocked loose by his boot took several seconds to fade from hearing as it fell.
"Oh really? What gave it away? The rotting bridge or the horde of murderous Hellhounds?" Octavia's face was illuminated by the glow of her sword as she watched the tunnel mouth.
"No, your charming personality, actually!" Rönne gave her an insult as checked his revolver – only two bullets left. So he quickly reached for the few remaining bullets he had for spare. "So, any preferences? Death by falling or death by mauling?"
"Keep talking, and I'll throw you off myself," Octavia muttered, but there was almost a hint of amusement in her voice.
Despite Olivia's warning, there is nothing they can do but try with an death risk on their hands. They began their precarious crossing, the bridge swaying with each careful step. Another plank splintered beneath them as the bridge swayed dangerously. Rönne grabbed a fraying rope to steady himself, his face turning toward Octavia.
"This heap of kindling won't hold us both," He said, voice tight with unusual seriousness. "You need to go first."
"What's the catch, Exorcist?" Octavia's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident even as she steadied herself against the bridge's movement.
"There is no catch...other than you're thinner than me." Rönne's spurs clinked as he shifted his weight, causing another worrying creak from the bridge. His head tilted slightly toward Olivia on the far side. "Just make sure she gets home safe. That's all I'm asking."
For a moment, Octavia searched his face, as if trying to detect any hint of deception. Finally, she gave a sharp nod.
"Try not to die."
"Your concern is touching, truly." He then gestured for to her begin. "Go, now. I cover you."
Octavia began to move across the bridge, each step carefully chosen. Behind them, the first Hellhounds emerged onto the ledge, their red eyes fixed on their prey. Rönne's revolver spoke twice more, the blessed bullets finding their marks. Two Hellhounds tumbled into the abyss, their howls fading into the darkness. Despite this, more feral Hellhounds pressed forward.
"Come on...Come on." Octavia to be careful as the best she can...but halfway across, disaster struck.
A rotted plank gave way beneath Octavia's talons with a sharp crack. She pitched sideways, a startled cry escaping her as she plummeted. At the last second, her hand shot out, catching the edge of the bridge. She dangled over the void.
"Octavia!" Olivia's scream echoed across the cavern.
"Oh you got to be-GODDAMMIT!" Looking back at the situation, Rönne cursed at himself.
With no options and without hesitation, the Exorcist sprinted across the deteriorating bridge, planks snapping beneath his boots. He reached Octavia in seconds, grabbing her arm. With a grunt of effort, he hauled her up and practically threw her toward the far side of the bridge. Octavia stumbled but caught her balance, turning back just in time to see what Rönne didn't.
"Behind you!"
The warning came too late. Two Hellhounds launched themselves onto the bridge, their massive weight causing the ancient wood to groan in protest.
"Oh, Have mercy on me, Zadkiel!" Rönne cursed at himself as he spun, revolver raised to fire, but the two Hellhounds pounced at him, even though the bridge's supports finally gave way from their combined weight.
Time slowed as Rönne plummeted into the abyss, the bridge crumbling around him. The Hellhounds, driven by bloodlust, showed no fear as they fell with him. One of the beasts, more cunning than its kin, produced a wicked-looking knife, its intent clear even in freefall.
"Not today, mutt!"
With a practiced twist, Rönne maneuvered in the air, catching the knife-wielding Hellhound by surprise. A brief struggle ensued, punctuated by snarls and the whistle of wind. Rönne's experience proved decisive. He wrested the knife away and, with a powerful kick, sent both Hellhounds tumbling deeper into the darkness.
With a burst of divine energy, his wings unfurled, glowing softly in the gloom. He angled himself towards the nearest tunnel opening he saw, grimacing as his injuries protested the sudden strain. Rönne landed hard on the tunnel floor, rolling to absorb the impact. He glanced up at the distant bridge, now nothing more than a few dangling ropes.
"Let them think I'm dead," He thought, pushing himself to his feet. "Might buy me some time."
Clutching his side, Rönne moved deeper into the tunnel. The adrenaline was wearing off, and every step sent waves of pain through his battered body. He had barely gone a hundred yards when his instincts flared in warning...it was too late.
Two Hellhounds burst from the shadows, catching Rönne off-guard. A Baseball bat right into his chest made him lose his balance and crashing to the floor. His revolver skittered away, out of reach. The Hellhounds advanced, teeth bared, ready to finish what their brethren had started.
"Halt, Okuri-inu!"
Suddenly, a voice rang out, clear and commanding: The Hellhounds froze, their heads swiveling towards the new threat. Rönne's eyes widened as he took in the figure standing at the tunnel's entrance.
An another Exorcist have his presence by them. The newcomer cut an imposing silhouette, clad in the distinctive uniform of an Exorcist overlaid with a complete set of Samurai armor from 17th century. The Exorcist Samurai's hand rested on the hilt of a katana, his stance radiating confidence and barely contained power.
"Send your best warrior to me!" The Samurai announced, shifting his posture for stand-off.
The Hellhounds hesitated, caught between their prey and this new, formidable opponent. Only one dared to try...a Hellhound Berzeker called "Raza Rattler" by the Limbo Wasteland's locals, snarling and growling under his gas mask at the Samurai.
The tunnel fell eerily silent as the Hellhound Berserker stepped forward. Its massive form, corded with muscle and adorned with crude armor, dwarfed even its fellow pack members. Scars crisscrossed its muzzle, telling tales of countless battles survived. The Exorcist Samurai remained motionless, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his katana. Only his eyes moved, tracking the Berserker's approach with laser-like focus.
For what felt like an eternity, predator and warrior stood mere paces apart, neither making a move. The Berserker's breath came in low, rumbling growls, while the Samurai's breathing was controlled and barely perceptible.
A single droplet of water fell from the tunnel ceiling, the soft 'plink' as it hit the ground echoing like thunder in the silence. In that instant, both combatants exploded into action. The Berserker lunged forward, massive razer blade raised for a killing blow. Simultaneously, there was a flash of steel as the Samurai's katana cleared its sheath with preternatural speed.
The clash, when it came, was almost anticlimactic in its swiftness. A single, perfect arc of gleaming steel whispered through the air. For a heartbeat, it seemed as though nothing had happened.
Then, slowly, the Berserker toppled backwards, a thin red line appearing across its throat. It hit the ground with a resounding thud, never to rise again. The flash of that fight caused the remaining Hellhounds to whimper in fear.
"22) ÖLÜM TAZISI BIZIM IÇIN GELDI! KOŞUN!"
The Buzzards scattered like rats, away from the Exorcists, down to the way. The Samurai stood poised in his follow-through, katana extended. With practiced grace, he flicked the blood from his blade before smoothly returning it to its sheath. Only then did he turn his attention to Rönne, still prone on the tunnel floor.
"It seems, my friend." The Samurai intoned, his voice carrying a hint of dry amusement as he extended a gauntleted hand towards Rönne. "You cannot get away from trouble."
"Yeah, no kidding." Rönne grasped the offered hand. With a grunt of effort, the samurai pulled Rönne to his feet. The movement caused Cowboy Exorcist to wince, his battered body protesting the sudden change in position. Dust and grime caked his once-pristine duster. "And if you keep showing up like this, the High-Command might start to think I actually need saving."
"Perhaps I should start keeping score, my friend. This makes, what, the fifth time?" Miu's mask hid most of his expression. But his LED eyes crinkled with amusement, visible through the narrow slits of demon inspired mask he wears.
"Fourth," Rönne corrected, straightening his posture with a barely suppressed groan. He absently brushed some debris from his shoulder, leaving a smear of dirt across the fabric. "Pandemonium doesn't count. Everyone were lucky enough to retreat from that hellhole."
"So you say." Miu replied, his tone dry as the wasteland outside.
A chuckle bubbled up from Rönne's chest, still not believing it's him. The two Exorcists moved towards each other and embraced. The gesture spoke volumes about their shared history – battles fought side by side, losses mourned together, victories celebrated as one. It was the embrace of brothers-in-arms.
"Miu Ogawa, what surprise, you old samurai." As they separated, Rönne shook his head in disbelief. His eyes roamed over Miu's ornate armor, noting the new embellishments and battle scars on his armor that hadn't been there during their last encounter. "I haven't seen you since -"
"Pandemonium, I remember that well." Miu interrupted, his voice taking on a distant quality. "It's...difficult to not forget."
"You tell me, brother." Rönne nodded, his own expression growing somber, remembering Aikaterine's face. "She is still in my thoughts..."
"I know..." Miu straightened, his armor creaking slightly with the movement. "I'm sorry I didn't told you on that day. The Order saw fit to elevate me to Knight-Sentinel status and since that, I've been tasked with high-tier assignments here in Limbo to disrupt Inferno's war effort. That's why I had to leave you without saying proper goodbye."
"Knight-Sentinel? Well, I'll be damned." Rönne's eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath the brim of his hat. He grinned, then grew serious, his expression sharpening. "I've been hearing gossips from Little Limbo about a 'Ghost of Limbo' terrorizing Satan's Legion. I had a hunch that 'Ghost' might be you...glad to see I was right."
"Your instincts served you well, as always," Miu replied. He reached for the floor to get revolver for Rönne "And I believe you dropped this."
"Appreciated." Rönne took the weapon, its familiar weight settling comfortably in his hand, a thought occurred to him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced back up at Miu. "I take it you brought reinforcements for me?"
"I am the reinforcement, old friend." Miu's mask hid his expression, but there was a definite note of amusement in his voice as he responded.
Rönne blinked, processing the statement. Then, despite the pain that flared in his ribs, he burst out chuckle. "Yeah, of course you are. Why send an army when Grandmaster can send you?"
"I'm just a warrior like you, Rönne-san." Miu nodded. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his demeanor shifted. "But I'm aware of your current assignment. Given the circumstances, you will be be taking point as squad leader from here on out. The Order has also assigned two additional Exorcists under your command for your mission in Limbo."
"Additional Exorcists?" Rönne's eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath the brim of his hat. "And where are they?"
"I've tasked them with scouting a specific part of the Hellhound lair," Miu replied, his tone measured. "I'll explain later. For now, let me show you where the rest of your squad is waiting."
With that, Miu turned and began walking deeper into the tunnel, gesturing for Rönne to follow. Despite his curiosity and slight frustration at the lack of immediate answers, Rönne fell into step beside his old friend, ready to meet his unexpected new team.
The tunnel stretched before them, a yawning maw of darkness punctuated by the occasional flicker of bioluminescent fungi. Miu's armor clinked softly with each step, the sound echoing off the rough-hewn walls. Rönne limped beside him, his breathing slightly labored, betraying the toll of his recent battles.
"So," Rönne began, his eyes darter from shadow to shadow. "This mission of yours in Limbo. Classified, I'm guessing?"
"Not particularly," Miu's mask turned slightly towards Rönne, the dim light catching the etched patterns on its surface. "Heaven's efforts to loosen Inferno's stranglehold on Limbo aren't exactly Eye of Providence's secrets."
"No kidding. Fits right in with my latest mission." A wry chuckle escaped Rönne's lips. He paused, wincing as he stepped over a jutting rock. "After that clusterfuck in Pandemonium, I got roped into settling Heaven's debt with Phenex Goetia. Led me straight to Moxxara and her merry band of rebels."
"The Infernal Revolutionary Alliance, I know them." Miu's hand tightened imperceptibly on the hilt of his katana. "They've become quite the thorn in Inferno's side."
"That they have," Rönne agreed, a note of admiration creeping into his voice.
They rounded a corner, and Miu held up a hand, signaling a halt. His head cocked to one side, listening intently. After a moment, he relaxed, and they continued on.
"Phenex," Miu said softly, breaking the silence. "Can you truly trust her, Rönne?"
"Trust might be too strong a word," Rönne's tensed slightly, a physical manifestation of his unease. "I don't think it will end for her, though."
"I agree." Miu nodded sagely. "There's an old saying in my homeland: 'The fox borrows the tiger's power.' Phenex plays a dangerous game. Her web of lies and deceit... one day, it will unravel itself."
The tunnel opened into a small cavern, and they paused at its edge. Rönne leaned against the wall, his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders.
"You're probably right," He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "But right now, Phenex is the least of my worries. Things are changing, Miu. Ever since Adam... since he fell trying to take out that heir."
Miu remained silent, allowing Rönne to continue.
"The Winners of Heaven, they look at us differently now." Rönne's voice grew bitter, hand tightened on his revolver. "Not to mention The bickering in Heavenly Host gets worse by the day. Sometimes I think the Elder Council are too busy arguing to notice the storm that's brewing. I can feel it in my bones, Miu. We're hurtling towards all-out war."
The cavern fell silent save for the distant drip of water. Miu stood motionless.
"Your eyes see far, old friend," The Samurai said softly. He placed a hand on Rönne's shoulder, the gesture surprisingly gentle despite his armored gauntlet. "But do not let tomorrow's shadows blind you to today's light. We are Exorcists. Our path lies before us, clear as dawn even If the Winners cannot see it."
"Purge the unclean, eh?" Rönne's tense posture relaxed slightly under Miu's touch. A small smile tugged at the corner of his black lip.
"Purge the unclean..." Miu agreed, his mask nodding once.
Once more they started to move. The tunnel widened into a small chamber, the air heavy with the scent of damp stone and distant brimstone. Two figures huddled near a softly glowing crystal, their voices low. As Rönne and Miu approached, fragments of their conversation became clearer.
"...but can you really pity them?" The female Exorcist's voice was tinged with disbelief. "A demon is a demon, no matter how you slice it. Fuck them all"
Her companion shook his head. "It's not that simple. Even the Fallen were once—"
He broke off abruptly as he noticed the approaching figures. Both junior Exorcists scrambled to their feet, snapping to attention with an audible clank of armor.
"Knight-Lieutenant Deadeye!" They exclaimed in unison, their postures rigid with respect. The Female one would continue. "Sir, it's a an honor to see you alive and well since the last time we saw - "
"At ease, both of you," Rönne held up a hand, cutting off her words. His tone casual despite the formality of their greeting. He then cocked his head to one side, studying them. "I don't recall seeing you two before. Have we met before?"
"Yes, sir." The female Exorcist nodded eagerly. Somehow it reminded the devotion that only Lieutenant Lute could do. "Exorcist XX-19SK, codename 'Fiddle', at your service."
"And I'm Exorcist XX-19DA, codename 'Lone Star', Sir." Her companion straightened, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "You gave the introduction to our recruit class, sir. We... we were the ones who answered that question you asked us back then."
Rönne's eyes narrowed for a moment, then widened in recognition. "Wait...you two are Sofia Kristensen and Daniel Anders, right?"
"Affirmative, Lieutenant. It's us." Exorcist "Fiddle" nodded.
"Ah, right," Rönne murmured. Now he remembers it fully. One time he had to replace Prior Reginald to provide introduction class for the recruits. And these two were there...feels like it's only been yesterday. "Not that I don't appreciate the help, but this isn't exactly a Pride Ring run. Why in Heaven's name were you two assigned to this dangerous mission?"
"I'm being elevated by Lady Lute herself, sir. For the position of Junior-Lieutenant in the Pride Legion." There was a hint of pride in Fiddle's voice as she spoke.
"So you're an Lady-Knight rank already? Impressive." Rönne made a nod, appreciating the service despite...she is one of the "Pride Exorcist" ones. But he turned his attention to Lone Star. "And you, son? Despite our conversation years ago, I see you decided to stick with us...and don't tell me you're gunning for my job already."
"Not quite, sir." Exorcist "Lone Star" shifted his weight, the movement betraying a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I'm here for elevation as well, but..." He paused, as if gathering courage. "I'm hoping to join the Wrath Legion, under Lord Joseph Smith. This mission, with you personally overseeing it, is my chance to prove I'm capable."
"Seems like you're being replaced, old friend." Miu, who had been standing silently nearby, commented. Though his expression was hidden, there was a weight to his gaze that made Star stand a little straighter.
"No wonder with that." Rönne sighed, before being straight with these too. "Alright, listen up. You're both here to prove yourselves, and that's fine. But I won't pretend it will be an cake walk. In Limbo, everything wants to kill you if it hostile. Your job is to kill it first. So remember this: out here, we're a team. Your life depends on the Exorcist next to you, and theirs depends on you. Rank, legion, personal glory—none of that matters when you're staring down at forces of Inferno. So remember: NO heroics in my squad! Otherwise, I will make you to be on cleaning duty for the rest of weekend, are we clear?!"
"Yes, sir!" Exorcist "Lone-Star" and Lady-Knight "Fiddle" nodded solemnly, following by salute with a fist to their chest.
"Outstanding." Rönne gave them a nod to ease up, before looking up at Miu. "So what the reason why you brought us here?"
Miu's mask betrayed no emotion, but there was a subtle shift in his posture. He turned to Fiddle.
"Show him."
Fiddle nodded sharply and led the group to a narrow crevice in the cavern wall. As they squeezed through, the passage opened into a small alcove. A crude barricade of stones and scrap metal had been erected, creating a makeshift observation post.
Beyond the barricade, the rock fell away into a vast, multi-tiered cavern. Crude structures of bone and metal formed a nightmarish prison complex. Hellhounds prowled the walkways, their red eyes gleaming in the dim light. In the cells below, figures huddled in the shadows.
"There," Fiddle pointed to a particular cell. "Target confirmed, sir."
"What am I looking at here, Miu?" Rönne squinted, trying to make out details in the gloom.
Miu stepped forward, his voice low and grave. "Our mission has... evolved. Despite we're being assigned by The Order of Exorcism with Eye of Providence, a certain organization has become aware of our operations in Limbo. They've leveraged this knowledge to demand we complete an assignment for them. One of those prisoners is a high-ranking official. She was captured while attempting to make a deal with the I.R.A. for supplies."
Rönne interjected, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And let me guess, we get to play the rescue party..."
"Precisely." Miu nodded solemnly.
A heavy silence fell over the group, broken only by the distant howls of Hellhounds. Rönne's hand tightened on his revolver, thinking the implications.
"I don't like the sound of that. Who are we dealing with here?"
Miu turned to face him fully, the dim light catching the intricate engravings on his mask. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight that seemed to chill the very air around them.
"The Enclave."
The name hung in the air like a death sentence. Star and Fiddle exchanged confused glances, but Rönne's reaction was immediate and visceral, his grip on his revolver turned white-knuckled.
"The Enclave?" He hissed, disbelief and a hint of fear coloring his voice. "Miu, do you have any idea what you're getting us into?"
"I do..." Miu remained still as a statue, his masked gaze fixed on the prison below. "And I'm afraid we have no choice. Under Covenant, we all answer to Limbo and Heaven."
"Well, shit," Rönne ran a hand over his face, his exhaustion suddenly more pronounced. "This just went from a standard mission to something way above our pay grade."
"There's more," Miu continued, not wanting for Rönne to come with verdicts yet. "Among the prisoners are innocent colonists from Ars Colonia."
"And why exactly we should care about them?" Rönne's lips twisted into a grimace
"I agree with Lieutenant, sir." Fiddle nodded in agreement, her posture stiffening. "With all due respect to you, Knight-Sentinel, but our mission parameters don't include-"
"Our duty as Exorcists is to protect Limbo's citizens, regardless of their origin. Even if Limbo itself were to fall." Miu cut her off with a raised hand. "They're all here without choice, send here by gunpoint from Ars Goetia to colonize Limbo. Colonists or not, they're souls in need."
"That's a pretty speech, Miu, but you're asking us to risk everything for-"
"For innocents, yes." Miu interjected, before directing attention at Rönne. "Leaving them to their fate... that's not you, Rönne."
"You don't know me well enough to say that," Rönne's hand tightened on his revolver, dismissive about it.
"I know you well enough, friend. And I know you're conflicted." Miu stood motionless, his mask betraying no emotion. "Don't allow yourself to become an emotionless murder machine like many of our brothers and sisters are."
The cavern fell silent save for the distant howls of Hellhounds. Rönne's gaze swept over the prison complex below, his expression unreadable. Lone Star shifted uncomfortably, while Fiddle stepped closer to Rönne.
"Lieutenant," She said, her voice low and urgent. "Our mission is clear, and the risks-"
"Are high, I know, Lady-Knight." Rönne finished for her. He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to weigh the world on his shoulders. When he opened them again, there was a new resolve in his gaze. "Alright, listen up. We're changing the mission parameters. We're not just here for the Enclave's asset anymore. We're getting everyone out."
Miu remained silent, but there was a subtle shift in his posture - a relaxation, barely perceptible. Fiddle's mask instead couldn't hide her shock.
"Sir, that's-"
"Insane? Probably," Rönne cut her off. "But it's the right thing to do. You younglings might not know how some of us pledge allegiance to defend the Inhabitants of Limbo at all cost. Plus, they're on way so we not loose anything."
"I'm with you, sir. All the way." Star straightened, a new energy in his voice.
Fiddle hesitated for a moment, then nodded sharply. Duty comes first.
"Understood, Lieutenant. What's the plan?"
"The plan is what Pride Legion refers as "We're about to make a lot of noise and piss off every Sinner in here." for this instance." Rönne's beak curved into a grim smile. He checked his revolver, the blessed weapon glowing softly in the dim light. "Miu, I hope you've still got a few tricks up sleeves of yours."
"Always, old friend." Miu's hand rested on the hilt of his katana.
"Good..." Rönne nodded as he looked two junior Exorcists, who also nodded back, ready for fight. "And so...here's goes nothing -"
"FOR HEAVEN!"
The cavern erupted into chaos as Rönne's squad burst from their hiding spot. Hellhounds immediately noticed them, ready to fight. Each shot rang out like thunder, blessed bullets finding their mark with unerring accuracy. Hellhounds fell, their bodies falling on the ground.
"Star, cover fire! Fiddle, with me!" Rönne barked, his revolver already blazing.
"Covering fire, aye sir!" Lone-Star dropped to one knee, his carbine at the ready. The weapon looked like something out of an old Western, but its effectiveness was undeniable. He squeezed the trigger, and a rapid succession of shots tore through the air.
Miu was a whirlwind of steel and precision. His katana flashed in the dim light, each stroke leaving a trail of purifying energy. Hellhounds fell before him, their forms crumbling to ash before they hit the ground. He moved with an almost supernatural grace, his armor seeming to weigh nothing at all.
Fiddle twirled her spear with practiced grace, the weapon humming with divine energy. She moved like a dancer, each step precise and deadly. A Hellhound lunged at he but In one fluid motion, she sidestepped the attack and drove her spear through the beast's skull.
"Left flank clear!" She called out.
"Push forward!" Rönne commanded, reloading his revolver with practiced ease. "We need to reach those cells!"
The squad advanced, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of ground. Star's carbine never stopped firing, creating a steady rhythm of destruction. Fiddle's spear was a blur of motion, keeping the Hellhounds at bay. Miu and Rönne fought back-to-back, covering each other's blind spots with seamless coordination.
As they neared the prison cells, a massive Hellhound, easily twice the size of its brethren, emerged from the shadows. Its eyes glowed with hellfire, and foam dripped from its razor-sharp fangs.
"Nightbuckler!" Star shouted in warning, his carbine clicking empty at the worst possible moment.
"Ugh, this is getting annoying already!" Rönne cursed, having enough of those Hellhounds.
The Hellhound charged, its massive form barreling towards them with terrifying speed. Fiddle braced herself, spear at the ready, but even she looked uncertain in the face of such a monstrous opponent. Rönne stepped forward, his revolver raised. Time seemed to slow as he took aim, the world narrowing to just him and his target. He exhaled slowly, squeezing the trigger with deliberate pressure.
The shot rang out, louder than any before it. A streak of brilliant light erupted from the barrel, slamming into the Nightbuckler's chest. The beast's charge faltered, its momentum carrying it forward even as its body. It crashed to the ground mere feet from the squad. With the beast down, the remaining Hellhounds seemed to lose their nerve. They retreated, snarling and snapping, but no longer pressing the attack.
"Nice shot, old friend," Miu commented, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather.
"Yeah, well...third time is the charm." Rönne commented, holstering his revolver back.
With the immediate Hellhound threat neutralized, Rönne's squad turned their attention to the prisoners. The cells were a cacophony of rattling bars and desperate pleas. An Imp, his red skin ashen with fear, pressed against the bars of his cell as soon as he saw Exorcists.
"Please, you gotta get us out of here!" He begged, his tail thrashing anxiously. "I don't care if you're Exorcists or the Anathema himself! JUST RELEASE US!"
"Better a quick death by holy weapons than being torn apart by those mutts!" An Incubus nodded fervently with naked terror.
"Relax, both of you. We're here to get everyone out alive." Rönne held up a hand, his voice steady and reassuring. He then turned to his junior squad members. "Fiddle, Star, start working on these locks. Get everyone ready to move."
Saluting, Fiddle and Star began the process of freeing the prisoners. All that left is main primary target.
"Let's find our main one." Rönne exchanged a glance with Miu. he muttered, moving deeper into the prison complex.
Walking a bit further, they found her in the furthest cell, standing calmly as if waiting for a train rather than imprisoned in a Hellhound lair. Like any soul from Limbo, she had the same features - pale skin and silver hair, with a black halo hovered above her head, and her eyes were pale yellow colored.
As Rönne approached, she brushed a strand of silver hair from her face, her expression one of smug satisfaction.
"Ah, finally. I'm pleased to see Heaven has sent competent Exorcists this time."
"Yeah, no doubt." Rönne muttered, seeing that she is going be an pain in the ass for them. Nevertheless, there is nothing he can do. "Samurai, can you?"
Without any word, Miu worked on the lock while Rönne kept watch. The cell door swung open with a creak of protest. The Sinner stepped out, casually brushing dust from her expensive suit and adjusting her tie.
"Good then, let's not waste our time. I'm eager to return back to Control Station E.N.C.L.A.V.E" She remarked, as if commenting on the weather.
"You seem so calm about this..." Rönne's eyes narrowed, his hand instinctively tightening on his belt.
"Of course." The Limbonian Sinner smiled, a cold, calculating expression that never reached her eyes. "How else was I to locate their little... doghouse? The Mandate of Limbo must know the locations of anti-Limbo sentiment sources. Otherwise, how could we hope to effectively rule the Ring when The reclamation day will happen, hm?"
"So you got yourself captured on purpose...who exactly are you?" Rönne's voice dripped with disbelief and growing suspicion, though a sinking feeling in his gut told him he already knew the answer.
"Why, I am the Secretary of the Interior for Outer Limbo since 1908. Currently a proud member of The E.N.C.L.A.V.E's inner circle of finest minds of Pre-War Government." The Sinner's posture straightened, radiating an aura of authority. She also would show the emblem for them.
"And you, Exorcists, made your Ring proud of you today for finding me here."
The cavern fell silent save for the distant sounds of Exorcist Fiddle and Star freeing the other prisoners. Rönne tried to process the implications of this revelation. They had come to rescue a high-value asset, only to find themselves embroiled in the complex political machinations of Limbo itself.
"There has to be more to this, madam Secretary." Rönne's patience wore thin. He stepped closer to the Secretary, his voice low.
"My-my. Aren't we the inquisitive one?" The Secretary's smug smile never faltered. She sighed, as if explaining simple concepts to a child. "The E.N.C.L.A.V.E cannot allow the mistakes of Pre-War Limbo to repeat themselves. By order of Minos himself, we are tasked with locating all anti-Limbo sentiment sources."
"What for?" Rönne demanded more than that.
"Classified, you're bellow in chain of command, Exorcist."
"And so it happens that you volunteered for this little field trip without any backup?" Rönne's scepticism was palpable.
"I saw an opportunity to prove myself more... valuable than the rest of Minos' inner cabinet. One must seize such chances when they arise, after all." Her yellow eyes gleamed with ambition. She then glanced towards where Fiddle and Star were escorting the freed prisoners towards them. "Tell me, Exorcist. I know you're citizen of Limbo way before this mess we're currently in. Do you truly wish to see these Rootants living among us? The same kind is the reason why Heaven lost Limbo?" Her voice dripped with disdain as she used the derogatory term for demons outside Limbo.
"I don't care about your politics. The only reason why I'm speaking with you is because orders came from High-Command." Rönne's expression hardened.
"Huh. What a good, obedient knight you are." The Secretary's smirk widened, ending with a tsk. "But let us not dwell here. Luckily for us, these mines connect to a metro tunnel that link the City of Calderis with Inner Limbo."
"Calderis?" Miu interjected. "You mean Little Limbo, madam Secretary?"
"Such a pathetic name these Rootants gave for a city with such... potential." The Secretary mused. "But yes, we should be not far away from Calderis-Fort Metro Station."
"Very well, then. We escort you out to the surface." Rönne said finally, his voice tight. "But let the Vice-Overseer of Enclave know this isn't our fight, madam Secretary."
As they prepared to leave, the Secretary's voice stopped them. "Oh, but it is, Exorcist. Whether you like it or not, The Order of Exorcism and Harrowing is the property of Limbo. When the time will come, once more each one of you will pledge to Limbo's cause. We all serve to God and The Covenant togther."
Rönne didn't dignify the Secretary's provocations with a response. His jaw clenched, eyes scanning the cavern for potential threats as he issued orders.
"Fiddle, Star, form a protective escort around Secretary. We're moving out."
"I don't need a protection from Rootants, Exorcist." The Secretary's voice cut through the tension, sharp and demanding. "Just give me a gun. I'm more than capable of defending myself."
Rönne's patience was wearing thin, but he knew better than to argue. Without taking his eyes off the Secretary, he addressed Star.
"Give her your sidearm."
The Exorcist Star hesitated for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of arming her – even one as high-ranking as the Secretary. But training kicked in, and he quickly unholstered his 1911 pistol, offering it grip-first to the Secretary. She took the weapon with a satisfied smirk, checking the magazine and chamber with practiced ease.
"Much obliged, Exorcist. Glad someone is a faithfull servant to God like me."
The Imp and Incubus exchanged nervous glances, clearly unsure whether to be more afraid of the Hellhounds or...that woman. Exorcist Fiddle ushered them into formation, her spear at the ready...either at Hellhounds or them if they try to be funny with Secretary of The Outer Limbo.
"Miu, take point. I'll cover our rear." Rönne ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Let's move out, squad."
The group moved through the dark tunnels, the sounds of their footsteps echoing ominously. The rescued Imp and Incubus huddled close to Fiddle and Star, while the Secretary walked with the confidence of someone taking a stroll through a park.
Sometime will pass with nothing ordinary. The Exorcists trudged through the winding tunnels, guided by the Secretary's unnervingly confident directions. Eventually, they came upon a section where the passage widened, terminating at a crumbling wall of concrete and rebar.
"This is it, Exorcists" the Secretary announced, her voice echoing in the confined space. "Beyond this wall lies your escape route, gentlemen... and lady." She added the last with a smirk towards Fiddle.
Rönne exchanged a glance with Miu. Without a word, they moved forward in unison. With a synchronized kick, they struck the weakened wall. It shuddered, then collapsed in a shower of dust and debris.
As the dust settled, they found themselves in what appeared to be an abandoned utility room. Rusted pipes snaked along the walls, and the remains of long-dead machinery. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay and something else... something older and far more unsettling. But after leaving the utility room, They emerged into a vast, cavernous space that stretched into darkness in both directions.
The abandoned Metro Tunnel yawned before them.
The group's footsteps echoed unnaturally in the vast space, each sound returning distorted, as if the very air was perverting their presence. Somewhere in the darkness, something skittered across metal, the sound sharp and terrifyingly close. The Imp whimpered, pressing closer to Fiddle. Even the usually composed Incubus looked pale, his eyes darting nervously from shadow to shadow.
"What is this place?" Exorcist Star whispered, his voice tight with barely contained fear. This place does gives a bad...mojo.
"This, my dear Exorcist, is what happens when order is gone. When Chaos of Hell are allowed to fester our lands." Secretary's voice carried an almost reverent tone. "This is why The E.N.C.L.A.V.E will rebuild Limbo once the time will come."
Rönne opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden, sharp beeping cut him off. Miu's head snapped up, his hand going to the side of his mask.
"Rönne," Miu's usually calm voice held an edge of urgency. "We're receiving an SOS signal on the Exorcist emergency frequency."
The group fell silent, the oppressive atmosphere of the tunnel suddenly charged with a new tension. Another Exorcist team? Here?
"Can you pinpoint the location?" Rönne asked, his hand unconsciously tightening on his revolver.
Miu nodded slowly. "It's coming from further down the tunnel. But Rönne..." He paused, and even through his mask, his unease was palpable. "The signal... it's distorted. Like nothing I've ever seen before."
Rönne signaled for the group to move forward, following the eerie ping of the SOS signal. Their footsteps echoed hollowly in the vast tunnel. The phosphorescent fungi cast sickly, wavering light across their path, transforming familiar shapes into grotesque, lurching silhouettes.
As they rounded a bend in the tunnel, the signal grew stronger. Ahead, a station platform loomed out of the darkness, which was cracked and overgrown with pale, phosphorescent fungi that cast an eerie, sickly glow. Twisted metal structures that might once have been benches or ticketing booths now resembled nothing more than just debris. In the distance, the rusted hulk of a derailed train car teetered on the edge of the platform, its windows dark and accusing.
But as they drew closer, the scene that greeted them was far from the sanctuary they had hoped for. The platform had long ago been converted into a makeshift shelter. Tattered remnants of what might have once been tents or lean-tos clung to rusted support beams. Scattered across the platform were dozens of skeletons, frozen in their final poses. Some were huddled in sleeping bags, as if they had simply laid down and never woken up. Others sat propped against walls or slumped over long-cold fire pits, their empty eye sockets staring vacantly into eternity.
"By the Heavens..." Star whispered, his voice thick with horror.
Fiddle tightened her grip on her spear, her usual bravado replaced by grim determination. The Imp and Incubus huddled closer to her, their eyes wide with terror. The Secretary, however, seemed almost fascinated by the grisly tableau.
"History has a way of repeating itself. Eh if only they proceed with - "
"Enough," Rönne growled, cutting her off. He then nodded to Miu. "The signal?"
Miu pointed towards a far corner of the platform. There, propped up against a fallen vending machine, sat another skeleton. But this one was different. It was clad in the unmistakable, if outdated, uniform of an Exorcist. The armor was of an older design, more utilitarian than their current gear. Most notably, the mask was a plain, featureless oval – lacking the LED displays and advanced features of modern Exorcist helmets.
"It's been broadcasting for a century," Miu said softly, kneeling beside the fallen Exorcist. He carefully ejected a small data card from the ancient helmet and inserted it into his own mask's reader. For a moment, there was only static. Then, a voice crackled to life – desperate, exhausted, but clinging to hope:
"This is Exorcist XVI-14-NS at frequency Echo-7. In the event of unlikeable scenario, all Exorcist Legions must evacuate back to Heaven for further instruction. Secondary objective is to secure and escort Citizens of Limbo to safe locations for temporary notice. And we... we're running out of time. Food and water for the refugees are almost gone, with the foul stench of corruption creeping in. If anyone receives this, please... please send the Emergency relief forces on designation 41-32-XA-12. We can't hold out much longer. This is our last-*ZZZT*" The message cut off abruptly, then began to loop once more.
Miu silently removed the card, holding it reverently for a moment before tucking it away. The Exorcists stood in stunned silence, the weight of the tragedy they had uncovered settling over them like a shroud. Even the Secretary seemed subdued, her usual smirk replaced by a thoughtful frown.
Rönne moved to the skeleton, kneeling beside it. He sighed to himself, not wanting to share their same fate his Dead Brother did...
"You did your duty. Rest now, brother." Rönne straightened the tattered remnants of the Exorcist's uniform, getting the dogtags to pass Chronicler of Exorcist Order. His name should be added in the Memorial.
"Such a waste," The Secretary's eyes swept over the grim scene, her expression a mix of disdain and something almost like pity. "These poor souls should have been in the Vaults, not rotting here in this Metro, waiting for a rescue that would never come."
"The Vaults? As if you mean Limbo could have been better prepared for this?" Rönne's head snapped towards her, his eyes narrowing. His voice grew harder, accusation clear in his tone. "Two hours, Secretary. Two hours passed before any alarm was raised when Satan's Legion entered Limbo. And when there was a massive explosion in Capital of Limbo, there was utter silence from government. How do you explain that?"
"We all did the best we could under the circumstances, Exorcist." The Secretary met his gaze unflinchingly, her demeanor maddeningly calm. "A great number of citizens were evacuated from Central Limbo in that time."
"Evacuated?" Rönne scoffed, his anger barely contained. "It was the Exorcists who evacuated the Limbonians. You were was too busy shuttling officials to Control Station."
"Watch your tone, Exorcist. I will court martial you for the subornation." A flash of irritation crossed the Secretary's face. But her voice lowered, taking on a steely edge. "By prioritizing the evacuation of High Command, we ensured the formation of an Emergency Government of Limbo in Exile. This allowed for continuity of leadership in a time of unprecedented crisis. And let us not forget, it was those evacuated souls from Limbo who bolstered Heaven's ranks. They joined Order in droves, eager to avenge their lost home. Without them, where would the Exorcists be now, huh?"
The tension in the air was palpable. Miu shifted slightly, ready to intervene if necessary. Star and Fiddle exchanged uneasy glances, while the Imp and Incubus huddled closer together, clearly wishing they were anywhere but here.
"And who-"
*Clang*
The heated exchange between Rönne and the Secretary was abruptly interrupted by a sharp, metallic clang. A discarded can rolled across the platform, the sound reverberating ominously through the cavernous space. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Rönne, Miu, Star, and Fiddle snapped to attention, weapons raised and ready. Even the Secretary, her earlier smugness replaced by alert focus, leveled her borrowed pistol towards the source of the sound.
"Show yourself!" Rönne commanded, his voice echoing in the tense silence.
For a moment, nothing moved. Then, slowly, a small figure peeked out from behind a rusted vending machine. It was a young woman, clearly demon in origin, but with features that set her apart from the typical denizens of Hell. Her eyes were wide with terror as she took in the armed group before her.
"A Cherubimp?" Rönne's stance softened as recognition dawned, lowering his weapon slightly. The others remained on guard, but followed his lead.
He won't lie, Cherubimp in here would be last thought in Rönne's mind. These off-shoot Imps were mostly stayed in the Borderlands of Limbo, where The Mighty Gates of Hell stand to this day. Seeing one here was...unusual. But then again, it's nothing but chaos and unlaw reins in Limbo so anything is possible.
Crouching down to appear less threatening, Rönne addressed the frightened one.
"It's alright, we're not here to hurt you." He said, his voice gentle.
The Cherubimp's eyes darted between the Exorcists, lingering for a moment on the Secretary, who had not lowered her weapon. She opened her mouth, and a stream of unfamiliar syllables poured forth.
23) "ᏧᏃᏴᏫᏯ ᎠᏯᏗ ᏅᏙᎢᏕᏎᏍᏗ!"
"I'm sorry," Rönne's brow furrowed, shaking his head. "I don't understand."
The Cherubimp's expression shifted from fear to desperate urgency. She pointed behind the group, her voice rising to a panicked shriek. "24) ᎦᎵᏉᎩ! M-Mon-ster!"
The group spun around just as a horrifying figure lurched out of the shadows. It was humanoid, but any resemblance to a person ended there. Its skin was a mottled patchwork of necrotic flesh and exposed bone, pulsing with an unholy, roodiated glow. Tattered remnants of what might have once been an Exorcist's uniform clung to its emaciated frame. Its eyes, milky white and unseeing, blazed with feral hunger as it charged towards Fiddle with inhuman speed.
Before anyone else could react, a sharp crack split the air. The Secretary's borrowed pistol bucked in her hand as she fired point-blank into the creature's skull. The Feral Ghoul crumpled to the ground, twitching once before lying still.
"A Feral Ghoul?" Rönne whispered to himself.
"Tsk, I'm not surprised." The Secretary scoffed, lowering the smoking gun. Her eyes scanned the corpse with clinical detachment. "Clearly some of them didn't want to die and reduced into...this. Where corruption of Evil festers, these ferals are never far behind."
Rönne opened his mouth to respond, but a chorus of inhuman shrieks cut him off. The sound echoed through the cavernous space, growing louder by the second. In the distance, shadows began to move, coalescing into a writhing mass of twisted limbs and glowing eyes.
"It seems our departed friend wasn't alone. The horde has awakened. " The Secretary remarked, her voice eerily calm as she checked her pistol's magazine. "Remember Exorcists, those things are long gone from God's divine purity. Show no mercy! Burn the heretic. Kill the rootant. Purge the unclean."
The group instinctively formed a defensive circle, weapons at the ready. The Cherubimp whimpered, pressing close to Rönne's side. In the sickly glow of the phosphorescent fungi, they could see dozens - no, hundreds - of Feral Ghouls shambling towards them. Some wore the tattered remains of Exorcist armor, others the civilian clothes of Limbo's lost citizens. A few even sported the weathered uniforms of the Limbo Militarum.
"OPEN FIRE!"
Rönne's revolver boomed, each blessed bullet finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Fiddle stood with Miu shoulder to shoulder, their weapons creating a steady rhythm of destruction as Miu's katana flashed in deadly arcs, purifying light trailing in its wake. But for every Feral Ghoul that fell, two more seemed to take its place. The horde pressed forward, a tide of writhing, roodiated flesh that threatened to overwhelm them.
"There's too many!" Star shouted, his carbine clicking empty. He fumbled to reload, his hands shaking.
Rönne's eyes darted around the station, searching for an escape route. His gaze landed on a heavy metal door set into the far wall, barely visible behind years of grime and rust.
"There!" he yelled over the din. "Emergency tunnel! Move!"
The group began to fall back, still firing. The Secretary, her borrowed pistol now empty, snatched up a fallen Exorcist's blade, wielding it with surprising skill.
"Miu, cover our six!" Rönne ordered as they retreated. He turned to the terrified Cherubimp, who stood frozen in fear. "Come on, little one. We're getting out of here."
As they reached the door, Fiddle and Star strained against its rusted hinges. With a screech of protesting metal, it finally gave way. The group piled through, Rönne ushering the Cherubimp ahead of him.
Just as Miu, bringing up the rear, crossed the threshold, a Feral Ghoul lunged forward. Its clawed hand swiped at the Samurai Exorcist, raking across his armor with a shower of sparks. Miu's katana flashed once, and the creature's head rolled across the floor.
"Seal it!" Rönne shouted as soon as Miu was through.
With a final heave, Fiddle and Star slammed the door shut. The sounds of the horde became muffled, but no less terrifying. Thud after thud echoed through the metal as the Ferals threw themselves against it. As if to punctuate her words, a particularly loud bang caused everyone to flinch. Then, through the door, came something even more chilling than the animalistic growls and snarls.
"Cold... us..." The words were garbled, barely recognizable as human speech. "Must...open..."
"They're... talking?" Rönne's face paled.
"Remnants of who they once were," the Secretary replied, her voice devoid of emotion. "Nothing more than rootants."
Another bang, louder this time. A clawed hand punched through the rusted metal, grasping blindly. The sealed door gave way with a thunderous crash.
"Run!" Rönne shouted, urging the group forward.
They sprinted through the dimly lit passage, the snarls and screeches of the pursuing Ferals growing louder with each passing second. The Cherubimp, struggling to keep up, was scooped up by Miu without breaking stride. Ahead, a faint glimmer of natural light pierced the gloom. As they burst through the Metro Station's exit, the group found themselves blinking in the harsh light of the surface world. But before they could get their bearings, a chorus of shouts rang out.
"Over here, comrades! Move your asses, NOW!"
A line of soldiers in red uniforms stood arrayed before them, weapons at the ready. The insignia on their shoulders marked them clearly: Infernal Revolutionary Alliance. Without hesitation, Rönne's group scrambled to comply, diving behind the line of I.R.A. soldiers just as the first wave of Ferals erupted from the station entrance.
"Light 'em up!"
And so I.R.A. forces opened up on the horde staccato of gunfire. Blessed bullets tore through the Ferals, dropping them by the dozens. But the real show-stopper came in the form of a soldier wielding what looked like an oversized flamethrower.
With a whoosh of igniting fuel, a stream of blazing liquid arced through the air, engulfing the Ferals in brilliant white-blue flames. The creatures shrieked in agony as the holy fire consumed them, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. The I.R.A. forces made short work of the horde, their superior firepower and tactics proving more than a match for the frenzied Ferals.
"Ha, Greek Fire!" The Secretary remarked, a note of admiration in her voice as she watched the conflagration. "My favourite method of problem-solving."
"Impressive," Rönne muttered, watching as the I.R.A. soldiers efficiently secured the area. He turned to the Secretary, his voice tight. "Lend leasing, huh?"
Before she could answer, the roar of engines filled the air. A sleek gunship, painted in the bold red colors of the I.R.A., swooped low over the battlefield before coming to rest nearby. Its rotors kicked up a cloud of dust and ash as it landed. The gunship's side door slid open, and a an Imp stepped out, her presence immediately commanding respect and attention.
"Sweep the area! I want every nook and cranny checked. No surprises, understood?" I.R.A commander ordered around.
The I.R.A. soldiers snapped to attention, their weapons at the ready as they began to methodically search the surrounding area. But all eyes were drawn to the figure emerging from the gunship's open door.
She is a quite tall imp demon, with aged-up white pointy hair which leads up to her curvy black horns and yellow sclera with black slit pupils. Around her eyes are white markings, with the right being larger than the left one for some reason. Her skin is a darker shade of red and her legs appear to be plantigrade, ending in what appears to be cloven red hooves under the Legionary knee pads.
Despite being in her early 70s by Imp standards, she moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned warrior. Her body bore the marks of countless battles – white scars crisscrossed her visible skin, telling silent stories of near misses and hard-won victories. Her right arm was wrapped in a full bandage, while her left arm shown once it was pierced with spiky chains that dug into flesh, some kind of twisted use of pain gain in Legions of Satan.
As she stepped onto the aftermath of battlefield, the I.R.A. soldiers immediately snapped to attention, saluting their leader. But her focus was elsewhere. Her keen eyes scanned the area, taking in every detail of the recent skirmish.
Suddenly, her gaze locked onto movement amidst the carnage. A lone Feral, somehow having survived the onslaught, was attempting to crawl away. Without hesitation, she reached out, snatching a rifle from the nearest I.R.A. soldier. In one fluid motion, she raised the weapon, took aim, and fired. The Feral's head exploded in a spray of necrotic matter, its body falling still.
"Sloppy." She stated simply, handing the rifle back to the wide-eyed soldier. Her tone wasn't angry, merely matter-of-fact, but it carried the expectations which weren't met.
With purposeful strides, she made her way towards Rönne's group and the Secretary. As she approached, her eyes swept over each member of the group, assessing, cataloging. But for now, she only now brought her attention at Secretary.
"Why wasn't the I.R.A. informed that the Secretary of the Interior was involved in this operation?" She demanded, her arms crossing over her chest.
"The E.N.C.L.A.V.E. doesn't play games, Imp. The I.R.A. does..." The Secretary's response was immediate, her voice dripping with smug condescension. She let the implication hang in the air, her smile never reaching her eyes.
The Leader of I.R.A's jaw clenched, but before she could retort, the Secretary continued, her tone sharpening.
"Let me remind you, that the Limbo Government is the only reason your little rebel group has any supplies at all." The Secretary's gaze swept over the I.R.A. soldiers, their weapons, the impressive gunship. "If you truly hope to stand a chance against the Infernal forces, I suggest you learn when to hold your tongue."
For a moment, tension crackled in the air between the two powerful women. Rönne and his team watched the exchange warily, hands never straying far from their weapons. The I.R.A. soldiers shifted uneasily, not sure if it's...beginning of hostile activity. Sure as shit they don't want to Exorcists over there.
Finally, The Leader of I.R.A's posture relaxed, though her eyes remained hard. Years of experience in navigating treacherous political waters had taught her when to push and when to relent.
"Very well," She said, her voice devoid of emotion. She then turned to the I.R.A. commander. "Tell the gunship pilot he escorting the Secretary back to the E.N.C.L.A.V.E. Control Station."
"Ave, Legatus!" The commander hurried to comply,
The Secretary once more cleared her throat, drawing attention back to herself.
"If we're quite finished with this little power play, I believe I have a Control Station to return to." Her tone was light, but there was no mistaking the underlying command. She would also return the pistol back to Exorcist Star, though it looked like she discarded it rather than returning it back.
The Leader of I.R.A's bandaged hand clenched briefly, the only outward sign of her frustration. With a curt nod, she gestured towards the waiting gunship.
"Safe travels, Madam Secretary."
Without saying a goodbye, The Secretary made her way towards the aircraft, the Cherubimp huddled closer to Rönne, wide eyes darting between the imposing figures of I.R.A and the Secretary. The Exorcist placed a reassuring hand on the child's shoulder, silently telling everything is alright.
The gunship's engines roared to life, drowning out any further conversation before it lifted off, carrying the Secretary back to their base. Once it's done, Old Imp's gaze swept over Rönne and his team once more.
"The I.R.A. was aware you would use metro tunnel to get yourself here." She stated matter-of-factly. "That's how we were able to locate you."
"No wonder after your great plan of ambush." Rönne's eyes narrowed, a concern crossing his features. "I don't need to remind you that train was carrying supplies for Little Limbo. Without those resources, innocent civilians will starve."
"Sacrifices must be made if we are to achieve total victory in Inferno. The greater good demands difficult choices." The leader expression remained impassive, her bandaged arm crossed over her chest.
"And what good will your victory be if you lose the support of the very demons you claim to fight for?" Rönne challenged, taking a step forward. "If the I.R.A. hopes to lead Inferno, you'll need the backing of its demons, Moxxara."
For a moment, Moxxara's stoic facade cracked, a flicker of consideration passing through her eyes. But before she could respond, a commotion from the rescued Incubus and Imp caught everyone's attention.
"Wait a minute," The Incubus said, his eyes wide with sudden recognition. "Did that Exorcist say Moxxara? As in, THE Moxxara?"
"The Legendary Legatus of Wrath? The one who led the conquest of Limbo a century ago?" The Imp beside him nodded vigorously, his voice filled with a mix of awe and fear.
Moxxara didn't answer at first but turned to face them, her posture straightening almost imperceptibly. What followed a deep sigh...possibility combination of regrets, sorrows but with clear goal in her mind.
"I am that Moxxara. But It doesn't really matter anymore." She began, her eyes distant as if looking into a past only she could see. "Looking at you both, I know what it means to be an outcast, to be used and discarded by the Seven Deadly Sins. I was their tool, their weapon, forged in the fires of their ambition and tempered by the blood of countless battles." Her hand clenched into a fist. "I led armies across the plains of Inferno, conquered realms in the name of Satan himself. And for what? To be cast aside when my usefulness had run its course."
Her gaze swept over the gathered demons and Exorcists, her voice gaining strength. "But I refused to fade away. I chose to rise, to fight not for the glory of tyrants, but for the freedom of the downtrodden. Look around and ask yourself...where is that freedom Sins have promised us? Our rebellion against Heaven meant to give something great than blind loyalty. Instead, The Seven Deadly Sins took power for themselves, abandoning the promises they made for our kind. That is why The I.R.A. was born from the ashes of my disillusionment, a beacon of hope for all who dare to dream of a Free Inferno."
Moxxara's eyes locked onto the Incubus and Imp, her expression fierce.
"So yes, I am the Legatus who brought Limbo to its knees. But now, I am the one who will lift it – and all of Inferno – back to its feet. Every decision I make, every sacrifice I demand, is in service of their ultimate freedom. The path to revolution is paved with difficult choices, but I bear that burden so that others may one day walk unburdened. So tell me, do you truly wish to continue living under the boot of the Goetias or the Seven Deadly Sins?"
The Imp and Incubus exchanged glances, a spark of defiance igniting in their eyes.
"Never," They responded in unison, their voices gaining strength.
"And do you yearn to live freely, as demons were truly intended?" A hint of approval flashed across Moxxara's face. She pressed on, her words gathering momentum like a rising tide.
"Yes," the Imp said, straightening his posture.
"Absolutely," the Incubus added, a newfound determination in his voice.
"Do you want to shape your own destiny, free from the whims of tyrants that Seven Deadly Sins are?" Moxxara's intensity grew with each word.
"We do!" They chorused, their earlier fear replaced by burgeoning enthusiasm.
"Are you ready to fight for a future where every demon has a voice, where power isn't hoarded by the few but shared among the many!?"
"YES, WE DO!"
The Imp and Incubus nodded vigorously, caught up in the fervor of Moxxara's rallying cry. With a satisfied nod, Moxxara extended her hand towards them. The two demons stepped forward, each placing a hand on Moxxara's palm.
"Then welcome to the Infernal Revolutionary Alliance, my brothers. Together, we will forge a new Hell, one where the chains of oppression are shattered and true freedom reigns. My comrades will take you with us. May Imperious watch us in Pride."
The new recruits were led away by an I.R.A. soldier, for the introductionary par. Moxxara's demeanor shifted. Once more, she turned to Rönne, her expression once again inscrutable.
"Exorcist. A word in private, if you please."
Rönne raised an eyebrow but nodded, following Moxxara a short distance away from the others. The sounds of another gunship landing near by and the bustling I.R.A. soldiers faded into the background as they found a quiet spot amidst the desolate landscape.
"I don't have any reason to lie to Eye of Providence, Exorcist. But the I.R.A. is commencing an invasion of Little Limbo very soon. We could use someone of your... talents in the fight."
"No. This isn't my conflict, Moxxara. My orders are clear - I'm here to eliminate Prince Gaap and that is all." Rönne shook his head, his expression firm.
"Prince Gaap? You're certain he is in Limbo?" A flicker of interest crossed Moxxara's face.
"100% confident," Rönne replied. "And I have reason to believe he'll retreat to Little Limbo to hide for a while from me."
Moxxara was silent for a moment, her eyes studying Rönne intently. Then, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Well, it seems Imperious himself favours us both. We have an... asset within the Ars Goetia. A mole serving the I.R.A.'s cause."
"A spy within the Ars Goetia?" Rönne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's... rare to hear."
"Indeed, but you won't be surprised when Ars Goetia makes you lick their feet, to the point you start to grown resentment to them." Moxxara nodded. "If what you say about Prince Gaap is true, I'll ensure our friend is informed. They may be able to assist in your mission." Her expression hardened slightly. "However, I expect a favor in return when the time comes. Are we clear?"
Rönne hesitated for a moment, considering his options.
"Fine then. Keep it mind I reserve the right to refuse if the favor goes against my principles or mission objectives."
"Fair enough," Moxxara conceded. "Then I will inform our spy. In the meantime, if you need, we have an spare horse if you want to travel or if you don't, our gunship will take you to your base."
"Thanks." Rönne nodded. As they sealed their agreement, his gaze drifted to the trembling Cherubimp huddled nearby. "There's one more thing. The Cherubimp - do you know what language she's speaking? We haven't been able to communicate effectively."
Without a word, Moxxara strode over to the young demon. The Young Cherubimp nervously whimpered in front of Ex-Legatus, but Moxxara crouched down, showing nothing that might threaten her life.
"25) ᎣᏏᏳᏍᎩ. ᏃᏊ ᎠᏆᏚᎵ ᎬᏯᏛᏛᎲᏍᎦ ᏂᎯ ᎠᎭᏫ."
The Cherubimp's eyes widened in recognition, a mix of relief and wariness crossing her features.
"26) ᎰᏩ." She replied hesitantly:
"27) ᏙᎯᏧ ᏣᏚᎵ? ᎦᏙ ᏕᏣᏙᎥ?" Moxxara's voice softened slightly as she continued in Cherubimp dialect.
The Cherubimp swallowed hard before answering to Ex-Legatus. "28) ᎠᏯᏓ. ᎠᏯᏓ ᏚᏆᏙᎥ. ᎠᏆᏓᎾᏫᏍᏕᎸ ᎠᏂᏥᎸ ᎠᏂᎩᎾᏍᏗ, ᎠᏎᏃ ᎠᎩᏴᏫᏒ. ᎠᏆᎵᏍᎨᏨ ᎠᏆᏓᎾᏩᏍᏔᏅ ᎤᎾᏰᎯᏍᏗ ᏧᎾᏓᎴᏅᏛ ᎾᎥ ᎠᏓᏁᎸ ᎠᏍᏆᎾ ᎡᎯ."
Moxxara listened intently to Cherubimp's explanation. When she finished speaking, Moxxara then turned back to Rönne.
"Her name is Ayita. She was captured by Hellhounds but managed to escape. She's been hiding from the 'monsters' - likely from Feral Ghouls in the abandoned metro station."
"A child, alone in that hellscape... It's a miracle she survived." Rönne's brow furrowed in concern.
"She is a warrior, I can see that." Moxxara's eyes shown pride as she looked at Ayita. "The I.R.A. could always use more demons like her."
"Are you out of your mind? She's a child, Moxxara!" The words had barely left her mouth before Rönne's hand flew to his weapon, his voice rising in anger. "You can't seriously be suggesting recruiting child soldiers!"
"I won't deny it, Exorcist." Moxxara didn't flinch at Rönne's outburst. Instead, she met his gaze steadily, her arms crossing over her chest. "We need anyone willing to pledge themselves to our cause. Age is but a number in the face of oppression."
"Stop this right now, Moxxara. Or I swear, I'll do something we'll both regret in a long run." Rönne's grip on his weapon tightened, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
For a moment, the air between them crackled with potential violence. Moxxara's arm tensed, as if preparing for action. Then, surprisingly, her posture relaxed slightly.
"You know," She said, a hint of weariness creeping into her voice, "There was a time I would have killed you on the spot for such defiance. But leading the Rebels... it's taught me things the Legions of Satan never could. The value of brotherhood over a cult of personality. I understand you will not sacrifice your morals for the cause...I can respect a warrior like you to do that."
Rönne's stance eased slightly, though wariness still lined his features. Moxxara turned her attention back to Ayita, switching once more to Cherubimp native:
"29) ᏥᎪ ᎢᎦᎢ ᎪᎱᏍᏗ ᏣᏤᎵ ᎡᎳᏗᏢ ᎨᏒᎢ?"
Ayita's eyes darted between Moxxara and Rönne, sensing the tension but not fully understanding its cause.
"30) ᎠᎩᎵᏅᏟ ᎠᎴ ᎠᎩᏥ ᎠᎾᏁᎭ ᎥᏝ ᎢᎦᎢ ᎡᎳᏗ ᏧᎾᏓᎴᏅᏛ ᎦᏚᏯ ᎡᎯ, ᎠᏔᏄᎦᎸᏛ ᏓᎶᏂᎨ." She replied hesitantly.
Moxxara nodded, turning back to Rönne.
"She says her parents live in Hollow Falls, not far from Little Limbo."
"Good. Then that's where she needs to go." Rönne's expression softened as he processed this information, his voice firm but no longer hostile. After a moment of consideration, he spoke once more. "I'll take her back to her parents myself."
Moxxara studied Rönne for a long moment, as if weighing the sincerity of his words against some internal scale. Finally, she turned back to Ayita, speaking once more in Cherokee:
"31) ᎯᎠ ᎠᏍᎦᏯ ᏓᏣᏘᏃᎯᏍᏔᏂ ᏗᏣᎵᏅᏟ ᎢᏳᎾᎵᏍᏙᏗᏱ. ᎯᏍᏓᏱᏗᏍᎨᏍᏗ."
Ayita nodded, a mixture of relief and apprehension crossing her features. She stepped forward to Rönne, who gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I promise, I'll get you home safely," He said, his voice soft but determined.
"Aks one of my soldiers for Horse. And be wary – Hollow Falls isn't far from the coming conflict. You may find yourself in the thick of it sooner than you think."
"I haven't forgotten." Rönne nodded grimly.
With their conversation concluded, Rönne turned back to his squad, Ayita close by his side. Moxxara remained on same spot, glancing at at glowing lights of Little Limbo emitting from far away. It's been a long road for them and she can't bellive this...that maybe I.R.A could pull the impossible...all that left is one final battle for Limbo Liberation.
It's now or never...
In the meantime, The Exorcists were just discussing the mission, regarding Gaap, with Miu providing the answers. When Rönne would come to them, the group's eyes were filled with questions to him.
"So what are our new orders, sir?" Exorcist Fiddle stepped forward.
"Not enough for you, huh?" Rönne joked as he let out a heavy sigh, his gaze sweeping over his team before settling on Fiddle. "Despite everything that's happened, our mission to eliminate Prince Gaap will have to be postponed for now."
"The E.N.C.L.A.V.E. will be eager to hear from us, won't they? They might even try to use us in whatever's coming." Miu's eyes narrowed, her mind already racing ahead.
"You're not wrong," Rönne admitted, his expression grim. "But right now, it's better for us to be at Control Station Enclave than out here in the Limbo Wasteland. We'll have a better chance of figuring out our next move from there." He paused, looking at each member of his squad in turn. "I want you all to go with the I.R.A. back to the Control Station."
"You're not coming with us?" Miu asked, wanting to be sure.
"I have to take Ayita back to her parents first. It's not far, but it's something I need to do myself." Rönne shook his head, placing a gentle hand on Ayita's shoulder. "After that, I'll meet you all back at the Control Station."
"So it's over for now? We can actually rest?" Star let out a relieved sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing.
"For now, yes." A small smile tugged at the corner of Rönne's mouth. His gaze shifted to Fiddle and Star, pride evident in his eyes. "You both handled yourselves exceptionally well out there. I can see why you were chosen for this mission."
The two younger Exorcists straightened at the praise from Lieutenant.
"Alright, squad. For the final time on this mission: get some rest. You've more than earned it." Rönne's voice took on a commanding tone one last time
"Aye-Aye."
Fiddle and Star moved away, their voices fading as they discussed the recent events. Miu, however, remained behind, his eyes fixed on Rönne. As the others' chatter died down, he approached him closer.
"So...what you think of your newly squad?"
"I won't lie, Miu." Rönne turned to face his, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and measured. "I'll miss Aikaterine and Jeanne D'Arc, no matter what. But I won't deny that Lute has chosen a good candidate for the Pride Legion's Junior Lieutenant position."
"You don't sound particularly thrilled about it." Miu's brow furrowed slightly, picking up on an undercurrent in Rönne's tone.
Rönne sighed, his gaze drifting momentarily to where Ayita stood nearby. "I'm just worried about Lute, Miu. I've known her for quite a while. She took Adam's death the hardest of all of us. He was... well, he was the father figure she always wanted."
"Not surprised..." Miu muttered, the news of Adam's death was also an shock for him when it reached his ears.
"And now...Christ, where to begin, Miu? This really been a shitshow for years. First, their Junior Lieutenant betrayed Lute. Then Adam was killed." He shook his head, still not believing this. "I can see that Lute is reforming the Pride Legion. And Fiddle... well, she'll make a good protégé for her...maybe even too good."
"What do you mean by that?" Miu asked, his voice equally low.
"Lute's been through a lot. She's lost people she cared about, people she trusted." Rönne's eyes met Miu's, his gaze intense. "I worry that in her efforts to reform her Legion, to find someone to mentor... she might be setting herself up for more pain...Exorcists must be level headed when dealing with threats. But when your emotions overcome, you will become overzealous...and knowing how it will go further, I see that Master Aclima will seek vengeance sooner or later...that will cause many of our brethren to die for nothing." Rönne paused, then shook his head slightly, not wanting to focus on that anymore. "But that's something to worry about in the future. Right now, I need to get Ayita to her parents."
"Of course." Miu nodded, understanding the shift in priorities. "Take care, Rönne,"
"You too, Miu." Rönne replied with a small smile. "I'll see you back at the Control Station."
They shared a brotherly pat on their shoulders before Miu turned to join the others. Then Rönne's attention shifted to the practical matters at hand. He approached one of the I.R.A. soldiers, Ayita following close behind.
"Excuse me," Rönne called out to the soldier. "I was wondering if the I.R.A. could spare a Hellhorse. I need to transport this child to Hollow Falls, and I'd prefer to avoid being spotted in the sky if I fly."
"Of course, lucky for you, we have an spare horse for loot carriage. We can arrange that for you. Wait here a moment." The I.R.A. soldier nodded, seeming to understand the request.
A short while later, he would return, leading a magnificent creature. Unlike the fierce Hellhorses of Wrath, this was a Limbonian Hellhorse - a striking skeleton looking Horse with a coat patterned in black with grey stripes on her body and a flaming mane and tail in white colors. She has two pairs of white glowing eyes, a set of glowing fangs, and white horseshoes. Even on first glance, Its demeanor was noticeably calmer, its eyes intelligent but lacking the wild fire often seen in its Wrath's cousins species.
"Here you are," The soldier said, handing the reins to Rönne. "This girl is quite docile and beginner-friendly. Should suit your needs perfectly."
"I know how to ride an Horse, thank you." Rönne took the reins, running a hand along the horse's strong neck. The creature nickered softly, seeming to approve of his touch. She is not a Adawolf from Rönne's mortal life but he can see she will be a fine companion for him in Limbo. "Hmm, how we should call you, girl?"
His eyes roamed over the horse's dark coat, taking in the subtle variations of black and grey....it got him an idea.
"Kiera?" Rönne said to himself, wondering how it sounds. "What do you think, girl? How does Kiera sound to you?"
The Hellhorse snorted softly, tossing her mane in what seemed like agreement.
"Kiera it is." Rönne smiled, before looking at nervous Cherubimp. "Well, Ayita. Let's lift you up."
With ease, Rönne lifted Ayita onto Kiera's back before mounting up behind her. He gathered the reins, feeling the powerful creature shift beneath them.
"Thank you again," He said to the I.R.A. soldier. "We'll return her once we've reached Hollow Falls."
"You can keep her. Just remember to give Tato every now and then. She loves them." The soldier nodded, saluting in old cowboy way. "Safe travels, Exorcist."
With a gentle nudge, Rönne urged Kiera forward. The Limbonian Hellhorse moved with surprising grace, her hooves barely making a sound as they set off towards Hollow Falls.
The landscape of Limbo stretched out before them once more, a mix of desolation and haunting beauty. Rönne found himself taking in the landscape around them. The road they traveled was cracked and worn, nature slowly reclaiming what had once been a bustling highway. Twisted metal sculptures that might have been cars in a previous life dotted the roadside.
To their left, a vast field extended to the horizon. The grass was a muted purple, swaying gently in the warm breeze. Interspersed throughout were clusters of luminescent flowers, their petals glowing softly even in the dim Limbo daylight. The sight was both alien and oddly comforting.
To their right, a forest loomed. The trees were gnarled and ancient, their bark a deep charcoal color. Yet, life persisted. Vibrant red vines climbed the trunks, and in the canopy, Rönne could see the occasional flash of movement – demonic wildlife going about their day, oblivious to the travelers below.
In the distance, the silhouette of a ruined town broke the horizon. Once-towering buildings now stood as jagged teeth against the sky. But even there, green patches could be seen creeping up the sides of buildings, nature slowly but surely healing the scars of the long war.
As they crested a small hill, Rönne's breath caught in his throat. Before them lay a valley, and in it, a patchwork of small farms. Farmhouses dotted the landscape, most in various states of repair, but a few standing proud and intact.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rönne said softly, his eyes still scanning the horizon a bittersweet feeling washing over him. Despite everything that had happened in Limbo, despite the chaos and destruction, there was still beauty to be found. Life, in its stubborn, demonic way, persisted.
Everything he sees...makes him remember the simpler times...the time when he wasn't even an Exorcist. Eh, those days where the only worry he had was Vera's nagging. And that song...that song always signifies what Ring of Limbo was really...almost Heaven.
...
...
Heh, that song never really gets old.
Rönne urged Kiera into a gallop. The Limbonian Hellhorse responded eagerly, her powerful strides eating up the miles as they galloped trough the broken road. The landscape shifted around them, always showing something new.
[Verse 1]
♪ Almost Heaven, Ring of Limbo ♪
♪ Black Ridge Mountains, Acheron River ♪
♪ Life is old there, older than the Hell's fires. ♪
♪ Younger than Heavens, glowing like a breeze ♪
[Chorus]
♪ Golden gates, take me home ♪
♪ To the place I belong ♪
♪ Ring of Limbo, hollowed mama ♪
♪ Take me home, golden gates ♪
They thundered past fields of crimson wheat, stalks whispering as they rushed by. The wheat gave way to rolling hills covered in iridescent grass that seemed to sing when the wind touched it. Ayita's chuckle rang out as Kiera leapt over a babbling brook of liquid.
[Verse 2]
♪ All my memories gather 'round her ♪
♪ Minos' valley, stranger to black water ♪
♪ Dark and dusty, painted on the sky ♪
♪ Misty taste of moon wine, teardrops in my eye ♪
[Chorus]
♪ Golden Gates, take me home ♪
♪ To the place I belong ♪
♪ Ring Of Limbo, hollowed mama ♪
♪ Take me home, golden gates ♪
The scene shifted, and they were racing through a petrified forest. Trees of stone and crystal reached for the sky, their branches chiming like bells as Kiera's hooves kicked up glittering dust.
[Bridge]
♪ I hear her voice in the morning hour, she calls me ♪
♪ The Heaven reminds me of my home far away ♪
♪ Flying down the Hell, I get a feeling ♪
♪ That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday ♪
♪ Golden gates, take me home ♪
♪ To the place I belong ♪
♪ Ring of Limbo, hollowed mama ♪
♪ Take me home, golden gates ♪
♪ Goldens gates, take me home ♪
♪ To the place I belong ♪
♪ Ring of Limbo, hollowed mama ♪
♪ Take me home, golden gates ♪
[Outro]
♪ Take me home, (Down) hollowed roads ♪
♪ Take me home, (Down) hollowed roads ♪
...
...
What a beautiful Ring was destroyed...
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Outer Limbo Wasteland/Hollow Falls
The closer Little Limbo was, the more landscape gradually shifted from the wild, chaotic beauty of Outer Limbo to a more settled, pastoral scene. Most of Ars Colonia's money sinking machine were invested in this region, which allowed the gradual Colonization and "Infernonization" to occur in time.
As Rönne and Ayita approached Hollow Falls, They soon found themselves on a dirt road leading to a small ranch on the outskirts of City. In the distance, a young Imp was working in a field, his red skin glistening with sweat as he methodically worked the earth with a hoe. Near the modest farmhouse, a Cherubimp woman, still having tribal markings on her face, sat on the porch, her fingers deftly working at a pair of knitting needles.
The Imp paused in his work, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the approaching figure on horseback. Alarm flashed across his face, and he quickly made his way towards the house.
"Nazshoni!" He called out urgently to his wife. "Get the rifle! Could be raiders!"
Nazshoni looked up from her knitting, her eyes scanning the horizon. She stood, ready to retrieve the weapon, when suddenly a familiar sound reached her ears – a child's voice, carried on the wind. It took only seconds for recognition to dawn. Her eyes widened, and the knitting fell forgotten from her lap.
"Wait, Davis!" She cried out to her husband. "It's... it's Ayita!"
Without waiting for a response, Nazshoni burst into motion. She raced down the porch steps and across the yard, her feet barely touching the ground as she sprinted towards the approaching rider.
"Ayita! My baby!" Tears streamed down her face, and her voice rang out with unbridled joy.
Davis stood frozen for a moment, disbelief etched on his features. Then, as the reality of the situation sank in, he too began to run, following in his wife's wake.
As he drew closer, Rönne brought Kiera to a halt. He helped Ayita dismount, and the young Cherubimp took a few hesitant steps forward before breaking into a run of her own.
"Mama! Papa!" Ayita cried, her voice choked with emotion.
The family collided in a tangle of arms and tears. Nazshoni swept Ayita into a crushing embrace, peppering her face with kisses while Davis wrapped his arms around them both, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Rönne remained atop Kiera, watching the reunion with genuine pride. He'd completed his mission – Ayita was home, safe with her family. But the scene before him served as a poignant reminder of the bonds he'd left behind in Limbo.
After a few moments, Davis looked up, seeming to notice Rönne for the first time. He gently disentangled himself from the embrace and approached the Hellhorse. Rönne dismounted from Kiera, his boots stirring up small clouds as they hit the dry earth. The Hellhorse nickered softly, her dark eyes watching the scene with an almost human-like intelligence.
"You brought our daughter back to us, stranger." Davis said, his voice rough with emotion. "We... we lost her during the Buzzard Raid three days ago. We thought..." He trailed off, unable to voice the fear that had gripped them.
"Ayita is a survivor," Rönne clasped John's hand firmly, his gaze drifting to where the young Cherubimp was still wrapped in her mother's embrace. "She managed to escape, surviving the impossible."
"Every day is survival for us out here." Davis nodded, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips. He then gestured to the land around them. The once-fertile fields now bore scars of neglect and conflict, patches of scorched earth mingling with struggling crops. In the distance, the skeleton of a burned-out barn stood as a grim reminder of recent violence.
"The countryside has been constantly raided. Ars Colonia does nothing. They sit in their mansions in Little Limbo, blind to our suffering. And the rebels..." He spat the word like a curse. "The I.R.A. claims to fight for us, but their men pillage and loot our farms just the same."
"I know..." Rönne's expression darkened at the mention of the I.R.A. He turned to face Davis fully, his voice low and urgent. "But It's going to get worse down the line. The I.R.A. is planning something big. Sooner or later, they'll lay siege to Little Limbo itself. If you want to be safe – if you want Ayita to be safe – you should consider moving to Little Limbo. It's not perfect, but it's more defensible than out here."
A heavy silence fell between them as Davis' processed this information. After a moment, he nodded slowly.
"We'll... we'll think about it. Thank you."
"No need to thank me. Just make sure that Ayita is safe." Rönne gave one final advice. Sensing the conversation drawing to a close, he turned back to Kiera, preparing to mount.
"Wait!" Nazshoni called out, making him stop. "Please, you must stay for the night, mister. Let us repay you somehow for bringing our Ayita back to us."
But before Rönne could respond, a Ayita threw herself at Rönne, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude, and spoke softly in Cherokee:
"ᏩᏙ"
Rönne gently returned the hug. He didn't need to understand the words to grasp their meaning. With a small smile, he patted Ayita's head, saying goodbyes to her before he then gently disentangled himself.
"No payment necessary. Just... stay safe. And think about what I said." He said to Nazshoni and Davis.
With practiced ease, Rönne swung himself up onto Kiera's back. The Hellhorse pawed at the ground, sensing their impending departure. The Exorcist looked down at the family one last time – Ayita now back in her parents' protective embrace and nodded a farewell.
He urged Kiera into motion, the rising sun of Limbo painted the sky in grey and orange. Rönne and his mount were soon silhouetted against this infernal sunset, their figures growing smaller as they rode away from the small ranch. Behind him, a family reunited watched him go, their hearts full of gratitude.
For years, Rönne and his brothers and sisters had been an instrument of divine retribution, his hands stained with the blood of countless Sinners. Each extinguished soul had been a step towards some greater purpose, or so he had believed. But in those moments of violence, in the chaos of Exterminations, had he ever truly felt the warmth of righteousness?
Now, with the echoes of Ayita's grateful words still ringing in his ears, Rönne felt something he hadn't experienced in eons – a flicker of genuine contentment. He had saved a life, reunited a family, and for once, the aftermath of his actions brought joy rather than sorrow.
Rönne closed his eyes briefly, allowing the gentle breeze to caress his face. The old saying whispered through his mind: Small steps make you closer to Heaven. How ironic that here, in the depths of Limbo, he felt closer to that ideal than he ever had during his time as an Exorcist.
Opening his eyes, Rönne gazed at the horizon. The challenges ahead were daunting –looming conflict between Heaven and Hell. But now, a small spark of hope burned within him. If saving one child could bring such light to the darkness, what might be possible if he dedicated himself to protecting the innocent caught in this eternal war?
No matter what, He would continue to fight, not just for Heaven's victory, but for a better future...
...
And perhaps,
Step by small step
He could find his own path to redemption.
Notes:
Language Translations in Chronological Order:
1) "We'll tear you apart and feast on your bones, outsiders!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
2) "Kneel before sons of mighty Lycaon, prey!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
3) "The Hunt begins!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
4) "The Night Stalker has entered the hunt!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
5) "Prey is running. Catch it!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
6) "I can't see the prey! Where did it go?" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
7) "Search! That damn angel must be around here somewhere!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
8) "It has no smell! How can this damn angel hide so well?"- (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
9) "Still no trace? Vicar will eat us alive!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
10) "It doesn't matter. We still have that Goetia and some Imp. Let's loot this place and bring it back to our temple."
11) "It's been a long time since a Goetia has been seen around here. I am honored to sacrifice you to quench Lycaon's thirst for blood." - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
12) "Your kind has brought only misery to the Hellhounds. Now, your blood is going to change that." - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
13) "Bless the moon and our ancestors, the Vicarians! In honor of this victim, the Hounds of Hell will once again roam freely on the steppes!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
14) "Vicar! Excuse me, for interrupting the ritual!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
15 "It's okay. What happened?" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
16) "Intruders! They have entered our holy place!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
17) "Who? How many of them?" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
18) "A group consisting of two imps and Goetia. There is also an...Hellhound, my speaker." - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
19) "A Hellhound? Is he one of us...Fenrir perhaps?" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
20) "I don't know, Vicar. It doesn't look like it." - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
21) "The ritual will be postponed. I will personally welcome these intruders. All of you gather in the main hall. Be prepared." - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
22) "THE HOUND OF DEATH HAS COME FOR US! RUN!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
23) "That monster is behind you..." - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
24) "BEHIND!" - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
25) "Hello there. I want to ask you something. - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
26) "Okay" - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
27) "How are you doing? What is your name? - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
28) "Ayita. My name is Ayita. I was captured by Hellhounds, but I escaped. I hid myself from the monsters in the abandoned metro station.") - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
29) "Do you have anyone close to you nearby?" - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
30) "Yes. My parents live not far from Little Limbo, in Hollow Falls." - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
31) "This man will take you back to your parents. Be brave." - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])
32) "Thank you." - (Cherubimp Native [Actually Cheeroke])egins! (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish]
Chapter 35: In Praise of Lycanous Alpha-Khan
Summary:
"When the night is darkest and the winds howl with fury, only the pack shall endure. Those who stray, forsaking the will of the Moon and the Vicar, shall bring forth the bleeding skies of Fire Steppe. For the Moon bleeds not for the lost, but in defiance of those who dare walk alone in times of need." - Ancient Vicarian [Hellhound] Wisdom (Dated around 9000 BC)
Notes:
Sorry for delay. Emberlynn Pinkle declared my fanfic not-cannon to existence and I had to sacrifice at least 666 fanfic writers out there to appease our Goddess...Nevertheless! Finally after 5 years of working on this fic, THE Final chapter is us! Let us see how Charlie will deal with -
...
What do you mean we're still stuck on Episode 4?! Are you-you-OH, YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!
DAMM YOU, EMBERLYNN PINKLE!!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
October 2, 2025, AD (92 Days Before The Next Purge), 1:43 AM
(Ten Minutes before Exorcist Deadeye's awaking).
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Pride/Somewhere in Imp City/
The van's engine hummed steadily as it wound through the neon-lit streets of Imp City , I.M.P's garish logo barely visible in the unusually bright moonlight. Behind the wheel, Blitzo's fingers drummed an inconsistent rhythm against the steering wheel, stealing occasional glances at his passenger.
Prince Stolas...ex-Prince, he mentally corrected himself, sat in uncharacteristic silence, his elegant frame folded somewhat awkwardly into the passenger seat. His four eyes were fixed on Hell's moon, which hung low and impossibly bright in the crimson sky. The lunar glow caught on his feathers, casting him in an ethereal light that made him seem more otherworldly than usual.
A soft chuckle escaped Stolas's beak, his eyes never leaving the celestial body. As an expert in astronomy, he knew the patterns and movements of Hell's heavenly bodies intimately. Such brightness... it was often an omen, he mused. Whether for good or ill, such lunar brilliance always preceded significant events.
Thanks to that, A small smirk tugged at the corner of his beak as memories washed over him. The last time the moon had shone this brightly... Octavia had been born. He remembered holding her, so tiny and perfect, as moonbeams spilled through the window of the room. Even then, she'd had that stubborn glint in her eye, that spark of defiance that made her so uniquely her.
...
"...Oh, Octavia," He whispered, barely audible over the van's rumbling engine.
Many times he reminded himself that Octavia was no longer a child... but even then, it felt hard for Stolas to just... let it go, really.
His talons absently traced patterns on the window, mirroring the constellations above. The weight of Princedom of Ars Goetia pressed down on his shoulders, heavier than his ornate collar ever was for the entire time of him being an Prince under Sitri's and latter Vassago's talons.
But He'd seen it in Octavia's eyes at her inauguration—that same suffocating pressure, the expectations of millennia bearing down on her slender frame as she stood before the Ars Goetia Electorate. She had stood tall, his Via. Proud and unflinching, even as the Electors judged her worth and...fools tried to undermine her. But Stolas had seen her hands trembling, just slightly, behind her back. Just as his had, all those eons ago.
A pothole jolted the van, snapping Stolas from his reverie. He caught Blitzo watching him with an uncharacteristically concerned expression.
"You're thinking too loud again, Stolas," Blitzo said, his usual snark softened just slightly. "I can hear the gears grinding from here."
"Sorry...I just...I still worry for her, Blitzy. More than ever, perhaps." A deep sigh escaped Stolas, fogging the window slightly.
"She's tough as nails, that kid....probably tougher than you."
"That she is," Stolas agreed, a hint of pride coloring his voice. "But it's not just her capabilities I'm concerned about. It's... well Prince Gaap—" his beak twisted slightly at the name "- I don't trust him to do his part. Not one bit. And the Electorate... they're not what they seem. Everyday they spoke of glory and destiny, of how Solomon's book will restore Ars Goetia to its former glory...as if any of us in Princedom truly believed that tired old line anymore. And now my Via is caught in the middle of it all."
"Sounds like the kind of bullshit your bosses would spew. Just with more fancy words." Blitzo remarked, bored a bit.
"It really does..." Stolas's voice dropped lower, as if the very walls might be listening.
Blitzo remained silent for a moment, visibly uncomfortable with the topics of Goetian politics. He shifted in his seat, fingers tightening on the steering wheel as if physically grappling with what to say next. Politics and power plays weren't exactly his forte...afterall, he preferred problems he could shoot his way out of.
"Look, uh... are you gonna be okay?" Blitzo he cleared his throat. The question came out gruffly, almost reluctantly. "I mean, with everything that's happened. You're just a... what did you call it? A 'minor yeoman' of Ars Goetia now?"
A soft smile spread across Stolas's beak, touched by the rare display of genuine concern from his companion. He straightened in his seat, some of his old regal bearing returning despite the cramped confines of the van.
"I will be okay, Blitzy," He said, his voice carrying a quiet confidence. Stolas' gaze returned to the bright moon outside, but this time with a sense of peace rather than melancholy. "More than okay, actually. As long as Via inherits everything from me—my knowledge, my power, my understanding of what truly matters—I am content." He then chuckled softly, adding with a hint of his usual playfulness, "Besides, being a 'minor yeoman' has its perks....far less dreary noble meetings to attend, for one thing."
"Yeah, well, just don't expect me to start calling you 'Your Minor Yeoman-ness' or whatever." Blitzo snorted, some of the woriness on Stolas leaving his shoulders.
Stolas laughed, the sound tinged with self-deprecation. "Oh, Blitzy, you can call me whatever mean words you'd like now. What could I possibly do about it? I'm rather powerless these days." He spread his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "No more threatening to turn anyone into stone."
"Thank fucking Satan for that," Blitzo retorted, a grin spreading across his face. "Now I don't have to deal with any of your bullshit anymore."
Stolas's chuckle was awkward this time, trailing off into an uncertain silence. The humorous moment evaporated as quickly as it had come, leaving something heavier in its wake. He turned to face Blitzo fully, his expression unexpectedly vulnerable.
"Did... did you truly mean that?" Stolas asked softly, all pretense gone from his voice.
Blitzo's grin faltered, caught off guard by the sudden shift. He opened his mouth to make another joke, but something in Stolas's expression made him think better of it.
"I... well..." Blitzo fumbled, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
Before he could formulate a response, Stolas spoke again, his words coming in a rush. "I'm sorry, Blitzy. For everything. Truly, I am." He looked down at his hands, elegant fingers twisting together in his lap. "Being 'nothing' has given me quite the new perspective. On power, on privilege... on how I treated you."
The van slowed as they approached a red light, bathing them both in its crimson glow. Stolas took a deep breath, as if gathering his courage.
"I know I have no right to ask this, but... like you and I had conversation before: I'd like a chance. Not for what we had before—not for sex or pleasure or using each other." He met Blitzo's eyes, all four of his own filled with an earnest hope that was almost painful to witness. "A chance to become something genuine between us. Something... great."
The light turned green, but Blitzo didn't move, the van idling as Hell's traffic honked impatiently behind them. For once in his life, the normally quick-witted imp seemed completely speechless, his red eyes wide as he stared at the former prince beside him. Finally, Blitzo cleared his throat and eased his foot off the brake, the van lurching forward.
"I'll... think about it," he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't his usual outright rejection either.
The rest of the drive passed in silence, both occupants lost in their own thoughts as the van wound its way through the gradually more upscale streets of Hell. Despite his reduced status, Stolas's mansion still loomed impressively against the crimson sky, its windows dark except for a few scattered lights.
As Blitzo pulled up to the ornate gates, Stolas gathered his belongings—notably fewer than he used to carry. His hand hesitated on the door handle, then he turned back to the imp.
"Blitzy... would you perhaps be available next weekend?" The question carried a weight of hope, tempered by the expectation of disappointment.
Blitzo drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, pointedly not making eye contact. "I'll have to think about it. Got some stuff going on with my sister, so..." He shrugged, letting the sentence trail off.
"Of course, of course," Stolas said quickly, trying to hide his disappointment behind a smile. He opened the door, the cool night air rushing in. "Well, thank you for the ride, Blitzy."
As Stolas stepped out of the van, the bright moonlight once again caught his feathers, creating an almost ghostly silhouette against the mansion's dark facade. He looked back once, giving a small wave before starting up the long driveway to his home.
Blitzo watched him go, his expression unreadable. Only when Stolas had disappeared into the shadows did he put the van back in gear, muttering something under his breath that might have been "Goodnight, Stolas" as he pulled away from the gates.
The crunch of gravel under Stolas's boots seemed unusually loud as he made his way up the mansion's long driveway. The bright moonlight that had seemed almost magical from the van now felt harsh and exposing, as if purposely illuminating his reduced circumstances. As he crested the final curve, he stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat.
Lining the mansion's facade were rows of Ars Goetian Legionnaires—but not his own. The distinctive crimson and gold armor of Prince-Elector Vassago's forces gleamed on one side, while the midnight red and silver of Marquise-Elector Phenex's troops stood at attention on the other. Stolas's beak tightened at the sight of Phenex's insignia.
"Impeccable timing, as always, your majesty of Marquisate." He muttered darkly to himself.
But it was the activity beyond the formal guard lines that made his heart sink. His own Legion—former Legion, was in disarray. Soldiers were hauling crates and equipment, their movements hurried and uncertain. The proud sigils of Stolas was already being taken down from its poles, folded with a reverence that felt like a funeral rite.
Near the main steps, a familiar figure directed the controlled chaos. Commander Phios Goetia, resplendent in the purple and black of Stolas's house colors, was orchestrating the dismantling of everything they had built together.
"Commander Phios," Stolas called out, trying to keep his voice steady as he approached.
"Lord Stolas." Phios turned, his masked face betraying no emotion, but his posture stiffening noticeably. "Or... is it just Sir Stolas now?"
Stolas waved away the question, his eyes fixed on the activity around them. "How fare my...your troops, Commander?"
Phios's hands clasped behind his back, his stance widening slightly as if bracing for impact. "I'm afraid I bear... difficult news to you, sir. The 36th Legion of Ars Goetia is to be dismantled." His voice dropped lower, though the mask made it no less cutting. "We are to be divided between the forces of Prince-Elector Vassago and Marquise-Elector Phenex for now."
A young knight stumbled nearby, nearly dropping a crate bearing Stolas's personal seal. Stolas instinctively moved to help, his hand freezing mid-reach as he remembered his new position.
"I... see," Stolas managed, his eyes following the crate as another soldier rushed to assist. "Surely it's rather early for such partition."
"I don't deny it, sir." Phios's mask turned slightly, angling toward the mansion's illuminated windows. "The Electors are inside. They arrived shortly after moonrise. They—" He hesitated, clearly considering his words. "They said the transition couldn't wait until morning."
Stolas pinched the bridge of his beak, a quiet, bitter laugh escaping him.
"Typical...how unbearable they've become since Ars Bael's death," He muttered, more to himself than to Phios. Straightening his posture, Stolas turned to face his former commander fully. "Phios, I... I advise caution in the days to come. Even if Vassago or Phenex appear generous in their offerings, be vigilant. Especially with Phenex."
"The Legion will always be on standby, sir. No matter what colors we wear." Phios nodded, the subtle movement barely visible beneath his ornate mask. The loyalty in his voice was unmistakable, despite the formal tone.
An awkward silence fell between them, punctuated by the sounds of history being packed into crates and carted away. Both demon and commander watched as a group of soldiers carefully dismantled a ceremonial weapon rack, the ancient arms having never seen true combat under Stolas's peaceful reign.
"Sir Stolas," Finally, Phios cleared his throat, his usual military precision softening slightly. "I know that under your command, the Legion never saw conflict or... battles." He straightened, as if delivering a final report. "But it has been an honor and a pleasure to serve you."
The words struck Stolas like a physical blow, though he managed to maintain his composure. A small smile graced his beak, followed by a dignified nod. In a gesture that broke Ars Goetian norm, he extended his hand to Phios. The commander hesitated for just a moment, surprise visible even through his mask, before grasping it firmly. The handshake was brief but weighted with meaning—a final acknowledgment between a ex-spirit of Ars Goetia and his most trusted subordinate.
"Good luck, Commander Phios. Serve Ars Goetia as you always do." Stolas gave one finnal word as their hands, his expression hardening into something more befitting a member of the Ars Goetia, former prince or not. With measured steps, he made his way toward the mansion's main entrance, the grand doors that had once opened automatically at his approach now remaining stubbornly closed.
As he reached for the handle, one of Phenex's guards shifted,
"Remember to mind yourself in front of the Electors...Yeoman Stolas." The guard drawled, emphasizing the final word with barely concealed satisfaction,
Stolas's hand paused on the door handle, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly. Without acknowledging the guard, he pulled open the doors to his own home—now feeling more like entering a lion's den than returning to his sanctuary. The doors closed behind him with a resonant thud, leaving him alone in the entrance hall of a house that suddenly felt foreign and hostile.
The familiar halls of Stolas's mansion remained largely unchanged, yet felt fundamentally different. His footsteps echoed off the marble floors and vaulted ceilings, each step punctuated by the sound of activity throughout the building. Here and there, Phenex's legionaries worked methodically to remove the sigils of Stolas from the walls, the empty spaces they left behind somehow louder than the scraping and clattering of their work.
As he moved through the corridors, Phenex's guards tracked his progress with barely concealed disdain. Each turn brought a new pair of eyes, a new silent judgment. Stolas kept his gaze forward, his posture rigid, refusing to acknowledge the dismantling of his legacy happening quite literally around him.
The sounds of conversation drifted from the lounge ahead—one voice melodious and lilting, the other deep and measured. Stolas paused at the doorway, taking a moment to compose himself before stepping into view.
Marquise-Elector Phenex and Prince-Elector Vassago sat in his favorite reading nook, helping themselves to what was undoubtedly his finest tea service. Phenex was perched elegantly on a chaise lounge. Vassago's crimson attire provided a stark contrast as he sat in Stolas's personal armchair, his presence somehow making the furniture seem smaller.
"♪ It's not that I'm paranoid, Vassago. I simply worry about dear Astaroth's recent... proclivities, hmm, yes ♪." Phenex was saying, her voice rising and falling in its characteristic sing-song pattern. "♪ All this talk of expansion and conflict in Limbo. It's hardly becoming of an Elector of him, hmm, yes ♪."
Vassago's deep voice rumbled in response, "Astaroth remains loyal to Ars Bael's cause in the end, I assure you. His... enthusiasm... simply manifests differently than ours." He lifted his teacup, the delicate porcelain looking almost comical in his massive hand. "Besides, a little martial thinking might not be amiss in these changing times for Ars Goetia."
"♪ If you say so, darling, hmm, yes ♪," Phenex trilled, though her tone suggested scepticism. "♪ Though I do hope he remembers that not all power comes from the sword, hmm, yes. Like you and I, he will become an King once Ars will be chosen. That's where I'm rather...sceptical. ♪"
"I will handle Astaroth's ambitions if it ever happens...don't worry, Lady Phenex." Vassago reassured with all honesty.
It was at this moment that both Electors seemed to notice Stolas's presence, though he strongly suspected they had been aware of him all along. Phenex's face turned toward him, and he could almost feel the smile, even if he didn't look at her directly.
"♪ Ah, our gracious citizen returns at last, hmm, yes ♪," she sang, gesturing expansively with her teacup. "♪ Do come join us, dear Stolas. ♪."
Stolas pointedly avoided acknowledging Phenex's invitation, his four eyes instead fixing on Vassago with barely concealed concern. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help but feel a flutter of relief at addressing the Prince-Elector—a half-brother he had always respected for his fairness and integrity.
"Vassago," Stolas began, his voice steady despite the tension evident in his posture. "Might I inquire as to why my Legions are being dismantled rather than inherited by my daughter? Surely Octavia warrants—"
"♪ I'm afraid it's not that simple, hmm, yes ♪." Phenex interjected, her melodious voice grating against Stolas's nerves. "Proper protocol must be observed first, mustn't it♪?"
"Please, Phenex." Vassago raised a hand, silencing Phenex with surprising gentleness. He set down his teacup and addressed Stolas directly "It is, as uncomfortable as it may be, a standard procedure, Stolas. Per our agreement, your former Legion will be divided equally—half to the Marquisate of Ars Goetia, and half to the Princedom." He gestured between himself and Phenex
Stolas's beak tightened slightly, but he remained silent as Vassago continued.
"But this arrangement is temporary for now." The Prince-Elector assured him. "Once Gaap and Octavia return from their duties, the proper distribution of forces will be restored. They will each receive their rightful Legion."
"How wonderfully orderly from Electorate, hmm, yes♪," Phenex added, her beak tilting in what might have been amusement.
The implication in her words wasn't lost on Stolas, but he refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he kept his attention on Vassago, searching the Prince-Elector's expression for any hint of deception or ulterior motive. Finding none, he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, though his guard remained firmly up.
"And the timing of this... redistribution? Surely it could have waited until morning." Stolas said carefully.
"I won't lie to you, dear brother. But the situation in Limbo has forced our hand." Vassago leaned forward, his crimson robes rustling softly. "Astaroth has been... vocal about the need for Ars Goetia to stand on its own merit, without relying on the Seven Deadly Sins for support."
"As usual, Astaroth always being dramatic, hmm, yes♪." Phenex interjected, absently stirring her tea. "♪ Though I suppose even broken clocks chime correctly twice a day ♪."
Vassago continued, undeterred. "He's been asking me and Phenex for lending out the Princedom's legions in exchange for diplomatic favours. I accepted it so under our father's rule, we can forge a united Ars Goetia once more."
"♪ Which I must confess, I'm rather... amused with your approach of diplomacy. ♪" Phenex trilled, though there was an edge beneath her musical tone. "♪ Sitri wasn't that active as you're in his time and now you trying to appease everyone, aren't you, Vassago dear ♪?"
"As Prince, diplomacy is not just important—it's essential. The unity of Ars Goetia matters more than individual ambitions." Vassago spread his hands in a gesture of openness. But his voice took on a grimmer tone. "We've seen what internal strife can do. Backstabbing broke the back of Ars Theurgia Goetia, and Lycaon's Horde of Hellhounds was all too happy to take advantage of the chaos."
"♪ Oh, let's not pretend that was purely internal strife, hmm, yes ♪." Phenex said, her voice sharp despite its melodious quality. She turned her face toward Stolas. "If I recall correctly, it was a certain Stolas—not you, dear, but infamous Stolas of Theurgia Goetia who couldn't keep his urges in check around that Vicar Amelia of "The GreatHounds". Isn't that right, hmm, yes♪?"
"Ancient history." Vassago rumbled, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to the present.
"♪ Eh, if only Sitri would have heard it...♪" Phenex's attention suddenly shifted to one of her legionaries standing at attention by the door. A slow, knowing smirk formed on her beak as if caught in some private reminiscence. "♪ Well, no use arguing over spilled blood, hmm, yes. I trust everything is properly set and done between us, hmm, yes♪?"
"Indeed, Lady Phenex." Vassago rose from his seat, his impressive height making the room seem suddenly smaller. "I should return to Lemegeton—the usual Electorate business never sleeps." He adjusted his fancy star glasses with a practiced gesture. "I wish you both the best of days. Ta-Da!"
And with that, Vassago departed with his legionaries following him. His departure left a vacuum in the room, filled only by the oppressive silence between the remaining occupants. Phenex remained seated, radiating an air of smug satisfaction as she observed Stolas, who stood rigid and increasingly impatient under her gaze.
"♪ I know you want it...♪" Phenex grinned even more. "♪ I sure do enjoy being called mean words ♪."
Finally, Stolas could bear it no longer from Phenex's bullshit.
"I see you're now stealing my daughter's belongings as well" He hissed sharply, his composure cracking slightly.
Phenex's head tilted, the patronizing smile was evident in her voice...not to mention it's now a third round for them.
"♪ Now, now, dear♪. You're speaking to an Elector of Ars Goetia, hmm, yes. Do show the proper respect... what little you have left to show to us. ♪" She raised a finger as if scolding a child. "♪ Everything being done here is for Octavia's benefit in the end, hmm, yes. You should be grateful to me. ♪"
Stolas let out an agonized sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. These games with Phenex had always been exhausting—even with Stella it had been somewhat bearable. But now...
"Let's dispense with the pleasantries, shall we?" Stolas said, his voice tight with barely contained frustration. "You've been trying to steal Octavia from me since the funeral pyre in the Valley of Ars Belial. Every move, every scheme—"
"♪ I see someone finally grow a birdbone...BRAVO!♪" Phenex hissed, her musical tone taking on a dangerous edge. Her usual affected playfulness vanished, replaced by genuine anger. "♪ Do not presume to understand my motives, Yeoman Stolas. Everything I have schemed has been for Octavia's sake, hmm, yes. I could have discarded Octavia at any time if I really wanted. Instead, I worked with Stella to plot in your daughter's favour. Or did you miss the part where she's now a Marquise instead of a mere Princess♪?"
"And you couldn't deign to include me in these plots? I would have done anything— anything—to my owlet!" Stolas's feathers bristled with indignation.
"♪ Oh, you simple-simple bird ♪." A harsh, musical laugh escaped Phenex as she shook her head. "♪ You would have fucked everything up so spectacularly, rushing about like a headless imp, hmm, yes. My plan required a slow, careful hand. It was all proceeding according to plan until Princess Charlie came along and made even better for us. ♪" She turned away, gesturing dismissively
"That's not an excuse! She is my daughter!" Stolas' eyes narrowed.
Suddenly, Phenex whirled around, her composed demeanor shattering entirely.
"♪ AND SHE'S MY GREAT NIECE TOO, YOU SELF-CENTERED FOOL! ♪" She screamed, her musical voice cracking with genuine emotion.
The outburst seemed to surprise even her, causing the nearby legionaries to shift uncomfortably. For a moment, the only sound in the room was Phenex's slightly ragged breathing as she collected herself. Her head tilted downward, and when she spoke again, her voice had lost some of its affected singsong quality.
"Listen, Stolas. At the end of the day, I don't... I don't hate you. Not really." Phenex said, quieter now but no less intense. She smoothed her hair, a gesture that seemed more about regaining composure than actual necessity. "The things I've said, the way I've treated you—don't take them to heart, hmm, yes. All of it was to paint a picture. To show the rest of Electors that you could no longer handle being a Prince. It allowed for a more unified Electorate decision when it came time for Octavia to take the reins instead♪."
The silence that followed Phenex's outburst was deafening. Stolas stood frozen, not sure how to respond to it. He won't lie that her...cruelty had been, in its own twisted way, a calculated kindness. Still it felt rather....her words hurt a lot from him.
"If what you say is true," Stolas began carefully, his voice was quiet, measured, but tinged with a hint of skepticism, thus giving Phenex a benefit of doubt. "Then why take such an... extreme approach? I can see that everything you've done seems just a calculated move to gain yourself an obedient Marquise, not to mention the political advantage."
"♪ Oh, darling. I couldn't give less of a shit about politics. What none of Princes ever understood—was that Octavia's future as a mere Princess was grimmer than the deepest pit of Hell. ♪" Phenex's musical laugh held a sharp edge. She moved to the window, her elegant form silhouetted against Hell's crimson sky. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its affected lilt, becoming unnaturally serious. "Do you know what happens to Female Princesses in our circles, hmm yes? They become bargaining chips. Political pawns if you will." Her voice took on a bitter tone. "She would have been married off to some self-important jackass of an House or their heir. Someone who would have treated her like a trophy at best, a burden at worst. I-I would-not-ALLOW IT....not to my Via, hmm no."
Stolas flinched at her words, memories of his own arranged marriage to Stella flashing through his mind. Phenex continued, her composure cracking further.
"You think I enjoyed watching that precious girl grow up in the shadow of a failing marriage? Seeing her caught between you and Stella, while vultures like my brother and your father circled, waiting to sink their claws into her future?" She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No. She deserved better. She deserved a choice."
Phenex made a stop, as she glanced at the moon...with nothing but thoughts on Via.
"I won't deny that having Octavia under me benefits me a lot. But that's not my goal. Marquise, Duchess, President or even Knight, doesn't matter. All I want is to see Octavia as an Elector, who no doubt will bring bright future if Goetias like her are part of it."
"That she can..." Stolas sank slowly into a nearby chair, the weight of Phenex's words settling over him like a heavy cloak. His talons drummed thoughtfully against the armrest. "I... I suppose...you're right. Political marriage is what worried me worst. You do know that Octavia is... well, she's on the-?"
"♪ Don't, Stolas. Don't finish that thought. ♪." Phenex cut him off sharply, her musical tone returning but brittle around the edges. She turned to face him fully, her posture softening almost imperceptibly. "♪ I know who she is...and I see myself in her, Stolas. When I was...when I was too innocent for the games of Ars Goetia ♪."
"So...that's why you never...married?" Stolas saw it fully now.
"♪ A lot of Goetias want my hand and fuck me into a submissive wife...not surprising, huh? ♪" Phenex just smirked at it...followed by rolls of her eyes.
A heavy silence fell between them as she moved to the window again, her reflection fragmenting in the stained glass. When she spoke next, her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it filled the room.
"♪ Do you know what happens when you're different in Ars Goetia, hmm yes? When you don't fit the mold they've crafted for you over millennia♪?" Her talons traced abstract patterns on the glass. "♪ They break you. Reshape you. Until you're unrecognizable even to yourself. You resisted yourself...and look where you're now as they stripped you apart...But I won't let that happen to her. Not to Octavia. ♪"
Stolas felt as if he was truly seeing Phenex for the first time. Not as the dramatist, the schemer, or even the Elector—but as someone who had walked a path she was desperately trying to spare his daughter from traversing.
"Phenex, I..." Stolas rose from his chair, taking a tentative step toward her. "I owe you an apology. For everything. For misunderstanding your intentions, for—"
"♪Oh, do shut up♪," Phenex interrupted, though without her usual venom. She waved a dismissive hand, but there was something almost gentle in the gesture. "♪ I don't expect to be forgiven, hmm yes. Not after everything I've said and done. The words I used against you were cruel, even if the intent behind them wasn't. What matters now is helping Octavia navigate what's to come♪."
Once she moved closer to Stolas, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Probably for the first time that Phenex spoke with Stolas equal terms.
"As an her Elector, I'll do my part. So you don't have to worry about your father. I've been managing difficult men under who above me for millennia, hmm yes. One more won't make a difference even if Paimon is an Ars of Goetia." Her beak curved in a small, knowing smile. "You focus on being there for her. She'll need your guidance more than ever, even if she's too proud to admit it♪."
"I will...for Via." Stolas hoped she would see his reasons.
"For Via." Phenex agreed fully.
Stolas nodded slowly, a new understanding forming between them. For the first time that night, a genuine smile crossed Stolas's beak.
"I suppose I should thank you, then. For looking out for her when I couldn't myself."
"♪ You're welcome, Stolas. ♪" Phenex simply nodded. She is rather very friendly to him now. Gone that smug exterior and replaced with rather...equal conversation. "♪ But don't thank me yet. The real challenge is only beginning for her. But at least now...at least now she won't have to face it alone if you and I will be here for her, hmm yes♪?"
"True..." Stolas slowly nodded, though he still felt...concerned. Stolas hesitated for a moment, then called out just as Phenex walked around. "Do you truly believe she'll succeed? That Octavia can handle herself with book?"
Phenex remained silent at first, then let out a gentle, musical laugh that was notably different from her usual affected trill.
"♪ Oh, darling. Do you really see her as some damsel in distress waiting for her father to swoop in and save her, hmm yes?♪"
"Of course not," Stolas replied, somewhat defensively. "But I can't help worrying. It's not exactly an easy path she's walking...with Gaap."
"♪ There's something you've must quite understand the opposite sex, Stolas. Women's stubbornness. ♪" Phenex turned back, her posture straightening with pride. She gestured expansively, her voice taking on a theatrical quality that somehow felt more genuine than her usual performance. "♪Your daughter has the stubbornness of Stella whether you like it or not, hmm yes. She'll kick ass if needed, and look absolutely fabulous doing it ♪."
"I know she's capable, but—" Stolas couldn't help but smile slightly at that, though doubts still lingered in his eyes.
"♪ But nothing ♪," Phenex interrupted, then her voice softened unexpectedly. "♪ I understand you're worried as you're her dad...but I'm confident with her...and I don't need some prophecy to see it clearly."
"Prophecy?" Stolas's feathers ruffled slightly at the word. "What prophecy?"
"♪ Ah, surprised your father didn't mention. Then again, we rather don't mention that time anymore. ♪" She said as she moved around the room, her steps deliberate, almost ceremonial as she looked at painting, admiring Stolas' property. "♪ Have you ever wondered why Ars Bael always taken such an... interest in the prophecies of Ars Goetia, hmm yes?♪"
"I don't-"
"♪ Everytime that Ars Bael spoke of a future when the legendary Book—his book—would be found again. ♪" Phenex didn't wait for an answer. "♪ Not just found, but understood. Used not for binding, but for building something new♪."
After adjusting one of the vases that weren't aligned properly, just because she really didn't like the way it looked, Phenex then turned to face Stolas directly, her usual performative demeanor completely gone.
"♪ He said it would be found by one who carries the blood of those who were bound, but bears the wisdom to break the chains of the past. Someone who could see beyond the ancient grudges and grievances♪." A knowing smile curved her beak. "♪Sounds rather close to you, doesn't it?"
"And for that, she was sent for The Book of Solomon... " Stolas saw it fully, connecting dots from what Astaroth said earlier. "Is that why the Electorate has been so—"
"♪ Obsessed? Paranoid? Desperately grabbing at any scrap of power they can find after Bael's death?♪" Phenex finished for him. She once more moved closer to Stolas, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "♪ Astaroth knows the prophecy, or at least pieces of it. He thinks finding the Book will restore Ars Goetia to its former glory. Return us to the days of Arsinium Goetia if you will ♪." A small, almost sad smile crossed her beak. "♪ But that's not what Solomon meant at all♪."
"And you... you actually met Solomon...in person?" Stolas asked, equally quietly.
"♪ Indeed. Remember that I have been here since that faithfully day in Heaven. I still remember as clearly as if it were yesterday ♪." Phenex's voice took on a distant quality, as if she were reaching back through millennia of memories. She settled gracefully into a nearby chair. "♪ Ah, Solomon-Solomon... now there was a human worth knowing, hmm yes. Not like the sniveling conjurers who came after him, thinking they could bind Ars Goetia with parlor tricks and stolen words, only to seek knowledge to get rich quickly ♪."
"What was he like?" Stolas found himself asking.
"♪ Imagine, if you will, a mortal who looked upon beings of immense power and saw not tools to be used or monsters to be feared, but... as equals ♪. He was the King of Israel, yes, but more than that—he was a scholar, a philosopher, a man of wisdom beyond his years♪."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on an instructional tone.
"♪You see, what most don't understand is that Solomon didn't simply bind us to build his temple. He sought to understand the very nature of creation itself♪." A soft, musical chuckle escaped her. "♪He believed that by studying beings like us, he could better comprehend the divine plan of the one-who-shall-be-not mentioned, hmm yes. He had this way of looking at you—as if he could see right through all the power and majesty to who you really were. When he spoke, even the proudest among us found ourselves listening. Though I'm sure some would rather die than admit that, hmm yes."
"And you believe Octavia has this same... understanding?" Stolas absorbed this information in thoughtful silence before asking that.
"♪ She has the potential for it, hmm yes. Like you, I've watched her grow, seen how she looks at the world—not just as it is, but as it could be♪." Her voice took on a hint of pride. "♪She has Solomon's gift of seeing beyond the surface, beyond the ancient grudges and posturing that plague the Goetian kind. That's why I believe the Book must be found by her, not by those who would use it merely to regain what was lost. As Solomon told me once, the Ars Goetia that we know is gone, Stolas—what matters now is what we build from its ashes ♪."
A frown slowly formed on Stolas's beak as he processed everything Phenex had told him. Something nagged at the edges of his mind—a missing piece in this grand puzzle.
"There's something that doesn't quite add up," He said slowly, his academic mind whirring into action. "The Electorate's obsession with Solomon's book... it seems excessive if they're only seeking new spells or rituals." He straightened, four eyes narrowing slightly. "We already possess considerable power. What could be so important in that book that would make Ars Goetia scramble like this?"
Phenex went very still at his words. The usual musical lilt disappeared from her voice entirely as she turned away from him, her shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly.
"Phenex?" Stolas pressed, sensing he'd struck a nerve. "What aren't you telling me?"
For a long moment, only the distant sounds of the Legion's dismantling filled the heavy silence. Finally, Phenex let out a long, weary sigh and closed her eyes.
"I hope you can keep it between us, Stolas."
"Of course I can, Phenex."
Hearing his confirmation, she turned back to face him, her expression was uncharacteristically grave.
"♪ Ars Bael...♪" She began, then paused as if the very words were difficult to speak. "♪ It's no secret the Electorate only exists for Ars Bael to be not involved in Goetia's rulership. To him, we were just his eternal regents. Most of time after fall of Theurgia Goetia, he only ever saw one thing when he looked at Solomon's legacy. One artifact that consumed his thoughts until the day he died, hmm yes. ♪"
"What artifact?" Stolas felt a chill run down his spine, though he couldn't say why.
Phenex's eyes met his, and in them, he saw the weight of millennia—of secrets kept and prices Goetia paid...
"The Ark of The Covenant."
...
...
...
"Um...who's there?"
Complete and utter darkness surrounded Octavia as she called out, so absolute that even her owl eyes couldn't penetrate it. The silence was deafening, pressing against her eardrums like a physical force. She tried to move, to speak, but found herself frozen in place, suspended in the nothingness.
Then...a sound once more.
Slow, methodical footsteps echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. A figure emerged from the darkness, its form seeming to absorb what little light might have existed in this void. Tall and imposing, it moved with an unnatural grace, its body shrouded in tattered robes that seemed to writhe and shift of their own accord. Where a face should have been, there was only a mask—bone-white and hollow-eyed, yet somehow radiating an intense awareness that fixed upon Octavia with terrifying focus.
"Lord...Bael?" Octavia was confused...he is dead...h-how?
"Young Goetia," Ars Bael intoned, his voice carrying the eons in him. The sound of mechanical breathing filled the void, each exhale sending a chill down Octavia's spine. When he spoke, the voice was deep, resonant, and utterly inhuman, seeming to come from within her own mind rather than from the Bael before her "The time draws near."
"W-what?" Octavia made few steps away, even her psyche can't handle the energy coming from Ars himself.
"Tell me, 36th Spirit..." Ars Bael continued, moving closer with each thundering breath. "Do you feel it? Solomon's might pulsating all around this Ring?"
"I don't-" Octavia was confused as void, not knowing what to say.
"Then it's done. The cycle has finished...and Solomon's prophecy has come into fruition. As the Root of All Evil wills it...YOU shall be my new protégé."
Octavia tried to back away, to speak, to scream—
"TAVI!"
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Somewhere in Outer Limbo Wasteland/
Reality slammed back into focus with the screech of twisting metal and the acrid smell of smoke. Octavia's eyes snapped open to a world of chaos and fire. The luxury train car she'd been traveling in was now a burning wreck, tilted at a sickening angle. Smoke burned her lungs as she tried to orient herself.
"Via! Come on, we gotta move!"
A strong hand gripped her arm, and Octavia found herself being roughly dragged away from the burning debris. Through her daze, she recognized Loona, the hellhound's fur singed and her clothes torn, but her eyes fierce with determination.
"L-Loona?" Octavia managed to cough out. "What—"
"Less talking, more moving, princess!" Loona growled, bodily hauling Octavia through the debris. They tumbled onto the ashen ground of the Ring of Limbo, the heat of the burning wreckage pressing against their backs. Around them, the desolate landscape stretched endlessly, broken only by the twisted tracks and the scattered debris.
"There take a breath, Tavi." Loona set her friend down for her to get her bearing.
Octavia coughed from smoke as consciousness returned to her in fragments—first the acrid smell of smoke, then the crackle of flames, finally the dull ache that seemed to permeate her entire body. As her eyes fluttered open, the world slowly swam into focus.
They were in some kind of valley, the steep walls rising on either side like the maw of some great beast. Above them, the twisted remains of the train track stretched across the gap, with several train compartments still dangling precariously, swaying in the hot winds of Hell. Debris littered the ground around them, pieces of their once-luxurious transport scattered like discarded toys.
"Glad you're alive and well, your highness," Moxxie's voice came from nearby. "You took quite a hit."
Octavia turned her head to see the imp sitting on an overturned luggage trunk, his right hand being carefully bandaged by Millie. Despite his obvious discomfort, he managed a small smile in Octavia's direction.
"How long was I out?" Octavia asked, her voice raspy from the smoke.
"'We just found you, dearest." Millie answered, not looking up from her task. Her usual cheerful demeanor was subdued, replaced by a focused professionalism. "There, hon. That should hold until we can get you proper medical attention." She patted Moxxie's newly bandaged hand gently.
A few yards away, Striker stood next to his demonic steed, carefully rubbing the creature's exposed skull in slow, affectionate circles. The horse—if it could truly be called that—snorted flames occasionally, its red eyes scanning the valley walls warily.
As Octavia's mind cleared, she became acutely aware of who wasn't present.
"Where are the others? Where is Charlie...Olivia?" She asked, trying to keep the panic from her voice
A heavy silence fell over the group. It was Loona who finally spoke up
"We searched everywhere...you're the last we found, Tavi."
"And Prince Gaap is missing aswell." Moxxie added, flexing his bandaged hand experimentally. "We don't know if they—"
"They're alive," Striker interrupted, his voice carrying its usual drawl despite the situation. "Ain't no way a little train wreck's gonna take out that rich ass princely asshole." He turned from his horse, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "Question is, is that Heaven's little smiley fella alive and not hunting us down."
Octavia's stomach churned as the full weight of their situation crashed down upon her. The Exorcist. In all the realization, she'd nearly forgotten about him.
"Oh, spirits." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the wreckage behind them. "The Exorcist... if he survived and got to Oli..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought, hating how her voice quavered. "There is no doubt we need to move. But... I don't... I'm not..."
Her legs felt weak, and she found herself sinking to her knees in the ashen soil. In this situation, Charlie would know what to do. Charlie always knew what to do, with her endless optimism and surprisingly strategic mind. But Charlie wasn't here, and Octavia felt the crushing weight fall onto her shoulders by default.
If she is correct, it will be four days to Little Limbo—and that was if they knew exactly where they were going. No supplies, no shelter, and potentially being hunted by one of Heaven's most lethal weapons. She wasn't cut out for this. She was a Marquise, for Satan's sake. What did she know about surviving in the wastelands?
"Via, breathe. Just breathe for a second." Loona crouched beside her, a rare look of concern crossing her usually stoic features.
"This is so fucked up in so many levels, Loonie. I'm not fucking Charlie." She finally blurted out, her voice cracking. "I don't... I don't know how to handle this. Any of this." Her hands trembled as she gestured at the desolate landscape around them. "If that Exorcist finds us, we're dead. If we don't find water soon, we're dead. If we get lost out here..." She didn't need to finish the thought.
Striker's horse let out a snort of flames, making Octavia flinch. The bounty hunter himself remained silent, but she could feel his judgemental gaze on her. Moxxie and Millie exchanged glances, clearly unsure how to respond to their employer's daughter's breakdown.
"Hey," Loona said softly, nudging Octavia with her elbow. "Your brain's doing that thing again."
"What thing?" Octavia startled slightly, as if pulled from a trance.
"That thing where you spiral into thinking you can't handle shit." Loona's voice was gruff but gentle.
Octavia let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. "Because I can't handle this, Loona. I'm not... I'm not built for this kind of situation. I'm just..." She gestured helplessly at herself. "I'm just me."
Loona was quiet for a moment, sighing herself, seeing that they weren't that far away when they had that moment in Mortal World. Still, she won't lie. She learned from Blitzo when it comes to "Pep-talking"...though less of "Dick sucking offers"
"Remember that night in Lust Ring?" Loona out of nowhere asked that.
"What?" Octavia blinked, caught off guard by the seemingly random question.
"That night in club. When we snuck out of that boring-ass charity gala your dad dragged you to." A hint of a smile played at the corners of Loona's mouth. "Remember what happened?"
"We... we ended up in that dive bar. The one with the terrible karaoke." Despite everything, Octavia felt a small smile tugging at her own lips.
"And?"
"And some drunk asshole tried to start shit with us." Octavia's voice grew slightly stronger as she recalled the memory. "He wouldn't take no for an answer, kept trying to get us to sing with him."
Loona nodded, continuing. "And what did you do?"
"I..." Octavia paused, realization dawning on her face. "I used my powers. Created that illusion that made him think his ex-wife was there. He ran out crying."
"Exactly." Loona's tail swished behind her as she mentioned. "You didn't throw a punch, you didn't need to. You used what you had – that big brain of yours and your freaky owl powers. And it worked better than any fight would have. And let's not forget how you handled those rebels. Fucking badass, the way you took command. Had those hardened mercenaries practically pissing themselves with just your voice."
"I was terrified the whole time." Octavia felt her feathers ruffle slightly at the memory. Everything that happened on train was just...adrenaline for her.
"Yeah, but you didn't let it stop you. And what about that gunship?" Loona's grin turned feral. "The way you reached out with your powers and twisted metal until it crashed? That was metal as heaven...no pun intended. But the point is, you did what needed to be done. You protected us."
Octavia again didn't dignify with response, lowering her eyes in rather self-doubting.
"Look, I'm not good at all this emotional crap, but here's the deal. You and me? We make a pretty fucking good team. You've got the brains and the weird magic, I've got the claws and the attitude. As long as we stick together, we're a force to be reckoned with." She glanced at the others. "And with this bunch of weirdos? We're practically unstoppable. Even if it doesn't feel like it right now."
"A force to be reckoned with, huh?" Octavia felt a warmth in her chest, a small spark of confidence beginning to grow.
"Damn straight." Loona nodded firmly. "So stop doubting yourself, Via. You're a Goetia, and more importantly, you're my best friend."
Octavia closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Loona really did managed to restore that confidence to herself.
"Okay...okay...You got this, Via," she whispered to herself, straightening her posture as she exhaled. With newfound determination, she got to her feet and made her way over to Moxxie and Millie, with Loona following her friend.
"How are you both holding up? Are you okay to move?" She asked, her voice carrying a touch more authority than before.
"I'll manage, your highness. But I'm more concerned about the others. They could be anywhere in this satanforsaken valley." Moxxie tested his injured arm, wincing slightly.
Octavia nodded, her brow furrowing.
"I know. But we can't just—"
"If y'all are done with the pep talk," Striker drawled, cutting her off as he sent his horse away to find his own path and stepped forward, "I reckon I scout ahead. Some of our missing crew might've ended up topside." He gestured to the cliff where the track still hung precariously, several train compartments swaying in the hot winds.
"Why do you care?" Octavia was distrustful of him.
"Personnel business, your majesty...not to mention that Exorcist might be lurking around up there. In the meantime, get our fellas safe and sound."
Before anyone could protest, Striker had already pulled a length of rope from his saddlebag. With practiced ease, he fashioned a lasso and threw it, catching it around a piece of protruding metal from one of the hanging compartments.
"Just wait for—" Octavia started, but the bounty hunter was already scaling the rope with impressive agility.
As he climbed, the compartment groaned ominously, metal shrieking against metal. Octavia's heart leaped into her throat as she saw the car begin to twist, its connection to the track weakening with each passing second.
"Get down from there, you idiot!" Octavia shouted, seeing nothing but madness.
Striker had nearly reached the top when the compartment gave a final, sickening lurch. In a display of reflexes that seemed almost supernatural, he pushed off from the train car, using his momentum to swing toward the cliff face just as the compartment broke free with a thunderous crack.
The sound of the impact as the train car crashed to the valley floor was deafening, sending up a cloud of dust and debris that momentarily obscured everyone's vision. As the dust began to settle, they could make out Striker's form, pressed against the cliff face, still holding onto his rope which was now secured to a different, more stable part of the track above.
"See you latter cowpokes!" Striker tipped his hat as he began to climb up, disappearing from their view once he got himself up there.
"So much for help, I guess," Octavia muttered to herself. She took another deep breath, thinking it trough. They could follow the trail above, potentially finding their friends faster but exposing themselves to whatever might be hunting them. Or they could continue through the valley, safer but slower.
"HEY! HEY!"
Before Octavia think of something, a distant call echoed through the valley—but this time, it wasn't the ethereal screech of the Exorcist. This was different, familiar.
"Was that...?" Millie trailed off, her eyes wide.
Another call, clearer this time.
"Hey! You stupid fucks still alive down there?"
"That Grumpy voice...HUSK!" Octavia's heart leaped. Without hesitation, she and the others rushed toward the sound, scrambling over debris and loose rocks.
As they rounded a bend in the valley wall, they saw them—three figures standing near the entrance of a cave system higher up the cliff face. The unmistakable silhouette of Husk, his wings spread slightly for balance, stood alongside two imps Octavia recognized as Shmucks and Killbane, Millitech goons that helped them alot.
"Thank Spirits! HEY, We're here!" Octavia breathed, relief washing over her.
The gambling-addicted cat demon peered down at them, his expression as grumpy as ever despite the circumstances.
"Well, I will be fucked in the closest. You all survived."
"Have you seen Charlie? Or any of the others?"
"No sign of the princess or the Radio Demon. I'm stuck with these two jonnies," Husk's ears flattened slightly, gesturing to Shmucks and Killbane.
"Yeah well, fuck you too, Sinner." Shmucks offered with a shrug, earning an eye roll from Killbane.
Husk continued, gesturing to the cave behind them. "There's a whole system back there. Might be our ticket out of this shithole and onto the normal Limbonian plains. Better than being sitting ducks out here, anyway."
"What about Striker?" Moxxie asked, glancing back the way they'd come. "He was scouting ahead..."
"Who gives a shit. That snake can take care of himself," Husk growled. "Right now, we need to move. This is enemy territory, in case you forgot."
"Yeah!" Killbane nodded, absently checking the ammunition in his rifle. "We saw some weird shit before train got kaboom. Markings on the rocks that weren't normal."
"What about that Exorcist?" Octavia asked grimly. "We didn't find his body."
"All the more reason to get moving." Husk's expression darkened. "Listen up—me and these two rejects will scout ahead, make sure the path is safe. The rest of you follow at a distance. If you hear anything that sounds like trouble, find a place to hide and stay put. Got it?"
"Got it." Octavia nodded, trying to ignore the knot of worry in her stomach. "And Husk?"
The cat demon paused, looking back at her.
"Thanks....for finding us."
"Yeah, well," He grumbled, though there was a hint of fondness in his gruff voice, "Someone's gotta keep you kids from getting yourselves killed. Charlie would never let me hear the end of it otherwise."
With that, Husk and the two imps disappeared into the darkness of the upper cave, Octavia felt relief at finding more survivors. But she still worry for those still missing, and a growing sense of unease about caves. But they had no choice. Forward was their only option.
"Ready?" She asked, looking at her companions.
"You mean ready to get the hell out of this valley? Always." Loona cracked her knuckles.
With one last look at the burning wreckage behind them, they stepped into the darkness of the cave, leaving the harsh light of Limbo behind them.
The cave system was a stark contrast to the scorching wasteland they'd left behind. Cold air seeped from the depths, carrying with it the musty scent of wet stone and mineral deposits. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, each drop echoing ominously through the winding tunnels. The walls glistened with moisture, occasional crystalline formations catching what little light penetrated this far.
Octavia raised her hand, summoning a soft, purple glow that emanated from her palm. The magical light cast long shadows on the cave walls, making the normal formations seem almost alive, shifting and moving with each step they took.
Behind them, Moxxie kept his rifle trained on their rear, the weapon's silvery surface reflecting Octavia's light as he periodically checked for any signs of pursuit. Millie stayed close to him, her own weapons at the ready, while Loona took point just behind Octavia.
"Hey, Via?" After a few minutes of careful progress, Loona broke the tense silence. Her voice was unusually hesitant. "Are you hurt? From the crash, I mean."
"I'm fine," Octavia responded, ducking under a low-hanging stalactite. "Just some bruises, nothing serious."
"That's... not what I meant." Loona's ears twitched, and she clarified, her voice dropping even lower. "On that train...did that fucking Exorcist hurt you? Before the crash?"
Octavia's light flickered briefly as the memory of the encounter flashed through her mind.
"Surprisingly, no. It... whatever he was, didn't seem interested in me at all. Actually..." She paused, both in speech and movement, causing the others to stop as well. "The Exorcist was after Gaap. Specifically Gaap."
"What?" Moxxie's voice came from behind them, sharp with surprise. "Why would an Exorcist target a specific demon? They usually just kill indiscriminately."
"I don't know." Octavia shook her head, her feathers rustling softly in the cave's draft. "But he was.. different from the Exorcists we usually see during the purges. More focused. More...smug asshole" She suppressed a shudder, making Loona wheeze out from it. "and it spoke to me...they don't usually speak, do they?"
"Not in any language I've ever heard," Millie confirmed, her usually cheerful voice somber.
"So let me get straight." Loona's claws scraped against the stone floor as she shifted her weight. "So we've got a Exorcist who infiltrated in order to hunt specific demon, right when we're transporting said demon to Limbo...that's not a coincidence."
"But why Gaap?" Octavia mused, more to herself than the others. "What makes him so important that Heaven would send—"
A sudden clatter of falling rocks cut her off, the sound echoing through the tunnel. Everyone froze, weapons raised. Octavia's magical light flickered slightly with her startled movement, causing the shadows to dance erratically across the cave walls. Then they saw them—red eyes, dozens of them, gleaming from every crack and crevice in the cave walls.
"Via..." Loona's voice was barely above a whisper, her hackles raised. "Please tell me you're seeing this too."
"I wish I wasn't," Octavia responded, her own voice trembling slightly.
Moxxie had his back pressed against the cave wall, gun trained on the nearest set of eyes. "What are they?"
As if in response to his question, there was a collective movement. The eyes began to retreat, pulling back into the darkness of their holes and gaps. The motion was eerily synchronized, like a tide pulling back from the shore.
"Did... did we scare them off?" Millie asked, her knuckles white around the grip of her weapon.
"Somehow, I doubt we're that lucky," Loona growled.
Octavia increased the intensity of her light, trying to illuminate the crevices where the eyes had been. But there was nothing to see—just empty holes in the rock, as if the watchers had never existed at all.
"We need to move," Octavia said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Now."
As they hurried forward, the sensation of being watched didn't fade. If anything, it intensified. Every shadow seemed to hide more of those ember-like eyes, every sound could be the watchers following them through the rock itself.
"Okay, so we've got a Heaven-sent assassin behind us and fucking cave monsters around us," Loona muttered as they walked. "Any other surprises this shithole wants to throw at us?"
"Don't jinx it," Moxxie hissed.
"Suck it up, Fatty." Loona gave him middle finger, much to Moxxie frustrated dismay.
Octavia tried to focus on the path ahead, but her mind was racing. Were these creatures native to Limbo? Did they have something to do with the Exorcist? With Gaap? The questions piled up, each more unsettling than the last. One thing was certain—the relative safety they'd hoped to find in these caves was an illusion. They weren't alone down here, and their observers seemed far from friendly.
The dripping of water continued, now seeming more ominous than before. And though they couldn't see them anymore, everyone knew the eyes were still there, watching, waiting. For what, none of them wanted to find out.
They pressed forward through the tunnels, their pace quick but cautious. Every so often, more of those ember-like eyes would appear in the darkness, always retreating just as quickly as they came. Each sighting sent a fresh wave of unease through the group.
"There," Millie suddenly whispered, pointing ahead. A faint glow, different from Octavia's magical light, beckoned from around a bend in the tunnel.
"Finally," Moxxie breathed, relief evident in his voice.
As they approached, the glow grew stronger, warm and inviting after the oppressive darkness of the tunnels. Unable to contain their eagerness, they hurried forward, rounding the bend to find—
...
A chamber?
↑ "The GreatHounds/Buzzards" - Suspense Theme
"Holy shit," Loona breathed, her usual composure cracking.
They had emerged into a vast chamber, but calling it merely a cave would be like calling a cathedral a room. The space soared upward, its ceiling lost in shadows despite the illumination from dozens of eternal flames set in ornate bronze braziers. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, depicting massive wolf-like figures engaged in hunts, battles, and rituals of moon worshipping.
"This is..." Octavia started, but found herself at a loss for words.
"A temple," Loona finished, her voice uncharacteristically reverent. She moved forward slowly, her eyes darting from one carving to another. "Creepy"
Moxxie and Millie exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable in this sacred space. Octavia, however, found herself drawn to the carvings, particularly one that showed Hellhounds. And where to start, really... most carving are very crude made, much diffrent than ancient Goetian style. From the first glance, they always have the same theme: The Moon. Every carving had the Hell's moon drawn above the Hellhounds, be it an hunt or battle.
And there is some major mural looking craving on the wall.
Author Note: Those who played THAT game, you recognize her. I genuinely love her design that I decided to base her as depiction of Proto-Hellhounds.
Octavia hummed, staring at her more than she really needed. What a beauty...savagery beauty but still she has to admire it. From Octavia can understand, It depicts an deity....or perhaps depiction Post-Fall Hounds, it's hard to tell. But it's some kind of Female Hellhound...if Octavia can really called her..an Hellhound.
Which makes wonder, WHO were the original Hounds and where they come. Theurgia never bothered to document Hounds, seeing them nothing but barbarians. Even Imps have rather documented chronicles in their acrhives, all the way to Imperious' Reign of Wrath's tribes...BUT here...it was a new discovery. Seriously, first the Goetian Tomb and now this...
Octavia really felt she is a fucking Lara Croft at this point.
"Loona, do you realize what this means? Hellhounds had—have—a culture. A rich one." She turned to Loona, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with academic excitement. "These aren't just drawings; they're a history, a mythology. Everything our books claimed about Hellhounds being... well, you know... it was all wrong."
Loona remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the towering figure of the wolf deity. Her ears were pinned back, her expression unreadable in the flickering light of the braziers. The silence stretched uncomfortably long for her. Loona felt weird...like...that Hellhound thing...judges her.
"Loona?" Octavia tried again, taking a step toward her friend.
The Hellhound suddenly shook her head, as if physically dispelling whatever thoughts had gripped her.
"It's bullshit. Nobody gives a fuck about this ancient crap." She muttered, her usual sneer returning to her face. She strode toward one of the pedestals, examining the chalice. "But this stuff? This we can actually use. Bet these would fetch a nice price in the Ring of Greed."
"What?" Moxxie's scandalized voice echoed through the chamber. "You can't be serious! This is clearly a sacred site—"
"Sacred to who, you specifically?" Loona shot back, already looting. "Some dead Hellhounds who probably ate each other for dinner? News flash, short stack—nobody gives a shit about Hellhound 'culture' or 'beliefs.' Not even Hellhounds."
"But..." Octavia gestured helplessly at the murals. "This is your heritage. Your history."
Loona barked out a harsh laugh. "My history started in a dumpster known as Adoption Center. Everything before that? Doesn't matter. Now are we gonna get rich off this stuff, or are we gonna stand around jerking off to some cave drawings?"
Moxxie looked like he was about to argue further, but Millie placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking her head slightly in clear disdain. If it was an Temple of Imperian Truth from Oracle of Imperia, Millie would not hesisated to kill Loona on spot...daddy was right that Hellhounds have no sense of appreciation.
Octavia found her eyes drawn back to the mural of the wolf deity. In the flickering light, the ancient Hellhound's eyes seemed to hold a profound sadness, as if mourning for the descendants who had forgotten her. Or perhaps, Octavia thought as she watched Loona stuff a small idol into her jacket, for those who wished to remember where they come from.
...
Fucking Ars Goetia.
As Loona prowled the chamber's perimeter, shoving smaller artifacts into her backpacks pockets, an unusual scent caught her attention. It was different from the musty, mineral smell of the cave—something ashen and ancient, like old bones left too long in the sun.
Her nose twitched, leading her to a shadowed alcove where a pile of carefully arranged stones stood sentinel. Unlike the rough cave walls, these rocks had been deliberately placed, forming a crude but purposeful monument. And there, emerging from the apex of the pile like an ancient standard, was a sword.
The weapon's handle jutted out at an angle, its metal somehow untarnished by time. As Loona drew closer, she could see intricate patterns worked into the blade's surface, reminiscent of the flowing designs that adorned the chamber walls. The sword's style was unlike anything she'd seen in Hell—the curved blade that was older than Goetia itself...and more primal.
"Unholy shit," She whispered, reaching for the handle. The grip felt oddly warm beneath her palm, as if the metal retained some heat.
"That's clearly a burial marker. We shouldn't!" Octavia called out, her voice tinged with alarm. But Loona had already pulled the sword free. The blade slid from the stones with surprising ease, accompanied by a soft whisper of metal against rock that seemed to echo longer than it should have.
The weapon was beautiful in a savage way. Inscriptions ran along the blade's length, characters in a script Loona didn't recognize but which made her eyes water slightly when she tried to focus on them.
1) ☾ Alfa Khaany khüsléer ene selem ursgag tal nutgiin shuvuudiin tsusiig sarny khüsliig doromjilson ☽
Despite not understanding the inscription, the craftsmanship was exquisite even to her untrained eye, she could tell this was something special.
"Oh, this'll get us a fortune in the Black Market, daddy dearest." Loona said, giving the sword an experimental swing. It moved through the air with impossible lightness, as if eager to taste violence again after its long rest. "Maybe even enough to buy our way out of this whole mess."
"That's a grave good," Octavia protested, though she kept her distance from both Loona and the disturbed burial pile. "It was left to honor the dead. We can't just—"
"The dead don't need swords, Tavi." Loona cut her off, but there was something forced in her casual tone. Her eyes kept being drawn to the inscriptions, and despite her bravado, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched by more than just her companions. But Loona shook her head, banishing the fanciful thoughts. " "Now let's see what else these fuckers left behind that we can actually use."
Octavia opened her beak, ready to make one last attempt at reasoning with Loona, when a sharp crack echoed through the chamber—unmistakably gunfire.
"Fuck!" Moxxie hissed, weapon already raised. "Think that Exorcist found us?"
Another shot rang out, closer this time, followed by what sounded like shouting, though the cave's acoustics made it impossible to discern words.
"Okay, stop looting this place and let's go!" Millie urged, already heading toward the chamber's far exit.
Here, Loona would had to stop, taking some stuff she can carry with her. They rushed through the twisting tunnels, the stolen sword clanking against Loona's hip as she ran. Octavia's magical light bobbed wildly, casting frantic shadows that seemed to chase them through the darkness. The gunshots grew more distant, but no one dared slow their pace.
After several minutes of harried progress, they paused in a slightly wider section of tunnel to catch their breath. In the relative quiet, broken only by their heavy breathing, Octavia found herself staring at the sword strapped to Loona's waist.
"Are you really okay with this?" she finally asked, unable to contain herself any longer. "Disturbing a burial site, stealing from your own ancestors—"
"Oh, here we fucking go. Little Miss Goetia, so concerned about 'cultural preservation' now?" Loona's head snapped around, red eyes narrowing as her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Remind me, Via, how many Hellhound artifacts are gathering dust in your Grandpa's private collection?"
"That's... that's different," Octavia stammered, caught off guard by the vehemence in Loona's response.
"Yeah, it is different. You get to play a noble with fancy toys while I had to dig through actual garbage to survive." Loona's fur bristled as she spoke. "Unlike you, I didn't grow up in a fucking palace. If you live in Imp City, you take what you can get."
"Well, if you hate Imp City so much, why don't you just leave?" Millie's voice cut in, sharper than usual. "Nobody's forcing you to stay there in our city."
A heavy silence fell over the group. Moxxie's eyes widened at his wife's words, while Octavia seemed to shrink into her feathers.
Loona's laugh was cold and humorless. "Right, because it's just that easy. Should I move to Lust? Maybe Greed? Oh wait, they don't let 'mutts' live there unless we're on a fucking leash." She took a step toward Millie, using her height to loom over the smaller imp. "Face it, imp, the only difference between us is that your kind learned to beg better."
"At least we built something!" Millie shot back, not backing down despite the size difference. "While your kind was running wild in the wilderness, we with Satan were building cities and conquering Inferno."
"Oh, don't act so high and mighty," Loona hissed, her hackles raised. Her hand had drifted to the hilt of the stolen sword, while Millie's fingers twitched near one of her many concealed weapons. "I've heard how you talk about Hellhounds when you think I'm not around. 'Wild animals,' 'rabid mongrels'—ring any bells, short stack?"
Millie's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Maybe if y'all acted more civilized, we wouldn't have to—"
"Both of you, stop it!" Octavia interjected, stepping between them. "This isn't helping anyone. I know you all stressed but THIS IS NOT THE TIME for this!"
"RUN, YOU MORON!"
A blood-curdling scream echoed through the tunnel, cutting off their argument. Before anyone could react, two figures came barreling around the corner— Prince Gaap, definitely everyone's favorite parasite and his bodyguard, Striker. Both were panting heavily, Gaap's usually immaculate suit was torn and singed, while Striker had a nasty gash across his forehead.
"T-there...I think they lost us." Striker managed between breaths, his voice somehow maintaining its mocking undertone despite his obvious exhaustion.
Gaap ignored him, his eyes scanning the group before him. When They landed on Octavia, they narrowed with barely contained fury.
"You!" Gaap snarled, pointing a clawed finger at her. "Where in the nine rings have you been? Do you have any idea what I've been through while you incompetents were dawdling in these caves?"
"Yeah, hello you too, Prince cloacawipe." Octavia bristled at the accusation. "We've been trying to find you ever since the crash!"
"Find me?!" Gaap's voice rose to a shriek. "BITCH, A FUCKING EXORCIST IS ON MY ASS AND NOW FUCKING HELLHOUNDS ARE HERE!"
*AWOOOOOOAARRRGH!*
As if in fate decided to kick Gaap in the ass, a low, rumbling growl echoed through the tunnel—deeper and more primal than any sound Hellhound could produce. The ember-like eyes they'd seen earlier began to appear in the darkness behind Gaap and Striker, but this time, they didn't retreat.
"Oh fuck me..." Millie whispered, previous animosity forgotten as she pressed closer to Moxxie.
"They've found us!" Gaap whimpered, attempting to hide his considerable bulk behind the much smaller Striker. "FUCKING FUCK-FUCK THEY FOUND US!"
The growling grew louder, and with it came the sound of heavy paws on stone—many, many paws. Loona's fingers tightened on the hilt of the stolen sword, and suddenly its weight felt far more significant.
The chamber suddenly blazed with light as dozens of braziers ignited simultaneously, revealing the true scale of their surroundings. What they had thought was just another tunnel opened into an immense central hall, its ceiling lost in darkness far above. Multiple levels of stone walkways and cliff-like outcroppings circled the walls, connected by crude bridges and roughly-hewn stairs.
And on every level, emerging from shadows and crevices, were Hellhounds.
But these weren't like any Hellhounds they'd seen before. Each wore a makeshift gas mask, the eye sockets glowing an eerie red that somehow seemed more primal than the natural crimson of modern Hellhound eyes. Their bodies were adorned with scraps of armor, metalwork that spoke of a forgotten craftsmanship. They moved with an unsettling synchronization, like a single organism with many bodies.
They leaped from level to level with inhuman grace, some dropping from heights that should have been fatal. Others emerged from hidden tunnels, wielding an assortment of weapons that looked cobbled together from salvage, yet hummed with an otherworldly energy. Several carried what appeared to be crude firearms, though the barrels glowed with a sickly blessed light that made Moxxie's eyes water.
"Doggystyle in the ass." Loona breathed, her earlier bravado evaporating as she pressed closer to the others.
The Hellhounds circled them like a feral pack, but there was an intelligence in their movements that spoke of calculated hunting rather than mindless aggression. Despite their obvious advantage in numbers, none attacked. They simply tightened their circle, their masked faces turning in perfect unison to track every movement of the intruders.
Gaap whimpered, trying to make himself as small as possible behind Striker, who had both guns drawn but seemed unsure where to aim in the face of so many targets. Octavia's magical light seemed pale and weak now compared to the flames that illuminated the chamber.
Before anyone could...do something, a voice rang out from above—deep, resonant, and carrying an authority that seemed to make the very air vibrate.
The assembled Hellhounds parted, their aggressive posturing giving way to something approaching reverence as a figure stepped forward on the upper level. As Octavia's eyes adjusted to the harsh lighting, she could make out the details of their apparent leader.
The female Hellhound who emerged was both familiar and utterly alien. Like Loona, she possessed the characteristic pointed, dog-like muzzle with wickedly sharp teeth and a dark grey nose. But there, the similarities largely ended. Her eyes were hidden behind a weathered blindfold, yet she moved with absolute certainty. Her fur was a striking white, with grey countershading that framed her face like war paint, and patches of deeper grey adorned her shoulders like epaulettes. Long, silver hair cascaded down her back, partially obscured by an elaborate headdress adorned with massive elk-like horns.
Her body was a canvas of ritual significance—bandages wrapped around her form in an intricate pattern, each strip covered in lunar symbols and text in what appeared to be ancient dialect. The bandages left little to the imagination, serving more as a ritual garment than actual clothing.
"Well," Striker drawled, somehow maintaining his cocky demeanor despite their dire situation, "Those bandages sure don't leave much to the imagination, do they?"
"Seriously? That's what you're focusing on right now?" Loona's eyebrow shot up at Striker's comment, a mix of disbelief and second-hand embarrassment crossing her features.
The Vicar's head turned sharply in their direction, and despite the blindfold, everyone felt her attention. Her nose twitched, scenting the air in short, decisive sniffs. She moved with predatory grace, her nose twitching as she assessed each member of Octavia's group even from up there. Though blindfolded, her movements were precise, deliberate—as if she could see more clearly through scent than others did with sight.
When her attention fell on Loona, something changed in her posture. Her head tilted, almost bird-like in its curiosity. Loona felt a strange sensation wash over her...an inexplicable familiarity that made her fur stand on end. The Vicar's scent carried notes of wet earth, ancient stone, and something else—something that tugged at memories Loona didn't even know she had.
For a moment, the tension seemed to shift, as if balanced on a knife's edge between recognition and rejection. Then the Vicar's expression transformed. Her lips pulled back in a savage snarl, revealing rows of teeth that seemed to multiply as her jaw distended in rage. Her delicate sniffing turned to deep, guttural growls that resonated through the chamber like approaching thunder.
"Maybe now would be a good time to give back their stuff?" Octavia suggested as she backed away, seeing that cultural exchange was...over.
"I think we're little late for that..." Loona return it back, finding herself also backing away.
One clawed finger thrust toward Loona, and when the Vicar spoke, it was in non simple satanic language—a single word that carried centuries of disgust and contempt of Hellhound kind:
2) "EVCİLLEŞTİRİLMİŞ!"
The masked Hellhounds surged forward as one, their previous restraint forgotten. Loona barely had time to draw the stolen sword before the first attacker reached her, claws scrabbling against modern clothing.
"Shit!" She yelped, swinging the blade in a desperate arc. To her surprise, the sword moved like it had a mind of its own, singing through the air with deadly precision.
Millie was already in motion, her smaller size an advantage as she ducked under lunging Hellhounds, her weapons finding weak spots in their makeshift armor. Moxxie's gunfire echoed through the chamber, the sound nearly drowned out by the cacophony of snarls and growls.
Octavia's magic flared, purple energy crackling between her feathers as she tried to create some space between them and their attackers. Striker had pushed Gaap behind a fallen column and was picking off attackers with practiced precision, though his usual smirk had been replaced by a grimace of concentration.
Above the melee, the Vicar raised her arms, the bandages around her body writhing like living things as she began to chant. The symbols on her wrappings glowed with an intense silver light, and the eternal flames in the braziers suddenly flared blue.
Claws screeched against stone as a masked Hellhound lunged, missing Loona by inches as she ducked and rolled. The stolen sword flashed, its edge finding flesh—the attacker yelped, more surprised than hurt, backing off only for two more to take its place.
"We need to move!" Striker's voice cut through the chaos, punctuated by the crack of his revolver. A Hellhound wielding a crackling energy spear staggered back, giving him the opening he needed to drag Gaap from his hiding spot.
"Which fucking way?" Moxxie provided covering fire, his precise shots forcing the attackers to dodge and weave.
"Any way that isn't here!" Loona snarled, the sword in her hands humming with an eagerness that made her stomach turn.
The wave of Hellhounds pressed in, their masked faces reflecting the blue flames that now danced wildly in the braziers. One got close enough to snap at Gaap's expensive suit—the demon yelped, stumbling backward into Striker.
"Octavia!" Loona called out, barely deflecting a rust-pitted blade with her stolen sword. "A little help here?"
"Everyone, get ready to run!"
Octavia's eyes blazed with purple fire. Her hands traced sigils in the air, each gesture leaving trails of violet energy. The symbols coalesced into a shimmering barrier just as three Hellhounds leaped toward the group. They bounced off the magical shield with yelps of surprise and frustration.
"Go!" Octavia commanded, sweat beading on her forehead as she maintained the barrier. "I'll be right behind you!"
They didn't need to be told twice. Striker half-dragged, half-carried Gaap toward the nearest exit, while Moxxie and Millie moved in practiced synchronization, covering each other as they retreated. Loona hesitated for a split second, looking back at Octavia.
"I said go!" Octavia repeated, her voice strained as masked figures hurled themselves against her magical shield. Finally, after so much these Hellhounds strike it, Octavia's barrier shattered with an audible crack. Not wasting time, she turned and ran, nearly loosing her balance as she sprinted to catch up with the others. Behind her, the hunting calls grew louder, more excited—the prey was running, and the hunt was on.
Back in the chamber, as her pack gave chase, the Vicar collapsed to her knees. Tears streaked down from beneath her blindfold as she clasped her hands in supplication.
3) "Beni affet, Vicara Shera." She whispered, her voice breaking. "Aramızda lekelenmiş çocuk yürüyor. Onu Uçan Kadın evcilleştirdi"
The braziers flickered, casting her shadow long and distorted against the ancient stones. In the darkness above, something seemed to shift, as if the very air was listening to her plea.
4) "Bana güç ve." The Vicar continued, her bandages writhing with agitation, " Calınanı geri almam için, kaybedileni geri getirmem için" Her voice dropped even lower, almost a growl. "Onlara gerçek bir Cehennem Tazısı olmanın ne demek olduğunu hatırlatmam için."
The chamber fell silent save for the crackling of flames and the Vicar's ragged breathing. No divine response came to her prayers—no sign, no omen, not even a shift in the eternal flames. The emptiness of the silence was deafening. Her composure finally shattered. The blindfold grew damp with tears as she raised her face to the darkness above, her voice rising in anguish:
5) "Büyük Uluma Ayı! Neden bizi terk ettin?" Her claws dug into the stone floor, leaving deep scratches. "Çocuklarının yok edilmesine ve köleleştirilmesine nasıl izin verirsin?"
Her body trembled, the bandages with their lunar symbols writhing as if in sympathy with her distress. When she spoke again, her voice was bitter with centuries of pain:
6) "Uçan-Kadın bizi avladı. Yavrularımızı çaldı." The Vicar's hands moved to her throat, as if fighting against a collar long since removed. "Onları 'evcilleştirdiler.' Onları... 'sevimli' yaptılar."
Memories flooded back—memories she'd tried to bury beneath centuries of ritual and duty. The stark white walls of adoption centers. The sickeningly sweet voices of demons cooing over "rescued" Hellhound pups. The way they'd speak of "breaking bad habits" and "proper training."
7) "Evlat edinme merkezleri..." The words came out as a broken whisper. Her composure crumbled entirely as she curled in on herself, shoulders shaking with sobs. "Kafesler. Tasmalar. Itaat."
The painted eyes of countless ancestors looked down from the chamber walls as their last true Vicar wept for what had been lost. For what had been taken. The mighty hunters and great nomads reduced to pets. The children of the moon transformed into accessories for the amusement of other demons.
Through her tears, she choked out one final, devastated scream:
8) "Beelzebub, Ay seni yesin!"
The empty chamber offered no answer. The eternal flames continued to burn, indifferent to her pain. And somewhere in the tunnels above, the stolen sword sang its song of forgotten glory, carried by hands that had never known what it meant to run wild beneath Hell's blood-red moon. And once more...the thousand years on the leash continues for Hellhound kind.
Octavia's lungs burned as she ran, her talons scraping against stone as she took another sharp turn. The howls of pursuit echoed through the tunnels, somehow seeming to come from every direction at once. She'd lost track of the others in the maze-like passages, each intersection forcing a split-second decision that pulled them further apart.
Pausing in an alcove, she pressed her back against the cold stone, trying to catch her breath. Her father's words from countless lessons echoed in her mind: "Composure, my owlette. Never loses your composure." Right now, she'd have given anything to have him here, to see him banish these Hounds with a wave of his hand.
"Some Goetia I turned out to be...fuck me." She muttered, breathing sharply as she gripped her chest, gathering her remaining magical energy for whatever came next.
A distant crash made her feathers stand on end. Then another, closer, accompanied by the sound of crumbling stone and... gunfire? Before she could process what that meant, the wall across from her exploded inward in a shower of rocks and dust. Through the debris flew a figure that seemed jarringly out of place in the ancient tunnels—an Exorcist, but one dressed like some kind of divine cowboy, complete with a wide-brimmed hat and boots with spurs. He hit the opposite wall with enough force to crack the stone, then slumped to the ground.
The Exorcist's head snapped up, his eyes fixing on Octavia immediately.
"Why hello there!" Rönne greeted Octavia just like that...despite having just been thrown through a wall, his voice was remarkably casual.
Octavia opened her beak to scream at him—though what exactly one says to a cowboy Exorcist who's just crashed through a wall, she wasn't sure...that's when an earthshaking roar cut her off.
Through the hole in the wall lumbered a behemoth of a Hellhound, easily twice the size of the Vortex. Its mask was a patchwork of metal and bone, with tubes and valves that hissed steam with each breath. In its massive hands, it wielded a hammer that looked like it had been crafted from an entire engine block.
"AWWOOOO!" The beast's voice was like gravel in a meat grinder.
The Exorcist Deadeye rolled smoothly to his feet, dust falling from his duster coat as he prepared himself. The Hellhound Juggernaut answered with action rather as well, bringing his massive hammer down in an arc that would have pulverized anything it hit.
Rönne moved with impossible speed, clearing the impact zone as the weapon cratered the floor. Taking the opportunity, he drew his revolver—a gleaming thing that hummed with blessed energy. The gun barked once, the sound oddly musical in the stone chamber. Hellhound head snapped back, a bloom of blood spraying from his mask. For a moment, the massive Hellhound swayed on his feet. Then, slowly, he toppled backward, his hammer slipping from lifeless fingers to crash against the stone floor.
Rönne twirled his revolver before holstering it, taking a deep breath and clutching his wound. He slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to his side where Nightbuckler had landed a glancing blow.
"I'm getting too old for this bullshit!" He muttered, yellow blood seeping between his fingers.
Octavia, still processing the whirlwind of violence she'd just witnessed, finally found her voice in all that matter.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT?!"
"Oh, that?" The Exorcist waved his free hand dismissively, somehow making the gesture look sardonic. "Just your Limbo variety Nightbuckler. Biggest sons of bitches the Buzzards ever bred. Makes your average Hellhound look like a..."
He trailed off as his gaze finally settled properly on Octavia, not forgetting...her. Octavia's hand moved to the hilt of her sword, her movements deliberate. Rönne's posture changed too, straightening despite his injury as his fingers ghosted over his blessed revolver.
They drew their weapons in perfect synchronization, the blessed revolver and Octavia's sword pointing at each other across the debris-strewn space.
"You really want to do this dance again, princess?" Rönne's spurs clinked as he shifted his stance. "Because I seem to recall our last tango ended with you hogtied and cursing up a storm that would make a succubus blush."
"I'm ready for you this time." Octavia's eyes narrowed, magic crackling between her feathers. "I will enjoy the brain damage I will do to you from me kicking your sanctimonious ass back to Heaven in pieces."
"Oh, aren't you a clever one. Still finding your feathers in places they've got no business being?" He tilted his head, the gesture somehow conveying amusement despite. "But sweetheart, you're in the enemy territory now. Limbo ain't exactly the palace grounds for you."
"Please," Octavia scoffed, though her grip on her sword remained steady. "I've seen scarier things in my father's garden than anything you could throw at me, you discount Halloween costume."
"Big talk from someone who's one bad day away from being stuffed and mounted over some Hellhound's fireplace." Rönne's smirk was genuine, if slightly strained by his injury.
"Big words from someone who's one good shot away from being demoted to a Dickmaster's minion."
"Touché" Rönne only said this as he removed safety revolver from blessed revolver, showing he won't hesitate.
They remained locked in their standoff, neither willing to make the first move, both acutely aware that the first strike would have to be the last. Before either could pull their trigger or make their move, a voice called out from the tunnel Rönne and the Nightbuckler had emerged from.
"Lady Octavia!"
"Olivia?" Octavia's eyes widened as a familiar figure stepped into view.
Indeed, there stood Olivia, looking somewhat disheveled but very much alive. Her usually impeccable lady-in-waiting attire was dusty and torn in places, but her bearing remained as dignified as ever. Before Rönne could react, Octavia had already lowered her weapon and rushed past him, wrapping Olivia in a tight embrace. The Exorcist, after a moment's consideration, lowered his revolver as well, though he kept it in hand.
"I thought... when the train crashed... I-" Octavia's voice was muffled against Olivia's shoulder.
"I know...I know, your highness. I'm just glad to see you safe." Olivia returned the embrace just as tightly. She pulled back slightly, giving Octavia a reassuring smile. "I have your offworldy friend to thank for that. The Buzzards would have ate me alive if he hadn't intervened,"
"Buzzards?" Octavia echoed as she turned back to the Exorcist, confusion evident on her face.
"Local flavor from the colonists." Rönne assumed she would not thank him, so he let it slide. "Those Hellhounds you've been tangling with? They call themselves "The Great Hounds". Real charming bunch, as I'm sure you've noticed." He shifted his weight, wincing slightly at his injury as his tone growing more serious. "They won't stop not until they've either killed us all or we manage to get the hell out of their territory."
"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting—" Octavia's eyes narrowed. Clearly seeing where this going in.
"Oh, I know how you feel about me and I don't care. But right now, we've got bigger problems than your...grudges." Rönne interrupted, he then gestured at the fallen Nightbuckler. "That was just the appetizer. The Buzzards are going to throw everything they've got at us. And while I'm sure you're just itching to see if you can stuff me head-first through window, I'd rather not end up as some Hellhound's chew toy."
Octavia looked between Rönne and Olivia, her expression a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Oliva instead gave a slow nod, suggesting to see the wisdom of that Exorcist. That allowed some assurances, hence she let out an exasperated sigh that somehow managed to sound both aristocratic and deeply annoyed.
"Fine then...but I still don't trust you, Exorcist. If you so much as think about going after Gaap, I'll personally ensure your next assignment is as a celestial paperweight."
Rönne opened his beak to respond, but a chorus of snarls and howls cut him off, echoing through the tunnels with growing intensity. The sound of heavy paws and scraping claws against stone grew closer with each passing second.
"Wunderbar... Heretical Hounds of Eden are about to turn this unholy union into an all-you-can-eat buffet." He checked his revolver again, grimacing
"What's wrong, holy roller? Scared of a few puppies? I thought Heaven's finest would be made of sterner stuff." Octavia stepped closer, looking at him with regal disdain.
"Says the girl who was hiding from in the train from me." Rönne somehow managed to convey a smirk. "Though I suppose that's what passes for tactical genius in Ars Goetia."
"Oh, I'm sorry, was that entrance really scared me?" Octavia's voice dripped with fake sympathy. "More like I was saying myself from not seeing your face and vomiting in the process."
"Jesus...ain't you a sunshines and butterflies?" Rönne had to admit she injured him...seriously, Jesus Christ.
A particularly loud howl, closer than the others, made them both tense. Olivia, behind them, could only shake her head as two of them continued their bickering, with the sounds of pursuit growing ever closer.
"Might I suggest you continue this conversation somewhere with fewer teeth and claws?" Olivia drawled.
"Actually, I was thinking of full on tactical retreat." He gestured down the tunnel with his revolver. "There's an old mining complex ahead with all tunnels go there. Leads straight to the surface."
"And you know this how exactly?" Octavia's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Oh you know, I'm a local tourist!" Rönne had enough of her at this point, deciding to just throw all of that Exorcist professionalism and just go full "I'm one of Adam's best girls, fight me!" behaviour that came from his sisters in Pride Legion. "When I don't kill Sinners, I come here every weekend to get eaten by Hellhounds. Halle-fucking-juah we say-THE HELL IS YOUR POINT!?"
"Ok, listen here you little-" Before Octavia could deliver what was undoubtedly going to be a scathing retort, a cacophony of howls erupted from the tunnel behind them. The guttural sounds of echoed off the stone walls.
"Great, they will be here any minute now!" Rönne's posture shifted instantly from sardonic to alert.
"Olivia, go! We'll hold them off!" Octavia's voice cracked like a whip as she drew her sword. The Andras' blade hummed with otherworldly energy, casting eerie shadows on the tunnel walls.
Rönne spun his revolver, the blessed weapon glowing with a light that seemed to push back the darkness. The air grew thick with the smell of brimstone and wet dog as massive, shadowy forms bounded toward them. Glowing eyes and gnashing teeth emerged from the darkness, accompanied by the screech of claws on stone.
"If we die here, I'm going to kill you." Octavia's grip tightened on her sword.
"Then direct these complaints to my superiors." Rönne drawled as he cocked his revolver.
The first Hellhound exploded from the darkness in a blur of teeth and claws. Octavia's blade flashed, a precise arc of silver that separated the beast's head from its shoulders. Black blood splattered against the stone as the corpse tumbled past them. Rönne's revolver sang out three times in rapid succession. Each shot found its mark with supernatural accuracy – throat, eye, heart. Three more Hellhounds collapsed in mid-leap, hitting the ground.
"Four down," Rönne called out, ejecting spent casings that clinked musically against the stone floor. "Only about a horde to go."
A particularly large Hellhound charged through its fallen packmates. Octavia ducked under its swinging claws and drove her sword up through its jaw.
"Make that five—watch your left!"
Rönne spun, his duster swirling dramatically as he fired point-blank into the face of a Hellhound that had tried to flank them.
"Much obliged"
More and more Hellhounds appeared, and the narrow tunnel erupted into chaos. The sound of gunfire mixed with the singing of Octavia's blade, creating a deadly duet that echoed through the passages. Behind them, Olivia's footsteps faded as she ran toward what they hoped was salvation, while the unlikely pair held the line against the teeth and fury of Limbo's most vicious predators. But for every Hellhound they dropped, two more seemed to take its place.
"We can't hold this position forever!" Octavia grunted, parrying a vicious swipe that would have taken her head off.
A massive paw swung through the space between them, forcing them to separate. The brief gap in their defense allowed more Hellhounds to pour into the tunnel, their bodies pressing forward with mindless aggression.
"Fall back!" Octavia commanded, sending a wave of magical energy that knocked the nearest beasts off their feet. "Unless you want to become kibble!"
"You tell me, birdy?!"
They retreated step by step, fighting for every inch. Rönne's shots grew more conservative, each bullet finding a vital point with lethal precision. Octavia's blade left trails of light in the air as she struck again and again, her composure replaced by grim determination.
The tunnel eventually opened into a vast cavern, the ceiling lost in darkness high above. A wooden bridge stretched across a seemingly bottomless chasm, its ancient planks groaning in the stale air. On the far side, barely visible in the gloom, stood Olivia.
"My lady, don't! The bridge won't hold!" Her voice echoed across the gap, tinged with desperation.
Octavia and Rönne backed away from the first planks, which creaked ominously under their weight. Behind them, the howls grew closer, accompanied by the sound of dozens of heavy paws.
"Well, this is less than ideal," Rönne observed, peering over the edge into the abyss below. A pebble knocked loose by his boot took several seconds to fade from hearing as it fell.
"Oh really? What gave it away? The rotting bridge or the horde of murderous Hellhounds?" Octavia's face was illuminated by the glow of her sword as she watched the tunnel mouth.
"No, your charming personality, actually!" Rönne gave her an insult as checked his revolver – only two bullets left. So he quickly reached for the few remaining bullets he had for spare. "So, any preferences? Death by falling or death by mauling?"
"Keep talking, and I'll throw you off myself," Octavia muttered, but there was almost a hint of amusement in her voice.
Despite Olivia's warning, there is nothing they can do but try with an death risk on their hands. They began their precarious crossing, the bridge swaying with each careful step. Another plank splintered beneath them as the bridge swayed dangerously. Rönne grabbed a fraying rope to steady himself, his face turning toward Octavia.
"This heap of kindling won't hold us both," He said, voice tight with unusual seriousness. "You need to go first."
"What's the catch, Exorcist?" Octavia's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident even as she steadied herself against the bridge's movement.
"There is no catch...other than you're thinner than me." Rönne's spurs clinked as he shifted his weight, causing another worrying creak from the bridge. His head tilted slightly toward Olivia on the far side. "Just make sure she gets home safe. That's all I'm asking."
For a moment, Octavia searched his face, as if trying to detect any hint of deception. Finally, she gave a sharp nod.
"Try not to die."
"Your concern is touching, truly." He then gestured for to her begin. "Go, now. I cover you."
Octavia began to move across the bridge, each step carefully chosen. Behind them, the first Hellhounds emerged onto the ledge, their red eyes fixed on their prey. Rönne's revolver spoke twice more, the blessed bullets finding their marks. Two Hellhounds tumbled into the abyss, their howls fading into the darkness. Despite this, more feral Hellhounds pressed forward.
"Come on...Come on." Octavia to be carefull as the best she can...but halfway across, disaster struck.
A rotted plank gave way beneath Octavia's talons with a sharp crack. She pitched sideways, a startled cry escaping her as she plummeted. At the last second, her hand shot out, catching the edge of the bridge. She dangled over the void.
"Octavia!" Olivia's scream echoed across the cavern.
Looking back at the situation, Rönne cursed at himself. "Oh you gott to be-GODDAMMIT!"
With no options and without hesitation, the Exorcist sprinted across the deteriorating bridge, planks snapping beneath his boots. He reached Octavia in seconds, grabbing her arm. With a grunt of effort, he hauled her up and practically threw her toward the far side of the bridge. Octavia stumbled but caught her balance, turning back just in time to see what Rönne didn't.
"Behind you!"
The warning came too late. Two Hellhounds launched themselves onto the bridge, their massive weight causing the ancient wood to groan in protest.
"Oh, Have mercy on me, Zadkiel!" Rönne cursed at himself as he spun, revolver raised to fire, but the two Hellhounds pounced at him, even though the bridge's supports finally gave way from their combined weight.
Time seemed to slow as the bridge collapsed. Rönne caught Octavia's wide-eyed gaze as he fell. Then he was gone, falling into the darkness with the Hellhounds, the sound of splintering wood and bestial howls echoing off the cavern walls until they faded into silence.
"Sweet...Spirits..." Octavia stood frozen at the edge of the chasm, staring into the abyss where the Exorcist had vanished. Olivia's arms wrapped around her, pulling her back from the edge.
"Octavia, W-we need to go...NOW!" Olivia tried to snap Octavia out.
The respite was brief. Arrows whistled through the air, embedding themselves in the rock near Octavia's head. A thrown spear also narrowly missed Olivia, clattering against the stone floor.
"Let's get out of here!" Octavia grabbed Olivia's arm, practically dragging her toward the tunnel entrance. More projectiles rained down, the Hellhounds howling in frustration at their escaping prey.
"The Exorcist... you think he-" As they ran, Olivia breathed through word.
"I don't know, Olivia" Octavia cut her off, her voice oddly quiet. "No time for that."
Just like that Exorcist said, the tunnel opened into what was clearly an abandoned mining operation. Rusty rail tracks snaked along the floor, disappearing into darker passages. Very old support beams groaned under the weight of centuries, and the remains of old mining equipment lay scattered about, covered in thick layers of dust.
But what caught their attention was the sound of combat echoing from a larger chamber ahead. They emerged into a vast excavation area. Mining platforms rose in tiers along the walls, connected by precarious catwalks. And there, engaged in desperate combat, were their companions.
Gaap's form was easy to spot, hiding himself. Striker moved like a lethal shadow, his bullets finding Hellhounds with surgical precision. Loona fought with feral grace, matching the Hellhounds' savagery with her own. But despite this... they were losing ground.
Moxxie was backing away from a particularly vicious Hellhound, one that had lost its mask, revealing a face twisted by rage. The imp fired his rifle, but the beast was too quick, batting the weapon away with a powerful swipe.
"Moxxie!" Millie's cry echoed through the chamber as she fought to reach him, but another Hellhound blocked her path.
Time seemed to slow as the maskless Hellhound pounced. Moxxie raised his arms in a futile defense, but the beast's jaws clamped down on his face. There was a sickening sound of tearing flesh and a muffled scream of agony.
Something in Millie snapped. With a roar that would have made a Satan himself proud, she vaulted over her opponent, blades flashing in the dim light. She fell upon the beast attacking Moxxie with unstoppable fury, her weapons finding every vulnerable spot until the Hellhound was little more than a twitching corpse.
Breathing her rage out, Millie didn't waste the time and cradled her husband's head, trying not to look at the ravaged mess of his face. Blood poured between her fingers as she tried to stem the flow.
"Moxxie! Baby, can you hear me?"
"M-Mills? What... what's happening? I can't... I can't see right..." Moxxie's eye fluttered open, glazed with pain and confusion.
Octavia and Olivia could only watch in horror as their companions regrouped around the fallen imp, the Hellhounds momentarily driven back but certainly not defeated. The snarls and howls echoing through the mining complex made it clear that their respite would be brief. They were trapped, one of their own was critically wounded, and their pursuers showed no signs of tiring. As Octavia looked at her battered allies, she couldn't help but think that losing an Exorcist might have been the least of their problems.
"Hey, mutts!"
Every head turned toward one of the upper tunnels. There stood Husk, his wings spread dramatically despite his disheveled appearance. The Hellhounds paused in their assault, momentarily confused by this new arrival. It allowed rest of Octavia's to scatter to cover in the meantime.
"You know what they say about dogs..." Husk's perpetual scowl deepened as he took a long swig from a bottle, then tossed it aside with a theatrical flourish. "But cats play smarter."
He raised his paw, signaling someone behind him. In the split second of confusion, a massive figure emerged from behind Husk – the towering form of that Imp Killbane with Shmucks holding ammo conteiners, hefting what looked like a small cannon. The blessed Bergmann MG 15nA gleamed with an unholy light, its barrel already beginning to spin.
"Have a Satan's special, you fuckers!" Killbane's booming voice was nearly drowned out as he opened fire.
The blessed machine gun roared to life, spewing a torrent of sanctified bullets that cut through the Hellhounds like a scythe through wheat. The beasts' normally resilient hides offered no protection against the blessed ammunition. Those caught in the direct line of fire were literally torn apart, their bodies hitting the ground. A rare grin spreading across Husk face as he watched the carnage below.
The surviving Hellhounds scrambled for cover, their earlier bloodlust replaced by genuine fear as more of their pack were shredded by the relentless barrage. The mining chamber, which moments ago had been a death trap for Octavia and her allies, was rapidly becoming a killing ground for their pursuers.
"Now that's what I call an entrance." Striker let out an appreciative whistle as he reloaded his own weapon.
As Killbane continued to lay down suppressing fire, Husk glided down to join the others, landing next to Octavia. His expression returned to its usual grumpy default as he surveyed the group, his eyes lingering on the grievously wounded Moxxie.
"You all look like shit," He observed eloquently.
"Husk," Octavia said, a mix of relief and disbelief in her voice. "How did you—"
A particularly loud burst of gunfire punctuated her words as Killbane adjusted his aim, cutting down a Hellhound that had tried to leap to a higher vantage point.
"Save the questions for when we're not surrounded by rabid dogs with a grudge. Killbane can't keep this up forever." As if to emphasize his point, the machine gun's fire rate began to stutter slightly, the blessed ammunition clearly running low. "Move your asses, now!"
Millie struggled to lift Moxxie, her husband's blood making her grip slippery. Without hesitation, Striker appeared at her side, helping to support Moxxie's limp form.
"I've got him, little lady. Just keep moving."
They made their way toward the extraction tunnel, with Kilbane providing covering fire as they retreated. Octavia and Olivia helped guide them, with Husk bringing up the rear, occasionally firing back with his own weapon. Killbane started backing up toward them, the Bergmann's fire becoming more sporadic as its ammunition dwindled.
"Almost out!" He called out, his massive frame barely fitting in the tunnel as he rejoined the group.
A particularly large Hellhound seized the moment when Killbane's gun clicked empty. It launched itself through the air, a crude spear clutched in its massive paw. Killbane turned, trying to use the now-useless machine gun as a shield, but he was too slow. The spear found a gap in his armor plating, driving deep into his side.
"KILLBANE!" Schmuck's anguished cry echoed off the tunnel walls as his comrade stumbled, the Hellhound still clinging to the spear embedded in his flesh.
Killbane grabbed the beast by its throat with one massive hand, his mask inches from its snarling face. With his last strength, he hurled the Hellhound back into its oncoming packmates, causing them to stumble over each other.
"Go... get out of here..." He managed to mutter it out...before dropping dead.
Husk's eyes darted between body of Killbane and the approaching Hellhounds, his expression grim. Then his gaze fell on something among the old mining equipment – several sticks of dynamite, ancient but still viable.
"Schmuck," Husk barked, already gathering the explosives. "Get the others out. I'll be right behind you."
"But Killbane—" Schmuck protested.
"Is already gone." Husk's voice was gruff but not unkind. "Now move!"
As the others retreated further down the tunnel, Husk worked quickly, setting up the dynamite around the support beams. The Hellhounds were getting closer, their howls echoing off the stone walls. Husk lit the fuse, then hesitated for just a moment, looking at Killbane's body.
"You did your Inferno proud, son. Rest in peace."
He spread his wings and launched himself up the tunnel as the fuse sparked and sizzled. The explosion was deafening in the confined space. The tunnel's ceiling came down in a cascade of rock and timber, sealing off the passage – and entombing Killbane with their pursuers.
As the dust settled, Husk landed among the others, his fur covered in rock dust and his expression even more sour than usual. Schmuck stepped forward, his usual bravado absent.
"Did he...?"
Husk just shook his head, opting to not continue. He then looked at the grievously wounded Moxxie. The silence that followed was broken only by the distant, muffled howls of frustrated Hellhounds and the quiet sobs of Millie as she cradled her husband's ruined face. His breathing came in sharp, irregular gasps, each one accompanied by a wet, rattling sound that made everyone's skin crawl.
"Stay with me, sweetie. Please... just stay with me." Millie cradled his head in her lap, her hands trembling as she tried to stem the blood flow with a piece of torn cloth. Striker knelt beside them, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by grim professionalism as he examined the wounds.
"Bastard got him good. Missed the jugular by inches, but..." He trailed off, meeting Millie's desperate gaze.
"What? But what?" Her voice cracked with fear.
"C-can't... feel my face..." Moxxie's words were slurred, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "Mills... are you... okay?"
"I'm right here, honey." Millie tried to keep her voice steady, but tears streamed down her face. "Don't try to talk."
Seeing him like that...reminded him of a fucking trainwreck that Battle of Elsenborn Ridge was,causing Husk to curse under his breath and pulling a flask from his vest.
"Here. Get him to drink this."
"Okay...why you-" Octavia's eyes widened in recognition, confused by Husk's reasoning.
"It's an whiskey, kid. Helps to ease the pain." Husk confirmed gruffly. "Been saving it for a real emergency. Figure this qualifies."
"He needs real medical attention, soon. Not some alcohol." Olivia remarked as she had torn strips from her dress, creating makeshift bandages to apply on Moxxie's face. She won't lie but...her Exorcist friend made her learn from him.
Despite the pain, Moxxie's breathing gradually became more regular, though still labored. His eye focused briefly on Millie all the time.
"Sorry... ruined beautiful man for you..." Moxxie tried to joke, only to cough more.
"Oh, you stupid, wonderful man." A sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped Millie. She leaned down to press her forehead against his, showering everything affection...and praying Oracle of Imperia he will be fine...
As Octavia found herself keeping watch at Moxxie, her nerves still on edge, the weight of their situation pressed down on her like a physical force. The Exorcist falling into the abyss. Killbane's sacrifice. Moxxie's mangled face. And Charlie...The Princess of Hell herself was still missing, possibly dead for all they knew. Some leader she was turning out to be....how many more would she fail before this was over?
Seems out of Goetia, only she had that thought as her unfortunate peer paced like a caged animal, his agitation growing with each step, coping in his own way.
"You know what? Gaap finally stopped as he glanced at the group like he is an boss to his workers. "This is madness. Absolute madness. All of this...and for what? Some cursed McGuffin belonging to Solomon?" His gaze then fixed on Loona, who sat curled in on herself, uncharacteristically quiet. She stared at Moxxie's prone form, her usual fierce demeanor replaced by something that looked unsettlingly like guilt.
"And you," Gaap continued, pointing at Loona. "This all started with you and that damned sword. If you hadn't—"
"It's my fault...I know." Loona's whisper was barely audible, but it cut through the tunnel like a knife.
Gaap seized on her admission like a shark scenting blood. "Finally, some honesty! Yes, it is your fault! Your reckless—"
"THAT'S ENOUGH! SHUT-UP, GAAP!"
Her voice was quiet but carried an edge sharp enough to draw blood. Something inside Octavia snapped that made her sound like that....the part of her that was purely her mother's daughter – regal, commanding, and utterly done with nonsense – surged to the forefront.
Gaap blinked, taken aback by her tone.
"You've done nothing but whine since we started this journey! Nothing but complain and point fingers while others bled and died. You should be thankful I didn't let that Exorcist have his way with you when he wanted to!"
She stepped closer to him, her height allowing her to look down at him with the full weight of her royal bearing. It made even Gaap to pull back a bit from a rabid owl that is Octavia right now.
"Everyone here is under my wing, Gaap. Everyone. We will all do our part to keep each other safe. Loona is not at fault – we are. In our desperation, we disturbed this place, awakened things that should have been left alone. If you want someone to blame, blame me. I led us here. But I don't give a shit what you think of me!"
The tunnel fell silent except for Moxxie's labored breathing and Gaap...was too scared to respond. Even Millie had paused in her ministrations to watch the confrontation. Only the barrier of rubble muffled the sounds of their pursuers, but they all could still hear occasional impacts as the Hellhounds tried to break through. Hearing this, Octavia immediately focused her attention on important stuff...Gaap is useless waste of time, anyway.
"We need to move. Can you guide us out of here?" Octavia turned to Husk, her voice steadier now.
Husk already finished that flask and nodded, then looked at Schmuck, who was still staring blankly at the rubble that entombed his friend. "Hey, kid. Killbane would want you moving, not moping. You up for it?"
Schmuck seemed to shake himself out of his daze, managing a weak nod. Striker with Millie carefully lifted Moxxie up. As the group began to move, Octavia paused beside Loona, offering her hand.
"You sure?" Loona asked, still rather...being not herself.
"Of course. What this owl would not do without her badass friend...and you might sell that sword later." Octavia ironically is the one who now pep-talking Loona to be brave and confident once more.
After a moment's hesitation, Loona took her hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. Gaap remained last, watching as the others moved ahead with disdain.
"This is all too much... " He sighed heavily, muttering under his breath, He glanced at Octavia's retreating form, a mix of frustration and grudging respect in his expression. "I suppose I shall follow your lead... for now."
As they made their way deeper into the tunnels, Octavia felt the mantle of leadership settle more firmly on her shoulders. She might doubt herself, but she couldn't afford loose more....not anymore. They would all get out of this together, or not at all. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if this was how her father felt all the time – the constant weight of others' lives in her hands, the knowledge that every decision could mean life or death. For the first time, she thought she might understand why Stolas was the way he was.
After what felt like hours of trudging through dark tunnels, Husk finally raised his paw.
"We're here. Entrance is just ahead."
A faint, colorless light seeped through cracks in what appeared to be an old mining elevator shaft. As they approached, the rusty doors groaned in protest as Husk forced them open. Octavia was the first to step out. She had to shield her eyes, momentarily blinded by the sudden shift from darkness to the dim, grey light of Limbo. As her vision adjusted, she felt her stomach drop.
...
Oh, Devil.
They stood on a cliff edge overlooking a vast expanse of Limbo's landscape, an endless sea of grey stretching as far as the eye could see. Broken buildings jutted out from the ashen ground like jagged teeth, their surfaces weathered and colorless. The sky above was a slate expanse, neither day nor night, just an oppressive greyness that seemed to press down on them.
The sheer scale of it made Octavia's feathers stand on end. Limbo wasn't just a ring - it was an impossibly huge prison of monotony and decay. The vastness of it all made her feel small, insignificant against the backdrop of this colorless hell.
One by one, the others emerged, each taking in the desolate landscape with varying degrees of shock and dismay. Even Gaap seemed momentarily lost for words.
"Well," Husk said gruffly, coming to stand beside her. "Welcome to the Limbo Wasteland, kid."
"It's... endless." Octavia whispered, her eyes scanning the horizon where grey met grey in an unbroken line.
And now...at last Limbo was open for them...
And yet...
Octavia had only thought in mind.
"What are we going to do?"
Notes:
Okay, in all seriousness. The top Chapter note was a joke that me and my friends had an idea that Emberlyn as Demon have the power of "deleting" demons out of existence, simply by screaming "You're not cannon!"...no comment if she will ever appear in my fic.
But other than that. We continue forward as I'm excited to show brand new characters, especially GOETIA ones in next two chapters. So stay tuned!
---------------
Language Translations in Chronological Order:1) "By the will of Alpha-Khan, let this sword spill the blood of the birds of the steppes who dared to offend the will of the moon" - (Hellhound Ancient Language [Actually Mongolian])
2) "DOMESTICATED!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
3) "Forgive me, Vicara Shera, I have failed you. Among us walks the tainted child. The domesticated by She-Who-Flies." - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
4) "Grant me the strength, to reclaim what was stolen. To restore what was lost. To remind them of what it truly means to be Hellhound" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
5) "Great Howling Moon! Why have you abandoned us? How can you allow your children to be destroyed and enslaved?" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
6) "She She-Who-Flies hunted us. Stole our pups. They 'domesticated' them. Made them... 'cute.'" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
7) "Adoption centers...Cages. Leashes. Obedience." - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
8) "May the Moon eat you, Beelzebub!" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])
Chapter 36: The Lost And Damned
Summary:
"The lyricism of marginality may find inspiration in the image of the outlaw, the great social nomad, who prowls on the confines of a docile, frightened order." ~ Michel Foucault
Chapter Text
October 4, 2025, AD (90 Days Before The Next Purge), 10:36 PM.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Somewhere in Outer Limbo Wasteland/Tommy's Drive-In Dinner/
Two Days...
Two Fucking Days...
Never I thought I'd be leading a group through this hellscape, yet here I am. The burden of leadership is crushing. Every decision I make could mean life or death for us all. How do Dad and Charlie do this so effortlessly?
Everyone's been supportive, even that lizard in his own way, but I can't shake this feeling of inadequacy. Moxxie's getting worse by the hour, and I'm terrified we won't reach Little Limbo in time. What if I'm leading us all to our doom?
I miss Dad so much. He'd know exactly what to do, what to say to keep everyone's spirits up. And Charlie... her optimism would be a beacon in this darkness. I wish they were here. I wish I could be half the leader they are.
But I can't let the others see my doubt. They're counting on me. Tomorrow, we make for Little Limbo. I have to believe we'll make it. I have to be strong, for all of us.
I just hope I'm making the right choices. Please, let us find safety soon.
Octavia closed her diary, her face a mixture of determination and vulnerability in the dim light of the abandoned diner. Siting on the crate, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the tomorrow...frankly Olivia's advice to write her own thoughts didn't help the slightest. Even now, she could not describe their situation in her own diary...
The past two days had been a grueling test of endurance, each step through the barren expanse of Limbo feeling like a small eternity. Her thoughts are only about Moxxie, his condition worsening with each passing hour. The fever that gripped him seemed to burn hotter. Even with Striker's Bombproof carrying the injured imp, their progress had been agonizingly slow. Every pained groan from Moxxie sent a fresh wave of guilt through Octavia's heart.
The group's supplies were dwindling rapidly as they went. Their frequent stops to scavenge for food, weapons, and scrap had yielded meager results at best. It won't until Husk noticed an abandoned diner in the desolate landscape of the Outer Wasteland. And now their ragtag group had found temporary refuge from the unforgiving terrain of Limbo. But Octavia knew it was only temporary. Tomorrow, they will have to reach Little Limbo and seek medical expert for Moxxie...otherwise...his fate shall be sealed.
Inside, the air hung heavy with a tension, exhaustion, and faint hope. The faded booths and cracked linoleum floor were illuminated by the soft glow of makeshift lanterns, casting long shadows that danced across the walls like restless spirits.
In one corner, Moxxie lay on a makeshift bed of tattered booth cushions, his labored breathing punctuating the relative quiet. Millie sat beside him, her face etched with worry as she gently dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth. The couple's usual banter was replaced by hushed whispers and tender gestures, clinging to each other...even if Moxxie is loosing his battle.
Loona prowled near the entrance, her keen senses alert for any sign of danger. Nearby, Striker cleaned Moxxie's rifle with methodical precision, his eyes occasionally darting to the hellhound, a silent acknowledgment of their shared vigilance in guard post.
Shmucks, the Militech mercenary, had positioned himself by a grimy window, his military training evident in the way he scanned the horizon. Despite being an stranger to them, his presence added a layer of professionalism to the otherwise motley crew. Still they way he looked at others shown he is still suffering from Killbane's death. Now he is completely silent, reclusive from others and just hopes to survive for another day.
Husk had claimed a spot behind the old counter, rummaging through dusty shelves in search of anything useful or, more likely in his ace, any overlooked bottles of alcohol. His grumbling provided a strangely comforting background noise. To Octavia, he is like an Grandpa model that she really never had...
As night fell outside, the diner became a small island of life in the vast, indifferent wasteland. The warm glow from within stood in stark contrast to the cold, unforgiving darkness beyond its walls. For this moment, at least, they had found a temporary haven - a brief respite before the challenges that awaited them on their journey to Little Limbo.
The rusty hinges of the utility room door groaned in protest as Olivia emerged, her arms carrying a battered metal bucket with an assortment of threadbare cloths draped over her forearm. Navigating trough, the cluttered floor, she paused briefly as she passed near Octavia, who sat hunched over her diary. Their eyes met, and Olivia offered a respectful nod, her beak curving into a small, reassuring smile.
Olivia then approached Moxxie's makeshift sickbed, the imp's labored breathing a harsh counterpoint to the diner's eerie quiet. Millie didn't dignify with any response. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her shoulders slumped under the weight of constant vigilance.
"Millie, my dear, you need to rest for tomorrow. I'll take over Mox care for now." Her words were accompanied by a gentle touch on Millie's shoulder, the contact conveying compassion and understanding.
"But-" Millie's grip on Moxxie's hand tightened, her knuckles whitening. She opened her mouth to protest, but Moxxie's raspy voice intercepted her words.
"She's right, honey," He managed, each word a visible effort. His face was pale and drawn, a sheen of sweat glistening on his feverish skin. Yet, even in his weakened state, a spark of hope shown in him. "I'll be fine. You need your strength. Seeing you suffering because of me...breaks my heart."
A moment of silent passed between the couple, volumes spoken in a single shared look. Finally, Millie nodded, her shoulders sagging in reluctant acceptance. She leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to Moxxie's burning forehead, her lips lingering as if trying to impart some of her own strength to him, not caring she will get infected by Moxxie's fever. At this point, it didn't really matter to her.
With visible effort, she tore herself away, casting one last worried glance over her shoulder as she retreated to her own makeshift bed in the basement.
"There...should be enough to combat fever." With a sigh, Olivia set down her burdens and began her ministrations with practiced efficiency. The water in the bucket reflected as she wrung out a fresh cloth, the excess water pattering softly as it fell. She placed the cool compress on Moxxie's forehead, eliciting a small sigh of relief from the imp.
"Thank you..." Moxxie weakly said.
"You're welcome. I must say, Mister Mox. I'm quite impressed by your resilience. You're handling it quite well." Olivia's voice took on a lighter tone, a hint of playful flirtation coloring her words. Her eyes, warm and appraising, roved over Moxxie's face.
"Yeah...I been here before." A weak smile tugged at Moxxie's lips, a ghost of his usual charm. "It reminds me of when I had Red Fever as a child," He began, his voice barely above a whisper. Olivia leaned in closer to hear, her feathers brushing softly against the edge of the makeshift bed. "My mother... she stayed with me for nearly 12 hours straight with not sleep. I can still remember the feeling of her cool hand on my forehead, the sound of her humming softly to keep me calm. Seeing her her strength... it was inspiring enough for me to fight the fever off."
"She must be proud..." Olivia murmured, her voice rich with admiration. Hearing about his mother made her eyes softened at his words, her ministrations becoming even gentler. "Seeing her son grown into such a handsome and strong imp."
A shadow passed over Moxxie's face, deepening the lines of pain and fatigue. His next words were so quiet that Olivia had to strain to hear them, even in the hushed diner.
"Yeah... she would have been."
Olivia's hand stilled on Moxxie's arm, a gesture of silent comfort. Moxxie's eyes, glazed with fever but still alert, met Olivia's gaze. His voice was weak but sincere as he spoke,
"I really appreciate you taking care of me, lady Olivia."
"It's my job, Mister Mox. Taking care of Octavia's friends is part of my duties, and I'm happy to do it." Olivia's beak curved into a gentle smile, her feathers rustling softly as she adjusted the compress on Moxxie's forehead. "Besides. It's not everyday that a young and cute bird lady is taking care of you, hmm?"
"I...don't disagree with that." Moxxie tried to find proper words, which made Olivia to grin even more, finding it adorable. Her comment made Moxxie to feel...funny, not to mention the blush. "It just I-I...Well Millie and I...well I can't-"
"I know, Moxxie. I know you love Millie and it was not my intention to break your bond with her." Olivia interrupted, showing no harm to him. A moment of comfortable silence passed between them before Olivia spoke again, her tone light and teasing. "I just find you attractive, that's all. Can't blame this bird women, am I right?"
"Oh?" Moxxie's brow furrowed slightly, curiosity piqued despite his exhaustion. "So...you like Imps?"
"Surprised?" Olivia chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, let's just say my experiences with imps have been... limited. Mostly based on stories from my university days. I had an Goetian classmate friend who let's just say had an...hyper active needs in her life sometimes. It so happens she was dating an imp and well...let's just that her remarks of "Imp Endurance" made me quite...curious about Imps. It's nice to meet one who...let's just say might prove her point." She ended with an wink.
"I... thank you for compliment...I think." A faint blush colored Moxxie's cheeks, partly from the fever and partly from Olivia's words. He then tries to desperately switch the topic...and probably understanding Blitzo more of his choices. "I've had my share of experiences too, you know. Before Millie, of course. But I've never really interacted much with Goetias outside of work or business."
"Is that so?" Olivia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Well, I suppose we're both learning new things about each other's kinds. I can say that Goetias can be quite complex, you know. We're not all prim and proper all the time."
Moxxie let out a weak laugh that turned into a cough. Olivia quickly helped him sit up, supporting his back as the fit subsided. As she eased him back down, Moxxie spoke again, his voice raspier than before.
"I'm beginning to see that. You're certainly different from what I expected too, Olivia. In a good way, I mean."
Olivia's expression softened, fondness crossing her features. "Well, I'm sure we both have plenty of misconceptions to clear up. Don't assume that all Goetias think Imps and Hellhounds are peasants. I for one adore them more. At least with them you can fun while with Goetias it's stuck-up dinners and tea parties."
"I don't think there is a lot off misconceptions I know regarding Goetia." Moxxie commented. "The way I saw it: dating an Goetia is like buying an weeding cake. It tastes decillions as heaven but expensive as fuck."
"True." Olivia smirked, finding rather interesting choice of compare. "Then again, you might see us as "expensive" but you also must know how to court one too."
"Court?" Moxxie repeated. "You mean to how to behave in the court?"
"No, silly. As in courting someone." Smirking at his little silliness regarding courtship, Olivia would straighten herself up, as to demonstrate some stuff. "Imagine yourself: you an young Goetia noble, courting an Goetian women, who is pleasing to look in the eye but can be demanding." Olivia purposely trailed her hand on her hair, as to showing him that she is an example of that entitled Goetia women. "Always remember first rule: give her gifts and shower her with attention when needed. After that, she won't resist you no more sooner or later."
Olivia then shifted once more, crossing her legs together. She got more invested to tell the full secret to Moxxie.
"And so, once you about to court her in bed, you're not going just grab her by waist and do you part, no. Instead, start with this." She starts by trailing her fingers to her neck. "Go behind her, press your body against hers and start with simple kisses on her neck, maybe brush your lips or beak against it, we especially love that feel." Olivia then trailed her hand to her chest, with hand brushing the feathers from neck all way down. "Now for the important: at this point, she would be hungrily making out with you, to satisfy her sexual desire. Make sure to make her beg for more. Bring your hands down to her chest, NEVER stopping the caressing motion stop while at it. And then-" Olivia then brings her hand down to her left breast, stopping there. "Squeeze them, massage them. Doesn't matter. Show her you WANT more than that."
"And then what?" Moxxie awkwardly asked as he looked at her like an Student to a teacher, though not sure if fever or mad blushing is what warms me up....Good thing Millie was asleep at this point.
"Foreplay, of course." Olivia casually said, freeing her breast from her own hand. "You both know you want each other so there should not be any walls between you two. Remove the stripes of her dress but do not undress her. Continue to please her while dress will fall slowly on it's own. Then you might remove her bra to enjoy her taste or she can return an favor, going on her knees. Doesn't matter really."
"I thought that Goetian breasts are just...plumps." Moxxie awkwardly said.
"I know what you think and let me be clear: Goetia Demons are avian-mammal antrhomorphs with ability to lay eggs. And as mammals, we can feed our nestlings with mammary glands..." Olivia then grins even more, pointing her finger at her breast. "So yeah, these two bad girls are not for the show, sweetheart."
Moxxie awkwardly gulped, she really doesn't help with him...at all.
"Anyway, and final important part in bed courtship: our tails. You see, our tails are very erogenous zone for us. Combine that with you caressing her butt, as you go "forward" to her, always remember to pinch or caress her tail in the intercourse at least once or twice. Doing that will make sure she will remember this private moment for awhile."
"And how do you end this entire...thing?"
"Why by common duty: you fuck her out until she scream your names to the rooftops. After that: you both are an happy couple or maybe even marriage down the line will happen." Oliva shrugged, being rather casual in here as really she can't say much. "Works for everyone, I guess."
"Interesting..." Moxxie murmured to himself, shifting awkwardly in his bed. "Did you say this...from experience of yours?"
"Nah, everything I told you was something Lady-In-Waiting like me were taught in Ars Goetia's Etiquette in the Court. I don't have to pretend that "Lady-In-Waiting" is just fancy name for the "Consort" or "Plaything" sometimes. If some high ranking Spirit of Goetia wanted an "oral" from her or his Lady-In-Waiting, she would had to comply, not to mention do it properly."
"And you okay with that?"
"It's not a prostitution of Lust Ring, sweetheart. I'm the "companion" of the Noble I'm assigned to, meaning I have to help her or him to relive stress sometimes when necessary. Plus, I'm not being paid for sexual intercourse, I'm being paid to be an helper of my lord or lady for 24/7."
"Well...you definitely helped me a bit here. I feel less suffering pain...and you gave me an...confused boner..." Moxxie again awkwardly chuckled before going silent. "I can't help it, really. It's...well you know."
Hearing this, Olivia would grin even more than that. She would gently crawled closer a bit to Moxxie, causing an imp to awkwardly shuffle a bit. Olivia at first would stare directly at his eyes, giving him an flirtatious smile that either screamed "I want you-NOW".
Moxxie won't lie to himself: If he was much younger and not sick nor married or... not stuck in middle of nowhere with others, he would not hesitate to rip Olivia's dress off at this very moment and see for himself why Blitzo got so deep with Stolas in the first place. But the only answer he got was with Olivia just bringing her talon to Moxxie's lip.
"Don't be surprised when you hear some Goetia slept with imp, Mr. Mox. We're quite curious when it come to..."unique" tastes." Olivia whispered as she trailed her finger to his chest, every word sent a hot breath that made Moxxie shiver from it. "Frankly, I would not mind to have an "cultural exchange" between you and I."
Perhaps on purpose, Olivia would then continue trailing her hand until she stopped near his pelvis. She then just moved her hand away from him, surprising Moxxie.
"But this Lady-In-Waiting has one recommendation. Ask Miss Millie to help with your...problem down there once you will get yourself healed. Now, try to get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."
Olivia would give one final wink before getting herself on the feet. Her teasing didn't stop here though, as she turned around, she then bend over to reach for the bucket of water and some used cloth, giving Moxxie an nice look of...her. Reaching for it and straightening up, she then kissed her hand and blew that kiss to Moxxie's direction before waving her fingers...and finally letting him rest from her torment as she walked away.
"Such a teaser..." Moxxie sighed, laying his head. And he could only think what he would have done if he was in Blitzo's position. Sometimes he is wondering if his boss got fucked by Stolas with his deal...or if he really got lucky more that he would have admitted to him.
As Olivia made her way back across the dimly lit diner, her heels clicking softly on the worn linoleum, she noticed Octavia watching her with amusement. The young owl demon had set aside her diary, her keen eyes following Olivia's movements.
"So, Olivia. It's really how you lift the moral up...with innuendos?" A smirk played at the corners of her beak, a welcome sight amidst the grim circumstances.
Olivia paused, turning to face her charge with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"My, my, Marquise Octavia. Are you feeling jealous? I didn't realize my charms were so irresistible to you as well." Olivia placed a hand on her hip, adopting a teasing tone. "After all, all you have to do is just command me...and I can do such...interesting techniques I know as your Lady-In-Waiting."
The lady-in-waiting's smirk widened as she watched a faint blush color Octavia's cheeks. Despite the exhaustion evident in the slump of her shoulders, Octavia's eyes sparkled with their usual sass.
"Uh-huh, In your dreams, Olivia," Octavia retorted, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a small smile.
"Don't worry, Your Highness. I assure you, I will find a way to please you...in my dreams, of course." Olivia chuckled softly, moving closer to Octavia and lowering her voice conspiratorially.
The two shared a quiet laugh, the moment of levity a despite their circumstances. As their laughter faded, Olivia's expression softened, concern replacing the teasing glint in her eyes. Fun and Games but Olivia knows when to pipe down her games.
"How are you holding up, Lady Octavia? Really?" She asked, her voice gentle and sincere.
"I'm... managing," Octavia's smile faltered slightly, the burden of leadership once again visible in the set of her shoulders. "It's not easy, but... I'm trying my best."
"You're doing wonderfully, all things considered. You will get through this." Olivia placed a comforting hand on Octavia's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Octavia nodded, drawing strength from Olivia's unwavering support. As the two settled into a comfortable silence, The diner fell into a comfortable lull, the ambient sounds of their makeshift camp creating a cocoon of relative safety around Octavia and Olivia. Octavia's eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of admiration, focused on her lady-in-waiting.
"Olivia," Octavia began, her voice soft but earnest, "how do you manage to stay so positive all the time? Even after... everything we've been through?"
Olivia's usual smile faltered for a moment, a shadow passing over her features. The memory of their capture by the Hellhounds flickered in her eyes, a trauma still raw and recent. She took a deep breath, composing herself before settling down next to Octavia on the worn booth seat.
"It's... not always easy," Olivia admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I suppose it's just who I am." A small, wistful smile tugged at her beak as she continued, "My father, Duke Focalor, always emphasized the importance of positivity. He'd say, 'Olivia, my dear, negativity in your mind will only make you worse at everything you do.' I've been groomed for this role since I was just an owlet. To be a 'service' lady, as they call it in Ars Goetia."
"Do you... resent your father for that? For deciding your path so early?" Octavia's brow furrowed slightly. She hoped Olivia didn't share the same burden that Octavia had in her life.
"Oh, no, quite the opposite actually!" Olivia's response was immediate, her eyes clearing as she focused on Octavia. "I love my father, even now. He's always been supportive and kind." Her smile grew warmer as she spoke of her family. "It's just... well, you know about the 'marriage requirement' in Goetian nobility. As the oldest, but not a direct heir, my path was pretty much set."
"So who is direct heir of Focalor?" Octavia echoed, her curiosity piqued.
"That would be my younger brother." Olivia nodded, a fond expression crossing her face. "I love him dearly, you know. In fact, much like my father did for me, I took on a caretaker role for my brother as well. It felt... natural, I suppose."
"So your positivity, your caretaking nature... it's not just training, is it? It's genuinely part of who you are." Octavia listened intently, a new understanding dawning in her eyes.
"I suppose you could say that." Olivia chuckled softly. "Don't get me wrong, the training was intense, and there were times I questioned my path. But at the end of the day, caring for others, being there for them... it gives me purpose. It makes me happy."
A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sounds of their sleeping companions and the occasional creak of the old diner. After a moment, Octavia's voice, tinged with a hint of melancholy, broke the quiet.
"You know... I've always kind of wanted a sibling," Octavia admitted, her gaze distant. "It was... lonely at times. Dad would play with me when he could, but it wasn't the same as having someone my own age around."
"I imagine it would be." Olivia's expression softened with understanding. "Is that... because of your parents' relationship?"
Octavia nodded, a rueful smile on her beak. "Yeah, though from what I heard, If I had been born male, Mom would have named me 'Octavian' instead. But I guess the Spirits of Ars Goetia had other plans." She let out a short, humorless laugh. "My spirit gave her an middle finger, I suppose."
"I understand," Olivia said gently. "Living without siblings can be difficult. It can make you quite introverted and... lonely." Her eyes held a depth of empathy as she looked at Octavia. "In my training, I was often with peers who were also future Lady-In-Waitings. We formed strong bonds. Saying goodbye when I turned 18 was... challenging." Her voice took on a warmer tone as she continued, "Nevertheless, I enjoyed serving Lady Phenex, and I'm enjoying serving you, Octavia. Despite how... adventurous it's turned out to be."
"And I appreciate that, Olivia. Truly." Octavia's eyes met Olivia's, gratitude shining in them. However, there was still concern lingering about earlier conversation. "I just hope...you're comfortable serving me I... overheard your conversation with Moxxie earlier. About 'lady-in-waiting' being known as 'service lady' in a... quite literal way."
Olivia's eyes widened slightly, a faint blush coloring her feathers. Before she could respond, Octavia hurried on, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I want you to know that I would never, ever expect that from you, Olivia. Never. You're my friend, not just my lady-in-waiting."
Olivia's eyes softened with understanding, but her neutral beak would turn into an grin, as an idea got to her.
"Well...what if I'm not against it, Octavia?"
That caught Octavia off-guard, slowly turning her head to Olivia.
"Come again?"
"You heard me." Olivia again grinned even more, teasing. "You say that you would never, ever expect that from me...yet have you wondered that maybe...maybe this "Lady-In-Waiting" does not mind it, maybe even she wants to get know her...lady much-much closer, hm?"
Octavia blinked couple of times, confused as heaven and...not believing that Olivia just...so casual about offering...wait, a minute.
"Are you fucking with me right now, Oli?!" Octavia slightly raised her tone, not enough to disturb others who are sleeping.
"Language, your highness." Olivia showed her palm, trying to hide her smile as she continued with her performance. "The proper way is to say "Are you performing an sexual intercourse with me at this very moment, Lady Olivia?"
"Oli..." Octavia warned, not enjoying it.
"Alright-alright, I will stop" Olivia finally could not held her smile and just let it side. "But in all seriousness, you're saying like I'm an hostage of yours. Just because Lady-In-Waiting like me can offer pleasure doesn't mean I being raped by you. It's mutual pleasure, after all."
"That doesn't mean I have the right to just demand you to fuck me, Oli." Octavia said it plainly.
"You never demand from me. You could just ask, that's all." Olivia shrugged, seeing no problem with that.
"Oli..." Octavia again reminded of here.
Olivia sighed, seeing the problem. But she understands where Octavia comes from and it's not like she really can blame her. Olivia was born with huge confidence, to the point she sees nothing wrong with sex, either casual and committed.
"Sorry for pushing you, Octavia." Olivia's eyes softened with understanding as she gently squeezed Octavia's hand. "At the end of day, I want you to know that I'm here for you, in whatever capacity you need. As your lady-in-waiting and, more importantly, as your friend."
"I... thank you, Olivia. But I'm not sure how to... I mean, I've always been..." Octavia's tension visibly eased, but a hint of uncertainty remained in her eyes.
"Shy? Reclusive?" Olivia finished for her, her voice gentle and free of judgment. "It's okay. Opening up doesn't come naturally to everyone, especially given your upbringing."
"Yeah, I guess I've never been great at putting myself out there or expressing... well, anything really." Octavia nodded, a rueful smile on her beak.
Olivia leaned in slightly, her voice warm and encouraging. "That's something we can work on together, if you'd like. Being more open doesn't mean changing who you are. It's about feeling comfortable expressing your thoughts and feelings."
"That sounds... scary, actually." Octavia's brow furrowed slightly.
"It can be," Olivia admitted. "But it gets easier with practice. And remember, I'll be here to support you every step of the way. In fact," she added with a gentle smile, "if you ever plan to marry, I'd be more than happy to support you and your partner in any way I can. A lady-in-waiting can be quite helpful in maintaining a harmonious marriage."
Octavia let out a short, sardonic laugh. "Me? Marry? That'll happen right after the End of Times, which is... never." Her tone was light, but there was a hint of something deeper beneath the surface – perhaps resignation or uncertainty. Curious, Octavia turned the question back to her friend. "What about you, Olivia? Do you have any plans to tie the knot?"
"I'm open-minded about it, to be honest. But at the moment, there isn't anyone I'm committed to." A small sigh escaped her. "Given my social standing, it's quite possible my father will find someone for me to marry for political reasons."
Octavia's brow furrowed slightly. "Does that... bother you? The idea of a political marriage, I mean."
Olivia shrugged, a wry smile on her beak. "It's something I've grown up expecting. But who knows? Maybe I'll surprise everyone and fall madly in love before that happens." She winked playfully at Octavia.
"Well," Octavia said, her voice warm with affection, "Whoever ends up with you will be incredibly lucky. You're amazing, Olivia. Don't let others to make you doubt."
A faint blush colored Olivia's feathers. "Thank you, Octavia. That means a lot coming from you."
The two shared a moment of comfortable silence, the weight of societal expectations and uncertain futures hanging between them. But in that moment, they found solace in their friendship – a bond that transcended duty and circumstance.
The moment was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Husk's gruff figure emerged from the shadows, his wings slightly ruffled and expression grim. He cleared his throat, catching both owls' attention.
"Hey, kid. Mind if I borrow ya for a minute?" Husk's eyes shifted to Olivia briefly. "Alone?"
Olivia caught the hint immediately, rising gracefully from her seat. "Of course. I should check on Shmucks anyway." Olivia gave Octavia's shoulder a gentle squeeze before departing, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she disappeared into the dimness of the diner.
Once Olivia was out of earshot, Husk slumped into the vacant seat, his weathered face looking even more haggard. He pulled out his flask, took a quick swig, and offered it to Octavia. When she declined with a slight shake of her head, he pocketed it with a shrug.
"What's wrong?" Octavia asked, though the sinking feeling in her gut told her she already knew.
"We're running on fumes, kid." Husk ran a paw through his fur, his ears flattening slightly. "Did an inventory check - we've got barely enough supplies to last through breakfast tomorrow. No medicine, low on water, and food's almost gone." He paused, his tail twitching anxiously. "We're gonna need to do a supply run before we head out."
"We can't afford any more delays," Octavia hissed as her hands clenched into fists, casting a worried glance toward Moxxie's makeshift bed. "Every hour we waste, his condition gets worse. You've seen him, Husk."
"Yeah, I have," Husk growled softly, his own eyes following her gaze. "But we ain't gonna do him any favors if we all collapse from hunger on the way to Little Limbo. Can't carry an injured imp if we're too weak to walk ourselves."
"There has to be something we can do," Octavia insisted, her voice taking on a desperate edge. "Maybe if we ration what's left-"
"Already stretched as thin as we can go," Husk cut her off, though his tone was gentle. "Look, kid, I know this ain't what you wanna hear, but sometimes being a leader means making the hard calls. We need supplies, and that means we need to scavenge before we move out."
Octavia slumped back in her seat, the weight of the decision pressing down on her shoulders. She could feel tears of frustration threatening to form, but she blinked them back. Leaders don't cry, she reminded herself. Husk's expression softened, and for a moment, the gruff exterior gave way to something more paternal.
"Hey," he said, reaching across to pat her hand awkwardly. "Moxxie's a tough little shit. Tougher than he looks. He'll hold on."
"You think so?"
"Kid, I've seen that imp survive things that would've killed demons twice his size. Plus," Husk added with a rare half-smile, "He's got something worth fighting for. Sometimes that's all you need."
Octavia nodded slowly, drawing in a deep breath. "So what do we do?"
"First light tomorrow, we send out a scavenging party. Quick and quiet. In and out before anything nasty wakes up. Should we do, then we move out for Little Limbo. If not then we will have delay our travel." Husk's voice took on a more business like tone. "It's not ideal, but it's what we've got."
"Okay," Octavia agreed, straightening her posture slightly. "Okay. We'll make it work. We have to."
"Now try to get some rest. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day." Husk nodded approvingly, seeing the steel return to her spine.
With a final nod, he shuffled back to his post, leaving Octavia alone with her thoughts and the weight of tomorrow's challenges. She remained seated for a moment, the weight of their conversation pressing down on her like a physical force. With a deep sigh, she pushed herself up from the booth, her legs carrying her almost unconsciously toward the diner's entrance.
"Going somewhere?" Striker's voice drifted from his post near the window.
"Just... need some air," Octavia muttered, not bothering to look his way. "Won't go far."
The cool night air hit her face as she stepped outside, bringing temporary relief to her feverish thoughts. The wasteland stretched out before her, an endless expanse of desolation under the grey sky. But she wasn't alone in seeking solitude.
Loona stood a few yards away, her back against the diner's weathered wall. A thin trail of smoke curled up from the cigarette between her fingers, dancing in the ethereal light of Hell's eternal twilight. Her silhouette cut a striking figure against the backdrop of destruction - proud, defiant, yet somehow vulnerable.
"Since when do you have an pack of cigarettes?" Octavia asked, approaching the hellhound. Her eyes fixed on the cigarette, watching as Loona took another long drag.
"Found a pack in that scorched building we passed earlier. Still sealed." Loona exhaled slowly, the smoke creating a hazy veil between them. She tapped the cigarette, watching as ash fell to the ground. "Amazing what survives here, huh?"
An awkward silence settled between them, filled only by the soft crackle of burning tobacco and the distant howl of wind across the wasteland. Octavia shifted her weight, her eyes still fixed on the glowing ember at the cigarette's tip.
"Can I..." Octavia hesitated, then pushed forward. "Can I have one?"
Loona's eyebrows shot up, a hint of amusement crossing her features. "You know these things'll kill you, right?" She pulled the pack from her jacket pocket, turning it over in her hands. "Bad for your health, Tavi."
"Yeah?" Octavia's voice came out harder than she intended, brittle with stress and exhaustion. "Well, so is watching someone die slowly while you can't do a damn thing about it." She gestured vaguely toward the diner where Moxxie lay fighting his fever. "So is leading people through this fucking wasteland with no idea if you're taking them to safety or their deaths. So don't give me that "health" bullshit. I'm enough stressed as it."
Loona studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she pulled a cigarette from the pack and held it out. As Octavia took it, Loona leaned forward, touching the tip of her own cigarette to Octavia's, waiting until it caught. Octavia inhaled awkwardly, immediately breaking into a coughing fit that made Loona snort.
"Easy there, princess," Loona said, her tone softer than usual. "You don't have to prove anything here."
"Don't call me that," Octavia managed between coughs, but there was no real anger in her voice. Just weariness. "Not you too."
"Fine," Loona conceded, turning to look out at the wasteland. "Tavi, then."
They stood in companionable silence, sharing the space and the moment. The smoke burned Octavia's throat, but she welcomed the sensation. It was something real, something present, something she could feel besides the constant gnawing worry and fear.
"We're really fucked, aren't we?" Octavia finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Loona took another long drag before responding. "Probably," she admitted. Then, after a pause, "But hey, at least we're fucked together as the old saying goes."
"That's... surprisingly comforting, actually." A startled laugh escaped Octavia, genuine despite its bitter edge.
"Yeah, well," Loona shrugged, but a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "It is what it is and all that shit."
"You sound like Husk," Octavia noted, taking another careful pull from her cigarette.
"Fuck you too," Loona replied, but there was no heat in it. Just the comfortable banter of two people finding moments of normalcy in an abnormal Inferno.
They continued smoking in silence, watching as the wasteland stretched endlessly before them. Each lost in their own thoughts, yet somehow less alone than they had been before. The weight of leadership still pressed down on Octavia's shoulders, but for just a moment, shared between cigarettes and unspoken understanding, it felt a little lighter.
Loona flicked her cigarette, watching the embers scatter in the wind. "How's he holding up?" Her voice remained casual, but her ears twitched slightly – a subtle tell.
"Stable, for now," Octavia replied, running a hand through her feathers. "But we've got bigger problems. Husk just told me we're almost out of supplies. Water, food, medicine – everything." She let out a bitter laugh. "Can't even make it to Little Limbo without another supply run."
"Fuck." Loona's claws dug into her palm, her cigarette forgotten between her fingers. "If I hadn't grabbed that fucking sword from the lair..." She trailed off, her eyes fixed on some distant point in the wasteland. "Should've known better than to take anything from that place."
"Don't." Octavia turned to face her companion, studying the tension in Loona's shoulders. "We both know those Hellhounds wouldn't have just let us walk away. They were hunting us from the start." She took another drag, the smoke burning her throat. "This whole mission has been cursed from the beginning. One disaster after another."
"Yeah, well," Loona's tail lashed once, betraying her agitation. "Doesn't make it any better, does it? Now we're stuck here, fatty's fucked up, and we're running on empty." She crushed her cigarette under her heel with more force than necessary. "Some bounty hunting this turned out to be."
"We're still alive," Octavia countered softly. "That's something, at least...as Dad used to say."
"For now. Tomorrow might be a different story." Loona let out a short, harsh bark of laughter. She pulled out another cigarette, her hands steady despite the edge in her voice. "Especially if I have to go scavenging in this shithole."
"So you volunteer?"
"Someone will have to drag us from my own mess so...yeah, I guess. I'll go on the supply run tomorrow," Loona said abruptly, breaking the silence. She lit her fresh cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating her features. "Might find something useful. Pain meds, antibiotics – anything to help the little imp stop looking like death warmed over."
"You're worried about him, aren't you?" Octavia tilted her head, studying Loona's profile in the dim light.
Loona's ear twitched irritably, her tail going still. "I just..." She took a long drag, buying time. "I don't want him to die, okay? Blitzo would never..." She stopped, swallowed hard. "Look, I already fucked up enough getting us into this mess. Don't need his death on my conscience too."
"Aren't we all, huh?" Octavia saw the reason. It's respectable.
"My shift's starting soon anyway," Loona continued, straightening up from the wall. "You should get some sleep, Tavi. Looking like shit isn't just my aesthetic, you know."
A tired smile tugged at Octavia's beak. "Thanks for the concern, but..." She glanced around the desolate landscape. "Has anyone seen Prince Gaap? The Hellhounds didn't...?" She left the question hanging.
"Oh, His Royal Pain in the Ass?" Loona snorted, gesturing toward a crumbling structure across the dusty road. "Been skulking around that wreck for hours. Checked on him earlier – just got a death glare for my trouble." She flicked her cigarette away. "Real charming guy you've got there."
Octavia's features hardened. "Right. Guess I better go see what's wrong with that pathetic piece of shit." She pushed off from the wall, straightening herself up "Can't have him throwing a tantrum on top of everything else."
"Want backup?" Loona offered, her claws flexing slightly.
"No," Octavia sighed, already walking toward the ruined building. "Some royal matters are better handled alone. Even if the royal in question is being a complete ass."
"Your funeral," Loona called after her, but her eyes tracked Octavia's movement across the open space, alert for any signs of danger. "Just... watch yourself, okay?"
Octavia raised a hand in acknowledgment without looking back, her silhouette growing dimmer as she approached the ruins where her...parasite brooded in solitude. The ruined building loomed before her, its broken walls jutting against the crimson sky like rotting teeth.
Inside, Prince Gaap sat amid the debris, methodically tossing small rocks against the far wall. The steady tink-tink-tink of stone against concrete filled the space, a metronome of boredom and spite. His eyes flicked toward her as she entered, narrowing slightly before returning to his task. His only acknowledgment was a quiet scowl to himself, shoulders tensing beneath his tattered finery.
"Having fun there?" Octavia's voice dripped with mockery. "What is this, your private little corner to jerk off and sulk?"
Gaap's hand stilled, the last rock held tight in his grip. He rose slowly, dust falling from his clothes like dead skin.
"What do you want, Octavia?" His voice was carefully controlled, almost diplomatic, but the edge beneath it was razor-sharp.
"Oh, now you want to talk?" She stepped further into the ruins, her boots crunching on broken glass. "Funny how that works. Spend entire fight hiding like a coward, but the moment I show up—"
"Your behavior," He cut her off, each word precisely measured, "is becoming rather tiresome."
"My behavior? Ooooh, That's rich coming from you." A harsh laugh escaped her beak. She advanced on him, going for secound round. "I don't repeat myself to entitled little shits like you, Gaap. All you've done since this whole thing started is blame everyone else for your problems."
"Marquise Octa—" There was a warning in his tone now.
"No," she pressed on, gesturing sharply at the wasteland beyond the broken walls. "Look around you! We're stuck in this hellhole, Moxxie's dying, we're running out of supplies, and all you can do is sit here and throw fucking rocks at a wall because, what? Things aren't going your way? Because your perfect little trip got fucked up?"
"You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly," Octavia spat. "I understand that you're a spoiled, pathetic excuse for a prince who can't handle it when the world doesn't bow to his every whim. Well, guess what? This is reality, Your Highness. It's ugly and it's messy and it doesn't give a shit about your hurt feelings!"
"SHUT UP!" Gaap's roar echoed through the ruins, his composed facade finally shattering. His eyes blazed with hellfire, fists clenched at his sides.
"Oh?" Octavia's beak curved into a cruel smile. "Look who finally grew a spine. Did you find it buried under all that self-pity?"
Gaap advanced on her, his usual aristocratic grace replaced by barely contained fury. "You have no idea what it's like!" His voice cracked with desperation. "That thing out there – that Exorcist – it's hunting me. ME! There's a mark of death painted on my back, and every second we waste in this wasteland brings it closer!"
"Karma's a real bitch, isn't it?" Octavia's words cut like sharpened steel. "Not so fun when you're the one marked for death, huh? Ask my dad: did it feel him this scary when you tried to have my parents executed? When you manipulated the Electors into voting for their deaths?" Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
Gaap let out a bark of bitter laughter. "You stupid, naive bitch. You think I gave a shit about your parents' petty feud?" He gestured dismissively, lips curled in disgust. "A pile of Hellhound shit is more interesting than watching your mom and dad screaming at each other."
"FUCK YOU, CLOACA!" Octavia screamed, her composed demeanor finally cracking completely.
"FUCK YOU TOO!" Gaap roared back, his voice raw with rage and fear.
The silence that followed their screams was deafening, broken only by their ragged breathing and the distant howl of wasteland winds. Gaap turned abruptly, his boot connecting with a decrepit table nearby. The rotting wood splintered easily, scattering across the floor like broken promises.
"Breathe in... breathe out..." he muttered to himself, shoulders rising and falling with each controlled breath. Then, barely audible: "Screw you, dad."
He went still for a moment, as if the words had surprised even him. When he turned back to face Octavia, something had shifted in his demeanor. The rage had cooled to something harder, more controlled, but his eyes held a weariness that hadn't been there before.
"You want to know the truth about Lemegeton? Fine then!" His voice was unnaturally calm now, though an edge still lurked beneath the surface. "It wasn't my idea. Any of it." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, letting out a hollow laugh. "I was just following orders. Like a good little prince, doing exactly what daddy dearest commanded."
He spat the last words like they were poison, his carefully maintained composure cracking just enough to reveal the bitterness underneath. Octavia stared at him, her anger momentarily derailed by his words. A bitter laugh escaped her beak, sharp and cutting.
"Orders?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't try to play victim now, Gaap. You nearly had my parents executed, and your defense is 'daddy made me do it'?"
"Believe whatever you want," Gaap replied, his voice still maintaining that unsettling calm. "But tell me something, princess – you of all people should understand what it means to have a powerful father. To live under their shadow, their expectations." His lips curved into a humourless smile. "Their absolute authority."
"Don't you dare compare your situation to mine. My father—" Octavia's hands clenching into fists.
"Your father lets you rebel," Gaap cut in, his voice taking on a bitter edge. "Lets you throw tantrums, bitch about him, run away, make your own choices. Even now, you're out here playing hero with a bunch of imps and a hellhound." He gestured at the wasteland beyond the ruins. "Tell me, Octavia, what do you think would happen if I tried something like that?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications. Octavia felt her rage falter, if only slightly, as unwanted understanding tried to creep in. But she pushed it away, clinging to her anger like a shield.
"That still doesn't excuse—"
"No, it doesn't," Gaap agreed, surprising her. "But it explains it. Whether you want to hear it or not!"
They stood in tense silence, the weight of family legacies and royal expectations pressing down on them both. For a brief moment, Octavia saw something familiar in Gaap's eyes – a reflection of her own struggles with destiny and duty, twisted through a darker lens.
And she hated it.
"Why should I trust you?" Octavia's voice cut through the tension. "All you've done is run from fights. Hide in corners. Let others take the fall."
A low chuckle escaped Gaap's throat, surprising them both. He straightened his posture, something calculating replacing the earlier vulnerability in his eyes.
"You can't...and I don't expect you to." His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "You see, there's a tradition among Goetian princes – we don't fight. Not directly." He gestured vaguely at himself. "I respect that tradition... unlike some members of our illustrious nobility."
Octavia watched him warily as he began to pace, his movements taking on that familiar aristocratic grace once more.
"But you," He continued, studying her with newfound interest, "You've surprised me, I'll admit that. I was wrong about you before." He stopped pacing, turning to face her fully. "Back at Lemegeton, I saw what I expected to see – a spoiled daddy's girl who fell apart the moment her precious father wasn't there to hold her hand."
"Watch it," Octavia snapped. "I am my own Goetia. My father doesn't control my decisions – I choose my own path. Everything I've done out here? That was me. Not my family name, not my father's influence. Me. And my fist to your face will MY doing."
"And that's precisely my point," Gaap said, raising a hand in a placating gesture...and ignoring that insult. "You've proven yourself capable. More than capable. Which is why I'm proposing something... practical."
He took a careful step forward, maintaining enough distance to not appear threatening. "A non-aggression pact. A partnership, even. Between you and me." His eyes gleamed with calculated interest. "No family legacies, no ancient feuds. Just two Goetias who might find mutual benefit in cooperation."
"Making a deal with you?" Octavia scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "I might as well volunteer for a torture session. At least then I'd know what I'm getting into."
"Then allow me to sweeten the pot with some... information." Gaap's tone shifted, taking on the measured cadence of a practiced diplomat. "As I was saying, Duke Zepar – my father – was the architect behind everything that happened in Lemegeton. Being Paimon's firstborn comes with certain... expectations." His lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Ambition runs in the family, you might say."
"No shit" Octavia narrowed her eyes, not trusting a word.
Gaap began to pace again, each step deliberate. "The whole scheme was his masterwork. Blackmailing Morax, the alliance attempt with Andras – all of it orchestrated behind the Electorate's backs. I was just the puppet on strings, playing my part in daddy's grand performance."
"Why?" Octavia's voice was ice-cold, cutting through his diplomatic veneer. "Why go through all of this? Just tell me why."
"Goetian politics, my dear." Gaap spread his hands. "Simple as that. Your Uncle Vassago's court hearing could have ended your parents' little feud right there. But father..." He chuckled darkly. "Father saw an opportunity for more. Push it further, let it reach the rest of Electors' ears. A little bribe here, a whispered suggestion there..." He paused, watching her carefully before delivering his final blow. "And your dear Great-aunt Phenex knew it all. From the very beginning."
"Bullshit." Octavia cursed, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
"Is it?" Gaap's smile turned predatory. "Ask yourself why she made you a Marquise in the first place. Go on, ask her when we will come back." He took a step closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She needed a loyal pawn, and what better piece to play than her great-niece? Young, passionate, desperate to prove herself..."
Octavia stood frozen, her mind recalling through every interaction with Phenex. Each memory now tainted with new seed of doubts, poisoned by possibility that...Phenex's intention were not that noble.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Gaap's voice had lost its edge, replaced by something almost like understanding. "Realizing you're just another piece on their chess board. I know that feeling intimately." He leaned against a broken wall, suddenly looking tired. "At least you found out now. I spent years blindly following my father's orders, thinking I was proving my worth."
"You're bullshitting again," Octavia spat, but her voice wavered. "You could have said no. When Zepar ordered you to manipulate the Lemegeton Trials, you could have refused."
"Could I?" Gaap's laugh was hollow. "I love my father, Octavia. Even knowing he uses me, manipulates me, sees me as nothing but an extension of his will..." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of genuine distress. "I'd still do anything he asked. That's the real tragedy, isn't it?" He straightened up, fixing her with an intense stare. "Tell me something. If you own dad asked you to kill someone for his own benefit or health, what would you do?"
"He wouldn't..." Octavia responded immediately, but something cold settled in her stomach.
"Are you sure?" Gaap pressed, his voice gentle but relentless. "Really sure?"
Octavia opened her beak to respond, then closed it. The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken fears and uncomfortable truths.
"I don't know."
"Now you can see you and I are not that diffrent...and all that cliché bullshit." Gaap sighed, straightening his posture, "I meant what I said." He took a measured step forward, his voice taking on the practiced tone of courtly negotiation. "So let me make my proposition clear: I'll be your eyes and ears in the Ars Goetia court. Trust me, you'll need them." A knowing smile crossed his face. "Especially once we get to meet the Duke of Ars Colonia. That particular headache is going to be a problem for both of us, sooner rather than later."
Octavia studied him for a long moment. Gaap is really force of unknown. He did at least looked like he is more geuine than before...then again he might be lying. But Octavia can make important note, if he tries to fuck with her, that's where she will cross the line...at this point she will have enough of him.
"This is the last benefit of doubt you get, Gaap. The absolute last." Her voice hardened. "If you fuck this up, if this is another one of your games..." She left the threat hanging.
"I understand completely," Gaap replied, placing a hand over his heart in an exaggerated gesture of sincerity. "And I genuinely appreciate this trust. In fact, to prove my commitment to our new... friendship," His expression shifted, becoming more serious but he savored the words like fine wine, "I have some information you might find interesting. Consider it a gesture of good faith."
"What, did you soil your pants or something?" Octavia's voice dripped with sarcasm.
Gaap ignored her tone, his expression unusually serious. "It's quite simple, really. After the train crash, I had an... encounter with our Exorcist friend." His fingers drummed against his thigh nervously. "And even I won't pretend this isn't a bombshell. According to that thing, The Exorcists killed Ars Bael himself."
"What?" The word escaped Octavia's beak in a shocked whisper, all traces of sass vanishing instantly.
"Trust me, I was just as surprised." Gaap's laugh held no humor. "And I doubt Exorcists are in the business of lying. Heaven got ambitious enough to take out the Lord of Ars Goetia himself." He spread his hands. "As to why? That's the million soul question, isn't it?"
Her feathers ruffled slightly, a nervous habit she'd never quite shaken. "An Exorcist killed Ars Bael..." She let out a shaky breath, talons tightening. "What a fucking joke..."
"Eloquent as always," Gaap drawled, but his usual mockery lacked its edge. "But yes, that about sums it up."
"The most powerful demon in Hell, aside from Seven Deadly Sins..." Octavia began pacing, her boots crunching on broken glass as the full weight of the revelation sank in. "How? How did Heaven even—" She stopped abruptly, whirling to face Gaap. "Did you told anyone yet?"
"About the truth? No, only you. And it needs to stay that way." Gaap's expression turned grave. He held up a hand as Octavia opened her beak to protest. "Think about it. Really think. What happens when Hell learns that Heaven managed to kill our strongest warrior?"
"Panic, at best." Octavia answered slowly, her eyes widening. "Mass hysteria. Every Goetia house scrambling for power, thinking Heaven might—" She cut herself off, a new thought hitting her. "But the Electorate... they must know. They have to know."
"Now you're seeing it." Gaap's smile was razor-sharp. "And here's where it gets interesting. Ask yourself: who benefits most from Bael's death being blamed on natural causes? Of course it's Electorate" He began to pace around her, his movements precise and controlled. "And with our mutual grandfather positioning himself to become the next Ars..." He let out a bitter laugh. "Well, let's just say the timing is suspiciously convenient."
"So you think the Electorate might have..." Octavia's voice dropped to a whisper, the implication too dangerous to voice fully.
"Orchestrated it? Perhaps." Gaap shrugged, but his casual gesture couldn't hide the tension in his shoulders. "Or maybe they simply took advantage of Heaven's ambition. Either way, it's a perfect situation for them. They maintain the illusion of Hell's invulnerability while consolidating their own power."
"And our grandfather gets to be Ars," Octavia added, watching Gaap carefully. "Quite convenient for the House Paimon, isn't it?"
Gaap's expression tightened momentarily before smoothing into practiced neutrality. "My grandfather's ambitions and the Electorate's schemes might be more intertwined than even I know." He fixed Octavia with an intense stare. "Which is exactly why this information is so valuable. Knowledge is power, especially in Hell. And right now? We're the only ones outside the Electorate who know the truth."
"So we keep quiet.." Octavia concluded, her tone making it half question, half statement.
"For now." Gaap's smile turned calculating. "Let's see how events unfold. Watch who makes what moves. And when the time is right..." He let the sentence hang, heavy with possibility.
"When the time is right, what?" Octavia demanded, her patience wearing thin. "What exactly are you planning, Gaap?"
"Planning? Me?" He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I simply think we should keep our options open. After all..." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "If Heaven can kill Ars Bael, and the Electorate can cover it up, what else might they be hiding? Maybe that's why they sent two us for the Solomon MCGuffin...you never know." He took a step closer, eyes gleaming with calculated excitement. "But maybe... maybe we could get to the bottom of it. That Exorcist is already hunting me – perhaps we could turn that to our advantage. Take him hostage, somehow."
"Oh, brilliant plan, genius," Octavia mocked, rolling her eyes. "And how exactly do you propose we interrogate an Exorcist?"
A slow grin spread across Gaap's face. "Give me your Grimoire."
Octavia's hand instinctively went to the book at her side, hesitating. Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills before she finally pulled it out, the weight of their new agreement hanging between them.
"If you try anything—" she started.
"Please," Gaap scoffed, already flipping through the pages. "This is actually quite impressive book, by the way." His fingers traced the margins of various spells before finding a blank page. With practiced precision, he began sketching a complex runic symbol.
"There," he said, returning the book. "A little gift from House Paimon to House Octavia. This spell allows you to read the memories of any soul you've managed to spellbind." His grin turned predatory. "So here's the real plan: we catch our heavenly friend, and then we take a little stroll through his mind. See exactly how Bael met his end."
Octavia felt a chill run down her spine, not just from Gaap's words but from the gleam in his eyes. "I think about it. Just remember our deal. Whatever game you're playing, whatever schemes you're plotting – I'm not your puppet."
"Of course not," Gaap agreed smoothly. "You're my partner. And believe me. We're going to need each other for what's coming. Heaven's getting bold, the Electorate's keeping secrets, and my father..." He trailed off, something dark flickering across his face. "Well, let's just say the politics of Hell are about to become very interesting indeed."
*Motorcycle Engine Sounds*
Gaap's pointed ears twitched first, his posture stiffening as he turned toward the sound. Octavia noticed his reaction and fell silent, focusing her own hearing before rushing to the broken window. Through the jagged frame, she could see a massive dust cloud rising in the distance, growing larger by the second. The rumble grew louder, carrying the unmistakable sound of multiple motorcycles.
Before she could speak, Loona burst into the ruins, urgent.
"We've got company coming," she growled, jerking her head toward the direction of the abandoned diner. "Multiple bikes, moving fast."
"Shit," Octavia muttered, exchanging a quick glance with Gaap. Without another word, they followed Loona back to the diner, their boots kicking up dust as they ran.
Inside, Husk had already gathered the others. Striker leaned against the counter, his rifle close at hand, while Millie paced nervously near the kitchen entrance. The Shmucks huddled one of the booths, with Olivia hidding her supplies for Moxxie.
"Where's Moxxie?" Octavia demanded as soon as they entered, scanning the room for the injured imp.
Husk's wings rustled as he adjusted his position by the window, keeping watch. "Got him secured in the basement," he answered gruffly. "Safer down there anyway, considering our situation." He peered through a gap in the dusty blinds, his ears flattening. "Way these bikers are headed, wouldn't be surprised if they decide to check this place out. Abandoned diner's like a damn beacon in these parts."
"Then we need a plan," Octavia said, her mind racing through options. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, waiting for direction.
"Simple enough," Striker drawled, checking his ammunition with practiced ease. "We hide, let 'em come in nice and comfortable-like, then introduce ourselves proper. Element of surprise is worth more than gold out here."
"If we're doing this," Millie interjected, her voice tight with concern, "We need to make it quick and clean. Any prolonged fighting might draw that Exorcist right to us."
The mention of the Exorcist sent a visible shiver to Octavia. She squared her shoulders, forcing herself to focus on the immediate threat for now. "Alright. Let's get into position. But remember – we don't know who these bikers are or what they want. Be ready for anything."
The rumble of engines grew closer as everyone moved to their hiding spots, weapons at the ready. In the tense silence that followed, Octavia could only hope they weren't about to make a terrible mistake. Inside the darkened diner, Octavia's group held their breath as the rumble of engines drew closer. The sound of multiple vehicles pulling up sent dust swirling past the grimy windows, casting ethereal patterns in what little light filtered through.
"Not. A. Sound." Octavia whispered, her words barely a breath. She crouched behind an overturned table, eyes fixed on the entrance.
From her vantage point near a broken window, she could make out their visitors through gaps in the dusty blinds. The sight made her pause – these weren't the savage/tribal Hellhounds they'd come to expect. Instead, a group of Hellhounds dismounted their bikes, but there was something different about them. They carried themselves with an easy confidence, decked out in leather jackets adorned with patches and symbol she didn't recognize.
"MC perhaps?" Octavia wondered, judging by the bikes and jackets.
Their weapons caught her attention next – sawn-off shotguns strapped to backs, assault rifles slung across chests, all maintained with obvious care. These weren't scavengers; they were organized, equipped like a proper motorcycle club. Near one of the larger bikes, two Hellhounds were engaged conversation, their voices carrying clearly through the still air.
"Yo, check this shit out, dog," the taller one said, running his paw along his bike's chrome exhaust. He wore a bandana wrapped around his head and had gold chains glinting against his dark fur. "These dampers ain't holding up worth a damn in this heat."
His companion, a stockier Hellhound with an eyepatch and worn leather vest, leaned in to inspect the part. "Man, whatchu expect? Running these old school Howlers in the wastelands? Shit's gonna wear down faster than a furry at a catnip party."
"For real though," The first one laughed, his tail swishing as he straightened up. "But this my baby right here. Can't just swap out parts like some basic bitch."
"Ay yo, quit yappin' about your ride for five minutes, Hati. We ain't here for a mechanic meetup. Need to check this spot out – could be good for a rest stop on the south route."
"Whatever you say, Skoll," Hati replied, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "But I'm telling you, these dampers gonna be the death of me."
"Only thing gonna be the death of you is running your mouth, dog," Skoll growled, though there was humor in his tone. He turned to address the wider group. "Aight, let's sweep this joint. And keep those eyes sharp – lot of crazy shit running around these parts lately. Nomads 4 life!"
The Hellhounds spread out, weapons ready but held casually, approaching the diner with practiced efficiency. Their boots crunched on broken glass and gravel, the sound eerily loud in the wasteland silence.
"Yo, once we track down these Goetias, think Cyrus gonna let us hit that new bar in the Purple District?" Skoll adjusted his shotgun strap, glancing at Hati.
"Man, this your second time this week," Hati shook his head, chains jingling. "You trying to drink your stupid dog-ass?"
"Please," Skoll scoffed, puffing out his chest. "I can handle twenty cups of whiskey without breaking a sweat. Probably crash at your place after though."
"Dog, fuck you," Hati growled, though there was no real heat in it. "I'm dragging your drunk ass straight to Cyrus if that happens."
"Ah, furry, don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful, furry." Skoll's muzzle split in a vicious grin. "Maybe if you got rid of that old yee-yee ass haircut you got you'd get some bitches on your dick. Oh, better yet, maybe Morrigan'll call your dog-ass if she ever stop fuckin' with that surgeon imp or Goetia lawyer she fucking with....Furry!"
The other Hellhounds broke into raucous laughter, as Hati raised his mouth in shock. From their hiding spot behind the counter, Gaap's face twisted in bewilderment.
"What in the names of Ars Belial and Ars Bael are these mongrels even talking about? Is this some sort of primitive ritual communication?" He whispered, his aristocratic sensibilities clearly offended.
"You would understand if you stepped outside once or twice." Loona's lips curled back in a silent snarl, her red eyes flashing dangerously as she turned to him. "Maybe try walking in a Hellhound's shoes before you judge us, Your Highness." She growled under her breath, barely containing her contempt.
"Please. There's nothing purer than the Goetian way of life. We don't need to resort to... whatever this crude display is." Gaap's scowl deepened, his voice dripping with centuries of noble prejudice.
Before Loona could retort, a floorboard creaked ominously above their heads. Both of them froze, the class tension between them momentarily forgotten as Skoll's boots appeared at the edge of their vision, uncomfortably close to their hiding spot.
"Yo," Skoll's voice rumbled from above them. "Anyone else hear that?"
Skoll's heavy boots thudded against the diner floor as he moved deeper inside, his nose twitching actively. The other Hellhounds checked from the other angles, weapons ready but relaxed.
"Something ain't right here," He muttered, taking another deep sniff. His ears suddenly perked up and a knowing grin spread across his muzzle. "Hold up... someone in here's been real excited recently. Like, hormones-through-the-roof excited. Horny is horny."
In their various hiding spots, every head in Octavia's group slowly turned toward Olivia. The Lady-In-Waiting caught their stares and responded with an apologetic shrug, mouthing 'sorry' while making an innocent gesture with her hands. Her expression was less 'embarrassed' and more 'whoops, my bad!'
Octavia pressed a hand to her face in silent exasperation while Gaap looked physically pained trying to contain his reaction. Meanwhile, Skoll had made his way to the counter, pawing through items scattered there – Husk's half-empty whiskey bottle, some playing cards, an ashtray still holding the ghost of cigarette smoke.
"Recent," He growled softly. "Real recent."
"Now it's our chance." Striker unsheathed his dagger.
"Wait, what are you - " Octavia was about to protest his decision but without warning or approval, Striker already launched himself from behind a booth, blessed dagger in hand. His movement was silent, practiced, deadly – the strike of a professional assassin aimed straight for Skoll's throat.
In a blur of motion that seemed impossible for his size, Skoll twisted around. His arm caught Striker's wrist mid-strike, redirecting the blade's trajectory. Before the assassin could react, Skoll's other paw grabbed his shoulder and used Striker's own momentum against him.
The world spun, and Striker found himself slammed onto the diner floor hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. A heavy boot pressed down on his chest, pinning him in place. The cold metal of a sawn-off shotgun pressed against his forehead, both barrels staring him down like hungry eyes.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Skoll's roar rattled the diner's windows, his previous casual demeanor replaced by pure predatory fury. His finger tensed on the trigger, fur bristling as he bared his fangs. The other Hellhounds burst through the entrance, weapons raised, spreading out to cover every angle of the diner. Their easy-going attitudes had vanished, replaced by the disciplined movements of experienced fighters.
"Well..." Under Skoll's boot, Striker managed a strained laugh despite his predicament. "This could've gone better."
Octavia took a deep breath, weighing their rapidly diminishing options. With practiced royal composure, she slowly rose from her hiding spot, hands raised in a placating gesture, much to everyone's concern.
"We mean no harm." She said, trying to project calm authority despite the circumstances.
Skoll's eyes widened, his grip on the shotgun faltering slightly, looking between Striker and Octavia. "What the actual fuck? Why's a goddamn Goetia out here in the wasteland?"
"Yo, hold up!" Hati burst through the entrance, skidding to a stop as he took in the scene. His eyes locked onto Octavia, confusion evident on his face before something clicked. He frantically patted his jacket pockets before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.
"Ay, you Natasha?" He asked, squinting at the paper.
"I... what? No, why would I be 'Natasha'?" Octavia's composed demeanor cracked slightly. Her beak twisted in obvious distaste. "Who would name their child Natasha? That's the stupidest name I've ever..." She crossed her arms, actually looking offended. "It's such a stupid name. Like, genuinely stupid. Who even came up with that?"
"Nah, hold up, I got this..." Hati frowned, turning the paper different angles as if that would help. He moved his finger along whatever was written, mouthing words silently. "Ehm...Aivatco?"
"For fuck's sake!" Skoll growled, still keeping Striker pinned. He held out his free paw expectantly. "Give me that before you hurt yourself!"
"Man, I almost had it this time," Hati grumbled, handing over the paper.
Skoll glanced at it, then gave his fellow Hellhound an exasperated look. "Dog, this clearly says 'Octavia.' Like, crystal clear. No weird spelling or nothing." He turned back to Octavia. "That you?"
"Yes, that would be me." Octavia confirmed, unable to keep a slight smirk from her face. These two are literal two adorable goofballs.
The tension in the diner shifted instantly. Skoll removed his boot from Striker's chest, offering a paw to help him up. Around them, the other Hellhounds lowered their weapons, though they maintained their positions.
"Shit, why didn't you say so?" Skoll chuckled, helping Striker to his feet with surprising gentleness. "We've been looking all over for your group since the train crash. Marquis Marchosias himself sent us."
"Marchosias sent you?" Octavia's eyes widened slightly.
"Yeah, Big-Dog Boss keeps his ear to the ground," Skoll shrugged. "When he heard about the crash, he figured you might have survived." He grinned, showing off impressive fangs. "Told us to keep an eye out for, and I quote, 'an owl demon who radiates both royal dignity and teenage attitude. You will know her.'"
"That does sound like Marchosias," Octavia sighed with roll of her eyes, then called out to the rest of her group. "It's safe to come out now."
As the others emerged from their hiding spots, Hati was still staring at the paper in Skoll's hand.
"Man, I could've sworn it said Natasha..."
"Dog, we really got to get you some reading lessons!" Skoll muttered, shaking his head. "Can't have you mixing up names when we're trying to rescue Goetian nobility and shit."
"Hey, I'm improving!" Hati protested. "Last time I only mixed up three letters instead of all of them!"
"That's not the flex you think it is, furball."
Loona emerged from behind the counter last, her posture tense and guarded. Her eyes locked onto the other Hellhounds, studying their patches and gear with the scrutiny of someone who'd learned the hard way not to trust easily.
Skoll's ears perked up immediately, his attention shifting from Octavia to Loona. His tail gave an involuntary wag before he caught himself. "Ayyo, check it out! One of our own up in here!" His casual tone couldn't quite hide his interest. "Especially running wit'..." he gestured vaguely at the eclectic group, "Whatever this crazy-ass situation is."
"What can I say?" Loona's reply dripped with practiced sarcasm, though there was an edge of defensiveness to it. "I'm not exactly a 'pack mentality' kind of girl."
"Dawg, you hear this?" Hati let out a barking laugh. "Sounds like somebody else who thinks your whole 'Nomads 4 Life' shit is straight wack, fam!"
"Man, don't even start!" Skoll protested, though his eyes never left Loona. "That ain't wack, that's straight tradition! Besides, pack ain't about that conforming shit. It's about having your homies' backs when shit gets real, feel me?"
"Oh please, spare us the recruitment speech, Hellhound." Gaap, who had been dusting himself off with exaggerated care, couldn't resist commenting. "We have more pressing matters than your little... motorcycle club's philosophy."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Skoll's easy demeanor vanished, replaced by something older and more dangerous.
"Little motorcycle club? Nah homie, you got it twisted." He took a step toward Gaap, his voice low. "Hounds been hunting since before your great-granddaddy was even a thought in the void, your highness."
"Ay yo, chill!" Hati stepped up, gold chains jingling. "This bougie-ass demon don't know what he talking about!"
Olivia quickly stepped between them. "Perhaps we could discuss history lessons after we're somewhere safer? Preferably with drinks and decent bathtubs?"
"Don't you start, Olivia." Octavia slowly said, seeing why she says about bathtub.
"Miss Olivia got a point," Husk grunted from his position by the window. "We've got an injured imp in the basement and an Exorcist who could be tracking us."
"Damn, that's ice cold," Skoll muttered, then raised his voice. "Aight, new plan, fam. We got a safehouse in Little Limbo like twenty miles. Mad fortified, off them main dangers, and warded against them holy weapons." He looked at Octavia. "It ain't exactly that bougie shit you used to, but it'll keep your birdy-ass alive."
"At this point, I'd take a cardboard box," Octavia replied dryly.
"Already got you covered, princess," Skoll grinned, jangling his keys. "Got a war rig parked that's clean as fuck. All kinds of space for your crew."
"And what's the catch? Nothing comes free." Loona, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly spoke up.
"Nah baby girl, ain't no catch." Skoll met her gaze." Marchosias threw mad stacks at us to make sure shorty here gets home safe." He gestured to Octavia. "Everything else? That's just how we do."
"How you do," Loona repeated, her tone skeptical but with a hint of amusement.
"Look here," Skoll said, his voice softening slightly, "I feel you. Trust ain't exactly what Hell known for. But right now? We your best shot at not getting merked by whatever fool shit y'all caught up in."
As the group began preparing to move out, Loona found herself walking past Skoll. He caught her eye, and that familiar grin returned to his face.
"Ay," he said quietly, "Real talk though? It's straight fire seeing a lone wolf like you holding it down for a princess. Ice Cold!"
"Whatever. Just keep your 'Nomads 4 Life' bullshit to a minimum." Loona rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite suppress a small smirk.
"Can't make no promises, shorty," Skoll laughed, then added more seriously, "But maybe we can show you what that pack life really about. Sometimes family find you when you ain't even looking, know what I'm saying?"
"Yeah," Loona muttered, watching as Millie and Husk carefully helped Moxxie up from the basement. "I might know something about that."
"Ay yo, this that real shit right here. But we better bounce before some fools start sniffing around. No cap!" Hati appeared beside them, adjusting his bandana.
"Facts," Skoll nodded, then called out to the group. "Aight fam, let's roll out! And Goetia dude?" His grin turned sharp. "Try not to get your designer pants dirty on the ride, my guy. That shit would be tragic."
The rest of the Hellhounds burst into laughter, while Gaap's face twisted into an expression that suggested he was seriously reconsidering his choices. Octavia just shook her head, a small smile playing at the corners of her beak. Sometimes the best allies came in the most unexpected packages.
As the group began filing out of the diner, Gaap lingered behind, his aristocratic features twisted in barely contained rage. His eyes swept over the departing Hellhounds with pure contempt, fingers curling into tight fists at his sides. The very air around him seemed to crackle with suppressed power.
"First time in ages I agree with Astaroth." he muttered under his breath, voice dripping with centuries of ingrained prejudice. "Perhaps another "Night of Crying Moon" wouldn't be such a terrible thing. Put these mongrels back in their proper place..."
"Yo princey!" Skoll's voice cut through his dark musings. "You coming or you just gonna stand there looking constipated?"
Gaap's eye twitched violently. With supreme effort, he smoothed his expression into one of cold indifference and followed the others, though anyone watching closely might have noticed the slight tremor in his hands – a nobleman barely containing his murderous intent.
The walk to the war rig was mercifully short, though the reactions when they first saw it were worth the journey. What should have been a rusted heap of scrap metal was instead a masterpiece of post-apocalyptic engineering. The massive vehicle dominated the landscape, its armored hull gleaming dully in Hell's perpetual twilight. Multiple gun turrets were mounted along its length, while the cab itself looked like it could withstand a direct hit from an missle strike.
"Unholy shit," Loona breathed, actually impressed despite herself. Her eyes traced the vehicle's modified chassis and custom armor plating. "How the fuck did you get this thing running?"
Skoll grinned, running a clawed hand along the war rig's side with obvious pride. "That's the life of Nomads, baby girl. The only difference between most demons and us Nomads is that Nomads have better cars." He patted the armor plating. "This beauty right here? Could maul down the entire fucking crowd."
"Alright fam, let's get loaded up!" Hati called out, already settled on his Harley. The bike was a thing of demonic beauty – a modified Dyna Wide Glide that looked like it had been dragged through Hell and came out stronger. Twisted metal with spikes additions gave it an organic, almost living quality, while the engine purred with an otherworldly resonance.
Octavia's team grabbed everything they can for Little Limbo, emptying their little dinner safehouse completely with valuable stuff. Everything was going smoothly until they tried to load Striker's horse.
Bombproof took one look at the war rig's cargo compartment and decided that no, actually, this was not happening today. The massive black stallion planted his hooves firmly on the ground, ears pinned back, looking at the compartment like it had personally offended his entire bloodline straight to False God himself.
"Come on, boah," Striker coaxed, trying to maintain his cool assassin demeanor while essentially arguing with a horse. "It's just a big metal box. You've faced down worse without flinching!"
"Nah homie, you doing it all wrong!" One of the Hellhounds, sporting a spiked collar and numerous piercings, stepped forward. "Horses love me. Watch this."
The Hellhound approached Bombproof with what he clearly thought was a winning smile. The horse took one look at his fangs and promptly backed up, nearly trampling Striker in the process.
"Shit!" Striker yelped, dodging flying hooves. "Will you quit 'helping'?"
Meanwhile, Loona had wandered over to where Hati was adjusting his bike's mirrors.
"Sup?" He glanced up at her approach, tail giving a slight wag.
Loona didn't respond immediately, her attention caught by the masterpiece of engineering before her. Her eyes traced the custom modifications and demonic enhancements with genuine appreciation.
"That bike of yours?"
"You like?" Hati's face lit up at her interest, and suddenly he was off, words tumbling out in excited succession. "Built her myself, you know. Modified the engine with some extra shit – gives it that extra kick when you need it. The exhaust system? Custom designed to channel hellfire. And these handlebars?" He patted them lovingly. "Looks fucking sexy than pair of Succubus' tits."
Loona nearly left chucke, His enthusiasm was almost endearing as he continued,
"This bike, man... she's like a girlfriend, you feel me? Reliable, faithful, never fails me. Unlike my actual ex who tried to steal my kidney while I was sleeping." He paused, then added thoughtfully, "Though to be fair, I did steal her car first."
In the background, the situation with Bombproof had devolved into complete chaos. Now three Hellhounds, Striker, and even Husk were trying various approaches to coax the stubborn horse into the cargo hold. The stallion responded by somehow looking down his nose at all of them, despite technically being at eye level.
"Got any apples?" Another Hellhound suggested.
"We're in the middle of a wasteland, dawg. Where the fuck we gonna find apples?" His companion responded.
"I don't know, I'm just trying to help!"
Octavia watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
"Should we... do something about this?"
"Nah," Skoll grinned, leaning against the war rig. "This shit's better than cable."
Gaap, standing as far from the Hellhounds as physically possible while still being part of the group, looked skyward as if praying for patience. Or possibly genocide. With him, it was getting harder to tell. While Bombproof's loading drama continued in the background, Loona's attention remained on Hati's bike. She ran a claw carefully along the modified fuel tank, admiring the craftsmanship. Seems Hati didn't mind it, at all.
"So what MC you run with?" She asked casually, straightening up. "Usually it's imps who are big on the whole motorcycle club thing as far I know."
Hati's ears flattened slightly, and he actually looked mildly offended. "Nah shorty, you got it twisted. We ain't no MC." He adjusted his bandana with pride. "We're Nomads. Big difference."
"Difference being...?" Loona raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious despite her attempt to sound disinterested.
Before Hati could launch into his explanation about Nomads, Skoll's triumphant voice cut through their conversation.
"Ay yo, we finally got that bougie-ass horse situated!" He called out, wearing a satisfied grin. "Though I gotta say, never seen an assassin have to do the whole 'happy horse' dance before. Shit was straight comedy!"
"I did NOT dance, cowpoke!" Striker's indignant voice echoed from inside the cargo hold, followed by several poorly suppressed snickers from the other Hellhounds.
"Man, whatever helps you sleep at night," Skoll chuckled, then turned serious. "Aight, let's get this show on the road before someone catches our scent."
He swung himself up into the War Rig's driver seat with practiced ease, immediately starting to flip switches and check gauges. The massive vehicle rumbled to life, its engine sound somewhere between a demonic growl and industrial machinery. Husk approached the passenger side, wings tucked close as he sized up the climb.
"Guess I'm riding shotgun," he grumbled, pulling himself up with surprising agility for someone perpetually hungover. "And I mean that literally," he added, patting the modified holy weapon strapped to his back.
"Just try not to throw up if shit gets wild," Skoll grinned, adjusting his mirrors. "This ain't exactly a smooth ride."
Hati, still perched on his Harley, suddenly turned to Loona with what he clearly thought was a smooth expression. "Ay yo, speaking of wild rides..." He patted the seat behind him. "How about it, shorty? Better than being crammed in that box with everybody else."
"Dude. Uncool." Loona gave him a look that could have melted steel.
"Nah, for real though!" Hati held up his hands defensively, though his grin didn't fade. "I mean, you seen how many people they stuffing in there? Plus," he added with a waggle of his eyebrows, "Ain't nobody know these routes better than me. Could show you some real wasteland shit."
"Ay, quit trying to sound mysterious and shit! Last time you tried to show off, you drove into that sinkhole!" Skoll called out from the War Rig.
"Man, that was ONE TIME!" Hati protested. "And I maintained that shit was a portal to the deeper Rings, not no regular-ass sinkhole!"
Loona looked between the cramped War Rig, where Octavia's group was already squeezing in, and Hati's admittedly well-maintained bike. After a moment of consideration, she rolled her eyes.
"Fine. But try any funny shit and I'm throwing you off your own bike."
"Aight, bet!" Hati's tail started wagging before he could stop it. He reached into one of his saddlebags and pulled out a spare pair of goggles. They were well-worn but clean, with red-tinted lenses that seemed to glow faintly. "Here. Trust me, you gonna want these. Wasteland dust ain't no joke."
Grabbing with no word, Loona put them. As she adjusted the goggles, she caught Octavia giving her a knowing smirk from the War Rig's window. She responded with a middle finger, which only made the princess's smirk wider.
"If you two are done with whatever this is," Gaap's disdainful voice carried from inside the vehicle, "Perhaps we could focus on moving?"
"Man, do you ever get tired of being a hater?" Hati called back cheerfully, then turned to Loona. "Ready to see how a real Nomad rides?"
"Just drive the damn bike," Loona muttered, though there might have been the ghost of a smile behind her new goggles as she settled onto the seat behind him.
"Aight convoy!" Skoll's voice boomed out. "Let's show these city folks how we do it in the waste! Nomads 4 Life!"
"Nomads 4 LIFE!" The other Hellhounds responded in unison, their bikes roaring to life.
"I swear to Lucifer!" Loona groaned, "if you make me say that, I really will throw you off this bike."
"Nah, you gonna come up with it on your own once you see what we about. Hold tight, shorty. This about to get interesting." Hati just laughed, revving his engine.
The convoy thundered across the wasteland, kicking up clouds of dust in their wake. The War Rig led the charge, its massive form cutting through the desolate landscape like a battle-scarred leviathan, while the Hellhound bikes formed a protective escort around it. The Moon of Hell cast long shadows across the terrain, turning everything into shades of black and rust.
Loona found herself actually enjoying the ride, though she'd die before admitting it. The wind whipped through her fur, carrying the acrid scent of brimstone and motor oil. The red-tinted goggles Hati had given her transformed the world into something almost otherworldly, like riding through an eternal darkness.
"So," She called out over the roar of the engine, "You were about to explain what makes Nomads so different from MCs!"
Hati's ears perked up, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he responded. "Aight, check it! MCs, they all about territory, right? Claiming spots, defending turf, that whole basic shit. But us?" He gestured to the endless wasteland around them. "The whole fucking Inferno is our territory!"
He swerved smoothly around a crater, the bike responding to his touch like it was part of him. "See, Nomads? We're the ones who know how to actually survive out here. We don't just exist in Hell, we understand it. Every route, every danger, every opportunity – that's our real wealth."
"Still sounds like typical gang shit to me," Loona countered, though there was genuine curiosity in her tone.
"Nah, you ain't getting it! Look at your crew back there." Hati barked out a laugh. He then nodded toward the War Rig. "Got yourself a princess, some imps, and whatever the fuck that stuck-up Sinner is. In the city? They'd never even breathe the same air. But out here?" He patted the bike's fuel tank. "Out here, survival means something different. That's what being a Nomad are. We don't care what Ring you're from, what bloodline you claim, or who you pissed off back in the city. Out here, you either learn to work together, or you die alone."
They passed the burnt-out husk of what might have been a gas station. Skeletal remains were scattered around it, picked clean by wasteland scavengers.
"Rings got their politics, their hierarchies, all that bureaucratic bullshit," Hati's voice took on an edge of pride. "But the road? This shit's pure. Either you got what it takes or you don't. No fake titles gonna save you when a sandstorm hits or when them Exorcist come rolling through."
"That why you all do that 'Nomads 4 Life' thing?" Loona asked, unable to keep the slight mockery out of her tone.
"Man, you really fixed on that, huh?" Hati chuckled. "Look, I know it sound corny as fuck. But when you been through the shit we have? When you seen your boys take bullets for each other, share their last drop of water, carry each other's bikes through shit? That shit means something."
He adjusted their course slightly, following the War Rig as it navigated around a particularly treacherous-looking area. "Besides, ain't like we forcing nobody. You either feel it or you don't. Some demons, they born for them city walls. Others?" His voice took on a thoughtful tone. "Others need something real. Something that ain't about whose ass you gotta kiss or what family you born into."
"And Marchosias? How does a Goetian Prince fit into all this 'real' shit?" Loona pressed.
"Big M? He different," Hati replied instantly. "Man saw what we was about and respected it. Doesn't try to control us like them other nobles. Instead, he give us work, resources, shit we need to keep the routes safe. In return?" He shrugged. "We make sure important shit – and important people – get where they need to go."
The bike crested a small rise, giving them a view of the convoy spread out below. The War Rig moved with surprising grace for its size, while the other Hellhounds maintained perfect spacing around it, their formation shifting smoothly to account for terrain and potential threats.
"You know what's funny?" Hati continued, his voice softer now. "Most demons look at Hellhounds and see savages. Think we just some wild dogs playing at being civilized. But out here?" He gestured to the wasteland again. "We got something most of them city Hound folks lost a long time ago."
"Yeah? What's that?" Loona found herself genuinely curious.
"Freedom," Hati replied simply. "Real, actual freedom. Not that fake shit they sell you in Gluttony or rest of Inferno. Out here, only thing that matters is what you can do and who you can trust. Everything else? Just noise."
They rode in silence for a moment, the engine's rumble filling the space between words. Finally, Loona spoke up again.
"So what's Skoll's deal anyway?" She asked, partially to distract herself from the growing storm. "He seems pretty set on recruiting every Hellhound he meets."
Hati's laugh carried over the storm's growing roar. "Nah, you got him all wrong! Skoll ain't about forcing nobody into nothing. He just..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "He got this gift, you feel me? Like he can see what people could be, even when they can't see it themselves."
A particularly large water drop splashed near them, and Hati smoothly adjusted their course. "Take Marcus over there," he nodded toward one of the escort riders – a lean Hellhound with a patch-covered vest. "Came from Adoption Center actually but we found him living in the back alley behind some market place, stealing food just to survive. Now? He's our best scout, can spot an patrol from miles out."
Loona's ears perked up at the mention of adoption centers, memories of her own past stirring uncomfortably.
"How many of you...?" She left the question hanging.
"Come from them fucked-up places?" Hati finished for her, his voice taking on a harder edge. "Most of us. Shit, look around. See Razor there? Three different centers kicked him out for being 'too aggressive.' Now he's our enforcer, keeps the discipline. Dakota behind us? Marked for death by Adoption Center before she escaped into the streets. Girl can track a demon through a sandstorm now. That's what Skoll and Cyrus saw in all of us. Not what them centers labelled us as, but what we could become. He ain't trying to recruit you, shorty. He just recognizes something in you that he seen in all of us – that fire that comes from having to fight for everything you ever got."
Through the dust-streaked goggles, Loona studied the other riders more carefully now. She noticed things she hadn't before – the way they moved as one unit, how they communicated with subtle gestures and occasional barks, the practiced ease with which they protected each other from the worst.
"Family..." she said suddenly, the word feeling strange on her tongue.
"Exactly!" Hati's tail gave an excited wag. "But not that fake shit. This is real family – the kind that backs you up when everything's gone to shit, that fights beside you not because they have to, but because they choose to."
"So what happens if someone doesn't want to join? If they don't feel that... family thing you're talking about?"
"Then they don't join," Hati shrugged, the movement rippling through the bike. "Simple as that. We ain't about forcing nobody into nothing they don't feel. Hell, we got plenty of folks who just ride with us sometimes, trade with us, or just need help getting from one place to another." He grinned over his shoulder. "Like your princess back there."
"She's not my princess," Loona growled automatically.
"Nah, but you protecting her like she is," Hati observed. "So what's your story, shorty? Where you come from before all this crazy shit?"
"None of your fucking business," Loona snapped, the response automatic, defensive. Her grip on the bike tightened imperceptibly.
"Damn, you remind me of myself when I was younger," Hati chuckled, unbothered by her hostility. "All teeth and attitude, ready to bite anybody who got too close. Let me guess – adoption center kid too?"
The tension in Loona's posture told him everything he needed to know.
"Yo, real talk?" Hati continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I been there too. Happy Tails Adoption Center, down in the Greed Ring. Spent fifteen years in that bitch before some Imp decided he wanted a 'exotic pet.'" The last words dripped with old bitterness.
"What happened?" Despite herself, Loona found her curiosity piqued.
"Same old story, feel me? Imp treated me like I was some fancy-ass accessory. Had me wearing these bougie-ass collars, showing me off at his rich-ass parties." Hati's ears flattened against his skull at the memory. "Motherfucker even had the nerve to make me sleep in this tiny-ass diamond-studded doghouse. Shit was mad disrespectful."
A particularly violent gust of wind buffeted the bike, but Hati handled it with practiced ease before continuing.
"So one night, I just bounced. Straight up dipped while he was hosting some fancy dinner party. Took that stupid-ass collar off and never looked back." He barked out a laugh. "Though I did keep the diamonds. A dog gotta eat, know what I'm saying?"
"Smart." Loona found herself smirking slightly.
"So I ended up in the Gluttony Ring. Did anything I could and visited Bee's parties." Hati continued. "But damn, that shit was rough at first. Other Hellhounds looking at me like I was some sort of sellout 'cause I came from adoption center. Shit had me feeling mad alienated, no cap. Ended up running with this street gang: The Grove." He snorted. "Yeah, I know, mad basic name. But they was the first ones who ain't look at me like I was broken goods, feel me?"
"What happened to them?" Loona asked, genuine interest creeping into her voice.
"Same thing that happens to most gangs down here – shit got complicated. Territory beefs, power struggles, all that basic bitch drama." Hati's voice carried old pain beneath its casual tone. "Lost some good dogs in them streets. That's when newly born Aldecaldos found me, showed me there was more to life than just claiming corners and fighting over scraps."
"Yeah...I feel you." Loona muttered, somewhat it felt close to her.
"You know what the real funny shit is?" Hati continued, skilfully guiding them through the road. "All them folks who tried to 'fix' us? The adoption centers, them fake-ass owners, even them gang bangers? They was all trying to make us fit into their little boxes. But out here?" He gestured at their surroundings with one hand. "Out here, all that shit that made us 'broken' in their eyes? That's what keeps us alive."
He glanced back at her, and for once, his usual joking demeanor was replaced with something more sincere. "That's why I ain't asking for your whole life story, shorty. Every dog got their own path, feel me? All that matters is where you choosing to go now."
The words hung in the air between them, almost tangible despite the dust. Loona found herself thinking about Blitzø, about her own adoption story. It wasn't perfect – hell, it was probably fucked up by most standards – but it was real. It was hers.
"Came from adoption Center from Sloth." Loona finally let it out. "Things were....horrible and I was planned to be dropped off into streets...but my "Dad" saved me."
"Dad?"
"Well...not like real dad but...well he is an Imp so...adopted father."
"Your pops," Hati said suddenly, breaking the momentary silence. "He treat you right?"
Loona was quiet for so long that Hati thought she might not answer. When she did, her voice carried a complexity of emotions that belied her usual sarcasm.
"Blitzø... he's..." She paused, searching for words. "He's fucking weird, okay? Like, seriously weird. Does stupid shit all the time, embarrasses the hell out of me, and has absolutely no concept of personal boundaries."
"Sounds rough," Hati offered, but Loona wasn't finished.
"But..." She took a deep breath, the words coming easier now. "He actually gives a shit, you know? Like, genuinely gives a shit. Not because he wants something, or because he's trying to show me off. He's just... there. Even when I'm being a total bitch, even when I fuck up. He's just... there."
"Word?" Hati nodded, understanding in his voice. "That's real shit right there. Not many folks down here actually care like that."
"Yeah, well," Loona shifted uncomfortably, "Don't make a big deal about it."
"I won't..." Hati was quiet for a moment, guiding the bike through a particularly nasty patch of terrain before speaking again. "Ay yo, can I ask you something though? And like, no disrespect or nothing but..." He hesitated. "You ever wonder about your real folks? Like, your biological parents and shit?"
"What's there to wonder about?" The tension in Loona's posture returned instantly. "I never saw my real parents...probably dumped me when I was a pup. End of story."
"Shit's fucked up," Hati agreed solemnly. "But like, you never tried to find out who they was? Maybe they had a reason or—"
"What fucking reason could be good enough?" Loona's voice cracked slightly, raw emotion bleeding through her carefully maintained walls. "You know what it's like in those places. All those perfect little families coming through, looking at you like you're some kind of... of merchandise. Picking out the cute ones, the ones that 'match their aesthetic' or whatever bullshit."
Hati nodded, understanding all too well. "Yeah, I feel you. Them adoption shows they make us do? Shit's straight degrading."
"Exactly!" Loona's grip on his jacket tightened unconsciously. "And the worst part? After a while, you start thinking maybe there is something wrong with you. Like, maybe if you were cuter, or better behaved, or... or..."
"Or more what they wanted you to be," Hati finished softly. "Yeah, I been there."
"Blitzø... he didn't care about any of that shit. He saw me at my absolute worst – snarling, biting, completely feral... and he still wanted me. Still chose me." She swallowed hard. "So no, I don't give a fuck about my 'real' parents. They made their choice. And I made mine."
"That's real talk right there," Hati nodded approvingly. "Family ain't about blood. It's about who stands by you when shit gets real."
"Yeah, well," Loona's voice regained some of its usual edge, "if you tell anyone I said any of this emotional bullshit, I will literally end you."
"Ay yo, chill!" Hati laughed, the sound carrying over the storm. "This shit stays between us. Besides," he added with a grin she could hear in his voice, "ain't nobody gonna believe me if I told them the ice queen actually got feelings!"
"Watch it, furball," Loona growled, but there was no real heat in it.
Before they could conntiune with their share of trauma. Ahead of them, the War Rig's horn blasted twice – a signal from Skoll.
"Ah shit!" Hati's sudden curse cut through the storm's howl. "That ain't good."
"What?" Loona tensed behind him, picking up on his shift in mood. "What's not good?"
Before Hati could answer, another Hellhound rider – Dakota pulled up alongside them, her bike weaving expertly to them. Her face was grim beneath her goggles.
"Yo Hati!" She called out over the engines. "We got eyes on us from the high ground! Multiple positions!"
"Fuck me," Hati growled, then reached into his saddlebag with one hand, pulling out a pair of beat-up but serviceable binoculars. "Ay yo shorty, I need you to check something for me. Take these and look up at them ridges to our left. Tell me what you see."
Loona grabbed the binoculars, adjusting them quickly despite the bike's movement. She scanned the rocky outcroppings that lined their route, at first seeing nothing but storm-wracked wasteland. Then something moved – a flash of metal, a hint of fur...
"Oh shit," She breathed, the words barely audible.
"Please tell me I'm wrong," Hati's voice was unusually serious. "Tell me it ain't them crazy motherfuckers."
Through the binoculars, Loona could now make out multiple figures moving along the ridgeline. They were Hellhounds. Their fur was matted and decorated with crude war paint, their bodies adorned with scavenged armor made from what looked like car parts and scrap metal. Most disturbing were their masks – crafted from the skulls of various demons, modified with sharp metal additions that gave them an almost bird-like appearance.
"Savage Hellhounds" She confirmed, already guessing they must have searched for them.
"Vicar on my dick!" Hati snarled, his usual laid-back demeanor completely gone. "Dakota! Get word to Skoll! Tell him we got fucking Wraiths on our six!"
Dakota's bike peeled away, racing toward the War Rig as Hati continued cursing under his breath.
"How bad is it seeing them outside?" Loona asked, still tracking the raiders through the binoculars. Their movements were unnervingly coordinated, like a pack of predators herding prey.
"On a scale of one to fucked?" Hati's laugh was humorless. "Let's just say them crazy dogs make regular raiders look like puppies at a tea party. They ain't just about stealing shit – they into that old school savage shit. Think they following some ancient Hellhound warrior code or something."
"Yeah...got acquainted with them before." Loona muttered. Through the binoculars, she watched as more Buzzards appeared along the ridge. Their vehicles were as modified as they were – motorcycles and dune buggies turned into mobile weapon platforms, covered in spikes and trophy bones. "They're moving into position. Surrounding us."
"Yeah, that's their thing," Hati confirmed grimly. "They like to herd folks into killing grounds, then..." He made a slashing motion across his throat. "Let's just say they got a thing for collecting new skull masks, if you feel me."
Up ahead, the War Rig's horn sounded again – three short blasts this time. A warning signal.
"Hold tight!" Hati's voice took on an edge of steel as he gunned the engine. "This shit's about to get real ugly!"
The first Buzzard vehicle burst from behind a rocky outcrop like a demon from a nightmare – all rusted metal and razor-sharp spikes, its engine screaming with an unholy mix of hellfire and diesel. The dune buggy's front was modified into a massive saw blade that spun with deadly purpose, throwing sparks as it bounced across the uneven terrain.
"In there! Sawn-off! Grab it!" Hati shouted over the roar of engines, reaching into his bike's saddlebag.
"You're just gonna hand me a loaded weapon? For all you know, I could shoot you in the back." Loona found the shotgun, its grip worn smooth from use.
"You really wanna have this conversation NOW?" Hati swerved hard as another Buzzard vehicle emerged, this one bristling with javelins. "Just shoot these fuckers!"
"Fair point." Loona chambered a round, the sound somehow satisfying even amid the chaos. The weapon felt good in her hands – solid, reliable, unlike the fancy shit from I.M.P.'s arsenal.
"These assholes again?" From the War Rig's passenger window, Husk emerged with holy rifle. "Can't a cat get peace anymore?"
The first shot from his rifle punctuated his complaint, striking a Buzzard rider square in the chest. The impact sent the Hellhound rider flying backward off his bike, which careened into another attacker.
"Nice shot for a drunk cat!" Loona called out, before firing her own weapon at an approaching buggy. The blast caught its driver in the face, sending the vehicle spinning out of control.
"I aim better drunk, princess!" Husk retorted, chambering another round. "Helps with the shakes!"
The convoy had shifted formation, with the War Rig at its center like a massive fortress on wheels. The Nomad Hellhounds circled it protectively, their own weapons blazing at the encroaching Buzzards. But the raiders kept coming, seemingly endless, their war howling echoing across the wasteland.
"Hold on!" Hati warned, before executing a perfect power slide that brought them alongside a Buzzard bike. Loona didn't hesitate – she fired point-blank into the rider's skull-mask, the impact shattering bone and metal alike.
"Damn, shorty!" Hati whooped as they straightened out. "You ain't playing!"
"Less talking, more driving!" Loona snapped back, but there was a hint of a grin in her voice. The adrenaline was pumping now, making everything sharper, clearer. A massive Buzzard truck suddenly loomed beside them, its sides lined with rotating saw blades. From its roof, raiders began hurling explosive spears that detonated on impact.
"OH COME ON!" Husk's voice carried over the chaos as he had to duck back inside to avoid the explosions. "Who gives these psychos military-grade ordinance?"
"Welcome to the Limbo, old man!" Hati laughed, weaving through the debris. "Loona! In the left saddlebag! Fire grenades!"
Loona found them – crude but effective devices.
"You sure about this?"
"Trust me!"
She pulled the pin and hurled one at the truck's massive wheels. The explosion sent liquid fire cascading across its side, igniting the fuel tanks. The resulting explosion lit up the wasteland like a second sun.
"FUCK YEAH!" Several Nomad Hellhounds cheered in unison as the burning wreck careened off course.
But their celebration was short-lived. More Buzzards were appearing, including a monstrous vehicle that looked like it had been built from the skeleton of an ancient demon beast. Its jaw-like front opened and closed mechanically, trying to bite chunks out of the War Rig's armor.
"We got problems!" Dakota's voice crackled over the radio clipped to Hati's jacket. "They're trying to box us in! Leading us toward the Dead Zone!"
"Oh heaven no!" Hati growled, then shouted to Loona. "How many shells you got left?"
Loona checked quickly. "Three! Make them count?"
"Always do, shorty! Always do!"
They accelerated toward the beast-vehicle, dodging its attempts to snap them up. Husk provided covering fire from the War Rig, his holy rounds punching holes in its armored hide but not stopping it.
"Aim for the jaw hinges!" Hati called out as they made another pass. "Them's always the weak spot!"
Loona took careful aim, waiting until they were almost close enough to touch the monstrosity. The first shot hit the left hinge, cracking it. The second shot shattered the right. The mechanical jaw hung loose, sparking and grinding.
"Last shell!" she warned.
"Make it count, shorty!"
They swung around for one final pass. The beast-vehicle's driver was visible now, a massive Buzzard whose skull-mask was decorated with glowing runes. He was screaming something in a language that sounded ancient and wrong. Loona's last shot caught him right between the eyes. The beast-vehicle swerved violently, its ruined jaw dragging in the dirt before it flipped, taking out several smaller Buzzard vehicles in its death throes.
"Now THAT'S how we do it in the waste!" Hati's tail was wagging furiously as they pulled back alongside the War Rig.
"Yeah, yeah, very impressive," Loona rolled her eyes, but she was grinning too. "Now what?"
"Now?" Hati revved his engine. "Now we show these Buzzard fucks why you don't mess with Nomads!"
"We got more incoming!" Dakota's warning crackled over the radio. Through the storm of dust and debris, dark shapes were emerging – dozens of them, vehicles modified beyond recognition into instruments of war.
"Fuck me, how many of these assholes are there?" Loona growled, clicking the empty shotgun in frustration. A Buzzard bike screamed past them, its rider hurling what looked like barbed chains toward the War Rig. The weapons caught on the massive vehicle's side, and more raiders began using them as makeshift grappling lines.
"Shit's about to get real messy," Hati observed as the first Buzzards started climbing the chains like demented spiders. Their skull masks gleamed in Hell's red light, decorated with fresh war paint and blood.
Loona's eyes caught something – a curved blade strapped to one of the fallen Buzzard's backs, its edge gleaming with unholy runes. Without hesitation, she leaned down and snatched it up, testing its weight. The sword hummed in her grip, almost alive.
"Hati! Get me to the War Rig!"
"What?" He twisted to look at her like she'd lost her mind. "The fuck you planning?"
"Someone's gotta get these fuckers off before they breach the hull!" She gestured at the raiders scaling the vehicle's sides. "And I'm all out of bullets!"
"That's straight suicide, shorty! You ain't—"
"You got a better idea?" Loona snarled, baring her teeth. "Because I'm seeing a lot of criticism and zero solutions right now!"
Hati was quiet for a split second, then barked out a laugh. "Fuck it! You're crazy as shit, you know that?"
"Yeah, yeah, just drive!"
Hati gunned the engine, weaving through the chaos toward the War Rig. The massive vehicle's armor was holding, but Buzzards were swarming over it like ants, trying to find weak points. Some were already reaching the roof, their weapons glinting.
"Get me alongside!" Loona shouted, rising to a crouch on the bike's seat, the stolen sword ready. "Steady... steady..."
"Girl, you better not die!" Hati called back. "I just started liking you!"
"Shut up and drive!"
They pulled alongside the War Rig just as a particularly large Buzzard noticed them. His skull mask was decorated with what looked like holy steel, and he brandished a pair of hooked blades.
"NOW!"
Loona launched herself from the bike, catching a hanging chain and using her momentum to swing up. She hit the War Rig's roof rolling, coming up just in time to parry the Buzzard's first strike. Loona didn't let him to repeat. She stepped on the roof and headbutted him hard enough to crack his mask, following up with a slash that opened him from shoulder to hip. The Buzzard toppled off the roof with a shriek.
"Say hi to that shaman." She growled, spitting blood.
More raiders were climbing up, their weapons a nightmare collection of wasteland engineering. One carried what looked like a chainsaw welded to a spear. Another had modified his arms with mechanical claws.
"Come on then!" Loona snarled, falling into a fighting stance. The stolen blade sang in her hands, its runes pulsing with each movement. "Let's see what you got, hound brothers!"
The first Buzzard rushed her with his chain-spear, the weapon's teeth shrieking. Loona deflected it with her blade that she stole from their lair before, the impact sending sparks flying, then countered with a kick that caught him in the knee. As he stumbled, she spun past his guard and took his head clean off.
"Anyone else?"
The mechanical-clawed Buzzard attacked next, his augmented limbs leaving deep gouges in the War Rig's roof. Loona danced backward, analysing his movement pattern. The claws gave him reach, but they were slow, predictable.
"Gonna be hard to do that!" Loona smirked, "Without your fucking hands!"
She feinted left, then dropped and slid right as he committed to his attack. The stolen sword flashed once, twice – and both mechanical arms fell useless, sparking and leaking hydraulic fluid. The Buzzard stared at his ruined limbs for a moment before Loona's boot caught him in the chest, sending him flying off the roof.
From somewhere below, she heard Hati whoop in appreciation. "DAMN, SHORTY! You ain't playing!"
"Less cheerleading, more covering fire!" She shouted back, already engaging the next attacker. This one wielded what looked like a modified street sign as a blade, its edge sharpened to razor precision.
The fight became a blur of motion and instinct. Loona moved across the War Rig's roof like a dancer, the stolen sword becoming an extension of her will. Years of I.M.P. experience mixed with pure survival instinct as she fought off raider after raider.
A Buzzard with twin knives managed to score a hit, opening a shallow cut along her arm. Loona responded by catching his next strike between her teeth, literally, then driving her blade through his throat. Another tried to tackle her from behind; she used his momentum to throw him into two of his companions, sending all three tumbling into the wasteland.
"Incoming!" Husk's voice carried from below, followed by the boom of his holy rifle. A Buzzard who had been trying to flank Loona suddenly sprouted a smoking hole in his chest. "You're welcome, kid!"
"I had him!" She protested, even as she kicked another raider off the roof.
"Sure you did!" The cat called back.
More Buzzards were appearing on the roof, but now Loona had found her rhythm. The stolen blade moved like quicksilver. She was vaguely aware that she was grinning, showing far too many teeth, probably looking as feral as the raiders she was fighting. A particularly huge Buzzard climbed up, carrying what looked like a whole motorcycle engine that had been converted into some kind of club. His skull mask was massive – possibly from some kind of demon whale – and decorated with glowing sigils.
"Oh, come on!" Loona actually laughed, adjusting her grip on the sword. "Now you're just trying too hard!"
The giant roared and charged, his weapon leaving dents in the War Rig's roof. Loona waited until the last possible moment before side-stepping, letting his momentum carry him past. But the Buzzard was faster than he looked – he reversed his swing instantly, nearly catching her.
"Not bad," She admitted, testing his defenses with a quick series of strikes. The sword sparked off his armor but couldn't find purchase. "But let me guess – you skipped leg day?"
Before the giant could respond, Loona dropped and swept his legs out from under him. As he stumbled, she rolled between his feet and came up behind him, driving the sword deep into the back of his knee. The Buzzard howled, trying to turn, but she was already moving – running up his back like a ladder and using his shoulders as a springboard.
At the apex of her jump, time seemed to slow. She could see everything – the battle spread out below, Hati and the other Nomads engaging Buzzard vehicles, Husk picking off raiders with surgical precision with his bat. The stolen sword caught Hell's light as she flipped over the giant's head, and for just a moment, she felt truly alive.
The blade took the giant's head off as she landed. His massive body stood for a moment, swaying, before toppling off the War Rig like a felled tree. Just in time, Octavia opened the hatch to see how is going outside.
"Loona?" She called out.
"Now that," Loona panted, flicking blood from the sword, "Was fucking therapeutic." She then glanced at peeking Octavia. "Sup, birdy."
Her response was an bullet nearly hitting her, causing Octavia to retreat back inside. Loona victory was short-lived. In the distance, something was approaching – something big. The ground itself seemed to tremble as it drew closer, and even the Buzzards paused in their assault.
"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Loona muttered as the new threat emerged from the wasteland haze. "Hey Hati! You ever see anything like that before?"
"AW HELL NO!" Hati's voice carried equal parts awe and terror. "That's a fucking War Machine!"
Through the dust storm, a nightmarish vehicle was approaching – a massive tracked fortress that looked like it had been built from the remains of a dozen smaller vehicles. Its front was a grotesque face of metal and bone, with multiple cannon barrels protruding from its "mouth" like teeth. The whole thing moved on tracks that could have come from a tank, and its sides bristled with weapons.
"Well," Loona adjusted her grip on the bloody sword, managing a feral grin despite her exhaustion, "This just got interesting..."
The War Machine's first shot nearly took out half the convoy. A massive blast of hellfire and shrapnel erupted from its cannon-mouth, forcing Skoll to wrench the War Rig into a desperate evasive maneuver that sent everyone scrambling for handholds inside.
"HOLD ON TO SOMETHING!" Skoll's voice boomed through the War Rig's speakers as the massive vehicle lurched.
Loona dug the stolen sword deep into the roof for anchorage, her claws scraping metal as she held on.
"Any bright ideas?!" She shouted toward the cabin.
"WORKING ON IT!" Skoll called back, wrestling with the controls as the War Machine bore down on them. The monstrous vehicle was picking up speed, its tracks throwing up clouds of dust and bone fragments.
From his position at the passenger window, Husk took aim with his holy rifle. The shot struck true – and bounced harmlessly off the War Machine's armor.
"Well, that's just fucking perfect!" the cat growled, ducking back inside as return fire peppered their position.
"Yo, check it!" The radio crackled to life with Hati's voice "That thing's running on some serious hellfire power – see them vents on the sides? Bet if we could get something explosive in there..."
"Great plan!" Loona shouted back sarcastically, still clinging to the roof. "Just one tiny problem – WE'RE OUT OF FUCKING EXPLOSIVES!"
"Not exactly!" Dakota's voice cut in. "Remember them Buzzard spears? The ones that went boom?"
"Shit, that's right!" Hati's excitement was palpable. "Skoll! We need to pull back, let some of them Buzzards catch up!"
"You want MORE of these psychos?" Husk demanded incredulously.
"Trust me on this!" Hati insisted. "Loona! You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Loona watched as several Buzzard vehicles started gaining on them, their raiders brandishing more of those explosive spears. A savage grin spread across her face.
"Oh yeah. This is gonna be fun."
Skoll eased off the accelerator just enough to let the first wave of Buzzards draw closer. The War Machine was still pursuing, its massive form eating up the ground between them, but now they had something to work with.
"NOW!" Hati gunned his bike toward the nearest Buzzard vehicle. Loona tensed, then launched herself off the War Rig's roof just as a raider prepared to throw his spear.
Time seemed to slow as she flew through the air. The Buzzard's skull mask turned toward her, his arm drawing back for the throw. But Loona was faster. Her stolen sword flashed once, taking his arm clean off at the shoulder. She caught the spear as it fell, tucked into a roll as she hit the Buzzard's vehicle, and came up running.
"CATCH!" She hurled the spear toward Hati, who snatched it out of the air with a whoop of triumph.
"That's my girl! Dakota! Marcus! You know what to do!"
The other Nomads were already moving, executing similar maneuvers to steal more spears. Soon they had a small arsenal of the explosive weapons, but the War Machine was still gaining.
"Whatever you're planning," Skoll's voice crackled over the radio, "Do it fast! This bitch is trying to ram us off the road!"
The War Machine's front weapons opened up again, the multiple cannon barrels spewing death. One shot caught a Nomad's bike, sending rider and vehicle spinning into the wasteland. Another nearly took out Hati, who only survived by dropping his bike almost horizontal to the ground.
"Alright, listen up!" Hati's voice was all business now. "We hit them vents together – one won't do it, but all of them at the same time?"
"It'll cause a chain reaction," Dakota finished, catching on. "But the timing has to be perfect!"
"And how exactly are we supposed to get close enough?" Marcus demanded, dodging another blast.
"Leave that to me," Skoll's grin was audible in his voice. "Everyone get ready to move on my mark!"
The War Rig suddenly slowed, its massive form swinging around in a move that seemed to defy physics. The War Machine's tracks threw up geysers of dirt as it tried to adjust course, but its own momentum worked against it.
"NOW!" Skoll roared.
The Nomads moved as one, their bikes screaming toward the War Machine from different angles. Loona watched from her commandeered Buzzard vehicle as Hati led the charge, the stolen spear held ready.
Time seemed to stretch like taffy as the Nomads closed in. The War Machine's weapons blazed, filling the air with death, but somehow they all made it through. Loona caught glimpses of it all – Hati's face set in determined concentration, Dakota's fur streaming in the wind, Marcus saying what might have been a prayer.
"FOR THE PACK!" Hati's voice rang out, and as one, they threw their spears.
The explosions started small – just pinpricks of fire as each spear found its mark in the War Machine's vents. But then the chain reaction began. Fire raced through the vehicle's hellfire systems, turning its own power against it. Secondary explosions bloomed like deadly flowers, and the massive machine began to break apart.
"GET CLEAR!" Skoll's warning came just in time.
The War Machine's final death throes were spectacular. Its entire form erupted in a massive fireball that lit up the wasteland like a second sun. Pieces of armor and weaponry went flying in all directions as the behemoth literally tore itself apart from the inside. When the dust finally settled, the remaining Buzzards were already retreating, their war cries turning to sounds of dismay as they watched their ultimate weapon reduced to burning scrap.
Hati pulled his bike alongside the War Rig, where Loona had managed to climb back aboard. His fur was singed and his bandana was definitely ruined, but his grin was wide as ever.
"So," he called up to her, "Still think we're just some basic MC?"
"Shut up." Loona rolled her eyes, but she was grinning too. "That was actually pretty impressive."
"Pretty impressive?" Hati clutched his chest in mock offense. "Shorty, we just took down a fucking War Machine! That's legendary status!"
"Yeah, yeah," she tried to sound dismissive, but couldn't quite hide her smile. "Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late!" Hati laughed, then turned serious for a moment. "For real though – you threw down like a true Nomad up there. That sword work? Straight fire!"
"If you two are done with your little moment, can we please get the fuck out of here before more of these psychos show up?" From the War Rig's passenger window, Husk's voice carried up
"Man, let us have this!" Hati protested. "We just made wasteland history!"
"Yeah, well, 'history' usually means 'everybody died,' in my book." Husk retorted, but there might have been a hint of respect in his voice. "And I ain't dying in this shithole. Let's move!"
The convoy reformed, battered but triumphant. As they continued their journey, Loona caught herself humming something under her breath. It took her a moment to realize what it was – that stupid "Nomads 4 Life" chant the Nomads always used.
"Don't you dare say anything," She warned Hati, who was definitely smirking.
"Wouldn't dream of it, shorty," he replied innocently. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The War Rig thundered on through the wasteland, leaving the burning wreckage of the War Machine as a testament to what happens when you mess with the wrong pack. And if anyone noticed Loona's tail wagging slightly as they rode, well... they were smart enough not to mention it.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Somewhere in Outer Limbo Wasteland/The Outskirts of New Limbo/
Finaly...at long last.
The first glimpse of Little Limbo emerged from the wasteland haze like a fever dream – a sprawling neon oasis that somehow managed to be both gaudy and majestic. Massive billboards sporting Goetian sigils in electric blues and crimsons proclaimed "Welcome to New Limbo - The Biggest Little City in The Limbo!" while holographic demons danced across their surfaces, eternally beckoning travelers toward promises of vice and fortune.
"Well damn," Loona muttered, taking in the sight from the Hati's bike. "You guys weren't kidding about the Greed vibes."
But as they drew closer, the glamour of the entertainment district stood in stark contrast to the military preparations surrounding it. Freshly dug trenches carved angry lines through the wasteland soil, while prefabricated bunkers dotted the landscape like steel mushrooms. Construction demons labored alongside what seems to Militech corporate units, reinforcing defensive positions and establishing killzones with mines and traps.
"I.R.A's got everyone spooked," Hati observed grimly, his bike keeping pace with the War Rig. "Never seen Little Limbo this buttoned up before."
The defensive complex grew more elaborate as they approached the main gates. Artillery positions had been carefully concealed among the dunes, their barrels tracking the convoy's movement until recognition signals were exchanged. Magical wards shimmed in the air – nearly invisible unless you knew what to look for, but powerful enough to turn unwanted visitors into ash.
"Halt and identify!" The command rang out as they reached the checkpoint, delivered by a figure. The Ars Goetia demon stood ramrod straight in his pristine white coat and tricorn hat, musket held at perfect parade rest. His uniform might have appeared absurd if not for the obvious power radiating from his form and the very real authority in his bearing.
Hati pulled up to the checkpoint, offering a casual salute that somehow managed to be both respectful and irreverent. "Roads are shit in the basket," he reported matter-of-factly. "Marchosias will brief the Governor personally on the details."
The demon's posture remained formally rigid, but something in his eyes suggested he was used to the Nomads' particular brand of protocol. He studied their battered convoy, gaze lingering momentarily on the fresh battle damage and Loona's blood-spattered form.
"Encountered resistance?" he inquired, voice clipped and proper.
"You could say that," Hati's grin showed too many teeth. "Left most of it burning about fifty miles back."
The guard's expression didn't change, but there was a slight nod of professional appreciation. He turned smartly on his heel, calling out to his fellow soldiers: "Open the gates! Convoy authenticated!"
The massive gates began to part with a sound like distant thunder. Beyond them, Little Limbo's true scale became apparent. Casino spires wrapped in neon stretched toward the crimson sky, their architecture a mad fusion of classical Goetian design and modern excess. Pleasure palaces and gaming houses competed for attention with magical displays that would have put Las Vegas to shame, while the streets below teemed with demons from every circle of Hell.
But even here, the signs of coming conflict were evident. Militech Military patrols alongside Ars Colonia's line infantry moved with purpose through the crowds, their white coats stark against the neon atmosphere. Strategic choke points had been reinforced, and anti-aircraft batteries were visible on certain rooftops, disguised as architectural features but ready to rain death at a moment's notice.
"Well," Loona commented as they passed through the gates, taking in the contradiction of decadence and preparation, "This should be interesting."
"Oh shorty," Hati laughed, but there was an edge to it, "You don't know the half of it. Welcome to Little Limbo – where the party never stops, even when war's knocking at the door."
The gates sealed behind them with a final, resonant boom, and the convoy moved deeper into the city that seemed to exist in two states at once – endless celebration and grim preparation, with no one quite sure which would win out in the end.
The convoy wound its way through Little Limbo's main thoroughfare, a stark contrast between the neon-drenched modernism of the city and their rugged, battle-worn appearance drawing curious glances from locals and tourists alike. The War Rig's massive form commanded respect, smaller vehicles instinctively making way as it thundered past gaudy casinos and opulent hotels.
But their destination rose above the city itself. A fortress-castle that seemed to reject the city's neon embrace. Its black stone walls, weathered by countless ages, absorbed light rather than reflected it. Architectural elements that predated even some of Hell's oldest records twisted up its sides, creating patterns that hurt the eyes if studied too long.
"Ain't she something?" Hati called out over the engine noise, noticing Loona's studied observation of the structure. "Been standing since before anybody can remember. City just kind of... grew around it."
The castle's approach was notably free of the entertainment district's chaos. Here, the roads took on a more militant organization, with clear lines of sight and defensible positions carefully maintained. Ars Colonia guards in their distinctive white coats stood at regular intervals, their muskets and more modern weaponry suggesting a fusion of tradition and practicality.
As they approached the castle's main gates, Other Nomad Hellhounds appeared at various posts and positions, their familiar leather cuts standing out among the formal military uniforms.
"HEY, OUR BROTHERS ARE BACK!" The welcome call boomed down from above.
"NOMADS 4 LIFE, HOMIES!" Hati and his crew responded with equal vigor, their voices echoing off the ancient stones.
The War Rig ground to a halt in the castle's massive courtyard, its engine ticking as it cooled. The space was a hub of activity – Nomad Hellhounds mixing with military personnel, supply crews moving equipment, and the general organized chaos of a fortress preparing for potential siege.
"Alright people, let's move!" Hati called out as he dismounted his bike. "Dakota, get those supplies logged. Marcus, tell Desdemona to make sure the War Rig gets a full maintenance check – she earned it today."
From within the War Rig's armored bulk, the passengers began to emerge. Husk descended first, riffle somehow still in hand despite the day's chaos, his wings flexing after the long confinement. Striker followed, helping Bombproof down with surprising care given his usual demeanor.
Octavia emerged next, her royal bearing evident even after the gruelling journey. Her Lady-in-Waiting, Olivia, stayed close, fussing over her charge's appearance while simultaneously scanning the place with practiced ease.
"Easy, easy!" Millie's voice carried as she helped Moxxie navigate the War Rig's steps. Her husband's injuries made the simple task a careful operation, his face tight with controlled pain. Schmucks also helped Millie out to carry Moxxie outside.
Loona also got herself out from the bike. She watched the group assemble, noting how quickly the courtyard's personnel moved to assist – Nomad Hellhounds helping with supplies and equipment from the War Rig.
"Welcome to Marchosias Castle." Hati announced, though his usual joking tone was replaced with something more formal. "First line of defence against whatever the I.R.A.'s cooking up." He turned to the assembled group, his ears perked with alertness despite his casual demeanor. "Try not to break anything here – some of this shit's older than Limbo itself."
"Ahem"
The ambient noise in the courtyard suddenly dropped, replaced by a respectful hush that spread like a wave. From the castle's main entrance emerged a figure that commanded attention without effort seems like leader of the Nomad Hellhounds.
He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, each step purposeful and measured. Like Loona, his hellhound features were striking, but years of wasteland life had left their mark in the network of scars visible through his white fur. He wore a simple leather jacket adorned with minimal patches, the wear on it speaking of countless battles. Two swords crossed his back – one silver, one steel, both bearing runes that pulsed with ancient power.
His red eyes, sharp as blade points, took in the scene with practiced efficiency. There was something almost paternal in his bearing, despite his warrior's presence. When he spoke, his voice was a graveled rumble that somehow managed to carry without being raised:
"I see my brothers have been busy."
"Cyrus!" Skoll practically bounced forward, his usual stoic demeanor cracking with excitement. "You won't believe the shit we pulled off, White Wolf! Got the Goetias through clean, took down a war party of Buzzards, AND destroyed their War Machine!"
"Hmm." A slight raise of Cyrus's eyebrow was his only immediate reaction.
"So..." Skoll fidgeted like a kid asking for dessert, "Since we did such a good job, maybe we could...you know...hit the pub? Just to celebrate?"
Cyrus studied him for a long moment, his expression unchanging. Then, with the slightest hint of amusement, he gets his voice to be know.
"Fine. But remember what happened last time."
"YES!" Skoll was already turning, practically vibrating with joy. "First round's on me!"
"Hati." Cyrus's voice stopped the younger hellhound before he could follow his brother. "You're responsible for getting him back in one piece. No repeat of that incident."
"That was ONE time..." Hati's ears drooped slightly.
"Hmm." Cyrus's attention shifted, landing on Loona with the weight of careful assessment. "And who's this?"
"Oh!" Hati perked up, rushing to Loona and grabbing her arm to make her move closer, but Loona just yanked her arm away from him. "This is Loona – you should've seen her during the Buzzard fight! Total badass, let me tell ya!"
Cyrus moved forward with that same predatory grace, circling Loona in a way that managed to be both analytical and slightly unsettling. His nostrils flared as he caught her scent, and something flickered in those eyes.
"Beelzebub's stench," he noted, his tone neutral. "City Hound."
"Got a problem with that?" Loona met his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated.
"Hmm. Spine. Good. You'll need it." The corner of Cyrus's mouth twitched – might have been a smile, might have been a grimace. He then turned slightly, casting his gaze over the assembled group – the injured, the tired, the battle-worn. His next words carried the weight of someone who had seen too much of Hell's bullshit. "Rest. Recover. Tomorrow comes soon enough, and with it...Well. Tomorrow has its own troubles."
"Real cheerful, boss," Hati quipped, but there was respect under the humor.
"Hmm." Cyrus started to turn away, then paused, looking back at Loona. His eyes fixed on the sword across her back, and the temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop several degrees. "That blade. Where did you get it?"
"Looted" Loona shot back, her hackles rising at his tone. "From a Buzzard Lair who won't be needing it anymore."
"You think this is funny?" Cyrus's expression darkened, a low growl building in his throat. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly more predator than patriarch. "That's not just some trophy. Those runes – they're Hellhound script. Ancient. Sacred. Our people's history written in steel and blood."
"Well, it's mine now," Loona bared her teeth. "So fuck off."
The courtyard went deathly quiet. Even the ever-present winds seemed to hold their breath.
"Typical," Cyrus spat the word like venom. "City Hounds. Taking what isn't yours to take, not even bothering to learn their meaning." His claws flexed unconsciously. "And now you stand here, flaunting your ignorance like a badge of honor."
"Listen here, you self-righteous—" Loona started, her own claws extending.
"Enough you two!" Octavia's voice cut through the tension like a blade. The young royal stepped between them, her presence somehow matching Cyrus's intimidating aura despite her smaller stature. "This helps no one. We're all allies here."
"I agree with my friend. Perhaps we should remember who we truly are."
A new voice rang through the courtyard, resonant and commanding despite its youthful tone. The sound announced the arrival of Marchosias, his form magnificent and terrible in equal measure.
The Marquis of Hell descended from one of the castle's towers, his appearance striking an imposing figure. Surprisingly, especially for Loona, this Goetia was an...Hellhound. Like literal Hellhound but in typical Goetian fashion. Like Loona and Cyrus, he is an wolf-like Hellhound, also having a white fur with same pattern as Loona. For an Goetia, he is rather...down to...Hell. If he didn't wear any noble clothings, many would have mistaken a normal typical Hellhound.
Yet despite his fearsome appearance, there was an undeniable nobility in his bearing, and his eyes held wisdom that belied his apparent youth. He stood as tall as any of the Goetic nobles, but his mannerisms carried the energy of someone who had grown up alongside Octavia's generation.
Upon seeing Octavia, Marchosias's entire demeanor softened. With practiced grace, he shifted his form, taking on a more approachable appearance while maintaining his noble bearing. He bowed his head deeply.
"Marquise Octavia," He greeted, his voice warm with genuine pleasure. "It brings me immeasurable joy to see you safe within these walls."
"Marquis Marchosias. It's been far too long." Octavia stepped forward, a rare smile gracing her features.
"Indeed it has," He straightened, though his head remained slightly inclined in respect. "And might I offer my sincerest congratulations on your ascension to Spirit status? Though I deeply regret my absence during such a momentous occasion—"
"Oh, spare me the formal apologies," Octavia waved off his concern with familiar ease. "The whole thing was an absolute shitshow anyway, March. Though I suppose that's rather fitting for Ars Goeta, isn't it?"
"Eh, it sure does." Marchosias's laugh held genuine amusement. His attention turned to Olivia, and he offered another respectful bow. "And Lady Olivia, your continued dedication to our Marquise Phenex brings honor to your position. The courts of Marquisate are richer for your presence."
"And now I serve to Lady Octavia, Lord Marchosias." Olivia curtsied perfectly, though there was a hint of knowing amusement in her expression – as if sharing some long-running joke with the Marquis.
Prince Gaap stood at the periphery of the courtyard, his aristocratic features set in careful neutrality. There was no reaction when he saw Marchosias...a simple brow raise and that only lasted few seconds for him.
"Ah, Prince Gaap," Marchosias called out, offering a courteous bow. "What a pleasure to see another newly elevated member of the Ars Goetia within these walls. Your father would be proud to see how far you've come."
Gaap's smile was a masterpiece of courtly facade – perfect in its execution yet wholly devoid of warmth. His eyes, typical of Goetian nobility, held something that flickered between disdain and barely contained fury.
"The pleasure is mine...Marchosias," He replied, each word precisely measured. The slight pause before addressing Marchosias without his title was subtle enough to be dismissed as accident, yet deliberate enough to be noticed. His fingers, twitched almost imperceptibly as another group of Hellhounds passed nearby. "Though I must admit. This is an rather...charming castle of yours...though your choice of courtiers is...exotic, to say at least."
A low growl rumbled from some of the nearby Hellhounds, but Gaap acted as if he hadn't heard it. Octavia also noticed Gaap's barely concealed hostility, but before she could speak, Marchosias smoothly interjected.
"Why thank you. This castle is actually was an old Calderis Forst before it turned into border City. When Ars Colonia set it footstep, they used this place as government seat before building an proper parliament in Central New Limbo City" His tone remained perfectly courteous, though there was steel beneath the civility. "And now this is once more a main castle for defence."
"Indeed..." Gaap's smile remained fixed, but his eyes blazed with something hateful. His aristocratic composure cracked just enough to reveal the depths of his contempt. "How... fortunate we are to have such a strong...marquise like you among Ars Goetia, Marchosias."
"Much appreciated." Marchosias again courteously bowed his head. Finally, he then turned to address the tense standoff between Cyrus and Loona. His expression remained carefully neutral, but there was an underlying strength to his words that demanded attention.
"So I was saying before, Cyrus," He spoke with measured calm, "While your dedication to our ancient ways is admirable, perhaps we should remember that all children of the moon are siblings under Hell's crimson sky." His gaze shifted to Loona, studying her with interest rather than judgment. "Whether they were born to the wasteland or the city streets, the moon's blessing flows through their veins all the same."
"You don't understand, Marchosias." Cyrus's scoff cut through. "These city Hellhounds sell their own fangs to Beelzebub for a taste of her cotton candy promises. No respect for heritage, no—""
"My friend," Marchosias interrupted gently, "Perhaps instead of focusing on what divides us, we might seek to understand what brings us together." His eyes held a patient wisdom. "After all, resentment is a poor advisor when wisdom is needed most."
"Understand?" Cyrus's fur bristled. "She looted this sacred blade from a Buzzard's lair! Probably doesn't even know which end to hold properly..."
"May I?" Marchosias turned to Loona, gesturing to the sword with elegant courtesy. "If you would permit me to examine it?"
Loona hesitated for a moment, then carefully unsheathed the blade. As she handed it to Marchosias, Octavia stepped closer, a knowing smile playing at her lips.
"And here comes the archaeologist in him," She whispered loudly enough for others to hear. "Better get comfortable – we might be here a while."
Marchosias only smirked but paid no attention to the gentle teasing, his entire focus captured by the weapon in his hands. His eyes widened as he traced the runes with one claw.
"By the Howling Moon!" He breathed, voice thick with wonder. "This... this is impossible. These maker's marks, the runic patterns..." He looked up, his eyes blazing. "This blade belonged to Alpha-Khan Lycaon himself!"
The name sent a ripple through the assembled Hellhounds. Even Cyrus's aggressive stance faltered.
"You sure?" Octavia asked, also somewhat surprised that they found this relic...rather easily.
"After Lycaon's death," Marchosias continued, clearly in his element, "When the great Hellhound Hordes fractured into Warlord bands, this sword passed to one of his Lesser Khans...and now it's here in my own paws." He turned to Loona, his expression earnest. "I would be willing to offer you 100,000 souls for this piece. It belongs in here, where I can properly studied it and—"
"Two hundred thousand. No lower." Loona cut in, her business instincts cached on immediately. Blitzo would be so proud of her.
"You dare to haggle with Lord Marchosias over a—" Cyrus exploded, his fur standing on end.
"Done," Marchosias said simply, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"You can't possibly—" Cyrus looked like he might spontaneously combust.
"My friend. Would you not say that recognizing value is itself a form of respect?" Marchosias's voice carried that same gentle authority, "Our young friend here may have come by this blade through unconventional means, but she clearly understands worth when she sees it. And sometimes, that's where true appreciation begins." He then nodded to Loona. "I understand your position and I respect your decision to sell me the sword. Regardless, you did good, my sister of Moon. Out of all my heart, I thank you for bringing the relic of Hellhounds."
Loona felt her ears flatten slightly against her head, a strange warmth creeping up her neck at Marchosias's appreciation. There was something about the way he spoke – that perfect blend of authority and kindness – that made her usual sharp tongue tie itself in knots. She found herself awkwardly adjusting her stance, trying to maintain her tough exterior while fighting the inexplicable urge to wag her tail.
"I—" she started, then cleared her throat, annoyed at her own reaction. "Whatever."
The sword's runes pulsed one final time in Marchosias's hands, as if acknowledging the transaction, while Cyrus stood there, looking like he'd just bitten into something particularly sour. Loona, for her part, couldn't quite hide her satisfied smirk – though she found herself once again awkwardly averting her eyes when Marchosias smiled in her direction.
"Marchosias," Octavia's voice cut through the lingering tension, her tone shifting from casual to concerned. "While we're here... could you take a look at Moxxie? One of those Buzzard bastards got their teeth into him."
The change in Marchosias was immediate. The scholarly excitement over the ancient blade vanished, replaced by focused medical attention. Without a word, he handed the sword back to one of Hellhound passer-by and moved swiftly to where Moxxie sat propped against some supply crates, Millie sitting anxiously at his side.
Moxxie's breathing came in harsh, irregular gasps, his face shining with fever sweat. The wounds across his face were an angry red, the flesh around the puncture marks swollen and discolored. Millie and Olivia had done their best to clean and bandage them, but even through the dressings, the damage was clearly extensive.
"Easy now," Marchosias murmured, his voice gentle as he knelt beside Moxxie. His clawed hands now moved with delicate precision as he carefully tilted Moxxie's head to examine the wounds. "I need to look at these bites."
Moxxie tried to nod, but even that small movement seemed to cause him pain. Millie squeezed his hand, her own knuckles white with worry. Marchosias slowly peeled back one of the bandages, his expression growing more grave with each revealed injury. The puncture wounds were deep, showing the typical savage pattern of a Hellhound's bite, but the tissue around them had taken on an unhealthy purple tinge.
"Is... is he going to be okay, my lord?" Millie's voice trembled slightly.
Marchosias shook his head slowly, though not in defeat. "These Buzzard bites... they're notorious for infection. Could be anything from Pneumonia to Syphilis or worst case: Rabies – Raider Hounds not exactly known for their dental hygiene." He looked back, his voice taking on that natural commanding tone again. "Cyrus, get him to the medical wing immediately. He needs clean water with bandages and plenty of them."
"As you wish" Cyrus, all previous antagonism forgotten in the face of a medical emergency, moved forward without hesitation.
"Careful with his head," Marchosias instructed as Cyrus gently lifted Moxxie. "The fever's making him disoriented."
Octavia stepped forward, concern evident in her features. "How bad is it, truly?"
Marchosias straightened, his ears adjusting thoughtfully. "I'll need to brew some specific medications for this type of infection. The good news is, the infection is relatively in early stage." He placed a reassuring hand on Millie's shoulder as she made to follow Cyrus. "He'll need rest – lots of it – and careful monitoring. But with proper care..." He offered a small, encouraging smile. "Imps are resilient creatures."
"I'll help with his care," Millie declared, her earlier fear transforming into determined resolve. "Just tell me what to do."
"Of course," Marchosias nodded. "For now, try to keep him comfortable and make sure he drinks whenever he's conscious. I'll have the first batch of medicine prepared within the hour."
Cyrus gathered Moxxie in his arms with unexpected gentleness, the imp's labored breathing echoing in the courtyard. Millie followed close behind, her usual fierce demeanor softened by worry as she followed The White Wolf toward the medical wing.
"Rest well, proud son of Imperious," Marchosias murmured, watching them disappear into the fortress. He turned back to the others, his expression growing more serious. "News travels fast in these lands – word of the train's derailment reached us quickly. That's why I dispatched Cyrus's riders to find you...though I had hoped the Heir of Inferno wouldn't be delayed by such... complications."
Octavia's shoulders tensed, her feathers drawing closer to her body – a gesture of discomfort she'd inherited from her father.
"Charlie was with us when it happened, Marchosias. We... we lost her in the chaos." Her voice caught slightly. "With the Buzzards hunting us, an Exorcist trying to put a blade on us, and Moxxie bleeding out, I—" She straightened, though the weight of the decision clearly still haunted her. "I had to make the call. We couldn't stay to search."
Marchosias closed his eyes, a deep sigh escaping him.
"When Amy hears of this...Heads will roll in Ars Colonia, quite literally I fear." He shook his head slowly. Marchosias then eyes opened once more, turning toward Hell's sky. "Hearing that she took down Exorcists before, I'm sure Charlie will manage. She's resourceful when she needs to be. May the Moon guide her safely to our walls.
Shadows lengthened across the courtyard as Hell's eternal twilight deepened. For now, there is nothing really they can do. Best that he will delay giving Governor the news to give Octavia's group some rest for now.
"Everything else – the I.R.A.'s advances, your own goal– it can wait until tomorrow. I'll pass this news to Amy, and she'll make her moves when the time comes. But for now..." He gestured toward the fortress with one wing. His voice softened, taking on that peculiar mix of nobility and genuine warmth that seemed so natural to him. "This castle is your home for as long as you need it. These walls have stood against far worse than what prowls outside the City outskirts."
He turned, gesturing toward one of the grand entrances. "Allow me to show you to your quarters. The east wing has been prepared – the views of Hell's sunrise can be quite spectacular, though I'd understand if rest takes priority over scenery tonight. The kitchens here may not match the royal standards you're used to, Octavia, but I think you'll find our chef's hellfire-roasted meats quite satisfying."
"I'm happy to crash on any bed at this point, March." Octavia sighed.
With that away, Marchosias guided them to their living quarters. The ancient stones of Castle seemed to embrace them as they entered, its corridors lit by ethereal flames that cast no shadows, walls adorned with tapestries depicting ancient battles. Behind them, the Ars Colonial guards doubled their watch in presence of young Marquis. As they walked, Marchosias glanced sideways at Octavia, his scholarly curiosity evident.
"Did you notice anything... unusual about the Buzzards?" He asked, his voice carefully measured. "Any behaviors that seemed out of the ordinary?"
"Can't say I did, though I've never encountered them before." Octavia shook her head, her boots clicking against the stone floor. "We stumbled upon their lair while seeking shelter from the storm." She cast a glance at Loona. "That's where she found the sword. But the strange part was, they didn't attack immediately."
"Oh?" Marchosias's ears perked forward with interest.
"There was this... shaman-looking Hellhound who appeared first," Octavia continued, her feathers rustling at the memory. "She just stood there, staring at Loona. Started growling, and then..." She snapped her fingers. "All heaven broke loose. The whole pack came at us like they were possessed."
"Ah," Marchosias nodded, as if confirming something he'd suspected. "Not surprising, really. The Buzzards maintain a network of underground warrens across the wasteland – safehouse tunnels where they can hide during the day. They prefer to hunt and raid under the cover of darkness." His wings shifted thoughtfully. "The shaman you saw was likely their Vicar: meaning "Moonseeker" from the ancient Hellhound dialect."
"But what exactly are they?" Octavia pressed. "I mean, beyond being obviously hostile."
Marchosias sighed, his expression growing more somber. "Like the Nomads I employ, they're Hellhounds from various backgrounds. But while my Moon brothers and sisters have adapted to the changing times, the Buzzards..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "They cling to what they see as the 'pure' old ways. They dream of returning to the glory days when Hellhound hordes were feared across Hell itself." A shadow passed across his features. "When they brought even the mighty Ars Theurgia Goetia to their knees."
"Typical savage behavior," Gaap interjected, his cultured voice dripping with disdain. "Hellhound barbarity knows no limits—"
"No, my Prince," Marchosias cut him off, his tone remaining diplomatic but firm. "What you see as savagery has deeper roots. Generations of oppression have driven some Hounds to desperately cling to their past, seeking vengeance for wounds that have never truly healed." His fire eyes seemed to burn brighter. "Grudges born from centuries of persecution don't fade easily, especially when some continue to fan those flames with their prejudice."
Gaap's perfect posture stiffened even further, but he held his tongue, though the barely contained rage in his eyes spoke volumes.
"The Buzzards believe they're keeping their culture alive," Marchosias continued, gesturing to a tapestry they passed – this one showing Hellhound warriors charging against ranks of ancient Imperians. "They see themselves as the true inheritors of Lycaon's legacy. And while their methods are... extreme, their pain is real enough." He glanced at Loona. "Which is probably why they reacted so strongly to seeing one of city hounds."
The corridor opened into a wider gallery, moonlight streaming through tall windows. Marchosias paused, looking out at the wasteland beyond the fortress walls.
"We can't move forward while clutching so tightly to the past," he said softly, almost to himself. "But we can't forge a new future while ignoring the wounds that brought us here." He turned back to the group, his diplomatic mask returning. "But those are thoughts for another time. Your rooms are just ahead."
The wing Marchosias had provided was a testament to the fortress's hidden luxuries. Behind its militant exterior, Castle harbored comforts that could rival some of Hell's finest hotels. The living room alone was massive, with vaulted ceilings and elaborate stonework that spoke of ancient craftsmanship. Magical flames danced in wall sconces, casting a warm glow over plush furniture and intricately woven rugs.
"Sweet Moon above," Octavia breathed, taking in the space before unceremoniously collapsing onto a massive leather couch. "Finally..."
Marchosias smiled at her evident relief. "The kitchen is fully stocked, though I'll have the servants bring up something hot shortly. Each bedroom has its own washroom, and the water is heated so enjoy it." He gestured toward various corridors branching off the main space. "The rooms are yours to choose as you see fit."
"Marchosias," Octavia lifted her head slightly from the couch, her voice thick with genuine gratitude. "Thank you. For everything."
"Anytime, my friend." The Marquis simply nodded, his eyes warm. "Get some rest – you've more than earned it."
With a final bow, he departed, leaving them to settle into their temporary home. The moment the door closed behind him, the formal atmosphere dissipated. Octavia watched as Loona's eyes followed Marchosias's departure, the hellhound's ears perked forward with unusual attention. A knowing smile tugged at her beak.
"So," she drawled, "What do you think?"
"Cool castle, I guess," Loona responded absently, still staring at the doorway where Marchosias had disappeared.
"That's not exactly what I meant." Octavia's smirk widened.
Loona's ears flattened as she snapped out of her daze, her hackles rising defensively. "What's your point?"
"Oh, nothing," Octavia singsonged, pushing herself up from the couch with newfound energy. She stretched her arms, before just crashing her face against the pillow. "Nothing at all."
Loona only made a slow shake of her head, seeing where this was going. In the meantime, Husk immediately made his way to the kitchen, his wings rustling with purpose.
"If anyone needs me, I'll be seeing what kind of booze our gracious host keeps stocked." The sound of cabinet doors opening followed his declaration.
"Some things never change," Striker grumbled, though there was almost fondness in his tone. He chose an armchair near one of the room's large windows, positioning himself to keep watch on both the entrance and the wasteland beyond. His rifle never left arm's reach.
Shmucks clustered near another seating area, still maintaining his dread over loosing his friend.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Husk called from the kitchen. "Relax before I pour this entire bottle of... whatever this expensive shit is... that Corporation gives you."
Olivia had already begun a methodical inspection of the wing. She moved from room to room with practiced efficiency, checking exits, sightlines.
"The master bedroom at the end of the east corridor would suit you best, my Lady," She reported, returning to the living room.
"Sold," Octavia mumbled into the couch cushions, though she made no immediate move to actually get up.
Prince Gaap stood apart from the others, his aristocratic bearing somehow making even exhaustion look elegant.
"I trust the accommodations are... adequate," he said, managing to make it sound like both a question and an insult. "Though I suppose beggars can't be choosers in our current situation."
"Yeah?" Husk emerged from the kitchen, bottle in hand. "Feel free to fuck off back to the Buzzards if it ain't up to your standards, Your Highness."
Gaap's golden eyes narrowed dangerously, but before he could respond, a knock at the door announced the arrival of servants bearing trays of food. The aroma of hellfire-roasted meats and freshly baked bread filled the air.
"Food first. Arguments later." Olivia began efficiently directing the servants, ensuring everything was properly arranged. "And my Lady, you do have to eat something before you pass out." She added without looking at Octavia,
A muffled groan from the couch was Octavia's only response.
Looks like it's back to being an Ars Goetian noble.
At Least One Hour Later
As the evening wore on, Octavia's team gradually dispersed to their chosen rooms. Striker maintained his position by the window, apparently content to take first watch despite the fortress's security.
Husk, having thoroughly inspected the kitchen's alcohol selection, settled into a corner with his bottle and cards, occasionally shooting suspicious glances at Gaap, who had claimed one of the master bedrooms with all the entitlement of his royal breeding.
Later that evening, Octavia sat in one of the plush armchairs in her designated room, having finally shed most of her armor. The pieces lay scattered around her like metallic breadcrumbs. She didn't have any energy to be diligent due to exhaustion and Olivia was busy trying to fix her own hair into bum, while wearing nothing underwear and bra since her dress at this point destroyed due to how...much she had to rip apart for makeshift bandages.
Octavia stared at her phone's screen, thumbs hovering uncertainly over the keyboard. Since Little Limbo is the only place where...her phone properly worked. Now she wants to send a message to Stolas that she is with Marchosias right now, safe and sound. The question is...should she tell him everything?
"Olivia?" she called out, making her Lady-in-Waiting stop with her hair. "Do you think I should tell Dad about... you know, the train? And the Raiders? And that Exorcist who wanted to turn Gaap into a feathered pincushion?"
Olivia left the mirror and joined Octavia on the bed, her movements graceful despite her own evident fatigue. She considered the question carefully, absently straightening a pillow as she thought.
"While I always advocate for honesty... perhaps we should consider your father's... tendency toward dramatic responses?"
"You mean like that time I got a papercut and he threatened to declare war on the entire paper industry of Greed Ring?" Octavia groaned, slumping further into the chair.
"Precisely." Olivia's lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. "And this situation is slightly more...serious than a papercut. If Lord Stolas learned that his daughter barely escaped death multiple times in one day..." She left the sentence hanging meaningfully.
"He'd probably reshape the entire Limbo into a giant safety bubble," Octavia muttered. "Or worse, show up here himself and be overprotective of me."
"Perhaps it would be wiser to simply inform him that you've arrived safely at Marchosias's fortress." Olivia pointed out. She moved closer, her voice softening. "It's the truth, after all – just not all of it."
Octavia nodded, finally beginning to type:
"Hey Dad. Made it to Little Limbo - Marchosias has given us an entire wing to stay in his Castle. Everything's fine, so NO NEED to worry or do anything... excessive. Will call when I can."
- Love you.
She showed the message to Olivia, who nodded approvingly. Without duo, Octavia hit send, then tossed her phone aside with a sigh.
"He's going to be insufferable when I finally tell him everything, isn't he?"
"Eh, most likely...can't blame him, though." Olivia agreed, already moving to collect the scattered pieces of armor. "But by then, it will be a story rather than an immediate crisis. And Lord Stolas has always been more reasonable about past dangers than present ones."
"You mean once he's done having a complete meltdown?"
"Naturally." Olivia's smile was both fond and knowing. "To be fair. I imagine most of the Goetic nobles would have completely lost their minds facing what you did today. Can you imagine Duke Sallos dealing with I.R.A. on a speeding train? Or Countess Andromalius trying to survive a train crash and fending off Buzzards?" She shook her head, her silver hair catching the dim lamplight. "Half of them would just fall to their knees and start screaming in existential agony."
"I handled it... surprisingly well, didn't I?" Octavia snorted at the mental image.
"More than well," Olivia confirmed. "You were practically born for this kind of adventure."
"The company helped," Octavia said softly, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I'm not sure I could have handled any of it without you, Charlie, and Loona there. Probably would have had that existential breakdown you mentioned somewhere between the train explosion and the Buzzards trying to turn us into dinner."
Olivia blushed at the praise, absently fiddling with one of her bra straps as she gathered her thoughts. Her voice grew more serious. "About that... once you and Prince Gaap leave Little Limbo to search for the Book of Solomon, you know I'll need to stay behind." She met Octavia's eyes. "I'm not... I'm not a fighter, Via. These days made that perfectly clear."
"That was always the plan," Octavia assured her quickly. "I wouldn't dream of dragging you into more danger. Besides," she added with a small smirk, "I'm sure Marchosias will appreciate having such cultured company around his fortress."
Olivia's embarrassed expression shifted into something more sultry, a knowing glint in her eye. "Oh, I think Hellhounds might appreciate my company even more."
"Oh, I'm quite sure about that," Octavia said with a knowing grin, watching as Olivia's feathers ruffled slightly at the teasing.
To her surprise, Olivia then leaned forward and planted a gentle, graceful kiss on her cheek. The gesture carried a mix of gratitude and deep affection that made Octavia's heart warm.
"Thank you," Olivia whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For bringing us through this alive and well. I know it couldn't have been easy."
Before Octavia could respond, Olivia's demeanor shifted immediately, her professional "Lady-in-Waiting" persona sliding back into place with practiced ease. She wrinkled her nose delicately. "Speaking of 'well,' my lady, you are currently neither clean nor presentable. You smell of smoke, blood, and who knows what else from that ghastly train incident. I believe a shower is in order."
"I know what you're implying, and no – you're not going to wash me, Olivia." Octavia rolled her eyes, a blush creeping across her cheeks.
"Oh? As if that's ever stopped me from properly serving you before," Olivia teased, already heading toward the bathroom. She pushed open the ornate door, then froze in place. "Um...Via? You need to see this."
"What's wrong?" Octavia asked, pushing herself up from the chair with a groan. Her muscles protested the movement after finally getting comfortable.
"Quite the opposite," Olivia called back, amusement clear in her voice.
Joining her at the bathroom door, Octavia's eyes widened. The bathroom was more luxurious than she'd expected, even for Marchosias's tastes. A massive jacuzzi dominated one corner, with an elegant rainfall shower mounted above it. But what caught her attention was the small table next to it, upon which sat a bottle of deep red wine and two crystal glasses.
"Well," Octavia said, fighting back a laugh. "I suppose Marchosias really does think of everything."
"And you know what I'm thinking right now?" Olivia whispered, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she leaned against the doorframe, silver hair falling across one eye...not to mention one of her bra straps fell down...
Octavia looked at her grinning Lady-in-Waiting, taking in the mischievous glint in her eyes. After everything they'd been through – the train fight, the crash, the Buzzards, the endless running and fighting, Octavia found she didn't have the energy to maintain any pretense of being...typical herself.
"You know what?" Octavia sighed, running a hand through her disheveled feathers. "Fuck it. I'm tired, I'm pissed off, and I honestly don't care anymore." She gestured at the jacuzzi with a weary wave. "Jacuzzi time it is. For both of us."
"I was hoping you'd say that, my lady." Olivia's grin widened as her bra fell of already.
Olivia didn't waste any time and moved with practiced efficiency, adjusting the jacuzzi's settings until steam rose invitingly from the surface. The soft blue lighting beneath the water cast gentle ripples across the marble walls as it filled. She poured two generous glasses of wine, setting them within easy reach of the tub.
Soon enough, with every piece of clothing gone, they both slipped into the warm water, sighing in unison as the heat began to work its magic on their tired bodies. Octavia settled against one side, letting her head fall back against the cushioned edge, while Olivia gracefully positioned herself opposite.
"Oh, fuck yeah." Octavia groaned, feeling months of tension – not just the past two days – beginning to melt away. "After Aunt's bath time you and I had...I think I need this more than I realize."
"What can I say, Lady-In-Waiting must know how to please her lady." Olivia murmured, passing one of the wine glasses to Octavia. She took a slow sip from her own, closing her eyes in appreciation. "Though I must say, when Phenex told me to become your servant. I didn't expect you fighting off Raiders and some rebels."
"Welcome to my new normal day of being Goetian Spirit, Olivia." Octavia chuckled darkly, watching the ripples dance across the water's surface. She also poured some of the water into palm and let it fall on her shoulder. "Though I have to admit, the accommodations are a definite improvement over sleeping in that abandoned station."
"True" Olivia slowly nodded, stroking some of the feathers on her neck for little massage.
The warm water lapped gently around them, washing away the grime and sweat of their journey. Bruises they hadn't even noticed acquiring began to make themselves known as the heat drew out the soreness.
"Your father would be proud, you know," Olivia said softly after a comfortable silence.
"You think so?" Octavia asked, her voice smaller than usual, more vulnerable than she typically allowed herself to be.
"Of course. I told you already how you handled everything. The leadership you showed." Olivia swirled her wine thoughtfully, her expression growing more serious. "And speaking of tomorrow, you should probably prepare yourself for quite the political shitshow."
"Why?" Octavia lifted her head from the jacuzzi's edge, brow furrowing
"Well," Olivia began, adjusting her position in the warm water, "While I may be 'just' your humble servant, I do hear things. Phenex has been... particularly chatty lately about the situation here back before I was reassigned."
"Oh?" Octavia leaned forward, interested. When Olivia gathered intelligence, it was usually worth hearing....and 1000% times reliable than Gaap's scheming.
"Ars Colonia has always been more of a... hit and miss project, to put it diplomatically." Olivia's voice took on the careful tone she used when discussing delicate political matters. "Duke Barbatos's management style has been... well, 'lacking' would be the kindest way to phrase it."
"How bad are we talking?" Octavia asked, taking another sip of wine.
"Bad enough that even Asmodeus has complained, and you know how rarely he bothers with anything outside the Lust Ring." Olivia shifted, causing small waves to lap against the jacuzzi's sides. "From what I've heard, Barbatos has been treating this place less like a proper territory and more like a "Money laundering" machine. The infrastructure is crumbling, the local demons are restless, and don't even get me started on the security situation – as we've already experienced first hand."
"Wonderful." Octavia groaned, sinking deeper into the water. "So tomorrow I'll be dealing with an incompetent duke on top of everything else?"
"My advice?" Olivia leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near-whisper despite their private setting. "Be extremely cautious around Barbatos. He may be incompetent at governing, but he's survived this long for a reason. You'll likely have to handle most situations yourself – don't expect much actual help from his part."
"And here I was hoping for at least one day without political maneuvering," Octavia muttered into her wine glass.
"For what it's worth," Olivia brightened, setting her wine glass aside, "I've heard rather impressive things about President Amy – the 58th spirit of the Ars Goetia. Apparently, she's quite remarkable: brilliant, beautiful, and remarkably efficient as Little Limbo's mayor. She's the main reason this place transformed from a modest colonial settlement into a proper city."
"Oh?" Octavia smirked over her glass. "Sounds like someone's eager to get to know Amy well."
Olivia chuckled, gliding through the warm water toward Octavia. "While I'm sure Amy and I would get along splendidly, I find myself far more interested in what's right in front of me." She moved with fluid grace until she was beside Octavia, wrapping her arms around her mistress' shoulders. "Especially when said person gets so adorably nervous around my teasing."
"You're such a tease," Octavia grumbled, though she made no move to pull away.
"What can I say? A girl loves to play dangerously every now and then. And after the past two days, I'd say we're both quite good at that." Olivia's beak curved into a knowing smirk as she leaned closer, her whisper carrying a hint of playful danger.
Octavia chuckled softly, her own arm draping comfortably around Olivia's shoulders. "I have to say, I'm incredibly glad to have you as my servant. Both amazingly capable and..." she gave Olivia a sidelong glance, "surprisingly rebellious when it comes to me."
"Mmm," Olivia hummed contentedly, reaching for her abandoned wine glass. "And I'm thoroughly enjoying every moment of it." Her feathers brushed against Octavia's as she raised her glass, the blue light from the jacuzzi catching the crystal and sending prismatic reflections dancing across the marble walls. "A toast, then?"
"To what?" Octavia asked, lifting her own glass with an amused smile.
"To your health and glory, my lady," Olivia said with a playful formality that couldn't quite hide the genuine warmth in her voice. She held her glass out, the wine dark as blood in the dim light. "May all your enemies be as easily dispatched as today's were. To you, Marquise Octavia of House Octavia."
"And to you, Lady Olivia of House Focalor."
Their glasses clinked together, the sound echoing softly in the steamy air. Sharing the drink, they settled into a comfortable silence after their toast, the warm water lapping gently around them. The soft blue glow of the jacuzzi mixed with the dim lamplight from the bedroom, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere that felt worlds away from the chaos they'd survived.
Olivia let her head rest against Octavia's shoulder, feeling the tension of the past two days finally beginning to fade. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges – dealing with Barbatos, navigating Little Limbo's politics, and continuing their dangerous quest for the Book of Solomon. But for now, in this peaceful moment with her most trusted companion, none of that seemed to matter.
The wine, the warmth, and the quiet companionship worked their magic, and for the first time since leaving home, both princess and servant could truly relax. Whatever Hell had in store for them could wait until morning. In Marchosias's fortress, high above the glittering lights of Little Limbo, two souls found their sanctuary – if only for a night.
...
As War slowly brings it's ugly foot on Little Limbo.
Chapter 37: The Joys of Ars Goetian Civilization
Summary:
"You can forgive a fool because he only runs in one direction and doesn't deceive anybody. It's the deceivers who make you feel bad." - Charles Bukowski
Notes:
Hey there. Before you start to read the chapter, I ask you to not scroll down yet and focus on me here.
Behind the scene...well the chapters, I mean, I work the plotline concepts for Episode 5 (Yes, I know 4 is not finished but I usually come with plotline way ahead. I know how this fanfic ends but I'm brainstorming for plotline of Episode 5 and what exactly will happen there)
You see, Episode 5 is planned to be an sort "Late-Game plotline" (With Episode 6 being final one) and Episode 5 with 6 will try to close the arcs of ALL characters that appeared in the story. I'm however an staunch believer of "Two heads is better than one" concept and I know that some of you would want to see the scenes or ideas that I'm sure I do not think about it at this very moment.
Like for example: say you want to see Archangels from Episode 1 and 2 back or you want to see Seven Deadly Sins more. That kind of stuff. Maybe you want to see Barbie Wire more but I do hope you get what I mean.
That's why while I'm busy with Episode 4, I offer you (If you have spare time or care enough to do it) to provide some ideas/feedback/criticism to me/my fic directly.
You can do by:
1) AO3 review. Frankly if you saw my fic's comment section, you already know how much GuestReader5 and I talk to each other, but don't be shy with reviews, I try to respond as quick as possible. The only time I don't respond is when I forgot or...forgot :/
2) Trough Discord. My username is maxiguy and you can add me freely anytime. Or if you want to hang out or talk shit, then add me aswell.
3) Trough Gmail. I know some famous writers did like that in their own fics and if some of you want that option, then I'm not against it if you write me directly. My Gmail is [email protected] and I try to respond as soon as possible.
Like I said, this is an complete optional thing but I do appreciate if you will have spare time. In case that won't be anything, then no worries with that.
Anyway, sorry for inconvenience and let's go back to the program. See you next time!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
October 5, 2025, AD (89 Days Before The Next Purge), 9:21 AM.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle
Morning light worked through the ornate curtains, casting a soft, golden light over the sumptuous bedroom. Tucked in amidst the plush bedding, Octavia lay sleeping , relaxed in a rare moment of untroubled rest. A slight smile played at the corners of her beak as if , even in sleep, she was savoring the safety and security of Marchosias' fortress.
It was in this serene setting that Octavia finally stirred , eyelids fluttering open as the morning light coaxed her out of her sleep . For a moment, she was totally lost as to where she was, but then yesterday's events came flooding back —all of it seemed now like a distant, waking dream. Frankly, now she just wanted to go back to sleep .
"Pluck my feathers ... should have slept more." Octavia yawned, stretching her arms and her back. No point of return at this point .
She looked around, realizing she was alone. Turning her head to see if her friend Oli was somewhere nearby , Octavia spotted a folded piece of paper resting on the nightstand. Reaching out, she picked it up and immediately recognized Olivia's elegant script.
"Good morning, Octavia,"
"I do hope you're feeling more rested after our... eventful evening yesterday. I'm afraid I couldn't resist the opportunity to let you sleep in for once. Ars himself knows you deserve the rest."
"As much as I'd love to let you and myself laze about all day, I'm afraid duty calls. If you don't see me with you, I've gone to assist Marchosias with a few matters - nothing too strenuous."
"You should prepare herself to meet with Duke-Governor Barbatos sometime today. Thanks to yours truly, everything is prepared in the closet near the table."
"Amy herself will come for you so try to enjoy your morning in the meantime. You've more than earned it."
"And don't forget to say hi to me ;)"
Your Oli
XOXO
P.S: On a lighter note, I must say you looked adorable when you "hooted" in your sleep. I almost didn't have the heart to leave your side.
"Leave it to Olivia to be both infuriatingly practical and hopelessly romantic," Octavia smiled, imagining the look on Olivia's face as she wrote those lines.
She shook her head fondly, carefully folding the paper and setting it back on the nightstand. But nevertheless, Olivia is right. Hence, untangling herself from the bedding, Octavia stretched her arms over her head, feeling the warm caress of the morning sunlight on her bare feathers on her body. A contented sigh escaped her as the last remnants of sleep faded, replaced by a renewed sense of focus.
Reluctantly, She slipped out of the bed, her talons soundlessly padding across the plush carpeting. Crossing the room, Octavia approached the ornate wardrobe. Pulling open the double doors, she surveyed the array of elegant gowns and ensembles Olivia had meticulously prepared. Her lady-in-waiting's attention to detail was evident in the way each piece was carefully arranged and maintained.
"Hmm" Octavia's fingers trailed over the fine fabrics, considering her options. From what she learned from Olivia, Octavia knew she needed to present a poised and confident façade, especially for her impending meeting with Duke-Governor.
...
But fuck it.
Octavia instead selected her old clothing, a pink sleeveless dress with yellow stars, black feathery cardigan and of course the the crown of marquise given by Phenex.
"Not great, not terrible." Octavia admired herself. There, just as Octavia is. The outfit was both stylish and practical and it's not too much.
Next, she turned her attention to her hair and feathers. Since Olivia is busy, she smoothed down the errant strands by herself, meticulously grooming each feather until her appearance was nothing short of impeccable. Satisfied with her reflection, Octavia took a deep, steadying breath. Whatever the day might bring, she was now prepared to face them head-on. Her father's daughter through and through once more,
Squaring her shoulders, Octavia headed for the door, As she stepped out into the hallway, she noticed that it was still relatively early. The fortress seemed quiet, with most of her companions likely still asleep in their rooms. Striker, Husk, and Loona were nowhere to be seen - no doubt resting after the they went trough with Octavia.
Octavia's thoughts was interrupted by the sound of movement coming from the direction of the kitchen. Curious, she made her way down the hallway, following the faint aroma of brewing tea. There, Octavia found Olivia, her lady-in-waiting, bustling in kitchen. Olivia's silver hair was neatly tied back and she got a new dress, less regal than previous but still decent. Beside her, Gaap sat at the small table, sipping a cup of tea and staring at Octavia with an unreadable expression.
"Good morning, my lady," Olivia greeted warmly upon spotting Octavia. "I do hope you slept well. I took the liberty of preparing a light tea - I imagine you'll need your strength."
"You always know just what I need." Octavia couldn't help but smile at Olivia's thoughtfulness, though she couldn't help but glance warily at Gaap, who instead just grinned back...mockingly or in amusement...unknown.
"Of course, Lady-In-Waiting always aims to anticipate your needs before you even realize them yourself." Olivia said with a knowing grin. She poured a fragrant, steaming cup of tea, handing it to Octavia. "Now, tell me, how are you feeling? Rested, I hope?"
"Better than I have in days, thanks to your obsession with bathing." Octavia nodded, taking a sip of the delicate brew. Her gaze softened as she met Olivia's eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Olivia."
"What a charmer." Olivia's expression turned slightly mischievous. "Though I must say, you do look positively regal this morning. I see you did your hair by yourself. Hm, could use some improvements but great nevertheless."
"Uh-huh, thanks." Octavia rolled her eyes good-naturedly, though a faint blush crept across her cheeks. Before she could respond more properly, Gaap cleared his throat, drawing both women's attention.
"Ah, yes, the genuine 'lesbian moment' I'm so fortunate to witness with my own eyes. How... heart-warming." Gaap said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin on his face. "Looking at two of you, It's quite interesting to see how much attention you shower on your dear Olivia, Octavia. I wonder what the implications could be."
"Get lost, Gaap," Octavia snapped, her grip tightening around her teacup in irritation. It's probably a new record of "How short time can Gaap piss-off Octavia?" at this point.
"I'm afraid your input is neither required nor appreciated, Your Highness," Olivia said coolly. Unlike Octavia, Olivia, however, remained unfazed, merely raising a delicate eyebrow at the prince. To her credit, she handles it quite well from blatant mockery.
"My, my, how rude." Gaap chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. "And here I was hoping for a more friendly 'good morning' from you, Octavia. Something like, 'Hey, Gaap. How's the tea? Did you sleep well?'" He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Alas, I suppose I'll have to settle for the 'heartwarming' display I've been granted instead."
"My fist into your face would be a decent 'good morning' from me, Gaap," Octavia returned that sass back.
Gaap tsked, shaking his head in disappointment. "Now, now, Octavia, let's not be so hostile. I don't really care where you 'rub yourself,' as it were. I simply expect a bit more cordiality from you, especially after the agreement we made."
"We didn't shake on any agreement, Gaap." Octavia muttered as her eyes narrowed.
"Oh, but my dear, you did give me a chance, after all." Gaap replied smugly. "And after all of the juicy gossip I have revealed to you, I expect a little more trust in return. That is all I ask.
"Gossip? What does he mean, Octavia?" Olivia furrowed her head as she looked at Octavia.
Octavia opened her lips to speak, but Gaap interrupted her.
"Ah, Lady Olivia, are not you quite the curious one? I assume it is because Marquise-Elector Phenex instructed you to snoop more, hmm?"
"I can promise you, Prince Gaap, that my curiosity is my own. I am just concerned about Octavia's well-being, as any faithful companion would be." Olivia's hand clenched slightly at the insinuation, but she straightened up.
"How... noble of you." Gaap grimaced, setting his teacup down with a sharp clink. "I guess I should not be surprised, given your close friendship with the Marquise."
"...excuse me?" Olivia repeated, not understanding what the fuck Gaap wants from her.
"Tell me, Lady Olivia," Gaap's demeanour changed, from ridicule to something more cunning. "What exactly did Marquise-Elector Phenex intend when she transferred you as Octavia's Lady-in-Waiting?"
Olivia stayed silent, her movements careful and perfect as she focused on preparing another pot of tea for Octavia. The faint clink of porcelain against metal was the only sound to break the strained silence. The answer was already clear to her...but not to Gaap, it appeared.
"Your silence speaks for itself, my dear." Gaap continued, his voice sounding almost philosophical. "You see, Octavia, in the Ars Goetia, 'good intention' does not exist. Every move, appointment, and seemingly generous gesture is planned. Do you understand the purpose of Ladies-in-Waiting? He leaned forward, his eyes filled with sinister enjoyment.
Octavia opened her beak, ready to tell Gaap exactly where he could shove his implications, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.
"Let me tell you a delightfully tragic tale about our dear friend Valac. You see, he once received a Lady-in-Waiting from Count-Elector Morax." Gaap's smile grew wider, more predatory, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Poor Valac was quite taken with her. Had his way with her, as demons do." He paused, letting the implications hang in the air. "And do you know what happened a week later? They found him with his throat slit from ear to ear, and that lovely Lady-in-Waiting?" He clicked his tongue. "Why, she simply returned to Morax, mission accomplished."
"That 'Lady-in-Waiting' was a wretched scum whom the rest of us despised," Olivia's voice cut through the tension like ice, her silver hair catching the morning light as she turned to face Gaap. "She was no true Lady-in-Waiting, merely a common assassin playing dress-up. Don't conflate her actions with our duties."
"Oh, duties? Such pretty excuses you weave, Lady Olivia." Gaap's smile only widened, his eyes glittering with malicious amusement. He then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Then perhaps you can explain why you've been so... exceptionally kind and flirtatious with our dear Octavia from the very beginning?" He gestured between them with one clawed hand.
"Knock it off, Gaap!" Octavia warned, already getting enough of him.
"It's quite impossible, you know." Gaap didn't even flinch at Octavia, ignoring her completely. "Such immediate devotion, such careful attention – especially considering your previous position as Marquise-Elector Phenex's own Lady-in-Waiting. One might think you're following a very specific set of instructions."
"I believe I should check if Marquis Marchosias is ready for breakfast," Olivia set down the teapot with practiced grace, her expression unreadable. Without another word or glance at Gaap, she turned and glided from the kitchen, her footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. The silence she left in her wake was deafening.
"You're a complete asshole, you know that?" Octavia's voice cut through the silence, sharp and venomous. Her talons gripped the edge of the table as she glared at Gaap, feathers bristling with barely contained rage.
"I'm merely trying to protect you from the web you're being drawn into." Gaap raised his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "Though I certainly can't blame you for falling for Olivia's... considerable charms. Those hips alone could start a civil war in Ars Goetia."
"Don't you dare—" Octavia started, but Gaap pressed on.
"I won't because I'm not interested in her." He leaned back, swirling the dregs of his tea thoughtfully. "What I'm interested is her old master, though. Marquise-Elector Phenex is quite the schemer, you know. Cunning doesn't begin to describe her. There have been... whispers, about what really happened when the Exorcists invaded Pandemonium. About Sitri's death." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't you find it peculiar that Phenex was one of the few survivors of the Dis Church attack? Quite... convenient, wouldn't you say?"
"Are you seriously suggesting that Phenex would plot against me after she HERSELF crowned me as Marquise of Ars Goetia?" Octavia let out a mocking snarl, her eyes blazing.
"Think about it more deeply: Phenex is an Elector of Marquises, and you..." Gaap gestured at her with his teacup. "You're a Marquise. It's quite a clear equation, isn't it? You're nothing but a pawn in Phenex's grand game, and that lovely Olivia?" He chuckled darkly. "She's the spy keeping you firmly on your leash."
Octavia just growled in frustration. Nothing that Gaap said to her she didn't want to think even of it.
"What exactly do you want, Gaap? If you're going to sit there and poison every relationship I have, at least have the decency to be direct about your intentions." Octavia demanded, her voice taut with frustration.
"What I want, dear Octavia, is quite simple: a power of doubt." Gaap set his empty teacup down with deliberate care, his expression growing serious for the first time that morning. He held up a finger as Octavia's brow furrowed in confusion. "Don't trust Olivia, don't trust Marchosias, and certainly don't trust any other Goetia demon who crosses your path."
"And why I should I do that?" Octavia dared him to provide an answer that didn't felt hypocritical from him.
"Because I can see exactly where this is heading. Your charming Lady-in-Waiting is playing a very old game. She's working her way into your affections, trying to lower your defenses with sweet words and tender gestures. Making you feel special, wanted... distracted. And when she will try to get her beak between your legs, that's where she will strike. Don't let your guard down just because some pretty bird lady bats her eyes and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Consider it free advice from someone who's seen this particular drama play out countless times before. In the Ars Goetia, affection is just another weapon in our vast arsenal of deception."
Octavia let out a sharp, mocking laugh, her eyes narrowing. Just as she thought.
"Oh, since when did you become the guru of Ars Goetia? Please, enlighten me with your infinite wisdom, O Great and Mighty Prince Gaap," She drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Your parents are a prime example, aren't they?" Gaap's expression darkened, his playful demeanor vanishing entirely, watching as Octavia's smirk faltered. "And unlike you, Octavia, I wasn't sitting in my room listening to depressing goth music and wallowing in teenage angst while the politics of Hell unfolded around me."
He rose from his seat, towering over the table as he delivered his final barb. "To be honest, you would have made a terrible Princess, you know that? Good thing you're just a Marquise instead. At least that position has... lower expectations." A cruel smile played across his beak. "You should really thank me in the first place for what you had become."
"You know what's funny, Gaap?" The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as Octavia slowly rose from her seat. "For someone who claims to be so politically savvy, you seem to forget one crucial detail." She stepped closer, her height matching his as she straightened to her full posture. "I may have spent my time listening to 'depressing goth music,' but at least I wasn't spending it kissing my father's ass and still ending up as nothing more than a glorified errand boy."
"Says the one who bitched and threw tantrums that her daddy dearest didn't let her see Azathoth's tears. Oh, what a boo-hoo, Octavia." Gaap's eyes narrows dangerously.
"Careful, Gaap. I'm not that anymore..." Octavia hissed as she dangerously leaned closer, even her voice is cracking in hatred. "Because that Octavia would ran-off if you mocked her. But THIS Octavia in front you...won't hesitate to break your spine if you bring my father into our conversations."
"Aunt Stella must be feel nice for herself for what you have become..." Gaap grinned even more, daring her to act.
Before Octavia could retort, Olivia's return cut through the tension like a knife.
"My lady." Olivia announced, either oblivious to or tactfully ignoring the charged atmosphere, "Marchosias has prepared breakfast in the main dining hall." She paused, her silver gaze sweeping between them. "He requested everyone's presence... preferably immediately as President Amy will be here soon."
The word 'immediately' carried just enough weight to suggest that any continuation of their argument would have to wait. The tension followed them like a heavy cloud as they walked through the castle's ornate corridors, Olivia leading the way while Gaap and Octavia maintained a distance from each other. Their footsteps echoed against the marble floors, punctuated only by the occasional rustling of fabric.
Not surprising at this point, the main dining hall of Marchosias Castle was a to infernal grandeur. Towering windows of stained glass stretched from floor to ceiling, casting prismatic patterns across the polished obsidian floors. The walls were adorned with ancient tapestries depicting various battles and conquests of Ars Theurgia Goetia, their colors still vibrant despite their age. A massive chandelier crafted from crystallized hellfire hung from the vaulted ceiling, its ethereal light dancing across the room's dark surfaces.
The dining table itself was a masterpiece of glass, stretching nearly the entire length of the hall. Despite its size, only four places were set, each with fine bone china and silverware. At the head of the table sat Marchosias himself, cutting into what appeared to be a perfectly prepared omelette. Beside his plate lay two pristinely clean bones, picked absolutely bare of any meat. He smiled as he noticed their arrival.
"Ah, good morning. I trust you all slept well?" Marchosias greeted them, his deep voice resonating through the vast space. He gestured to the empty seats, where identical omelettes steamed invitingly on fine china plates.
Octavia took her seat to Marchosias's right, while Gaap settled on the left, both of them maintaining their rigid silence. Olivia gracefully positioned herself beside Octavia, just like the etiquette demands to be.
"Yeah, the beds here are... quite comfortable," Octavia responded diplomatically, trying not to stare at the clean bones beside Marchosias's plate, instead delicately cutting into her omelette. "The jacuzzi was quite a surprise, actually."
"Oh yes, it was most welcoming, Lord Marchosias." Olivia chimed in, a slight smile playing at her lips as she glanced at Octavia. "Not to mention it provided rather good company."
Olivia's remark carried a hint of playfulness that made Octavia roll her eyes. Gaap only slowly shook his head, not amused by Olivia's attempts to flatter Octavia. But he remained busy with his own omelette.
"Ah, that was Amy's doing actually." Marchosias let out a rich chuckle, setting down his fork as he wiped his muzzle with a napkin. "She somehow managed to accumulate what she called 'unnecessary money reserves'." He shook his head, clearly entertained by the memory. "And instead of, oh, I don't know, investing it or saving it for emergencies. She decided the best course of action was to 'waste it all' - her words, not mine - on building a jacuzzi." He picked up one of the clean bones, examining it thoughtfully. "Said something about how I needed to 'learn to relax more''"
"Is Amy purposely running some kind of laundering scheme?" Octavia asked, her tone somewhere between amusement and genuine curiosity as she raised an eyebrow. Her fork paused halfway to her beak.
"Nah, not really." Marchosias burst into hearty laughter, he waved his hand dismissively, still holding the clean bone. "Amy is just... being Amy. She has about as much regard for Ars Goetia's laws as a Lust's hurricane does for a 'Keep Off The Grass' sign." He said with obvious fondness in his voice
"How come?" Octavia asked once more before eating the omelette piece.
"You see, Octavia. Amy has this... unique approach to problem-solving. She believes that if you can come up with a brilliant solution, why waste time drowning in bureaucracy? As she loves to say: 'Why spend three months getting approval to build a bridge when you can just build a boat in three days?'"
"Smart girl..." Gaap commented, twirling his fork in thoughts.
"That's just how Amy operates." Picking up his wine glass, Marchosias swirled the dark liquid thoughtfully. "The President of Ars Goetia sees a problem, her mind starts working, and before you know it, she's solved it in some completely unexpected way." He took a sip before adding, "Sometimes that means suddenly having 'extra funds' that need to be spent on luxury amenities, other times it means creating an entirely new trading route that somehow doesn't appear on any official records."
"I'm honestly surprised the Ars Goetia hasn't come down on her for that," Octavia remarked, absently pushing a piece of omelette around her plate. "They're usually not exactly... forgiving when it comes to it. Trust me, I know what shit Electorate can pull."
"I see your reasons." Marchosias's muzzle curved into a knowing smile as he set down his wine glass. "To be honest, it might be because Amy has proven herself more than capable in ways that matter. And frankly, as long as Ars Colonia continues to pour money into Lemegeton's coffers...well, as the humans say - it's free real estate."
"Bruh...you didn't just say that." Gaap was disgusted by Marchosias' use of...human memes.
"Sorry..." Marchosias awkwardly cleared his throat, before deciding to finish his thoughts. "Once she arrives, you'll both see for yourselves just how capable our dear President is." He picked up the second clean bone from his plate, examining it with casual interest.
"By chance, did you tell Amy everything about what happened while we slept?" Octavia asked, her voice dropping lower as she leaned slightly forward. Even now it was hard for Octavia to forget.
"Barely," Marchosias's expression sobered, setting down the bone he'd been holding, his earlier playfulness fading. "I simply informed her that both you and Gaap had arrived in her city and are awaiting her presence here at the castle."
"And that's all?" Octavia questioned March's decision.
Marchosias muzzle twisted into a grimace, seeing he has to tell her.
"There's no need to cause unnecessary panic until we have a better grasp of the situation...not to mention the other problems we're facing from Ars Colonia's side, Octavia. I've been rather preoccupied helping your Imp - Moxxie, was it? His injuries are... worse than I initially thought." He shook his head slowly, his voice growing grave.
The last words hung heavily for her. Octavia's face turned into horror...already regretting leaving her bed.
"Marchosias," Octavia's voice was soft but firm, her eyes fixed on the Hellhound Goetia. "Please be honest with me. How bad is Moxxie's condition?"
Marchosias let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he set down his cutlery. The morning light streaming through the stained glass seemed to dim, as if responding to the gravity of his words.
"Have you ever heard of the Lycaon's Scourge?" He asked, opening his eyes to reveal a haunted look. "Humans had similar plague in their history. Lycaon's Scourge is the Black Death for Hellhound kind. It emerged after the death of Alpha-Khan Lycaon, devastating Hordes. There are various theories about its origins. Some blame Beelzebub, claiming it was Fallen Angel' act "Cease and Obey" act against the Hellhounds. Others say it was the Moon itself, punishing them for their failures." He paused, taking a measured breath. "Whatever the truth, the result was catastrophic."
"As in...?"
"The Scourge nearly drove Hellhounds to extinction - we're talking about a 95% mortality rate. The remaining five percent... Well, they were enslaved, and later -." Marchosias gestured vaguely at himself, leaving the implication hanging. "I'm sure you can piece together that particular chapter of history yourself."
"Shit..." Octavia cursed, feeling ashamed for some reason. Now she sees why Loona was...like that in Buzzard's chambers.
"The good news, if you can call it that, is that we don't know how the Scourge affects Imps." He turned his gaze back to Octavia, his expression softening slightly. "Their anatomy is different enough that there's a chance - a real chance - that Moxxie could recover. That's why I hope-"
*Knock-Knock*
Marchosias stopped himself as a sharp knock came from the dining hall's massive doors. A servant, dressed in Marchosias's colors, entered inside and cleared his throat.
"Your Grace, President Amy Goetia has arrived."
Marchosias rose from his seat with surprising agility, striding toward the doors. As they swung open, Octavia found herself leaning forward slightly, curiosity getting the better of her.
Amy Goetia, the 58th Spirit and President of Ars Goetia, was nothing like what Octavia had expected. Instead of an older, imposing figure draped in ceremonial regalia, there stood a young Australian Firehawk demon who appeared to be around Octavia's own age of 23. Her feathers were a striking combination of burnt orange and deep crimson, with subtle patterns that seemed to shift like living flames.
Most surprisingly, there was no entourage, no fanfare - just Amy in remarkably casual attire: a red trench coat, a flat cap and what appeared to be well-loved combat boots. A far cry from the formal dress one might expect from a President of Ars Goetia.
"Amy!" Marchosias greeted her warmly, his tail wagging slightly. "How was your trip?"
"Very educational." A mischievous smirk played across Amy's beak, her voice carrying a hint of dry humor. "Got to witness some prime examples of fund misappropriation in the road construction sector. The degradation is so bad, I could practically see the money being pocketed with each pothole. Now I've got to either come up with some creative excuses for Barbatos, or...find that construction master and introduce his ass to my boot for his spectacular failure." She paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Though I suppose I should do both, just to be thorough."
"Now, now, Amy," Marchosias chuckled, guiding her toward the table. "Try not to traumatize our civil servants too badly." He gestured toward Octavia with a flourish. "But anyway, may I present Octavia, our newest Marquise of Ars Goetia."
"Why...thanks...um." Octavia rose from her seat, her posture stiff as she struggled with the proper protocol. Should she offer a formal curtsy befitting a President of Ars Goetia? Or perhaps a more reserved noble's greeting? Her internal debate must have shown on her face because Amy just went first anyway.
"New to Ars Goetia's bullshit, huh?" Amy already saw Octavia's rookie behaviour.
"I...I'm sorry?" Octavia raised her eyebrow.
Even more surpassingly both to Olivia and Octavia, Amy just burst out laughing. Gaap, amusingly, watched with great interest to their new comer.
"Oh fuck all that nobility nonsense. That shit's for idiots who think having a stick up their ass makes them important." Amy waved her hand dismissively. She strode forward and extended her hand casually. "I'm Aimee Goetia but you just can call me Amy. I run things around in this City when I'm not busy pissing off the rest of Ars Goetia."
"Octavia: Marquise of...something." Octavia shook Amy's hand...still rather not sure as to...what exactly to say to Amy.
"What?" Amy's grin widened as she noticed Octavia's startled expression. "Were you expecting some stuck-up old bird droning on about 'proper decorum' and 'ancient traditions'? Sorry, girl. But you come into Wrong City. This is New Limbo: Biggest Little City In The Limbo...because we're only city not in ruins in Limbo."
"Told you." Marchosias cleared his throat, amused. "Amy has a... unique approach to her position."
"Cloacakisser, March...but guilty as charged" Amy rolled his eyes. Her eyes then landed on Gaap, and she cocked her head to the side, while taking a bottle of wine to pour for herself. "And you're?"
Gaap chuckled, a smooth smile spreading across his face as he recognized a kindred spirit.
"My, my, what a refreshing presence you bring to our dreary morning." He rose from his seat with theatrical grace, giving an elaborate bow. "I am Prince Gaap of Ars Goetia, Son of Duke Zepar and heir apparent to House Paimon. I must say, it's absolutely delightful to be in the presence of such beauty and—"
"I'm a lesbian." Amy cut him off flatly, taking another casual wine drink.
The abrupt declaration sent Octavia and Olivia into poorly concealed fits of laughter, both of them covering their beaks with their hands as they watched Gaap's practiced charm crash and burn. Gaap's expression did a complete 180, shifting from seductive charm to annoyance n in the blink of an eye.
"Oh, I can already tell what a grand and intriguing friendship this is going to be. Though I suspect someone—" Gaap's gaze flickered briefly toward Marchosias, "—might come to regret introducing us down the line."
"Not 'might,'" Marchosias muttered into his wine glass. "Will definitely regret."
"Aw, don't be like that, Zepar's boy," Amy drawled, swirling her wine with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "I mean, I get it - you're probably used to being the most interesting person in the room, what with that whole 'I'm an prince' aesthetic you've got going." She gestured vaguely at his entire being with her wine glass. "Must be tough realizing you're just another trust fund baby trying to play politics."
"I see someone did their homework before." Gaap hissed very slowly, seeing that he underestimated Amy already.
"As if I don't know what House Paimon breeds these days." Amy's eyes glinted with predatory amusement as she continued, "Though I've got to hand it to you - it takes real talent to fail upwards so spectacularly that you end up as an errand boy for daddy dearest while still maintaining that air of... what should we call it?" She tapped her beak in mock consideration. "Ah yes, 'unearned confidence. But hey, at least you've got that whole 'charming rogue' thing working for you. I mean, sure, it's about as authentic as a circus in Heaven, but it's cute that you're trying."
Gaap's composure cracked just slightly, a muscle twitching in his jaw as Octavia nearly choked on her wine, desperately trying to contain her laughter. Even Marchosias had to turn his snort into an unconvincing cough.
"Now then," Amy straightened up, smoothly changing topics as if she hadn't just verbally eviscerated Gaap's entire persona. She snagged an empty chair, dragging it closer to the table with a casual disregard for decorum that made Olivia wince slightly. Dropping into the seat, she immediately reached for the platter of still-warm omelettes, piling one onto her plate.
"March here gave me the cliff notes version of your little adventure, but I'd rather hear it straight from the source." Her keen eyes fixed on Octavia, cutting into her breakfast with businesslike efficiency. "What exactly happened out there? And don't spare the details – I need to know exactly what kind of shitstorm just into our direction."
Octavia set down her fork, her appetite suddenly diminishing as the memories of the previous day's events came flooding back. She took a steadying breath, grateful for Olivia's reassuring presence beside her.
"It was supposed to be a simple trip." Octavia began, her voice steady despite the weight of the memories. "Princess Charlie and I were on the express train from Acheron to New Limbo. Everything was going fine until..." She paused, her feathers ruffling slightly. "Until it wasn't. We were attacked by I.R.A or something like that."
"Ah, The Infernal Revolutionnary Army. Makes sense, those bastards have been getting bolder lately." Amy said flatly, pausing mid-bite. She gestured for Octavia to continue freely.
"Yes. They hit us hard and fast. Felt like they knew exactly where we'd be and when." Octavia's talons tightened around her wine glass. "The train got derailled and Charlie..." Her voice caught slightly. "Charlie disappeared in the aftermath. I don't know if they took her or if she managed to escape, but..."
"And you made it out how exactly?" Amy asked, her tone carefully neutral as she studied Octavia's face.
"The train..." Octavia's grip tightened on her wine glass, her mind replaying the terrifying moments. "When it derailed, we plunged into a canyon below. Getting everyone we could, we were trying to find our way out of the canyon when we stumbled into something we shouldn't have. A hidden lair, buried deep in the rock walls. The Lair of Hellhound Raiders."
"The Buzzards, Amy" Marchosias confirmed, noticing how Amy's face turned into horror at the name.
"Fuck me sideways," Amy muttered, draining her wine glass in one go and immediately reaching for the bottle. "Are you absolutely certain it was Marchosias' rejects?"
"Hey!" Marchosias was baffled, but Amy showed his palm as she needs to listen to Octavia first.
"Unfortunately, yes," Octavia continued, watching as Amy poured herself another generous serving. "They ambushed us in their lair. It was... intense. We barely managed to fight our way out, but not before—" She glanced meaningfully at Marchosias, who nodded solemnly, understanding her reference to Moxxie's condition. "After that, we were basically lost in the Limbo Wasteland. Just endless expanses of nothing. No landmarks, no signs, just... wasteland. We wandered for what felt like forever, trying to stay ahead while looking for any good shelter."
"Until my scouts found you at that abandoned diner," Marchosias added, his tail swishing thoughtfully. "Though even then, it wasn't exactly a smooth introduction."
"Right," Octavia nodded, a smile crossing her beak. "The Buzzards weren't quite done with us. They launched another ambush on our way with Nomads– guess they really didn't want us making it to New Limbo. But between our group and Marchosias's forces, we managed to fight them off long enough to reach safely."
"And now here you are," Amy leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she processed the information. She shook her head, concern in her voice. "You know, when I woke up this morning, I thought my biggest problem would be dealing with Barbatos's latest material requests. This is..." She gestured vaguely with her wine glass, "This is something else entirely."
"I know it's a lot to dump on you," Octavia started apologetically, but Amy cut her off with a sharp gesture.
"Oh please!" Amy waved her hand dismissively, cutting off Octavia's apology. She set down her wine glass with a pointed clink. "The Buzzards? That's Tuesday for us out here. Everything outside New Limbo's walls has always been a pain in my tailfeathers when it comes to Ars Colonia's attempts at and I quote," she made air quotes with her fingers, "'Bringing The Joys Ars Goetian Civilization.'"
"So Incompetent?" Octavia assumed.
"Oh, you don't know the half of it." Amy's beak curved into a sardonic smile. "Take Hollow Falls, for example. You know how long it took us to even start resettling that old ruined countryside? Two years. Two fucking years of paperwork, politics, and promises." She stabbed her fork into her omelette with unnecessary force. "And what happens? The moment we get demons living there, the Buzzards show up like clockwork. Raid after raid after raid after raid. At this point, I would prefer to abandon that settlement."
"Can't you send colonial forces to—" Octavia began, but Amy's sharp, bitter laugh cut her off.
"Oh honey, I'm the President of New Limbo, not the entire territory of Ars Colonia." Amy's eyes glinted with cynical amusement, she then gestured vaguely toward the window. "Hollow Falls? That's outside my jurisdiction. But hey," her voice dripped with mockery, "why don't you ask our dear Governor Barbatos where all that military funding is going?"
Amy exhaled heavily as she visibly composed herself. When she spoke again, her tone was more professional, a stark contrast to her earlier casual demeanor.
"Look, as much as the Buzzards are a pain in our ass, they're not our primary concern right now." She nodded toward Marchosias. "March here can handle those mangy mutts. He's got experience dealing with his..." She paused, searching for a diplomatic term, "...distant cousins."
"You're an racist..." Marchosias with a grin, not serious at all.
"No, you're racist!" Amy returned the banter, before going back to bussiness. He expression darkened, all traces of her earlier sarcasm vanishing "Jokes, aside. The I.R.A is what keeps me up at night."
"How serious of a threat are we talking about?" Octavia asked, noting the sudden shift in atmosphere around the table. Even Gaap had stopped playing with his food, his attention fully focused on Amy.
"Very serious. This didn't happen overnight, you know." Amy stood up, walking to one of the towering windows. The morning light cast her shadow long across the obsidian floor as she gazed out over her city. "Five years ago, it started small – just vague reports of our Frontier Outposts being hit by some 'militia group.'" She turned back to face them, her eyes hard. "Standard procedure was to send investigators. So we did...and we lost contact. So we sent armed forces to check on both the outposts and the investigators."
"Let me guess," Octavia's voice was quiet. "You lost contact with them too."
"Bingo." Amy's beak twisted in a grimace. "Rinse and repeat. Each time we sent bigger forces, and each time – silence." She walked back to the table, placing both hands on its surface and leaning forward. "But here's the kicker: just yesterday, we lost contact with the Satan's Legion Garrison."
"The one stationed—" Marchosias's ears perked up sharply.
"Miles from New Limbo, yes." Amy's talons scraped against the table's surface. "Which means every major road leading to our city is now potentially under I.R.A control. They've picked off our outposts one by one, and now..." She straightened up, placing her hands on her hips. "Now they've got a clear shot at New Limbo itself."
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of the city beginning its day, blissfully unaware of the threat looming on its horizon.
"And here I thought I'd finally found somewhere safe," Octavia muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
"Hey now, let's not get ahead of ourselves." Amy's tone softened slightly as she caught Octavia's distress. She cant really blame for her for that. Once more, thrist got better of her and she reached for the wine bottle again, topping off everyone's glasses. "I'm not about to start a panic over rumors. New Limbo's walls have stood against worse, trust me."
But something in Amy's expression – a slight tension around her eyes, a certain tightness in her posture – suggested there was more. She swirled the wine in her glass, watching the dark liquid catch the light from the stained glass windows.
"However," She continued, her voice dropping lower, "What happened to your train? That wasn't just some random attack. And it definitely wasn't a coincidence." She set her glass down with deliberate care. "The I.R.A knew exactly where you'd be, when you'd be there, and most importantly – who was on that train."
"And you're suggesting..." Gaap's eyes narrowed, somewhat getting what Amy says.
"I'm not suggesting anything," Amy cut him off, her voice sharp as a blade. "I'm telling you a fact, and it's one that's been keeping me awake for months now." She leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper, yet somehow filling the entire hall.
"There's an I.R.A mole in Ars Goetia."
The words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples of tension through the room. Olivia's hand instinctively moved closer to Octavia's, while Marchosias's fur bristled visibly. Even Gaap's carefully maintained facade cracked, showing genuine concern beneath.
"That's..." Octavia started, then stopped, processing the implications.
"Impossible?" Amy's laugh was hollow. She shook her head, bitter amusement in her eyes. "Honey, we're talking about an organization that's been around since before most of us were even thoughts in our parents' heads. You really think I.R.A haven't figured out how to slip through our ancient illustrious nobility?"
"And how exactly are you so certain about this mole's existence?" Gaap leaned forward, his tone carried a subtle edge, the kind that suggested he might have his own theories about who the traitor could be.
"Oh, I see where you're going with this, pretty boy. Very clever." Amy caught his implication immediately. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her beak as she met his stare head-on. "But let me explain something simple, something that apparently escaped your privileged understanding of how loyalty actually works." She picked up her fork, pointing it at Gaap like a conductor's baton. "Push someone far enough, break them down piece by piece, strip away everything they believed in about the system they served..." She stabbed the fork into what remained of her omelette. "And even the most devoted Goetia will eventually snap."
"You speak from experience?" Gaap's voice dripped with insinuation.
"I speak from observation," Amy corrected sharply. "Think about it - who would have known about that train's schedule? Not just the regular route, but the specific time Princess Charlie would be aboard?" She looked around the table, her eyes landing on each of them in turn. "That kind of information doesn't just float around in casual conversation. It's contained, protected, shared only among those who need to know."
"Like the Electorate..." Octavia's eyes widened slightly, already feeling that...something is not right.
"Maybe." Amy nodded grimly. "All I know that every noble transfer requires multiple signatures, multiple approvals, multiple eyes on the documentation. And every single person who touches those papers?" They're all Ars Goetia's Electroate. Every. Single. Time. So tell me, Prince Gaap, instead of playing your little accusation game, maybe ask yourself - who among our dear colleagues had both the access to that information and enough reason to want to see it all burn?"
"Like you, Amy." Gaap leaned back in his chair, his talons drumming thoughtfully against the table. "My intuitions say the Ars Goetia Electorate is the more likely culprit." His gaze flickered briefly toward Octavia before settling back on Amy, his expression unreadable. "Particularly one specific Elector, if I had to venture a guess."
Octavia narrowed her eyes at Gaap, not liking this. Surprisingly, Amy's brow ridge quirked upward, but she made no move to confirm or deny Gaap's suspicion. Instead, she fixed him with a level stare.
"Perhaps. But frankly, arguing over who the mole might be isn't going to get us anywhere constructive right now." She picked up her fork, stabbing the last few bites of her now-cold omelette. "Better to finish our breakfast and go see Governor Barbatos. As for the Mole...he or she has to wait."
But before she could take a bite, the massive dining hall doors burst open with a resounding bang. Everyone at the table startled, whipping around to see Loona come barreling in, her fur standing on end.
"Octavia! Marchosias!" Loona's voice was tinged with panic as she rushed toward them. "It's Moxxie - he's coughing up blood!"
"WHAT?!" Octavia stood up immediatly, Marchosias too. "Amy, we need-"
"JUST GO!" Amy already saw the message.
Octavia didn't need to be told twice. She shot Marchosias a concerning look before hurrying after Loona, Olivia hot on her heels too. Marchosias spared Amy a nod of acknowledgement before striding out of the room. That left Amy alone with Gaap, whose amused expression had not wavered in the slightest during the commotion. She fixed him with a level stare, her talons drumming against the table.
"Alright, pretty boy, spit it out," Amy demanded. "What's your problem now?"
"Oh, I don't have a problem per se. I'm merely making an... observation." Gaap chuckled, tapping his chin in an exaggerated display of contemplation. "I can see you do an admirable job of playing the benevolent leader, Amy. Manipulating Marchosias, Octavia, and the rest of your little court like so many marionettes."
"Is that so?" Amy slowly turned herself fully to him, placing her hand on her hip.
"You can't fool me. I see the way you move, the way you think. You're no mere figurehead - you're a spider, weaving your web across this entire city. And I know, that you're not just the President of New Limbo."
Amy's posture remained relaxed, betraying no outward signs of alarm or concern. If anything, the corners of her beak twitched upward ever so slightly.
"Oh?" Amy purred, her tone dripping with challenge. "And what, pray tell, am I then?"
"Why, it quite simple, Amy. " Gaap's smile widened. "A Hound in bird's clothing, burrowing your way deeper and deeper into the heart of Ars Goetia. You're what the Electorate fears the most:"
"You're an Notoria."
Amy let out a derisive snort, shaking her head in disbelief. Notoria is an old term for "Traitor" of Ars Goetia, an noble who experiences disloyalty or rebels against the rest of Goetia. There was an time when Ars Goetia experienced the worst time in their history after Theurgia, called "The Long Notorius Hour". Most information is censored and hidden from the rest of Ars Goetia, thus no one really knows who and what was an "Ars Notoria". Only thing known is that they were "Traitors."
"Oh, you really are an imbecile, aren't you, Gaap? An imbecile, and apparently a misogynistic one at that." Amy insulted, showing how it didn't affect her at all. Gaap's eyes narrowed, she she is tough nut to crack. Amy continued without giving him a chance to interject, She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you? That just because I don't fit your precious little vision of what a 'proper' Goetia should be, I must be some kind of spy?"
After the pause, she scoffed, her talons tapping an agitated rhythm against her arm. "Well, let me enlighten you, princeling. You don't have a single shred of actual evidence to back up your pathetic little theory. Nothing but your own biases and wounded ego."
"Don't underestimate me, girl." Undeterred, Gaap leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "I may not have 'evidence' as you so smugly put it, but I've seen the signs. Ars Colonia is rife with Goetias who've shown a 'concerning' level of dissident behavior toward the rest of our illustrious Goetia." He pointed an accusatory talon at her. "And you, Amy. So I'd suggest you watch your step, lest you find yourself in a rather precarious position."
"Oh, is that so?" Amy's beak curved into a sharp, predatory grin. "Well then, I suppose I should be the one to warn you, Gaap." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "You'd better be damn sure of your footing, because if you so much as think about trying to fuck with me..." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "I'll make sure you're the one who ends up in a precarious position. Permanently."
With that, Amy turned on her heel and strode out of the dining hall, leaving Gaap all alone. He watched Amy's retreating back, his talons clenching and unclenching around the arms of his chair. The sheer audacity of her words, her blatant disregard for the hallowed traditions of Ars Goetia, infuriated him to his core.
How dare she - this brash, uncouth upstart - mock the very foundations upon which their society was built? Ars Goetia was the pinnacle of Hell's aristocracy, a bastion of power and wealth. And yet, here was Amy - this so-called 'President' of New Limbo - flaunting her contempt for their ways, rallying others to join her in this despicable rebellion.
Amy, Marchosias, even that bumbling fool Octavia - they were all the same. Goetias who dared to turn their backs on centuries of tradition, who believed they could simply cast aside the rules that had sustained their kind for millennia. They were nothing more than petulant children, stomping their feet and demanding change, heedless of the consequences. These 'dissident' Goetias - Amy and her ilk - were a cancer, festering within the very heart of their society. They thought themselves bold, revolutionary, when in truth they were nothing more than selfish, short-sighted fools.
He would have none of it.
As a Prince of Ars Goetia, it was his duty to uphold the sanctity of their ways, to crush any and all who dared to defy the Legacy of Ars Belial. And if Amy thought she could intimidate him, threaten him into submission, then she was sorely mistaken. Very well, let the rebels blaze their path. But he would be there, waiting at the end, ready to burn it all to the ground.
This war had only just begun.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle/Somewhere In West Wing
Octavia didn't waste a single second, rushing out of the dining hall alongside Marchosias and Olivia, Loona leading the way through the castle's winding corridors. Their footsteps echoed against the ornate marble floors, the sound of their urgency reverberating through the grand halls. As they approached the medical wing, she could already feel dread settling in her chest. Whatever was happening to Moxxie, it must be dire if it had Loona so rattled.
The doors to the infirmary burst open, and Octavia's heart sank at the sight that greeted them. There, lying pale and unmoving on the bed, was Moxxie, his head swathed in bandages. Beside him, Millie sat, her makeup streaked with tears, her face twisted in anguish.
"Moxxie..." Octavia breathed, rushing to his bedside. She grasped his hand, shocked by how cool it felt against her own warm feathers. "What happened?"
"The Lycaon's Scourge does it too him." Marchosias moved to the other side of the bed, his brow furrowed with concentration as he examined Moxxie's condition. He murmured, his voice heavy that Octavia had never heard from the usually steadfast Hellhound. "It's worse than I feared."
"He... he just started coughing up blood, out of nowhere..." Millie looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and desperate. Her voice cracked, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't know what to do!"
"It's alight! Octavia's grip on Moxxie's hand tightened, as if she could somehow will him back to health through sheer force of will. "There has to be something we can do. Marchosias, you said there was a chance—"
"A chance, but no guarantees. I'm doing everything I can, but...unless...wait..."
Marchosias's expression suddenly shifted, a spark of hope in his eyes. The Goetian Hellhound didn't waste his time, already moving to gather various leaves, plants, and other ingredients.
"March?" Octavia asked, glancing at him in confusion.
"Got an idea, might work." Marhcosias was more busy with the table. "Good thing I remember it now. Ancient Hellhounds had an primitive form of medicine called the 'Moonshine'. It's a powerful restorative potion and supercharges the body's immune system, driving it to overdrive in order to fight off even the most virulent of diseases."
"You sure it's our only chance?" Octavia felt it's too much to be true.
"Yes...though with risks, I'm afraid. The problem is, for a Hellhound, the potion is incredibly toxic. Two or three doses is a virtual death sentence." Marchosias gaze flicked to Moxxie's prone form, his expression etched with worry. "But for an Imp...we never had any sources on how it effects on Wrath natives." He trailed off, the implication hanging in the air.
"Then we have no choice like you side..." Octavia moved to Moxxie's side, gently placing her hand on his forehead. Her eyes shifted to Millie. "If there is even the slightest chance it could save him..."
"But what if it doesn't work? What if it..." Loona, who had been standing back, her arms wrapped around herself, finally spoke up, every word was swallowed.
"Then at least Moxxie will spend his final moments with his loved ones." Marchosias' ears flattened slightly, meeting Loona's gaze steadily. "It's a risk, I won't deny that. But if we don't try...then he will join Imperious into land of Pax-Imperia."
"Then do it, March." Octavia nodded, agreeing that there is not options left.
Octavia didn't need to tell him as Marchosias worked. He moved with a sense of urgency, handling the various ingredients he had gathered. He ground dried herbs into a fine powder, expertly measuring each component before adding them to the bubbling brew. The aroma that filled the room was earthy, with hints of floral and something almost metallic.
Octavia watched, transfixed, as Marchosias stirred the mixture with a wooden pestle, his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, Moxxie was wracked by a violent coughing fit, blood spilling from his lips.
"Moxxie!" Millie let out a strangled cry, grabbing his hand and clutching it to her chest.
"Shhh, my love," Moxxie turned his head, mustering a weak smile. He squeezed Millie's hand as tightly as he could. "It's... it's going to be alright. Whatever happens, know that I cherish every moment I've had with you. You are the love of my life."
Millie shook her head, her makeup streaming down her face in rivulets.
"There is no Millie without you, Moxxie. I... I won't have a reason to exist if you're gone." She pressed his hand to her cheek, her whole body trembling.
Loona, who had been standing back, watching the heartbreaking scene unfold, felt a pang of guilt wash over her. For the first time, she truly didn't want Moxxie to die, to leave them all behind. The thought of him, of this Imp, being taken from this world was almost more than she could bear.
With trembling hands, Marchosias lifted the wooden bowl filled with the shimmering, opalescent liquid. The potion seemed to catch non-existent moonlight, swirling with ethereal patterns that danced just beneath its surface. Steam rose from it in silvery wisps, carrying an acrid scent that made everyone's noses wrinkle.
"Here," Marchosias said softly, bringing the bowl to Moxxie's pale lips. "I know it smells terrible, but you need to drink all of it. Every last drop."
Moxxie's nose scrunched at the bitter aroma, but he nodded weakly. Millie helped prop his head up as Marchosias carefully tipped the bowl. The first few sips made Moxxie gag, but he persevered, forcing himself to swallow the metallic-tasting liquid. His hand gripped Millie's so tight his knuckles turned white.
The moment the last drop passed his lips, Moxxie's body went rigid. His back arched off the bed, a horrifying scream tearing from his throat. His eyes flew open, pupils dilating until they nearly swallowed the iris whole. Violent spasms wracked his frame, causing the bed to shake beneath him.
"Moxxie!" Loona's voice shattered. She clinged to Marchosias' arm with such force her claws drew pinpricks of blood through his fur. Her eyes were wide with horror as she watched Moxxie thrash and convulse. Marchosias didn't seem to notice the pain. His free hand clutched the crescent moon amulet hanging from his neck, his lips moving in rapid prayer.
"March, what's happening to him?" Octavia's voice cracked with panic. She had backed away from the bed, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself as if to shield her from the sight.
"The toxicity is doing exactly what it needs to do." Marchosias didn't take his eyes off Moxxie as he explained, his voice tense but steady. "Think of it like a forest fire - destructive, yes, but necessary for new growth. The potion is essentially burning through his system, purifying it of the Scourge." He winced as Moxxie let out another agonized cry. "But the process... it's excruciating. And that's not the worst of it."
"What do you mean?" Octavia asked, her usual collected demeanor showing cracks of concern.
"The Moonshine doesn't just affect the body," Marchosias continued grimly. "It touches the mind as well. He's likely experiencing intense hallucinations right now - visions, memories, perhaps even glimpses of things that never were and never will be." He shook his head. "A few were driven to temporary madness by what they saw. All we can do now is wait... and hope his mind is strong enough to weather the storm."
Millie sobbed quietly, pressing her forehead to Moxxie's hand as he continued to writhe and mutter incomprehensibly. The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by Moxxie's labored breathing and occasional whimpers, as they all waited to see if their desperate gamble would save him - or if they had only succeeded in making his final moments a living nightmare.
Pain. That was all Moxxie could comprehend anymore. It coursed through his veins like liquid fire, each heartbeat sending fresh waves of agony rippling through his body. His muscles seized and twisted, bones feeling as if they might snap under the strain. Through tear-blurred eyes, he tried to focus on Millie's face, his anchor in this storm of suffering, but even that was becoming impossible.
The world around him began to blur and shift, colors bleeding into one another like wet paint. Sounds became distorted – Millie's worried words stretched and warped until they were unrecognizable, like trying to hear someone speak underwater. The ceiling above him seemed to pulse and breathe, shadows dancing across its surface in impossible patterns.
Then, with a blink, everything changed.
↑ "The Whistle Of One Who You Rather Not Hear In You Life "
Where Loona had stood moments before, something else now loomed – a towering figure of midnight fur and exposed bone, its skull-like face with empty eye sockets with glowing pupils focused on him. Its presence radiating an primal terror that made Moxxie's soul want to shrivel up and hide. Beside this nightmare version of Loona, Marchosias had transformed into something equally terrifying – a massive wolf wrapped in a tattered cloak of deepest black, Its eyes blazed with red hellfire.
"No... no, please..." Moxxie tried to speak, but his voice came out as little more than a whimper. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the visions to disappear, but when he opened them again, he found himself face to face with something – someone – even more impossible.
A young woman stood at the foot of his bed, her skin as pale as moonlight, her wild black hair framing a face that seemed both ageless and eternal. She wore simple black clothes, and around her neck gleamed a silver ankh. But it was her eyes that captured Moxxie's attention – they were kind, impossibly kind, filled with a compassion that seemed to encompass all of existence.
She reached into her pocket and withdrew an ornate silver watch. She studied it for a moment, her expression somewhere between thoughtful and melancholic.
"☠ It's midnight soon... ☠" She said softly, her voice somehow cutting through the chaos in Moxxie's mind with perfect clarity. It wasn't threatening or ominous – if anything, she sounded like someone delivering news they wished they didn't have to share.
Moxxie tried to speak, to ask what that meant, to beg for more time, but the words wouldn't come. The room began to spin faster, the boundaries between reality and hallucination blurring until he couldn't tell what was real anymore. Was he still on the bed. Was Millie still holding his hand? Or was he already slipping away, following this gentle-eyed harbinger of death into whatever lay beyond?
Through it all, She continued to watch him with that same compassionate gaze, as if she understood every fear, every regret, every desperate wish for more time that raced through his fracturing mind. The pocket watch in her hand ticked steadily, each sound echoing like thunder in Moxxie's consciousness, counting down to...
Then.
...
Tick.
...
It strikes midnight...
In that moment, Moxxie's labored breathing, which had filled the room with its desperate rhythm, simply... stopped. His hand, still intertwined with Millie's, went limp. His face, which had been contorted in agony moments before, smoothed into an expression of impossible peace.
One second passed. Then Two...then Three. Four and Five. Then Millie's scream shattered the stillness – a sound of such raw anguish it made everyone's hearts crack.
"NO-NO-NO! PLEASE BABY, PLEASE! DON'T LEAVE ME...YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME!" She collapsed over his motionless form, her body wracked with violent sobs. "MOXXIE!"
Her words dissolved into incoherent wails as she clutched his cooling body to her chest, rocking back and forth.
"WHY, SATAN, WHY!?!
Loona's grip on Marchosias' arm loosened, her hand falling limply to her side. Tears streamed silently down her face, matting her fur. For once, there was no sarcasm, no tough exterior – just pure, unfiltered grief.
Olivia moved forward, placing a gentle hand on Millie's shoulder, but no words came. What could anyone say in the face of such devastation?
Octavia stood frozen, her eyes wide with horror and disbelief. She'd seen death before – it was Hell, after all – but never like this. Never someone she cared about, slipping away while she stood helpless to stop it. Her gaze shifted to Marchosias, silently pleading for him to do something, anything.
But Marchosias... Marchosias looked utterly broken. His shoulders slumped, ears flat against his head, the Moon amulet slipping from his trembling fingers to dangle uselessly against his chest. His failure pressed down on him like a physical force, crushing his usual confident demeanor into dust.
"I..." his voice cracked, thick with shame and regret. "I truly thought... hoped..." He couldn't finish the sentence. His medical knowledge, his desperate gambit with the Moonshine – none of it had been enough. He'd failed them. Failed Moxxie. Failed the trust they'd placed in him.
The room fell into a horrible rhythm – Millie's heart-wrenching sobs, punctuated by desperate pleas for Moxxie to come back to her, while everyone else stood in stunned, helpless silence. Marchosias turned away, unable to bear the sight of Millie's grief any longer. His claws dug into his palms until they drew blood, but he didn't mind the pain. It was nothing compared to what Millie was feeling, what they were all feeling.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." The words felt hollow, inadequate in the face of such devastating loss. But they were all he had to offer as Buzzards claimed another soul, leaving behind nothing but broken hearts and the bitter taste of failure.
Grief has a way of transforming into something darker, something primal. As Millie's sobs began to quieten, they were replaced by something else – a low, dangerous growl that seemed to rise from the depths of her very soul. Slowly, she lifted her head from Moxxie's chest, her eyes blazing with a fury that could have made Satan himself take pause.
"You...sorry?!" She hissed, fixing Marchosias with a glare that dripped venom. Her body trembled, not with sorrow now, but with unbridled rage. "Your 'cure' killed him!"
Marchosias stood his ground, though his ears remained flat against his head, accepting her anger with solemn dignity.
"And you!" Millie's attention snapped to Loona, her voice rising to a shriek. "This is all because of that damn sword! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU ABUSED HIM, MOCKED HIM AND NOW IS DEAD...BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU FUCKING DOG! " She rose from the bed, her small frame somehow seeming to fill the entire room with her fury. "MAYBE ALL THOSE BIRD NOBLES WERE RIGHT ABOUT HELLHOUNDS! YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED TO YOU! YOU NOTHING BUT CURSED BEASTS, PISSING AND SHITTING EVERYWHERE THEY WANT!
"Millie, please—" Octavia stepped forward. She understand the pain but even she knows it's too mucj.
"DON'T!" Millie whirled on her. "Don't you dare try to defend them! My Moxxie is dead because of them! Because we got dragged into their mess! Because we trusted them!"
Loona stood silent, each word striking like a physical blow, but she didn't defend herself. Her eyes remained fixed on Moxxie's still form, accepting each verbal lash as if it were deserved.
"One lone wolf cannot drag the entire pack under their shoulders," Marchosias's voice cut through Millie's tirade. "For the weight of such burden will crush their spirit for eternity."
He then reached into his cloak, pulling out an ancient tome bound in weathered leather, its pages edged in silver.
"What are you doing?" Loona's voice was barely a whisper.
"The only thing I can do now." He looked up at Loona, his eyes soft with understanding. "Will you join me in prayer, sister?"
Normally, Loona would have called him an idiot or moron if some book would really help in this situation. But there was nothing in Loona's face that shown her snarkiness.
"Sure..." It's the only thing she said to him, going silent once more.
Marchosias opened the ancient book and knelt beside Moxxie's bed, with Loona joining him on her knees. Marchosias' deep voice resonated through the chamber as he began the sacred prayer:
"Vicara Shera, mistress of Howling Moon, I ask forgiveness."
"Vicara Shera, whose moon light wear down stone and sand--"
"Vicara Shera, wash the burden from this one, and set him to the distant Sky of The Eternal Wild Hunt."
Marchosias would stop, turning his attention at Loona, wanting to ask her for important part.
"Tell me, Sister of the Moon. Who was Moxxie to you?"
"He was..." Loona's tough exterior cracked completely at the question. She once more glanced at Moxxie's body, fighting back tears "He was the uncle I never knew I needed. The one who... who tried to teach me stupid shit about manners and classical music. Who actually gave a damn about making me better, even when I was awful to him. He was family... in his own annoying, endearing way."
The raw honesty in her confession seemed to catch even Millie off guard, her rage faltering for just a moment as she saw her own pain reflected in Loona's eyes.
"Y-you...did?" Ever word felt like a stab into Millie's heart. If she really knew she would...and now she felt a monster who wished Loona's death and rest of kind.
"I did..." Loona lowered her eyes, staring at the floor. "I really did..."
Marchosias would flips page and opened on specific rite. He would show it to Loona, hopping she understand what she must to say. Loona nodded before starting.
"Vicara, this one's heart is pure,
"But beset by wickedness and contention."
"Guide this one to where the hunter never tires,"
"The mate never leaves, the hungry never starve."
"Guide this one, Vicara,"
"And she will be a companion to your Pack as she was to me."
When she finished it, Loona realized that...it was an prayer for her own soul.
"Why..." Loona had to check it again if she was wrong. "Why the prayer is...for me?"
"The prayer is for you and for me. For those Hounds who left behind. For the burden of grief and guilt we will carry." Marchosias looked up from the tome, his eyes shown understanding and compassion. "Our wish is that we might be worthy to join him one day, in the eternal hunt beneath moon. That despite our failures, our mistakes, our inability to save him... we might still be deemed worthy to run beside him again."
"We all hope..." Millie whispered but already exhausted from the storm of emotions. She held Moxxie's hand against her cheek her tears falling silently now. And slowly hummed that song, the same song she heard her dying grandmother.
♪ A cloud has fallen on our shore ♪
♪ The mighty hand and sword of Imperian war ♪
♪ And I'll be brave, be strong, be true, my love ♪
♪ And I'll be waiting for you, forever. ♪
---
♪ My love, you march to war defiant ♪
♪ May Satan returneth you triumphant ♪
♪ And you'll be brave, be strong, be true, my love ♪
♪ And I'll be waiting for you, forever ♪
---
Even this little lullaby didn't help her to say proper goodbyes....Millie just sunk her head onto Moxxie's chest. Her rage had burned itself out at this point, leaving behind only the hollow ache of loss.
Octavia and Olivia stood close together, offering what comfort they could through their presence alone. The young owl's eyes were distant, perhaps thinking of her own brush with mortality, of how close she had come to leaving others behind...and never coming back.
Marchosias rose slowly, he placed the ancient tome back within his cloak, then stepped back, giving the others space to say their final goodbyes. His eyes held a deep sadness, but also a glimmer of hope – hope that somehow, their unprecedented prayer might find favor with the Moon Mother.
Loona had remained frozen in place since the end of the prayer, her gaze fixed on Moxxie's peaceful face. Finally, she stepped forward, her movements hesitant, unlike her usual confident stride. She reached out, then pulled back, as if afraid to touch him.
"Can't believe you just left like us...not saying proper goodbyes." Loona spoke, her voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotions she had always tried so hard to hide. "Usually you would complain, throw a tantrum that I would find cute...and yet, you left us...left me." Another tear fell from her eye. "You were happy with Millie...and I felt jealousy instead...I...I wished for what could have been instead."
Gathering all the strength, Loona got closer, taking a seat near Moxxie's body. She would bring her hand on Moxxie's cheeck, finally getting...somewhat a proper way of Loona getting that close to someone...even if it wasn't appropriate, especiialy for Millie. But Millie is suffering enough that she didn't care, nothing but sorrow and agony at this point.
Loona awkwardly stared at him, remembering the first day she ever met him...and she punched him because he didn't like her attitude. Felt like an eternity where sometimes Loona's life was simpler...now she is older, more wise but...not enough, it seemed. Sometimes, she wonders what exactly she wants from this life...but one of them is clear: Moxxie's acceptance for her apology...for everything.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Moxxie."
*Sniff*
"I'm so sorry..."
Three simple words, but they carried years of unspoken regrets – for every sarcastic comment, every eye roll, every moment she could have been kinder but chose not to be. For not appreciating him until it was too late. For everything she'd never said, and now never could.
...
And that's where the true redemption for Loona begins...
In Nomine Domini Nostri: Solis et Ignis, Orator, Magnus Imperiae Campio, Canum Nega, Lycaonis Caedes, Dux Bonus Imperiosus. Praedictus bellator. Tibi Preces Fundimus Pro Victore nostro, Domine Imperiose.
...
...
...
Moxxie's eyes snapped open, consciousness flooding back like a rush of cold water. He blinked several times, trying to process the extraordinary vista before him. Gone was the medical wing, gone were his friends, gone was the pain that had consumed his entire being. Instead...
He found himself standing in a realm that defied earthly comprehension. The sky above blazed with perpetual twilight, streaked with ribbons of crimson and gold that twisted like aurora borealis. Rolling fields of asphodel flowers stretched as far as the eye could see, they glowed with an inner fire, their petals shifting between shades of ember and flame. Rivers of lava wound through the landscape like veins of molten gold, yet their heat didn't scorch; instead, they provided a comforting warmth that pulsed through the air like a heartbeat.
Ghostly mist curled around Moxxie's feet as he took tentative steps forward along a path made of obsidian stone. The air smelled of brimstone and sweet incense, an oddly pleasant combination that reminded him of ancient temples. Every few steps, he passed strange monuments – broken weapons, ancient standards, and tablets carved with script so old it made his eyes hurt to look at them.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice seeming to echo strangely in the misty air. "Is... is anyone there?"
As if in answer, he rounded a bend in the path and came upon a solitary figure seated upon a fallen column. It was an Imp, but unlike any Moxxie had ever seen. The warrior – for warrior he must be – wore armor that seemed to be crafted from volcanic glass and bronze, decorated with intricate patterns that shifted and moved when Moxxie wasn't looking directly at them. A helmet sat beside him, crowned with a plume that flickered like living flame.
The warrior was staring out across the field of fire-flowers, apparently lost in contemplation. He didn't turn as Moxxie approached, but his ears twitched slightly, acknowledging the presence of another.
"Um, excuse me," Moxxie ventured, "but could you tell me where I am? I was... I was in the medical wing, and there was pain, and then..."
The warrior turned slowly, and Moxxie's words died in his throat. The ancient Imp's eyes held the weight of centuries, and when he spoke, his voice resonated with the authority of ages past:
1) "Ave, frater novus. Ad campos Bellatoris pervenisti, ubi antiqui imperatores requiescunt."
"I... I'm sorry, I don't..." Moxxie stared blankly, understanding perhaps one word in three. Where is Millie when you need her?
The ancient warrior seemed to sense Moxxie's confusion. Without breaking his serene composure, he lifted a gauntleted hand and pointed across the blazing fields. Through gaps in the swirling mist, Moxxie could see a structure that definitely hadn't been there moments before – or perhaps it had, and he simply hadn't noticed it.
The temple rose from the asphodel fields like a dream made solid. Obsidian columns soared skyward, their surfaces etched with spiraling patterns that seemed to move in the corner of one's vision. The pediment above bore relief carvings of ancient battles, the figured warriors frozen mid-strike, their weapons raised against foes lost to time.
2) "Templum Imperiosorum te vocat," the warrior intoned solemnly, still pointing. "Ipsa te expectat."
Moxxie glanced between the warrior and the temple, understanding nothing except the clear directive in the gesture.
"Right... go to the scary temple. Because that's exactly what you should do when asking an stranger in weird cosplay." He let out a nervous laugh that echoed strangely in the misty air. "Though I suppose what's the worst that could happen?"
The warrior remained impassive, his eyes fixed on Moxxie with an unnerving intensity that somehow managed to convey both encouragement and command without a single word being understood.
"Okay, okay, I'm going," Moxxie muttered, taking his first tentative steps toward the temple. The obsidian path seemed to shift beneath his feet, guiding him forward like a current in a river. As he walked, he could have sworn he heard whispers in the mist – fragments of ancient battles, perhaps, or the echoes of long-forgotten songs.
The temple grew larger as he approached, its presence becoming more imposing with each step. The flames of the asphodel flowers seemed to bend toward it, as if paying homage to whatever power dwelt within. And there was something inside, Moxxie was certain of that now.
Just before he reached the first step of the temple, he glanced back toward the warrior. But the ancient Imp was gone, leaving only empty mist where he had sat.
"Well," Moxxie whispered to himself, straightening his bow tie out of habit, "Here goes nothing..."
Moxxie placed his hands against the enormous bronze doors, their surfaces decorated with intricate reliefs of ancient battles and heroic deeds. With a deep, resonating groan, they slowly swung inward, releasing a breath of air that carried the weight of centuries.
The sight that greeted him stole his breath away.
Before him stretched a great hall that seemed to defy the laws of space and perspective. Massive columns of polished obsidian soared upward into shadows so deep they might have contained stars, their surfaces flickering with veins of crimson light that pulsed like living arteries. Braziers of eternal flame lined the walls, their light catching on countless battle standards, ancient weapons, and tattered banners that hung between the columns, each telling its own tale of glory and sacrifice.
But it was the table that dominated the space – a single, impossibly long piece of dark wood that stretched far beyond what Moxxie's eyes could comprehend. It seemed to go on forever, disappearing into the distant darkness like a road into infinity. The surface was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the dancing flames above and creating the illusion that the feast laid upon it floated on a river of fire.
And the guests... there were hundreds, perhaps thousands of Imps seated along its length. They were unlike any Imps Moxxie had ever seen.
The nearest Imps to him wore attire so ancient it belonged in the deepest archaeological digs. A warrior in crude bronze armor, his helmet adorned with strips of leather that might have been fashionable several millennia ago, raised a clay cup in Moxxie's direction. Beside him sat another in a toga so old its style predated the Inferno itself.
"Am I... where in Imperious' name I just ventured into?" Moxxie whispered to himself, his voice nearly lost in the grand cacophony of the feast hall. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as he took his first tentative steps into the impossible gathering.
As Moxxie moved deeper into the hall, he watched history unfold before him with each passing step. The bronze armor gradually gave way to iron, then to steel. Togas evolved into medieval garments, the Imps' attire becoming more elaborate with each table section he passed. A group of Imps in crusader armor debated enthusiastically with others wearing ornate Byzantine robes.
Further still, and the medieval knights gave way to renaissance commanders, their elaborate doublets and ruffs catching the ethereal light. The progression continued – baroque imp generals beside "Napoleonic" looking officers, Victorian military commanders next to World War I Era imps. With each step forward, the clothing became more recognizable, more modern, until finally...
"Excuse me," He tried asking a nearby Imp in relatively modern dress, "What is this place? Why am I here?"
The Imp he asked merely smiled and gestured further down the table, as if to say 'Keep going.' The end of the table still seemed impossibly far away, yet something pulled Moxxie forward.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of walking past countless generations of warriors, Moxxie reached the end of the impossible table. But instead of finding some grand finale or spectacular sight, he found... nothing. The table simply ended in empty space, the eternal flames casting dancing shadows across bare stone.
"Well that's an waste of time." Moxxie sighed, opting to turn around...and then-
"Who comes before the Eternal Feast?"
The voice boomed through the hall like a thunderclap, causing the flames in their braziers to flicker wildly. It held authority, ancient power, and yet... an underlying warmth.
"I, uh..." Moxxie tugged nervously at his bow tie, looking around for the source of the voice. "I was kind of... pointed here? By some guy in really fancy armor who spoke in what I'm pretty sure was High Satanic? Though I suppose that doesn't narrow it down much given the crowd..."
"Has your time come then, young one?" The voice asked, softer now but no less commanding.
"My... time?" Moxxie blinked in confusion. "I'm not sure I follow. Look, I was in the bed, and then suddenly I'm here in this impossible place with impossible imps and now there's an impossible voice asking impossible questions and—"
The air before him shimmered like heat waves rising from desert sand. Gradually, a figure appeared – an Imp, but one whose mere presence made Moxxie's knees want to buckle.
Before him stood an impressive tall Imp with black mohawk. His armor was unlike anything Moxxie had ever seen, seemingly forged from materials that didn't exist in any Ring anymore. Decorated with symbols that told the entire history of Imperian Tribes. A crimson cape flowed from his shoulders, moving in a wind that wasn't there. His face bore the noble features of a born leader with tribal markings, written in language that Moxxie was not familiar.
"It has been..." The figure spoke, his voice now localized but no less powerful, "...so very long since one of your lineage has come to join feast of eternity."
Moxxie blinked three times in rapid succession. "Okay, either I'm still unconscious and this is some really bizarre pain-medication-induced dream, or someone spiked my coffee with something extremely potent." He paused, considering. "Actually, given some of Blitzo's past pranks, both are equally possible."
The ancient Imp's laughter was unexpected – a rich, warm sound that seemed to make the very air vibrate with amusement. "Such audacity! To speak so freely in this hallowed hall... though I suppose I should expect nothing less from one my sons of Imperia. Bravery, even if masked by wit, runs deep in our veins."
"Sons... of Imperia?" Moxxie's eyes widened as realization slowly dawned. "Wait... are you...?"
The figure drew himself up to his full height, and for a moment, the ethereal quality of his form solidified into something more present, more real.
"I am Imperious: The Orator." He declared, the voice that made many Imp tribes to unite against the Hellhounds. "It was I who united the scattered tribes under Wrath's burning sky. I who led our people against the Hellhound Hordes when they thought to make slaves of us all. I who forged the very identity of 'Imp' from the chaos of our warring clans."
Moxxie's jaw dropped open, then closed, then opened again like a fish out of water. His mind reminded through every history lesson he'd ever had, every legend he'd been told as a child, every story about the great unifier of the Imp kind. Finally, his voice returned in a strangled near-shout:
"BUT YOU'VE BEEN DEAD FOR 100,000 YEARS. IT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"
Imperious's lips curved into a knowing smile, the kind that suggested he'd heard similar outbursts countless times before.
"Impossible?" He gestured broadly at their surroundings – the endless feast hall, the thousands of warriors from across time, the floating servants, and the ever-burning flames. "Young one, you stand in the Eternal Feast, where time holds no meaning and death is merely... a change of venue. Did you think the legends of our people were mere stories? That the Cult of Imperia worshipped empty air?" He then stepped closer to Moxxie "Besides, technically it's been 103,247 years, give or take a century. One loses track after the first few millennia. Though I must say, your mathematical approximation is refreshingly close for a modern Imp. The educational standards haven't fallen as far as some of my more... traditional guests like to complain."
"I can't—I can't just be having a casual conversation with Imperious!" Moxxie's voice cracked as he paced back and forth, his hands gesturing wildly in the air. "This is—this is-YOU'RE AN IMPERIOUS! The Imperious! I haven't even had a proper audience with Satan himself! The closest I got was that time Blitzo crashed his winter solstice party and we had to escape through the cheese table!"
He stopped abruptly, tugging at his bow tie which somehow remained perfectly straight despite his agitation. "The most important figure in Imp history can't just... just be standing here making jokes about educational standards!"
Imperious watched Moxxie's breakdown with patient amusement, his yes holding a hint of sympathy. When he spoke once more, his voice was gentler, though no less resonant:
"What makes you so certain you're speaking with the living?"
Moxxie froze mid-gesture. "What do you mean? I'm clearly alive and—"
"Are you?" Imperious interrupted softly. "Perhaps you should consider the alternative: that you're not speaking with the living..." He paused meaningfully, "...because you yourself are no longer among them."
The words hung in the air like smoke, heavy with implication. The distant sounds of the feast seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft crackle of eternal flames and the thundering of Moxxie's own heartbeat in his ears.
Or... was that his heartbeat?
Moxxie's hand slowly moved to his chest, pressing against it as his eyes widened in growing horror. "But... but I was just in the bed. There was... there was..."
"Pain?" Imperious supplied gently. "And then suddenly, there wasn't?"
The memories came flooding back – the searing agitation, the frantic voices of his friends growing distant, Millie's tear-streaked face being pulled away from his bedside, and then... this place. This impossible place.
...
"Oh," Moxxie whispered, his voice very small in the vast hall as it finnaly dawned upon him. "Oh no."
"I understand your reaction. But be at peace, young warrior." Imperious raised a gauntleted hand, his expression softening at Moxxie's distress. The ancient warrior gestured to the feast hall around them, where the countless generations of Imp warriors continued their eternal celebration. "For your actions have earned you ride of passage to Pax Imperia. Your valor against the Hellhounds, much like your ancestors before you, and your unwavering dedication through countless battles with I.M.P, even when fear gripped your heart... These deeds have not gone unnoticed." Imperious's cape swirled around him as he moved, He gestured toward the entire the table. "Your bloodline has always found its way here, to my halls. Your ancestors await, ready to share tales of their own battles, their own victories."
"My bloodline..." Moxxie repeated in a whisper, the words feeling strange on his tongue. "All of them... my ancestors?"
He turned slowly, taking in the faces of the gathered Imps with new understanding. Now that Imperious had pointed it out, he could see it – subtle features that he recognized from his own reflection. The slight upturn of a nose here, the particular arch of horns there, the same way some of them adjusted their formal wear with nervous precision.
His eyes swept across the gathering, past warriors spanning millennia, until...he stopped breathing at her.
There, seated among the legendary warriors, was a face he'd only known from photographs and fading memories. Her smile was exactly as he remembered it from his childhood, warm and gentle despite her warrior's bearing. She wore the same dress he remembered, but her hair was styled just as it had been in his earliest memories.
"Mom?" The word escaped him as barely more than a breath.
Next to her sat an Imp whose presence commanded attention even in this gathering of legends. His armor bore the distinctive markings of a Centurion of Satan's Legion, worn with the ease of one who had lived and died in it. The family resemblance was striking – Moxxie could see his father Crimson's face reflected in the elder Imp's face...Moxxie's Grandfather perhaps?
His mother's eyes met his across the impossible distance, and her smile widened with that same loving pride he remembered from his childhood performances. She raised a hand in greeting, and the Centurion beside her nodded solemnly, offering a formal salute that spoke of both military precision and grandfatherly affection.
Moxxie took an unconscious step forward, his legs moving of their own accord.
"They're all..." his voice cracked slightly as he turned back to Imperious, "They're all really here? All of them?"
"And they await you," Imperious said softly, gesturing toward an empty seat beside Moxxie's mother. "Your place at the Eternal Feast has always been reserved, young warrior. Just as it was for your mother, your grandfather, and all who came before."
Moxxie stared at the empty seat, his mind waging war with his heart. He could almost hear her humming his favorite lullaby, just as she had done when he was small.
"I..." His voice came out barely above a whisper. "This is..." He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his typical precision faltering. "I had a life. Had a company. Had Millie..." A bitter laugh escaped him. "And I fucked it all up, didn't I? Got myself killed on some stupid contract mission and now it's all just... over?"
"No, young one," Imperious' voice carried both authority and gentle correction. "You are not dead – not yet. Your soul stands in the twilight between realms, where choice still holds power. Only when you take your seat beside your mother, only when you choose to join the Eternal Feast... and will your mortal bonds break. You will find the warrior's peace, here with your ancestors, with your beloved mother."
In the distance, Moxxie could hear his mother's favorite song drifting through the air, a melody that spoke of home and belonging. Yet simultaneously, like an echo from another world, he caught the faint sound of Millie's singing...calling his name, filled with desperation and love.
Moxxie stared at his mother, drinking in every detail of her face. The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, just as he remembered. The particular tilt of her head as she watched him with maternal pride. Every fiber of his being ached to rush forward, to feel her arms around him one more time, to hear her voice not just in memories but real and present. How many nights had he lain awake, wishing for just one more moment with her? How many times had he wanted to share his accomplishments, his fears, his love for music that she had instilled in him?
But...
Another voice echoed in his mind, sweet and fierce and achingly real. Millie. His Millie. The way she looked at him like he was her entire world. The sound of her laughter during their duets. The fierce protectiveness in her eyes whenever anyone threatened him. The gentle touch of her hand straightening his bow tie each morning. The future they had planned together – all their dreams, their hopes, their shared tomorrows.
Tears began rolling down Moxxie's cheeks as he looked at his mother. Her expression softened with understanding even before he spoke, and somehow that made it both easier and infinitely harder. He is ready to finally let her go...and be at peace as she deserves.
"I just... I can't." Moxxie stepped back from the empty chair, each movement feeling like he was pulling against invisible chains. His eyes remained fixed on his mother, memorizing her one last time. "I can't stay..."
"Are you certain, young warrior?" Imperious stepped forward, there was not hint of judgment in his voice. "You would reject the peace of Pax Imperia? Choose to return to a realm of horror and despair, where each day brings new trials and torments?"
"It's not my time yet, My Lord. Death can have me...when I earned it." Moxxie straightened his spine, and despite his tears, his voice grew stronger.
A moment of silence fell across the eternal feast hall, heavy with the weight of his declaration. Then, unexpectedly, Imperious laughed.
"Do you know how many warriors I have welcomed to these halls across the millennia, young Moxxie? How many have stood where you stand, gazed upon their loved ones, and embraced their eternal reward with open arms? And yet here you stand, one of the rare few who would reject paradise itself. Who would choose the hardship of life over the peace of death." He placed a gauntleted hand on Moxxie's shoulder, the touch somehow both ethereal and solid. "It makes me prouder than you could know."
"Proud?" Moxxie blinked in surprise, his tears momentarily forgotten.
"You understand what so many forget – that the true warrior's path is not about seeking a glorious death, but about living for a purpose greater than oneself. You are right, Moxxie of I.M.P. Your path is far from finished. There are battles yet to be fought, songs yet to be sung, and love yet to be lived."
Moxxie turned one last time toward his mother, his heart aching with the finality of this farewell. She sat there, radiant as always, but it was her smile that captured him – that same proud, loving smile that had given him courage throughout his childhood. She didn't speak, didn't need to. In her eyes, he saw everything: pride in the man he'd become, joy in the love he'd found, and understanding of his choice to return.
He pressed his hand to his heart, a child's gesture he'd always made when saying goodnight to her. Her ethereal form mirrored the action, and for a moment, he was fourths years old again, safe in the knowledge of his mother's endless love. Turning to Imperious, Moxxie straightened his posture and offered a formal bow.
"Thank you, Lord Imperious. For everything you have done for us."
"Until we meet again, brave one. By my authority as Orator of Imperian Tribes, I bid you return to fulfill your purpose in life. Guard your love, fight your battles, and live with honor..." The ancient warrior inclined his head, the gesture somehow containing both imperial authority and grandfatherly warmth. "As true son of Imperia does."
Moxxie took a deep breath, his chest filling with a sudden surge of determination. He could hear Millie's voice more clearly now, desperate and loving, calling him back to the world of the living. His feet began moving, slowly at first, then picking up speed.
"MILLIE!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the eternal hall. "I'M COMING FOR YOU, MILS!"
He ran, faster than he'd ever run before. Past the thousands of his ancestors, past the eternal feast, past centuries of history. The great hall became a blur around him, the flames of the braziers streaking into rivers of light. His feet pounded against the obsidian floor, each step a declaration of life, of love, of defiance against death itself.
The voices of the feast fell away behind him, replaced by the growing sound of Millie's voice. Ahead, the entrance to the hall blazed with increasingly brilliant light.
"MILLIE!"
The light grew blinding, consuming everything in its radiance. Moxxie felt his body becoming lighter, less substantial, as if he were dissolving. The last thing he heard was the distant sound of his mother's lullaby mingling with Imperious's thunder-like laugh, and then—
...
"Moxxie?"
The silence shattered like glass.
A violent, rattling cough erupted from Moxxie's previously still form, his body convulsing with the force of it. The sound was raw and desperate, like someone breaking through the surface after nearly drowning. Each cough seemed to tear through him, his small frame shaking as he fought for air, clutching at his chest with trembling hands.
The coughing fit subsided as suddenly as it had begun, leaving Moxxie gasping, his eyes still closed. For a heartbeat, the room held its collective breath, suspended in that fragile moment between miracle and heartbreak. Then, slowly, his eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, as if trying to remember how to see.
Everyone in the room froze, their expressions a perfect tableau of shock – everyone except Marchosias, whose lips curled into the faintest knowing smile. Vicara have blessed him and Loona for an second chance. Moxxie's gaze wandered the room, taking in the tear-stained faces surrounding him, before finally settling on the one person he needed most. His voice, when it came, was barely more than a whisper, rough and raw but filled with infinite tenderness:
"Millie?"
The sound of her name on his lips broke whatever spell had held Millie paralyzed. Her scream of joy echoed through the medical wing – not the anguished wail of moments before, but a pure, unbridled expression of euphoria that could have wakened the dead themselves. She launched herself at him with such force that the bed frame creaked in protest.
"MOXXIE! OH MY SATAN, MOXXIE!"
Her arms wrapped around him with crushing force, as if afraid he might slip away again if she loosened her grip even slightly. She buried her face in his neck, her whole body shaking with sobs – but these were different tears now, warm and bright as summer rain. "You came back to me, you came back, you came back..."
Moxxie winced slightly at the intensity of her embrace, but his arms came up to hold her just as tightly, his own tears falling into her hair. "Can't... breathe... Mills..." he managed to wheeze out, though his weak attempt at humor was undermined by the way he clung to her, his fingers tangling in her waist as if to anchor himself to reality.
Loona stood frozen, her mouth hanging open, ears perked forward in disbelief. Tears continued to stream down her face, but she seemed unaware of them now, too shocked to even think of maintaining her usual tough exterior. Octavia gripped Olivia's arm so tightly that her talons left marks, while Olivia pressed her free hand to her mouth, not bellieving the miracle. And through it all, Marchosias watched with that same knowing smile.
For a long moment, Loona remained rooted to the spot, her mind struggling to process the miracle before her. Then, like a dam breaking, something inside her shattered. Without warning, without her usual hesitation about showing emotion, she lunged forward toward the bed.
"YOU STUPID FUCKING IMP!" She half-sobbed, half-laughed as she practically collapsed onto both Millie and Moxxie, her arms wrapping around them both. "I'm so fucking sorry, I'm so fucking sorry for everything!"
Her tears fell freely now, darkening the hospital sheets as she pressed her face against Moxxie's shoulder. "I was such a bitch, such a goddamn bitch, and you almost-you almost..." She couldn't finish the sentence, her words dissolving into hiccuping sobs.
"No, no, I'm the one who should be sorry!" Millie, still clinging to Moxxie, turned her tear-streaked face toward Loona. "All those horrible things I said to you, Loona. I was so angry, so scared, I—" Her voice cracked with emotion. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"YES! FUCKING YES, I WILL!" Loona practically screamed, her tail wagging uncontrollably behind her. She squeezed them both tighter, not caring about anyhing. "Just don't you ever fucking die on us again, Moxxie, or I swear to Marchosias I'll drag your ass back from whatever afterlife claims you just to kill you myself!"
Moxxie, sandwiched between the two sobbing women, managed a weak chuckle despite being slightly crushed.
"Can't... breathe... again...guys" He wheezed out, but his smile was radiant despite his exhaustion. His free hand, trembling slightly, reached up to awkwardly pat Loona's head. "But... I love you too, you crazy hellhound."
This only made Loona cry harder, her usual growl transformed into something between a whimper and a laugh as she nuzzled against them both, her tail thumping against the bed frame with enough force to make it shake.
"Well...glad it's an happy ending for them." Marchosias said to Octavia and Oliva, who had been quietly observing the emotional reunion. Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, Loona's head snapped up at Marchosias, already forgetting he existed. Her expression shifted from grateful joy to intense determination in an instant.
"YOU!"
The force of her exclamation made even Marchosias raise an eyebrow, not sure why she screamed. Before anyone could react, Loona had already launched herself from the bed, closing the distance between them in three swift strides.
"YOU'RE THE BEST THING HAPPENED IN MY LIFE! I LOVE YOU, YOU HANDSOME STUD!" Loona practically roared, grabbing his shoulders with enough force to make his armor clank. Then, running purely on adrenaline and gratitude, she yanked him forward and crashed her lips against his in a fierce, aggressive kiss.
"Oooh, my!" Olivia whispered, blushing madly for not believing that she sees an "Hellhound on Hellhound" action...not to mention it's "Between Noble and a Citizen" type of deal that makes Olivia...to want to try it out...badly...did the temperature got hotter or is it just her?
Marchosias went rigid with shock, his eyes widening to an almost comical degree. His arms remained frozen at his sides, caught completely off-guard by this. The Ars Goetian Marquise of hellhound origins found himself utterly blindsided by one impulsive hellhound.
When Loona finally pulled back, reality came crashing down on her like a bucket of ice water. At first she blinked twice before realizing she just...kissed him. Her face turned a shade of red. She had just forcibly kissed a Marquis of the Ars Goetia. In front of witnesses...
"I... uh... fuck... I mean... shit... Your Grace... I didn't... fuck..." She stammered, taking several stumbling steps backward, her tail tucking between her legs. "I'm so... fuck... sorry?"
Marchosias cleared his throat, adjusting his collar with deliberate precision. While he didn't blush the awkwardness radiating from him was almost palpable. "While your... enthusiasm is noted, perhaps next time... ask someone if they consent first."
"Next time?" Octavia's voice cut through, rich with amusement. "I hate to break it to you, Marchosias, but 'Loona' and 'consent' are about as compatible as my father and his partners on bed."
"Hey!" Loona protested weakly, still beet red and looking like she wanted nothing more than to dig a hole straight through all nine circles of Hell and keep digging.
From the bed, Millie was unsuccessfully trying to stifle her giggles behind her hands, while Moxxie – despite his weakened state – managed to croak out,
"And here I thought I was the one who died and came back to life, but clearly I've entered some bizarre alternate reality."
"Oh, shut the fuck up, both of you!" Loona growled, but there was no real heat in it. She was too busy avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room, especially Marchosias, who had taken a subtle step to maintain a more... professional distance.
"Aside that..." Marchsosias tried to break the awkward feel in the room by asking their fortunate friend. "How are you feeling, Moxxie?"
"Everything's... spinning a bit," Moxxie mumbled, still held tightly in Millie's embrace. His eyes had a glazed, distant look, as if seeing through multiple layers of reality at once. "I saw... I saw her, Mills. Death herself."
"Death?" Octavia repeated, hitting her like nerve...and she forgets she had death anxiety before.
"Yeah...death." Moxxie blinked slowly, trying to focus on the room around him, but the memories kept bleeding through like watercolors on wet paper. "She was beautiful, in a terrifying sort of way. Had this pocket watch... silver, with all these strange symbols. Kept saying it was midnight, but..." His voice trailed off as another wave of images washed over him. "Then I was somewhere else. This strange place... like something out of those fairy tales humans write. All misty and full of moonlight, but the colors were wrong." Moxxie's grip on Millie's hand tightened. "And there was... there was Imperious. Not like the stories paint him, not some grand demon lord. He looked... normal. Wise...cunning." His voice cracked slightly. "And there was... my mother. She hadn't aged a day since..." He couldn't finish the sentence, but Millie pulled him closer, stroking his hair soothingly.
"The Moonshine brew is known to have... interesting effects on the consciousness. The mind often creates vivid hallucinations to cope with the transition." Marchosias stepped forward, his deep voice gentle but clinical. "The combination of the poison, the cure, and your brief...near death experience... well your mind coped in way it was capable when it was dying."
"But it felt so real," Moxxie insisted, his eyes searching the room as if expecting to see traces of his vision lingering in the corners. His gaze fell on the broken clock hanging crooked on the medical wing's wall. The hands were frozen at 6:32 PM, the glass face cracked from some long-forgotten impact.
"Midnight she said...yet it still evening." He muttered, then let out a weak laugh that held a hint of hysteria. "Death has a really weird sense of humor, apparently."
"Do not dwell too heavily on the metaphors and symbolism, my young friend," Marchosias stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Moxxie's shoulder. "Your mind will take time to fully recover. For now, focus yourself on resting and regaining your strength. The brew I gave has done its work, but the effects may linger for some time. You may experience further... unusual sensations."
"Why it sounds so naughty?" Olivia muttered to herself. At this point, she really needs an horny jail...
"Fantastic." Moxxie groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillows. "So I might start tasting colors or hearing shapes? Just what I need."
"Could be worse, Fatty." Loona offered with a hint of her usual snark returning. "You could have stayed dead."
"LOONA!" everyone except Marchosias shouted in unison, but Moxxie actually chuckled, though the sound was still weak...nothing new with her at this point. To be honest, Loona's compassion and Loona's typical behaviour are just...so diffrent to each other.
Loona opened her mouth, then closed it again, her ears drooping slightly. The grief and shame that had etched itself onto her earlier still lingered, softening her usual tough exterior
"Aside the failed attempt for young woman to break the monotony, she is not entirely incorrect. The reality we now face is certainly preferable to the one we so nearly got." Marchosias said sternly, his gaze fixed on Loona. She glanced up, her eyes wide with surprise and relief. But he turned back to Moxxie, his expression softening. "Rest now, Moxxie. Allow your body to heal, and I trust that the lingering effects of the Moonshine will fade in time. I will remain nearby to in any case."
Moxxie opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but the exhaustion was plain to see. With a small nod, he settled back against the pillows, his eyes already beginning to drift shut. Millie, who had been holding his hand the entire time, gave it a gentle squeeze, her own eyes shining with relief and love.
"Thank you..." Millie whispered to Marchosias, nothing but genuine kindness and appreciation to him. "Thank you, my lord."
Marchosias slowly nodded, no words needed as he wanted for them to rest. Hence, the others began to quietly file out of the medical wing, leaving Millie to keep a vigil at his bedside.
"Are you certain he will be alright?" Octavia paused at the doorway, turning back to look at Marchosias with a troubled expression.
"No matter what the future holds, I will remain here to ensure Moxxie's recovery," Marchosias met her gaze steadily, his deep voice reassuring. "I believe you will find Amy Goetia in the courtyard. I don't think Barbatos would love if you will delay yourself more."
"Of course. Thank you, Marchosias." Octavia glanced back at Loona one last time, patting her shoulder for her to be strong, before turning to Olivia. "Come, we must not waste any more time."
As the two women departed, the corridor fell into a contemplative silence, broken only by the faint sounds of Moxxie's steady breathing and Millie's occasional soft hum as she gently stroked his hair even from where they were. Loona, who had been lingering near the doorway, shifted uncomfortably, unsure of her place in the room now that the immediate crisis had passed. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again, her ears flattening against her head.
"You have something on your mind?" Marchosias turned to face her, his expression unreadable.
"It just...I...about kiss." Loona again stammered, even with Vortex she handled it better. "Look, I was happy and you-"
"No harm done by it. I can't really blame for your reaction of me saving him. I can see you in heart that you cared for him deeply. " Marchosias showed his palm, seeing no reason for her to continue with her thoughts. He paused once more, his eyes taking on a distant look. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke once more with uncharacteristic vulnerability in his usually wise voice. "Though I won't deny..,In all my life that was actually my first... experience" His hand unconsciously touched his lips for a brief moment. "I had always hoped to save such a moment for someone special – the love of my life, should I ever find them."
"Oh fuck... I mean... shit..." Loona's ears perked up in shock, her eyes widening. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her tail twitching nervously behind her. Once more, she took a deep breath, still rather vulnerable. "That was... um... that was my first too, actually. I was hoping it would been...for one guy I know off. "
"Really?" Now it was Marchosias's turn to look surprised. Even from the first time that he saw, she looked like someone who would not had this problem. "But you seemed so..." He trailed off, catching himself before he could say something potentially inappropriate. "My apologizes, I didn't meant anything by it."
The moment the words left his mouth, both of them froze, the awkwardness in the corridor becoming almost tangible. Loona's face turned an even deeper shade of red, while Marchosias cleared his throat and suddenly found the corridor's ceiling fascinating...and probabiy will have to ask Amy for her to hire some renovators.
"But thank you, really." Loona finally broke the silence. her shoulders slumped, all the bravado and defiance draining from her. "And I'm... I'm sorry...for everything."
Marchosias remained silent, allowing her to continue.
"It just...If I hadn't taken that stupid sword that I sold it to you, none of this would have happened. The Buzzards wouldn't have attacked, Moxxie wouldn't have..." Loona took a deep, shuddering breath. Her voice cracked, and she had to pause to compose herself.
Marchosias made full turn to her this time. He can tell something is eating her inside.
"And I was such a bitch to everyone...Moxxie was just trying to help, and I treated him like garbage. I was so caught up in my own stupid selfish reasons that I couldn't see how much I was hurting the people around me. Back when I saw him..." Loona's head dropped. She let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "If Moxxie didn't make it, I... I don't know what I'll have done. And the worst part is, I actually...cared. I actually give a damn about that annoying little Imp, and I couldn't even be there for him when he needed me most."
"You speak as if Moxxie's fate rests solely on your shoulders, my sister of Moon. But the course of events was set in motion long before you ever held that sword in your hands." Marchosias watched her, his gaze filled with a deep understanding. Even to Loona's surprise, nothing in his face he judged her.
"But I made it worse. I made everything worse." Loona looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Perhaps," Marchosias conceded. "But you also played a role in his life one way or another." He reached out and placed a weathered hand on her shoulder. "I know the pain you carry. The grief, the sorrow, the guilt that threatens to consume you. You cannot change the past, my friend. But you can choose how you move forward from here. Hellhounds don't look back from Eternal Hunt, they chase forward, never stopping."
Loona opened her mouth, then closed it again, her expression torn.
"In our society, we are taught from a young age that a Hellhound must be strong, self-reliant. That we have no need for the company of others." His ears flattened slightly. "But that is a lie. There is no such thing as a 'lone wolf' among our kind. Even the outcasts, the misfits – we still seek solace, happiness, in the confines of friends and family," Marchosias continued. He sighed heavily, his gaze drifting towards the door where Moxxie and Millie where. "And you... you have found that in Moxxie, have you not?"
Loona's eyes widened, her ears perking up slightly. But nodded mutely, as there...she felt that Marchosias listens her very well.
"Then be there for him, when he needs you," Marchosias urged. "Or find your own path, if that is what you truly desire. But do not let your guilt and sorrow consume you. Moxxie lives because of you – do not dishonor that by tormenting yourself endlessly." Marchosias's lips curled into a faint smile. "And I'm still thankfull you took that sword. As for the payment I owe you, come meet me in a few hours' time in my study room. It will be ready."
Marchosias gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, an encouragement from fellow Hellhound to the another even if it felt...unequal. With that, he turned to leave, but Loona's voice stopped him. There is still questions left unanswered for Loona.
"Wait," She said, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why do you care so much? About Moxxie, about... about any of us? You're an Ars Goetia noble, aren't you?"
Marchosias paused, lowering his head a bit. Then he slowly rolled up the sleeve of his robe, revealing a faint, yet distinctive brand on his forearm – the symbol of the Hellhound Adoption Center.
"You..." Loona's eyes widened in shock. "You're..."
"Like you. I, too, know the pain of being an outcast among my own kind." Marchosias said, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. He pulled his sleeve back down. "But I have found my own path, my own peace. And now, I seek to help others do the same."
With those final words, Marchosias turned and departed, leaving Loona alone in the corridor. For a long moment, she stood frozen, her mind reeling from Marchosias's revelation. An outcast, just like her. Someone who had managed to forge his own way, to find a sense of peace and purpose...
Slowly, she sank down into one of the chairs, her gaze fixed on the room door where Moxxie and Millie were. All this time, she had viewed herself as an outsider, a misfit doomed to wander alone. But Marchosias' words had cracked that narrative, forcing her to confront a truth she had been desperately trying to ignore.
She always forgets that she is one of million hounds with same issues. There were others who had overcome the burden of being labeled as less than, as unworthy. And Moxxie...Moxxie had somehow wormed his way into her life, had become one of them. A part of her pack, her family, in a way she had never allowed herself to admit.
Loona's claws dug into the armrests of the chair as the weight of her past actions settled upon her. The sarcasm, the dismissal, the constant belittling – it had all been a shield, a way to keep the world at arm's length, to avoid the pain of true connection. But in doing so, she had hurt the very people who might have understood her best. All the time she had wasted, all the opportunities she had squandered, because she had been too afraid to open her heart, to let someone in.
...
...
Is this how Vortex and Bee are happy?
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle/Courtyard
As Octavia stepped out into the courtyard of Marchosias's castle, she couldn't help but pause and take in her surroundings. The courtyard also teemed with activity. A team of grease-stained Hellhound Nomads bustled around a hulking War Rig, their tools clanging against its armor-plated frame as they worked to repair some damage.
And there, seated upon a battered old crate near the Rig, was Amy Goetia. The President of New Limbo reclined casually, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from her lips as she observed the Nomads' efforts.
"Well, well, if it isn't the little owl Marquise herself." Amy's gaze shifted, an amused grin spreading across her face. She exhaled a slow stream of smoke before continuing. "I see this hunk of junk is the one that pulled your feathery ass out of the fire yesterday. Saved you and your little friends from becoming Buzzard chow, didn't it?"
"And let me guess...this beast is your idea?" Octavia straightened her shoulders, trying to maintain an air of regal composure, but the slight quirk of her beak betrayed her amusement.
"Nah, I gave March some money and Nomads build this thing. It does it's job, though." Amy smirked, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her beak. She paused, her gaze flickering towards the castle's entrance. "Speaking of which, how's your imp friend doing? I assume it was a close call from the way that wolf girl sounded."
"He is... recovering, thanks to Marchosias's intervention." Octavia hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "I... I wanted to thank you, Amy. For allowing me to remain here with Marchosias, even though I know Barbatos expects Gaap and I to see him immediately."
"Did I now?" Amy's brow arched slightly, and she took another long drag on her cigarette. She then waved a dismissive hand, her expression nonchalant. "Eh, don't worry about it. I can tell you're one of those 'demon's person' - the type who actually gives a shit about for 'bottom ladder'." She took a long drag on her cigarette, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Besides, it's not like Barbatos is going anywhere. The old bastard can wait as he might be sucking Militech investors to give him money."
"I... I see. But still, I appreciate you being kind and welcome if you don't have to be. You and March" Octavia blinked, caught off guard by Amy's frank assessment.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Amy chuckled, her gaze shifting back to the bustling Nomads working on the War Rig. "Marchosias and I go way back, and he's always had a soft spot for lost causes. Though I wish he was...more level headed."
"How so?" Octavia asked.
"Call it an voice of opinion, Octavia." Amy's eyes narrowed as she looked at the entrance, releasing a breath. "Sometimes, I feel like Ars Goetia is fucking him right into ass and he is holding the pain. In my heart, I wished he switched...priorities."
"I think it's just March...being March, Amy." Octavia joined Amy on the seat. "Can't really force him."
"No doubt. Well, you're in good hands with him, at least. If anyone can untangle this clusterfuck, it's him." Amy nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. There was a brief, slightly awkward pause as Amy took another drag on her cigarette, the glowing ember flaring in the dimly lit courtyard. Octavia sat next to her, unsure of how to continue the conversation.
"Bet you didn't expect all this, huh Octavia?" Amy broke the silence, chuckling softly.
"What do you mean?" Octavia glanced at her, curious.
"This whole mess - you, becoming the new Marquise of Ars Goetia, getting caught up in all the political bullshit." Amy gestured vaguely around the courtyard. "It's a far cry from your quiet little life in the Pride Ring, isn't it?"
Octavia let out a heavy sigh, her talons tracing idle patterns in the packed earth of the courtyard.
"You're right, Amy. My life has...certainly taken some unexpected turns recently. When I went to Lemegeton with my father for trial, I never imagined I'd end up as the new Marquise of Ars Goetia."
"What?" Amy muttered to herself. "What trial?"
"You don't know?" Octavia widened her eyes slightly. It's been like what....a week ago and she assumed it would had reached even to Ars Colonia at this point.
"No, we rarely get the news from the "Infernoland" here. So I'm little bit out of loop what is happening in Lemegeton."
"Good...then you missed the big shitshow, in fact." Octavia's expression darkened as she continued. "Well there is not much to tell you, Amy. It all started with my mother, Stella. She... she tried to have my father killed. Things went so bad that even Vassago's little court trial didn't help to fix the problem...thus it was now Electrorate's concern as they announced new trial: this time on official level."
"Fucking Electorate..." Amy cursed, seeing the full picture.
"Yeah. The trial itself was a complete disaster, involving bribes and conspiracies...I nearly lost everything to it." She shook her head ruefully. "And that little shit with me, Gaap, tried to blackmail Electors to execute my parents..."
"I knew it! The moment I saw that wretched fucker with my own eyes I already knew I'm dealing with opportunist." Amy wasn't surprised at this point. The audacity of Gaap to call her an spy already gave everything Amy needs to know about him. "But I see what you had to go trough...I'm sorry you lost your parents, Octavia."
"I didn't, Amy. Princess of Hell saved them...and me too." Octavia glanced over at Amy, showing a weak smile, even if the next part is slightly better. "And one thing leads to another and now I'm Marquise. Now, the Electorate has ordered me to seek out the Book of Solomon, alongside Gaap. Sometimes, I wonder if I've made the right choice, being thrust into this shitshow of politics and intrigue."
"So, what's keeping you here, then? If it were me, I'd have high-tailed it out of this place long ago." Amy fixed Octavia with a curious stare, tilting her head slightly.
"I've... I've asked myself that same question many times, Amy. Especially after everything that's happened." Octavia hesitated, her talons fidgeting slightly. She paused, her gaze drifting towards the ornate castle walls. "But the truth is, if it weren't for Charlie, I probably would have left a long time ago." She let out a soft chuckle. "Probably would had asked Loona if I could crash in her room for a while."
"I see..." Amy's brow twitched slightly at the mention of Charlie, but her expression remained neutral. She took a long drag on her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "Though I gotta say, if I were in your feathery shoes, I'd be tempted to just tell Ars Goetia to go fuck itself."
"Believe me, I've thought about it. More times than I can count." Octavia couldn't help but laugh at Amy's blunt assessment. "But I just... I can't give up on them. Not when I know they need reform so desperately and a lot problems could be solved."
"Yeah, I figured as much. You're not the type to just abandon ship, are you?" Amy nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Though I gotta warn you - you're treading a fine line. Ars Goetia's practically on the brink of implosion as it is."
"What do you mean? I know the Electorate is in disarray, but surely it can't be that bad." Octavia's brow furrowed in concern.
Amy chuckled humorlessly. "Oh, it's that bad, Octavia. And you know why? Aristocratic entitlement. That's what's gonna be the death of Ars Goetia. The Electorate and the upper echelons of Ars Goetia are so caught up in their own bullshit, their own petty squabbles and power plays, that they've forgotten what's really important. The people they're supposed to be serving."
"But Charlie can fix it if she inherits the throne." Octavia argued.
"The Princess of Hell needs to fix herself first than worry for mere demons like us, Octavia." Amy bitterly returned, her exhales getting more anxious and less steady. "Why? Because she's just as much a part of the problem too. I've got nothing against Princess Charlie herself, but even I can see how entitled she is. Prattling on about the 'good' in demons while she sat in her mansion all life, spoiled rotten by the King of Hell. Demons are 'bad' because they don't give a shit about each other. And that leads to the exploitation and oppression we see from the upper echelons of Ars Goetia."
Octavia listened intently, the weight of Amy's words settling heavily upon her.
"To prove my point. Take New Limbo, for example - the colony that's technically under Ars Goetia's control," Amy gestured towards the bustling activity in the courtyard. "The 'colonists' you see working on the streets? They're not here by their own free will, Octavia."
You mean they're...?"
"Forced labor, indentured servants - call it what you will." Amy nodded grimly. "Ars Goetia's been building slave plantations all around New Limbo, squeezing every last drop of profit out of the land and the demons."
"So that's what I saw on that train..." Octavia's talons clenched into fists as she recalled the disturbing sight from the cargo train compartment - the cages, the tools of bondage.
"Yep, that's the ugly truth of it." Amy's expression darkened. "The Electorate couldn't care less about the wellbeing of the common folk, as long as the coin keeps lining their pockets." She paused, taking a long, weary drag on her cigarette. "And I'm the one who has to oversee this whole goddamn mess as the Mayor of New Limbo."
"But how can you just... stand by and let this happen?" Octavia stared at Amy, a mix of horror and disbelief etched on her.
"What choice do I have, Octavia? I'm just a pawn in their game." Amy let out a humorless laugh. She shook her head, her gaze hardening. "Once my 'term' as Mayor is up, I'm outta here. I'll pack my bags, go back to Pride Ring, and tell the whole Electorate to go fuck themselves before resigning myself as the 58th Spirit. I'm done with Ars Goetia at this point."
Octavia felt a heaviness settle in the pit of her stomach as Amy's words sank in. The corruption and callousness of the Electorate was worse than she'd ever imagined. And the thought of innocent lives being exploited in such a brutal manner made her sick to her core.
"Now I see why you want Ars Goetia's death," Octavia murmured, her eyes fixed on the ground.
"There are many reasons," Amy sighed, studying Octavia's despondent expression. "And that's one of them." She paused, a faint glimmer of respect flickering in her gaze. "If you truly believe that your Princess of Hell will save us, then more power to you. But as for me, the entire aristocracy of Inferno is the problem."
"But you're one of us..." Octavia wanted to point out Amy's own nobility origins.
"Barely," Amy scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "The title of President means shit. Kings, Dukes, Marquises, Counts - they have the real power. Me? I'm nothing. Heaven, I'm surprised the Electorate hasn't put me on the 'Notoria' list yet."
Octavia's eyes widened at the mention of the dreaded 'Notoria' - traitors to Ars Goetia. The history is old and...there is nothing really to tell about them.
"But you're not a traitor, Amy," Octavia insisted, her voice soft but earnest. "You're troubled, I know. But...I don't see you being traitor."
"Thanks but I'm not so sure about that, Octavia," Amy lowered her gaze, taking a deep, weary breath. "Sometimes, I'm really not sure anymore."
The silence that fell between Octavia and Amy was palpable. Octavia studied her peer, concern etched across her as Amy seemed lost in contemplation. Suddenly, the moment was shattered by the arrival of Gaap and Olivia. The imp sauntered into the courtyard, Olivia trailing behind him with a look of obvious annoyance.
"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite Marquise and the ever-charming President of New Limbo," Gaap drawled, a smug grin spreading across his face. "I can see you two are already deep in discussion. Plotting against the Electorate, are we?"
"Fuck off, Gaap. This is none of your concern." Octavia shot Gaap a withering glare.
"Fuck you, Gaap. Get lost Gaap." Gaap raised his hands in mock surrender, mimicking Octavia's voice. "My Ars, you sound like a broken record at this point. I'm merely here to remind you that we shouldn't waste any more time." He turned his gaze to Amy, the amusement in his expression bordering on condescension. "Barbatos is waiting, you see. And I'm sure he's quite eager to get this little errand underway."
Octavia opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but Gaap cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Yes, yes, the sooner we get this done, the sooner I will leave you alone. Now, if you'll both kindly stand up..." He turned on his heel and began striding towards the castle's entrance.
Amy's brow furrowed as she glanced between Octavia and Olivia. With a resigned sigh, she pushed herself off the crate, dusting off her pants.
"Point taken. Who knows how long the old bastard's patience will hold."
"Guess that's our cue, then." Octavia also got on her feet. "I'm sorry, Amy. I wish we had more time..."
"Don't worry about it, owly. Plenty of time later." Amy offered her a wry smile, reaching out to give Octavia a pat. She jerked her head towards the waiting car. "Come on, I drive."
The President would lead Octavia with Olivia towards the entrance where Amy's own sleek black car parked just outside the castle gates. Her car didn't scream Ars Goetia...maybe it was an plus in a way. Much to Octavia's surprise, she could hear even Gaap whistled in admiration. Him admiring something must be highlight of his life.
"So..." Octavia awkwardly started. "Who will be on the front passenger seat?"
"Since I like you already, Octavia. You ride up front with me. As for you two, you can squeeze in the back." Amy waved a dismissive hand, not wanting her to bother with that. Gaap opened his mouth to protest, but Amy cut him off. "Don't even start, moron. You can either take the backseat or walk your ass to Barbatos. Your choice."
"I do hope so an rope on your neck is your ultimate fate." Gaap conceded, grumbling under his breath.
Octavia shot Amy a grateful look and slid into the passenger seat, steeling herself for the journey ahead. Once everyone was settled, Amy fired up the engine, the powerful car rumbling to life. She carefully turned the car around and made the way to the main road. As they pulled away from the looming fortress of Marchosias's castle, Octavia couldn't help but glance out the window.
The city of New Limbo stretched out before them, a sprawling metropolis that seemed to have sprung up from the very depths of Hell itself. Towering skyscrapers, their facades adorned with gaudy neon lights, reached up towards the crimson sky. Bustling streets teemed with a diverse array of demons, from well-dressed elites to grizzled, weathered laborers. But beneath the glitz and glamour, there was an undercurrent of unease. Octavia noticed the increased military presence, with heavily armed patrols and strategically placed barricades dotting the landscape.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Amy remarked, catching Octavia's stare. "Marchosias always did say I made an great job with city.""He wasn't wrong. This is... quite a sight to behold." Octavia nodded, her gaze still fixed on the chaotic scene unfolding outside the car window.
Amy let out a wry chuckle. "Yeah, well, don't give me too much credit. The money for all this came pouring in from Lemegeton's patrons. I just made sure the deadlines were met and the construction stayed on track. New Limbo's got its own kind of rot." Amy continued, her lips hardening as she navigated through the neon-lit streets. "Different from Lemegeton's aristocratic bullshit, but just as deep."
"I assume it's an corruption?"
"That too." Amy sighed. She gestured towards the glittering facades of casinos and nightclubs. "Behind all this glamour, there's a criminal underworld that would make even some Overlords of Pride blush. Crime rate's almost as high as Pentagram City - just better hidden behind all these fancy lights. But it makes this city to thrive half the crime here keeps their precious economy running."
"My-my, Amy." Gaap leaned closer the window, a knowing smirk playing across his face. "You seem awfully well-informed about these criminal enterprises. One might wonder if you've made a few... unofficial arrangements yourself. Perhaps some deals that our dear Electorate might not approve of?" His voice dripped with insinuation.
"Careful, Gaap," Amy warned, her voice dangerously low. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel "You might want to remember who's driving this car."
"Oh, come now, Amy. We're all friends here. And besides..." Gaap, ever persistent, pressed on. His grin widened. "It's not like any of us can claim to have entirely clean hands in this cesspool."
"I do." Octavia smugly grinned.
"Nope, not anymore, you don't." Gaap reminded of the secrets she and him hold.
"Ars, please let me leave this fucking city already." Amy just rolled her eyes before she glanced at Octavia in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, I know things. I've done things. When you're trying to keep a city running while Ars Goetia bleeds it dry, you learn to work with what you've got...Sometimes that means making deals with demons who aren't wearing fancy titles."
"And the Electorate?" Octavia asked quietly.
"What they don't know won't hurt them," Amy replied with a bitter smile. "They don't ask too many questions about where the money comes from. As long as precious profits keep flowing to Lemegeton."
"Fascinating. I do wonder what Barbatos would make of all this..." Gaap settled back in his seat, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"You really wanna find out how fast I can stop this car, Gaap?" Amy's voice carried an edge sharp enough to cut through steel. "Besides, he knows...he himself is not clean."
Octavia watched the exchange with growing unease, the layers of corruption and compromise seeming to deepen with every revelation. At this point she should not be suprised.
Nevertheless, they arriving to the heart of New Limbo's colonial district, the Hacienda loomed before them - a striking fusion of Hell's architectural excess and colonial gravitas. The sprawling structure stretched across several acres, its walls a deep crimson stucco that seemed to absorb the ambient light of Hell itself. Ornate baroque flourishes decorated the façade, with carved demon faces leering from between classical columns. The building's wings curved forward like embracing arms, creating a vast courtyard punctuated by meticulously maintained gardens of thorny, black roses.
Amy guided the car through the cobblestone approach, passing under iron archways festooned with the banners of Ars Goetia and Ars Colonia- the former's dignified heraldry a stark contrast to the colony's more practical emblem of human skull and flames.
"Home sweet fucking home," Amy muttered, pulling into her reserved space near the entrance.
The engine's purr died away, leaving them in a silence broken only by distant gunfire and the occasional screech of Hell's native fauna. As they exited the vehicle, Octavia couldn't help but notice how the morning light caught the building's countless windows, each pane reflecting back the crimson sky like drops of blood. The effect was both beautiful and distinctly unsettling.
At the main gates, a pair of Colonial Guards stood at attention with pristine tricorn hats and polished muskets.
"Madam President," The guard on the left inclined his head respectfully, musket held at perfect parade rest. "How fares your morning?"
"Same shit, different day," Amy replied with practiced weariness. "Barbatos available? Got two of those he's expecting." She jerked a thumb toward Octavia and Gaap.
*BLAM*
The sharp crack of a flintlock pistol split the air, followed by the sound of breaking glass and distant cursing from within the building. The guards exchanged knowing looks.
"Ah... his Excellency is currently occupied with a visitor from Lemegeton," the second guard explained, shifting uncomfortably. "Demonstration, you see. "
Amy pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience.
"Right. Well, he's expecting the Marquise of Ars Goetia and her... unfortunate associate." She gestured to Octavia and Gaap, though Gaap waved his hand, telling in silence to guards that this is bullshit on Amy's part. "So unless you want to explain to him why they were kept waiting..."
"Of course, Madam President. Right this way, your Excellence," The guards straightened immediately as they properly registered Octavia's and Gaap's presence. They moved to unlock the heavy iron gates, their mechanisms grinding with an ominous screech. "Though you may wish to... duck if you hear any more gunfire. There was an accident earlier."
"Noted," Octavia replied dryly, following Amy through the gates. Behind them, Gaap made a show of brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve, while Olivia kept close to Octavia's side, her eyes darting warily between the armed guards.
As they passed through the threshold, another gunshot rang out, followed by the distinct sound of furniture being destroyed. Amy didn't even break stride.She led them through the Hacienda's winding corridors until they emerged into what had once been an immaculately maintained field courtyard. Now, it more closely resembled a war zone. The pristine colonial gardens had been transformed into an impromptu firing range, with smoking craters pockmarking the once-manicured lawn. Shattered target dummies lay strewn about, their stuffing spilling onto the scorched grass like grotesque innards. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and burned vegetation.
In the midst of this controlled chaos stood Duke Barbatos himself - a sight that made Octavia pause mid-step. The Duke was a tall, imposing figure of a parrot demon, his plumage a deep green. His proud, hooked beak bore the weathered patina of age, and a meticulously maintained beard of iridescent feathers cascaded down his chest, shot through with streaks of silver that spoke to his centuries of existence. His eyes, keen and calculating, held the predatory intelligence that had earned him his reputation as one of Hell's most formidable hunters and innovators too.
The Duke's attire seemed deliberately chosen to project an image of perpetual readiness for the hunt. He wore a elaborately embroidered hunting jacket in deep crimson, its gold buttons bearing the seal of Ars Goetia. Multiple bandoliers crossed his chest, each loaded with precisely arranged ammunition. His tricorn hat, adorned with exotic Hell-beast feathers, sat at a rakish angle that somehow managed to look both carefully calculated and carelessly dashing.
"No, no, NO!" Barbatos bellowed, his voice carrying the distinctive rasp of someone who had spent centuries shouting orders acrosss. He held a smoking flintlock pistol in his taloned grip, examining it with clear dissatisfaction. "The balance is still off by a fraction! How do you expect our forces to maintain accuracy with such imperfection?"
"But Your Excellence, the test firings show a 98% accuracy rate..." A nervous-looking imp weapons smith hovering nearby frantically scribbled notes on a pad.
"And that remaining 2% could mean the difference between victory and defeat!" Barbatos snapped, reaching for another pistol from an ornate wooden case. The weapon was a masterpiece of demonic craftsmanship, its barrel inscribed with intricate runic patterns that seemed to writhe in the light. "In the time of Ars Belial, our weapons were beyond reproach. I will not have Ars Goetia's standards slip under my watch!"
The sharp crack of another shot split the air as Barbatos fired at a distant target. The bullet struck dead center, leaving a smoking hole.
"Duke Barbatos," Amy called out, her voice cutting through the gunsmoke. "Your expected guests have arrived."
Barbatos turned, his keen eyes immediately fixing on Octavia. A complex series of emotions flickered across him - recognition, calculation, and something that might have been approval. He carefully placed the pistol back in its case before striding toward them.
"Ah, the young Marquise and Prince." He said, giving them a slight bow that somehow managed to be both respectful and evaluating. "I trust your journey through New Limbo was... illuminating?"
The Duke's gaze swept over their small group, lingering briefly on Olivia before settling back on Octavia. Despite his courteous manner, there was an underlying tension in his posture, like a coiled spring ready to release. The weapons testing, Octavia realized, might have been as much about working off nervous energy as actual quality control.
"Though I must apologize for the state of my courtyard," Barbatos continued, gesturing at the destruction around them with an elegant wave of his hand. "One must ensure our colonial forces maintain the highest standards. The wilds of Hell beyond the city walls are... unforgiving, to say the least."
Another distant explosion punctuated his words, sending a shower of dirt and debris raining down on the already devastated garden. Barbatos didn't even flinch.
"Thank you for receiving us, Duke Barbatos," Octavia replied with a formal nod, then made the fatal mistake of glancing at the ornate pistol case. "Those are quite impressive weapons you have right--"
"You really shouldn't have-" Amy muttered under her breath, reaching out too late to stop Octavia.
Barbatos's eyes lit up with an almost manic gleam, his entire demeanor transforming from formal dignity to barely contained enthusiasm. The change was as sudden as it was striking - like watching a proper nobleman transform into an excited child on Christmas morning.
"AH! You have an eye for quality armaments, young Marquise!" Barbatos practically bounced on his talons, sweeping back to the weapon case with theatrical flourish. "These are reproductions of the original Goetic Firefarms, crafted in the forges of Lemegeton itself! Here, here - look at this specimen!"
He reverently lifted one of the pistols, cradling it like a newborn. "This is the Model 20XX Dueling Pistol, featuring a rifled barrel inscribed with the Seals of Solomon themselves! The scrollwork on the lock plate? Each curl represents one of the original seventy-two demons of the Ars Theurgia Goetia. And the grip - oh, the grip! Wrapped in leather from a Pride Ring basilisk, cured in holy water to ensure maximum durability and comfort!"
Amy pinched the bridge of her nose, mouthing 'I'm sorry' to Octavia as Barbatos continued, his voice rising with excitement.
"The firing mechanism incorporates a unique double-action system enhanced by magic - notice how the hammer draws back with just the perfect amount of resistance? And the balance!" He thrust the pistol toward Octavia, who instinctively took a step back. "Perfect distribution of weight from barrel to butt! Even Solomon himself would weep at such precision!"
"That's... fascinating," Octavia managed weakly, shooting a desperate glance at Amy.
"Oh, but wait until you see the ammunition!" Barbatos was practically vibrating now, reaching for an ornate powder horn. "We use a proprietary blend of hellfire-infused black powder. The bullets themselves are cast from blessed silver, each one inscribed with microscopic banishing sigils. Perfect for dealing with those troublesome angelic incursions!"
"Your Excellence," Amy tried to intervene, "Perhaps we should discuss the matter at hand-"
"AND!" Barbatos steamrolled right over her attempt, "The ramrod is crafted from the heartwood of a Gehenna thornbush, making it impervious to demonic corruption! Did you know that each pistol requires exactly sixty-six and a half turns of the ramrod to achieve optimal load seating? The half-turn is CRUCIAL to proper alignment of the mystical energies!"
Gaap, who had been watching this display with poorly concealed amusement, finally let out a snicker. "Fascinating as this lesson in colonial armaments is, shouldn't we-"
"Speaking of colonial armaments!" Barbatos whirled on Gaap, his eyes blazing with evangelical fervor. "Let me show you our new line of carbines! The barrel length has been optimized based on extensive field testing in the outer territories! We've managed to increase muzzle velocity by thirteen percent while maintaining the same enchanted accuracy enhancement matrices!"
Octavia watched in horrified fascination as the Duke practically skipped to another weapon rack, her earlier attempt at polite conversation having unleashed what was clearly a well-worn hobby horse. Amy sidled closer to her, speaking in a low whisper.
"Rule number one of dealing with Barbatos: never, ever comment on the guns. He once kept the entire Electorate trapped in session for six hours explaining the evolution of firing pin designs."
"Now I know," Octavia whispered back, watching as Barbatos began a detailed explanation of rifling techniques to an increasingly desperate-looking Gaap. "Should we... try to stop him?"
"Just wait it out," Amy sighed, leaning against a nearby pillar. "He'll run out of steam eventually. Usually around the time he gets to powder grain size optimization."
Barbatos's enthusiastic voice carried across the courtyard: "And THAT brings us to the fascinating subject of flash pan design! Did you know there are exactly twenty-seven different variations of pan covers currently in use by colonial forces?"
Octavia settled in for what was clearly going to be a very, very long morning.
Fuck Octavia's life.
"...and that's merely the BEGINNING of how the proper maintenance of a flintlock's frizzen spring can affect the reliability of ignition!" Barbatos was still going strong, now surrounded by what seemed like half the colonial armory spread out in meticulous display around him. His earlier enthusiasm hadn't dimmed one bit - if anything, it had intensified.
Octavia sat slumped against a pillar, her eyes glazed over. Beside her, Amy had given up all pretense of attention and was openly playing games on her hellphone. Olivia had curled up into a small ball and appeared to be attempting to nap, while Gaap had developed a concerning eye twitch.
"Now, regarding the proper technique for flint knapping-" Barbatos reached for yet another case.
"Duke Barbatos," Octavia finally interrupted, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "While this has been... incredibly thorough..."
"Oh, but I haven't even gotten to the different varieties of powder horns yet!" Barbatos beamed, his feathers practically fluffed with joy. "Did you know that the curvature of a horn can significantly impact powder flow rates? I have a seventeen-point presentation on optimal horn angles!"
"Oh heaven no-" Amy's head snapped up in horror.
"Speaking of presentations," Barbatos continued, pulling out what appeared to be a rolled-up chart from somewhere in his coat, "I had the weapons ministry prepare some detailed diagrams-"
"BARBATOS!" Amy finally shouted, jumping to her feet. "For the love of all things unholy, PLEASE! We've been here for two hours!"
"Only two?" Barbatos blinked in genuine surprise, checking a pocket watch. "But I've barely covered the basics!"
"Exorcist...if you're out there...please just stab me already." Octavia let out a small whimper.
"There's still the entire subject of proper powder grain sizing to discuss!" Barbatos continued, seemingly oblivious to their collective despair. "And the revolutionary improvements in flash pan design that occurred during the Third Infernal Reformation! And oh! The varying effects of different blessed metals on supernatural targets! I have a complete ballistics study..."
"I believe I can see my spirt leaving my body." Gaap, who had been silent for the past hour, said in a strangled voice.
"Nonsense!" Barbatos waved dismissively. "That only happens with improper powder loading techniques, which reminds me - I have an excellent treatise on the correct mathematical formulas for powder measurement! Now, if you'll all direct your attention to this logarithmic chart of grain size distribution..."
"Please," Olivia whispered from her curled position. "Someone make it stop..."
But Barbatos was already pulling out another set of diagrams, his eyes gleaming with the special madness of someone about to launch into their favorite subject all over again.
"Still torturing visitors with your firearms obsession, Barbatos?"
Barbatos was about to start when a commanding voice cut through his weapon-induced fervor. And thank fuck for this new comer to break this absurdity. Standing in the entrance archway was an imposing figure that commanded attention through presence alone. The Snowy Owl demon cut a striking figure against the Hacienda's colonial architecture, his pristine white plumage seeming to glow with an almost ethereal quality in Hell's crimson light. Unlike Barbatos's hunting expedition attire, he wore the traditional robes of an Ars Goetia Duke.
It took only one second before Olivia realized...two seconds would been an insane failure on her part.
"D-Daddy?" Olivia immediately straightened from her slumped position, her eyes widening.
"Wait, what?" Octavia shook her head, either hallucinating from what just Olivia said...or it's Olivia being horny again? Meanwhile Gaap just wheezed out...find it funny.
"Still giving lectures that could outlast eternal damnation itself, I see," The Duke's voice carried a hint of amusement as he stepped into the courtyard. "Need I remind you of the Great Electorate Escape of 1866? I believe several Dukes actually attempted to gnaw their way through the chamber walls while you were explaining the 'fascinating' variations of powder grain sizes."
Barbatos huffed, his feathers ruffling with indignation. "That was a crucial presentation, Focalor! If they had simply paid attention to my logarithmic diagrams about proper powder distribution, we could have avoided that embarrassing incident with the exploding muskets during the Third Circle...and speaking of explosions, how was the test?"
"Let my son Forcas tell you by himself." Focalor's gaze shifted to a figure stumbling through the archway behind him. Through entrance emerged what appeared to be a walking pile of ash and scorch marks. As the figure drew closer, the vague outline of ornate knight armor became visible beneath the soot. The armor's owner, a younger owl demon who bore a striking resemblance to Focalor, swayed unsteadily on his feet.
"Ah, little brother is here." Olivia whispered to herself, still delightful to see them both.
"The Land Ship is..." The Knight Forcas, paused to cough up a small cloud of ash, "Experiencing some minor technical difficulties."
"Minor?" Barbatos arched an eyebrow.
"Well," Forcas attempted to brush some of the soot from his armor, only succeeding in smearing it further, "If by 'minor' you mean 'catastrophically exploded and nearly took out half the testing grounds,' then yes. Minor."
"Told you that Ship-On-FUCKING-Land would not work, Barb!" Focalor sighed...why in Ars' name that they could not go back "Hack and Slash" warfare?
"Merely a calibration issue! Once we adjust the hellfire-to-gunpowder ratio—" Barbatos waved a dismissive hand.
"Barbatos," Focalor cut in firmly, "Stop it, arleady. You should focus on more immediate matters?" He gestured meaningfully toward Octavia, who had finally managed to shake off her weapons-lecture induced stupor. "Such as properly greeting your expected guests? You should know that-"
Finally, at this very moment, Focalor's eyes landed on Olivia, his beak parted slightly in visible shock, though no words escaped from him. The subtle ruffle of his pristine white feathers betrayed his surprise at finding his daughter in such unexpected company.
Olivia, displaying the poise that marked her training as a Lady-in-Waiting, gracefully adjusted from her position and executed a perfect formal curtsy. Her movements were precise, measured - every inch the proper noble daughter despite the informal circumstances they'd found themselves in moments before.
"Duke Focalor," Olivia addressed him with perfect composure, her voice carrying the appropriate measure of respect due to a Duke of Ars Goetia. "You honor us with your presence."
Something flickered in Focalor's eyes - perhaps pride, perhaps concern, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the careful mask of nobility. Understanding his daughter's subtle cue for discretion, he inclined his head with practiced grace.
The ash-covered knight beside him, his son Forcas, looked between his sister and father with confusion evident even through the soot staining his armor, clearly struggling to maintain the same level of formal decorum. A small cloud of ash puffed from his armor as he shifted uncertainly, adding an almost comical counterpoint to the tense formality of the moment.
"Charmed," He replied simply, his tone carrying just the right note of formal acknowledgment. Then, with the fluid grace of a seasoned courtier, he turned his attention to Octavia. His gaze studied her for a moment, taking in the unmistakable eyes that marked her lineage.... "You must be Stella's child. Octavia, right?"
Barbatos, for once, seemed to read the room correctly and refrained from launching into another discourse on military hardware, though his talons tapped restlessly against the handle of a nearby pistol case.
"Yes," Octavia confirmed with quiet somber tone, meeting Focalor's piercing gaze. "I am Stella's daughter."
"Indeed." Focalor nodded slowly, his crimson eyes softening with something akin to distant memory. "I would recognize those eyes anywhere, at any time. Stella always had that same look about her - that particular way of holding herself, even when the world seemed intent on making her bend."
"Seems like you know my mother, Duke" Octavia crossed her arms.
"Childhood friend of hers...and yes, I know her quite...well." The Duke's expression grew more solemn, as he inclined his head respectfully. "I must offer my deepest condolences for what transpired at the Lemegeton Trial. What you were forced to endure..." He paused, choosing his words with careful precision. "No young noble should have faced such circumstances. The political machinations of our realm can be... unforgivingly cruel."
"For better or worse, things turned out rather differently than anyone expected. There's no need for apologies, Duke Focalor." Octavia replied, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips, her gaze flickered briefly to Olivia, who maintained her perfect Lady-in-Waiting posture despite the emotional undercurrent of the conversation. "And speaking of - I must thank you for having raised such a wonderful daughter. Olivia has been..." she paused, genuine warmth entering her voice, "an absolute sweetheart. I should mention that Phenex saw fit to redirect your gift to my service instead."
At this, Forcas made a small choking sound, coughing up another cloud of ash in surprise.
"Ah, I'm pleased to know she's now in good hands." Focalor's expression warmed subtly, his eyes briefly meeting his daughter's before returning to Octavia. "If Phenex is really okay with that, then you're welcome to have Olivia as long as you like, just treat her well.."
The subtle emphasis on 'good hands' made Olivia blush. It was the kind of carefully measured statement that spoke volumes in the complex language of Goetic nobility.
However, the warmth in Focalor's demeanor frosted over noticeably as his gaze finally settled on Gaap. His recognition of Paimon's grandson was immediate, and the shift in his bearing was subtle but unmistakable - the kind of chilly politeness reserved for those connected to long-standing political rivals.
"Young Gaap," Focalor acknowledged with rigid formality, the way he held himself now reminded everyone present why he was considered one of Hell's most formidable military commanders.
Gaap met Focalor's frosty reception with a razor-sharp smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Like a true scion of House Paimon, he managed to make his casual lean against a nearby pillar look both effortlessly elegant and subtly insolent.
"Duke Focalor. Still maintaining that impeccable military bearing, I see." He drawled, his tone walking that precise line between respect and mockery. "Because nothing says 'Best commander' quite like letting Barbatos use your son as a test subject for his... what was it again? Mobile Artillery Platform? Or as the rest of us call it, 'That Thing That Explodes'?" Gaap's smile widened fractionally.
A few stray bits of ash chose that moment to fall from Forcas's armor, as if emphasizing Gaap's point. The younger owl demon ruffled with barely contained indignation, but a subtle gesture from his father kept him silent.
Barbatos perked up at the mention of his invention. "Actually, the proper technical term is 'Self-Propelled Powder-Actuated Land Ship Mark III', and if you're interested in the design specifications—"
"NO!" Came the immediate chorus from everyone present, including Forcas, who looked like he'd rather face another explosion than sit through another technical explanation.
Gaap straightened slightly, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculate sleeve.
"Besides, Focalor," he continued smoothly, "I would have thought you'd appreciate my grandfather's... soon to be accession as Ars? After all, didn't you serve under his command during the Second Era Campaign? Or was that before he and Duke Andras had their little... disagreement?"
"Little shit trough and trough..." Focalor narrowed his eyes, already seeing Zepar's behaviour in him.
Before the tension could crystallize into something more dangerous, Octavia stepped forward.
"Duke Focalor, if I may ask - what brings you here? I wouldn't have expected to find Olivia's family so far from Lemegeton."
"A matter of some delicacy, actually," Focalor's posture shifted subtly as he turned to address Octavia, though his peripheral awareness of Gaap never wavered. "I'm here on Duke Astaroth's behalf, monitoring the... situation regarding the I.R.A.'s advances toward New Limbo and assessing Ars Colonia's response." His beak twisted slightly in displeasure. "So far, the assessment has been less than encouraging."
"Father, the Land Ship was just one setback—" Forcas shifted uncomfortably, causing another small avalanche of ash to drift from his armor.
"A setback that cost us three months of resources and nearly incinerated your cohort," Focalor cut in smoothly. He gestured toward his son with a hand. "Which brings us to Forcas's presence here. He's undertaking his Passage of Command."
"A what?"
"A tradition among Ars Goetia's Dukes." Focalor elaborated at Octavia's questioning look. "Before a heir of Duke can be considered for succession to a Ducal title, they must prove themselves capable of independent command. Forcas has been assigned as Commander of the Ars Colonia forces....Consider it a trial by fire. Sometimes quite literally, as this morning's explosion demonstrated."
"Seriously? Dad jokes, dad?" Forcas complained, only for his father to just wave his hand in dismiss, not wanting to talk about it right now.
"It's a perfectly viable concept," Barbatos interjected defensively. "We just need to adjust the hellfire containment matrices and possibly reconsider the powder distribution across the primary drive mechanism—"
"Barbatos. Shut up....PLEASE." Focalor cut in, his voice carrying the paing of someone who had endured far too many weapon lectures. "Your 'Land Ship,' has been deemed an absolute failure and a complete waste of money. And might I add, it was perhaps the most stupidly stupendous example of stupid to ever stupid its way into existence in any capacity whatsoever."
For every word, Barbatos felt disappointment. But Duke's tirage didn't end yet.
"Seriously. A ship. On land. With wheels." Focalor pinched the bridge of his beak, each phrase was punctuated with growing disbelief. "What's next? A carriage that flies through the air? A horse that runs on steam?"
Barbatos's beak opened, likely to defend his creation's honor, but Focalor raised a warning hand.
"It's a boat, Barbatos. For land. You built a boat. For land. We have carriages. We have wagons. Heaven, we have perfectly functional siege engines. But no - you decided what we really needed was a fucking ship that rolls across the ground like some demented merchant's fever dream."
"Finally, someone said it." Amy, who had been watching this exchange with poorly concealed amusement, muttered under her breath,
The weapons-obsessed Duke deflated slightly, though his eyes still darted hopefully toward his diagrams. In the background, Forcas attempted to discreetly dust more ash from his armor, only succeeding in creating a small gray cloud around himself.
Barbatos slumped as the last threads of his inventive enthusiasm finally gave way to reality.
"Perhaps...You may have a point about the Land Ship project." He admitted with visible difficulty, His talons idly traced the edge of one of his beloved diagram cases. "The results have been... less than optimal."
"Thank fucking god," Focalor exhaled, and despite the crude words, there was genuine relief in his tone. Coming from a Duke known for his rigid military propriety, the casual profanity carried the weight of countless sleepless nights spent reviewing explosion reports and equipment requisition forms. "Finally, some sense penetrates that powder-obsessed mind of yours."
The weapons-obsessed Duke began quietly gathering his diagrams, looking like a child being forced to pack away his favorite toys. In the background, Forcas visibly relaxed, though the movement sent another small cascade of ash drifting from his armor.
Smoothing his feathers back into their usual pristine arrangement, Focalor turned his attention to Octavia. His bearing shifted back to its usual formal precision.
"Now then, Marquise, what brings you to our humble colonial administration? Surely not Barbatos's... innovative demonstrations."
"To be honest, my Duke. We're meant to inform Barbatos that we have arrived and should be leaving for Expedition...which not the case at this point, anymore." Octavia began, her tone grave. "But now, I'm here to tell about a train attack in the outer Wasteland." She paused, glancing sidelong at Amy, who stepped forward to elaborate.
"Barbatos, The Train for Acheron-New Limbo line was ambushed by I.R.A" The colonial president explained, her usual weariness giving way to a hardened edge. "The train Octavia, Gaap, and Charlie were traveling on was derailed into a canyon. Charlie is..." Amy hesitated, her expression clouding with concern. "The Princess is missing. Octavia's group barely made it out alive."
"Missing?" Barbatos echoed, his voice uncharacteristically strained at the mention of Charlie's disappearance, "But how... why would the I.R.A. target that particular train? Was it because of the—"
"The 'shipment'?" Octavia cut in, her tone sharpening with suspicion. "Yes, I noticed the supplies on board. Slave collars, manacles... and a rather interesting letter from Duke Astaroth instructing you to 'continue the exploitation.'" Her eyes narrowed. "Care to explain that, Barbatos?"
"Yeah...interesting" Duke Focalor also crossed his arms...never hearing from Astaroth about it.
"I... I'm not sure." The weapons-obsessed Duke deflated, his earlier enthusiasm giving way to a rare display of genuine concern. "The train was meant to be carrying provisions for the City. Vital supplies that New Limbo desperately needs." He shook his head. "If that train is lost, the outer districts will be facing starvation within months."
"And what about that "Slave" part?" Duke Focalor demanded. "Be straight with me, Barb."
"Look..." Barbatos composed himself. "I'm just following orders from the Electorate, Focalor. The Laws of Inferno forbid enslavement of Hellborns...and New Limbo REALLY needs labour forces to colonize the Outer Limbo. So who really cares that Ars Goetia brings forced labourers on Limbo soil?"
"What the fuck, Duke?!" Octavia baffled.
"They are DISSIDENTS, young Marquise!" Barbatos corrected her quickly, hopping her to see reason. "You keep forgetting that Limbo was meant to be an "Penal" Ring at first. Everyone you see here tried to smear, revolt or tried to undermine us. And we allow them to be re-educated by working on plantations"
"And you telling me, Barbatos, that you knowingly allowed that train to have BOTH critical food and medical supplies with slave equipment, making so I.R.A had a GOOD reason to attack train?" Focalor's gaze sharpened, his military bearing radiating tension.
Barbatos opened his beak, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words. Forcas, shedding the last of his ashy coating, straightened with an expression of dawning horror.
"Father," the younger owl demon breathed, "If that train is lost, the colonists—"
"Will starve..." Focalor finished grimly. His feathers ruffled with barely contained fury. "Barbatos, If I was an Elector right now, I would have you court-martialled for this act of unconscionable negligence."
"For what?" Barbatos complained. "It's not my choice in the first place, Focalor. All I ever want is to create new invention...instead Electorate made to babysit this shitshow of the colony."
"Hate to interrupt the drama, but shouldn't we be more concerned about the fact that Charlie is still missing? And the I.R.A. now has sabotaged of a trainload of supplies that could cripple the entire colonial morale?" Amy cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to her.
"You make a fair point, President." Focalor's gaze settled on Amy. "But what exactly can we do at this point? New Limbo is cut off from its supply lines, the roads left open for the I.R.A. to lay siege. And now a Princess of Hell is missing..."
He trailed off, the unspoken implication hanging heavy in the air. The diplomatic fallout from Lilith's daughter vanishing under Ars Goetia's watch would be catastrophic. Focalor's expression hardened with the realization of how grave the situation had become.
"Then we prepare to defend the city," Octavia stepped forward, cutting through the tense silence. "Gather our forces, fortify the walls, and meet the I.R.A. head-on."
"Defend the city?" Gaap scoffed, drawing attention to himself. "That's not our concern, Octavia. Our priority has always been to find the Book of Solomon, not play at being colonial soldiers."
"He's right, Octavia. The I.R.A. is not an enemy to be taken lightly." Amy, to everyone's surprise, nodded in agreement with Gaap's reasons. "Their forces have been gaining strength in the Limbo for five years. Trying to stand against them directly could be suicide."
"So what? We just abandon the city to its fate? Leave these people to starve while we chase some ancient tome?" Octavia scoffed, her tone dripping with scorn. "Forgive me if I'm not as eager to prioritize Ars Goetia's obsessions over the lives of innocents."
"This isn't about my Ars Goetia's obsessions, Octavia. It's about our job." Gaap argued back, giving no shit about this City.
"No, this isn't up for debate!" Her tone brooked no argument. "My decision is final. I'll stay and fight for New Limbo, because unlike you, I actually care what happens to these people. So go. Pursue your obsession with that cursed book. But don't expect me to drop everything and come running when you call. Because right now, my priority is making sure there's even a city left for you to come back to."
Gaap's feathers ruffled in visible fury, his talons clenching and unclenching as he fought to maintain his composure. Clearly, this was not the outcome he had expected - or desired. Amy, for her part, remained impassive, though the slightest twitch of her lips suggested a reluctant admiration for Octavia's heart.
"Spoken like a true Marquise of Ars Goetia." Focalor commented, observing the entire exchange, his eyes shown his approval at Octavia's resolve. Never he thought that Stella's own child is...so brave. Sometimes, Focalor wonders if Octavia's Spirit could have entered to Materium way earlier...a lot of Ars Goetia problems could been solved in better outcome.
Seeing that Gaap and Octavia had no intention of departing yet, Barbatos stepped forward. He glanced meaningfully at Focalor.
“Perhaps I could be an assistance this time, Focalor,” Barbatos began, his voice a low murmur. “If they going to fight rebel, they obviously would not charge head. Surely the newer generation of Ars Goetia needs to adapt to changing times, don’t you agree?”
Focalor’s brows furrowed as he met Barbatos’s gaze, feeling the weight of the suggestion settle like a stone in his chest. Focalor had always been a staunch traditionalist, a warrior of sword and lance. He viewed newer forms of combat with something akin to disdain—novelties for those who had forgotten the honor of steel meeting steel. Yet, even he could not deny the shifting tides of warfare. The days of blood-soaked banners and clashing blades were waning; in their place rose the thunderous roar of gunpowder.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Focalor let out a sigh, heavy with reluctant acceptance. He turned his gaze to Octavia, who was still standing firm. Focalor already saw she had proved herself resilient, even formidable, in the face of unimaginable circumstances. There was a spark in her, a defiance that might one day shape her into a force greater than anyone in House Paimon could have predicted.
“You’ve shown remarkable spirit, young Marquise. Spirit alone, however, will not be enough to protect what you hold dear. I had hoped to spare you from this, but it seems the time for such has passed.”
“What do you mean?” Octavia’s eyes widened slightly.
"Tell me, you two." Barbatos turned his gaze towards Octavia and Gaap, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "What do you believe makes the Ars Goetia great? What has allowed our kind to endure for eons, ruling over Hell’s most powerful domains?"
Octavia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She had been asked countless questions about legacy and heritage before, but this one struck differently. The recent turmoil, the betrayals she faced in Lemegeton Trial, —it all painted her mind already.
"Absurdity and hypocrisy." Octavia replied dryly, with a tilt of her head.
"And she told I'm the one not that far away from Notoria..."
"Money and horniness," Gaap said with a shrug, as though the answer were self-evident. "That's what truly runs the Ars Goetia."
Barbatos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He had expected some wit, especially from Octavia, but perhaps not this level of irreverence. His gaze turned stern, his eyes hardening into something far more serious.
"No, no. You misunderstand it." He corrected, his voice taking on a sharp, authoritative edge as he looked between the two. “There are three things make the Ars Goetia great:"
"Heresy, Sorcery, and Gunpowder.”
Octavia felt a shiver run down her spine at the gravity of his tone. The way Barbatos said it...actually made Octavia feel somewhat...proud for Ars Goetia. She can't say why but the way he said it made her feathers shiver...maybe it "Feel good" moment.
"Heresy for we're among the first to reject the madness of Heaven. First to realize it." Barbatos continued, gesturing with a graceful hand, “Sorcery for the arcane arts are the foundation of our power. Only we can bend reality to our will, defying the very laws of Hell. And finally, gunpowder,” He concluded, gesturing towards the musket in his hand. “The harbinger of a new age. A tool that will ensure our dominion continues, even as the Inferno around us changes. And now. it is time for you two to learn what it means to wield that power.”
Barbatos stepped forward and he unlatched a sleek, dark wooden case. The lid creaked open, revealing two exquisite pairs of Ars Goetia flintlock pistols, each one gleaming with a polished, obsidian-like finish. The pistols were etched with intricate runes, their barrels lined with silver filigree and adorned with tiny crimson gemstones that pulsed like beating hearts. These were not mere firearms; they were works of art, deadly instruments infused with the essence of the Ars Goetia.
“Behold,” Barbatos said, his voice laced with a hint of pride, “The latest innovation from yours truly."
"Okay..." Octavia slowly said. "But why? We have already an black market of Blessed weapons from that Overlord of Pride."
"Because we cannot really on stolen weapons not to mention we have to produce something by ourselves, Octavia." Duke Focalor explained. "Heaven’s blessed weapons rely on divine material that we don't have, or the cheap, cursed firearms produced by the likes of Militech Infernational Armaments who we prefer not to pay. Hence why Ars Goetia is doing it's by it's own.”
“Focalor is correct. I looked at the ingenuity of Humanity,” Barbatos picked up one of the pistols delicately, like it was a fragile relic, yet there was no mistaking the lethal power it held. “And decided it was time to adapt their innovations to our own needs. For too long, the Ars Goetia have relied on the old ways, clinging to traditional sorcery and raw demonic strength. But the Hell is evolving, and so must we.”
Octavia’s eyes were transfixed on the weapon, and even Gaap seemed taken aback, his usual smirk replaced by a look of genuine interest.
“These are not ordinary flintlocks,” Barbatos explained, holding up the pistol and turning it so they could see the shimmering runes along the barrel. “I have crafted them to fire what I call Spirit Bullets—projectiles filled with concentrated magic. Unlike mundane bullets of iron and lead, these are forged with arcane energy, capable of piercing not only flesh but also spiritual defenses. They can shatter barriers, disrupt enchantments, and even wound celestial beings.”
Barbatos opened the chamber and put the arcane bullet inside of it. He spun the pistol in his hand expertly before aiming it at a distant target: a stone pillar on the far end of the courtyard. The weapon glowed faintly, the gemstones lighting up as if the gun itself was coming to life. With a sharp crack, Barbatos fired. The shot echoed through the chamber like thunder, and a brilliant flash of light erupted from the barrel. The bullet struck the pillar with a forceful blast, leaving an impressive hole.
"Huh...impressive." Gaap admired.
“But that’s not all,” Barbatos continued, lowering the pistol and looking back at Octavia and Gaap. “One of the greatest flaws of early muskets was the tedious reload time. Five minutes to load a single shot—laughable, inefficient. So I improved upon the design.”
Barbatos set the pistol down and put another bullet into chamber. Then he took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment as if channeling a surge of energy. When he opened them, they were alight with a faint glow. He placed his hand over the pistol, and the runes along its surface flared with blue and red hues.
“Instead of using powder, wadding, and ball, the Ars Goetian muskets are powered by the user’s own magic,” Barbatos explained. “A handgunner of the Ars Goetia need only channel their energy into the weapon. The musket draws on that power to fire once more, without the cumbersome process of reloading. Thus the only thing is needed from Handgunner to put the bullet inside, channel his power onto flintlock pistol and fire. This allows for rapid, continuous fire in the heat of battle.”
Barbatos then looked at Octavia, extending the second loaded pistol towards her. “Here. Try it for yourself.”
Octavia hesitated at first, rather she is...little concerned. But Focalor's slight tap of encouragement and (I will be here, just in case) made her more brave. Hence, she took the pistol in her hand. It was surprisingly light, its grip smooth and cold against her skin. As she held it, she felt a strange connection, like the weapon was responding to her very essence.
“Focus on your magic, let it flow into the weapon. Feel the connection—it is an extension of your power, your will.” Barbatos instructed.
Octavia took a deep breath, closing her eyes as he said. She could feel the ambient magic swirling within her, a coiled serpent of raw energy. Tentatively, she channeled a thread of it into the pistol, and the gemstones embedded in the grip glowed brighter, humming with newfound life.
“Now, fire,” Barbatos commanded.
Octavia opened her eyes and aimed at the same pillar. Without a second thought, she pulled the trigger. The pistol kicked back in her hand, releasing a burst of light and smoke. The bullet struck true, splintering the stone and sending cracks spider-webbing across its surface.
"Oh, wow." A thrill rushed through her, a strange blend of fear and exhilaration. This was power unlike anything she’d ever wielded before.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Barbatos said, a satisfied smile curling his lips.
"Weird...but impressive." Octavia had to agree...still it felt weird how little the pistol takes the magic aura from her, saves the headache for sure.
With Octavia done, Barbatos then turned his gaze to Gaap, his lips curling into a sly smile. He extended the other pistol towards him.
“Would you like to try, Gaap?”
Gaap’s grin widened. He was never one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it involved showing off. He snatched the flintlock pistol from Barbatos’ hand with a casual ease, twirling it effortlessly before pointing it at the target. The confidence in his movements was palpable, and it grated on Octavia, who watched with a frown of irritation. She had barely managed to handle the weapon without hesitation, but Gaap seemed entirely at home with it.
“Go ahead. Channel your magic and fire.” Barbatos said, already seeing how capable he is.
Gaap took a deep breath, exuding a calm focus that belied his usual carefree demeanor. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, channeling his magic into the pistol without any apparent effort. The gemstones embedded in the handle flared brightly, casting eerie shadows across his face as they pulsed with his energy.
He opened his eyes, which now shimmered faintly, and without hesitation, aimed and fired. The sound was sharper, louder, and the recoil barely seemed to affect him. The shot was precise, striking the already damaged pillar and sending a chunk of stone flying. A thin wisp of smoke curled from the barrel as Gaap lowered the pistol, blowing away the remaining smoke with a satisfied smirk.
“Not bad,” Gaap said, spinning the pistol once more before tossing it back to Barbatos, who caught it effortlessly.
Octavia crossed her arms, her lips pursed in annoyance. She hated how easily Gaap had managed it, how he’d made it look so effortless while she’d struggled to channel her energy properly. It wasn’t just the act itself—it was the way he seemed to revel in it, basking in the moment as if he were already a master marksman.
“Show-off,” She muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Gaap.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Octavia,” Gaap teased. “It’s all in the wrist, you know. And a bit of natural talent, of course.”
"Talent? More like you played too much video games."
"Ah, so you want to be like this." Gaap accepted her provocations, his tone dripping with eager to see more of her. “Tell you what, Octavia. Why don’t we make this a bit more interesting? A little competition—just the two of us.”
“And what exactly did you have in mind?” Octavia raised an eyebrow, masking the irritation she felt at his smugness.
“Simple,” Gaap replied, stepping back and gesturing towards a row of stone targets lined up across the chamber. “We see who can land the most shots in a minute. One of us gets bragging rights, and the other…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air, but the smirk on his face made it clear that he didn’t expect to lose.
Octavia glanced over at Barbatos and Focalor, who had both silent to watch the exchange with interest. Barbatos shrugged as it's up to them. To him, he can see they handle pistols quite well.
Focalor gave a small, knowing smile, hopping that she will win. In Focalor's point of view. This was her chance to prove herself, to show that she wasn’t just a sheltered princess but someone worthy of respect and recognition—especially in front of Forcas. Focalor won't lie to himself but someday his son needs to find suitable love of his life...and to be honest with himself, with Octavia beating that spoiled brat will satisfy Focalor enough that she might be an option.
“Fine. You’re on.” Octavia said, lifting her chin defiantly.
“Then let this be a demonstration of the weapon’s capabilities—and your own.” Barbatos stepped aside, with curiosity of a teacher watching his pupils.
Both of them picked their respective flintlocks and aimed at the targets...
"GO!"
Gaap wasted no time. He channeled his magic into it. The glow of the runes was almost instantaneous. He fired once, then immediately reloaded with a bullet and quick surge of his own power, channeling it directly into the weapon without breaking his stance. The second shot cracked through the chamber, striking another target dead on.
Octavia felt a spike of panic. He was fast—far faster than she’d anticipated. Still, she wouldn’t be outdone. She too drew in a deep breath, channeling her energy. The gemstone flared, and she squeezed the trigger, feeling the kick of the gun as the shot flew wide, missing the target by inches.
“Fucking fuck!” Octavia muttered to herself, forcing her frustration down. She reloaded, pushing her magic into the pistol, but it was sluggish. The strain of forcing the energy through the weapon was already taking its toll. Her second shot landed, but barely, clipping the edge of a target.
Meanwhile, Gaap had fired two more shots, his movements fluid and effortless. He was barely pausing between shots, each one precise and clean. Octavia’s heart raced; she could feel the eyes everyone on her, and every missed shot felt like a failure, like she was letting them down.
She grit her teeth and fired again, but the blast veered off to the side. Gaap, on the other hand, didn’t even seem winded. He fired his fifth shot, then his sixth, each one hitting dead center.
“Five seconds left,” Barbatos called out, his tone calm but laced with a note of judgment.
Desperation clawed at Octavia. She pushed everything she had into one final shot, but the recoil was too much, and the pistol jerked violently in her hand. The shot missed entirely, embedding itself into the stone floor with a dull thud. Gaap, in stark contrast, landed his seventh and final shot with a flourish, the bullet striking the target with a satisfying crack.
“Time!” Barbatos announced,
Silence filled for a brief moment, broken only by the echo of the last shot. Octavia lowered her pistol, her hands trembling, her breathing ragged. She glanced over at Gaap, who looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“Well,” Gaap said, his voice light and teasing, “It seems I still have the touch. Seven shots, all on target. And you, Octavia… how many was that?”
“Three,” Octavia muttered.
“Good effort,” Gaap stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Perhaps it would be best if you play Doll houses with Olivia and leave big toys to me.”
"Fuck you." Octavia cursed him. She felt the heat of embarrassment rising to her cheeks. She glanced over at her friends—Amy gave her a sympathetic look, while Olivia’s expression was harder to read, though there was a hint that she nevertheless enjoyed seeing Octavia trying to impress them...even if didn't really needed. Still...cute of her.
“A valiant attempt, Octavia,” Barbatos approached, his face impassive. His voice kinder than she’d expected. “But there is much room for improvement. Gaap’s technique was better because he didn’t force his magic. He let it flow naturally. It is something you must learn if you are to master this weapon.”
Octavia handed the pistol back to Barbatos, But he shook his head, holding up his hand.
“Keep them,” he said, surprising them both. He pulled out a pair of leather holsters, crafted with intricate Ars Goetia sigils, and handed one to each of them. “I had intended for you to carry these on the Expedition, but seeing you will stay with us, it’s clear you’ll need them sooner. If you two are to be here when the I.R.A invades, you’ll want every advantage you can get.”
Octavia’s eyes widened, but she nodded, slipping the holster around her waist. Gaap’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he adjusted his own.
Amy and Olivia had been watching the entire exchange. Barbatos turned to them with a raised eyebrow.
“And what about you two? Care to give it a shot?”
“I think I’ll pass,” Amy shook her head quickly, raising her hands in a polite refusal. “Guns aren’t really my style. I'm a "hidden blade" women.”
"Tsk, of course you're." Gaap sighed, not surprised at this point.
Nevertheless, it seemed only Oliva was interested. Her eyes lit up, and she stepped forward eagerly, her voice taking on a cutesy, pleading tone as she turned to Focalor.
“I want to try! Please, Duke Focalor? Can I?”
Focalor’s stern face cracked into a fond smile, a chuckle escaping his lips.
“Do you really want to play at being a Spirit of Ars Goetia, Lady Olivia?” He crossed his arms, looking down at his daughter with affection.
“Pretty please?” Olivia pouted, her bottom beak sticking out just enough to make her look utterly adorable. She clasped her hands together and gave him her best puppy-dog eyes, blinking up at him with exaggerated innocence.
Focalor sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, but there was no hiding the warmth in his voice.
“Alright, alright. How could I say no to that face?” He turned to Barbatos. “Hand me a pistol, and I’ll instruct her myself.”
Barbatos passed one of the flintlocks over, and Focalor gently took Olivia’s hand, guiding her into position.
“First, grip it like this,” He said, adjusting her fingers around the handle. “The recoil can be strong, so I’ll help support your arm.”
Olivia nodded, her excitement tempered by concentration as she listened intently. Focalor stood behind her, his arm around hers, steadying her aim. “Now, focus your energy. Feel it flowing into the gun, but don’t force it. Let it be a part of you.”
Olivia concentrated, her brows furrowed in focus as she tried to channel her magic. The pistol’s runes glowed faintly.
“Good girl,” Focalor praised, his voice filled with pride. “Now, take a deep breath, and when you’re ready—squeeze the trigger gently.”
With his guidance, Olivia squeezed the trigger, and the gun fired with a loud crack. The shot hit one of the targets, a bit off-center but still a solid hit. Olivia’s face lit up with delight, and she looked up at her father, seeking his approval.
“Did you see that?!” She exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy.
“I did, my little marksman.” Focalor chuckled, giving her a quick, affectionate squeeze.
Focalor’s praise brought a brilliant smile to Olivia’s face, but there was something deeper in her gaze—something more personal. As she lowered the pistol, she leaned in close to her father, taking advantage of the brief moment. Her voice softened into a whisper, so faint that it seemed carried only on the breath of the wind.
“I missed you, daddy.” Olivia murmured, her eyes glistening with a sincerity that went beyond their playful banter.
“I missed you too, my little star.” He whispered back as Focalor’s smile softened in a way that few ever got to see. He cupped her cheek gently.
For a second, it was just the two of them—a father and daughter, reunited despite the chaos around them. It was a brief but powerful moment, one that Olivia held onto tightly as she stepped back, slipping back into her confident, playful "Lady-In-Waiting" demeanor.
Focalor straightened, clearing his throat as he turned to face the others. Barbatos watched them with a knowing smile but said nothing, giving them their moment. When Focalor rejoined the group fully, Barbatos clapped his hands together, drawing everyone’s attention back to him.
“Well, it’s clear that both of you are prepared,” Barbatos said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction as he glanced at Octavia and Gaap. “And it’s good to see you're ready. But there’s one more thing I want to show you—something that might assist us against the I.R.A.”
He gestured for them to follow, turning on his heel and making his way toward the nearest shed. It was an old structure, tucked away behind the training grounds, but there was an air of anticipation around it. Barbatos led them to the shed, the old wooden doors creaking as he pushed them open with a decisive motion. The air inside was cool, filled with the scent of rust and oil, and a thick layer of dust covered everything except for the large, ominous shape in the center. The group stepped in, their eyes immediately drawn to the covered form—a bulky, machine-like structure wrapped in blankets and tarps.
“So...this is your latest invention?” Focalor was the first to speak, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism.
Barbatos didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved toward the center of the shed, his hand brushing against the blanket as he prepared to unveil his creation.
“Yes, I’ve been working on it for some time, trying to understand how humanity has evolved in its technology of destruction. We’ve learned from their mistakes, and now we can surpass them. Hence, BEHOLD THE POWER OF ARS GOETIA!”
With a swift motion, Barbatos yanked the blanket off, revealing the monstrous machine beneath.
"What?" Focalor was dumbfounded.He stood frozen, staring at the awkward contraption before him. Barbatos stood proudly, arms raised like a herald announcing the arrival of a great king, but to Focalor’s eyes, it was a joke. A steaming, clanking joke that didn’t even seem capable of moving, let alone being the weapon of mass destruction Barbatos was promising.
“What… is that?” Octavia’s voice was laced with disbelief. She squinted, crossing her arms. “It looks like a fucking tractor.”
“This, my dear birds, is the future of war!" Barbatos didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm in her tone. "The ultimate weapon, powered by steam and magic! Behold, the Steam Tank!”
Focalor’s eyes flicked from the tank to Barbatos, and back again. The machine before them had thick metal plating, a bulky structure, and wheels that looked more suited for plowing fields than charging into battle. The large, overbuilt cannon at the front looked as though it could barely fire, let alone aim. It was, without a doubt, an impressive feat of engineering, but it was the kind of impressive that made Focalor feel like it had been designed with the sole intention of attracting ridicule.
“Barbatos…” Focalor rubbed his temple, his voice strained. “Are you REALLY suggesting we’re supposed to use this... thing to face the I.R.A.?”
“To be honest, I believe I.R.A will die by their own laugh rather than by that thing's cannons.” Amy, who had been quietly observing, couldn’t help herself any longer, barely able to suppress the laughter that threatened to escape. She caught herself before the chuckles spilled over, but it was clear from her beak that the whole idea seemed ludicrous to her.
Focalor exchanged a look with Octavia, wondering if she can understand Barbatos' insanity. Though Octavia didn't help him as...well there is no words Octavia can make to give him her thoughts.
"Barbatos, this has to be the single most ridiculous idea you've ever had - and that's saying something, considering your 'Land Ship' before." Focalor shook his head in dismay. "This... 'Steam Tank' looks like it can barely move, let alone withstand enemy fire or provide any meaningful advantage against the I.R.A."
"Come on, Focalor. Give this girl an chance!" Barbatos protested.
Focalor facepalmed and let out an exasperated sigh....can't say how much he can handle this. Turning to his son Forcas, he then asked him for an favor.
"Forcas, would you please take a look at this... thing and see if there's any way we could make it functional? I'm at my wits' end trying to reason with Barbatos on this."
"Do I have to?" Forcas glanced at the Steam Tank, then back at his father. "I'm not so sure after the Land Ship"
"Come on, Forcas! Don't you want to kick some I.R.A. butt?" Olivia, who had been watching the exchange with growing excitement, nudged Forcas playfully. "Besides, maybe you can show up Gaap while you're at it."
"Eat Octavia's cunt, you bitch." Gaap whispered to himself, low enough that Focalor thankfully didn't hear that.
Forcas let out a deep, exaggerated sigh at Olivia’s words. He shot her a sidelong glance, already knowing her playful grin meant she wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon. “Alright, fine. I’ll take a crack at it."
“That’s the spirit!" Olivia’s grin widened as she playfully punched his arm. "Now go show that tank who’s boss!”
With a reluctant shake of his head, Forcas moved toward the Steam Tank, the sound of his boots against the gravel crunching in the silence. He reached the machine and stared at it, arms crossed, as if sizing up an opponent in an arena. He hadn’t wanted this. Heaven, it was ridiculous. But now that he was here, he couldn’t back down. Not now. Not with everyone watching.
He climbed on it, found a hatch at top and pried it open, getting himself inside of driver seat and revealing a set of controls. The sight only added to his growing frustration. Too much buttons and weird "Pressure release" buttons...Barbatos had no sense of practicality.
“What this is shit…” Forcas muttered, fingers brushing across the panels, finding anything to help him start this thing. His gaze flickered to the ignition panel, and he grumbled under his breath. There’s no way this is going to start on the first try.
Still, he pulled open the locker and found the ignition keys resting next to a pile of scattered tools and half-finished parts. A dull metallic key lay there, surrounded by the faint glow of the tank’s magic runes. He picked it up reluctantly, turning it over in his hands.
“I swear if this blows up in my face, I’m going to kill my dad,” He muttered to himself, before slotting the key into the ignition panel.
With a firm twist, the engine sputtered to life with a groan of protest, steam hissing from several valves as the tank’s mechanisms came alive. Forcas hummed, though the sound of the machine’s engines sputtering made him wonder. Still, the engines was purring. And that, in his mind, was a small victory.
“Alright, Forcas, let’s see this thing in action!” Barbatos, beaming with pride, practically bounced on his heels as he clapped his hands together. He stepped back, his eyes gleaming with anticipation to see what this girl can do. “I will open those doors for you. Move the Steam Tank to the courtyard field. Show us what it can really do!”
The shed doors opened with a loud screech as Barbatos stepped aside to allow the behemoth to pass through. Forcas sighed heavily, but he had no choice now, muttering under his breath about the absurdity of it all.
With a resigned grunt, he pulled a lever. The engine coughed to life once more, the pistons hissing and steam rising from the creaking pipe. He twisted a few knobs, coaxing the beast forward. The wheels groaned and rattled against the ground as if the tank itself were groaning in disapproval. Still, the machine lurched forward, but it wasn’t fast. In fact, it was painfully slow.
“Come on, you overgrown can opener!” Forcas muttered, slamming a fist onto the dashboard in frustration.
Neverthless it did move sooner or later to outside. The light of the outside world spilled in, and Forcas could see the courtyard ahead, still a fair distance away. The machine rumbled as if it could barely carry its own weight, let alone travel a significant distance.
“Keep it going, Steamy! Push it a bit more! I believe in you!” Barbatos stood just outside, watching eagerly his tank moving. Even from group perspective, tank lurched from shed, the sound of its grinding wheels echoing in the silent field. It was like watching a giant slug drag itself through mud. It moved, but so slowly it was almost comical.
“Is it supposed to go this slow?” Amy raised an eyebrow, her beak twitching slightly as she stifled a laugh.
“I’m starting to think it would have been faster to carry the damn thing to the courtyard.” Octavia had crossed her arms, looking at the steam tank in pain.
After what felt like an eternity, the Steam Tank finally reached the open courtyard field, a patch of dirt and grass that had been set up as a training area. Forcas eased the machine to a stop, letting out a frustrated breath. He looked out through the opening front of the cockpit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him.
“Gather near the tank, everyone! It’s time to see the full potential of this marvel!” Barbatos clapped his hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.
Forcas, still inside the cockpit, stared ahead in disbelief as Barbatos practically skipped over to the others. Focalor, Amy, Olivia, and even Octavia slowly began to make their way closer to the Steam Tank, each of them glancing back at Forcas with varying levels of amusement, skepticism, and curiosity. When everyone had gathered around, Barbatos raised a hand dramatically and began to speak, the words full of pride.
"Now, let me explain the brilliance of this machine. You see, the Steam Tank is not just a vehicle—it is a symbol of our might. And what does a tank do? It crushes enemies, plows through defenses, and dominates the battlefield.”
“By ‘dominate,’ do you mean move at a snail’s pace? I’m not sure how that’s supposed to instill fear.” Focalor’s eyebrow twitched as he glanced at the tank again, his arms still crossed.
Barbatos waved off the comment with a flourish, his eyes sparkling with certainty. “It’s not about speed. It’s about power. The power to smash through defenses—immovable defenses. And to do so, we need heavy artillery.” He turned to Forcas and nodded. “Forcas, take the gunner’s seat. Let’s show them how this tank can obliterate a target.”
“Ugh, I’m starting to regret this already…” Forcas sighed and reluctantly made his way out of the cockpit, grumbling under his breath. His muscles were sore from the ordeal of getting the tank into position. He approached the front of the machine, where the large cannon sat—overbuilt, awkward, and completely out of place compared to...everything.
The young snowly owl squeezed himself into the cramped gunner's position at the front. His fingers brushed against the cold, rusted metal of the cannon's mechanism, and he took a deep breath. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.
"See any balls?" Barbatos asked trough.
"Yeah...I think so." Forcas noticed at the crate that says "Ammo". He opened to see a crate full off heavy black spherical object with a strange, rough surface that had the unmistakable scent of gunpowder. It was an awkward piece of artillery by modern standards—far too archaic and cumbersome.
"Take one of them and load the ball into the cannon, then ignite it with the lighter here.” Barbatos' could be heard.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!" Forcas stared at the balls, and then at the cannon, his skepticism mounting by the second. "I’m supposed to light this thing on fire? And then what? Fire it out of the tank?”
“Exactly!” Barbatos grinned widely.
"My Ars...fuck me"
Reluctantly, Forcas took the heavy ball, feeling the weight of it in his hands. With all strength he had, he hoisted the ball toward the cannon’s large open barrel, shoving it into place with some effort. The cannon had been designed in such a way that it looked almost too large for this kind of operation. After getting it into position, he looked back at Barbatos trough opening, who was practically bouncing with excitement.
“Now, take the lighter from locker! Use it to ignite the fuse. Once you light it, the ball will ignite with a burst of gunpowder and fire straight out at the wrecks over there!”
Forcas looked from the ball to the cannon and then to the pile of ruined I.R.A./Pre-Invasion Limbo Tanks some distance away—a target that looked as if it had been scrapped long ago, a collection of twisted metal and broken pieces from battles past.
“Alright, here goes nothing,” Forcas muttered, fumbling with the lighter. With a deep breath, he pushed the lighter closer to the fuse and ignited it fully. The fuse flared to life, and there was a sudden burst of heat and pressure. Forcas quickly stepped back, raising his hands instinctively as he braced for the boom.
"Covers you ears!" Barbatos commanded.
The cannon exploded with a deafening crack, a violent explosion that shook the very ground beneath him. The force sent a shockwave through the air, rattling the tank’s frame, but it was nothing compared to the sheer power of the shot.
The ball of gunpowder rocketed out of the cannon and hit the pile of ruined tanks, sending debris flying in every direction. A cloud of smoke billowed up from the impact site, and when the dust settled, the wreckage was left in smoldering ruins—exactly the kind of destruction Barbatos had promised.
"Unholy shit!" Forcas, still in the gunner's seat, blinked in disbelief.
“See?!" Barbatos, barely able to contain his excitement, jumped up and down. “That’s the power of the Ars Goetia Steam Tank!”
Amy, Olivia, and Octavia stood off to the side. Focalor watched as the smoke cleared from the demolished target and turned to Barbatos, who was still practically vibrating with excitement, and shook his head slowly.
"You know, Barbatos," Focalor began, his voice carrying a note of weary acceptance, "I can't decide if you're completely mad or secretly brilliant. Perhaps both. That demonstration was... impressive, I'll grant you that."
"Ha! I knew you'd come around!" Barbatos beamed, clapping his hands together.
"Don't get too excited," Focalor raised a hand, tempering his friend's enthusiasm. "One working prototype doesn't mean we're ready for what's coming. The I.R.A. won't just be throwing outdated tanks at us. They'll have modern weapons, aerial support, and Ars knows what else they've scavenged since the last war."
"With all due respect, Duke Focalor, I think we're overlooking an even bigger problem." Octavia stepped forward, her boots crunching on the debris-strewn ground. "Steam tanks and weapons are all well and good, but what about the citizens? Without a proper supply chain, New Limbo will starve long before the I.R.A. even reaches our walls."
"You're right, of course," Focalor admitted, running a hand through his feathers. "But what can we do? The bridge that connects Acheron and New Limbo is compromised, and building new ones takes time we don't have."
"Actually..." Amy's voice cut through, drawing everyone's attention. She'd been unusually quiet during the tank demonstration, but now there was a calculating gleam in her eyes. "Now that I think about it, I might have a solution. Or at least, the beginnings of one."
"Oh?" Focalor turned to her, curiosity piqued. "Care to elaborate, President?"
"Not yet. I need to... verify some things first." Amy shook her head, a slight smile playing at the corners of her beak. "Call in a few favors, test the waters. Give me some time to put the pieces together, and I'll present you with a complete plan."
"You and your mysterious connections..." Gaap muttered, not trusting her at all.
Focalor studied Amy for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well. In the meantime..." He turned back to Barbatos, who had been fidgeting impatiently throughout the exchange. "I'll arrange for you to present your Steam Tank to the Electorate at Lemegeton. If nothing else, it might boost morale to show we're actively preparing for what's coming."
"Or be an laughing stock. That will work too." Amy muttered to herself.
Barbatos's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "You won't regret this, Focalor! I'll have more prototypes ready—bigger ones, with even more firepower!"
"Please don't," Forcas groaned from where he was still extracting himself from the gunner's seat, looking slightly singed around the edges. Olivia giggled, skipping over to help Forcas down.
"Oh, come on! It wasn't that bad. You looked quite dashing playing with your big toy."
"I hate all of you," Forcas grumbled, but accepted Olivia's helping hand nonetheless.
Shaking his head from their interaction, Focalor would then return his attention. "Looks like that is everything, Octavia and Gaap. So you may go and have fun in the city. In couple of days, I will return back with reinforcements. Until then, don't even think about going outside the walls, are we clear?"
"Yes, sir." Octavia said, trying to hide her smile. It felt more like an command from "overprotective dad" than from respected Duke.
"Good." Focalor nodded, glad that she heard it. "In that case, let me guide you towards the exit. And you Barbatos, get your thing prepared for transfer for tomorrow."
And with that away, Focalor led the way, with Forcas at his side, while Octavia, Gaap, and Olivia followed close behind. Amy was the last, giving an glance at Steam Tank...and frankly just scowling.
"This thing defeating I.R.A...what a joke."
The group made their way across the training field, Focalor taking the lead with purposeful strides, his expression set in a mask of determination. Forcas trudged at his side, still rubbing the soot from his feathers. Octavia, Gaap, and Olivia followed a few paces behind, their steps lighter, almost as if they were leaving the heavy tension of the Steam Tank demonstration behind them. Amy lagged slightly, lost in her own thoughts, her beak set in a thin line of displeasure.
As they approached the stone archway that marked the exit of the field, Focalor slowed his pace, casting a sidelong glance at Forcas.
"You alright there, Forcas?" he asked, his tone softer, almost fatherly—a stark contrast to his usual authoritative bark.
"Just peachy, Dad." Forcas grumbled, flicking a clump of ash from his shoulder. "Next time, remind me to skip the ‘volunteer’ part when Barbatos is involved."
"Dully noted." Focalor’s chuckle rumbled through the air like distant thunder.
They passed under the archway and into the wide, open grounds that led to entrance. The stone walls rose high on either side, draped in the crimson banners of the Ars Goetia, their sigils flapping gently in the wind.
Amy finally caught up, her gaze flitting over the battlements and the guards standing at attention.
"So," Amy broke the comfortable silence, turning to Octavia with curious eyes. "What do you make of our eccentric Duke Barbatos? He's quite... something, isn't he?"
"Honestly?" Octavia was quiet for a moment, considering her words carefully. "I feel a bit sorry for him."
"Sorry?" Gaap snorted. "For that lunatic?"
"No, I mean it, shit for brains." Octavia returned the insult. "Did you see his hunting hat? The way his eyes light up when he's creating something? He's not meant for this—ruling a colony, dealing with politics. He'd rather be out there hunting or tinkering with his inventions." She glanced at the sky. "I can't really blame him for wanting do his hobbies."
"It's not that simple, unfortunately." Focalor slowed his pace, falling in step beside them. "When Astaroth and Ars Bael made their decision, Barbatos had to comply. We all did." There was a weight to his words, years of history and obligation hanging heavy in the air.
"Will you stay with us, father?" Olivia asked.
"Afraid I can't, my snowy snowflake." Focalor sighed, not liking that Olivia will be here while he himself will be far away from this Devil forsaken Colony. "Tomorrow. An Ars Goetian Airship will arrive to take Barbatos and me back." He caught the worry in Octavia's expression and added quickly, "But don't think for a moment we're abandoning you. I give you my word that I will explain them of incoming siege—the Electorate will send reinforcements, I promise."
"Words are cheap in Hell, Lord Focalor. Especially if it's Electorate." Gaap muttered.
"Which is why," Focalor continued, shooting Gaap a stern look, "I'm leaving something more concrete than words." He placed a hand on Forcas's shoulder. "My son will command my own Cohort of Legion if the I.R.A. attacks before we provide reinforcements. He knows these knights, these people. They'll follow him."
"I won't let you down, father." Forcas proudly said.
"When did you become ass kisser to me, Forcas?" Focalor's expression softened as he looked at his son.
"Probably around the same time you started trusting me with a Legion," Forcas replied with a slight smirk.
"Oh my!" Olivia clasped her hands together, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Our little Forcas, barely twenty-one, and already commanding a Legion. Moving up in the Hell, aren't we?"
"I'm standing right here, Oli." Forcas grumbled, but there was a slight flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the morning.
"And doing a wonderful job of it," Olivia teased, being that "Older sister" he knew off. "Though I do hope you'll be a better commander than you were a tank driver."
"That thing was a death trap and you know it," Forcas protested, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Amy watched the exchange with quiet amusement, but she didn't forget their main problem.
"A regiment might not be enough," Amy said softly, almost to herself.
"It won't be," Focalor agreed, his voice equally low. "But it's what we can spare for now. The rest..." He glanced meaningfully at Amy, "Well, depends on those strings you mentioned pulling, President."
"Trust me," Amy's beak curved into a slight smile. "I'm already weaving."
Focalor nodded and proceeded forward. They continued walking as the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold. The streets of New Limbo were quieting, shopkeepers closing up for the night, citizens hurrying home. It was almost peaceful, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air—everyone knew that peace wouldn't last much longer.
As they approached the gates of New Limbo, Focalor slowed his pace once more. Something had been nagging at him throughout their walk, and now, in these final moments together, he couldn't hold back any longer.
"Octavia," his voice was gentle but firm. "What exactly happened at the Lemegeton Trial?"
The question hung heavy in the air. Octavia's shoulders tensed slightly, but she maintained her composure, her eyes meeting Focalor's directly.
"The short version?" She took a deep breath. "Gaap nearly succeeded in bribing the Electors to vote for both my parents' execution."
The effect was immediate. Focalor's head snapped toward Gaap, his eyes blazing with a fury that made the air around them crackle with energy. His fingers curled into fists, trembling with barely contained rage. Gaap, however, merely smirked, completely unfazed by Focalor's reaction.
"Careful now, Duke Focalor. One wrong move, and Zepar will fucking annihilate you. We wouldn't want that, would we?"
"You little—" Focalor started, but forced himself to take a deep breath, his jaw clenched tight. He turned back to Octavia, though the tension in his voice was still evident. "What happened in the end?"
"My parents are alive, if that's what you're asking. But the cost was..." Octavia's expression grew somber. She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Father had to resign his position as Prince. It was the only way to allow Gaap and me to take our new positions. And Mother...they put her in solitary confinement."
At the mention of Stella's imprisonment, something shifted in Focalor's expression. The fury drained away, replaced by something deeper, more personal—a flash of pain that he couldn't quite hide. He seemed lost in thought. Olivia and Amy exchanged knowing glances, while Forcas watched his father with quiet concern.
"Oh, Stella..." Focalor whispered, almost to himself, before catching himself and straightening up. "For what it's worth, I know your mother is proud of you, Octavia. Whatever else you might think of her, whatever others might say about her... I know the other side of Stella." He gave a sad smile. "She may not show it in ways others understand, but everything she's done, every move she's made... it's always been for you...in her own...cruel way."
"Thanks, I guess." Octavia gave an nod, respecting Focalor's words even if he didn't saw the full picture.
"I..." Focalor continued, composing himself. "I only wish for your success and happiness, Octavia. Whatever path you choose, whatever challenges lie ahead..." He straightened his coat, trying to regain his usual dignified demeanor. "You've grown into someone remarkable. Don't let fools to misguide and cloud your judgment. Always Remember that. I hope one day to see you alongside the rest of Ars Goetia. Until then. Come, Forcas. We should return to Barbatos."
"Bye" Forcas nodded, giving a hug to Olviia one last time before following his father. As they walked away, their figures gradually disappearing from their view, the remaining group stood in thoughtful silence.
"So..." Octavia turned to Amy, wanting to hear more from her than vague 'I have plan, trust me' explanation. "What now? Really? You mentioned you had something in mind earlier."
Amy remained carefully neutral, her eyes directing briefly toward Gaap, who was standing nearby with his usual smirk. She pulled out a cigarette pack from her coat pocket, tapping it thoughtfully against her palm.
"First, I need a smoke break before I drive you all back to Marchosias." Amy said casually, her voice carrying just the right amount of weariness. "Octavia, want to smoke."
"I-"
"I'm sure you want it." Amy pressed on. At first Octavia assumed she was being courteous but then she saw that Amy's face shown a hidden to plea to stay with her...strange.
"Um...okay." Octavia sounded more like it was not an answer but a confused acceptance.
"Have fun getting an cancer." Gaap smirked as he went to Amy's car, obviously not interested sticking around.
Olivia too would go back to the car, allowing for Amy and Octavia to have some time. Once they were at a safe distance, Amy pulled another cigar to Octavia, which Owl women took it. Amy then took out her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen. She kept her posture relaxed, as if she were merely checking messages.
"Have you seen my hellcat?" Amy asked loudly enough for the others to hear, turning her phone screen toward Octavia. "She's been doing the most adorable things lately."
Octavia leaned in, expecting to look at cat photos. Instead, she read the message Amy had typed:
Sorry for pressuring you to smoke, Oct XD
"But listen, I will pick you up from March's Castle later in the evening. Remember to come alone."
"I have a plan, but it must stays with us. Don't tell anyone if you don't want any trouble from our Electorate Gods."
"That's all. Now act like you saw my cat."
"Oh yes, very cute cat," Octavia's expression didn't change, playing along. "I especially like how... mysterious she looks."
"Yep, she is." Amy deleted the message with a swift motion, then pulled up actual cat photos – a necessary precaution. She placed a hand on Octavia's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Thank you. It means a lot that you appreciate her."
"Hey, are we done with the cat pictures?" Gaap called out, clearly bored. "I want to go home!"
"Yes, yes," Amy called back, putting her phone away. "Let's get you all home before Marchosias sends out a search party." She turned to Octavia one last time, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Enjoy some free time. You'll need it."
They all piled into Amy's car, with Octavia settled into the back seat, The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the gates of New Limbo behind. Octavia pressed herself against the cool glass of the window, watching buildings. Her mind already wondering what exactly Amy wants. She should have felt relieved that someone as capable as Amy had a plan, but something about the secrecy made her...concerned. Growing up in Goetia politics had taught her that secrets rarely led anywhere good. Her father's fall from grace, her mother's imprisonment, even her own precarious position as Marquise – all were products of whispered plans and hidden agendas.
"You okay back there, my lady?" Olivia's gentle voice cut through her thoughts. "You're being awfully quiet."
"Just tired," Octavia managed a weak smile, though her mind was still wondering. What could Amy possibly have planned that required such discretion? And more importantly, was she ready to dive into another web of conspiracies?
The car hit a pothole, jolting everyone inside. Gaap cursed from the front seat, but Octavia barely noticed. Her thoughts drifted to her parents – her father, stripped of his title but finally free to be himself, and her mother... Stella, confined in solitary, paying the price for trying to kill Octavia's dad.... was this what awaited anyone who played the game of Goetian politics too long?
Through the rearview mirror, she caught Amy's eyes briefly. The President's expression revealed nothing, but there was an intensity there that made Octavia's stomach twist. Whatever was coming, it would change things – perhaps everything in here. The question wasn't whether she was ready, but whether she had a choice at all.
Sometimes, Octavia wished she had father's wisdom to just walk away.
Notes:
---------------
Language Translations in Chronological Order:1) "Hail, brother. You have arrived at the Fields of the Warriors, where ancient rest." - (Imperian Native/High Satanic Language [Latin])
2) "The Temple of the Imperious calls you. He awaits." - (Imperian Native/High Satanic Language [Latin])
Chapter 38: Ride to Hell: Retribution
Summary:
"O, mighty Ars Belial, Goetia of Goetias and Opener of Way. As per your order to establish contact with the Nomads of Great Pride Plains, I must inform you that my research is complete. I have included the entire documentary in a separate letter. But, to use Vicar's own words and with me translating into our proper language, here is what she said: "Inside hounds there are two beasts: one is a faithful companion of the pack, and the other is a savage barbarian who shits himself upon any sight of civilization." - Historical Account of Ars (Theurgia) Goetia's First Contact with Hellhound Nomadic Tribes (73.641 BC)
Notes:
Real chapter this time. If things go as planned, then there should be another chapter coming out very soon.
Special thanks to Matallana 0316 from TV Tropes for adding Magne Inferno into the FanficRecs category. Seriously, if you read this, Matallana 0316, you made my day when I saw it. So thank you very much!!!
You can find it here. Also, I highly recommend checking it as there are also some of the great stories recommended by users: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanficRecs/HazbinHotel
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
October 5, 2025, AD (89 Days Before The Next Purge), 3:31 PM.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle.
Another Day, Another Discovery.
At this point, Marchosias can't exactly complain about it. It's been so long since he started this that he felt nothing but routine work and even enjoyment from it. If he was in proper Ars Goetia, he would had more other issues. Here...this was nothing but passion...for his own kin.
Shadows danced as crimson candlelight flickered through the circular study chamber. Here, in his Limbo castle, Marquis Marchosias had created himself a sanctuary of knowledge that kept the millennia of Hellhound history. Each shelf were filled with countless scrolls, their edges worn smooth by centuries of scholarly handling.
At the chamber's heart stood Marchosias's massive desk, crafted from a single slab of midnight-black wood. Its surface was in chaos – open texts in various ancient languages, sketching implements, measuring tools, and dozens of notes written in his handwriting. A sophisticated magnifying apparatus of brass and crystal hung suspended above the workspace, allowing for detailed examination of artifacts.
The young Hellhound noble leaned forward as he adjusted the position of his latest object of study – the Sword of Alpha-Khan Lycaon. Marchosias's eyes narrowed as he carefully rotated the blade under his magnifying lens.
"Fascinating!" He murmured, dipping his quill in ink once more. He filled another page in his journal, drawings and observations flowing from his pen with practiced ease. "The handcraftsmanship in the metal... they're unlike anything in our modern forging teqniques."
To Hellhounds, this sword was nothing but exotic trinket meant to be sold in pawn shop or be auctioneered. But to Marchosias, the sword represented more than just an ancient weapon. It was a piece of their lost heritage, a fragment of the time when Hellhounds ruled vast territories in Ancient Inferno and pose a threat to even Ars (Theurgia) Goetia. Thanks to his fellow sister of the moon's discovery of it had been nothing short of revolutionary for their historical records. And now Marchosias felt a deep sense of responsibility – as both a scholar and a member of the Ars Goetia – to unlock its secrets.
Once more, he traced a finger along an inscription near the hilt, careful not to touch the actual metal. The characters were worn but still legible – a form of Old Proto-Vicarian native that predated even the earliest known Hellhound texts in his library. Aside the inscription, Marchosias's eyes narrowed as he noticed something peculiar about the metal's sheen. Even in the dim candlelight, there was something... wrong about how the surface caught the light. He'd seen this effect before, but where?
"Curious how it got forged in the first place..." Marchosias hummed to himself, recalling the little bit of so-called "Hellhound smithing.", Ancient Vicarians had the similar patterns with Imperians and even Humans: Stone, Bronze and Iron. Hell's Iron is what was been used to forge swords, axes, javelins by Hellhounds for the hunt. But Lycaon's sword...this was not native iron at all...in fact it looks like-
...
Ninth Ring Native?
Rising abruptly from his desk, Marchosias strode to the eastern shelf where he kept geographical and geological texts. His claws traced along the spines until he found what he sought – a weathered tome bound in blue leather, its title barely legible:
"The Guide To Treachery Ring: The Land Of Shadows."
"It can't be..." he muttered, returning to his desk and laying the heavy book beside the sword. The pages rustled as he flipped through them, scanning centuries-old accounts of the notorious Ninth Ring. Finally, he stopped at a chapter detailing rare minerals and metals. There it was.
"Among the cursed materials found only in the depths of Treachery's frozen wastes is Roonium, a metal as black as Ninth Ring itself. Due to Roonium causing psychological damage near it's presence, the Seven Deadly Sins and Styrgian Council forbade its mining after the First Age of Inferno. Those who work with Roonium often find themselves ensnared by fate's cruelest twists..."
Marchosias glanced between the text and the sword, his mind racing. The properties matched perfectly.
"But this is impossible," He whispered, pulling his journal closer and beginning to write with renewed urgency. "Roonium can only be found in the deepest mines of Treachery Ring. The geological records are quite clear on this. Yet this sword..." He paused, staring at the ancient weapon with growing unease. "This sword was forged during Lycaon's reign in the upper circles, thousands of years before any documented expeditions to Treachery even occurred. The only way to acquire Roonium during that era would have been to personally venture into Treachery Ring. But no historical account mentions Lycaon traveling to the Ninth Ring. Such a journey by an Alpha-Khan would have been recorded..."
Marchosias again carefully examined the sword's pommel again, where Lycaon's personal seal was etched. There was no doubt about its authenticity – this was indeed the Alpha-Khan's weapon. But its very existence posed questions that threatened to unravel new historical accounts....
"What aren't you telling us, Sublime Lord Lycanous?" Marchosias murmured to the sword. "What brought you to Treachery Ring? And more importantly...what price did you pay for this material?"
*Knock-Knock*
A sharp knock at the door shattered the scholarly silence, causing Marchosias to jerk in surprise. His claws instinctively tightened around Lycaon's sword, nearly dropping the ancient artifact in his startled state. The Hellhound noble let out a frustrated growl, his concentration thoroughly broken.
"You may enter!" He called out, carefully placing the sword back onto the table.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing one of his employees – a stocky Hellhound from the Aldecaldos. Behind him stood a familiar feminine figure, unmistakable even in the chamber's dim lighting.
"Big Dog Boss!" The guard announced with some what unformal rigidity, "A fellow Hellhound sister is here to see you. She claims to have an appointment."
"You told me to come here." Loona stated bluntly, cutting through any pretence of formality towards the nobility.
"Yes, yes, I was expecting her!" The Young hellhound waved a dismissive paw toward the guard. He barely glanced up from the book he opened, his mind still pondering with theories about Lycaon's mysterious connection to the Ninth Ring. "You may leave us."
The guard just nodded and retreated, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud. Now only two Hellhounds remained in the circular chamber – one of noble birth surrounded by his precious historical records...and the other is Loona.
Loona remained still for now, her eyes wandering across the cluttered chamber. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with scrolls, books, and artifacts that spoke of centuries of collected knowledge.
"Whistle Talk about being rich...you have an competition, Tavi." She muttered under her breath, amused in her voice as she observed the organized chaos of his workspace. Her gaze lingered on Marchosias concentration in his face, making her heart skip a beat – something she'd never admit out loud.
"So..." Loona shifted her weight, clearing her throat awkwardly, "Where is it?"
"Hmm?" Marchosias responded absently, his quill never stopping as he documented his latest theories.
"My reward." Loona's lips quirked into a small smile despite herself. Her tone was gentler than usual. "You know...the one you promised earlier?"
"The reward?" Marchosias's eyes narrowed before his head snapped up suddenly. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" He ran a hand through his fur in embarrassment, several loose papers scattering from his sudden movement. "My sincerest apologies. I've been rather... consumed by this research." He gestured at the ancient sword and the mountain of books surrounding it.
"Of course you do, you fucking adorable nerd." Loona whispered to herself. The flustered display brought a warmth to Loona's chest she wasn't quite prepared for it.
"It's right there on the table," Marchosias pointed to a small ornate table near the entrance, before turning back to face her fully for the first time since she'd entered. "And... thank you again for bringing this relic to me. You have no idea how significant this find truly is."
"Right...thanks." The genuine gratitude in him made her tail wag slightly before she could stop it.
Loona then approached the table, her claws clinked against the metal coins as she lifted the reward pouch and weighed it in her palm. A small smile spread across her face as she mentally added up all the things she could buy, such as the new phone she'd been eyeing or the fancy boots from the mortal realm.
Her gaze returned to Marchosias, who was hunched over his desk and completely focused on his work. The sight caused her to pause, and the coin purse felt heavy in her hands. Before, she was so excited to get her 200.000 souls but now...not really anymore after Moxxie's near death expereince...guess money can't buy her happiness anymore.
Loona sighed and returned it to the table. Instead, she found herself drawn closer to his workspace, her boots silent on the stone floor. Coming to a halt beside his chair, she leaned her hip against the desk, a playful grin spreading across her face.
"You know," Loona murmured, resting one hand on her cocked hip, "Money is always good, but I might be interested in a... different kind of reward."
"Please, feel free to take the money." Marchosias didn't look up from his notes, his quill scratching a steady path across the parchment. "I have wealth than I know what to do with these days and you could surely put it to good use...no offence, of course..."
"That's... not exactly what I meant." Loona tried again, leaning in, her tail swishing suggestively. "Maybe I'm interested in something more..."special" from you, hmm? Have you considered that?"
"Special, huh?" Marchosias pondered before an idea occurred. "In that case. I have an antique Hellhound sabre lying around that you can take."
Loona straightened up with a frustrated sigh, throwing her hand in the air, as this sailed right over his head as well. "Fuck, I am really bad at this."
"Bad at what, exactly?" Marchosias finally looked up, confused.
Loona ran her hand through her fur, feeling vulnerable under his questioning gaze.
"At this...you know." She gestured vaguely between them. "You literally saved Moxxie's life two hours ago, and you have no idea who I am besides 'the Hellhound who brought you a sword.' You probably don't even know my name."
Marchosias fell silent, his quill finally stilling as her words hit home and understanding dawned in his eyes. He carefully set down the writing implement, seeing wisdom in her.
"You're correct. Everything happened fairly quickly, didn't it? And I won't lie: my priorities have been..." He looked at the cluttered desk with a self-deprecating smile and said, "Somewhat scattered."
Marchosias rose from his chair with fluid grace, drawing himself to his full height. He offered a slight, formal bow, but his eyes were warm, belying the formality of the gesture. Loona shifted awkwardly, suddenly feeling out of place among the ancient tomes and artifacts
"Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Marquis Marchosias of the Ars Goetia, a historian and, admittedly, a scholarly recluse.
"Loona... just...Loona," she said, her usual confidence slipping slightly. "Or well, technically Loona Buckzo, I guess."
"Loona...Loona" Marchosias repeated, his voice full of appreciation. "Huh, it's a very lovely name, and quite common among Hellhound females. Your parents chose wisely; it fits you well, Loona."
"Never knew my real parents," she muttered, avoiding his gaze. The words struck an unexpected chord, and Loona's ears drooped slightly. "I was a "pound puppy" until Blitz adopted me...kind of like you."
"I...should have saw it already." Marchosias' expression softened with understanding and something deeper: recognition. "I apologise for assuming. As I previously told you, I was also born in an adoption centre... it appears that we are both pound puppies, as you put it.
"Which I am curious about it." Now that he mentioned, Loona wanted to know more from him. "You' seriously telling me you went from an adoption centre to becoming a noble of Ars Goetia? How does that even work?"
"I understand...It baffled me as well. Let's just say I was lucky, because the hereditary rules of the Ars Goetia can be... twisted around." He left the statement hanging, clearly preferring not to elaborate on the complex nature of demonic nobility. Instead, Marchosias cleared a space among his papers and carefully moved Lycaon's sword to make room. "Please sit with me. I would much rather hear about you, Loona. After all, you have already made a significant contribution to my research by bringing this artefact. It seems only fair that I should learn more about the person who made such an important discovery."
"There's not really much to tell, Lord Marchosias." The chair he offered was surprisingly comfortable as Loona settled into it. She shifted in the ornate chair, her fingers absently tracing the carved Hellhound patterns on its arm. "An Imp named Blitz adopted me, and I've mostly been working at I.M.P. as their receptionist. You know...answering phones, the boring stuff."
"Aren't we all, huh?" Marchosias smirked, feeling sympathetic. Even his job feels more like a desk job than anything.
"Yep, shit is boring, let me tell you." Loona consented. She then paused to collect her thoughts before continuing. "Life has been a bit of a rollercoaster lately. I ended up becoming Octavia's bodyguard as well as participating in a bounty hunting mission with two imps that was... traumatising, my lord." As a slight smirk formed in the corner of her mouth as she glanced at sword in question. She can't believe how she kicked Buzzard ass with it.
"Call me March, Loona. There's no need for unnecessary flattery." Marchosias nodded slowly and glanced at the sword. He leaned forward slightly, curious for more. "Surely there must be more to you than just work."
"Like what?"
"What are your interests? What makes you happy in your spare time? That kind of stuff."
"...You seriously want to know me better?" Loona was actually surprised by it.
"Of course." Marchosias just nodded.
To say Loona was confused is an understatement. The direct personal questions appeared to catch her off-guard.
"I... well..." She ran her hand through her hair, clearly uncomfortable with the self-reflection. "I like parties, I guess...and my phone?"
The statement came out more like a question, and her usual confidence wavered as she realized how shallow it might sound to Marquis Ars Goetia.
"Phone?" Marchosias repeated softly, questioning her reasoning for saying that.
Loona's shoulders slumped, giving up on pretence. She is not Verosika Mayday nor is she a Bee; she is simply a Loona.
"I know, I'm just... boring," she admitted, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Shy when it really matters. When you look at it, it's actually quite pathetic."
Marchosias' expression softened from genuine concern to empathy as he watched her struggle with these admissions.
"But...I have enjoyed the Gluttony the parties, you know?" She went on, her claws idly scratching at the chair's ornate armrest. "Hanging out with Octavia, Bee, and Vortex made things feel better for a while. "But lately...I just feel like...umm..." She paused and looked around at the countless volumes of Hellhound history that surrounded them.
"That you're losing interest in it?" Marchosias enquired gently, his scholarly demeanour softening as he observed her internal conflict.
"Yeah, I think I am." Loona sighed slowly, her ears drooping. "Don't get me wrong: I love my friends. Bee is great, as is Vortex, but I just can't explain it. They keep saying that parties are fantastic. It's as if it's the pinnacle of Hellhounds or something, but now it feels empty."
"What you're feeling is more common than you might realise, though few Hellhounds will admit it. Loona, it's all about finding your purpose. The desire to discover meaning beyond the obvious." Marchosias traced a finger along the edge of his desk, and his voice became more personal. He gestured to the grand chamber around them and said, "There is nothing wrong to feel like this. Like me, I too enjoyed parties because I...was bad at making friends. There are times when I feel like a worthless piece of shit myself."
"But you're rich...powerful," Loona added, gesturing to the opulent surroundings. "You have everything anyone could want."
"Being known as the 'son of a whore' tends to overshadow such privileges," Marchosias smiled bitterly as he met her gaze.
"...What?" That made Loona off-guard.
"My mother was a prostitute while my father is the President-Elector of the Ars Goetia. The rest of nobility never allows me to forget either fact."
"Shit, I'm sorry," Loona replied quickly. "I shouldn't have assumed..."
Marchosias dismissed her apology with a gentle smile. "No harm was done. To be honest, I no longer care what others think. It's simply a fact of my life now. You saw how happy Bee is, despite the fact that she is my half-sister."
"Wait, what? You and Bee are siblings?" Loona's eyes widened, surprised.
"Indeed," Marchosias nodded. "And that's how I know Vortex as well. Bee is ... fine, actually. Kind and caring in her own way, despite the constant partying. She's made something of herself, carved out her own niche in Hell's social circles." His expression darkened slightly. "Her mother, though... that's someone I'd rather avoid. Especially if you're an Hellhound."
Loona found herself leaning forward slightly, her own problems temporarily forgotten as she recognised the pain hidden beneath his calm exterior - a pain that felt surprisingly familiar despite their different backgrounds.
"I get why I've been so... awkward around you," Loona admitted, her tail swishing thoughtfully behind her. "March, you're surprisingly down to earth for a nobleman. There is no arrogance or condescension towards others. You're just you."
"Thanks, I like you too." Marchosias chuckled at this comment, thinking it was adorable and cute to hear from Loona. "But nobility is just a title, Loona. It doesn't change who you are unless you let it." He gestured to the countless artifacts and books surrounding them. "I chose to pursue my own interests, my own path. The title of Marquis doesn't define me – it's just another part of who I am, like being a Hellhound or... having an embarrassing addiction to cotton candy...I'm guilty of it."
"Ain' that truth." Loona's lips quirked into a playful smirk as she remembered how she had celebrated her Sinsmas once. She then looked around the cluttered study, wondering. "Speaking of interests, March. Does this whole 'overhoarding weird Hellhound relics' thing count as a hobby, or is it more of an obsession?"
"I prefer the term 'passionate collector of historical artifacts, Loona. But what can I say, Gluttony native at the end of day." he replied with mock dignity, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Though I suppose the line between hobby and obsession became rather blurry around the time I started converting my bedroom into additional archive space."
"Wait, you're serious?" Loona asked, her eyes widening slightly.
"More or less," Marchosias shrugged, pointing to the numerous artefacts around them. "But, yes, I collect anything and everything about our heritage. Every fragment, text, and relic that reflects who we were as Sons and Daughters of Vicara Shera."
"And why?" Loona asked softly, genuinely curious rather than judgemental.
The playful atmosphere vanished as Marchosias' expression changed, a shadow of melancholy crossing his features. His gaze shifted to the sword of Lycaon on his desk.
"Because I want to understand what went wrong in the end for our kind..." he said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of centuries of forgotten history. Marchosias' claws traced the edge of Lycaon's sword while he spoke, his voice becoming darker. "There is a reason why so many of us end up in adoption facilities, Loona. "Our history is a cycle of extinction and rebirth, rising from the ashes only to be pushed back down. Throughout history, Hellhounds have endured wave after wave of persecution. We rise up, build something meaningful...and then the cycle of oppression begins anew. Some of our kind couldn't take it anymore. They fled to the Ring of Limbo, those lawless wastes, carrying nothing but vengeance against Pandemonium's government in their hearts."
"Hence those raiders..." Loona muttered, a shiver running down her spine from her memories of those feral Hellhounds. "Something always felt... off about them."
"Because they're product of oppression." Marchosias returned to her, his expression grim. "Violence breeds violence, while resentment breeds resentment. History has a cruel habit of repeating itself. These "GreatHounds" or Buzzards cling to the past, believing it was our golden age under Alpha-Khan Lycaon. But they ignore history's lesson: that path previously led to our complete genocide, immediately following Lycaon's death. They're on the same path, but expecting to end up somewhere else.
"What about Bee's parties?" Loona enquired, her voice hesitant. "Do you think they're part of all this too?"
"Bread and circuses, Loona. Simples as that." Marchosias' expression became contemplative as he returned to his chair. "The parties are essentially an appeasement methods. Keep the Hellhounds busy with fun and spectacle, and maybe they won't notice their own growing resentments." He quickly raised a placating hand. "Don't get it wrong: Bee is not to blame for this. Her mother has her own way of dealing with revolts...methods that are especially cruel when Hellhounds are involved. But Bee herself? She's remarkably level-headed, especially for someone in her position. She genuinely cares about our kind, even if she can't always show it openly."
"Seems like being decent runs in at least part of the family," A playful smirk crossed Loona's features. "You're... actually really nice to me, you know that?"
"I appreciate your kind words, Loona, truly." A slight flush crept across Marchosias's face, visible even in the candlelight. He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. "But everything I do. All of this research, the preservation of our history – it's not for the Ars Goetia, and it's certainly not for my own glory."
He stood up, passion creeping into his voice as he continued.
"It's for our people."
When he was done, Marchosias paused, his ears drooping slightly as he realised how carried away he had gotten. He had no doubt that Loona would not be interested in his nonsense.
"I... apologize," he said, returning to his chair with an embarrassed chuckle. "I did not intend to burden you with all of this philosophical rambling. Sometimes I get a little...passionate about these issues."
"Hey, It's cool. Actually kind of nice to hear someone give a shit about something real for once." Loona shrugged, a hint of amusement playing at her lips. She then leaned back in her chair. "From what I understand, you want freedom from all this bullshit, right?"
"That's... actually a perfect way to put it," Marchosias smiled, impressed by her ability to cut through his scholarly verbosity. "That is why I hold such admiration for the Nomad Hellhounds. They've discovered a different path, one that avoids both Pandemonium and our violent past." His gaze shifted to the window, certain that his employees were having fun in the courtyard. "Sometimes I envy them, you know? They possess what our forefathers valued most: true freedom. While the Raiders cling to twisted versions of old traditions and the rest of us adjust to city life, the Nomads... understood the essence of what Hellhound culture was always meant to be."
"It's... weird how I feel about them," Loona admitted, shifting in her chair. "Like, on one side you've got Sköll and Hati just being complete walking pair disaster, but then..." She paused, searching for the appropriate words. "These family-oriented nomads have something kind of... endearing about them."
Marchosias looked at her thoughtfully, noting the curiosity beneath her hesitant words.
"You know... if you're interested in understanding them better, I could arrange something."
"What do you mean?"
"The Aldecaldos clan that I employ here in my castle are good people, very different from the typical Gang lifestyle. You could spend some time with them, learning their habits and understanding their point of view. I'd be willing to make an official agreement."
"I'm... not sure about that." Loona's ears perked up, despite her sceptical expression.
"Think of it as work," Marchosias continued, his enthusiasm permeating his tone. "I will compensate you for your time. All you'd have to do is help them when they need it, or just hang out and learn their ways." His expression softened. "Loona, I see you're troubled. Perhaps understanding a different aspect of Hellhound life will help you find what you're looking for."
Loona sat quietly for a moment, her tail moving in deliberate sweeps as she pondered the proposition. She won't lie, sometimes she wondered how some demons lived without permament home under the roof. "Biker style living" was an enigma among her peers. After thinking a bit, she finally let out a sigh.
"If I do this, I need to know I have the right to object to their demands. And I want the freedom to leave whenever I choose."
"Of course," Marchosias said, his tone indicating formal agreement. "And please tell me me immediately if you encounter any difficulties, especially with Cyrus since I see you two don't get along. I'll see that your concerns are addressed."
"And what about payment?"
"One hundred souls per hour," Marchosias casually stated, as if discussing the weather.
"That's... rather charitable," Loona said, raising her eyebrows slightly at the generous sum.
"It's nothing to me," Marchosias said softly, dismissing her surprise. "You are the one who needs it more than I do. I have more than enough wealth. If this is what motivates you to pursue my wish, I'm not against it."
Loona studied him for a moment longer, taking in his sincerity and the magnitude of what he was proposing. The chamber appeared to hold its breath as she pondered her response.
"Alright," she said finally, her voice firm and determined. "I accept your offer."
Marchosias' smile widened, his sharp canines flashing briefly as relief softened his tone. "I'm so glad you accepted, Loona. You've made an excellent decision. One that I believe will benefit not only you, but all of us here."
I mean, we'll see, right? Who knows, it could just be Hellhounds doing Hellhound things." Loona gave a slight shrug.
"Perhaps, but it could surprise you." Marchosias chuckled softly, his tone warm and genuine. He leaned slightly over his desk, gesturing at the sword resting on the table. "Well, it's been a fun break from my usual routine. But duty calls, and this relic demands my full attention." His gaze returned to her, suddenly serious. "But if you ever need anything you simply say the word. Cyrus, the Aldecaldos, and I... we're all here."
“Yeah, sure. I’ll... uh, check in with them. I guess.” Loona shifted on her feet, looking down and shuffling awkwardly.
“Good, see you then.” Marchosias said, satisfied. He returned his attention to the inscriptions on the blade, picking up his quill again.
Seeing that he needs all atention to the sword, Loona left him alone and departed towards the exit, not forgetting the reward from Marchosias on the table. As she was about to step out, Marchosias’s voice suddenly called after her, halting her just as the heavy wooden door began to creak open.
“And Loona,” He said softly. “One more thing: there is nothing wrong being boring. Look at me and remove my nobility...I will be just an average Hellhound of Gluttony. Each one of us is a soul with complex emotions, unique to each other. Even from few moments you and I get to know each other, I already can see you an amazing, smart and thoughtful lady I have met so far...please stay like this. Otherwise, there won't be any real Loona left."
Loona froze, her hand tightening on the handle for a moment. She exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze but letting the faintest smile tug at the corners of her lips.
“Yeah... thanks, March,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for his response, she slipped through the doorway and let it close behind her.
Marchosias stood quietly for a moment, his ears flicking thoughtfully before returning to his desk. A gentle hum of admiration escaped him. There was something uniquely satisfying about reaching out to someone like Loona and providing her with even the smallest glimmer of hope in a world fraught with isolation and hardship. She really needs it, and so does he.
And with that thought, the young Marquis retreated into the mystery of the sword, not forgetting his earlier concerns. Marchosias strode to the western wall where he kept his most controversial texts. His claws wrapped around two books: a massive tome bound in wolf leather titled "The Legend of Wild Hunt," and a slimmer, more innocuous volume – "The Horsemen of Apocalypse from Bible (Banned by Inferno)."
He laid both books on his desk, carefully moving several scrolls aside. The Wild Hunt text fell open easily to a well-studied page. It contained rather Hellhound's own mythology and paranormal beliefs in Vicarian culture. Knowing how much everything is connected in history of Inferno, it felt that it would provide him what he needed.
"When the moon burns crimson and the stars fade to ash, the Wild Hunt shall ride again. Led by the Alpha of Alphas, they shall descend upon the circles of Hell like a tempest of fangs and fury. No gate shall bar them, no wall shall stand before them, as they claim dominion over all they survey. Only through this grand conquest can the Hellhound Khan atone for the ancient sin against Vicara Sherah, and lead our kind to eternal peace in the hunting grounds beyond."
Marchosias's tension quickened as he turned to the forbidden Biblical text. He found the passage he sought:
"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.
"A sword," Marchosias whispered, his eyes darting between the texts and the weapon on his desk. "A sword made of material from the deepest circle of Hell... wielded by one who would bring doom..."
He began writing frantically in his journal, ideas flowing faster than his quill could move:
"The parallels cannot be ignored. Human prophecies speak of Death riding forth with Hell at his heels, while our legends tell of the Wild Hunt descending through Hell's Rings. Both speak of ultimate conquest, of a final reckoning. And Lycaon..." He glanced at the sword, its dark metal seeming to pulse in the flickering light. "Lycaon, who somehow obtained material from Treachery itself, who forged a weapon that carries the very essence of doom..."
Standing abruptly, Marchosias began to pace again, his scholar's robes swirling around him. "Could the legends be more literally connected than we realized? The Horseman Death and the Leader of the Wild Hunt – not separate entities, but one and the same? Was Lycaon chosen, marked somehow?"
He returned to his desk, carefully lifting the sword to examine its pommel again. Hidden within Lycaon's seal, nearly invisible unless you knew to look for it, was a tiny symbol that had always puzzled historians – a crescent moon being devoured by a wolf's head.
"It would explain everything," he murmured, making a quick sketch of the symbol in his notes. "The Roonium from Treachery Ring wasn't just a show of power or a trophy. It was a sign of office, a marker of his role. Lycaon wasn't just an Alpha-Khan..." His voice dropped to barely a whisper, as if the very walls might carry his words to unwanted ears. "He was Death incarnate, preparing for the final hunt."
The implications were staggering. If Lycaon had indeed been one of the Biblical Horsemen, if the Wild Hunt and the Apocalypse were two views of the same prophesied event... then the sword wasn't just a historical artifact. It was a herald of doom, waiting for the crimson moon to rise...
...
Is this what Lycaon really wanted?
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle.
The courtyard of Marchosias' castle, was alive with celebration of them succesfully destroying Buzzard raid party. The nomads of the Aldecaldo Clan, reveled under the starlit Hellish skies, their laughter blending with the crackling of flames. A group sat in a semicircle around the largest bonfire, sharing spirited travel stories. Cups were raised in toasts and filled with the best Infernal ale.
Husk lingered off to one side, exuding a detached, almost performative air. The cat demon sipped his drink from one bottle to the next, muttering half-hearted remarks as Hellhounds roared with drunken laughter around him.
Millie stood on the second-floor balcony, tea in hand, gazing out at the joyful crowd. She drank tea made by Marchosias himself, a brew intended to strengthen her immune system and nerves, which she appreciated after... everything that had happened to them. Millie took a quiet pleasure in watching the Hellhounds celebrate, despite being physically separated from them. Her attention lingered on how naturally they interacted, free of traditional family bullshit, as Imps usually do.
She placed the cup on the railing and sighed softly, remembering what her grandparents told her that Hellhounds are nothing but worthless dogs. Although, Millie held her grandparents in high regard, appreciating some values they instilled in her that helped in her difficult times. But even Millie understands their contempt for the Hellhounds stemmed from years of viewing them through the lenses of propaganda and prejudice.
However, after spending time with the Hellhounds, she developed a new perspective on them. Their loyalty, fierce independence, and strong sense of community called into question everything she'd heard...and then there was Loona. Loona was more than just another Hellhound; she was like Millie's younger sister. Despite Loona can be...moody at times, their bond had quietly grown over time with some hick-ups there and there.
"You hiding from all the fun too, shorty?" Millie's thoughts were interrupted by Loona's voice, prompting her to look up at the spiral staircase. The young Hellhound had ascended quietly, but now she leaned casually against the doorway, her tail swishing in lazy arcs.
Millie smiled as she set her teacup down again.
“Loona, hey. How’re you holdin’ up?” She asked gently, her tone carrying warmth and care...and trying to hide the fact she screamed at her two hours ago.
"Got my pay from Marchosias," Loona sighed and hopped up onto the railing with effortless grace. She remained balanced, legs swinging slightly, her usual demeanour tempered by exhaustion. "Two hundred thousand souls, just like he promised."
“That’s amazin’, sweetheart! I’m so happy for ya.” Millie expressed her delight, already glad that their adventure in that lair wasn't all that bad. She leaned forward slightly, her tone shifting to one of gentle advice. “Just... spend it wisely, alright? And don't tell your dad about it."
Loona glanced sideways at Millie, her expression softening as she nodded.
“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” She muttered, though there was genuine appreciation in her voice. “And thanks, Millie.”
The two were silent for a long time, watching the festivities below. Millie suddenly straightened up and let out a gentle laugh.
"Do you know what is funny? My grandmother once said, "Hellhounds can't dance without tripping over their own tails." She pointed to the courtyard, where the celebrations continued. "But look at them now - they're so good at his!"
Loona snorted, a rare genuine smile crossing her face. "Yeah, well, your grandmother never saw a wedding. Bee once told me she went to one because...nobility stuff and shit. So she once saw someone do a backflip off a table. Landed it right before his hip gave out."
"My brother Mikey had his entire leg snapped one time. Poor champ was unable to walk straight for three months."
"Got lucky then." Loona smirked at Millie's little story before reminding her how once special imp in her got so lucky. "How's Moxxie doing?" Is he..."
"He is fine, Loonie." Millie's features softened as she acknowledged Loona's concerns. "He is resting now, thanks to you and Marchosias. Your boyfriend says he'll recover completely with time and proper care.
He is not my boyfriend..." Loona snarled slightly, prompting Millie to roll her eyes at this nonsense. Millie noticed Loona's attempt to conceal her genuine affection for Marchosias. It's not like Millie herself wasn't like this when she got to know Moxxie better after the two of them spent some time together.
"Lord Marchosias has been an absolute blessing," Millie explained, lifting her teacup. "He's brewing a special blend for Moxxie, something to boost his immunity. Even made this one specifically for me." She inhaled the aromatic steam that rose from her cup. "Says it'll help me stay strong and healthy for ages to come."
"That hound knows his stuff," Loona agreed, her gaze drawn to the figure of Marchosias visible through one of the castle's windows, his silhouette illuminated as he worked with his usual stuff. "Never thought I'd say this, but we got lucky finding him."
Millie nodded, taking another sip of her tea. The warmth of the tea did little to ease the growing tightness in Millie's chest as fear began to surface. She set her cup down with trembling hands, the gentle clink against the stone railing.
"Loona, I need to tell you something." Millie began, her voice quiet but steady. She then turned to face the Hellhound fully, with regret. "I've been terrible to you. Not just today, but from the very beginning that I met you. Those awful things I said back in the Buzzard's lair, and when I screamed at you two hours ago..." She paused, gathering her courage. "I was wrong. So terribly wrong." Millie's hands clasped together, her knuckles whitening with the force of her grip. "When I saw Moxxie lying there, burning up with that fever, I just... I lost myself. But that's no excuse for the venom I spat at you. You didn't deserve any of it."
Loona remained perched on the railing, her eyes darting back to the ground. After a moment, she let out a deep breath, her tail swishing behind her.
"Can't really blame you, Mills. Shit, if someone had fucked up thing happened with Blitz and he'd...I...i wouldn't have stopped at just words." She paused, her ears flattening slightly at the thought. A distant cheer erupted from the courtyard below. Loona's gaze drifted toward the celebration at first before returning to Millie. "Look, everything worked out for all of us. Moxxie's alive, Marchosias came through with his idea, and those Raider bastards got what they deserved...But, uh, maybe don't tell Moxxie about this heart-to-heart conversation between us?"
"Your secret's safe with me, sugar. Pinky promise." A warm chuckle escaped Millie's lips as she extended her pinky finger toward Loona. The gesture, childish as it might have seemed, shown a strong bond between them.
Loona rolled her eyes but hooked her own claw around Millie's pinky, careful not to scratch her. With them signing their little secret, Millie turned her attention back to the celebration below,
"You know, with Moxxie still needin' time to recover, that contract for Legatus Moxxara's head gonna have to wait." She gestured toward them. "Why don't you join them? These are your people, after all. Might as well make the most of our stay here."
"Actually," Loona said, shifting her position slightly on the railing, "I was already planning to stick around for a bit. Marchosias offered me a job – said he'd pay me to help out around here. Figured it beats sitting around waiting for Moxxie to get better."
"That's wonderful, sweetheart! You absolutely should do it." Millie's face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. She placed a gentle hand on Loona's arm. "It'd be good for you to learn from someone like him. And hey, if you're in it for the money too, ain't nothing wrong with that. Sometimes the best opportunities come wrapped in multiple benefits."
"Yeah, you're right," Loona acknowledged, dismounting from her perch on the railing. She stretched before asking about her. "You're not sticking around?"
"Nah, I'm going sleep. Hit 31 and I will see you how you handle it, honey. Go on, have fun with them." Millie encouraged.
"Guess I should make an appearance before they drink all the good stuff." Loona cast a final glance at Millie. "Thanks for... you know."
"Don't drink too much." Millie encouraged, lifting her teacup in a small salute as Loona descended the spiral staircase.
As Loona approached the group near the campfire, her presence drew immediate notice. Hati honoured her by raising his chalice into the air.
"Hey, check it out, fam! "If it isn't the queen herself!" Hati's announcement rang through the group. "You better recognise her; this is the shorty who went savage on those Buzzard boys! Had those punks running scared!"
The surrounding Hellhounds erupted in applause and raised their beverages. Several of the younger pack members cleared space in their circle, eagerly gesturing for Loona to join them.
"Licking my feet won't make you get into my pants, Hati." Loona returned the sass, joining on the seat near Husk.
Hati only juts laughed, taking a shot before continuing. "Hah, for real though. You see, brothers and sisters, our girl here threw down like it was nothing. Straight up ended their whole raid party, feel me? Now that's what I call representing - !"
"Would you kindly just shut fuck up already, Hati?" Dakota interjected. The female Hellhound then looked at Loona, wanting to be straightforward and honest. "Ignore him, sister. We were just telling our fellow clan members about your incredible fight with the Buzzards. Your prowess was very impressive, girl." She extended the bottle towards Loona as an offering. "Come drink with us. "You've earned it."
"It wasn't such a big deal. Those Buzzards may have appeared terrifying as Heaven, but they fought like amateurs. "Loona accepted the bottle and removed the pork. "Still wouldn't want to deal with them again, though."
"No shit." Dakota's expression became serious as she sat comfortably near the fire. "The buzzards have grown increasingly hostile in recent months. They were territorial, yes. But now our clan patrols are now encountering their raiding parties at an alarming rate. Just last week, New Limbo lost two Pride Ring caravans to their ambushes.
Loona took a thoughtful sip from her bottle before responding. "Lord Marchosias mentioned something about them being traditionalists or whatever. Said they're Hellhounds who stuck to the old ways."
"Traditionalists?" Dakota let out a controlled breath, her tail twitching with barely concealed irritation. "You can dress up barbarism in whatever way you want, but a raider is still a raider. It's precisely why Lord Marchosias hires our clan to protect the trade routes and keep them at bay."
"And don't even get me started on this I.R.A. business," Hati interrupted, his earlier exuberance replaced by genuine concern. "Those trigger-happy fools made everything tenfold worse, no cap. Previously, you could try to talk your way out of a situation. Now?" He shook his head, grimly. "They just start blasting the moment they spot anyone who ain't their own."
"So what's the deal with your clan anyway? Been meaning to ask." Loona took another long drink from her bottle, letting the sweet honey fruit flavor linger. With that all that clan talk, it made her to wonder for more. Hati's tail immediately began wagging as he opened his mouth to speak, but Loona quickly raised a hand. "Not from you, Hati. No offense, but I'd like to hear it without your commentary."
Dakota's quiet laugh echoed across the fire as Hati's spirits plummeted, but his sense of humour persisted. She shifted her position, her bearing carrying the weight of someone who had lived through the events she was about to recount.
"Truth to be told, Loona. It's very hard for me explain to an outsider if you don't see it." Dakota began. "But I can say a little bit history. The Aldecaldos weren't always as you see us now. We were an chapter of "Lost And Dammned" MC motorcycle club, if you can believe it, with Gluttony as our main territory."
"Of course we're not only one out there. They are also Blood Nation, Snake Nation, the Jodes, Thelas Nation, and us, the Aldecaldos. All of them were chapters of MC in respective territories." Hati added.
"Surprised you remember that, Hati." Dakota smirked before continuing. "But he is correct. We had chapters across multiple territories, official charters, the whole arrangement." Her expression darkened slightly. "Then came the MC wars."
"Guess that's what destroyed you guys." Loona commented.
"Sounds about right." Dakota sighed. "You know how it is. The violence between chapters grew beyond. The Pandemonium used it as an excuse for a massive crackdown. They didn't just disband the clubs – they destroyed them. Many of our brothers and sisters were imprisoned or worse."
"Our own boss, Santiago Aldecaldo, was killed." Dakota's gaze swept across the gathered Hellhounds. "But Cyrus saved us and saw an opportunity to rebuild in the ashes of what we'd lost. He gathered the survivors, the ones who'd managed to escape the purge, and proposed a new way forward. No more clubs, no more territories – just the open road and the freedom to choose our own path. Most Hellhounds you see here, they're refugees from Gluttony's oppression. Souls who grew weary of living under the Ring's suffocating control."
"Why? What made them crack down so hard?" Loona leaned forward, her interest genuinely piqued.
"Ask our Queen and her party child, Loona. The Gluttony Ring attempts to mold Hellhounds into what they believe we should be – docile, predictable, controlled. We've always been wanderers, living by our own code. What you see here are those who chose to remember who we truly are, rather than what the Ring wants us to become."
"Yeah, I noticed that," Loona commented as observed the interactions around them – Hellhounds sharing food, telling stories, helping each other with various tasks. "You all treat each other like actual family. Not just saying it, but actually acting like it."
"That's because we are family, in every way that matters. It's one of our most sacred tenets: every member of the clan is a brother or sister to all others. When you join the Aldecaldos, you're never alone again. The clan will always have your back, no matter what troubles you face. Personal disputes, challenges, problems – we face them together. The entire clan participates in resolving conflicts between members. It's how we maintain peace and unity. And if someone from outside the clan dares to harm one of our own? Well, they quickly learn that attacking one Aldecaldos means dealing with all of us. We protect our own, always."
"All this clan business reminds me of the anarchist clubs back in my day. Same kind of loyalty, same kind of structure – or lack thereof." Husk's gravelly voice cut through the conversation as he approached the circle with a bottle in hand.
"To a Sinner, I imagine our ways might be nonsensical or even stupid. But for Hellhounds? This freedom, this unity – it's the most natural state of existence we could hope to achieve." Dakota then turned her attention back to Loona, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Speaking of which, you've been asking quite a few questions about our way of life. Should we be preparing a welcome ceremony?"
"No." Loona replied, her ears twitching slightly as she tried to maintain her usual detached demeanour. Though something in her expression indicated that the idea was not entirely unwelcome. "Marchosias hired me to help you out guys when needed. That's all."
"While your initiative is admirable, dear, these matters aren't quite so simple. Any arrangement involving clan support needs to go through Cyrus first." Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "He's rather... particular about his role as the clan's father figure."
"Particular?" Hati, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly burst into wheezing laughter. "That's putting it real nice-like! Last time someone tried to skip the mundane work, Cyrus gave him the full 'disappointed father' treatment!"
"Yeeeep...he takes his responsibilities quite seriously. Every single member of this clan is his 'child' in his eyes, and he insists on being involved in all major decisions affecting their health being. Clan goes first."
"Great, just what I needed. A white wolf... breathing down my neck." Loona let out an audible sigh, running a hand through her stark white hair.
Dakota chuckled, the sound warm and unbothered.
"I know it sounds daunting but Cyrus is a lot less intense once you get to know him. He can be distrustful to you, sure, but when he sees that you’re capable, he’ll back off. That’s just his way of saying, ‘I trust you.’ Annoying at first, maybe, but it's kinda sweet once you’re on the receiving end of it."
"Sweet isn’t exactly what I’d call a welcome party when he and I met. Loona gave her an incredulous side-eye.
"Think of it as an initiation. He does it to everyone, and I mean everyone." Dakota smirked, apparently unfazed by the jab. "But trust me, if you don’t immediately snap his head off, he’ll probably grow to respect you. Maybe even like you."
"Great," Loona muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm.
"You'll survive. We all did." Dakota laughed, shaking her head. "If you're ready to get this over with, you'll find him outside the castle. He’s and our main mechanic got a little workshop in the old warehouse left of the front courtyard. He’s probably buried in some engine grease right about now."
Loona groaned and shook her head as she started walking towards the courtyard. "This better be worth the headache."
"Happy trails!"
"Yeah, sure," Loona rolled her eyes at Dakota's parting smirk but did not respond, heading towards the warehouse Dakota had pointed out.
Compared to the castle, the warehouse was an unimpressive structure. Its weathered metal doors were slightly open, allowing the aroma of motor oil and faint notes of grease-soaked leather to escape. Inside, the dim lighting revealed a cluttered workspace filled with tools, spare parts, and half-finished bikes.
Loona noticed Cyrus as soon as she entered the room. The white wolf crouched next to a motorbike, tightening bolts on the engine with such intensity that nothing else seemed to exist. His white-gray fur was streaked with grime from the task, and the tendons in his arms flexed slightly with each deliberate movement. A low hum rumbled through his chest. A habit for him, not a greeting.
Loona made her way to him, scanning her surroundings and lingering just long enough to find the sheer amount of tools vaguely intimidating. Even the war rig was here, being fixed.
Loona straightened up and coughed, not so subtly, hoping to get his attention. Nothing happened, hence she frowned, narrowing her eyes to the unwaveringly focused wolf. She coughed again, louder this time, her tail flicking with increasing impatience.
Cyrus didn't flinch or even look her way. His gaze remained fixed on the bike as he tightened another bolt. Loona's lips tightened. Normally, she would have responded with a sharp, attention-grabbing quip, but something about his complete disinterest in her presence made her pause. Instead, she moved closer and crossed her arms.
“Uh… hey.” She finally said, keeping her tone somewhere between casual and irritated. “Dakota sent me over...names Loona, by the way.”
Cyrus glanced briefly at her, his red eyes sharp yet unreadable. Then, with no more reaction than acknowledging the presence of another tool in the room, he looked back down at the bike continued to work once more.
"Seriously? That's it?" Loona blinked, unsure whether to feel surprised or offended. "What's so important about this bike that you can’t even pretend to acknowledge me properly?"
"Keeping the carburetor sealed. If not, the engine stalls, and the rider crashes."
"You know most demons would just say, ‘I’m busy,’ right?” Loona stared at him, trying to decide if he was deliberately being obtuse or if this was just how he was.
Cyrus stopped, resting his hand on the wrench as though mulling over her words.
“I’m working right now.” He said simply, resuming his task as though that answered everything.
Loona exhaled sharply, her patience wearing thin. "Look, I get it. You're still pissed because I haggled with Marchosias. Is this what's it's about?"
"Hmm." Cyrus paused in his work, though his eyes remained fixed on the motorcycle's engine. The sound rumbled deep in his chest before he continued. "The sword you brought. Ancient Hellhound artifact. Sacred to the Buzzards, it seemed. Now they're angrier. More aggressive. More likely to attack than before."
"Why do you even care? I thought your boys and girls are toughest bikers out there." Loona challenged, her tail bristling slightly.
Finally, Cyrus looked up, his red eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her want to take a step back.
"Clan safety. Always comes first." He wiped his hands on a nearby rag. "Every attack risks lives. Every confrontation endangers my family. Your deal with Marchosias? It made things worse."
"Hard to believe someone like you cares this much about others," Loona scoffed.
Cyrus straightened from his work, fixing her with an unblinking stare. "Do you have family? Siblings? Parents? What would you do to keep them safe?"
The question caught Loona off guard. Her usual sharp retort died in her throat as memories of Blitzo's annoying but sincere attempts at fatherhood flooded her mind. She stood there, mouth slightly open, no words coming.
"Exactly." Cyrus turned back to his motorcycle, reaching for another tool. "Now, why are you here?"
"Like I said, Dakota sent me. Everything has to go through you, apparently." Loona regained her composure, but her tail remained twitchy with irritation. "Marchosias hired me to help your clan. That's the whole story."
"We don't need help from a Gluttony Hellhound...." Cyrus stated flatly, his hands never pausing in their work.
"Why don't you say that to my friend Vortex right into face? He's from Gluttony too." A low snarl escaped Loona's throat.
"Vortex...big wolf? Works security?" Cyrus paused, setting down his wrench. For the first time, he finally shown some attention.
"Yeah, that's him," Loona confirmed, surprise evident in her voice. "You know him?"
"He rode with us...long time ago." Cyrus' expression changed subtly, almost imperceptibly. He studied Loona with a new perspective. "If you're a friend of his...then fine, I'll give you the benefit of doubt... for now."
He wiped his hands on the rag again, but this time more deliberately. Cyrus then set the rag aside, leaned against the motorcycle, and gave Loona his full attention.
Notes:
Funny titbit here.
In the part where Loona tries to sexually harass Marchosias, I did this not for "Haha, funny drama moment" but as an homage to how Loona is a fan favourite in fandom for reasons of... I mean, come on, guys. Loona used to be called a "furry bait" for a long time (Maybe even today) before we got something of "Loona has a character" in the series. Oh, no-no-no, you both know how right I am.
You think I don't know you have a human-sized Loona plushy or body pillow, reader? Oh boy, let me tell you how you're 100% hiding it from me....you don't? Well then, prove it, tough guy! Come on! Show me your body pillow!
...
You showed me an Emberlynn Pinkle Body Pillow instead... You-you-what?! I mean, I understand you drooling over Loona, but HER?! As a 100% certified Loona-stan, I cannot fathom how could you-*BLAM*
Chapter 39: Keep Your Friends Close -
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
October 5, 2025, AD ( *Kzzz* Days Before The Next [ERROR]: PLEASE INFORM THE ADMINISTRATOR FOR PROPER AUTHORIZATION), 9:54 PM.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle.
With the Hell's sun setting once more, the vibrant lights of New Limbo once again overtook the city. The old castle of Marchosias remained calm, quiet, and somewhat isolated from the rest of the city. Octavia must give some credit for Marchosias' choice of this place. His castle feels very comfortable and isolated in a good way, making her forget her worries and lingering anxiety about what's to come...
And it isn't pretty.
Octavia Goetia's boots clicked against the floor as she walked to her bedroom chambers, each step feeling heavier than the last. After entering her room, she quietly closed the door, away from the prying eyes of Goetia nobility and the seemingly endless speculation. However, even in this temporary haven, she was unable to escape the anxiety.
Olivia wasn't present, unfortunately. Octavia would not pretend that she didn't need a voice of reason and comfort right now. Even as she got onto bed, Octavia stared blankly at her phone as the last rays of sunlight painted her room in grey, a reminder that time waits for no one, not even Hell. She had promised him she would make this call today, and she had vowed she would not let another evening pass in silence. Yet here she sat, paralyzed by everything and unsure of what she needed or had to tell her father... about the whole mess.
Needless to say, since Octavia arrived in Limbo, there has been a constant barrage of bullshit and "shit hit the fan" moments that have outperformed one another in the long run. First there was I.R.A train ambush, a crash, the disappearance of Charlie, Moxxie nearly dying at the hands of Raider Hellhounds, and the most recent meeting between her and Focalor with Barbatos, only to learn that the city will be besieged sooner or later. The last one, which was the final nail in her coffin of willpower to stay here... and she is here because of her quest for some stupid McGuffin book... not to mention how now she sounded like Gaap at times with complaining.
At this point, Octavia's teenage spirit screamed at her to say fuck it, give the entire electorate the middle finger, and go home to do whatever. At the same time, a much older part of her wanted to keep going and push harder no matter what. In her heart, Octavia desired to see and read the Original Book of Solomon. So much knowledge remained unknown, and so much she could learn from it...something told her that if she found that book, no matter what, it would be worthwhile in the end. Her father would at least understand that part.
Octavia has to understand that she is not the first nor the last who felt it like that. How many times had her own father, as a young prince, navigated himself through Goetian politics? But this was different. This wasn't just about politics, traditions, or obligations. This was about making a decision that could affect not only her future... but also the future of Ars Goetia. And a little part of her spirit didn't like it...at all.
"Just call him already, Via. You can do this." Octavia muttered to herself, her voice barely above a whisper as the mood became increasingly tense. Her thumb hovered over Stolas' contact information, his profile picture—a formal portrait from "happier" times"—looking back at her. And so, as Octavia's courage grew, there was no turning back from this...
Click
Octavia's finger finally pressed Stolas' contact photo. The soft buzz of the outgoing call filled the room as she raised the phone to her ear, her heart pounding against her ribcage. One ring. Two rings. Each second felt like an eternity as she gathered her thoughts, attempting to find the appropriate words to describe everything in the meantime. Again, how much she needs to tell. Should she tell about Char-
"Via, you there?" Stolas' voice came through the phone, warm and familiar, instantly easing some of the tension in her shoulders.
Octavia took a deep breath, steadied herself, and responded with more confidence than she had expected at first.
"Hi, Dad. Sorry for not calling sooner—I probably made you worried sick, huh?"
"My starfire, of course I'm worried about you." A gentle chuckle came through from her phone, carrying with it the affection she'd known her entire life. "But I must say, it is wonderful to hear your lovely voice. You sound... different. More mature, somehow."
"Oh, please, it must be the telephone connection. Signals aren't very reliable up here in Limbo." Octavia rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a small smile that tugged at her beak. Despite her deflection, she felt a warm sensation spread through her chest at his words. "How are things back home?"
"Things are going well here, actually. Wonderful in some ways. Phenex and I have been quite busy with various preparations for your return. There's something special in the works, a surprise I believe you'll especially enjoy."
"Oh?" Octavia shifted on her bed and tucked her legs beneath her. "Is this the taxidermy collection I mentioned for my twenty-fourth birthday? The one with prehistoric Earth creatures?"
"Well, that too, my starlight, but there's something even better in store. Though I'm afraid you'll have to wait to find out—it would completely ruin the surprise if I told you now."
"I'll hold you to that; it better be good, Dad." Octavia chuckled. She was genuinely curious despite everything else on her mind. She paused for a moment, her talons tracing patterns on her bedspread before continuing. "How are you and Phenex doing? I understand things were... tense between you two before I left."
The question was phrased more carefully than she had intended at first. But it seems it didn't bother Stolas; in fact, his voice even raised.
"We made peace, Via. And Phenex has been helpful in her way, actually. She's been helping me address certain... loose ends."
"Like what?"
"Oh, just making sure my past complications won't create any difficulties for you when it's your time to rule properly." Stolas assured her, his tone softening. There was a note of something in his voice—regret, perhaps, or determination to make things right. "We're both committed to ensuring you won't have to deal with the consequences of my previous... failures."
"Oh, Dad. Come on. You don't need to do all this." Octavia said as she stepped out onto her chambers' balcony. The cool evening air brushed against her feathers as she looked out over the sprawling cityscape below, watching as New Limbo's lights came to life one by one, like stars emerging in reverse. "I am the Marquise now. I can handle whatever comes my way."
"Via, I..." Stolas began, and a heavy sigh passed through the call, laden with years of experience and regret. "The greatest failure a father can make is to burden his child with the consequences of his own mistakes. Your reign as Marquise should be yours alone: clean, independent, and free of inherited problems. You deserve to be able to make your own decisions and forge your own path without constantly looking over your shoulder at the shadows of my past."
"Dad, you were never a burden for me. I need you to understand that." Octavia spoke softly, her gaze focused on the glittering expanse of New Limbo below. The city lights appeared to blur slightly as she blinked back the unexpected moisture from her eyes. She leaned against the balcony's stone railing to collect her thoughts before continuing. "Look, I know I've said some horrible things before. I blamed you for everything that had gone wrong in my life, making you feel responsible for my misery."
"You don't—" Stolas wanted to protest Octavia's apology attempt.
"No, father. Let us be honest here. I was such a stupid and naive child... I could not see how Mother was manipulating everything to turn me against you. I just couldn't see it then." Octavia's voice caught slightly, but she persisted, determined to tell the truth that had taken her years to comprehend. The night air had cooled, but Octavia barely noticed. Her grip on the phone tightened as the emotions she'd suppressed for so long were finally expressed. "I want you to know that I will honor you to the end, Dad. Everything you've built, everything you've taught me, matters." She took a deep, steadying breath before saying in an emotional voice, "And I promise you, I will never abandon you again... not like that time. Never again."
A reverent silence fell between them, heavy with the weight of years of pain finally being addressed. The silence that followed Octavia's words stretched across the call, conveying unspoken emotion. Stolas would finally speak, and his voice was gentle and melancholy, making Octavia's heart ache.
"You know...sometimes I wish you could have known your grandmother, for she should have stopped this whole conflict before it could have been started. But even if she isn't here with us, she would have been immensely proud of the noble you've become, Via. The way you carry yourself, your dedication to knowledge, your growing wisdom... she would have seen herself in you."
"I understand... and to be honest. I kind of wanted a sibling too when I was younger. Recently I saw a pair of two siblings, a brother and sister, and I felt a bit envious of how wholesome they were." Octavia's fingers traced the intricate patterns carved into the balcony's stone railing as shared it.
"Why didn't you tell me about this, Via? I could have— "
"No, Dad. I can't just storm into your room and demand a younger sibling...and knowing how much you and your mother dislike each other, I understand it wasn't possible. That ship sunk into the Depths of Envy a long time ago."
"Yes, it was...not possible at a certain point." Stolas cleared his throat gently, his tone becoming more present and concerned. "But, tell me. How are things going at your end? You've been pretty quiet about your adventures in Limbo lately."
...
Great
Octavia let out a quiet curse as the inevitable topic came up. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, she could postpone this conversation for a while longer, but the weight of recent events was too great to ignore. Her fingers tightened around the phone, bringing back the teenage anxiety she thought she had outgrown.
"It's full-on shit, Dad." Octavia finally admitted, her words coming out with uncharacteristic bluntness. She turned away from the city lights, pressing her back against the cool stone of the balcony railing, as if for support. "I'm not even sure where to begin. It seems like every hour brings a new disaster, causing me to question everything at this point."
"How so, Via?"
Octavia closed her eyes, trying to organize the chaos of recent events into something coherent.
"Well, it started rough from the very beginning. Our train to Limbo was ambushed by the I.R.A. They had us under siege, but we managed to make it into Limbo territory eventually..." She paused, hearing her father's sharp intake of breath through the phone. So she had to quickly assure that she is fine. "The important thing is that we made it. Marchosias' servants found us and brought us to safety. His castle has been... surprisingly comfortable, actually. It's given us a chance to rest for now before our expedition with Gaap can start."
The partial truth sat uncomfortably in her chest, like a stone pressing down on her lungs. She couldn't bring herself to tell him how, in reality, the train crashed, Moxxie was injured by raiders, and they had to walk for two days. Octavia isn't sure why she couldn't...was she afraid of dragging her father into her mess...or was she being neglectful, forgetting that her father existed in the place?
"My starfire... you're doing exactly what I used to do, aren't you?" Stolas spoke with a knowing gentleness that made Octavia's chest tighten.
"What do you mean?" Her response was perhaps a little too quick.
"Protecting me from the whole truth. Carrying burdens alone because you believe it is better that way." Stolas' tone was not accusatory, but rather one of understanding. "I used to do the same thing to you, you know. And look what happened...remember your confrontation with Uncle Andrephalus?"
"Yeah, I remember it..." The memory hit Octavia like a physical blow. She sank down to the balcony floor, her back against the cool stone. How often had she resented him for keeping secrets? For attempting to shield her from uncomfortable truths? And now she was standing at the same crossroads as her dad was...history loves to repeat itself, really.
Like father, like fucking daughter all over again...
But as she opened her beak to confess everything, another thought stopped her. She pictured her father's face contorted with worry, imagined him dropping everything to rush to Limbo, potentially creating even more problems...especially if Stolas will get himself killed by I.R.A's siege. Plus, the Book of Solomon, Charlie's disappearance, the Raiders—each truth felt like a weapon that could wound him even more...not to mention how much it will make things worse.
"Via?" Stolas prompted gently. "Whatever it is, we can face it together."
"Dad, I..." Octavia took in a shaky breath, feeling the guilt of her decision. "You are right. I have not told you everything. My time here has been... difficult. But I am handling it. I have good people around me, and I am learning to be the Goetian noble. Sometimes protecting someone requires carrying certain burdens alone. I understand that now more than I ever did..."
"Just be yourself, Via. That's all I ask. Don't let the burden of protection become a wall between us, as I once did. Some secrets are necessary, but don't forget that strength can also mean knowing when to share your struggles. Surround yourself with demons who you know you can rely on...and ditch those who use you for their own gain."
"I promise, Dad. And I will tell you everything... just not yet. Not until I've figured out how to handle it all." Octavia's grip tightened on her phone as she gazed up at the stars—the same stars her father had taught her to name as a child. "But... could I ask for your advice about something? It's about the Book of Solomon, as I've been wondering lately... is it truly as significant as everyone claims? Worth all this... bullshit?"
There was a thoughtful pause on the other end of the line before Stolas let his voice be known.
"What brought this question to mind, Via?"
"It's just... I'm conflicted." Octavia shifted her position on the balcony. "Dad, I can't help but wonder if we're chasing something that should perhaps remain lost."
"From what I heard, the Book of Solomon has always inspired both fear and desire for eons of Ars Goetia, Via." Stolas responded thoughtfully. "Its pages contain more than just spells and summoning circles. They hold truths about our very nature, our spirits, and our potential. Of course, in the wrong hands, such knowledge could indeed be weaponized for worse."
"Then maybe it's better left unfound then..." Octavia suggested, voicing the doubt that had been growing in her mind.
"Or perhaps it needs to be found by someone who understands both its value and its dangers. Someone who seeks knowledge not for power, but for understanding. Someone like you, my dear." Stolas countered gently.
"But how can I be sure I'm making the right choice...?" Octavia felt her chest tighten at his words.
"Via, let me tell you something about power and knowledge of princes." Stolas began, his tone taking on the familiar cadence he used when sharing important lessons. "Those who fear the Book's discovery most are often the ones who understand its true significance least. They see it as a threat to their authority. But knowledge, real knowledge, doesn't destroy order—it illuminates truth."
"Even if that truth is uncomfortable?" Octavia questioned, thinking of the barely concealed threats in Barbatos's words.
"Especially then." Stolas affirmed. "From what we know, the Book of Solomon isn't just a collection of spells and secrets, Via. It's a testament to understanding—understanding of both Heaven and Hell, of the nature of power itself. In the right hands, such understanding could bridge gaps we've long thought unbridgeable."
"And you really think I'm the right person for this?" Octavia mulled over his words, watching as the last remnants of daylight faded from Limbo's sky.
"I think you're asking the right questions." Stolas replied carefully. "You're not blindly pursuing power or running from responsibility. You're weighing consequences, considering implications, questioning motivations—including your own. That, my dear, is exactly why you might be the perfect person to find it."
His words hung over her like a warm blanket, comforting yet heavy with responsibility. Looking up at the stars, which had guided generations of Goetias before her, Octavia felt a shift in her mindset. Perhaps the book's significance was not in its power but in who sought it and why. Somehow with Stolas' reasoning, she felt more...peaceful with it. For better or worse, and if she will get that book...she will have to decide sooner or later.
"Thank you, Dad. I think... I think I understand better now, really." Octavia said softly.
"You are welcome, my Starfire. Just remember that whatever you decide, whatever path you take, I am here to support you. Even if I don't always agree with your decisions, I'll always admire the thought you put into them.
The words brought a small smile to Octavia's beak, even though she continued to keep certain truths to herself. Some burdens she would still bear alone, but perhaps not all of them needed to be so heavy. But she at least can share some of the less important topics, such as the typical court rumors and gossips.
"I've been wondering... have you ever personally encountered Goetias like Barbatos, Focalor, or Amy when you were a prince?"
A soft, contemplative hum came through the phone.
"I know Barbatos well enough. Pff, he's been Astaroth's shadow since I was a prince. Always lurking at the Duke-Elector's side, handling tasks that are too mundane for his master to get his hands dirty with directly. Efficient, yes, but ultimately a servant like all of us." Stolas' tone had a hint of distaste.
"And what of Focalor?" Octavia continued, noting how carefully her father had phrased his opinion of Barbatos.
"Duke Focalor is... more complicated." Stolas admitted, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "Your mother mentioned him occasionally during our marriage. He is a Duke of Warfare and highly respected in Ars Goetia for his skills and tactical prowess, but I have had few interactions with him. It would be presumptuous of me to form a definitive opinion right now, so I recommend that you form your own opinion as you become acquainted with him."
"Okay..." Octavia shifted her position, watching as a group of imps darted through the streets below. "And how about President Amy? Out of three, she appears... different from the others.
"Amy was Kimaris' daughter, from what I know. Even by Goetia standards, the Kimaris House was quite private. They kept to themselves until Ars Bael killed Kimaris for betrayal. Though, from what I've heard, Amy has proven to be quite capable, standing out from her family's past. I think she is your peer, so I believe she is fine for you to get along with."
"Okay, I get it. "Thank you, Dad." Octavia closed her eyes to process this information. "It's just, can I trust any of them? Do you really trust them?
"In Ars Goetia, trust is as rare as a genuine smile. Unlike Gaap, whom I would advise you to keep at arm's length at all times, these three... well, they can be worked with but never completely trusted."
"Saying from experience, eh?"
"Unfortunately, yes. In the Princedom of Ars Goetia, friendship and alliance are frequently formed solely because two parties have a common goal." Stolas explained, his voice taking on the familiar teaching tone he had been taught. "As long as your goals are compatible with theirs, they will maintain a friendly façade. But keep in mind that when your interests diverge, that façade can shatter."
"So what should I do then?" Octavia nodded, though her father couldn't see it.
"Have you ever heard the phrase 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' Via?" Stolas inquired with a hint of wry amusement in his voice. "It's more than just a phrase in Ars Goetia. It is a strategy. My advice: Keep a close eye on them. Understand their motivations, fears, and ambitions. The more you learn about them, the better prepared you will be to navigate their schemes."
"And Gaap? He does have a certain... charismatic way about him that makes me feel confused about him. Like he is a little shit, but even then I can't exactly see his true intentions even if I don't trust him." Octavia recalled Gaap's gleaming smile, his theatrical gestures, and his seemingly casual remarks that always carried hidden barbs.
"Especially him." Stolas' voice hardened slightly. "Zepar's son is especially dangerous because he doesn't hide his true nature. He flaunts his untrustworthiness like it's a badge of honor, which causes some people to relax around him. Do not make that mistake. Keep him close enough to watch but not close enough to attack. And keep in mind that in the game of Goetian politics, the most valuable ally is often the one who admits to being your enemy. At the very least, you'll know where you stand."
Octavia reflected on her father's words as she watched the eternal stars of Hell twinkle above. The political landscape she was navigating suddenly appeared more complex, yet also clearer. Like the constellations her father had taught her to read, once you understood the patterns, you could use them to navigate yourself quite easily.
"Okay, Dad. Thank you. I believe I now understand why you insisted on those endless lessons when I was younger.
"And here I thought you were sleeping through most of them." A warm chuckle came over the phone.
"Only about half..." Octavia replied with a slight smile. "Though I'm starting to wish I'd paid attention to more of them."
"You'll get used to all of this in no time, Via." Stolas chuckled warmly. "I have absolutely no doubts about your ability to navigate these problems. You've already demonstrated more wisdom than I did at your age."
"Uh-huh, definitely, yep." Octavia responded, feeling a warm rush through her chest at his confidence. She paused for a moment, gathering her courage before addressing a more personal matter. "Speaking of future plans, how are things going between you and Blitzo? Have you given any thought to moving in together?"
The slight catch in Stolas' breath was almost imperceptible, but Octavia noticed it right away. She did catch him off guard surprisingly.
"Well... I've been thinking that perhaps once I've ensured your transition to Marquise is completely secure, once everything is properly arranged..." He hesitated, recalling their heated exchange over that time. "Then maybe I could settle down with Blitzy without... without being a burden to your rule."
"Dad, you already know you'll always be welcome in my life, right? In fact..." Octavia's voice softened as a small, mischievous smile played at her beak. "Now that I'm becoming an independent Marquise, I might even be able to arrange some things that could make your position more... comfortable. Perhaps pull a few political strings of my own like Phenex did with me."
"Via, you don't need to—"
"I know I don't have to. But I want to. You deserve to be happy, Dad...you both do." She interjected gently. A comfortable silence formed between them, filled with unspoken understanding. Octavia stifled a yawn as she checked the time on her phone. "I should probably sleep soon. It is getting rather late here in Limbo.
"Of course, my Starfire," Stolas said, his voice warm and affectionate. "Thank you for calling me. It means more than you realize to hear your voice and know you're safe... as safe as one can be in these dark times."
"I'll try to call more often when I can." Octavia promised as she rose from the balcony. "Oh, and Dad?"
"Yes, Via?"
"I hope you and Blitzo find your happiness together..." She said softly, meaning every word. "Whatever you choose in the end...have a great life with him, Dad."
Those words hung in the air for Stolas, so different from the angry, bitter version she'd hurled at him a few years ago. This time it carried hope, acceptance, and genuine well-wishes. She could hear the emotion in her father's voice when he responded once more.
"Thank you, my precious Starfire. Stay safe, and come back to us soon."
"I will...bye, Dad."
And thus, Octavia ended the call to end this little... bittersweet moment. The Young Marquise remained at her balcony for a moment longer, watching the eternal stars of Hell twinkle above. Despite all the secrets she'd kept, despite all the burdens she still carried alone, something felt lighter in her heart.
Perhaps they were both finally learning—her father to pursue his happiness without guilt, and she to understand that sometimes love meant protecting those dear to you, even if it meant keeping certain truths to yourself... and it felt like Octavia could really move on from what she was... and now... find hope and happiness for herself.
"You did a wonderful thing, your Grace."
...
And speaking of Octavia's happiness.
The unexpected voice caused Octavia to turn sharply from the balcony. There, standing in the doorway of her chambers with perfect posture, was, of course, Olivia. The lady-in-waiting's presence was as understated as always.
"How much did you hear?" Octavia asked, though there was no accusation in her tone.
"Only the latter portion, Your Grace." Olivia replied, hands clasped formally in front of her as she maintained her stand near the doorway. "I assure you, anything I might have overheard will remain in strictest confidence."
Octavia studied her lady-in-waiting's face for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "You don't need to stand like you're on ceremony, Olivia. What brought you here?"
"Oh, I came to check some things for tomorrow, nothing too important. When I heard your voice, I didn't wish to interrupt what seemed to be a private moment." Olivia explained, her formal posture relaxing slightly. Then a gentle smile graced her beak. "But if you don't mind me asking... how is his Grace faring?"
"He's...He's doing well, actually. Better than I expected." Octavia moved from the balcony back into her room, settling onto the edge of her bed, with Olivia following her but not taking a seat, still standing in front of her. "Though I suspect there's still much he isn't telling me, just as there's much I'm not telling him."
"The burden of protection goes both ways, it seems." Olivia noted, stroking her pointy finger.
"No shit, Oli." A soft chuckle escaped Octavia's beak. Everything that happened today seemed to press down on her shoulders as she released a heavy sigh. "Feels like I'm a clown from Loo-Loo Land, trying to appease watchers with my performance."
"There is nothing wrong about wanting to make your father proud, Via. Your efforts to protect him are commendable." Olivia spoke with gentle understanding, though she showed genuine concern towards Octavia's well-being.
"Is it, though? I'm falling into the exact same patterns he did. Keeping secrets, withholding information, thinking I know what's best for everyone else." Octavia responded, anxiety creeping into her voice. She ran her fingers through her feathers, a gesture of mounting frustration. "And yet, what was I supposed to tell him? That everything's gone completely sideways since we arrived here?"
Octavia then stood abruptly, going for the rant.
"Should I tell him about Gaap's insufferable mind games? About how the I.R.A. nearly got us all killed? About this disaster we've stumbled into that is Ars Colonia entirely? Every single day brings some new bullshit. One moment we're dodging assassins on a train, the next we're trudging through Raider territory hoping not to get torn apart. Charlie's missing, Moxxie nearly died, and now we've got Barbatos's incompetency and an upcoming possible siege in the future! Wonderful, how fucking amazing!"
Her voice rose with each question as she began pacing the room. Her words tumbled out faster now, released like a dam breaking from the pressure.
"And let's not forget about our delightful shit named "Gaap," who treats this whole thing like some sort of theatrical performance where he's the star and we're all just props to him. Meanwhile, I'm trying to maintain some semblance of dignity and control while everything falls apart around us!"
Suddenly, Octavia stopped her pacing, turning to face Olivia with an expression of profound weariness.
"How did I end up here, Olivia? Why do I feel so... miserable sometimes?"
Even throughout the outburst, Olivia had maintained her elegant poise, listening with unwavering attention as her mistress finally released the frustrations she'd been holding back. Her presence offered silent support, a steady anchor in the storm of Octavia's emotion.
"Would you prefer coffee or tea, your Grace?" Olivia asked, her voice providing a gentle interruption to the tense atmosphere.
"Tea, please." Octavia responded, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to ease at the simple question. Somehow it worked. "That would be lovely."
"Not a fan of coffee?" Olivia chuckled while she went to her own room for the kettle.
"Never liked it...and knowing you, it would probably mean some innuendo."
"What innuendo?" Olivia amusingly asked, in the other room.
"Coffee is slang for "sex"... right?"
"I never knew it, actually. Thank you for adding to my vocabulary, my lady." Olivia teased as she returned with an ornate kettle.
"Eh, screw you and your jokes, Oli." Octavia smirked as she watched Olivia pour tea into a cup; the gentle sound of liquid being poured filled the comfortable silence between them. Steam rose from the delicate cup as she presented it to Octavia.
"You know..." Olivia began, her voice taking on a contemplative tone as she stood near Octavia as she enjoyed the tea. "I understand more than you might think about living in the shadows of your parent. I feel like that sometimes with my own dad..."
"You too, huh?" Octavia sympathized, finishing the tea and giving the empty cup to Olivia.
"Kind of? I mean, I love my brother and father dearly. I told you that before." Olivia continued, laying the cup on the table before returning back once more, this time taking a seat near Octavia on the bed. "But there are times when being the 'spare child' weighs heavily. The daughter who became a lady-in-waiting while her family holds significant power in Hell's hierarchy." Her hands clasped together in front of her, a rare gesture of vulnerability. "And now, with both Dad and Forcas here in Limbo... I find myself counting each minute, wondering if the next news I receive will be of their demise."
"And how do you cope with all of that?" Octavia asked softly.
"I try not to dwell on it. Helps me...to exist, I suppose." Olivia's lips curved into a subtle, sad but hopeful smile. Then her tone shifted, taking on a warmer, more intimate quality. Her eyes met Octavia's with unmistakable warmth, the formal distance of Lady-in-Waiting to Marquise momentarily giving way to something more personal, more tender. "Instead, I focus on more... pleasant aspects of my role as the lady to you. For instance, the company I keep has proven to be quite delightful from the very beginning."
A soft blush crept across Octavia's face feathers. From all the teasing and Olivia's remarks, this one felt like a new level to her. In fact, Octavia now felt it would be a great time to ask because... well, nobody bothered them. No, Gaap, No Ars Goetia... just them. And it felt...good if it made sense, even though her heart thundered against her ribcage for how much Octavia was scared to not fuck it up.
"Olivia, may I ask you something rather... personal?" Octavia's voice showed an uncertainty that was rare for the young Marquise.
"Of course, your grace," Olivia responded, maintaining her composed demeanor despite the awkward shift around them.
"From the day we met, you've been nothing short of extraordinary," Octavia began, her words measured and careful. "As time passed, I noticed how you became more... flirtatious, charming, and, at times, quite intimate in your interactions with me." She paused to gather her courage.
"Yes... and... what of it, my lady?" Olivia wanted to push her more because... she also felt awkward, not to mention how her own cheeks flushed from it.
"Well... do you really have feelings for me? Like, like, not just the sake for screwing around, I mean. Like... the real, genuine... affection... to me?"
Yeah, that came out rather...awkward. The question hung in the air between them as Olivia remained silent, her usual eloquence faltering in the face of such directness. The playful flirtations that came so easily to her seemed inadequate for this moment of truth.
"I...well...I—I." Olivia began, then collected herself, which was very unusual for overconfident Olivia. "D-Don't get me wrong; I am genuinely grateful that our paths crossed, Octavia. When my dad assigned me to service, he was adamant that I should only serve someone devoid of arrogance. It's why I previously served Lady Phenex. But with you, something was different. You brought joy to what I expected would be mere duty."
Olivia's hands clasped together as she stared at the floor, a rare display of nervousness from the typically composed lady-in-waiting. She sighed to herself, wanting to be honest with herself.
"I won't lie, my lady. My flirtations were simply part of my role. A lady-in-waiting must praise and compliment her mistress—it's expected, almost required even. But as time went on, I found myself looking forward to our conversations, cherishing our quiet moments together. Your occasional shyness became endearing rather than just another trait to compliment. Of course, I've questioned whether I should have toned down my manners...but now I find myself in quite a conflicted position."
"Conflicted?" Octavia shyly asked, also blushing at how much Olivia is...open to her.
"Yes, your majesty." Olivia turned back to face Octavia, her expression softening with concern. "Please understand, there is absolutely nothing improper about your feelings toward me. The fault, if any exists, lies entirely with me." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "However, there are certain... social problems we could face."
"Let me guess...court expectations?" Octavia knew where it went...typical Ars Goetia.
"Yes... and no, my lady." Olivia's hands clasped tighter together, her knuckles whitening slightly. "In Ars Goetia, a romantic relationship between a lady-in-waiting and her mistress is more than just forbidden—it's considered a disgrace. The nobility views such attachments as a corruption of proper etiquette of marriage between Houses. Eventually, I am expected to make an appropriate marriage alliance, as is the custom for someone of my role. It's a future I've long accepted as inevitable."
"You always can not go that direction, Oli." Octavia whispered, taking Olivia's hand in hers.
"I know...but again, I know how it will end. I'm hopeful I will find someone that will treat me like a queen...heh, no pun intended." Olivia slightly chuckled even from her tense stance as she felt warm from Octavia's fluffy hands. Though Octavia herself felt the subtle tremor from her. "But with you...with you, it will be much trouble for both of us. Neither of us could provide an heir, which for noble houses is paramount. It alone could destabilize everything."
"And if I don't want to have kids?" Octavia said somewhat sternly. "Who said that marriage in Ars Goetia is only for the sake of having kids?"
"I'm afraid it's part of our system, my lady. Someone must inherit your house no matter what if... something happens to you. Adoption could work, but let us not dwell on its own rabbit hole of paperwork." Olivia's voice grew softer, heavy with unspoken emotion. "Us being together... It would risk not just our own positions but potentially the stability of both our houses. The Goetia nobility would see it as a scandal at best and a direct challenge to their traditional order at worst."
"So this is how it feels to be on the other side of Dad's whole relationship drama, huh?" Octavia rose from her bed with a weary sigh. She moved toward the window, watching the eternal lights of Limbo flicker below. "To be honest, Olivia, I'm not even certain about my own feelings. I feel awkward, you know. But then again... I grew up in such isolation. No siblings, no real family dynamic except watching Mother constantly belittle Father, thinking somehow that was normal."
Octavia wrapped her arms around herself, displaying a level of vulnerability often seen from the young Marquise when she was a teenager. As painful as it is to admit, Olivia is the only person with whom Octavia can be completely honest, aside from Loona and Dad.
"My cellphone was often my only companion in all my teenage years...and do you know how pathetic that sounds? I felt worthless, like I had no real value to Hell or anyone in it. I searched desperately for some kind of purpose, but all I found was depression, anxiety, and more isolation." A bitter laugh escaped her beak as Octavia's fingers traced patterns on the cold window glass; every memory still lingered on. "I tried making friends, but most found me too boring, too weird, too... insufferable to deal with. Then there was this one noble guy. He was different. Kind. I felt something growing between us, something that gave me happiness. Until I discovered his dad had already promised to another noble family. That crushed me completely that I told him to fuck off...and I regret saying it for my own stupidity of burning the bridges...with Dad too. And before the trial on my parents occurred, I was in such a dark place that I... well, if Charlie hadn't intervened when she did, we wouldn't be having this conversation now... you and I would never have met."
Olivia remained silent for a moment, a gentle smile on her face as she contemplated Octavia's vulnerable confession. Now she knew why she liked Octavia...for she is really down to earth and easy to understand and sympathize with. But as someone said, and something that Olivia believed to be the motor of her existence...
A little wholesomeness never hurts.
Getting from the bed, Olivia walked up behind Octavia, delicately placing her hands on the young Marquise's hips in a comforting gesture.
"Oli, what are—" Octavia stopped herself when she felt two kisses were planted on her neck, making her shiver. It felt cold but...delightfully cold. A slight moan of satisfaction escaped...only followed by a groan of disappointment as Olivia stopped here...such a teaser.
"Only fools would reject your affection, Lady Octavia." Olivia murmured as she moved to face Octavia in front, maintaining their embrace. She guided Octavia's hands onto Olivia's hip while Olivia let her own hands wrap around Octavia's neck. An awkward silence ensued as Olivia stared at Octavia with a sultry grin...the very same eyes that screamed, 'I will rip your clothes off, kick you to bed, and will eat you out until you scream my name in pleasure!'...but that would be too vanilla and straightforward; hence Olivia will have to finish her own point.
"You know... I want you to know that I will remain by your side, whatever lies ahead."
"I would not trade that for anything, Oli." Octavia smiled back as their eyes met, conveying deeper meanings than words could express.
"Hmm, which is why there is...another way for us to maintain discretion while enjoying each other's company." Olivia continued, her voice taking on a subtle, suggestive tone as she stroked a little feather on Octavia's chest, very gently. "What happens in private chambers need not concern the court. We always can excuse ourselves and let us indulge each other...just in hush-hush with nothing but passion...and "exploration" of our bodies."
"Y-you...you seriously sugge-Oh..." Octavia breathed, caught between propriety and desire. This is what Phenex probably meant when she said her hormones will be unconformable at times. Can't really help it. The poor woman at this point felt such deep feelings for Olivia that the desires of intimacy were...suggestive and tempting. Before, she never thought about it and never was interested in it...but Olivia...Olivia did manage to dig herself deeper into Octavia's emotions: finding the real Octavia: a vulnerable woman who in reality craves affection and doesn't want to be alone...not that she will be alone anymore.
"You like this owl servant...aren't you, my lady?" Olivia again played with her, much bolder than before. Daring as she was at this very moment, Olivia then guided Octavia's hand from her hip to further up her body, making sure every part of Olivia's body was felt by Octavia's hand. But her teasing didn't stop here as Olivia guided her hand right into her left breast, stopping here. "And you like my breast too, hmm?"
"Oli..." Octavia whispered back, still rather shy about this.
"I know...you don't need to tell me how much I want us to ditch our clothes and just...make Asmodeus proud." Olivia let out a moan that sounded...so erotic and suggestive.
"Then... why don't you?"
"Because I respect your boundaries and your wishes in the end, my lady." Olivia grinned, her eyes sparkling with both mischief and affection as she would take Octavia's hands and hold them together. "But at least...may I make a bold request, your Grace? Nothing too bold, of course."
"Of course."
Olivia didn't waste her time as she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her beak...their proper first kiss. Octavia at first was shocked with such boldness but...melted in the kiss as Olivia's mouth was so chill yet relaxing to feel. So this is what her dad felt, really. Now Octavia understood why love conquers all...even if it sounds so cringe as fuck at times.
Their little kiss didn't last long as Olivia pulled her beak away first; no words were needed to describe how much they broke their barriers of trust today...even to the point of them being silly lovebirds, which would cause a controversy in Ars Goetia if someone saw them like that, not that they really cared about it.
"Seek out happiness no matter what in your life, my lady. All I ask is that you will give me your attention every now and then... perhaps we could explore the boundaries of our "servant to mistress" relationship that way... in private moments."
"And you're okay if I...found someone else?" Octavia again was surprised by how much Olivia is...open for it.
"As long as you will allow me to "tackle in'...you will enjoy what I can do in a threesome" situation, sweetie."
"Wow... you're... so naughty, Lady Olivia." Octavia's feathers flushed with color, but she couldn't help smiling at Olivia's boldness. Such a sweetheart, she really is. "But I'm...thankful for making me feel...happy and confident, Olivia. I'll think about your proposal...just not right now."
"Of course, patience makes everything sweeter in the end." Olivia responded with elegant poise, though her eyes held promises of future possibilities. "Some things are worth waiting for, wouldn't you agree, Your Grace?"
"Yeah... Dad loved that belief as well. Look where he is right now." Octavia had to admit, as Olivia stepped back with practiced grace, her professional demeanor returning, though her eyes retained their warmth. "And thanks really, Oli. It means a great deal to me."
"Of course, Via. It was a...lovely distraction." Olivia nodded as she then glanced at the ornate timepiece on the wall before continuing. "My duties for today have concluded, and we both should seek rest soon. Might I make an unconventional suggestion? Would you care to share in some comfortable companionship?" Her beak curved into a gentle smile.
"Are you making advances already, Lady Olivia?" Octavia asked, a shy chuckle accompanying her words.
"Nothing so forward, your Grace; I'm proposing something more therapeutic in nature." Olivia responded with a warm smile. Her smile softened with the memory. "I never told you, but when Forcas was an infant, I would often cuddle him to sleep. My feathers, as I've been told, are soft and warm enough to ease even the most restless mind into peaceful slumber. My little brother would fall asleep almost instantly, wrapped in the warmth of my feathers. And if I may be so bold, your Grace, you appear in need of similar comfort after today's emotional discussions. Tomorrow will bring its own challenges. You would benefit from proper rest."
Octavia considered Olivia's offer for a moment, exhaustion finally catching up with her after the day's emotional revelations. The young Marquise found herself yearning for the comfort being offered, a respite from the constant worries.
"I... I think I'd like that," Octavia admitted softly, giving way to vulnerable honesty. "You're right, I could use the rest from today."
Olivia's face brightened with a gentle smile as she guided Octavia toward the expansive bed. With such ease, she helped Octavia remove her boots, leaving her in more comfortable and suitable attire for rest. Her lady-in-waiting then arranged the pillows with careful attention before settling herself against the headboard.
"Come here, your majesty. It's cuddle time." Olivia opened her arms in invitation, her feathers appearing inviting in the room's gentle illumination.
Octavia hesitated only briefly before climbing onto the bed and allowing herself to be drawn into Olivia's embrace. The moment their feathers touched, she felt an immediate sense of warmth and security wash over her. Olivia's plumage was indeed as soft as she had described.
"You're not wrong. Your feathers are so soft," Octavia whispered, nuzzling closer as Olivia's arms encircled her. Olivia hummed contentedly, one hand gently stroking along Octavia's back in soothing motions.
"One of the benefits of being fluffy Goetia." She replied softly, her fingers carefully preening some of Octavia's displaced feathers back into order. "We're naturally suited to providing comfort to those we care about."
"True...very true." Octavia sighed, finally relaxing from the long day.
Time seemed to slow as they lay there together, the usual formality between them temporarily suspended in favor of this intimate moment of solace. Octavia found herself relaxing more with each passing minute, the gentle sensation of Olivia's preening and the warmth of their shared embrace slowly melting away the tension she'd been carrying.
"You know..." Octavia murmured drowsily, her head resting against Olivia's chest, "I never thought I'd find someone who would understand me like this. Someone who could be both proper and genuine...even if she can be horny."
"The art of being a lady-in-waiting is knowing when propriety should bow to necessity." Olivia's chest vibrated slightly with a soft chuckle, her fingers continuing their gentle ministrations through Octavia's feathers. "And right now, what you need isn't a servant, but a friend who cares."
"Seems like we're more than friends these days, Oli." Octavia muffled in Oli's feathers.
"And what do you think we are, Octavia?" Olivia suggested, mischievous.
"Lovers?"
"Daring, aren't we, my lady?" Olivia smirked, blushing a bit, as it got her thinking. "Hm, usually the term "friends with benefits" or "bed warmer", but I find it admirable how much you see me like this. You're such a sweetheart, my lady."
"You too, Olivia." Octavia nuzzled a bit before closing her eyes. "You too..."
Their feathers rustled softly as Octavia shifted closer, allowing herself to be completely enveloped in Olivia's embrace. The steady rhythm of Olivia's heartbeat beneath her ear created a soothing lullaby, and Octavia found her eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.
"Thank you, Oli," she whispered, her voice thick with approaching sleep. "For everything."
"Sleep well, my dear Via." Olivia responded softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Octavia's head. "Let tomorrow's worries wait for tomorrow."
As Octavia drifted off to sleep, Olivia maintained her gentle vigil, continuing to stroke and preen her mistress's feathers with tender care. In these quiet moments, away from the watchful eyes of the court and the burden of their positions, they could simply be two souls finding comfort in each other's presence. The boundaries between servant and mistress, between duty and desire, blurred into something sweeter and more meaningful—even if only for this one peaceful night.
Olivia remained awake, her mind churning beneath her calm exterior. The weight of the sleeping owl demon against her chest, which had once been comforting, now appeared to press against her conscience with unsettling intensity.
As she never forgot about Phenex's parting order.
Olivia gazed down at Octavia's peaceful face, illuminated by the eternal glow of Limbo's sky through the window. The young Marquise looked so vulnerable in sleep, free from the constant pressure of her position and family legacy. A familiar ache bloomed in Olivia's chest as she continued her gentle preening of Octavia's feathers, each stroke both a comfort and a reminder of her deception.
"The things we do for nobility..." Olivia whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. Her hand trembled slightly as she brushed a stray feather from Octavia's cheek. Everything she had confessed earlier about her feelings was true—perhaps that was what made this situation even more complex. Her affection for Octavia was genuine, growing stronger with each passing day, yet it was wrapped in layers of obligation and court intrigues.
The irony wasn't lost on her. Here she was, holding the daughter of Stolas, a demon whose own struggles had nearly destroyed his family. Now Olivia found herself walking a similarly precarious path, balancing between her genuine care for Octavia and her obligations to the Goetia hierarchy.
"One day." She promised silently, her fingers still moving soothingly through Octavia's feathers. "When all this is done, when the dust settles and the nobility finds something else to obsess over... then I'll tell you everything." Her voice caught slightly. "And perhaps then, you'll understand why I had to do this. Why I had to protect you, even if it meant keeping certain truths hidden."
Octavia stirred slightly in her sleep, pressing closer to Olivia's warmth. Without thinking, Olivia began to hum softly—an old lullaby she remembered from her own childhood, one about stars guiding lost souls of Hell back home. The melody carried with it memories of simpler times.
"You will be okay," Olivia whispered, echoing words that had once brought comfort to another troubled Goetia soul. She allowed herself a small, sad smile. "We both will be. After all, isn't that what family does? Protect each other, even when the methods aren't entirely pure?"
As the eternal night of Limbo continued its vigil outside, Olivia maintained her own watch over Octavia's sleep. Her role might be complex, her methods questionable, but her dedication to Octavia's well-being remained absolute. In time, she hoped, the truth would strengthen rather than break the bond they shared. Until then, she would continue to serve, to protect, and yes, to love. Olivia swore to herself that her deception would serve a higher purpose: keeping Octavia safe from the cutthroat politics that had nearly destroyed many families once before. Whether that justification would be enough when the truth finally emerged... only time would tell.
But for now.
Octavia will be okay...
Hell/The Pride Ring/Somewhere At The Edge Of Pride Ring/The Castle-Town of Phenexia
Just like Stolas will be...
Here in Pride Ring, as peaceful as it gets, Yeoman Stolas spent his time in the courtyard of Phenex's castle, away from others, his phone still warm in his hand from his conversation with Octavia. It was a nice little distraction while it lasted for him. Although Stolas preferred that Octavia didn't hide anything, he is very glad that she is doing fine.
"Oh, my little owlet..." He whispered to the stars above, using the childhood nickname that now seemed to belong to a simpler time. "You've already shown more wisdom in your young years than I managed in my life."
His daughter's voice had carried well-deserved weariness, yet beneath it lay a strength that made his chest swell with pride. She was handling her responsibilities in Limbo with remarkable grace, despite the circumstances that had thrust her into such a position.
And Stolas really meant that he is going to fix the mistakes he made as a prince. His daughter had already sacrificed too much for the sake of nobility. She shouldn't have to spend her reign constantly looking over her shoulder, watching for daggers aimed at her back simply because her father's choices had stirred up rivalries. Octavia deserved to rule on her own terms, not forever bothered by old grievances and feuds.
"Yeoman" A servant's measured voice interrupted his contemplation. "Lady Phenex awaits your presence in the Great Hall immediately. Follow me if you will."
"Very well." Stolas straightened his posture, adjusting his formal robes with ease.
The servant guided Stolas through the corridors of Phenexia's inner sanctum, their footsteps echoing. The journey through Phenexia's corridors reminded Stolas of countless diplomatic missions throughout his service to Hell's hierarchy. Yet none had been carried so personally as this one for him. Diplomacy was mundane, straightforward, and boring, but this one should bury everything. A new chapter of Stolas' life, away from Ars Goetia.
As they approached the grand dining hall, Stolas could hear a deep, agitated voice carried through the heavy doors—one particularly agitated tone standing out above the rest.
"NO, you're wrong! I demand to be present for these negotiations, Phenex!" The harsh voice of Marquis Andras reverberated through the chamber as Stolas entered quietly. "That fat bastard attempted to kill me, and you expect me to simply stand aside while you discuss terms of peace?!"
Elector-Marquise Phenex sat at the head of the long table, seemingly unperturbed by her stepbrother's outburst. She lifted her ornate teacup with practiced grace, taking a deliberate sip before responding.
"♪ Your grievances are noted, dear brother. Though I must say, such volume hardly befits our House, hmm, yes. ♪"
Marquis Andrephalus, positioned between them, maintained a respectful silence, though his expression suggested he'd been enduring his father's tantrums for some time. Andrephalus then suddenly straightened in his seat as he noticed Stolas, tugging at his father's elaborate robes with barely contained urgency. His gesture drew Andras's attention to Stolas' arrival, and the effect was immediate and explosive.
"You dare?" Andras's voice rose to a thunderous pitch as he rose from his chair, sending it scraping across the marble floor. "You invite this degenerate homo into our halls? This perverted embarrassment to our kind who spread his legs for some common imp?" His face contorted with disgust. "Have you forgotten how his... proclivities have made us the laughingstock of Hell's nobility?"
"♪ I see we're determined to demonstrate our lack of diplomatic acumen today, dear brother. Do remember where you stand within these walls, hmm, yes. ♪" Phenex set down her teacup with deliberate precision, the gentle clink somehow more commanding than Andras's shouting.
"Where do I stand?!" Andras's talons dug deeper into the table's surface. "I am the head of House Andras, and our union—"
"♪ And allow me to share from Phenexia's point of view, hmm, yes. The formation of House Andras-Phenexia was a political courtesy, brother dearest. One that, might I remind you, saved your house from financial ruin after your... numerous military campaigns in Proto-Wrath for Ars Belial to notice you. ♪" Phenex cut him off smoothly, her eyes narrowed slightly. "♪ It does not, however, entitle you to dictate terms in my court. ♪"
Andrephalus shrank in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the mounting tension between his father and aunt. Phenex's gaze softened momentarily as she regarded her nephew before hardening again as she addressed her brother.
"♪ If you truly desire vengeance and closure, then I suggest you contain your impulses and allow Prince Stolas and myself to handle these negotiations properly without you. Hmm, yes, I assure you, all parties will find satisfaction in the resolution... provided you don't sabotage it with your characteristic lack of restraint. ♪"
Andras opened his mouth to protest, but Phenex raised a single feathered hand to silence him.
"♪ And perhaps, dear brother, instead of concerning yourself with Stolas's personal affairs, you might direct your attention to your son's recent... indiscretions? ♪" Her beak curved into a slight smile. "♪ After all, I've grown rather tired of covering the court fines for Andrephalus' little scheme he pulled in the trial. My generosity, much like my patience, has limits. ♪"
The implied threat hung in the air like smoke, causing Andrephalus to sink even lower in his chair and avoid Andras' stare. Andras' face flushed with rage and embarrassment. But Phenex's words had struck a chord; the mention of financial dependency was enough to quell his outburst, if not his anger. Andras's shoulders tensed visibly as he fought against his own violent impulses. After several moments of internal struggle, he released a sharp exhale through clenched teeth.
"Very well, sister. Handle it as you see fit." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "But mark my words: if that bloated wastrel draws breath by day's end, I will personally lead my legions to his doorstep. Goetia be damned until I see his head mounted in my trophy room!!"
"♪ Your dedication to vengeance is noted, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex replied with practiced disinterest, examining her teacup. "♪ Do remember your quarterly taxes are due next week. The Treasury expects prompt payment from all Marquises, regardless of family connections. ♪ "
The reminder of his financial obligations seemed to further deflate Andras's remaining bravado. With a somewhat low grumble, Andras, without another word, turned sharply on his heel, his robes swirling around him as he strode toward the exit. Andrephalus rose to follow in complete silence, but not before pausing to direct a final barb at Stolas.
"Seems your imp won't be here to warm your bed tonight, little commoner of deviancy." Andrephalus sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
"My dear Elsa wannabe, a simple chair to your face would vastly fix your crooked beak. Should I do that again?" Stolas's four eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to reveal disdain to his long rival.
"♪ And need I remind you that Stolas is under my own personal protection while within these walls, Andre? ♪" Phenex's voice cut through the tension like a blade as she turned to face them both. "♪ I would hate to see this deteriorate into something unfortunate and with me to...melt something. ♪"
Scowling at his aunt's persistence, Andre nevertheless won't leave with the final laugh.
"Watch your back with the guest, Stolas. Would be unfortunate to lose your fat dumpy today." Andrephalus' beak twisted into a final snarl.
"Perhaps you should direct your own fat ass to your mounting court fines instead, moron." Stolas replied smoothly, ironically using the same method that Stella sometimes did. "And do give my regards to your rotting sister in the cell."
The young noble's face flushed with rage, but a sharp look from Phenex prevented any further exchange. With a final murderous glare, Andrephalus stormed out after his father, the heavy doors closing behind them with an echoing thud. The tension in the chamber dissipated with the departure of Andras and his son, though the echo of their threats still seemed to linger in the air. Phenex then rose from her seat with fluid grace as she moved to a sideboard containing various decanters.
"♪ Well, that went rather smoothly, wouldn't you say? ♪" She selected a crystal bottle containing an iridescent liquid. "♪ My brother's tantrums have become quite predictable over the centuries, hmm yes. ♪"
"Yes...quite a family you have, Phenex." Stolas released a weary sigh, his posture relaxing slightly now that they were alone. "Still, my ex-father-in-law does have a point. Are you still sure about this, Phenex? The risks are considerable, even for someone of your... political prowess."
A melodious chuckle escaped Phenex as she poured two glasses of the shimmering spirit, finding it cute how he used 'prowess' to note her skills.
"♪ My darling, you really must learn to place more trust in my methods at this point. ♪" She glided back to the table, offering him one of the glasses. "♪ Think of the benefits for young Octavia. Once this is concluded, her position will be unassailable, hmm yes. ♪"
"And if my father discovers our machinations?" Stolas accepted the offered drink but didn't raise it to his beak. "He may be preoccupied with the succession ritual, but his reach remains extensive."
"♪ Lord Paimon is far too entangled in his own web of problems to concern himself with our affairs, hmm yes. I've ensured he has sufficient motivation to look the other way. ♪" Phenex pronounced the name with elegant dismissal, her beak curved into a subtle smile. She then took a deliberate sip of her drink before continuing. "♪ Besides, the Kingdom of Ars Goetia will soon pass to more capable hands. My hands, to be precise, hmm yes. Paimon knows better than to raise any objections to my methods at this delicate stage. ♪"
"Even if he will become Ars?"
"♪ Even if he will become Ars. ♪" Phenex chuckled, finding it ironic. "♪ How impressive that Belial's old powerful title turned into the title of a puppet. Strange days we exist in, hmm yes. ♪"
"You've arranged everything rather meticulously, haven't you?" Stolas studied her carefully over the rim of his untouched glass.
"♪ Naturally. It's what I do best, darling. ♪" Phenex's eyes glittered with amused satisfaction. "♪ As I love to say: by the time anyone realizes the full scope of today's negotiations, it will be far too late to prevent what's coming. ♪"
"And how genuine are you in all this, Phenex?" Stolas's question cut through the momentary silence. "Truly?"
"♪ What? Still harboring doubts? Oh, how you wound me, dear Stolas. ♪" Phenex turned to face him fully, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"I'm pursuing this course for Octavia's sake alone." Stolas stated firmly, setting his untouched glass aside. "Not for you, not for myself. My daughter's future is the only consideration that matters."
"♪ Love makes us do extreme things, doesn't it? ♪" The playful glint in Phenex's eyes faded, replaced by an uncharacteristic solemnity. She moved to the window, her reflection overlaying the eternal flames of Hell's landscape beyond. "♪ I understand that motivation better than you might think, hmm, yes. ♪"
"Are you, though?"
"♪ Of course. Everything that I will say otherwise will be just a weak attempt to lie, hmm yes. I never had a child, Stolas. And Octavia... she's the closest I'll ever come to having a daughter of my own. ♪" Phenex's voice softened slightly. She turned back to face Stolas, her usual mask of aristocratic amusement temporarily set aside. "♪ When I look at Octavia, I think of her. And some of us...♪" She paused, her gaze growing distant. "♪ Some of us made promises to the Queen of Eternal Night, long ago. Promises I intend to keep. ♪"
Stolas noticed something flash across Phenex's face—a flicker of what might have been guilt, or perhaps grief. Before he could proceed with more questions about what promise she made...only for a servant to appear at the chamber entrance.
"Your Highness." An imp servant announced with a deep bow. "Your expected guest will arrive in a few minutes."
"♪ Thank you, Borus. You may rest now. ♪" Phenex dismissed as she then went closer to Stolas, bringing her hand to his chest. "♪ Just to finish my own thoughts, Stolas. At the end of the day, Octavia's fortunate, you know. To have a father who would move Hell itself for her sake. ♪"
"Maybe...I don't know." Stolas sighed, somewhat doubting if Octavia really fully deserved him. Nevertheless, he would gently take Phenex's hand away from his chest, wanting to be straight with her. "Once this is concluded—once Octavia's future is secured. I want you to know that—
"♪ I expected as much, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex interrupted him as her usual composed smile returned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She gestured elegantly with one hand. "♪ No hard feelings, naturally. It's simply...♪"
"Ars Goetia politics, I know." Stolas finished for her, his tone carrying equal measures of resignation.
"♪ Indeed, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex moved to take her position at the head of the table as footsteps approached from the corridor. "♪ Shall we begin? ♪"
The chamber doors swung wide as guards bearing the distinctive sigil of House Paimon marched in with military formation, taking their positions beside each ornate column, their presence transforming the dining chamber into something more akin to a martial court. Their weapons remained sheathed, yet their stance conveyed clear readiness—a subtle reminder of House Paimon's might.
An imp servant, dressed in the formal livery of House Paimon, stepped forward and cleared his throat with practiced importance.
"His Majesty, Duke Zepar of House Paimon, Eldest Scion of the Great King Paimon, Father to Prince Gaap, Heir Apparent to the Throne of House Paimon, Commander of the 26th Legion, Master of the Celestial Archives, Bearer of the Crimson Seal, and Keeper of the Twenty-Sixth Sacred Flames, has arrived."
The figure that entered hardly matched the grandeur of his announced titles. Duke Zepar's substantial form filled the doorway, his excessive girth barely contained by elaborate robes that had clearly been tailored to accommodate his size. Despite his corpulent appearance, he carried himself with the unmistakable air of someone who viewed their very existence as a gift to those around them. His multiple eyes surveyed the chamber with obvious disapproval, his beak turning down slightly at what he apparently considered insufficient grandeur for his presence.
Upon spotting Phenex, Zepar's demeanor shifted to one of exaggerated courtesy. He approached her with surprising grace for someone of his size, his robes rustling against the marble floor.
"Ah, most radiant Elector-Marquise Phenex, Matriarch of House Phenexia, Lady of Rebirth, Commander of the 20th Legion, Mistress of Fire, and Illustrious Elector of Ars Goetian Marquisate. Your beauty continues to outshine even the eternal flames of our realm. The color of your feathers puts mere gold to shame." He proclaimed, his voice showing the smoothness of a career courtier. He then executed a formal bow—somewhat hindered by his girth—and took Phenex's offered hand. He pressed his beak to her hand in the traditional gesture of respect toward a female Elector, though he lingered perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary. "My dear lady, your hospitality honors House Paimon."
"♪ Charmed, Duke Zepar. Really... ♪" Phenex remained the painting of noble bearing, though something flickered behind her eyes that suggested she found his theatrical display tedious. She gestured toward the prepared place at the table. "♪ Please, join me for dinner. We have much to discuss, hmm yes. ♪"
Zepar straightened, his multiple eyes briefly meeting Stolas's gaze with barely concealed contempt before he lowered his substantial form into a reinforced chair that creaked quietly under his weight. The guards remained motionless at their posts, their presence ensuring that this dinner would be anything but casual. Zepar adjusted himself in his chair, the fine wooden frame protesting beneath his weight as he surveyed the assembled company.
"I must say, dear Phenex, I find myself rather surprised by your choice of dinner companions." His eyes lingered on Stolas with poorly concealed disdain. "Surely there were more... suitable options available."
"You might at least acknowledge me properly as our father's son, Zepar," Stolas responded, not forgetting his noble education, although he was not a prince anymore; him having the blood of Paimon at least somewhat strengthens his stance. "We share the same blood, after all."
A dismissive laugh escaped Zepar's beak as he reached for a crystal goblet.
"Share blood? Oh, I think not. I refuse to acknowledge failure in front of me." He paused to examine the vintage in his glass. "Father may have sired you, but that hardly makes you worthy of the Paimon's name."
Before Stolas could respond, servants began presenting the first course, an elaborate array of Hell's finest delicacies. Zepar's attention immediately shifted to the food, his multiple eyes widening with obvious hunger.
"My dear Phenex, you shouldn't have gone to such trouble!" He selected a particularly succulent morsel to start with. "Though I must say, it warms my heart to see a woman who understands how to properly please a man."
"♪ Your appreciation of my selections honors me, Your Grace. ♪" Phenex replied with perfect courtly grace, though her tone carried a subtle edge that went unnoticed by Zepar, who had already begun consuming his meal with considerable enthusiasm.
Even better, as Zepar occupied himself with the feast before him, Phenex caught Stolas's eye across the table. Very subtly, she tapped one elegant finger against the right side of her head—a gesture clear in its meaning: their dinner guest was, without question, a complete imbecile and an example of a failed specimen of a man. Even Gaap looked far more attractive than his dad... no matter how creepy it comes from a Phenex, who is... can be considered an MILF by Lust Ring's standards.
The message wasn't lost on Stolas, who maintained his neutral look no matter what. Whatever their personal differences, at least they shared an appreciation for the sheer magnitude of Zepar's foolishness.
Having consumed a considerable portion of the first course, Zepar dabbed at his beak with an ornate napkin before turning his attention to Phenex. "Tell me, my dear Marquise, how fares the House of Andras-Phenexia? I trust everything is... beneficial?"
"♪ Hmm, yes, affairs proceed as one might expect. ♪" Phenex took a deliberate sip from her glass. She set her glass down before she straightened in her chair, adopting the posture of an earnest supporter. "♪ Though I must say, such mundane matters pale in comparison to the momentous changes approaching our realm. The Golden Age of Ars Goetia draws near with King Paimon's imminent ascension. His wisdom shall surely usher in an era of unprecedented prosperity. ♪"
Zepar's chest swelled with pride, causing his elaborate robes to strain slightly at their seams.
"Indeed, Father shall become the greatest Ars since Belial himself. The other houses will soon remember their proper place in Hell's hierarchy." He reached for another delicacy. "And speaking of proper succession, my own Gaap stands ready to assume the title of Elector-Prince once Vassago takes the title of King."
"♪ Ah, the young Prince Gaap. ♪" Phenex responded, her voice perfectly modulated fake enthusiasm. "♪ You must be exceedingly proud. His recent... demonstrations of capability suggest a most promising reign ahead. The skills he has exhibited already speak volumes of his potential. Let us toast in his glory, Duke Zepar! ♪" She raised her glass in a subtle toast, though her eyes remained calculatingly sharp.
Stolas observed this exchange in silence, noting how Phenex's careful praise contained not a single specific detail about Gaap's actual achievements—of which there were notably few, other than trying to bribe the Elector Morax. The art of courtly deception, it seemed, remained alive and well in Hell's nobility.
"Oh, I drink to that!" Zepar raised his glass to meet Phenex's in a resounding clink before draining its contents in one theatrical motion. He set the empty vessel down with a flourish, savoring the warmth of the expensive spirits as they spread through his substantial frame. "Now then, shall we discuss the actual purpose of this little gathering?"
"YES, LET US THEN!"
Before Phenex could respond, the chamber doors burst open with explosive force. Marqus Andras stormed in, bristling with barely contained rage. One of the Paimon guards moved to intercept him, spear raised in warning. Without breaking stride, Andras unleashed a blast of magical energy that sent the guard flying into a nearby column.
"Stand aside, you worthless pawns!" Andras snarled, his voice dripping with centuries of accumulated hatred. "I've waited too long for this moment!"
"What is this senile fool doing here? Have you completely lost control of your marquisate, Phenex?" Zepar's multiple eyes narrowed as he pushed himself up from his chair, his substantial frame tensing despite his earlier indulgence.
"♪ Andras...♪" Phenex's voice carried a dangerous edge. "♪ Explain yourself. Now. ♪"
"I lied, dear sister. Did you really think I'd trust you to handle this properly?" Andras leaned toward his sister, his beak twisted in a savage grin. He then turned his attention to Zepar, advancing with predatory intent. "And now I'm going to enjoy this, you bloated waste of feathers! I'll pluck every feather from your corpse and add them to my collection!"
"Andras!" Phenex rose from her seat. "If you have to be like that, then FINE, you can stay! But you will stand down immediately, or I will have no choice but to declare you a Notoria. The choice is yours!"
The chamber fell into tense silence as Andras visibly struggled with his rage. His eyes remained locked on Zepar, burning with murderous intent. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly lowered himself into a chair beside Phenex, though his posture remained coiled like a spring ready to release.
"This isn't over..." He growled at Zepar, his talons leaving deep scratches in the table's surface. "Not by a mile!"
Stolas observed the exchange, noting how Phenex's composed exterior barely concealed her own tension. The carefully orchestrated dinner had just become considerably more complicated, and judging by how Zepar had begun to shake, the real confrontation was only beginning.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Zepar's voice thundered through the chamber, his multiple eyes darting between the assembled nobles with growing fury. He heaved his substantial form from his chair, causing it to scrape against the marble floor. "Why is the father of that "breeder" present here?"
"YOU DARE, YOU—" Andras's feathers bristled at the insult to his daughter, his beak opening to unleash what would undoubtedly be a torrent of rage, but Phenex's sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade once more, controlling the rocking boat that is this dinner.
"Silence! You will hold your tongue." She turned to him with a warning glare that could melt steel. Then a weary sigh escaped Phenex's beak as she rose from her seat with fluid grace. She moved to stand before the great windows, her reflection overlaying the fiery landscape beyond. "♪ My apologies, Duke Zepar. It's just I find it how fascinating it is...we so often bring our enemies together. ♪"
"Spare me your philosophical nonsense, Phenex! I demand you speak plainly—what game are you playing?" Zepar's multiple eyes narrowed dangerously as he slammed his fist against the ornate table, sending crystal glasses trembling.
"♪ Very well, your Grace. You wish for directness? Then allow me to indulge you, hmm, yes. ♪" Phenex turned from the window, her usual mask of aristocratic amusement replaced by an expression of coldness. She glided back to the table, placing her hands upon its polished surface as she leaned forward slightly to Zepar, though his eyes glanced at Phenex's cleavage for a few seconds before back at her eyes.
"♪ We are gathered here because of your son's rather... ambitious attempt to turn the trial against Stella and Stolas into a death sentence. ♪" Her eyes locked onto Zepar's with predatory intensity. "An execution that would have left young Octavia an orphan. Quite the creative interpretation of justice, wouldn't you agree?"
"How dare you make such accusations! My Gaap would never—" The color drained from Zepar's face, puffing up in a defensive display.
"Spare us your theatrical outrage, Zepar!" Stolas cut in, not wanting to remain silent anymore. For Phenex's part, it seems she allows him to speak on his behalf. "We both know Gaap didn't act alone in this endeavor. Your son may be ambitious, but he lacks the skills to orchestrate such a scheme independently."
"Bold claim, Stolas." Zepar grunted, avoiding Phenex's intense stare.
"It is a bold claim, Zepar. But I'm not a stupid one. What was your grand plan, dear half-brother? Remove your embarrassing "half-brother," as you say, and his mad bitch of a wife through legal execution, thereby eliminating any claim to Octavia's inheritance. How convenient it would have been for House Paimon to step in as her 'protective' guardians."
"♪ And speaking of failed schemes. ♪" Phenex interjected as she gestured toward Andras. "Your son made quite the miscalculation in his approach to House Andras. Care to elaborate, brother dear?"
Andras bristled with renewed anger as he leaned forward, his talons leaving fresh marks in the table's surface. "Your pompous offspring actually believed I would trade my claim on Octavia for some vague promise that 'Paimon will reward House Andras handsomely.'" He spat the words like venom. "Bah, as if I would sell my granddaughter's future for your empty promises!"
"♪ Still, you kind of did sell your claim with Princess Hell. ♪" Phenex smirked.
"Shut up, Phenex!" Andras waved her off, not wanting to argue.
Zepar's multiple eyes darted between the assembled nobles, his earlier confidence evaporating like morning mist in Hell's flames. He then drew himself up to his full height. His initial fear transformed into indignation as he surveyed the assembled nobles with growing contempt.
"I see where this is going! You dare threaten a Duke of the Ars Goetia? Two lowly Marquises and a disgraced Yeoman presume to stand against House Paimon?" A cruel smile spread across his beak. "You've forgotten your place in Hell's hierarchy! GUARDS!"
The Paimon guards shifted their stance, weapons at the ready. Phenex's own guards moved to respond, the tension in the chamber reaching a dangerous crescendo. However, it quickly dissipated as Phenex raised her hand, the gesture stopping her guards mid-motion. Stolas and Andras exchanged bewildered glances, their own combative postures faltering at Phenex's unexpected pacifism.
"♪ Your Grace...♪" Phenex continued, addressing Zepar with practiced diplomacy. "♪ Surely you must understand that your actions—and those of young Prince Gaap—have created considerable discord? Quite unfortunate, really. ♪" She gestured elegantly to them. "♪ However, I see no reason why we cannot reach an arrangement beneficial to all parties. ♪"
On cue, a servant entered bearing an ornate chest. The lock clicked open, revealing stacks of pure gold coins. The wealth displayed would have been enough to fund a small army. Zepar's multiple eyes fixed on the gleaming metal, his earlier bluster temporarily forgotten. But he is not stupid...there is always a catch.
"And what exactly do you want in exchange for such... generosity?"
"The truth." Stolas stepped forward, his voice sharp with barely contained fury. "Why did you want Stella and me dead? Was this Father's doing? Did Paimon himself order our execution?"
Andras hummed aggressively as the chamber fell silent as all eyes turned to Zepar. A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped from Duke's beak, the sound devoid of any genuine mirth. He regarded Stolas with pity and contempt, his multiple eyes narrowing with amusement.
"Oh, my dear brother, how delightfully blind you remain to the greater machinations of Ars Goetia." Zepar's voice dripped with condescension. "Our father is far too preoccupied with claiming his rightful title of Ars to concern himself with the petty squabbles of your failed marriage." He waved a dismissive hand through the air. "He barely remembers to attend his own council meetings these days, let alone orchestrate your demise. No doubt he doesn't even remember our names today..."
"Then it was you all along!" Stolas's voice showed the deadly calm of someone discovering the full scope of a betrayal. His four eyes blazed with intensity as he advanced toward his half-sibling. "You absolute bastard. You were willing to make my daughter an orphan for your own ambitions!"
Zepar straightened his substantial form, meeting Stolas's fury with aristocratic indifference.
"Everything I have done has been for the betterment of House Paimon—though perhaps I should say House Zepar, as your father will soon renounce his house name upon ascending to Ars." His beak curved into a self-satisfied smile. "Octavia is legally a grandchild of Paimon. Her place has always been with us, with those who truly understand the noble responsibility."
"Her place? HER PLACE!?!" Stolas's voice cracked with barely contained rage, his power manifested in response to his emotions. "Did you ever once consider asking Octavia what she wanted!? Or were you too busy plotting the murder of her parents to concern yourself with such trivial matters as her wishes?!"
"A heartless monster? I prefer to think of myself as pragmatic. The girl would have been raised with proper guidance, away from the influence of a father who couldn't even maintain the dignity of a prince." Zepar scoffed, adjusting his elaborate robes. His eyes then narrowed. "Better an orphan with proper noble bearing than the heir to your particular brand of scandal."
"YOU—"
There is something that can be said when Stolas, who is known to be calm and collected, fully embraces his rage upon hearing this. Not that everyone blames him, even Andras, who actually wanted to see more of Stolas' other side and how wrathful he can be. But Phenex instead preferred a more cautious approach.
"♪ Calm yourself, Stolas. ♪" Phenex interjected as she raised a placating hand. Her voice still calm of someone about to spring a carefully laid trap. "♪ While I understand your grace's perspective on power and legacy, I must point out how terribly hollow it all sounds. After all, in Hell there is only one true motivator, hmm, yes? One currency that speaks louder than all our noble pretenses. ♪" Her beak curved into a knowing smile. "♪ Souls, hmm yes. ♪"
"To filter my sister's bullshit out." Andras's voice cut through them, his talons digging deeper into the table's surface. "Who paid you, you fat fuck?!"
The silence that followed was deafening. Zepar's earlier confidence evaporated as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his multiple eyes darting between the assembled nobles.
"Perhaps..." Zepar finally spoke, persistent. "Another chest of gold might help refresh my memory regarding certain... arrangements."
"♪ Bring it. ♪" Phenex commanded without hesitation to the nearest a servant. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the chamber as her order was carried out. But in the meantime, Phenex pushed for the next step. "♪ Now then, Your Grace. I believe you were about to share some rather interesting details about your financial benefactors, hmm, yes? ♪"
Zepar released a weary sigh, his substantial frame seeming to deflate as the last vestiges of his resistance crumbled. His multiple eyes focused on some distant point beyond the chamber walls, as if his confession had finally become too heavy to bear.
"The truth, then..." He began, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "Several weeks ago, I received a letter. Inside was a contract promising an astronomical sum of souls—more wealth than most nobles see in a millennium." He paused, adjusting his elaborate robes with unsteady hands. "The request was specific: disrupt the trial and ensure both Stolas and Stella met their end."
"...What?" Stolas repeated himself, more confused than angry. How deep did this conspiracy go?
"Yes... I know." Zepar's gaze dropped to the table, unable to meet the eyes of those assembled. "Once you and Stella were eliminated. Octavia would..." He hesitated, as if recognizing the full horror of his actions for the first time. "The grief would drive her to take her own life. Her blood, along with Stolas', was to be harvested for what they called 'The Great Ritual.' Something about their direct lineage to the Archangel Stolasel makes them... necessary."
"Y-you...you contemptible piece of filth!" Stolas's voice erupted with volcanic fury, his four eyes blazing with otherworldly power. "Moments ago, you preached about Octavia's place in House Paimon, about proper noble guidance, and now you freely admit to plotting her death? For what—souls and a vague promise of some cryptic ritual!?"
"♪ Stolas, patience. ♪" Phenex interjected, she herself not liking anything at all. She turned back to Zepar. "♪ The sender of this letter, Your Grace. A name, if you please. ♪"
"The letter bore only a single mark—the letter 'A.' Nothing more." Zepar spread his hands in a gesture of helpless ignorance. "The promise of a guaranteed position in 'The Day of Return' was too tempting to ignore. I never questioned the source."
"Another conspiracy in the Ars Goetia. How utterly predictable this has become." Andras released a low, rumbling growl of frustration, his talons leaving fresh marks in the ornate table.
"♪ Come now, brother dear. ♪" Phenex turned to him with elegant amusement. "♪ Surely you can't be surprised by such machinations at this point in our long existence. ♪"
"Ars Belial would have burned the entire city if such things occurred." Andras grumbled, again being nostalgic for the era long gone.
"♪ That he would, hmm yes... ♪" Phenex somewhat agreed. She then addressed Zepar, still rather diplomatic about it. "Your Grace, while the revelations you've shared are... disturbing, I must thank you for your honesty." Her words drew a sharp, incredulous hiss from Stolas, which she smoothly ignored. "However, the damage inflicted upon our houses has been considerable. From the rather public dissolution of Stella and Stolas's marriage to this latest conspiracy. Which is precisely why I believe today must mark an end to this conflict. A peace treaty, if you will. A formal agreement to put aside these grievances and move forward in a manner befitting for Ars Goetia. ♪"
"Peace?" Stolas's voice shone with the chill of the void itself. He rose from his chair. "You expect me to make peace with the creature who not only plotted my murder but intended to drive my daughter to suicide? Have you taken complete leave of your senses, Phenex?!"
A deep, rumbling laugh escaped Zepar's beak, the sound echoing through the chamber with sardonic amusement.
"Your righteous indignation would be more convincing, dear brother, if it weren't so obviously rooted in your wounded pride. You're still seething over how Andrephalus and I orchestrated your fall from princely status not once, but twice. Don't bother denying it."
Stolas opened his beak to object, but Zepar raised a hand to make him shut up for now.
"No, you will listen now, pleb! You're not so different from the rest of us, Stolas. Your machinations are simply wrapped in a thinner veneer of morality." He reached for his goblet, taking a deliberate sip before continuing. "I know exactly why you support Octavia's independence so fervently. It's quite clever, really. With her as an independent ruler, she could simply adopt you into her house. And who wouldn't expect a devoted father to have significant influence over his daughter's decisions?" A knowing smile spread across his beak. "It's the kind of Stolas I can actually respect."
"I'm not that petty..." Stolas warned.
"Yes, fucking you're!" Zepar returned back, not scared of him. "You're a climate change denier, an imp fetishist, a little shit, a hypocrite nonetheless. The difference is you're too weak to do more. How you handled that bitch shows you're a pathetic manling. You treat your woman the same way you treat a wretched hellhound: you slap her and break her spine if she bites your leg!"
"I know a lot of female Goetias who will provide a counterargument to you, Zepar. Show them some respect!" Marquis Andras, surpassingly, defended Phenex's gender... and that comes from a homophobe.
Out of all, Phenex might have been...took the hardest, although she had not shown it. The only sigh she was shown was a death stare of murderous intent on the behalf of the entire female population of Ars Goetia... ALL OF THEM.
"I forgot how you and Focalor are, in Gaap's own words, simps and bow to a woman... pathetic!" Zepar grumbled.
"I only show respect to the Goetias who are not afraid to challenge and fight for their own goals. You're on the other hand a sexist piece of shit."
"But you're a homophobe, your majesty." Stolas had to point out, not liking double standards.
"Homophobe? HOMOPHOBE!?" Andras raised his tone, baffled and maybe even hurt by it. "You think I don't know who Andre really is?! That spineless twink of my son didn't give me grandkids yet, and he is busy trying to play "I'm straight" by pretending he has an incestuous relationship with my daughter!"
"Then how come you berated me for sleeping with an imp?"
"Because you're a submissive one!" Andras slammed his fist on the table, so stern that it made even Stolas confused as fuck. "Homosexuality" is a disgraceful word because you're being submissive and taking it all in! You should be ashamed of yourself! If you had dominated your imp, then, Belial willing, I would not have had any problems with you, son-in-law!"
"Wait, wait, hold on!" Stolas had to point out the flaws of Andras' logic, much to Phenex's annoyance. "Your majesty. Being "gay" means you're in a relationship with a man."
"No! There is no such thing as 'straight or homo.'. You either make love to a man or woman, or you don't! You NEVER spread yourself!" Andras countered.
"♪ Don't bother, Stolas. ♪" Phenex sighed, wanting to steer the conversation into a productive one. "♪ Andras was summoned a lot of times in Ancient Greek like I did... take a guess why he has... these beliefs. ♪"
Stolas had to blink a few times to process, staring at his father-in-law in confusion. Andras again remained confident and stern as always.
"So... would you fuck a cock Goetia if you could, your majesty?" Stolas had to ask that, making Phenex facepalm.
"Of course I would fuck a cock if I wasn't married, you dumbass!" Andras again hissed, getting tired of the stupidity of Paimon's boy. "Out of all, Focalor would be one. I trust him more than anyone else."
"Okay, this is getting off track!" Zepar had to intervene, for he grew tired of this dinner bullshit. He set his glass down, his voice taking on a more diplomatic tone. "Fine, I understand why I'm here. You want to make peace with the House of Paimon."
"♪ More or less, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex decided to be just straightforward this time, tired of opera games at this point.
"Well, in that case, I'm willing to repair the bridges. Under one condition, of course." Zepark smirked, proud of himself for some reason.
"Which is?" Stolas didn't like it at all.
"Octavia..." Zepar noted, before providing a full explanation. "Octavia's independence poses certain... complications for the future House of Zepar. Having her with blood of Paimon would complicate the claimship later down the line. However, I'm willing to offer you a path for redemption in exchange. You can return to House Paimon, Stolas. Reclaim your title as Prince. After all, family should stand united in these trying times, shouldn't they?"
"What's the catch?" Stolas's eyes narrowed with suspicion, noble cynicism evident. "In the Ars Goetia, no favor comes without expectation of return."
"Correct." Andras slowly nodded a few times when he stood on Stolas' side.
Zepar straightened in his chair, his substantial form commanding attention as he delivered his terms. "My conditions are simple: Prince Gaap and Marquise Octavia shall be joined in matrimony, thereby restoring her rightful place within our bloodline."
"Through their marriage"
"Marriage"
"Marriage"
"Marriage"
🅼🅰🆁🆁🅸🅰🅶🅴
"MARRIAGE"
Ｍａｒｒｉａｇｅ
...
Stolas wasn't the greatest stargazer in all of Goetia history... but something felt like an entire galaxy just exploded in his own mind right now. He stood motionless, his four eyes wide with dawning horror as the full implications of the proposal washed over him. The cruel symmetry of history threatening to repeat itself was not lost on him—first Stella and himself, now his own daughter and Gaap. His mind cycled through the stages of processing this information multiple times, each revolution bringing fresh waves of revulsion and disbelief.
"You can't be serious..." Stolas's voice emerged barely above a whisper, heavy with incredulity, not to mention his left eye twitch and him trying to not just...collapse on the floor and literally just die. "A marriage between two individuals who harbor nothing but hatred for each other?"
"Their personal feelings toward one another are inconsequential. The heir they produce is what matters." Zepar waved his hand dismissively, his multiple eyes reflecting indifference.
"Here we go fucking again," Andras snarled, his talons gouging deeper marks into the table's surface. "The same tired gambit—promise prosperity through marriage, just as you did with my Stella and this boy. And we all witnessed how splendidly that arrangement turned out."
Phenex's left eye twitched noticeably, though her diplomatic smile remained fixed in place in full silence. The metallic sheen of her feathers seemed to dim slightly as the weight of Zepar's proposal settled over the chamber.
Lost completely, the words struck Stolas like a physical blow. He collapsed into his chair, revelation pressing down upon him with crushing force. Though he hadn't been present when Paimon and Andras signed the contract that sealed his own fate with Stella, the moment crystallized with perfect clarity in his mind. History had drawn them into a perfect circle, with Stolas now standing where his father once stood, Zepar taking Andras's place in this cruel, ironic repetition.
And worst: Octavia and Gaap were half cousins...
Even if ignoring that, Stolas' mind conjured unbidden images of Octavia's future—his daughter trapped in the same cage of misery that had once held him. He could see it all with horrifying clarity: Octavia, her spirit dimming day by day, bearing a child who would grow to resent her just as she had once resented him. The realization that he now held the power to seal this cycle, to condemn his own daughter to the same fate he had endured, ignited something primal within him. The temperature in the chamber plummeted as Stolas's fury manifested in waves of dark energy, his four eyes blazing with an intensity that made some of his magical aura flicker in rage.
"Let me tell you a story, Zepar..." Stolas's voice emerged with deadly calm, the kind that precedes catastrophic storms. "Every morning, I would wake to face an endless barrage of insults from Stella. Each day brought fresh contempt, a new wave of hatred. And do you know why I endured it?" His four eyes blazed with intensity. "For Octavia. Because I desperately wanted to give her what I never had—a family. I lost my mother as an infant, and Father. Well, we all know how present Paimon was in my upbringing."
Phenex uncomfortably rubbed her neck, averting her gaze from anyone after Stolas mentioned his mother. Andras, meanwhile, was surprisingly calm and stared at Stolas, seeming to reevaluate Stolas at this very moment.
"I wanted something different for my daughter. Even a difficult family would be better than none at all. And despite everything, Octavia succeeded where Stella failed. She moved beyond our dysfunction and made her own path." His voice swelled with pride before hardening again. Stolas slammed his hands onto the table with such force that the crystal glasses shattered. "And I swear by every spirit above, I will not repeat my father's stupidity!"
"I will not condemn my daughter to the same cycle of misery!"
And just like that, Stolas breaks the curse once and for all...
"So listen well, you bloated sack of feathers! You repugnant waste of Hell's resources, you putrid excuse for nobility!" Stolas snarled, each insult letting go of suppressed rage. Even this dedication made Andras watch with unconcealed approval as his former son-in-law advanced toward Zepar, years of cultivated noble restraint finally shattering. "My answer is no. Octavia will never marry Gaap, and you can take your entire cursed house and shove it straight into the void!"
"Now that's how a real man stands up for his child!" Andras cheered, slamming his fist on the table in approval. "Show this pompous bastard what real nobility looks like!"
"♪ Andras...♪" Phenex sighed; this is getting too much.
"You dare insult the entirety of House Paimon this way, Stolas!?" Zepar's voice thundered through the chamber. "Then let there be war! We shall bring the full might of our legions against your precious daughter's claim!"
"Then do it! I would rather face you on the battlefield than condemn Octavia to a lifetime of misery!" Stolas's response carried deadly conviction, his four eyes glowing with otherworldly power.
"And my blade stands ready to taste Paimon blood!" Andras declared, rising to stand beside his former son-in-law. His talons extended as he assumed a warrior's stance. Phenex facepalmed herself as she was losing control over them. "Your days are over, Zepar. House of Andras-Phenexia will stand on Octavia's side to put you down!"
"Enough!" Phenex's voice cut through the tension as she rubbed her temples in evident frustration. "Everyone will calm themselves immediately. A civil war among the noble houses is the last thing Ars Goetia needs right now!"
"Phenex, you can't expect me to—" Stolas began, but Phenex's metallic feathers bristled dangerously.
"Silence, Stolas!" She commanded, showing in her tone she won't hesitate. "Or you'll find yourself with yet another enemy to contend with!"
"Choose your next words carefully. I won't stand idle while you threaten my son-in-law. Even if it means we become enemies ourselves." Andras warned her, showing he won't hesitate to break the old union.
"Don't threaten an elector if you find yourself in this situation, Andras! Now the three of you will sit down and let us talk! Otherwise, I will have to announce heavy tax laws and sanctions! Failure to abide by it would allow me to mobilize the Marquisate to put you all down. Mark my words, don't piss me off!"
Like Stolas, Phenex's anger is a force of nature on its own. She showed that she will cross the lines if needed, even if she will regret it. Still, Stolas felt betrayed that Phenex didn't stand up to this. He slowly lowered himself back into his chair, his four eyes never leaving Zepar's smug expression. How quickly supposed allies could turn against you in the great game of Hell's politics.
Calming down and giving them some breathing room, Phenex turned her gaze to the grand table, her voice calm yet sharp.
“♪ It seems things have become… heated tonight, hmm, yes. ♪” Her tone carried the delicate balance of acknowledging tension without assigning blame. “♪ On behalf of my house, I extend my sincerest apologies. ♪” Phenex’s eyes briefly flicked toward Stolas, her gaze subtly demanding patience. “♪ To demonstrate our hospitality, I have prepared a dessert that I believe you will find most satisfying: an exquisite cake crafted by my finest chef. ♪”
Zepar leaned back in his seat, his fingers drumming on the polished surface of the table. The faint sneer on his face was not entirely replaced by his curt nod, but his appetite seemed to override his indignation. “Cake, you say? I suppose such a gesture warrants consideration.”
“♪ Wonderful. Stolas, do fetch the cake, won’t you? One of my servants will show you where it is kept. ♪” Phenex’s radiant smile never wavered.
"Is that an order, Elector?" Stolas hissed at her. His four eyes narrowed slightly, and he hesitated as if choosing his next words with care. “Surely the servant alone would suffice for such a task?”
"♪ The cake is a token of goodwill, Yeoman Stolas. It would only be fitting if its presentation began with the grace of your assistance. Hmm, yes? ♪” Phenex’s voice dropped just a fraction in warmth, an unmistakable command.
Caught between Phenex’s unyielding tone and the simmering tension already present, Stolas relented in the end, rising from his seat. One of Phenex’s servants stepped forward with a low bow.
“If you will follow me, commoner,” the imp said, gesturing for Stolas to proceed toward the adjoining hallway.
Phenex observed the retreating forms of Stolas and the servant with a look that bordered on amusement. The faint clinking of glassware signaled that her attention had shifted back to their guest.
Meanwhile, in the corridor, the atmosphere grew quieter but no less strained. Stolas followed the servant past intricate tapestries and towering windows. The servant’s footsteps echoed lightly against the black marble, and after a brief silence, they arrived at the grand kitchen.
The cake in question was a masterpiece—a towering confection adorned with gold leaf and black roses made of sugar, the kind of elaborate display meant to dazzle even the most jaded noble.
From a nearby drawer, the servant retrieved a blade of unsettling beauty: its hilt embedded with a gleaming red gemstone—and set the sheathed dagger beside the cake with meticulous care.
Stolas’s four eyes lingered on the dagger for a moment too long, sensing something unusual in the way it seemed to hum faintly. Though curiosity stirred within him, now was hardly the time to inquire. With a careful nod, he slid his hands beneath the ornate platter, lifting the cake as the servant held the heavy doors open for him.
“Please take care of our guest tonight. Make sure it will be the finest moment in his entire life.” The servant said softly, their words carrying an undercurrent that Stolas couldn’t quite place.
The only response was Stolas' raised eyebrow, but nothing he said back. He instead carried the cake back to the main hall. When Stolas reentered the hall, he noted, with faint surprise, several crossbowmen stationed on the second floor, their stances rigid as they stood at attention. The sight sent a ripple of unease through him, but he maintained his composed expression as he set the cake down on the table and resumed his seat. He folded his hands in his lap, ignoring the dessert entirely.
"♪ Thank you, Yeoman. ♪" Phenex rose gracefully from her seat, a gleaming presence as she took the dagger in hand. “♪ Ah, such a delightful masterpiece, hmm yes. Allow me the honor of serving us all. ♪”
And in that moment when Phenex removed the covering, it revealed it...a blessed dagger, straight from Exorcist arsenal. Stolas blinked a few times before opting to voice his concerns.
"Phenex. What—"
"Quiet, pleb!" Phenex warned...or faked it; she was too good to hide her real emotions. She moved to slice the cake, her movements deliberate yet elegant.
"Nice of you to control him, Phenex." Zepar remarked, still rather busy with playing a game of death stares with Andras; neither of them saw the dagger.
"♪ Why, thank you, darling. But despite the tension of tonight’s discussions, I must admit, I understand where Stolas is coming from. ♪” She glanced at Zepar, a faint sadness flickering in her eyes. “♪ Once upon a time, I too loved someone so close to my heart. It changes you, doesn't it? We all make choices, hmm, yes. Some of them leave hearts broken. Quite literally, in some cases. ♪"
Zepar let out a low chuckle, watching as Phenex cut herself a piece of cake.
“You try so hard to hide it, Lady Phenex. You can fool this dimwit over there, but this trick won't work on him." Zepar chuckled again.
Phenex smiled in response, an enigmatic curve of her beak as she placed her own slice on the plate.
“And what do you mean by that, cloaca?” Stolas asked, his curiosity overriding his restraint.
"What? She didn't tell you, and yet you two are allies? Oh, how foolish you are." Zepar’s grin widened. “Your own mother had rather curious tastes in allegiances. She and Phenex were quite the pair in their youth. Always together, always stirring the court into whispers.”
“♪ Ah, those were simpler times. When we were naive, hmm yes, and didn’t yet understand how the world of Ars Goetia truly worked. ♪” Phenex’s smirk deepened as she placed Zepar’s slice before him with impeccable grace, the dagger still in her hand as she tilted her head. "♪ You see, Stolas, in the name of love, everyone will do drastic things. ♪”
"Especially now..."
Not a second passed as Phenex plunged the blessed dagger deep into Zepar’s throat. The blade slid effortlessly through flesh, as Zepar’s multiple eyes widened in shock, his hands clawing at the hilt as blood poured down his elaborate robes.
"What the fuck, Phenex!?" Andras screamed as he immediately leapt to his feet, not expecting that outcome.
"My duke?!" Imp servant screamed in horror. Zepar’s guards also reacted to the plain assassination act, their weapons drawn as the tension in the room ignited into action. Stolas rose as well, his four eyes scanning the scene for the inevitable fallout. But nothing would come out of it as Phenex’s crossbowmen on the second floor responded with ruthless efficiency. Their bolts flew true, striking Zepar’s guards and his servant with deadly precision. The guards with the imp servant fell in rapid succession, leaving their master unprotected.
Phenex let go of Zepar as he struggled to remove the same dagger, much to her amusement. Choking on his own blood, he stumbled from his chair by accident, his massive form crashing to the floor. He tried to rise, his claws scraping against the polished marble, but his strength was rapidly draining. Phenex slowly approached him with measured steps, her shadow looming over his crumpled form. Leaning down, she whispered, her voice cold and deliberate.
“♪ I won’t pretend this was only business, dear Zepar. I’ll admit… I’m enjoying every moment of your suffering. Say hi to Sitri in the void, hmm yes. ♪”
Zepar’s multiple eyes glared up at her, fury and despair mingling in his gaze. But before he could muster any response...not that he could for a broken pipe in his neck. Phenex raised the dagger from his throat and drove it into his back with savage stabs. One stab, two stabs... twenty-eight in total to finish him off.
The blade cut deep, and blood sprayed across her body, making even Andras horrified by his sister's brutality. But her cruelty didn't end as she lingered for a moment, pressing the hilt with a slow, deliberate force to push deeper as she stared at begging Zepar in delight.
Eventually, Zepar’s body shuddered violently before going still, the light fading from his many eyes as he succumbed to death. Phenex straightened, pulling the bloodied dagger free and observing the lifeless form beneath her with a faint, satisfied smile.
“Hmm, yes. Drastic things indeed.” She murmured, turning back to face the room where the chaos had begun to subside.
Stolas stared at Zepar's lifeless form, his four eyes wide with a mixture of shock and dawning comprehension. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air as he turned to Phenex, who was casually wiping the dagger clean with a silk handkerchief...while she herself was covered in blood.
"Why, Phenex?" The question emerged barely above a whisper as Stolas moved closer, completely horrified by her brutality.
"♪ Come now, darling. Surely you didn't think all that theatrical posturing about peace treaties was genuine? ♪" Phenex's beak curved into an elegant smile as she examined the now-pristine blade. She set the dagger aside, then looked at him. "♪ Consider this my gift to you and Andras—revenge served on a silver platter, hmm, yes. ♪"
"And for you..." Stolas noted. Andras stared at the body in the meantime, crossed with arms and still disturbed by the sight.
"♪ And for Octavia as well. That pompous waste of feathers would have never stopped pursuing her claim. Sometimes the simplest solution is the most effective, wouldn't you agree? ♪"
"Sweet spirit..." Stolas pinched the bridge of his beak, exhaling slowly. "Okay, I knew you were acting in some capacity, Phenex. Questionably, of course, but still." He gestured toward the corpse. "But this—this is going to create complications for Octavia. Once Gaap discovers his father's death—
A melodious laugh interrupted him as Phenex's eyes glittered with calculated amusement.
"♪ Oh, my dear Stolas. Always so concerned with the obvious threads while missing the greater tapestry. ♪" She glided closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "♪ At this very moment, a rather unfortunate accident is occurring at Zepar's manor. It seems someone tampered with the distillery equipment. Such a shame—these old estates can be quite hazardous when proper maintenance is neglected. ♪"
"You arranged an explosion..." Stolas stated flatly, knowing her enough that she didn't come unprepared.
"♪ And I may have suggested to Gaap's dear mother that this would be an excellent time to... what's the polite term? Ah, 'yes—secure her rightful portion of the family assets.' The poor woman has endured Zepar's abuse for centuries. She seemed quite eager to assert her independence, especially with the right financial incentives. Gaap is left with nothing. As for him, don't you worry; I got it covered. ♪"
"A proper duel would have settled this more honorably. My blade against his—a warrior's death." Andras, who had been staring at Zepar's corpse with an expression of mingled disappointment, finally spoke up.
"♪ Still living in the Theurgia Era, aren't you, brother dear? ♪" Phenex's voice carried fond exasperation. She gestured toward several servants who had materialized at the chamber's edge with the next task. "♪ Do be useful and help them drag this mess to my fish pond. My precious darlings haven't had such a feast in ages, hmm, yes. They'll be dining like royalty for months. ♪"
Andras's feathers bristled with indignation. "Why me? Let your servants handle this corpse. I am a Marquis of the Ars Goetia, not some common disposal service!"
"♪ Need I remind you of the hierarchy here, dear brother? I am an Elector-Marquise. ♪" Phenex fixed her brother with an imperious stare. "♪ And our dear Stolas, while cherished, currently holds the rank of Yeoman. Such delicate matters of aristocratic disposal fall to those of appropriate position. Besides..." she added with a smirk. "♪ Consider it your contribution to justice served, for you have done nothing but throw tantrums today. ♪"
Muttering a string of ancient curses under his breath, Andras complied and grabbed Zepar's legs while the servants lifted the upper body. Even for someone of Andras's considerable strength, the dead weight of Zepar's substantial form proved challenging.
"By the void itself!" Andras growled as he struggled with his burden. "Even in death, you're an insufferable burden!"
The sound of his strained complaints echoed down the corridor as they disappeared from view. Once Andras had gone, Phenex turned to Stolas with a knowing grin spreading across her beak.
"What?" Stolas asked, his four eyes narrowing at her expression.
"♪ Oh, come now. Admit it—there's a part of you that's positively thrilled to see justice served so. Stella will certainly appreciate it. ♪" Phenex's voice dripped with amusement.
"I won't pretend to mourn him, but I take no particular pleasure in revenge, Phenex. I'm simply grateful this chapter of intrigue is finally closed." Stolas released a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "However, there are matters that I want to hear from you."
"♪ Oh... such as? ♪?" Phenex raised an elegant eyebrow.
"What did Zepar mean about you and my mother? And more pressingly, this mysterious letter signed with A"—I suspect you know more than you're letting on." Stolas was careful with a neutral tone.
For a moment, Phenex's feathers dimmed ever so slightly, their usual lustrous sheen fading as her gaze drifted to the ornate windows. For the briefest instant, something almost vulnerable flickered in her face.
"♪ I knew your mother quite well enough, way before you were born. ♪" Phenex began, her voice unusually soft despite being covered in blood. "♪ Back then, before I held the title of Elector, we were...♪" She paused, choosing her words with uncharacteristic care. "♪ We were inseparable. Two young souls navigating the politics together. Only thanks to her did I become an elector after she recommended me due to the unfortunate death of Kimaris, the previous elector before me. ♪"
"So...you're just grateful to my mom?" Stolas assumed why she was like this.
"That too... but there is more. Queen Octavia saw something in me that others missed. Not just another ambitious noble climbing the ranks, hmm, yes, but someone worthy of trust... of friendship." A bitter smile curved her beak. "Such a rare commodity in our circles...to the end."
"And yet something changed between you..." Stolas leaned forward, his four eyes fixed intently on Phenex.
"♪ Everything changes, darling. And sometimes...♪" Phenex's voice hardened slightly; she straightened, her usual commanding presence reasserting itself. "♪ Sometimes we must choose between what we want and what we must become. But that's ancient history now, hmm, yes? We have more pressing matters to discuss. ♪"
"Yes, the conspiracy," Stolas prompted, his expression thoughtful. "Could Andras or Andrephalus be behind this?"
Phenex's melodious laugh echoed through the chamber.
"♪ Oh, my dear, you give them far too much credit. Andras? ♪" She gestured dismissively. "♪ My brother's idea of subtlety is announcing his arrival with a war cry and drawn blade. And Andrephalus? ♪" She rolled her eyes. "Don't get me started on that pompous peacock. He couldn't scheme his way out of a paper bag without someone noticing. The only thing he could do is to get fucked in the closet."
"What?" Stolas got confused.
"♪ Eh, long story. ♪" Phenex chuckled, waving him off. "♪ But no, 100% it's not them. I do, however, feel like all paths lead back to one source of darkness...Ars Bael himself. ♪"
Stolas felt shiver by what she said. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him. The question is...why?
"You think it has something to do with the Ark of the Covenant? In my experience, schemes usually connect to-"
"♪ That's merely one piece of a much larger puzzle of conspiracy, Stolas. ♪" Phenex interrupted, her voice sharp. "♪ Ars Bael's ambitions extended far beyond mere artifacts, hmm, yes. But there is something...that might be an answer. ♪" She paused, her expression growing grave.
"What aren't you telling me, Phenex?"
Phenex closed her eyes, still these words bound in her mind, when Solomon himself told her this.
"♪ There will be no escape, no blessed oblivion for them...♪" Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper as she recited words that seemed to chill the very air. "♪ For he can end our existence as easily as he can extinguish a star, and before your corpse is cold, he can reach out and grasp your spirit. Ars Goetia is his slave for all eternity, and he shall laugh at the depths of your pain. ♪"
"♪ Such is the power of Ars Bael...the Foul Power that Brings Death to Undeath. ♪"
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/The Ancient Theurgia/Valley Of Ars Belial
("The Ancient Ars Goetia (Theurgia)- The Valley Of The Dead")
Do not speak ill of the dead...one can't really remain silent for ill of the dead in the first place.
Some nobles in Ars Goetia would question these mere idea...an idea of respecting the dead. When had death become something to respect in Hell? When demons started treating corpses with reverence? Perhaps it was around the same time the Ars Goetia had lost its way.
Ah, Ars (Theurgia)-Goetia... also known as Ars Goetian Golden Age. The mere thought of those words sent a wave of melancholy through Paimon's spirit. Ancient Ars Goetia represented everything that was once great about their kind - the perfect sophisticated magical artifice. They are, after all, is the reason why both Modern Inferno and magical demonic power exists.
Ars Goetia started with nothing. When Lucifer and Satan lost the War In Heaven, the great anarchy ensued as Fallen Angels lost any sight of collective control and lost themselves in pure anarchy. The first to realize that the Underworld could become an new home for Fallen Angels was The Grigori Angel named Goetiael...hence the name.
He was considered "Ars Zero" of Ars Goetia, before disappearing from the trace of history. Then of course came Ars Belial, who changed everything. He is the one who Inferno and Seven Deadly Sins should be grateful for he pioneered the many concepts that are still used today, Ars Goetia, Demonkind, Hell as Alternative afterlife, free from Heaven's tyranny and many...many more. Under the guidance of Ars Belial, Ars Goetia had transformed the Proto-Inferno from a chaotic wasteland into a realm of dark splendor and power. They were greatest civilization that Demons even knew, stretching from Blasmephy Ring all the way to Proto-Wrath Ring.
But now? Now the Theurgia was nothing more than a relic of the past, its glory preserved only in these cursed grounds. The Valley itself seemed to mock him with their empty gazes, silent witnesses to how far the mighty had fallen. Now they were little more than wind chimes made of bone, rattling in Hell's cold breeze. In the end, Theurgia collapsed and now modern Ars Goetia was born from the rotting corpse. They had traded their heritage of magical mastery for political games and petty power struggles. Spirit praised that Ars Belial died early to witness the fall of Ars Goetia...he would have turned the entire Hell upside down for this.
And now as remainder of that mockery, the Valley of Ars Belial stretched endlessly before them, a sea of tombstones all around the looming Great Pyramid of Belial. Statues of Goetian bird in submissive kneeling, alongside statues of Sentinels, watched for eternity of this "eternity" and provided somewhat tense company to two demon lords as they searched for one particular tomb among thousands.
"This tomb, nya?" Beleth pointed weakly at the tomb entrance.
"No...that one belongs to that Vicarian Hellhound named Varcolac or something, I don't remember." King Paimon replied confidently, not bothering to look at it. "Those who served Mighty Belial directly are much closer to his pyramid...I will recognize my mentor's resting place on the first glance."
"Fine..." King Beleth sniffed, holding at least three or four dusty and worn-off grimoires.
King Paimon simply sighed at Beleth's state. He has been like this since they visited Prince Sitri's tomb for his grimoire. Beleth wept at the sight of his son's sarcophagus. The sight of such raw grief had made me... uncomfortable for Paimon.
"Get over it already, Beleth. Your son has found peace in True Paradise with Belial." Paimon had stated, his voice carrying neither comfort nor cruelty, just an fact. "This display serves no purpose."
"Prince Sitri, nya... he was too young."
"And your constant weeping dishonours his death."
"Oh, thanks, Lord Obvious! You should be grateful, nya, for at least your sons still draw breaths!" Beleth complained, his tone much sharper.
"Which son?" Paimon turned slowly.
"Oh, don't you mock me, nya! You know Sitri was my only child!." Beleth's claws extended unconsciously. "What would you know of true loss? Of watching your own blood fade before your eyes and the entire House of Beleth having no heir? You on the other hand, had so many wives and so many sons I could not count my fingers!"
"Choose your next words carefully, Beleth. You're not the only one with graves to visit in this valley. My brothers-in-arms with whom I fought with since Heaven rest here. And she..." His voice caught for a moment. "She..."
The words died in his throat as his gaze drifted toward the farest section of the valley. For a brief moment, Paimon's cold indifference slipped, revealing something raw beneath. He closed his eyes, sighing before returning hist stare back at Beleth.
"My apologizes, Belleth. Come on, follow me for the tomb we seek lies ahead."
Beleth watched Paimon's back as he walked a bit, his feline eyes narrowing in thought. In all the centuries they'd known each other, he'd never seen the great king show such... vulnerability. The usual the cold logic, the sharp criticism – all of it had cracked for just a moment. Something about this valley, about her, whoever she was, had pierced through Paimon's carefully maintained façade.
"Nya... you've changed," Beleth muttered under his breath, too quietly for Paimon to hear. Nevertheless he would catch up with his fellow king of Ars Goetia.
The path wound deeper into the valley, near the center of Pyramid, where the oldest and most prestigious tombs lay in their rest. Those who served Belial are the ones who were honored to have their resting place near the pyramid of Ars Belial. Of course, no-one ever dared or even THOUGHT to build another Pyramid for Ars Bael here...the audacity would had made Belial himself to wake from his eternal slumber and kick their tails straight into void...you're so missed in these dire times, Mighty Belial. Goetias like you...never born anymore.
"We're here." Paimon announced, his voice returning to its usual business like tone.
Finally, Beleth and Paimon stopped before a grand tomb entrance. Unlike the other tombs, this one bore intricate astronomical symbols carved into its obsidian walls. Constellations unknown to modern Hell traced patterns across the stone, and at its center, a familiar sigil gleamed:
("The Ancient Ars Goetia (Theurgia) - The House Of Stolas Main Theme)
"So... Grand Vizier Stolas' tomb, nya?" Beleth's tail swished thoughtfully as he examined the astronomical markings. He noticed how his companion's gaze lingered on certain symbols. "Isn't this where Princess Octavia came to retrieve a grimoire back in funeral?"
"I know nothing of what my granddaughter may or may not have taken in there. The Grand Vizier's and his grimoire is but one of many books stored in there. That's why we're here to take the rest." The King of Ars Goetia then raised his palm as the magic of Ars Goetia flown in his hand. At first there were whispers and then...just silence. "There...spirits won't bother us with their hallucinations."
"Great, nya...after you." Beleth gestured, his usual playfulness unable to mask the unease in his voice.
Paimon stepped into the darkness without hesitation, with Beleth following in suit. As destined for Belial's servants, the tomb's interior unfolded with many interiors. Most walls were carved with astronomical hieroglyphs, all that was discovered and learned by the Original Stolas.
Along the walls, grave niches stretched endlessly deeper into the tomb. Each alcove housed the skeletal remains of Ars Goetia servants or minor nobility, their bones still draped in tattered finery that spoke of their elevated status in Theurgia Era. Some clutched scrolls to their ribcages. Others held astronomical instruments, their bony fingers forever frozen around them.
Golden braziers, long cold, lined the processional way deeper into the tomb. Between them lay the shattered remains of offering tables, still laden with gifts for the Theurgian Paradise: crystallized soul-essence in alabaster jars and astronomical charts drawn in inks that still shimmered with otherworldly light.
In each corner of the vast chamber, the Tomb Guards remained at their eternal posts – or what was left of them. These sentinels of Theurgia had collapsed where they stood, their ceremonial armor now nothing but empty shells scattered across the floor. Their skull-like masks, shaped like owl faces, stared sightlessly upward, some still bearing traces that had bound them to their duty.
Beleth could not but focus on all around him when he stepped on something.
*Bone Snap*
He looked down and saw he by accidently snapped the Tomb Guard's bone leg with his fleshy one. Paimon stopped in his path and stared at him in annoyance, followed by rolls of his eyes.
"Mind your step. Let them be ignorant of modern Ars Goetia." Paimon whispered, once more carefully navigating around a collapsed Tomb Guards. Beleth tried to...somehow to connect to broken pieces somehow...only to give up, saying sorry to that Tomb Guard and just following Paimon further.
The passageway finally opened into a vast circular chamber that seemed to capture the very essence of the cosmos itself. Unlike the previous chambers, this one remained mostly untouched by time's decay, protected by magic far more ancient than even the oldest Goetias could remember.
At the chamber's heart, rested Grand Vizier Stolas' sarcophagus. The lid bore Stolas' image in his true form – a being of pure cosmic energy barely contained within a princely shape, his crown of stars eternally blazing.
https://www.deviantart.com/yliade/art/Khonsu-Egyptian-Gods-794278754
"And you still are here...my old mentor." Paimon would come to the sacrophage, his hand traced the intricate patterns on surface, his touch gentle in honor. It felt like resting place hummed beneath his fingers, responding to his presence like a familiar friend. "When you gaze long into the stars, you'll find that the stars gaze also into you, revealing truths about yourself that you never knew existed. But beware, for some truths are better left undiscovered, forever just beyond your reach."
"That's Stolasel' teaching alright, nya." Beleth sighed while he shifted uncomfortably, his tail swishing in the dusty air. "I rarely saw him myself, nya. The Nomarch position Belial granted me kept me busy in the upper rings, managing those endless salt mines and quarries..." He shook his head, not wanting to reminiscent. "Though I heard stories. They said he could read the future in the patterns of distant galaxies."
"He could do far more than that. For he was the first to write the magical knowledge on our Papyruses, before grimoires were a thing. It was an honor to witness his work, however briefly. Times were simpler then. We had purpose, direction. The Ars Goetia stood united under Belial's vision. And now look at us...All because of that cursed campaign against the Vicarians."
"I remember the reports from that frontier, nya. Entire legions lost to their hordes. But surely one failed campaign couldn't have-" Beleth's ears flattened against his head.
"It wasn't just the military defeat," Paimon cut him off, his hand clenching against the sarcophagus's surface. "It was what came after...treachery."
"Yeah..." Beleth stepped closer to the sarcophagus, his natural feline grace making him seem almost as ethereal as Paimon for a moment. "You miss him, nya? The real him, not just what he represented?"
"I miss what he reminded us we could be, Beleth. What the Ars Goetia was meant to be." Paimon's hand finally withdrew from the sarcophagus's surface. "But we're not here for reminiscence."
"Beleth looked up at the pedestal where usually grimoire must be. The Grimoire of Absolute Celestial Knowledge rewritten by King Octavian isn't here.
"Huh...that must be what your granddaughter took, nya."
"The Goetian Houses keep its members close, even in death. Royal family members share the same tomb complex." Paimon's gaze shifted from the empty pedestal to the far corners of the chamber, where additional passages branched off into darkness. "There are three grimoires here to be precise, including one my granddaughter took it. King Octavian: The Grim 's grimoire rests in the eastern chamber over there. And the other..."
Paimon paused, his voice trailed off in the end, leaving the sentence hanging in the dusty air.
"Ah, King Octavian...of course." Beleth's whiskers twitched as he chuckled softly, though the sound held a note of reverence. "I actually met him a few times, nya. Always going on about how everything was destined to fall apart, how the Seven Deadly Sins spelled doom for us all. A real pessimist was, that one."
"And yet, he was one of our greatest kings...great friend too." Paimon's expression softened slightly. He again glanced at the western side of the tomb pathway, sighing himself. Suddenly, he began to move toward the western passage. "You retrieve Octavian's grimoire but I will take the other."
"Nya? But wouldn't it be faster if we-" Beleth's tail swished in confusion.
"No." Paimon's tone was final, though something in it seemed almost... vulnerable. "The other grimoire... I need to retrieve it personally. Some things must be undertaken alone."
Beleth decided to not just argue with pompous ass of a King and just moved on with the task. The two demons parted ways at the junction where the Stolas' grand chamber split into different passages. Beleth's footsteps echoed down the eastern corridor, while Paimon stood for a moment, watching his companion disappear before turning to his own path.
Unlike the ancient sections they'd traversed before in this tomb, this corridor bore marks of more recent construction. The astronomical engravings here were clearer, unworn by time. The stone itself was different – newer, that is.
Paimon's usually regal stride had slowed to an almost hesitant pace as his fingers traced the wall engravings, lingering over certain symbols. Here and there, alcoves held the remains of servants, but these were different from the ancient skeletons of Theurgia they'd encountered before. Some still retained fragments of flesh, their ceremonial robes only beginning to decay with their features not yet fully claimed by time and decay.
"You always insisted on having your household staff buried with full honors," Paimon murmured to the silence. "Even the lowest servant deserved dignity in death, you said."
Knowing there won't be any answer, Paimon moved on deeper. The passage opened into a circular chamber, smaller than the main hall but no less magnificent. The ceiling here depicted not the cosmic image of distant stars, but rather the constellations as they had appeared on the night of a specific date – a detail that made Paimon's face flicker momentarily with suppressed emotion.
At the chamber's center stood a sarcophagus of pure white star-metal, its surface etched with intricate patterns. Unlike the other tombs, this one was surrounded by still-burning ethereal flames in braziers, their blue-white light casting a gentle glow that made the metal gleam like moonlight on snow.
"A beautiful resting place...worthy of a Queen of Ars Goetia." Paimon approached slowly, his eyes fixed on the sarcophagus's slab where an inscription was carved in elegant script:
Queen Octavia: Beloved by Stars
Her intelligence, temper and bravery were as legendary as her beauty, as was her intense sense of honour and justice.
Her reign was tragically short, cut down as she was in her prime.
All of Goetia mourned her passing, for they knew she would have brought great glory to the Ars Goetia.
And of course the portrait of herself painted on the wall.
[Author Here]
[Picture of her appears to be AI created, considering it comes from the "AI Chat" site. But I will have to give some good points because her portrait fits quite enough here. T here is another option but it's more an family portrait rather than grave portrait and the source comes from the Rule 34 site. You can check it here but be warned of explicit stuff if you browse the site for more content. Don't tell me I didn't warn you.]
[But anyway. As you can see, @TeaTheKook's Queen Octavia is now canon in this fic.]
"Though no tomb, no matter how grand, could truly capture your essence, my love." Paimon's voice was barely above a whisper, his hand reached out to touch the inscription, fingers tracing each letter as if committing them to memory all over again. His hand moved from the inscription to the smooth surface of the sarcophagus, his touch as gentle as if he were caressing living flesh of hers than star-metal.
"How many political marriages did I endure over the millennia? How many arranged unions to secure alliances, to strengthen bloodlines, to satisfy the endless machinations of our noble houses? They all wanted the crown, the power, the prestige of being my queen...all except of you." A soft, bitter laugh escaped him. "You actually tried to refuse the marriage at first. Said you were more interested in your astronomical studies than becoming another noble's political pawn..."
The flames seemed to respond to his words, even though nothing really give him an answer.
"You made me remember what it was like," Paimon continued, his voice growing softer. "Before the fall, before all this... when I still wore the light of creation on my light, when the stars were more than just distant lights to study – when they were our companions, our playground...our home." His hand paused over the center of the sarcophagus, where an intricate owl design was carved....which was her resting face carved out in marble. "You brought that wonder back. Not through magical feats, but through the simple joy you found in discovery. The way your eyes would light up when you mapped a new constellation. How you'd wake me in the dead of night just to show me a celestial alignment you'd predicted. The others... they were marriages of necessity. A century or two, an heir produced, alliances secured, then amicable separation. But you...when you were gone."
His voice caught, something almost unheard of for the King of Ars Goetia, might have been a tear even. But Paimon straightened suddenly, his composure returning like a mask sliding back into place, though his hand remained on the sarcophagus. "Now.... here I am again, my dear. Once more asking for your wisdom. Though this time..." He glanced toward where her grimoire would be kept, "I fear the price of knowledge may be higher than ever before. Your death...it will not be meaningless, my love. Not anymore." "
With one final caress of the sarcophagus, Paimon turned toward the pedestal where the grimoire rested. Just as he remember it, this one seemed to pulse with a energy, its cover adorned with astronomical symbols that mirrored those on the chamber walls.
"Everything I've planned, every scheme I've moved into place over these centuries – it's all been leading to this moment. Soon, I will claim what was promised to us. The title of Ars – the true ruler of all Ars Goetia." Paimon's voice hardened, all trace of earlier tenderness replaced by coldness, as Paimon truly was. He reached for the grimoire, his fingers hovering just above its surface. His hand then closed around the grimoire, and for a moment, the astronomical markings on its cover gleamed with an inner light.
"I will restore our realm to what it should have been, what you dreamed it could be. And she will finally answer for her crimes. As for Ars Bael... his treachery runs deeper than even you knew. His games of power – all will be exposed. In death, he will be forgotten."
Paimon turned back to face the sarcophagus, holding the grimoire close to his chest....finally ready to say goodbye.
"I swear to you, my beloved Queen of Stars, either I will restore the glory of Ars Goetia...or I will bring us all down into oblivion. There will be no middle ground this time. When the stars align – and they will align – everything changes. Either we rise to our former glory...or we burn together in our final fall."
The silence that followed his declaration hung heavy in the air, broken only by the soft crackle of eternal flames. Paimon just turned to leave, the grimoire secured against his chest...when a voice sliced through the quiet like a frozen blade.
"You will bring death to undeath to Ars Goetia, Servant Of Belial."
("The Ancient Ars Goetia (Theurgia) - Ars Bael's Treachery Main Theme)
The words seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Paimon's form tensed for just a moment before his royal composure returned, his grip tightening on the grimoire. Dark mist began seeping through the cracks in the walls, coalescing into writhing tendrils that reeked of Ars Bael's corrupted magic.
The mist gathered before him, taking shape with agonizing slowness. First came the crown, then the familiar curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulders – a perfect recreation of Queen Octavia I, but wrong in all the subtle ways that matter. Her eyes, once filled with curiosity and warmth, now burned with an unnatural purple flame of hatred.
"My beloved..." the Spirit-Octavia's voice was a twisted echo of her true tone. "Why do you persist in this mad quest? How many more must die for your ambition?"
"You wear her form, speak with her voice, but you are nothing but Bael's puppet – a Spirit meant to torment those who wander these halls."
The spirit drifted closer, its form flickering between Octavia's regal bearing and something far more grotesque. "We show what lies in the hearts of those we visit. Your guilt, your fear, your doubt – they are as real as the crown you seek."
"What lies in my heart.." Paimon's free hand began to glow with intense magical energy, "is something your own master could never understand. Begone!"
The blast of pure celestial magic erupted from his palm, brilliant and searing. The Spirit-Octavia's form distorted, its scream a horrible mixture of Queen Octavia's voice and something ancient and inhuman. The corrupted essence scattered like smoke, fleeing through countless cracks in the ancient stonework, leaving behind only whispers:
"Death to undeath... death to undeath."
Paimon didn't wait for more. With the grimoire clutched tightly, he strode swiftly toward the exit, his footsteps echoing against the stone. Eventually, he emerged from the darkened passage to find Beleth already waiting in Stolas' main chamber, his feline form rigid with tension. The grimoire was clutched tightly in his hands – a massive tome bound in what appeared to be starlight-infused leather, its edges gleaming with a dull silver light. Definitely Octavian's grimoire.
"You encountered them too, nya?" Beleth's ears were flat against his head, his tail lashing back and forth in agitation. "You... you didn't tell me how far Bael's corruption had spread through these tombs."
"I may have... underestimated the extent of his influence here." Paimon's expression darkened as he stepped fully into the chamber, Octavia's grimoire held. "What did you see?"
"Phantom. Spirit of Guilt taking the form of King Octavian..." Beleth shuddered, his grip on Octavian's grimoire tightening.
"And what did he say?"
"That my son died in most pathetic way possible, calling him "Sitri: The Perishable"...and he called me an bitch too, nya."
"Sounds about right..." Paimon sighed, impressed how magic of Bael could make these spirits to sometimes perfectly mimic the ones they take form off. Octavian would probably called Beleth an bitch, for how how pessimist he was in existence.
"PAAAAIMOOOOOON!"
A distant ghost wail echoed then through the corridors behind them, followed by the sound of stone grinding against stone. Even from Stolas' sarcophagus is seeping a foul shadow magic of Ars Bael.
"We need to leave. Now!" Paimon's tone left no room for discussion.
Beleth needed no further encouragement. Together, they moved swiftly toward the tomb's entrance. Behind them, the sounds grew louder – whispers, scraping, and the occasional Queen Octavia's wail cry. Only when they reached the tomb's entrance did they pause, looking back one final time at the darkness they'd disturbed. The astronomical markings on the walls pulsed with a faint, warning light....and everything went quit once more. Paimon didn't waste time and sealed off the entrance with a gesture of ancient magic, to protect this place from robbers.
"We have what we came for." Paimon commanded, already striding away from the tomb. "Let's go."
"Should we... not talk about this, nya?"
"No."
"Okay!" Beleth followed quickly, his feline eyes darting back one last time at the sealed entrance. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw starlight bleeding through the cracks in the stone, but he decided some things were better left unmentioned.
The two demons made their way through the valley of ancient tombs once more. Their attention was fixed ahead, where the horizon was dominated by a structure that dwarfed even the grand tombs around them – the Great 1,952 feet tall Pyramid of Ars Belial. Even today it looked magnificent and majestic, with the tip of pyramid can be seen all around the Blasphemy Ring no matter where you're. At its entrance, a gathering of Hell's most powerful demons waited – the Kings and Queens of Ars Goetia, each clutching grimoires of their own.
Duke Agares stood at the forefront, his aged form supervised the collection of ancient tomes. Beside him, Queen Viném's serpentine lower half coiled restlessly while King Balam's bestial features remained fixed in a perpetual snarl. King Zagan leaned against a pillar, idly examining his claws, while King Purson's face shifted in constant motion as he accounted the grimoires. As Paimon and Beleth approached, Agares immediately straightened, his eyes fixed on their burdens.
"The House of Stolas grimoires – are they all accounted for?"
"All of them, servant of Bael." Paimon confirmed, his voice carrying across the space with quiet authority. He held up Octavia's grimoire while Beleth displayed Octavian's and few others, including Sitri's.
"Well, well... I owe Vine some souls. I was certain neither of you would return. Either our dear Paimon would get... distracted by his late queen's remains, or our brave cat would flee at the first sign of trouble." A harsh laugh erupted from Purson – the crueler King of the four. His face then twisted into a mocking sneer. "Tell me, Paimon, did you at least blow a kiss goodbye this time to your wife's dry face?"
"I look forward to watching you die..." Paimon replied without emotion, his attention already shifting to Agares. "The grimoires, Duke Agares. Shall we proceed?"
"Yes! Enough posturing!" Queen Viném's low growl cut through them. "I want to be Arsina already!!"
"Patience. None of you are yet worthy of Bael's power." Agares swept across the gathered demons. "The Book of Solomon remains lost to us, and until it is found, certain... assurances must be made. I require a pledge from each of you. A binding oath that you will continue Bael's great work. The consequences of betrayal..." His aged features twisted into something altogether more threatening, "Will be most severe."
King Balam was the first to step forward, bowing his head "I pledge myself to Bael's vision. Such is the power of Bael."
"My forces shall serve his purpose. Such is the power of Bael." Queen Viném followed, her serpentine lower half coiling tightly, faking her loyalty of course.
"My resources are his resources..." King Zagan declared, straightening from his casual pose. "Such is the power of Bael."
"My loyalty is unwavering. Such is the power of Bael." Beleth, still clutching the book, said somewhat weakly.
"My strength shall serve his cause. Such is the power of Bael." King Purson honoured it.
Only Paimon remained silent, his form still as stone, his grip on Octavia's grimoire betraying nothing of his thoughts. The absence of his voice hung in the air like a drawn blade, though Agares made no comment on his silence. The ancient duke's eyes, however, lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary. All eyes then turned to Paimon, with the ethereal demon stood motionless.
"Your pledge, King Paimon," Agares' commanded, his staff tapping against the ground with deliberate emphasis. "We await your words."
Paimon's glanced at the Purson, who smirked mockingly back, before returning his state at Agares, deciding to just do it anyway.
"I pledge myself to continue the legacy of both Mighty Ars Belial and Ars Bael, Duke Agares." Paimon declared, his tone shown neither warmth nor malice. "For their wisdom guides me."
A ripple of murmurs passed through the assembled Kings. Even Beleth's ears twitched with uncertainty. Agares himself narrowed his eyes, studying Paimon with the careful scrutiny of one who had witnessed countless centuries of political maneuvering. After a long moment, a thin smile crossed his weathered features.
"How fascinating," The Duke mused, his staff tracing patterns in the dust at his feet. "To venerate both our greatest teachers... I admire your devotion to our history, Paimon. Though some might question the wisdom of dividing one's loyalties. But have it your way. We cannot afford to delay ourselves with philosophical debates. The stars will not wait for our convenience."
The ancient demon's form seemed to grow more substantial as Duke approached the pyramid's sealed entrance. The Staff of Ars Bael began to pulse with corrupted energy, shadows writhing along its length like living things.
The staff's crystal head blazed with dark fire as Agares began to chant in a language older than Hell itself. The magical barrier that had protected the Great Pyramid for millennia began to respond, ancient sigils appearing along its surface like cracks in reality. With a final, thunderous word, Agares struck his staff against the ground. The barrier shattered with a sound like breaking glass, fragments of pure magic dissipating into Hell's crimson sky. The obsidian entrance stood open for the first time since Belial himself was sealed.
("The Ancient Ars Goetia (Theurgia) - Ars Belial's Main Theme)
"The Great Pyramid awaits." Agares announced, his aged form showing no sign of strain despite the immense magical working he had just performed.
One by one, the Kings and Queen of Ars Goetia stepped forward, each clutching their retrieved grimoires. Paimon was the last to move, drifting forward with royal dignity. As he passed into the pyramid's shadow, the astronomical markings on Octavia's grimoire seemed to pulse in response to something deep within the ancient structure.
The entrance corridor opened into a realm of impossible grandeur. Unlike the modest chambers of Stolas' tomb, the interior of Belial's Great Pyramid defied mortal comprehension...in fact, it even outshone the Seven Deadly Kings own palaces. The ceiling soared hundreds of feet overhead, supported by columns. Each column bore intricate hieroglyphs that told the story of Belial's conquest of Hell, his transformation of the Proto-Inferno into a realm of Ars Goetia.
The assembled nobility's footsteps echoed across floors of dusty black marble, each tile inlaid with gold in patterns that formed massive magical circles. Above them, countless bridges of crystallized hellfire spanned the vast space, connecting different levels and chambers like a web. The very architecture seemed to pulse with lingering power, as though Belial's presence still permeated even today...
Agares led them deeper, his staff occasionally tapping against specific tiles, causing ripples of ancient magic to spread across the floor.
"Look and Behold: the burial chambers of lesser nobility lie beyond those archways." He gestured to a series of grandiose entrances along the walls. "Ten thousand of Belial's most loyal servants rest here, undisturbed."
"Unlike our family tombs..." Queen Viném growled with disgust. If her time will come to die, she sure as shit will build a much greater pyramid than this.
They passed through a grand ceremonial hall where massive statues of demon lords knelt in eternal reverence, their faces carved with expressions of absolute devotion. Each statue clutched actual weapons and artifacts of power—gifts buried with their owners, untouched by millennia.
"The Hall of Champions. Each statue bearing the actual soul of Belial's greatest warriors." Agares told them, guiding them through the empty hall.
"Such power...the magic here feels different." Purson admired.
"Because it is pure, Purson. Untainted since Belial's passing." Paimon spoke suddenly.
"Not anymore, Paimon...not anymore" Agares whispered, going silent once more.
The group emerged into a vast circular chamber that served as the heart of the pyramid. Here, the ceiling opened to reveal multiple levels ascending toward the pyramid's peak. Countless sarcophagi lined the walls of each level, arranged in precise geometric patterns that formed one massive magical array.
"The Spiral of Ascension." Agares announced, his aged voice holding easily in the perfect acoustics of the chamber. "Each level represents a rank within Belial's hierarchy. The higher the floor, the more significant the occupant was."
They began their ascent via a grand staircase that spiraled along the chamber's wall. The steps themselves were carved from a single piece of obsidian, each one bearing the name and deeds of a fallen Theurgia noble in gold inlay. The higher they climbed, past levels devoted to scholars, generals, starseers, and nomarchs. Each floor told its own story through elaborate murals and inscriptions, chronicling the achievements of those who rested there.
"How much magic did Belial pour into this place?" Balam observed, his bestial nostrils flaring.
"Everything he had. We don't call him Mighty Belial for nothing, Balam." Agares replied solemnly. "His final gift to those who served him faithfully. Perfect preservation, perfect peace...as it should be." The ancient duke's eyes grew distant. "Or so Belial said..."
They reached a level near the pyramid's apex where the preservation spells were so dense they manifested as visible currents of energy flowing through the air. Here, the sarcophagi were spaced further apart, each one a masterwork of magical craftsmanship.
"The Viziers. Those who stood closest to Belial himself." Paimon murmured as he recognized names and sigils. Much younger Paimon knew and saw them alive a long time ago...
"And above are his nomarchs who couldn't afford to build their tombs for themselves." Agares raised his staff, its crystal head glowing with purpose. "We're close. The sacred chamber lies just ahead—the final resting place of Mighty Belial himself."
One by one, they followed, leaving behind the Belial's chosen dead. The magic grew stronger with each step, until it became almost difficult to move against the current of pure power flowing down from above. The final doorway opened into a chamber that defied comprehension—a space so vast it seemed to exist in defiance of the pyramid's external dimensions. Where Stolas' burial chamber had been impressive, this was divine. The ceiling soared into darkness so absolute it might have been the void between stars, broken only by a singular shaft of eternal light that fell upon a distant dais.
"Impossible," Viném breathed, her serpentine form coiling in shock. "The chamber... it's the size of."
"A city..." Paimon finished, his ethereal form pulsing with recognition. "Belial would accept nothing less."
The chamber stretched beyond what their eyes could comprehend, its boundaries lost in perpetual shadow. A single path, wide enough for ten demons to walk abreast, extended before them. It bridged an expanse that dropped away into darkness on either side, leading toward a stepped pyramid that rose from the chamber's center. Atop this inner pyramid, bathed in that eternal shaft of light, rested Belial's sarcophagus with the obelisk.
But it was what lay below that struck them all to silence. Stretching into the darkness, arranged in perfect formation, stood... rested an army of the dead. Countless rows of Goetia skeletal warriors in armor and khupesh swords lay dead for eternity, with no one mummified...just skeleton bodies lay at rest. Cruel as it seems to be, Theurgia was a much different era for Ars Goetia. Back then, to die alongside their Ars was such an honor...and privilege. Hence every soldier, every officer—they chose to be interred with Mighty Belial.
"How many?" Beleth's eyes swept across the vast formation. At first glance, even Ars Bael didn't have many legions under his hand...
"Hundreds of thousands...maybe more." Agares explained, gesturing them to follow. "The entire military might of Theurgia assembled one final time for eternal guard duty."
Once more they began their procession down the central path, their footsteps echoing in perfect acoustics. On either side, the army stood in silent witness. Cavalry units mounted on preserved skeletal hellsteeds. Rows of archers with bows. Siege crews beside their war machines, forever ready to rain destruction upon their master's enemies. Each soldier wore armor of gold usekh collar, decorated with symbols of their units and personal achievements, with a death mask covering their skull face. And of course the marvel of Theurgia of that time—war chariots.
As they neared the central pyramid, details became clearer. Each level was carved with scenes from Belial's conquests, battles, and moments of triumph for Ars Goetia. The stories wrapped around the structure in a continuous narrative, telling the history of Hell's greatest ruler in images of gold and might. They climbed in silence, the grimoires in their possession humming with increasing intensity as they neared the summit. The eternal light grew stronger, not painful but present, like the divine judgment.
At last, they reached the top. Here, on a platform large enough to host a royal court, stood Belial's sarcophagus. It dwarfed those of lesser nobles, a masterwork of artistry and magic that captured the essence of the absolute ruler of Ars Goetia. The figure carved upon its lid showed Belial not as he appeared in death, but as he was remembered—perfect, divine, eternal.
https://www.deviantart.com/yliade/art/Ra-Egyptian-Gods-753997338Art Source:
And behind the sarcophagus was obelisk that proclaimed the final words of Belial to Ars Goetia
"Hail to the mighty vassal who stand before me, you who stand before me, you who will stand watch over me for all eternity. For I, Belial, Lord and Ars of Goetia, will awaken to command you in the true paradise that awaits us. Hail to the Grand-Vizier and Nomarchs who stand sentinel beside the monument. Hail to the commanders of my army, leading forth your regiments to join me in eternity. Hail to the warriors of my legions; make ready your weapons to fill the air with the sound of your worship. Your standards are pleasing to my sight and that of the Ars Goetia. See how the light of Heaven shines upon them. Remember them gleaming this day, as you enter the darkness of the Hell. Fear not what we must do, for we are the glory of Ars Goetia and we shall rise again to fulfil our manifest destiny of ruling this afterlife."
"There are great deeds that remain undone, enemies yet to conquer and true raptures yet to rejoice in. So, as it is written, so shall it be done. I, Belial-Ra, have proclaimed it -- let none dare oppose my will! "
All of the Kings bowed in front of their ancient sovereign in his honor, for they were mere lesser nobility of that time, never had a chance to fight alongide Belial when Vicarian Hellhounds invaded. Now all of them bear the legacy of Ars Belial in some capacity all that time...and now it's time for them to honour his legacy by becoming next Ars.
"Oh, Mighty Belial, The Great Ars of Goetia, Supreme Ruler of the Infernal Land, Master of the Seventy-Two Pillars, Conqueror of the Proto-Inferno, and many-many-more..." Agares lowered his staff, his ancient voice growing heavy with something like grief...or mocking disappointment. "Even in death, his might remains undiminished. None since have dared to claim even a fraction of his glory. How far we have fallen from such greatness – we who once ruled through power absolute, now reduced to playing political games in the shadows of his legacy. The mighty have indeed fallen, my fellow nobles. Look upon his works, you who would claim to rule, and despair at how far we have strayed from his vision of absolute dominion."
"Why are we conducting this ceremony here, nya?" Beleth's voice shown edge of impatience, his tail lashing against the star-metal steps. "Shouldn't we be in Bael's chamber if we're to receive his power?"
A dark chuckle escaped Agares, the sound echoing unnaturally across the vast chamber. The ancient duke turned slowly, his staff casting long shadows across the platform. "Such impatience, Beleth. But I suppose the time for pretense has passed."
The shift in Agares's demeanor was subtle yet profound. His aged form seemed to straighten, shadows gathering around him like a cloak. The crystal atop his staff pulsed with sickly purple light, casting the assembled nobles in an otherworldly glow.
"Ars Bael had no intention of simply... sharing his power with any demon who happens to wear a crown," Agares's voice took on a clinical detachment that was somehow more terrifying than any threat. "Instead, you shall all participate in a mutual ritual. Those whose spirits prove weakest will be consumed by Bael's essence. The strongest among you – the one truly worthy – shall emerge as the new Ars."
Indeed, that soured mood, horror and concerns spreading through the assembled nobility like ice through their veins, with the exception of Paimon, who felt it will end that way. Purson's faces cycled through expressions of horror while Queen Viném contorted in growing rage.
"Total bullshit, nya!" Beleth spat, backing away from the group. His feline form bristled with fury and fear. "I didn't agree to some mutual suicide session! I'm leaving – let the rest of you destroy yourselves if you so wish!"
He turned toward the steps, his movements quick and precise. For a moment, it seemed he might actually escape. Then blast came without warning – a surge of corrupted magic that struck Beleth squarely between his shoulder blades. The force of it lifted him off his feet, his body illuminated by terrible purple energy. His scream cut off abruptly as the magic tore through him, leaving nothing but a rapidly dissolving corpse.
Beleth's skeletal remains tumbled over the edge of the platform, scattering the skeletal warriors below. The impact sent ancient bones flying in all directions, the perfect formations disrupted for the first time in centuries....Belial would haven pissed.
"Poor thing...one should never turn their back on their betters." Agares remarked, lowering his still-smoking staff. His gaze swept across the remaining nobles, who had instinctively moved away from both him and each other. "Now then, shall we proceed with the ritual? Or does anyone else wish to... withdraw their participation?"
No one even acknowledged Beleth's passing. His death meant one less competitor, nothing more. Only Paimon somewhat shown a moment of acknowledgment for yet another noble's fall.
"Your grimoires, then." Agares commanded, extending his hand. "All of them."
One by one, they surrendered their collected tomes. Purson relinquished his stack with obvious reluctance. Queen Balam practically threw hers at the duke's feet. King Viném's serpentine form coiled tightly as he handed over his collection. Paimon placed Octavia's grimoire last, his touch lingering for just a moment on its astronomical markings.
"Arrange yourselves around the sarcophagus," Agares instructed, beginning to lay the grimoires in a precise pattern on the star-metal floor.
The nobles took their positions, each maintaining careful distance from the others. Using the collected grimoires as focal points, Agares began to trace an elaborate symbol across the floor – the mark of Ars Bael rendered in swooping lines of purple energy. The pattern spread between and around them, connecting each noble to the central design with threads of corrupted magic.
"Let us begin," Agares intoned, raising his staff high.
The crystal head blazed with sickly light as he began to chant in a language that hurt to hear. The very air seemed to curdle around them, reality bending under the weight of Bael's power. Paimon felt it first as a whisper – then a hundred whispers, a thousand, until his mind was filled with an cacophony of voices speaking in tongues no being was meant to comprehend. His ethereal form wavered as foreign presences pressed against the boundaries of his consciousness, seeking entrance.
Let us taste your essence...
Your power belongs to Bael...
Submit... submit... submit..
The whispers grew more insistent, more demanding as it went further. Paimon could feel something fundamental being drawn out of him, like thread being slowly unspooled from his very being. Each moment brought fresh waves of agony as Bael's corrupted magic probed deeper into his essence.
Through eyes clouded with pain, he watched his fellow nobles suffer similarly. Queen Balam's bestial form thrashed against invisible bonds. Purson's face contorted in agony and Viném's serpentine body twisted in ways that defied anatomy. Ten minutes stretched into an eternity of torment. The whispers became screams, the probing became violation, and still Agares's chanting continued, rising in intensity with each passing moment.
Viném broke first.
"No... NO!" The serpentine queen's voice rose to an impossible pitch. Her body began to collapse in on itself, scales falling away to reveal bones that immediately began to blacken. "I cannot... I will not..."
But there was no choice. As her physical form dissolved into a twisted skeleton, Viném's spirit was torn free – a writhing mass of ethereal energy that screamed as it was pulled toward some distant point, presumably where Bael's true form waited.
"The first fall...," Agares announced, momentarily pausing his chant. "But this is merely the beginning. Bael's power demands proof of worth through suffering. These moments of agony?" His aged features twisted into something like ecstasy. "They are but a prelude to the true torment that awaits. Such is the power of Ars Bael."
Paimon's ethereal form flickered violently as another wave of torment washed through him. Through the haze of agony, he observed Agares's obvious delight in their suffering. The ancient duke's face was transformed by a terrible joy as he conducted their torture like a maestro before his orchestra of pain.
"How unsubtle you've become, old servant of Bael." Paimon thought through the cacophony of whispers in his mind. "Was there ever a time when you practiced your cruelty with more finesse?"
The corrupted magic pulled at his essence, trying to unravel the very fabric of his being. Each probe felt like celestial fire, each whisper like needles of ice through his consciousness. But even as his form threatened to dissolve under the assault, Paimon's will remained unbroken.
He had endured the Fall from Heaven.
He had survived the Proto-Inferno.
He had weathered the loss of his beloved Octavia.
This... this was merely another trial to overcome.
Paimon refused to break.
The fate of the Ars Goetia hung by a thread in these very moment. Everything he had planned, every scheme he had set in motion over centuries – it all came down to this test of will. The corruption of Bael could tear away his power, could shred his essence to fragments, but it could not touch the magical core of his determination.
Let Bael's essence test me, Paimon's thoughts crystallized into pure resolve even as another wave of agony crashed through him. Let his power probe the depths of my being. He will find no weakness here. The Ars Goetia needs its true ruler, and he have waited far too long to falter now.
He won't fail...not this time.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle.
[6 hours Later]
Nothing happened in Limbo for the rest of day. In the depths of deep night, Octavia lay peacefully, curled beneath her silk sheets. The young Marquise's usual furrowed brow had smoothed in slumber, her face serene in a way it rarely was during waking hours. Her breathing came slow and steady, occasionally accompanied by soft, contented sounds that would have mortified her had she been awake to hear them. All thanks to Olivia's efforts.
Even in sleep, she maintained a slight curl to her position, as if her body remembered the comfort of being nestled against Olivia's softer feathers. The evening's confessions and intimacies had left her with an unusual sense of peace, allowing her to finally surrender to genuine rest rather than the fitful slumber that typically plagued her nights. In these quiet hours, with her guard completely lowered, Octavia looked less like the heir to House Goetia and more like the young owl demon she truly was - vulnerable, peaceful, and momentarily unburdened by responsibilities.
*Phone Buzz*
Alas, some serene moments will have to end one day and hence, the gentle buzzing of her phone pierced through Octavia's dreamless sleep, its screen casting a harsh glow across her face in the darkness of her chambers. The time displayed read 3:00 AM, and beneath it, a message from Amy demanded her immediate attention...
@HawkF4re: Good Early Morning, Via :). Meet me at the crossroads nearest to the castle. Come alone and avoid drawing attention. I'll pick you up.
Octavia stared at the message, her mind still clouded with sleep as she processed Amy's words. She sat up slowly as she adjusted to the pre-dawn chill.
"Always at the most inconvenient times..." Octavia muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The polished floor felt cold beneath her feet as she moved quietly through her chambers, gathering the essential items she'd need. Her armor, commissioned by Phenex, lay waiting in its stand. She donned it quite easily, without any help.
Andras' sword came next. The blade had already tasted blood on their journey here - she hoped it wouldn't need to again tonight. Finally, she retrieved Barbatos' Goetian flintlock pistol with bag of ammo, checking its mechanisms with careful precision before securing it within easy reach. The weapon felt foreign in her hands, but in these uncertain times, she couldn't afford to be particular about her means of defense. Plus, it's the best as you can get.
When she was prepared to leave, Octavia caught her reflection in the chamber's tall mirror. The young owl demon who stared back at her seemed different from the one who had arrived in Limbo - harder, perhaps, or simply more aware of she was. Octavia barely resembled the sheltered princess who had once hidden in her father's library. Now a somewhat a woman who searched purpose here in realm of Hell...
"Well, here we go again." she whispered to her reflection, before leaving her room.
The path to the castle's side entrance required Octavia to pass by Olivia's chambers. She hesitated at the door, knowing she should continue directly to her meeting with Amy, yet something compelled her to check on her Lady-in-Waiting one final time. With utmost care, she eased the door open, mindful of the hinges that might betray her presence.
Moonlight spilled through the chamber windows, illuminating Olivia's sleeping form. The Lady-in-Waiting lay in peaceful repose, her nightgown having shifted during her slumber to reveal more than propriety would typically allow, not that Octavia cared for she saw Olivia naked before. But the sight caused Octavia to pause, her breath catching slightly. Even in sleep, Olivia maintained an air of elegance and beauty.
Octavia moved silently across the room, her armor carefully adjusted to prevent any betraying sounds. She reached for the doorknob but found herself stopping, turning back to gaze at Olivia's peaceful nature. Doubt crept into her mind – was she doing the right thing, leaving without a word? These meeting with Amy to save the city, the secrets she kept from everyone, even those closest to her... it all felt uncomfortably familiar, reminiscent of patterns she had once resented in her father.
Yet Amy had earned her trust . If the President of Ars Goetia deemed this level of secrecy necessary, Octavia had to believe there was good reason for it. Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave Olivia so exposed to the night's chill.
Gentle as possible, she retrieved the displaced blanket and carefully drew it over Olivia's body. The fabric settled softly, providing warmth and modesty to the sleeping owl demon. Unable to resist a final gesture of affection, Octavia leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to Olivia's cheek.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered, her voice barely disturbing the air between them. The words revealed everything she couldn't express – gratitude for the comfort, the understanding, the moments of genuine affection in a afterlife that so often demanded artifice.
A subtle smile graced Olivia's face, as if some part of her consciousness registered the gesture of care. Octavia backed away slowly, committing the peaceful scene to memory before finally slipping out of the room, closing the door with practiced silence.
The corridors of Marchosias' castle were eerily silent as Octavia made her way through them, her steps carefully measured to minimize noise. Making her way through the castle's shadowed corridors required all of Octavia's accumulated knowledge of stealth, something tha t she wasn't that bad. She carefully timed her movements to avoid the Hellhound patrols. Of course hired bikers are much sloppier than professional Ars Goeitan guards but still she make sure she could not be seen. She avoided the main hallways where guards might be posted, instead utilizing the servants' passages.
But so far so good, even the courtyard was nearly empty, either recovering from the party or just Aldecaldos being bad with guard duty in general...or that Octavia was nearly difficult to notice for how much her feathers blend in with the night. At any rate, she get herself closer to the exit.
As she approached the castle's entrance, a familiar silhouette emerged from the shadows, noticing Octavia immediately. But thankfully it was Loona for she stood near the wall, the ember at the end of her cigarette cast a faint red glow across her face, highlighting the weariness in her expression.
"Bit late for a walk, isn't it?" Loona's tone is always with its usual sardonic edge, though something in her tone suggested she was seeking conversation rather than confrontation.
Octavia paused, studying her friend's posture – the slight slump of her shoulders, the way she seemed to be using the cigarette as much for something to do with her hands as for the nicotine.
"I could say the same to you. Shouldn't you be resting?"
"Tried. Can't make my brain shut up long enough to actually sleep." Loona took another long drag, the ember flaring briefly. "Keep thinking about... you know."
"The incident with Marchosias?" Octavia kept her voice gentle, free of judgment.
Loona's ears flattened slightly against her head, confirmation enough without words. She inhaled from her cigarette again, the smoke wreathing around her head like a troubled halo.
"What would you do... if you were in my fur?"
"Be honest with him..." Octavia responded without hesitation. "Tell him you're sorry and that you weren't thinking clearly. Sometimes the simplest approach is the best one."
"Yep...simplest approach." Loona's response was quiet, almost lost in another exhale of smoke.
"Come on. Don't torture yourself over this, Loona." Octavia moved closer, careful to stay upwind of the cigarette smoke. "Everyone makes mistakes – you, me, everyone. What matters is how we make amends. Just talk to him. That's all you need to do."
Loona nodded slowly, seeming to find some measure of comfort in Octavia's words. She crushed out her cigarette against the windowsill, dropping the butt into a pocket rather than littering the castle grounds. "So what's your story then? Why are you sneaking around in full armor at this hour?"
"Need some fresh air. All the magic in this place... gives me headaches sometimes. You know how it is." Octavia felt dificult of her deception as she formulated her response. The lie felt bitter on her tongue, especially after advocating honesty to Loona, but some secrets needed to be kept. Even from friends.
A soft chuckle escaped Loona's lips, though it carried more understanding than mockery.
"Keep your secrets then," Loona said, giving Octavia a knowing look. "Can't blame you – we've all got things we'd rather keep close to the chest." She straightened from wall. "Just... be careful out there, yeah? Whatever you're up to."
"I will..." Octavia promised. She offered Loona a small nod, as a thanks for allowing her to go freely.
Bidding farewell to Loona, Octavia made her way through the castle's exit with Marchosias' fortress loomed behind her like a silent guardian. Just like Amy to her, the crossroads ahead lay empty and still, bathed in the ethereal light of Hell's constellations. She positioned herself in the shadows of a gnarled tree, her armor allowing her to blend seamlessly with the darkness while maintaining a clear view of all approaching paths.
The minutes stretched like hours as she waited, each distant sound drawing her attention – the cry of someone, the whisper of wind through dead branches near her, the city itself buzzling with Night life. Ironic at it was, Octavia never liked night time, especially in the streets of Pentagram or Imp City as sometimes it was an death warrant for some unfortunate passer-by. Hence, her hand never strayed far from Barbatos' flintlock, though she hoped she wouldn't need it.
The soft purr of an approaching engine finally broke through the night's ambiance. A sleek black vehicle materialized from the darkness, its polished surface seeming to absorb the starlight rather than reflect it. The car moved with swift motion, coming to a silent stop at the edge of the road.
The passenger door swung open with practiced precision, revealing Amy. The President of Ars Goetia had traded her usual formal attire for something more suited to clandestine operations – a combat-ready jacket adorned with subtle protective magical sigils, its material designed to deflect both physical and magical attacks. Her expression carried its usual calm authority for a President, though there was an urgency in her eyes that Octavia had rarely seen.
"Hop in. We have much to do, and time is not our ally tonight."
Octavia cast one final glance back at Marchosias' castle, thoughts of Olivia's peaceful form briefly flashing through her mind, before sliding into the vehicle's dark interior, the door closed behind her with a soft click.
Shifting the engine and pressing the gas, Amy drove them away from the castle, with the sleek vehicle glided through New Limbo's streets, its engine barely whispering as Amy navigated the labyrinthine thoroughfares. The city's eternal twilight cast shifting shadows through the tinted windows, while neon signs and magical illumination painted abstract patterns across the car's interior. Neither demon spoke at first.
Amy's fingers drummed a subtle rhythm against the steering wheel as they passed beneath one of the massive archways that separated the city's districts before finally breaking the awkward silence.
"Sleep well, hope?" She finally asked, her tone casual despite the late hour and circumstances.
Octavia adjusted her position, the subtle clink of her armor against the leather seat breaking the car's silence. she replied, her voice carrying a warmth that wasn't lost on her companion.
"It was... worth it." A slight smile tugged at her beak, cherishing that cuddle with Olivia in memory. The young Goetian noble shifted in her seat, turning slightly toward Amy. "How are things on your end?"
Amy's expression hardened almost imperceptibly.
"Militech..." Amy practically spat the name, diplomatic restraint cracking slightly. "Do you know how much we've invested in them? How much they've invested in us?" She guided the car around a sharp corner, the movement smooth despite her evident frustration. "And still, they prove themselves incompetent at every turn. The amount of resources we've poured into their operations, and what do they do? They failled to capture "Hellhound Hooligans" as they labbeled it." A heavy sigh escaped her as she continued, "That incident with your Hellhound friend just made everything exponentially worse."
"That wasn't Loona's fault," Octavia interjected, her protective instinct flaring. "She couldn't have known—"
"I know, I know, Via." Amy raised one hand from the steering wheel in a placating gesture. "I'm not laying blame at her feet. The whole situation was a shitshow waiting to happen, with or without her involvement. However, Marchosias wrote me an message about what your Hound friend told him. His concerns about I.R.A. presence within the city walls... those have my full attention. In fact, that's precisely why we're having this conversation at such an unsociable hour."
"We're not about to bust some illegal operation are we, Amy?" Octavia somehow felt unease.
"Opposite..." Amy sighed as she guided the vehicle onto a less travelled street, the buildings pressing closer on either side. The light of the streets caught in Amy's eyes as she glanced briefly at Octavia. "Your friend may have uncovered something far more serious than even you realized. And if my suspicions are correct, we're going to need every advantage we can get to handle what's coming."
"I assume you have a plan?" Octavia ventured, adjusting her position to better observe their surroundings through the tinted windows.
Amy's response was a measured sigh as she guided the vehicle into a secluded square, where the buildings seemed to lean inward. She brought the car to a precise stop beside a peculiarly out-of-place sight: an elegantly crafted vendor's carriage, its polished wood and brass fittings gleaming despite the location's general gloom.
"I do...and wait here, okay? Just few minutes." Amy instructed, her tone brooking no argument. She emerged from the vehicle and approached to the carriage.
Behind the carriage's counter stood a figure who seemed to belong to an entirely different era – a stag demon gentleman in his fifties, impeccably dressed in a manner reminiscent of the 1890s. His attire, from the perfectly pressed waistcoat to the immaculately maintained pocket watch chain, spoke of someone who understood the style of long gone times.
"Ah, my dear Amy!" The Stag Demon greeted, expressing an warm timbre of an experienced showman. "What a delightful surprise at this unconventional hour! Might I interest you in some of our latest arrivals? Direct from Heaven's own textile districts – the craftsmanship is simply divine, if you'll pardon the pun, ha-ha!" His smile carried genuine warmth, though his eyes held the sharp intelligence of someone who had mastered the art of surviving in Hell's unforgiving landscape.
"You don't have to be that discreet, mister." A knowing smirk played across Amy's features. She leaned casually against the carriage's counter, her posture relaxed but her eyes alert. "I trust our mutual friends have been in touch?"
The vendor's demeanor shifted subtly as he cast a practiced glance around the square, the movement so natural it could have been mistaken for simply admiring the architecture.
"Indeed they have." He responded, maintaining his genteel manner while lowering his voice. "They left a small token of their consideration – just a simple piece of paper, mind you. A number, along with a rather dramatic phrase: 'Blood of Inferno.' They suggested you might find it useful to send that particular phrase to the provided number. I understand you should expect a call thereafter." His well-manicured hands moved with practiced efficiency as he withdrew a folded note.
Amy grabbed the paper and checked what he meant, slowly nodding that it's everything she needed from him.
"So simple, huh?"
"Oh, you don't say, my dear!" The Vendor said with same flourish he might use to display a fine piece of merchandise. "I must say, their taste in melodramatic passwords hasn't improved over the years."
"That they do..." Amy put it inside her pocket, nodding in thanks. "Please doing business, Mr. Hazbin,"
Back in the vehicle, Octavia more or less watched them, confused from that guy and his theatrics, especially when he bowed, tipping his hat off in gentle manner as Amy made her way back to car. Curiosity was palpable as she settled into the driver's seat.
"Who was that?" Octavia asked, her eyes still fixed on the gentleman and his curious carriage.
"Just a middleman," Amy replied, tone measured as she withdrew her phone. Her fingers moved swiftly across the screen, inputting the number and the cryptic phrase. The soft click of the message being sent seemed unnaturally loud in the car's interior. Without further comment, she started the engine, and the vehicle pulled away from the square, leaving the mysterious Mr. Hazbin and his heavenly wares behind.
The streets of New Limbo passed by in a blur of neon and shadow as they drove, but Octavia's mind remained fixed on the enigmatic encounter they'd just experienced.
"Okay, Amy. Seriously, what exactly is going on?" She finally asked, her voice cutting through the tension that had settled between them.
Amy's hands tightened almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel, might be an regret...might been a acceptance. It was difficult to tell.
"I need you to trust me, Octavia." Amy paused, choosing her next words with evident care. "I'm more desperate than I initially believed. Far more desperate...I made a deal with the I.R.A."
"YOU WHAT?!" The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Octavia's breath caught in her throat, her beak parting to release what would have surely been an outraged cry, but Amy's hand shot up in a sharp, commanding gesture.
"No, Via! Just shut up and listen to me!" Amy commanded, the steel of voice from someone who had made far too many difficult decisions to be questioned now. "Look I know it sounds insane and I know how you feel about it. But please before you react, you need to understand the full scope of what we're dealing with. The I.R.A. has accumulated a massive stockpile of food supplies – enough to keep New Limbo fed for at least three months. And thanks to some careful negotiations through the Sixty-Sixty Sixth Street Gang, I managed to establish a deal."
"What deal, Amy?" Octavia hissed, expecting more than this vague explanations.
In this case, Amy reached into her jacket, withdrawing a small USB drive to reveal it.
"This contains the locations of every Slave Plantation in Ars Colonia. Every. Single. One. All we need to do is make the exchange at the meeting point, and the deal is done."
"What for?"
"Because slaves are easily swayed to fight their master off, Octavia. Principles of I.R.A's, after all."
"Great, so we're basically allow them to grew in numbers. Is this really worth it, Amy?" Octavia's voice wavered between disbelief and concern. "They're our enemies. Everything they've done to us is-"
"You need to understand the Art of Greed, my dear," Amy interjected, her tone taking on an almost instructional quality. "In any war or conflict. Business comes first, no matter what. I.R.A may boast how they're fighting for equality for all and all that shit meanwhile they ready to make trade deals with same oppressors they promise to end. In the end, they want something from us, we want something from them. Besides, I seem to recall a certain young noble sitting near me expressing rather... strong opinions about those plantations. Wouldn't you like to see them burn?"
"Well...yeah?" Octavia didn't want to sound like she is sympathizing with rebels.
"Then what's the problem?"
"The problem is that you making a deal with the enemy who is about to siege the city, Amy!"
"Compromises had to be made. Beside, we kill two rabbits in one stone. New Limbo will prepared and civilians will not starve. Meanwhile, Ars Colonia will loose the millions from disrupted slave industry."
"I hope so..." Octavia released a heavy sigh, her feathers rustling with barely contained tension. Clearly Amy went far enough to just turn and leave. But again, If Amy bellieve this will work then...more power. But Octavia quickly loosing her trust in the young President. Everything feels...vague and strange
"Just don't make me regret this, Amy."
"Oh, you won't. At least... not in the long run." Amy assured her. For a brief moment, the eternal starlight of Hell caught her expression in a way that revealed something else entirely – a smile that held too many teeth, too many layers of hidden meaning.
Just in time, the car came to a stop in the Industrial Sector, the massive refinery towers looming overhead. Steam and smoke perpetually billowed from their heights, creating an artificial twilight. The acrid scent of industrial processes permeated the air, mixing with the inherent sulfurous atmosphere of Hell itself. A figure stood atop one of the towers, their silhouette barely visible against the smog-filled sky. They observed the vehicle's arrival with calculated interest before vanishing from view, their departure as silent as their vigil had been.
"We wait here, VIa. They'll contact us when it's time to proceed to the train depot for the exchange." She settled back in her seat, the leather creaking softly beneath her weight.
Octavia offered a slow nod, her eyes scanning their surroundings, a habit ingrained from recent experiences. The minutes stretched between them, filled only by the distant clanking of machinery and the occasional hiss of releasing pressure from the refinery's systems. After three minutes of silence, Octavia's voice emerged, soft but troubled.
"I'm not sure about any of this anymore."
"The deal?" Amy inquired, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
"Everything..." Octavia admitted, her gaze fixed on the industrial landscape before them. "From the moment I arrived to this Ring, it's been one continuous shitshow after another."
A low chuckle escaped Amy's throat, both amusement and understanding.
"When I first came to New Limbo as its major, this entire sector was nothing but a colonial settlement built around the ruins of Caldera." Her eyes took on a distant look, recalling past challenges. "We've come quite far since then."
"I can see how you managed it," Octavia observed, a slight edge to her voice. "Dealing with the criminal underground seems to come naturally to you."
"Sweetheart, I can assure you with absolute certainty that your father has engaged in his fair share of 'criminal activity.' Or did you think lending grimoires to non-Goetias was sanctioned by Ars Goetia?" Amy's response carried a sharp smile. She adjusted her position slightly. "But seriously, Via. I won't pretend I'm clean here for I done share of questionable deals. But at the end of the day, this will hurt the Ars Goetia far more than it will ever hurt you or me. Sometimes the most effective strikes come from criminal elements."
Octavia hummed thoughtfully, her eyes studying Amy's profile in the refinery's glow.
"Something on your mind?" Amy inquired, her attention still partially focused on their surroundings.
"Not really...I'm wondering why you're like this," Octavia said carefully, each word measured. "What shaped you into... who you are now?"
The question hung in the air between them. Amy's expression darkened, a scowl etching itself across her features as she stared through the windshield at the towering refineries beyond.
"The Ars Goetia changed me..." She finally responded, her voice carrying an edge that Octavia had never heard before. "Childhood trauma – isn't that how these stories always start?"
"What do you mean?" Octavia wondered, her armor creaking softly with the movement.
"Imagine everything you've ever known and loved being stripped away in an instant. Not by chance, not by fate, but by deliberate action." Amy's hands tightened on the steering wheel, though the car remained stationary. She turned to face Octavia, her eyes reflecting the eternal flames with an intensity that seemed to burn from within. "All because Ars Bael was searching for something he deemed more valuable than the lives of innocent demons."
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant industrial sounds of the refinery. When Amy continued, her voice had dropped to barely more than a whisper, yet each word carried the weight of decades of carefully contained fury.
"I was there, you know. When they killed my parents. I watched as Ars Goetia's forces executed them – not for any crime, not for any transgression, but simply because they were in the way of Bael's obsession."
And you don't forget this by mile...
Hell/The Blasphemy Ring/Ars Goetian Capital City of Lemegeton/The Castle of Ars Bael/
("Ars Goetia - Ars Bael Main Theme")
[18 Years Ago]
"Let me go!"
The screams of six-year-old Amy echoed through the dark corridors, her small form struggling against the iron grip of two Lemegeton Guards.
"Keep quiet, brat!" One guard growled, his grip tightening on her arm as they marched forward. The corridors seemed endless, each step taking them deeper into the heart of power that was Ars Goetia. Amy thrashed against their hold.
"My father is an Elector-Marquis! You can't handle me like this! He won't allow it!"
The guards exchanged glances but maintained their pace. Finally, they reached a set of towering doors, their surfaces carved with scenes from Hell's ancient history. They lifted the struggling child and threw her unceremoniously into the chamber beyond.
The Main Chamber of the Ars Goetian Electorate stretched before her, its ceiling lost in shadows despite the eternal flames that burned in ornate braziers along the walls. This was where the laws of Goetia were decided, where the most powerful demons gathered to shape the Ars Goetia as they fit.
The Electors sat in their designated positions, their presence commanding attention even in silence. Duke Astaroth occupied his seat with regal and authoritative bearing. Prince Sitri's bored eyes watched the proceedings with disinterest, while Count Morax was busy stamping the tax laws as per usual. President Marbas, a Hellhound, sat with crossed arms; of all, he was the one who felt unwelcome. But it was the presence of the Kings of Goetia that truly dominated the chamber. Among them, King Paimon sat on his throne, bored as Heaven.
The chamber's atmosphere shifted as attention turned to its center, where Marquis-Elector Kimaris and his wife stood bound in chains, their noble bearing undiminished despite their circumstances. When Kimaris saw Amy was brought here, it made him even more pissed and determined for justice.
"Let her go!" Kimaris's voice thundered through the chamber, his authority as an elector still evident even in chains. "My daughter has done nothing wrong! She's innocent in all this!"
"The decision to bring her here was not ours to make, Kimaris. We were commanded to do so." Count Morax's face shifted in apparent discomfort before settling on an expression of diplomatic neutrality.
"Lies!" Kimaris strained against his bonds, the chains crackling at his resistance. "You dare speak such falsehoods? Even a king wouldn't dare raise a hand against an elector without proper cause and procedure. Our position is protected by ancient law!"
"Perhaps, dear Kimaris. You should mind that it is not a King you face, but a Great and Terrible Ars."
There is an old saying: the only thing Ars Goetia noble fears is Ars himself...for the monster himself let it be known...
A voice emerged from behind the heavy curtains that shrouded the far end of the chamber, smooth and cultured yet carrying an undercurrent of cruel amusement. Duke Agares stepped partially into view...but it was what was behind him that brought everyone's attention.
The temperature in the chamber plummeted as a towering figure emerged from behind the curtain. Ars Bael's presence seemed to devour the very light of the eternal flames, his armor an abyss of darkness that absorbed all hope. The mask that covered his features was reminiscent of an ancient plague doctor's, but twisted into something far more sinister, with eyes that held the emptiness of the void itself. His very movement seemed to distort the reality around him, as if the laws of physics bent away in terror.
To this day, no one saw Ars Bael behind his mask. Only rumors and speculation. Some say he is the wound of the Stars, or Ars Goetian's emptiness incarnate. For what it's worth...dealing with Ars Bael is dealing with someone who is beyond being considered a "demon"...and that says something.
The assembled nobility, even the mighty King Paimon himself, rose and bowed deeply before the Ars of Goetia. Bael acknowledged none of them, his masked visage fixed upon Kimaris with the weight of inevitability. The silence that followed was more terrifying than any threat could have been.
"Your... Your Majesty?" Kimaris's voice wavered for the first time, horror creeping into his tone as he finally comprehended the full magnitude of his situation. "What is the meaning of this?"
Young Amy stood frozen, watching as her father—the powerful, untouchable Elector she had always known—seemed to shrink beneath Ars Bael's empty gaze. Duke Agares stepped forward, his ceremonial robes rustling against the marble floor. The eternal flames cast his shadow long across the chamber, though it paled in comparison to the void-like darkness that emanated from Ars Bael's presence.
"Traditionally...the Electorate handles matters of treason against Ars Goetia. It is our duty and our right." He paused, his eyes sweeping across the assembled nobility. "However, this matter transcends our usual procedures. This betrayal... is personal."
Ars Bael moved with unnatural fluidity, each step seeming to bend the very fabric of reality around him. The temperature continued to drop as he approached Kimaris and his wife, their chains rattling not from resistance but from their involuntary trembling. Young Amy watched in horror as her parents, both powerful demons in their own right, seemed to diminish before the overwhelming presence of the Ars of Goetia.
"The Book of Solomon..." When Bael spoke, his voice emerged as something ancient and terrible, like the death rattle of dying stars. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "You thought you could hide it from me, Kimaris?"
"...Be more specific, my Ars." Kimaris, for his credit, fought the fear to stand against the Death itself.
The mask of Bael turned slightly, its empty eye sockets somehow conveying an eternity of malevolent purpose. "I have ruled the seventy-two pillars since before your bloodline drew its first breath. I have witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations in Hell's expanse. Did you truly believe you could deceive the one who taught deception to the first demons?"
Kimaris raised his head, defiance blazing in his eyes despite the chains that bound him.
"You are nothing but a monster, Bael. An empty spirit wearing the flesh of authority, devouring everything in your path in your desperate search for the Devil's binding! You will be the doom of the Ars Goetia. That is why I hid the book far from Goetian eyes. No matter how strong your magic, no matter how deep your corruption reaches, the Notoria has ensured you'll never lay your cursed hands upon it. Solomon wills it, so it shall be done."
"Cultist!" Count Morax slammed his fist on the table. "Kimaris is a Solomonian follower!"
"Quiet, Morax." Agares warned, for he is one who at least will tell you to shut up. Ars Bael would have killed him immediately.
But Ars Bael remained motionless, the void-like emptiness of his mask revealing nothing. When he finally moved, it was with the deliberate grace of an apex predator.
"How amusing...to watch a servant play at being savior."
What happened next occurred with such swift brutality that many present would later struggle to describe it. Bael's form shifted, reality bending around him as he spun with impossible speed. His clawed hand, wreathed in shadows that seemed to devour light itself, plunged through Kimaris's chest.
The chamber erupted in chaos. Amy's scream of terror merged with her mother's wail of despair as they watched Kimaris's spirit being torn from his body. The process was horrifically visible—streams of ethereal essence flowing from his form into Bael's grasp, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell that collapsed to the marble floor with a hollow sound.
Even Paimon raised a trembling hand to his mouth, horror evident. The sight of Bael's power—this fundamental violation of a demon's very essence—never became easier to witness, no matter how many times one observed it.
The chamber grew deathly quiet save for the sobbing of young Amy and her mother. Bael stood over Kimaris's empty corpse, ethereal energies still swirling around his clawed hand. With deliberate slowness, he closed his fist. The spirit compressed, twisted, and was finally devoured into the void that was Ars Bael, leaving nothing behind but the memory of its light.
"As for you..." His mask turned toward Amy's mother, who remained frozen in horror, her chains rattling with her trembling. "You have my permission to die..."
Bael's voice resonated with casual cruelty as he raised his hand, dark energy coalescing around his fingers. The blast that followed was swift and merciless, reducing her physical form to nothing in an instant of searing darkness.
"MAMA-PAPA! Young Amy fell to her knees, her small frame wracked with sobs as she stared at the spaces where her parents had been moments before. The weight of her sudden orphaning seemed to crush down upon her shoulders, visible even to the assembled nobility who watched in stunned silence.
Bael's towering form approached the child, his presence casting her in shadow. The empty sockets of his mask regarded her with inhuman stillness. Everyone expected Bael to end her here and right now...he had done worse in his reign.
"Kill me too!" Amy screamed, her voice raw with grief and rage, onto him. "I don't want to live anymore! Just kill me!"
"That would be far too kind a punishment." Bael's response was simple. Without another word, he turned and glided toward the chamber's exit, Duke Agares falling into step behind his master like a shadow following the void.
The moment they departed, one of the handmaidens moved with surprising speed for one of her station. She reached Amy's side in an instant, gathering the sobbing child into her arms and turning her away from the remnants of her parents. Her arms wrapped around Amy like a protective shield, creating a small sanctuary of darkness where the child could hide from the horror she had witnessed.
"It will be okay…" A handmaiden whispered, her voice softened with genuine concern. "It will be okay; it will be okay; it will be okay..."
The words became a mantra, repeated over and over as she held the trembling child closer, trying to protect her from a reality that had already shattered beyond repair.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Industrial Sector
The memory faded, leaving only the sound of machinery from the refinery and the eternal flames of Hell's present day. Amy's hands remained tight on the steering wheel as she told her the entire story. The industrial haze outside seemed to mirror the darkness of her memories. Octavia sat in stunned silence, her eyes wide as she processed the horror of Amy's revelation. Words failed her...as horror shone. Octavia believed she had the most unhappy childhood in all of Goetia...how foolish she was.
"The girl you see before you died that day..." Amy said, empty. Her eyes remained fixed on the refinery towers beyond the windshield, their eternal flames reflecting in her gaze. "That's why I despise the Ars Goetia with every fiber of my being. They didn't just kill my parents—they took everything. My childhood, my innocence, my future... all sacrificed on the altar of Bael's obsession."
"I'm so sorry..." Octavia finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. The words felt inadequate against the magnitude of Amy's loss, yet they carried genuine empathy.
"I'm sorry too..." Amy's expression softened slightly as she turned to look at Octavia. She replied, the weight of unspoken implications hanging in her words. "For obvious reasons."
"But..." Octavia felt she could somehow...cheer her up. "Ars Bael is dead, Amy. Your parents are avenged in the end."
"It's not..." Amy slowly looked at her, hatred and fury shown.
"His death won't be enough for me..."
*Buzz*
The buzz of Amy's phone cut through the moment like a knife. The time for reflection had passed—now came the moment for action, it seemed. Amy immediately lifted the phone to her ear.
"Yes?" Her voice had shifted back to its professional timbre, all traces of earlier emotion carefully masked.
"Leave your vehicle outside and proceed to the train depot warehouse. Immediately." The line went dead before Amy could respond.
Amy lowered the phone slowly, her expression unreadable in the industrial half-light.
"Well...time is of the essence." She exhaled, reaching beneath her jacket. Her hand emerged with a blessed crafted pistol.
"Expect trouble?" Octavia nervously said, not liking that she also brought a weapon. Octavia only did it for precaution and a little bit of paranoia.
"No, unless they make it...." Amy commented to Octavia, though her eyes remained focused on the weapon's inspection. She then inserted the mag; it perfectly slid home with a decisive click. "Just stay calm. Keep your guard up, but don't make any sudden moves unless absolutely necessary. Don't even try to talk to them. Remember, we're here for business, nothing more and nothing less."
"Got it..." Octavia also checked her flintlock, making sure it's loaded. "Okay...let's roll then."
"Damn right, sis!" Amy offered a bump of fist.
Though Amy did somewhat make a few cracks on their trust, Octavia nevertheless returned the bro-fist. Amy's story did make Octavia understand her better. And no matter what, she will stand by Amy's side.
Leaving the car, The industrial haze outside their vehicle had thickened, as if Hell itself was providing cover for their clandestine meeting. In the distance, the train depot warehouse loomed to them, its corroded walls and broken windows already showing neglect. Amy sighed at how much the conflict with I.R.A. made the business run away from New Limbo...not that it mattered to her right now.
With nothing else to lose, Amy went further as Octavia followed her friend to the meeting. The refinery complex sprawled before them like an industrial cathedral, its towers reaching toward Hell's eternal sky. Corroded pipes snaked between buildings like metallic veins, releasing occasional bursts of steam that added to the perpetual haze. The main processing units loomed overhead, their surfaces stained with decades of chemical residue and illuminated by the occasional burst of flame from pressure release valves.
Positioned strategically throughout the complex were members of the Sixty-Sixth Street Gang, their presence adding another layer of tension to the already oppressive atmosphere. They stood on guard duty, their postures betraying formal training beneath their gang exterior.
Each member wore a distinctive combination of tactical gear and street fashion—military-grade body armor adorned with Pentagram iconography and, not surprisingly, I.R.A.-inspired symbols, combat boots paired with chains, and medallions bearing Hell's numerology. Their weapons were equally distinctive: stolen and modified Militech military hardware decorated with symbols and gang markings.
"Who are they?" Octavia whispered, noting how the gang members' eyes tracked their movement with predatory focus, their fingers resting near weapon triggers with practiced ease.
"The 666th Street Gang," Amy responded, maintaining her measured pace as they walked, not bothering with stares or sneers from Inferno's patriots. "They started as something almost noble in Imp City—a militia formed to protect their neighborhoods from Exterminators. But like most things in Hell, they eventually succumbed to basic instincts. Now they're neck-deep in protection rackets and extortion schemes. Just your average militia gang these days."
"Hey, Gots! Share some wealth with us!" One of the gangsters shouted to them, provoking or just wanting to have a conversation.
"Ask your boss first." Amy returned, not even bothering to look at him. She knew well they wouldn't dare to raise hands on her.
Octavia instead glanced at the group of them. One of the gang members shifted her position at her sight, a 666th Street succubus who blew a mocking kiss in Octavia's direction. Octavia, like Amy, opted to just ignore the provocations and follow Amy's lead.
"Why do I have a feeling they're inspiring to join the I.R.A.?" Octavia muttered quietly.
"You're smart...probably noticed how they look like as soldiers," Amy's voice low enough for only Octavia to hear. "That's what makes them useful—and dangerous. They follow orders without question and consider their territory as sacred as any patriot would do. Ask I.R.A soldier, and he would answer that the I.R.A. is an idea." She paused, checking the shadows between two cargo containers before continuing. "Think of it as a tapestry woven from different threads—rebels, dissidents, outcasts—all united by a single purpose: to tear down the reign of the Seven Deadly Sins. So obviously 666th finds it appealing to join as part of I.R.A."
Octavia's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "How can you be so certain?"
"Sometimes, you need to step down from your noble perch and understand the commoners, Via." A dry chuckle escaped Amy's throat, a gentle reprimand. "Look at their markings, their organization, the way they've modified their weapons. They're not just another street gang—they're preparing for something bigger. All the signs are there if you know where to look."
Octavia hummed in agreement with Amy's reasoning as the massive doors of the train depot loomed before them. Instead, obviously they would use the utility door for the workers instead. The doors creaked open with an ominous groan, revealing the shadowy interior of the depot proper. Locomotives stood, reduced to rusting hulks.
Amy's expression hardened, all traces of their previous conversation vanishing behind a mask of professional detachment. Now came the moment that would determine whether their gambit would succeed or fail. More Sixth Street gang members emerged from the darkness between the abandoned locomotives. The air grew thick with tension, the soft clicking of weapon safeties being disengaged echoing through the space.
High above, unseen by those below, a figure lay prone on the depot's rusty catwalks. Their breathing was measured and controlled as they assembled a high-caliber blessed sniper rifle with practiced precision. The scope's lens reflected as they adjusted their position, getting a clear view of the scene unfolding beneath them.
The leader of the Sixth Street Gang emerged from behind a derelict freight car, his presence commanding immediate attention. Unlike his subordinates, his scars formed complex patterns that covered most of his face—a living example of violence and authority. His tactical vest bore military medals stolen from fallen Militech corporate soldiers, each one tinkling softly as he moved.
"Did you come alone?" His voice carried the rough edge of someone who had spent years shouting orders over gunfire.
"Militech won't interfere, if that's what you're asking. Though I did bring a friend." Amy maintained professionalism, though her hand never strayed far from her blessed pistol. She then gestured toward Octavia. "Insurance, you understand."
The leader's eyes focused on Octavia, a cruel smile spreading across his scarred face.
"Is this the pear you brought to munch on? Charmed to meet you, miss." He laughed, the sound echoing harshly through the depot. Several of his gang members joined in too.
"Stick to business and stay away from lesbian jokes. Did you bring what we discussed?" Amy's expression hardened, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Not a fan of roleplay, huh? Fine, Goetia." The leader's amusement faded, replaced by professional focus. He extended his hand expectantly. "But we need to verify the contents first."
"Be my guest." Amy retrieved a USB drive from her jacket pocket, its surface marked with encrypted symbols.
The leader snapped his fingers, and a gang member stepped forward with a laptop. The device's screen cast a blue glow as he plugged in the drive. After a few minutes of checking the contents, he then announced the verdict.
"Boss," he called out after a moment, his voice carrying barely contained excitement. "It's all here—everything the I.R.A. requested from us. Complete schematics, security protocols, and access codes. We have a jackpot."
"Just to be clear. Militech usually installs the virus software on their USB drives. Yours truly removed it for your own pleasure." Amy added with a grin.
"And we appreciate it, Miss Amy. It's good that your kind sometimes honors the deal." The leader nodded with satisfaction before turning to another subordinate. "The case...bring it to her."
"What case?" Octavia asked, but Amy shushed her. Not the time for a million questions.
It won't take too long for another 666th Gangster to bring a reinforced briefcase with the Militech logo. The leader took it personally, his eyes scanning Amy's face as he approached her.
"Everything accounted for, Major of New Limbo." He offered the suitcase.
Amy grabbed it and gently opened it, not enough for Octavia to see but enough for Amy to see they honored their part of the deal.
"Pleasure doing business with you, guys." Amy shook the 666th Leader before going closer to Octavia, signaling with her head that they're done here, nice and smooth. But Octavia stopped her, agitating some 666 militia imps.
"Amy, I thought we were here about food shipments?" Octavia's head snapped toward Amy, her eyes wide with confusion. "What's with the suitcase from Militech?"
"Just trust me, Via." Amy's voice carried an edge of urgency as she met Octavia's confused gaze. "There are things that—"
"Be honest with me." Octavia cut in, her eyes flashing with growing frustration. "I'm losing patience with these half-truths, Amy."
"How naive you are to trust her at all, little princess of Goetia."
("666th Street/I.R.A" - Tension + Combat Theme)
"Shit..." Amy cursed, knowing it was too easy as a new voice sliced through the tension like a poisoned blade.
A figure emerged from behind one of the rusting locomotives, her movements carrying the fluid grace of a predator and media celebrity. A succubus no less, clad in the distinctive uniform of the I.R.A., stepped into the light.
"Meridiana... of course." Amy's posture shifted instantly, her hand tightening on her blessed pistol as she hissed her name through clenched teeth. The name shown years of bitter history. "I see subtlety wasn't a priority in your operations."
The succubus's laughter rang through the depot, amused and contemptuous. Her boots clicked against the metal floor as she approached, each step measured and deliberate. The Sixth Street gang members parted before her like.
"When one is surrounded by morons, subtlety becomes rather pointless, don't you think?" Meridiana's gaze swept dismissively over the assembled gang members. Her lips curved into a cruel smile as she focused on Amy. "Besides, I always prevail in the end. Just look at how far your precious Marchosias and his gang of nomads are too preoccupied—such a lost cause."
The temperature in the depot seemed to drop several degrees as the two women locked eyes, decades of rivalry and hatred crackling between them like electrical current. Above them, still unnoticed, the mysterious sniper adjusted their aim, tracking this new development through their scope with professional interest.
"I had noticed..." Amy's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. Her grip on her blessed pistol tightened imperceptibly. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here, Meridiana?"
The succubus's smile widened, revealing teeth too sharp to be natural. With fluid grace, she raised her pistol, its barrel pointing directly at Amy's heart. The sound of dozens of weapons being raised echoed through the depot as the Sixth Street gang members took aim at both Amy and Octavia.
"Amy?" Octavia's hand twitched toward her weapons, but she remained still. The risk was too great—any move toward either her flintlock or sword would result in immediate gunfire. Her eyes darted between the armed gangsters, calculating odds that grew worse by the second.
"Isn't it obvious, Amy? I'm here to eliminate the competition." Meridiana's voice carried notes of mock surprise. She gestured with her free hand at the briefcase. "All that lovely progress you've made? Well, it belongs to me now."
"Your superiors won't appreciate this betrayal." Amy's tone remained steady despite the weapons trained on her. "The I.R.A. doesn't take kindly to internal power plays. Moxxara herself would not allow this."
"Wh—" Octavia was about to ask as more and more she feels something is not right. But Meridiana's laughter echoed through the cavernous space, a sound entirely devoid of warmth.
"Please. Our dear 'Grandma' can barely remember to take her pills these days." Her expression hardened, all pretense of amusement vanishing. "Besides, in the end, all that matters is the city itself. New Limbo needs stronger leadership than what you can provide."
"It's my city, you whore! You can't just twist orders!" Amy was losing herself from this bullshit.
"Yes, I can...we all share equally as I.R.A. intends for us...aren't we?" Meridiana grinned.
Amy's eyes swept the depot methodically, taking in every detail of their situation. Her right hand remained steady on her blessed pistol while her left made an almost imperceptible gesture—three fingers brushed against her thigh, a signal meant for unseen eyes above.
"You know, Meridiana," Amy's voice turned into an amused one that seemed oddly out of place given their circumstances. "For someone so invested in taking over New Limbo, you've forgotten one rather crucial detail."
"Oh?" The succubus cocked her head slightly, the pistol never wavering from Amy's heart. "And what might that be?"
"I never come alone."
The word "alone" hung in the air for precisely one heartbeat before the depot's relative silence shattered. The sharp crack of a high-caliber sniper rifle echoed through the cavernous space. The leader of the Sixth Street Gang's head snapped backward, a spray of crimson misting the air behind him as the blessed round found its mark. His body crumpled, the stolen exorcist medals on his vest creating a discordant symphony as he hit the ground. For a fraction of a second, everything froze—a tableau of shock and dawning realization. Then Hell itself seemed to break loose within the depot.
"FOR THE FREE INFERNO!"
Meridiana was first to react. She dove behind a rusted freight car as Amy drew her blessed pistol with preternatural speed at her. But it was too late, so instead she dropped two gang members before they could adjust their aim. In a panic, Octavia finally freed her flintlock as she took cover behind a massive locomotive wheel.
"There! Sniper on the second floor!" One of the gangsters proclaimed, only to get shot by the round piercing his head.
Some of the gangsters refocused their attention on the sniper, making the mysterious guardian duck himself to avoid getting shot. Using the opportunity, Meridiana rushed to snatch the laptop from its position, cradling it against her chest as she sprinted between the rusting train cars. Amy tried to put her down, but Meridiana fired back with her own pistol, making Amy duck for cover.
"Have fun with your flat-chested bitch, Amy!" Meridiana laughed as she bid the farewell, leaving Amy and Octavia all the fun in the Hell right now.
Octavia acted for the first time as she squeezed the shot from her flintlock. A gang member fell, clutching his shoulder. Even she was surprised how powerful it was. Slow but powerful. But a single bullet nearly hit her, making her duck once more.
"What now, Amy?! This entire thing of yours is completely fucked!"
"Fuck Meridiana! Forget about her!" Amy shouted back as her blessed pistol sang out twice more, each shot finding its mark. She ducked behind a storage container, bullets sparking off its surface inches from her head. "We both got what we needed! Come on, friend! Let's fuck the shit up and get back to our car!"
Another sniper shot rang out from above, causing more chaos among the remaining gang members. The 666 scrambled for better positions, their military training beginning to reassert itself despite their leader's death.
"We need to get the hell out of here!" Amy continued to suppress the 666 forces, ejecting her pistol's spent magazine with practiced efficiency. The fresh magazine clicked home as she met Octavia's eyes across the bullet-riddled space between them. "Move for the side exit on my mark! Three... two... one... NOW!"
The depot descended into pure chaos as Amy and Octavia made their break for the side exit. Gunfire erupted from multiple directions, the muzzle flashes creating a deadly strobe effect inside the depot. Amy moved with lethal grace, her blessed pistol speaking in controlled pairs. Two gang members emerged from behind a freight car with raised weapons. Amy's first shot caught one in the throat, while the second found his partner's center mass. Both collapsed in a heap of tactical gear and gang insignia.
Octavia proved herself every bit the warrior "princess" by Loona's manner of speech. Still getting used to recoil, her flintlock roared, the weapon somehow keeping perfect time with her sword work. A gang member rushed her with a combat knife, only to find her blade waiting. The steel of Andras' blade sang as it parted flesh and bone.
Above them all, the mysterious sniper continued their deadly work. Each crack of their rifle became a death sentence, blessed ammunition finding targets with surgical precision. Gang members who tried to gain elevated positions found themselves picked off before they could establish any meaningful fire superiority.
"Watch your left!" Amy called out, her warning punctuated by three rapid shots. A gang member who had been trying to flank Octavia sprawled backward, his modified Militech rifle clattering across the depot floor.
The remaining gang members began to show signs of breaking. Their military discipline wavered in the face of the deadly crossfire. Some tried to retreat deeper into the depot's shadowy recesses, while others maintained their positions with diminishing effectiveness. A gang member rallied three others for a coordinated push. They moved in, attempting to catch Amy in a crossfire. The sniper's rifle cracked twice, eliminating two threats, while Amy's blessed pistol claimed the third. The lieutenant himself found his charge halted by Octavia's blade, the weapon sliding between his ribs.
The final moments of the fight took on an almost ceremonial quality. The last remaining gang members, perhaps realizing the futility of their position, attempted a desperate breakout toward the depot's main entrance. They never made it. The mysterious sniper's rifle spoke one final time. The last gang member collapsed mid-stride, his modified weapon discharging harmlessly into the depot's rusted ceiling.
Silence descended upon the depot, broken only by the distant sound of machinery from the refinery complex and the soft ping of cooling metal. Shell casings littered the floor, mixing with spent magazines, blood, and dead bodies of 666th Street.
The mysterious sniper raised his weapon, giving a thumbs up for Amy for excellent tactical prowess. Then a figure dropped from the rafters above, landing with practiced grace among the scattered shell casings. The light caught the distinctive material Heaven-forged metal as he straightened to his full height. Octavia had to blink several times, her mind refusing to process what her eyes were seeing.
"You..." Octavia hissed; out of all, he would be the last she wanted to see... well, maybe pre-last, considering Gaap existed.
There amid the aftermath of carnage stood Cowboy Crow "Demon," although Octavia won't pretend anymore. This man was an exorcist in disguise named "Deadeye" or something, Rönne Shaffer to the friends. His scoped repeater, still warm from use, rested easily in his hands. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been plummeting from a bridge in Hellhound Lair, dragged down by Raider Hellhound.
"I should have known your genocidal ass would survive that fall!" Octavia stormed toward him, her eyes blazing with fury.
"Nice to see you too, Lady Octavia..." Rönne rolled his eyes, drawling sarcastically before turning his attention to Amy. "It's not over. I expect Meridiana to send reinforcements here, so we've got more Sixth Street incoming outside."
"Nothing too easy these days..." Amy clutched the briefcase tighter, already moving toward the exit. "Then we shouldn't waste time. Let's move."
"Wait!" Octavia's hand shot out, grabbing Amy's arm to stop her. Her voice carried equal parts of confusion and anger as she gestured toward Rönne. "You don't know who you're dealing with, Amy! This is a fucking Exorcist of Heaven! An actual exorcist!"
"I know, Via." Amy replied simply, shaking her arm from Octavia's grip and attempting to move past her.
"You know?" Octavia's voice rose an octave. She then stepped directly into her path, hands flaring with agitation. "Okay, enough of this bullshit, Amy! Tell me what the fuck is going on! Right now!"
"This isn't the time for explanations, Via. I promise I will explain, but this is not the time!" Amy sharply pulled her hand free from Octavia's grasp.
"She's right. Once we're clear, you'll get your answers, Miss Octavia." Rönne nodded, his repeater already trained on the depot's entrance. Then a pause, followed by a knowing glance at Amy. "Though you won't like them."
Amy's eyes flickered upward to meet the exorcist's gaze, disapproval evident in her beak, making her expression even more unreadable than usual. Octavia stood perfectly still for a moment, her breath releasing in a controlled exhale that spoke of years of pure rage. The part of her that was purely Stella's daughter boiled to the surface, threatening to overwhelm her usual composure.
"You know what, Amy?! I will tell Focalor and Barbatos all about this!" Octavia hissed, each word dripping with icy precision. "And I don't care if you lose your position over it. I'm tired—absolutely tired—of being used as a pawn in everyone else's games!"
"Get used to it, birdy. It's not like you weren't pawn from the start." Rönne was honest with her, sighing to himself.
"Shut it, pigeon!" Octavia flipped him off, making Rönne only smirk at it, finding it adorable. Although their reunion could not happily continue as the sound of approaching vehicles grew louder, adding urgency to their standoff.
"Yep, I expect nothing less. But at the end of the day, Octavia, you'll understand that everything I've done—everything I'm doing—is for the greater good." Amy's response came with practiced calm, though there was a slight tension in her jaw that betrayed her frustration.
"Your "Greater Good" is a weird one, Amy." Octavia shook her head, having already lost any goodwill to Amy.
"The more you spend with me, the more you would have seen it that way." Amy whispered as she checked the windows, making sure how is their perimeter.
The metallic sound of rapid footsteps erupted above them. Rönne raised his weapon, only to lower it when he confirmed it was an ally. Another Exorcist arrived through the depot's side window. Exorcist Sister-Knight "Fiddle" moved with the characteristic precision of Heaven's soldier to announce the news.
"Lieutenant Deadeye. Exorcist Lonestar has taken position on the western overlook. We've got multiple Sixth Street vehicles approaching from the north and east."
"Expecting big trouble, Fiddle?" Rönne asked for further information.
"No, sir. Typical low-purge priorities. On a scale of Cannibal Colonist danger, it's four out of ten, sir. Lonestar and I will handle them."
"Roger that, Fiddle." Rönne's posture shifted subtly, assuming the mantle of command with practiced ease. "But I need you to run interference with Lonestar. Pull their attention, keep them focused on anywhere but here." He gestured toward Amy and Octavia with his thumb. "I'll escort these ladies to safety."
Octavia rolled her eyes at his choice of words, volumes of disdain. Fiddle remained motionless for a moment, her stare fixed on the two demons, before shaking her head.
"Fucking demons..." She murmured, ingrained prejudice evident. Nevertheless, she gave a sharp salute to Rönne before turning on her heel toward her assigned position.
"Well, looks like I'm your guardian angel once more, Miss Octavia." Rönne drawled, chambering the first round; each blessed bullet slid home with a soft click. "I hope you're willing to play nice this time."
"You can fuck off with your taunts, angel." Octavia hissed through clenched teeth, her grip tightening on her flintlock as she pulled it free. "But yeah...for now...just for now."
Nodding with approval, Rönne then went towards the exit door, checking for Fiddle on the refinery platform. She signaled that the reinforcements arrived in Rönne's sector. She pulled out her own bow and nodded, wishing her lieutenant all the Archangel Michael's strength for the fight.
"Well..." Rönne looked back at them, making sure they were ready. "I'm not sure about you two, but Exorcists are not subtle about going for a suicide run."
"So you smiley bastards don't have any glamorous speeches or even just 'YOLO'? moments?!" Octavia for the first time find it amusing. Hell's worst mosquitoes, they said.
"I don't even know what "YOLO" is, Lady Octavia. But in our case, it's simple words of moral boost."
"Which is?" Octavia raised an eyebrow.
"Let fuck their shit up for Grandmaster Alcima to shed the tear of happiness." Rönne said nonchalantly, pausing before adding a rather important part he forgot. "Also...Deus Vult, because of course it does."
"Sounds about right..." Octavia shrugged, expecting as much. "But in Hell, we say, 'Let's kick their asses and beat the shit out of them.'"
"Amen to that, Sister." Rönne smirked, weapon ready. "Well, there goes nothing. Let's roll!"
Metal groaned as the depot's side door swung open with Rönne's kick. The first burst of gunfire shattered the industrial chorus as Rönne opened fire first. Bullets sparked off metal surfaces inches from Amy's head. She ducked behind a concrete barrier, the rough surface cool against her back. Her blessed pistol found its mark—once, twice.
"On our right!" Octavia's voice cut through the chaos. Her flintlock's report echoed off the refinery towers. A gang member stumbled into view, clutching his throat and falling dead.
"Got it!" Rönne's repeater cracked sharply near them, providing support of fire. Three more bodies hit the ground in rapid succession. The blessed ammunition left wounds that smoked with divine energy. Octavia's sword whispered from its sheath. A gang member's battle cry turned to gurgling as steel opened his throat.
Blood splattered across storage tanks, sizzling in the eternal flames' light. Steam erupted overhead, hot and blinding. Through the artificial fog, muzzle flashes strobed like burning camera bulbs. Somewhere in the distance, Fiddle and Lonestar's blessed weapons created a symphony of controlled destruction. Yet, it was perfect opportunity for them to slip by.
"Now!" Rönne's boots hit the ground beside them. His repeater swung in a smooth arc—crack, crack, crack. Each shot found flesh.
Both Amy and Octavia ran with him. Boots crunched on scattered shell casings. Octavia's sword flashed, parting flesh from bone to whoever stood in her way. Amy's pistol spoke death in controlled pairs. Rönne's repeater kept the main ground in control while Fiddle's bowstring sang death from above, each shot finding its mark. Gang members fell as blessed steel pierced flesh.
Lonestar's position erupted with sustained fire, brass shells raining down like metallic hail. The combined barrage forced the Sixth Street gang to scatter, losing sight of their primary targets in the chaos of muzzle flashes and screams. Amy's car waited outside. Somehow nobody even bothered to destroy it...
Octavia's boots scraped against gravel as she bent over, hands on knees and drawing in ragged breaths. Steam from ruptured pipes created a protective shroud around them while Rönne swept the sector, his repeater ready.
"Sector is clear." He announced, then added with a smirk. "And you might want to work on that stamina, owl."
"Shut up..." Octavia snapped between breaths, straightening to face Amy. "Well, Amy...was all this worth it?"
Amy's fingers reached the case's latches, and the lid opened with a precise click. Her lips curved into a smile as eternal flames illuminated the contents—Heaven-grade explosives nestled in protective foam, alongside a single dart gun.
"Just perfect, Via." Amy breathed, running her fingers along the weapon's surface. "You made everything work exactly as planned...nothing will stop us."
"Barbatos will still hear about this." Octavia's voice carried steel beneath the exhaustion.
"As if it matters, Lady Octavia." Rönne's repeater lowered slightly, knowing that it's about to start. "No offense to you, but you've got poor judgment in trust...and the company you keep."
"Of all demons, Exorcist, you'd be the last I'd trust—" Octavia spun to face him, then a sharp sting in her neck cut off Octavia's words. Her hand flew to the source of the pain, fingers closing around a small dart protruding from her flesh. The world seemed to tilt sideways as she pulled it free, staring at the metallic cylinder with growing horror.
"You made the greatest mistake anyone can make in Hell." Rönne sighed heavily, shaking his head. His repeater lowered completely as he regarded her with what might have been pity beneath his professionalism. "You trusted someone too much."
The Exorcists' words hit her right into gut, realizing what he meant. Octavia turned slowly, her movements already growing sluggish as the sedative coursed through her veins. Amy stood perfectly still, the dart gun in her hand. Her face bore an expression of clinical detachment, though something flickered in her eyes—not quite regret, but perhaps the acknowledgment of necessity.
"A-Amy?" Octavia's voice wavered, her tongue growing heavy in her mouth. Her vision began to blur and dance around Amy's silhouette. The ground rushed up to meet her as her knees buckled. Octavia tried to get up to fight off the sedative, but to no avail. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Amy's face, still wearing that mask of necessary displeasure.
And time fragmented.
The only thing Octavia could understand was that with her blinking a few times, each time she felt she was in a different place at different time. Rough hands dragged her across cold metal floors. Through half-lidded eyes, she caught glimpses of I.R.A. uniforms, their insignias seeming to writhe in her drug-addled vision. Voices filtered through the haze, distorted and dreamlike.
"Mission status?" A voice asked, clinical and precise.
"According to plan." Amy's response came clearly, cutting through Octavia's fog. "The package is secure, and we're ready to proceed to the next phase."
"Excellent work, Rev-Captain Amy."
Even from this state, Octavia could not understand what was going on all around her as darkness finally consumed her. Her last thought was of how Gaap must be laughing at her naivety if he saw her like this. In a realm built on betrayal, she had somehow convinced herself that trust could exist. And now she is captured by Amy's subordinates: The Infernal Fucking Revolutionary Army.
Oh, she had been wrong.
Fatally wrong.
Notes:
Yep, can't have nice things in Hell :(
Chapter 40: - And Your Enemies Closer
Summary:
“For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.” ― Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games
Notes:
Okay, real Chapter this time.
Sorry about long intervals. Since February, I was extremely busy with theory part of Driving Exams, which I passed not long time ago and thus allowing to continue with this fic. But other than that, hope you enjoy it.
WARNING: There is degradation/humiliation forced by gun point, so be careful.
Chapter Text
September 22, 2025, AD (102 Days Before the Next Purge), 11:17 AM.
Hell/The Pride Ring/Somewhere near The Ring of Wrath and The Ring of Pride start/The Castle-Town of Phenexia
The morning light filtered through the stained-glass windows of Castle Phenexia. As with every morning for the past three years, Lady Olivia stood attentively behind Marquise Phenex, meticulously arranging the Marquise's elaborate headdress. Not a feather out of place, not a jewel unpolished. Such was the standard expected for Elector-Marquise in Ars Goetia.
"♪ A touch tighter on the left side, darling. ♪" Phenex instructed without looking up from her correspondence. "♪ And be careful with the emerald pins. They were a gift from King Paimon, hmm yes. ♪"
"Of course, Your Grace." Olivia replied as she adjusted the headdress as per instruction.
Another day, another typical work in the endless performance that was court life in Ars Goetia. But Olivia endured it very good. Three years of serving as Phenex's lady-in-waiting had taught her the art of being simultaneously present and absent. Her body would follow the choreographed steps of courtly service while her thoughts drifted elsewhere, usually to the volumes of cute fanfiction novels hidden beneath her bed or the dream of someday seeing the Realm of Inferno beyond the Goetian Castle. Helped a lot when she had to stand for 4 hours in occasion or hearing boring lectures in the University she was attending.
"♪ Marquis Shax will arrive either tomorrow or somewhere this week. ♪" Phenex remarked, breaking into Olivia's thoughts.
"And once more you will have to bless him with your regality, your majesty." Olivia complimented to her, mostly a formality.
"♪ So you say, darling. ♪" Phenex chuckled to herself, knowing perfectly that Olivia is just trying to boost Phenex's ego. Not that she doesn't mind it as Phenex herself was in Olivia's shoes in the times of Ars Theurgia. "♪ But I expect you to prepare the chamber accordingly. Make sure the linens are changed and that fresh flowers are arranged...blue ones, mind you. The marquis detests red. ♪"
"Yes, Your Grace." Olivia responded automatically. Just in time for the grand clock in the hall to chime eight times, signaling that Phenex is needed somewhere else. Olivia stepped back to admire her work, ensuring the headdress sat perfectly upon Phenex. "Will there be anything else you need, Your Grace?
"♪ Borus will inform you personally if I need anything from you. ♪" Phenex dismissed her with a wave of her bejeweled hand. "♪You may leave now, Oli ♪"
"As you wish, Your Grace." Olivia curtseyed deeply, fluid and graceful.
But as she exited the Marquise's chambers, Olivia allowed herself a moment of respite in the empty corridor. She leaned against the cool stone wall, closing her eyes briefly as she exhaled.
At times, she wondered about this...will she be a Lady-In-Waiting for the rest of her life? How many more days would she spend arranging someone else's headdress, memorizing someone else's preferences, living someone else's life? The position of lady-in-waiting to a Goetian noble was considered prestigious that many in lesser nobility would kill for, quite literally in some cases. Her father had pulled countless strings to secure this appointment for her, believing it to be the best life for his daughter.
Yet each morning, by donning her own carefully selected attire and affixed the small silver pin that marked her as Phenex's personal attendant, she felt less like a privileged courtier and more like an elaborately dressed decoration. The endless cycle of formal breakfasts, morning toilettes, afternoon teas, evening soirées, and midnight gatherings blurred together in a monotonous parade of superficiality.
But duty called, regardless of her personal feelings about it. Three years of service had instilled in her a sense of responsibility that transcended her own desires. She won't pretend that she prefers this than Forcas way of life', leading the armies and fighting with death breathing down his neck every day.
Wasting no time, Olivia gathered herself quickly, smoothing down the front of her immaculate uniform before making her way toward the guest chambers. Marquis Shax's comfort was paramount, even if the thought of arranging another noble's accommodations made her soul wither just a little more.
The long corridor stretched before her as heels clicked rhythmically against the marble floor. Servants scurried past her, offering quick bows of deference to the Marquise' personal lady-in-waiting. Her court tittle was respected, even if it sometimes felt like a gilded cage.
Upon reaching the guest chambers, Olivia produced a small brass key from her pocket. The door swung open with a soft creak, revealing a spacious room bathed in the soft glow of hellfire sconces. The chamber was already clean as the lower servants had done their part. But it would be Olivia's responsibility to transform it into something worthy of a Marquis.
"Blue flowers, no red, lest we offend His Excellency's delicate sensibilities." Olivia murmured to herself, surveying the room. She opened the large wardrobe, inspecting the linens stored within. Fresh, but not fresh enough. Olivia sighed and began removing them, piling them neatly at the foot of the bed. From a side cabinet, she retrieved linens of the finest silk, dyed a subtle shade of midnight blue and embroidered with silver thread.
After that, Olivia began making the bed. Each corner was tucked with no flaws, each pillow fluffed to perfect plumpness. Even as she worked, her mind wandered to the novel she had been reading in spare time. Just a forbidden romance between a lowly imp and a fallen angel. She smiled faintly, allowing herself this small indulgence of imagination.
The sound of a clock chiming in the distance reminded her that time was passing. Later in the evening, she needs to ensure the bathing chamber was properly stocked with the soaps and oils, and that the selection of wines in the private cabinet met the Marquis's known preferences.
Next came the flowers. A crystal vase sat empty on the ornate writing desk near the window. Olivia crossed to the adjoining conservatory where Phenex kept an impressive collection of Hellish flora. She selected an arrangement of blue hellbell blossoms and nightshade. Arranging them in the vase, she stepped back to admire her handiwork before placing it on the bedside table.
Just as Olivia was placing the final touch, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Heavy footsteps approached rapidly, accompanied by muttered curses and the distinct sound of fabric rustling.
The door burst open with enough force to rattle the hinges, and there stood another of Phenex's Ladies-In-Waiting: Lady Iria, her chest heaving. In her arms, she clutched what appeared to be one of Marquise Phenex's most elaborate gowns. Except now, the crimson had additional hues, darker patches that Olivia immediately recognized as blood.
"For Ars Belial's sake, Olivia!" Iria exclaimed, her voice echoing off the chamber walls. "This is the third dress this WEEK! Do you know how long it takes to remove blood from Bastetian silk? HOURS! And the Mistress expects it pristine by tomorrow's soirée!"
"Lower your voice, Iria. The walls have ears in this castle." Olivia straightened her posture, momentarily forgetting the chocolates still in her hand. Still there was a hint of amusement in her eyes as Iria's outbursts were as predictable as they were entertaining.
"Oh, spare me the propriety lecture," Iria rolled her eyes dramatically, kicking the door closed behind her with the heel of her boot, a most unladylike gesture that would have earned her a stern reprimand if they served someone else other than Phenex. "I've spent the morning scrubbing Morax's blood from Her grace's shoes, and now THIS!" She hoisted the bloody dress higher, as if Olivia might have somehow missed the glaringly obvious stains.
"Elector's Blood?" Olivia raised an eyebrow, placing the chocolates down and approaching to examine the damage. "What did poor Count Morax do to deserve her wrath this time?"
"Existed, apparently. Something happened in Lemegeton recently not that I really care." Iria snorted. "And you know how she gets when she's preparing for the guests."
Olivia gently took the dress from Iria's arms, assessing the damage by herself. She knew a bit of cloth laundering.
"Well, the blood's still fresh so we might save it without having to resort to sorcery. The last time we asked Court Seer to magically clean a garmant, she turned it into living butterflies."
"Which then burst into flames, Oli." Iria added with a grimace, sinking dramatically onto the freshly made bed. She sprawled there momentarily before noticing Olivia's disapproving glare. "What? I need a moment of respite before tackling that monstrosity."
"You're wrinkling the linens I just pressed..." Olivia pointed out, though without real malice. She laid the dress carefully across the writing desk, mindful of the bloodstains. "And technically, you're supposed to be addressing me as 'Lady Olivia' when we're in the castle proper."
"Oh yes, Lady Olivia. Forgive me for not observing proper etiquette while covered in viscera and despair." Iria let out a bark of laughter, dragging herself into a sitting position. She would stand up and coming to examine the dress beside Olivia. "But Tedious doesn't begin to cover it. Sometimes I wonder what I did in a past life to deserve this particular Ring of Hell."
Despite herself, Olivia's beak twitched into a small smile.
"You must have been positively saintly. To be granted the honor of washing blood from the Marquise's underwear. You know why they say a hen bleeds more often than a cock..."
Iria gave an "Oh, you didn't just say that!" look as the two women caught each other's eyes and burst into stifled laughter, quickly covering their mouths to muffle the sound. These moments of shared frustration and camaraderie were precious in the rigid hierarchy that is Ars Goetia.
"Well..." Iria sighed, composing herself, "I suppose we should address this disaster before Her Grace notices it's missing. She mentioned needing it for the welcoming ceremony of Shax's arrival tomorrow."
"I've just finished preparing the chamber. I can help you with the dress if you'd like. Four hands are better than two, especially when dealing with Bastetian silk."
"Would you?" Iria looked genuinely grateful, some of her typical bravado softening. "I'd be in your debt. Again."
"What are fellow ladies are for?" Olivia replied with a wink, already rolling up her sleeves. "But you owe me. Perhaps covering for me during the next midnight recital? I have a new novel hidden under my mattress that I'm dying to finish."
"Deal!" Iria agreed immediately. "Though I don't understand how you can stomach those sappy romances. The last one you loaned me was so cringy I nearly developed diabolic diabetes."
"Says the hen who teared up at the ending," Olivia teased, lifting the dress carefully. "Come on, let's get this to the servant's washing room before anyone sees us. And Iria?"
"Hmm?"
"Try not to insult any more non-Goetias on the way. I can only save you from lynching so many times."
"Where's the fun in that, Lady Olivia? Someone must make your sweet buttcheeks be tensed every now and then by my casual racism." Iria's grin was positively wicked.
"Screw you, Iria." Olivia finally broke that "I'm Lady-In-Waiting" posture with Iria's comment, blushing a bit.
"Make me drunk first then I will think about it." Iria chuckled, going silent once more with the perpetual grin of hers. "Come on, let us not waste time anymore."
Side by side, the two ladies-in-waiting made their way through the servant's passage. These passages allowed servants to move unseen while attending to the endless needs of their masters. Olivia led the way, the bloodied dress draped carefully over her arms while Iria followed closely behind. She occasionally glancing over her shoulder to ensure they weren't seen by any passing nobility. Two Ladies-In-Waiting together and not near their master would be seen as Court Intrigue.
"If anyone asks, Iria." Olivia whispered as they descended a spiral staircase. "We're running an errand directly from the Marquise."
Iria snorted. "Who's going to question us? The only ones down here are other servants, and they know better than to pry into the affairs of the Ars Goetia."
"Still, discretion is always wise." Olivia insisted.
The warmth of corridors dropped noticeably as they ventured deeper into the castle's depths. The fine marble of the upper floors gave way to rougher stone, and the ornate sconces were replaced by simpler, functional lighting. Finally, they arrived at a large wooden door, swollen slightly from constant exposure to steam. Olivia shifted the dress to one arm and pushed the door open, releasing a wave of warm, damp air into the corridor.
The servant's washing room was a hive of activity with Imp maids scurried about, their small red forms dwarfed by massive copper tubs and drying racks that stretched toward the ceiling. Steam billowed from cauldrons of boiling water, and the air was filled with the rhythmic sounds of washboards and the occasional splash. Each imp knew their role and executed it with the efficiency that came from years of practice and the fear of punishment.
As Olivia and Iria entered, several curious eyes turned their way. It was unusual for ladies-in-waiting to venture into this domain personally; typically, they would send lower ranking servants to handle such tasks. Their presence, along with the obviously noble garment in Olivia's arms, caused a momentary pause in the activity.
An older imp maid with graying hair pulled back in a severe bun approached them, wiping her hands on her apron. She had the weathered look of someone who had spent decades in service and had seen it all. Her eyes immediately fell on the bloodied dress, and she let out a soft whistle.
"By all the fires of Imperia, how did that happen?" She asked, the distinctive accent of the Wrath's Ring rural areas with some Lemegeton's native slipping in. She reached out, gently taking the dress from Olivia to examine the damage more closely.
"It's Ars Goetia, don't ask," Iria leaned against a nearby table, crossing her arms with casual indifference. waving a dismissive hand. "You know how these nobles are with their... activities."
The imp maid raised an eyebrow but didn't seem particularly shocked. Working in the castle meant becoming accustomed to the occasional assassination of the aristocracy.
"You'll have to excuse Lady Iria's casual racism." Olivia cleared her throat, shooting Iria a look. "What she means is that the Marquise had an unfortunate incident. The dress needs to be pristine by tomorrow evening for the Marquise Shax's welcoming ceremony."
"Casual Racism, my feathery ass..." Iria scoffed, though there was no real offense in her tone. "It's not racism if it's true. Besides, Madame Leena here has worked for the longer than either of us. She knows exactly what 'unfortunate incidents' usually entail."
The imp maid, Madame Leena shook her head and turned the dress over in her hands, examining the extent of the bloodstains.
"Goetia blood." She stated matter-of-factly. More to herself rather to two young Goetias. "Still fresh, though beginning to set. Will need to soak it immediately in cold water and salt before tackling the stains. Excuse me."
Without another word, she turned and barked orders at two younger imp maids, who quickly prepared a large basin with water and began measuring out salt.
"It will take some time," Madame Leena informed to two ladies, already beginning to carefully submerge the garment in the solution. "Perhaps 30 minutes for the initial treatment, then I'll need to see for myself if additional measures are required."
"We'll wait. The Marquise was quite adamant about having this particular dress for tomorrow, and I'd rather not return empty-handed." Olivia nodded.
"As you wish, my ladies," Madame Leena replied with a respectful nod before turning her full attention to the work of saving the expensive garment. With nothing to do but wait, Olivia and Iria retreated to a small alcove near the drying racks, where a bench had been placed for supervisors to rest while overseeing the servants' work. The bench was simple but clean, and they settled onto it gratefully, watching as the imps continued their labor.
"Half an hour..." Iria groaned, tilting her head back against the stone wall. "The Marquise will wonder where we've disappeared to."
"I'm sure Borus will understand we would be occupied with preparations for Marquise Shax's arrival, Iria." Olivia replied. "He'll cover for us if needed."
"Off course he does." Iria smirked. "He's always had a soft spot for you. I've seen how he looks at you. I wish that he gave me that attention...I would not mind to "rock" that imp."
"Don't be ridiculous. Butler Borus is simply... appreciative of proper etiquette." Olivia felt heat rising to her cheeks, being young and "inexperienced" speaks for itself. "Which is more than I can say for some people."
"Proper etiquette!" Iria mimicked in an exaggerated posh accent. "Is that what they're calling it these days? Next you'll tell me you haven't noticed how he always ensures your glass is filled first at dinner."
"He's the head butler. That's his job," Olivia protested, though her blush deepened. "Besides, romance between servants is strongly discouraged."
"Not forbidden, though," Iria pointed out with a sly grin. "And technically, we're not servants. We're ladies-in-waiting. There's a difference."
"A distinction that matters little in practice," Olivia sighed, but there was a hint of a smile playing at her Beak. "Anyway, I can too talk things about you. How about you and that handsome guard? I saw you two chatting rather intensely during last week's banquet."
"Captain Valac?" Iria's face changed momentarily, a flash of something genuine crossing her features before her customary smirk returned. "Please. He's far too stuck-up for my taste. Always going on about duty and honoring the Andras-Phenexia as if we're not literally in Hell."
"Mmm-hmm..." Olivia hummed, unconvinced. "That would explain why you've taken little walks at the east wing balcony every evening. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that it overlooks the guards' training grounds."
"I enjoy the evening air." Iria sniffed, then broke into a laugh at Olivia's knowing expression. "Fine, fine. He's not terrible to look at, especially when he's training shirtless. That plump tail of his is... impressive."
"Ah, so it's his tail you're admiring," Olivia teased.
"Among other things..." Iria admitted with a wickedly suggestive raised eyebrow. Her voice then had taken on a more somber note." But it's nothing serious. Unlike some Goetias, I know better than to develop genuine feelings in a place like this."
Olivia nodded slowly, understanding all too well. Attachments in the Goetian court were dangerous luxuries. Alliances shifted like sand, and today's favorite could be tomorrow's enemies. Even among servants or ladies-in-waiting, the genuine love were risks that few could afford to take.
"Speaking of developing feelings." Iria said, deliberately lightening her tone. "Remember I mentioned about Morax earlier. Have you heard about the scandal with Count Morax's handmaiden? Apparently, she was caught in a rather compromising position with one of the visiting diplomats from the Wrath Ring."
"Oh!" Olivia gasped, momentarily forgetting her usual reserve. "So that's what happened in Lemegeton.... Who told you that?"
"One of the kitchen imps overheard Phenex talking about it." Iria revealed, leaning in closer as if sharing state secrets. "The poor handmaiden of Morax has been reassigned outhouse cleaner. A worst fate than visiting Ninth Ring, if you ask me."
"That's terrible," Olivia murmured, though her eyes sparkled with interest at the gossip. "Was the diplomat sent away?"
"That's the best part," Iria said with relish. "She wasn't. In fact, Count Morax has been seeing quite a lot of her since the incident. Privately, of course."
Olivia's mouth formed a perfect 'O' of scandal. "No! You don't think..."
"I absolutely do think..." Iria confirmed with a decisive nod. "The handmaiden was simply a convenient scapegoat. Classic Goetian maneuver."
Their conversation continued in hushed tones, moving from one piece of court gossip to another-who was secretly meeting whom, which noble had fallen out of favor, the latest fashion disasters at the previous night's gathering. The minutes slipped by almost unnoticed as they dissected the complex social web that made up their daily lives.
It was rare for them to have time like this-unstructured and away from the watchful eyes of the court. Despite their differences, or perhaps because of them, Olivia and Iria found genuine comfort in each other's company. They could be themselves in these moments, dropping the perfect masks they wore in service to the Elector-Marquise.
Occasionally, they would glance over at the progress being made with the dress. Madame Leena and her assistants worked with focused intensity, treating the delicate fabric with a series of solutions that gradually lifted the bloodstains without damaging the intricate embroidery. It was an impressive display of skill that both ladies-in-waiting could appreciate, having been trained in the finer points of garment care themselves.
"Do you ever wonder what it would be like?" Olivia asked suddenly, her voice softer than before. "To be somewhere else?"
"Dangerous thoughts, Oli." Iria gave her a sideways glance, tone soft. "But yes. Sometimes."
"Where would you go?" Olivia pressed, curiosity getting the better of her caution.
"The Lust Ring, maybe. Or Pride. Somewhere with fewer rules and more... possibilities." Iria thought for a moment. She turned to face Olivia fully. "And you? Where does Lady's Perfect dream of escaping to?"
Olivia hesitated, then admitted it.
"I never thought...back to my dad, I suppose. Forcas, although he can handle himself...well I'm worried for him at times. Too much of glory hound."
"I understand that too well, Oli." Iria's expression softened, showing a rare glimpse of the vulnerability beneath her brash exterior.
And for a moment, the two women sat in companionable silence, each lost in her own thoughts of what might have been-or what might still be. That quiet moment was interrupted by Madame Leena approaching with the dress draped carefully over her arms. Where once there had been ugly red stains, the fabric now had its original vibrant color, the gold embroidery catching the light.
"It's finished, my ladies! Good as new." She announced with justified pride.
Olivia stood up, genuinely impressed.
"Madame Leena, this is extraordinary work. The Marquise will be pleased."
"Very pleased," Iria agreed, also rising to her feet. "You've saved us both from a fate worse than death-namely, the Marquise's disappointment."
"It's my job, my ladies. Been doing it for nearly half century now." A rare smile crossed the imp maid's weathered face.
"Thank you," Olivia said to Madame Leena, slipping her a small pouch of coins-a token of appreciation that would never be mentioned again. "Your servitude is, as always, appreciated."
The imp maid's fingers closed around the pouch with practiced subtlety, making it disappear into her apron pocket in one fluid motion. She offered a respectful nod, the transaction complete and already forgotten.
As Olivia carefully took the dress, now wrapped in protective fabric to keep it pristine during transport, she exchanged a meaningful glance with Iria. Their brief respite in the washing room had been a welcome break from the pressures of court life, but duty called once more. Just as they turned to leave, the heavy wooden door to the washing room swung open with a deliberate creak. The bustling activity in the room faltered momentarily as a tall, immaculately dressed figure stepped through the doorway.
Butler Borus cut an imposing silhouette against the steam-filled room. His pristine black tailcoat showed not a single wrinkle despite the humidity, and his white gloves remained spotless even as he ran one finger thoughtfully along the doorframe. Unlike the frantic energy of the imps around him, Borus moved with measured grace, each step intentional as he navigated through the washing room.
His horns, polished to a mirror shine, curved elegantly upward from his temples, marking him as a demon of considerable standing despite his service position. The mastery of being an servant made it clear why he had risen to the position of head butler in House Phenex.
"A pleasant morning to you, Lady Olivia, Lady Iria," Borus greeted them. He offered a perfect bow, exactly the right depth for addressing ladies-in-waiting-not too deep to suggest impropriety, not too shallow to suggest disrespect.
"How in Heaven did you manage to find us here, Borus? We didn't exactly leave a trail of breadcrumbs." Iria immediately shifted her weight to one hip, placing a hand there in a stance of casual defiance that contrasted sharply with Borus's formality. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, head tilting to one side as she regarded the butler.
Borus remained neutral, though the very corner of his mouth twitched upward in what might have been amusement-or irritation. It was often difficult to tell with him.
"I simply followed the distinctive scent of your perfume, Lady Iria," he replied smoothly. "Midnight Hellrose with notes of brimstone, if I'm not mistaken. Quite a... potent smell."
"Really?" Iria blinked in surprise, then lifted her wrist to her nose and inhaled deeply. Her eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on her face. The perfume was indeed stronger than she had intended. In her haste to assist with the bloodied dress, she must have applied it more liberally than usual.
"Well, shit..." She muttered, dropping her hand. "You weren't lying."
"Butler Borus..." Olivia cleared her throat, a gentle reminder of decorum, though her eyes held a hint of amusement at her friend's discomfort. "Is the Marquise inquiring after our whereabouts? We were just about to return to our duties."
Borus's gaze lingered on Olivia for a moment longer than strictly necessary before shifting to the dress she carried. If he recognized it as the Marquise's bloodstained garment from earlier, he gave no indication.
"Actually, I am here on a matter of some urgency. The Marquise has sent me to escort both of you for a special guest visit."
Olivia and Iria exchanged curious glances.
"A special guest?" Olivia inquired, carefully folding the dress over her arm. "We weren't informed of any visitors today beyond the preparations for Marquise Shax's arrival tomorrow."
"Indeed. This is a rather... unexpected development." Borus nodded, his tone revealing nothing. " It seems we will be hosting a long-term guest at Castle Phenexia. The Marquise has specifically requested that her two premier ladies-in-waiting be present to greet this visitor. Apparently, this guest is someone of your kinship."
"Kinship?" Iria echoed, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "Another lady-in-waiting?"
"Your peer, I believe." Borus confirmed. "And I believe this one serves in House Paimon, if I'm not mistaken. The Marquise wishes for you both to introduce yourselves to your peer and ensure they feel... welcomed." The slight pause before the final word suggested there might be more to this assignment than a simple greeting.
"Did the Mistress mention how long this guest would be staying with us?" Olvia asked, already mentally cataloging which guest chambers would need to be prepared. House Paimon was known for its extravagance and somewhat strong approach to traditional Goetian protocol. That even more piled up work for her.
"The details were not shared with me." Borus replied evenly. "However, the Marquise did stress that this is a matter requiring the utmost discretion and courtesy."
"When is this mystery guest expected to arrive?" Iria asked, making no effort to hide her curiosity-or her mild annoyance at having their plans disrupted.
"Imminently. Which is why I must ask you both to accompany me without delay. If you would be so kind." He gestured toward the door with a gloved hand.
"But the Marquise's gown-" Olivia glanced down at the freshly cleaned dress still in her arms.
"I will have one of the maids deliver it to your chambers," Borus interjected smoothly. "The matter at hand takes precedence."
"I'll see to it personally, my lady." Madame Leena, who had been listening to the exchange with the practiced invisibility of a long-serving domestic, stepped forward, already taking the dress from Olivia's hands.
"Thank you, Madame Leena." Olivia said with genuine appreciation. One crisis averted, at least.
"Well then," Iria sighed dramatically. "I suppose we'd better see what all the fuss is about. Lead the way, O Honorable Borus."
The butler inclined his head slightly, then turned and held the door open for them. Olivia quickened her pace with Iria, focusing instead on mentally preparing for whatever diplomatic etiquette awaited them.
The trio navigated the labyrinthine corridors of Castle Phenexia in silence, ascending from the humid warmth of the servant's quarters to the more refined atmosphere of the main castle. Borus led them on a path that avoided the busier sections of the castle, presumably to prevent curious eyes from noticing their somewhat disheveled state after their time in the washing room.
"Should we perhaps change into more appropriate attire first?" Olivia suggested as they approached the grand staircase that led to the main hall. Her dress, while still presentable, showed signs of their hasty errand-a small damp patch where the dress had pressed against her, a few loose strands of hair that had escaped her otherwise immaculate coiffure.
"There is no time, I'm afraid," Borus replied without breaking stride. "The carriage bearing our guest was spotted entering the outer gates just moments ago. The Marquise was most insistent that you both be present for the arrival."
"Wonderful," Iria muttered under her breath. "Nothing makes a better first impression than looking like you've been wrestling with laundry all morning."
"You look perfectly acceptable, Lady Iria," Borus remarked without turning around. "Though perhaps a touch less perfume next time."
Iria opened her mouth for what was surely going to be a cutting retort, but a warning glance from Olivia silenced her. They were approaching the grand entrance hall now, and protocol demanded silence.
The entrance hall of Castle Phenexia was a impressive state of architecture-soaring ceilings supported by columns, floors polished to such a shine that they reflected the flames that burned in ornate sconces along the walls. At the far end stood the massive doors of burnished bronze, etched with the Phenex family crest-a fiery bird rising from ashes, its wings spread in majestic dominance and of course her Spirit symbol.
Borus led them to a position near these doors, perfectly situated to greet arrivals but not so close as to seem overeager.
"The Marquise will join you shortly, ladies." He informed them, his voice now formal and detached-the voice he used when performing his official duties. "Please remain here. I shall go inform Her Grace that the guest's arrival is imminent."
With that, he executed a perfect bow and departed, his footsteps making no sound on the polished floor despite the hard-soled shoes he wore-another small display of his training as an head-butler.
Once he was out of earshot, Iria turned to Olivia.
"So, this should be interesting."
"Indeed," Olivia agreed, discreetly attempting to smooth down her dress. "Though I wonder why Phenex didn't inform us earlier about hosting a Guest from House Paimon. They have... a different approach to court etiquette than we do."
"That's putting it mildly," Iria snorted, leaning in closer to ensure their conversation remained private. "But think about it. A surprise guest that Phenex herself wants us to greet? An arrival important enough to pull us from our regular duties?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I'm betting it's not just any court attendant. What if it's actually a prince?"
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "A prince? Why would you think that?"
"Because it makes perfect sense," Iria insisted, excitement coloring her voice. "You and I are young, perfectly fuckable wife material in the end, Oli. What if Scions of Paimon is sending his son to court our lovely Marquise? Or better yet, maybe he's searching for a wife!"
"Your imagination is running wild again." Olivia shook her head, though she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her beak. "Besides, if a prince of House Paimon were visiting, the entire castle would be in an uproar of preparation, not just a hasty summons for two ladies-in-waiting."
"Unless they're trying to keep it quiet..." Iria countered her argument. "Political marriages are delicate negotiations, after all."
"If that's the case, then we should both prepare ourselves for what an noble likely entails." Olivia replied with a note of warning in her voice "Remember this, girly. Be ready for blatant flirting attempts, possibly even being groped, or casual invitations to... intimate activities." She cleared her throat delicately. "Goetia isn't known for its restraint in such matters."
"Oh please, I don't really care about that. If it is a prince, all the better." Iria rolled her eyes dramatically. A wicked smile spread across her face. "I can casually seduce him, and he'll be chasing my tail for the rest of eternity. Meanwhile, I'll secure a juicy title like 'Princess'..." She sighed dreamily. "Much better than being a lady-in-waiting, don't you think? No more cleaning bloodstained dresses or arranging flowers in specific patterns because 'blue ones face east on Thursdays.'"
Olivia's silence was answer enough. For all her dedication to Phenex, even she couldn't deny the truth in Iria's words.
"Besides," Iria continued, straightening herself. "if I did manage to snag a prince, I'd make sure you came along as my personal lady-in-waiting. We'd turn the tables, and I'd have you arranging my headdress for a change."
"How generous of you." Olivia replied dryly, though there was genuine affection in her eyes. "Though I doubt I'd be as indulgent an employer as you seem to think."
"Oh, you'd be terrible, girl." Iria agreed cheerfully. "All those rules and regulations. I'd have to cause a mischief at least once a day just to keep you on your toes. Remember, Oli, your dress is not water proofed. Would be shame if I spilled some water on it. At least there won't be any imagination left on you."
"If you do this, you will join me, Iria." Olivia returned the saas.
"Nah, if someone saw us like that, their nose bleed off by our sight. Of course, dying because you saw two hot semi naked hens with wet dresses will be worth it."
"And hot as fuck, though." Olivia chuckled.
"Ha, true!" Iria joined in.
Their shared laughter echoed briefly in the cavernous entrance hall before they remembered where they were and quickly composed themselves. The sound of approaching hoofsteps from outside reminded them of their duty, and both women straightened, smoothing their expressions into appropriate masks of dignified welcome.
"Anyway, Olivia. Just in case it is a prince," Iria whispered from the corner of her mouth, "I call dibs."
"You're incorrigible," Olivia murmured back, but there was a smile in her voice.
The distant rumble of carriage wheels grew louder as the bronze doors opened fully. And just in time, footsteps approached from behind them, with Olivia and Iria turned in perfect unison to see Marquise Phenex walking toward them, Butler Borus following two precise steps behind.
"♪ Ah, good. You're both here, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex's melodic voice carried the distinctive aristocratic drawl of the Goetian elite. She then made a beeline to her, immediately noticing the slight disarray in her lady-in-waiting's appearance.
Without warning, Phenex's fingers reached out, adjusting the collar of Olivia's dress. She smoothed down a wayward strand of hair and straightened the silver pin that marked Olivia as her personal attendant.
"♪ There, show that you're Focalor's daughter, darling. We must present our best face to our guest, hmm yes. ♪" Despite the critique implied in her actions, Phenex's tone remained affectionate in its own distant way.
"Of course, Your Grace. My apologies for my disheveled state." Olivia remained perfectly still throughout this impromptu grooming, her expression betraying nothing.
"♪ No matter now. We are ready, and that is what counts. ♪" Phenex waved away the apology with a jeweled hand. She turned to face the entrance, positioning herself slightly ahead of her ladies-in-waiting, as was proper.
Outside, the royal carriage had just pulled to a stop before the entrance. The carriage door opened, and a moment of anticipation hung in the air as a figure emerged from the shadowy interior.
It was not, as Iria had speculated, a prince.
A tall, slender young Goetia woman stepped down from the carriage with careful grace. Her feathered form was draped in an outfit that walked the line between elegant and rebellious, a pink long-sleeved dress with a pattern of pale yellow stars printed all over it, which is worn under a black feathery cardigan on her shoulders, alongside a set of black leggings and high-heeled boots. On first glance, it managed to be both formal enough for court but with enough edge to make a statement. Her main color was primarily dark, only white pattern on her chest and on her face that emphasized her perpetually unimpressed expression.
Olivia also raised her eyebrow, expecting something much...different. But even from the first glance, that young woman carried herself with the unmistakable bearing of someone born to privilege but uncomfortable with the attention it brought.
"What the Notoria is a goth-looking girl doing here?" Iria leaned slightly toward Olivia whispering by barely moving her lips. "That's no... That's-"
"Shh!" Olivia hissed urgently, maintaining her smile. "Less talking right now."
But Iria was right. This was no ordinary visitor, nor a typical nobility statute. Standing before them, looking vaguely uncomfortable with the formality of her reception, was none other than Octavia: the daughter of Prince Stolas, and now a proper independent Marquise of House Octavia.
Marquise Phenex stepped forward, her headdress catching the light as she inclined her head in precisely the correct degree of bow required when greeting her. Phenex is after all, Octavia's superior, and it's her part to honor her vassal.
"♪ My dearest Octavia! How absolutely wonderful to see you, hmm yes. ♪" Her melodic voice carried through the hall as she approached her great-niece. "♪ What a pleasant surprise to have you grace our humble abode. ♪"
"Hey, Aunt." Octavia shifted uncomfortably under the formality of the greeting, adjusting the strap of her black backpack slung over one shoulder. "Thanks again for letting me crash here on such short notice."
"♪ How is your dad doing after...you know? ♪"
"Okay, I guess. It's not like he didn't loose his nobility for the first time." Octavia shrugged, her gaze drifting to the ornate floor. She adjusted her backpack again, a nervous gesture that spoke volumes. "But dad was in his usual repertoire. You know how he gets. I'm not even sure if I made the right call coming here while he's busy with his... stuff. But I needed some space."
"♪ My dear child, Castle Phenexia has always been open to family, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex stepped closer, placing a bejeweled hand gently on Octavia's shoulder. The familial gesture seemed almost foreign coming from someone so formal, yet there was genuine warmth beneath it. "♪ Consider this your home for as long as you require. It is merely temporary, of course, but one must have sanctuary until you will be properly set as new Marquise. ♪"
As Phenex spoke, Octavia noticed the two ladies-in-waiting standing a few paces behind the marquise. Both were studying her with intense focus. Their eyes traced her outfit, her posture, the way she held her backpack. The scrutiny made Octavia shift uncomfortably. She was used to being stared at, being the daughter of Prince Stolas plus her time at University guaranteed that, but something about these two felt different. It wasn't the usual judgment or gossip-gathering she was accustomed to; it was more like they were trying to solve a puzzle...a puzzle called 'Octavia'.
"What's with you two, top models?" Octavia asked bluntly, her voice cutting through the formal atmosphere.
Olivia and Iria exchanged a quick glance, momentary panic flashing across their faces. Their training in court etiquette had prepared them for countless social situations. Like for example how to address royalty, how to deflect unwanted advances, how to navigate complex political conversations. But being directly called out by a Young Goetian noble with such casual manner was not part of the curriculum.
Olivia's beak opened slightly, then closed again, while Iria's eyes widened just a fraction. The impeccably trained ladies-in-waiting found themselves at a rare loss for words. Seeing that they don't know how to handle it. Phenex broke the awkward silence with her laughter, her jeweled hand waving dismissively in the air.
"♪ You must forgive my lovely girls, Octavia dear. They are simply eager to make your acquaintance, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex turned, gesturing gracefully toward the two attendants. "♪ Marquise Octavia of House Octavia, allow me to introduce Lady Olivia of House Focalor and Lady Iria of House Forneus, my personal ladies-in-waiting and two of the finest young ladies in my court. ♪"
"Marquise Octavia, it is the greatest honor to be of service to one of your esteemed lineage." Olivia immediately stepped forward, executing a perfect curtsy that seemed to involve not a single wasted movement. Her posture remained flawless as she straightened, hands folded demurely before her. "House Andras-Phenexia alongside House Focalor on my behalf welcomes you here. I shall personally ensure that your stay meets the exacting standards befitting your station."
The formality seemed to cause Octavia to raise an eyebrow slightly. Still though...it was unusual for Octavia to hear it. But it was rather...cute of her to overpraise Octavia.
"The pleasure is all mine, Marquise Octavia," Iria stepped forward next, her curtsy just a touch less rigid than Olivia's, with a fluidity that somehow made the formal gesture seem almost casual. Then a smile played at the corner of her mouth "And may I say, your pink dress is absolutely killer."
Olivia shot Iria a quick sideways glance that clearly communicated: That is NOT the proper way to address a Marquise. Iria responded with the slightest of shrugs that equally clearly stated: Sue me.
"Uh, thanks." Octavia blinked, momentarily taken aback by the contrast between the two attendants. She glanced down at her dress, then back at Iria. "Dad bought it for me a long time ago, actually."
"♪ How delightful! ♪" Phenex interjected, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm. "♪ You see? Already finding common ground. ♪"
"No doubt..." Octavia's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked between the two ladies-in-waiting, then back to her great-aunt. "So... why exactly are two of your servants here to greet me? Is this some kind of Goetian thing I've been skipping out on at Dad's place?"
"♪ Oh my dear, they're not merely here to greet you. ♪" Phenex's jeweled fingers brushed lightly against Octavia's shoulder. "♪ I thought it prudent that during your stay, you should have somewhat of a... companion, hmm yes. Someone to help guide you through and assist you in the future. ♪"
At this, Olivia and Iria exchanged startled glances. This was clearly the first either had heard of such an arrangement. Olivia's eyes widened a fraction while Iria's brows rose visibly before both quickly schooled their features back into attentive neutrality.
"♪ In fact, ♪" Phenex continued, seemingly oblivious to their reaction, "♪ I thought you might choose either Lady Olivia or Lady Iria as your personal lady-in-waiting for the duration of your visit. Both are exceptionally qualified, though they do offer different... approaches to service. ♪"
"Look, I appreciate the offer, aunt, but I really don't need someone nagging me at every step I take." Octavia took a step back, adjusting the strap of her backpack defensively. "I get enough of that from Mom all my life."
"♪ Nagging? My dear child, that is not at all the purpose of a lady-in-waiting, hmm yes. They are companions, confidantes, assistants in matters both practical and social. ♪" Phenex gestured elegantly toward Olivia and Iria, who remained perfectly poised despite the unexpected turn in conversation. "♪ Lady Olivia and Lady Iria have been trained in the finest traditions of court service. They are there to make your life easier, not more constrained. ♪"
Octavia's expression remained skeptical, prompting Phenex to continue.
"♪ If there should be any problem whatsoever with the arrangement, you are most welcome to bring your complaints directly to me, and I shall handle it personally, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex's voice took on a note of gentle insistence. "♪ Trust me, my dear, when I say it would be much better this way. Ars Goetia can be... challenging to navigate without any assistance. ♪"
The pointed look Phenex gave wasn't lost on Octavia, who followed her great-aunt's gaze to see the two of ladies quickly pretend they weren't staring. A flash of understanding crossed the young Marquise's features as she realized that, welcome as she might be as family, she was also fresh meat for Ars Goetia.
"Fine, if it's that important to you." Octavia sighed, the word carrying the weight of reluctant acceptance.
"♪ Splendid! ♪" Phenex's jewelry jingled softly as she clasped her hands together. "♪ Now, whom shall you choose? Lady Olivia, with her impeccable knowledge of protocol and etiquette? Or Lady Iria, with her... shall we say, more adaptable approach to court life? ♪"
Both ladies-in-waiting stood a little straighter, though their expressions revealed nothing of their thoughts about potentially being assigned to the young Marquise. Octavia looked between two of them, studying them both carefully. Despite her outward nonchalance, there was a intelligence in her gaze-a trait she'd inherited from both her father and her ancestors.
"So, how exactly would you serve as my... companion?" Octavia addressed Iria first, crossing her arms.
"Well, Marquise Octavia." Iria stepped forward with a fluid grace, though a glint in her eye suggested she might have already made a decision about this arrangement. "first off, I would need to fix up your appearance properly. The casual gothic aesthetic is charming for private quarters, but for court functions, we would need something more... befitting your station."
Octavia's left eye twitched slightly at this, but Iria continued without pause.
"Then, of course, I would teach you how to properly behave in Ars Goetia." She straightened her posture dramatically. "For instance, when greeting an Elector Marquise here, one must curtsy precisely twelve degrees-no more, no less-while maintaining eye contact for exactly three seconds before lowering your gaze to demonstrate respect without subservience. There are also seventeen different ways to hold a teacup, each appropriate for different social situations. I could teach you all of them, plus the proper responses to give when someone compliments your feathers versus your dress versus your lineage."
Octavia's face soured visibly with each additional example. She turned toward Olivia, who had remained silent throughout Iria's elaborate explanation.
"And you, fluffy one?" she asked, her tone suggesting she expected more of the same.
Olivia met Octavia's gaze directly, her expression neither eager nor reluctant. After a moment's consideration, she gave a small, elegant shrug. "Whatever you need, Marquise Octavia, I will be there for you. My role is to assist, not dictate."
Silence fell over the group as Octavia considered both responses. She glanced once more between the two ladies-in-waiting before making her decision.
"No offense to you, but I'll take her." She said to Iria
"I expected as much." Iria's expression didn't change, save for the slightest upward quirk at the corner of her mouth. She turned to Olivia, giving an "Good luck handling our little goth princess by yourself. You're going to need it." look
Olivia maintained herself, though a flash of something-perhaps understanding, perhaps challenge-crossed her features before she responded with a perfect, measured nod.
"♪ Excellent! The matter is settled, hmm yes. ♪" Phenex clapped her hands together once more, the sound echoing through the entrance hall. "♪ Lady Olivia will attend to Marquise Octavia during her stay. Lady Iria, you shall continue your duties with me. You and Borus will leave to Lemegeton for my list of things to buy. You're free for the rest of today but I recommend you get to bed earlier.♪"
"As you wish, Your Grace." Iria executed a flawless curtsy.
"♪ Now then, ♪" Phenex continued with Octavia "♪ Lady Olivia will show you to your chambers in the eastern wing, my dear. I must attend to preparations for tonight's welcoming soirée. We shall speak more at dinner. ♪"
With that, Phenex walked away. Lady Iria lingered just long enough to give Olivia a look that clearly said "Have fun with her!" before following in the Marquise's wake, leaving Olivia and Octavia alone in the vast entrance hall. An awkward silence settled between them as they sized each other up-the perfectly poised lady-in-waiting and the rebellious young Marquise-each wondering exactly what they'd gotten themselves into.
"So, I guess you're stuck with me now, fluffy one." Octavia finally the silence, adjusting her backpack strap.
"I am at your service, Marquise Octavia," Olivia responded, her voice perfectly modulated despite the uncertainty in her eyes. "Shall I show you to your chambers?"
"Just call me Octavia, okay? And yes, lead the way. I could use a nap after dealing with all... this." Octavia sighed, already tired of the formality.
"As you wish... Miss Octavia," Olivia replied, the informal address feeling strange on her tongue after years. She turned toward the staircase, maintaining a distance ahead of her new charge-not so close as to seem presumptuous, not so far as to appear inattentive.
And so began what would surely be an interesting arrangement for them both.
Olivia led the way up the grand staircase as she guided Octavia through the labyrinthine corridors of Castle Phenexia. Elaborate sconces cast dancing shadows across the floors. Octavia merely hummed, her gaze drifting over the opulent decorations with practiced disinterest. Growing up in Stolas's mansion had made her immune to the overwhelming grandeur that typically awed visitors to Goetian nobility's homes.
"How much farther?" She asked after they turned down yet another corridor identical to the last. "This place is like a maze."
"Not much farther..." Olivia assured her as they walked, she discreetly observed her new mistress from the corner of her eye. Even from knowing her from short notice, the young Marquise has shown somewhat an air of nobility but there was also a deliberate casualness in her movements, a subtle rebellion against her birthright.
"Here we are," Olivia announced as they reached an ornate door. Olivia produced an ornate key fand unlocked the door. She stepped aside, allowing Octavia to enter first as protocol demanded. "Your chambers, My Lady-I mean, Octavia."
The suite that awaited them was very good-a spacious sitting room decorated in rich shades of midnight blue and silver, with comfortable-looking furniture arranged around a fireplace where flames crackled merrily. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the Gardens, where pale flowers bloomed eternally among statues of ancient demons. Beyond the sitting room, an archway led to what appeared to be a bedroom and private bathroom.
"I hope the accommodations are to your liking," Olivia expressed, closing the door behind them. "If anything is not to your preferences, please let me know, and adjustments can be made immediately."
Octavia wandered into the center of the room, taking in the space.
"It's... neat. Better than I expected, actually."" She conceded, which from her seemed high praise indeed.
"Your aunt was most insistent that you be given one of the finest guest suites," Olivia explained. She hesitated for a moment before adding, "May I assist you with unpacking your belongings? It would allow me to ensure everything is rranged for your convenience."
Octavia's shoulders tensed slightly as she turned to Olivia with renewed angry suspicion.
"Why? What's with the obsession of going through my stuff?"
"I assure you, there's no 'obsession,', my lady." Olivia replied, maintaining her stance despite the mean accusation. "It's simply my duty to ensure that your possessions are properly arranged so that you can locate anything you might need with minimal effort."
Octavia's eyes narrowed as she stared at Olivia, searching for any hint of ulterior motive. The lady-in-waiting met her gaze, revealing nothing but patient professionalism. After a moment of tense silence, Octavia sighed and shrugged off her backpack.
"Fine, but if I catch you snooping or judging anything in there, you're out. Deal?" Octavia warned, reluctantly extending it toward Olivia.
"Of course," Olivia accepted the backpack with a small bow. "I would never presume to judge your possessions. My role is to serve, not to critique."
With the backpack in hand, Olivia moved to the ornate wardrobe that stood against one wall of the bedroom. Octavia, meanwhile, flopped unceremoniously onto the massive four-poster bed, producing her hellphone from her pocket and immediately beginning to scroll through what appeared to be a social media feed. And just like that, Octavia was back into normal everyday life. The sounds of the castle-distant conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, faded into background noise as she lost herself in the digital world.
Olivia worked in the meantime, removing items from the backpack and placing them on the table. She hung clothes in the wardrobe, arranged hygiene items in the bathroom, and placed a small collection of books on the bedside table. As she reached the bottom of the backpack, her fingers brushed against what felt like a leather-bound book. Carefully, she withdrew it-a journal of modest size with a worn black cover. Something about it spoke of its importance.
Olivia knew she should simply place it on the nightstand without comment. That would be the proper thing to do, the professional thing. Yet as she held the journal, curiosity flickered through her mind. She glanced toward Octavia, who remained thoroughly absorbed in her hellphone, beak curved in a slight smile at something on the screen.
Almost of its own accord, Olivia's thumb slipped under the cover of the journal, lifting it just enough to glimpse the first page. She told herself it was merely to determine where best to place it-whether it was a diary that should be kept private or a notebook that might be needed to be more accessible. The page revealed crude but surprisingly expressive sketches-character designs, it seemed. A figure with sharp edges and dramatic poses, labeled "Viana"
Despite herself, Olivia turned another page, and another, finding more sketches interspersed with what appeared to be story outlines and fragments of dialogue. It was clearly some sort of creative project-fanfiction, perhaps, based on the references to characters Olivia vaguely recognized from popular entertainment.
As she scanned the pages, a particular passage caught her eye, and her breath caught in her throat. The writing style, the particular turn of phrase, the unique way the dialogue flowed-it was hauntingly familiar. Olivia then carefully flipped back to the front page, where a username was scrawled in small letters in the corner: "Gothchick03." The journal nearly slipped from her suddenly trembling fingers.
A lover of fanfics, Olivia knew Gothchick03 as author who wrote "A Bird In Gilded Cage", one of the most captivating fanfictions she had ever read. A story she had discovered during rare moments of privacy, a guilty pleasure she indulged in when the demands of court life became too suffocating.
She had spent countless nights engrossed in the tale of a young woman stuck in a family that hated each other, with their daughter a product of hatred and noble obligations. In a way, Olivia loved because it was...very close to her. In a sense that the fanfic explored the non-noble lifestyle, something that Olivia never knew. The writing had transported her away from the rigid constraints of her life, offering glimpses into emotions and experiences far removed from her carefully regulated existence.
And now, impossibly, the evidence suggesting that the young Marquise currently scrolling through her hellphone was the author behind those words that had moved her so deeply.
"Find anything interesting?"
Octavia's voice, flat and accusatory, snapped Olivia back to reality. She looked up to find the young Marquise watching her, hellphone lowered, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Guilt flooded through Olivia's chest as she realized how deeply she had breached the trust that had been so reluctantly given. Her normally flawless looks faltered as she struggled to find an appropriate response.
"I-I apologize, My Lady. I should not have pried. It was inexcusable." she stammered, reverting to formality in her discomfort.
"Yeah, it was." Octavia agreed, sitting up on the bed. "Soo what did you see that's got you looking like you've seen a biblically accurate angel?"
Olivia hesitated, clutching the journal close to her chest. Professional training dictated she should downplay the discovery, and pretend it meant nothing to her. But something-perhaps the same instinct that had drawn her to Octavia's fanfic in the first place-urged honesty.
"You're Gothchick03." Olivia said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The author of 'A Bird In Gilded Cage.'"
Octavia's reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, and a deep blush spread across her face. She leapt from the bed with surprising agility and snatched the journal from Olivia's hands.
"How do you-" She began, then stopped, her embarrassment quickly transforming into suspicion. "Wait, how do you even know about that? Don't tell me the high-and-mighty lady-in-waiting reads fanfiction."
"I... occasionally indulge in recreational reading during what little personal time I have..." It was Olivia's turn to blush, the crimson tint visible even through her feathers and her voice was stiff with embarrassment.
"And you read mine?" Octavia pressed, clutching the journal protectively to her chest.
"Yes. It's actually... one of my favorites." Olivia confessed, unable to meet Octavia's eyes.
The admission hung for short time, shifting the dynamic in ways neither had anticipated. Octavia stared at Olivia with newfound curiosity, as if seeing her for the first time.
"You're serious. You actually like my writing?" she asked finally, some of the hostility fading from her voice.
"The character development is remarkable, particularly the way you handled the internal conflict of Viana and her father. It's nice that they managed to find family love with each other in later parts of story." Olivia replied, a small smile forming on her beak. "And the scene in Chapter Twelve, where a much older Viana meet him on the balcony during the masquerade-" She stopped herself, realizing she was revealing just how deeply she had immersed herself in the story. "It was... quite memorable."
"To be honest, it's more an self insert thing I did just out boredom." Octavia's expression softened slightly, the defensiveness in her posture easing. She glanced down at the journal in her hands, then back at Olivia. "The writting is shit but...at least it's something."
"I'm sucker for these type of fanfics." Olivia agreed, smoothing her dress in a nervous gesture as she realized that it's her misress who she is talking with...not a friend. "Oh, I apologize again for the intrusion. It was unforgivably unprofessional."
"Yeah, it was," Octavia agreed, but the edge had gone from her voice. She returned to the bed, sitting on the edge this time rather than sprawling across it. "But... it's kind of cool that someone like you enjoys my writing."
"Someone like me?" Olivia echoed, unsure whether to be offended.
"You know..." Octavia gestured vaguely at Olivia's impeccable dress and perfect posture. "All proper and perfect and stuff. I figured you'd be into boring historical romances or etiquette manuals, not fanfiction about rebellious nobles"
"Perhaps there's more to both of us than meets the eye." Olivia couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her as she went to finish with Octavia's stuff. A moment of silence fell between them, but it was different now-less awkward, more contemplative.
"Do you actually enjoy being Phenex's servant, or whatever?" The question came out more bluntly than Octavia might have intended, the social ques clearly not her strong suit.
Olivia paused in her arranging of Octavia's belongings, straightening her posture as she considered the question. She wasn't offended by the directness-merely surprised by it after years of navigating the veiled inquiries and subtle implications of court conversation.
"I am not a servant, precisely," she corrected gently. "A lady-in-waiting holds a position of honor within the court. But to answer your question-yes, I find satisfaction in my role."
"That sounds like something you're supposed to say." Octavia rolled her eyes slightly.
"Perhaps," Olivia acknowledged with a small smile. "But it's also true, my lady. I'm paid well, provided with comfortable quarters, given access to education and resources many would envy, and-most importantly-I am safe within these walls." Something flickered briefly in her eyes, suggesting deeper meaning behind that last point.
"Safe?" Octavia echoed, picking up on the undertone.
"Ars Goetia can be... unpredictable for those without protection." Olivia nodded, resuming her work. "Associating with House Phenex grants me security that I would not otherwise have with my father since...it's easier to assassinate a defenseless Duke's daughter than the Duke himself."
Octavia considered this, absently fiddling with the edge of her journal. She'd never had to worry about safety, not with Stolas as her father. Even during their worst family dramas, her physical security had never been in question.
"What about you, my lady?" Olivia asked, turning the conversation with graceful tact.
"Wow, straight to the existential questions." The young Marquise snorted softly.
"If you prefer, we could discuss the weather," Olivia offered with a hint of dry humor. "Though it has been eternally crimson twilight for the past seven centuries, so there's not much variety there."
That earned a genuine laugh from Octavia, short but authentic. "I'm just... me, I guess. Daughter of Ex-Prince Stolas, eternal disappointment to my mother, reluctant hen. I like music, astronomy, writing obviously, and I'm studying arcane history at university when I'm not dealing with family drama." Her expression darkened slightly. "Which has been a lot lately. My parents would have been killed a few days ago if not for the Princess of Hell intervening."
"I had heard rumors of trouble in Lemegeton, but nothing so dire. I'm so sorry you had to experience that." Olivia's hands stilled, her expression softening with genuine concern.
"It's not your fault. Just another chapter in the ongoing disaster that is my family." Octavia sighed, looking away toward the window where the eternal crimson sky cast long shadows across the gardens.
"Family complexities can be... challenging," A moment passed as Olivia carefully considered her next words. "Especially among nobility."
"That's putting it mildly," Octavia replied with a sardonic smile. She turned back to Olivia, her expression shifting to something more apologetic. "Look, I should probably warn you....um?"
"Olivia." Olivia quickly corrected, no harm done if she already forgotten.
"Yes, I can be... snarky sometimes. Actually, a lot of the time. But whatever I say, I don't mean to hurt your dignity or whatever, Olivia. It's just... how I am."
"I appreciate the warning, though it's unnecessary." Olivia finished arranging the last of Octavia's belongings and closed the now-empty backpack, placing it neatly in the wardrobe "I've served in Phenex's court for many years-I'm quite accustomed to navigating difficult personalities." The corner of her beak lifted in a small smile. "Besides, a little snark might make my otherwise mundane servitude much more interesting."
"Mundane?" Octavia raised an eyebrow. "I thought you just said you enjoyed your job."
"One can find satisfaction in routine while still acknowledging its predictability," Olivia replied diplomatically. "I suspect your presence will introduce some welcome... variety to Castle Phenexia."
"Oh, I'm sure it will," Octavia said with a sudden, unsettling smile. "With me around, your life is about to become a cesspool of daddy issues, bullshit, love, romance..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "... and betrayal ."
The word 'betrayal' made Olivia feel a chill run down her spine, the atmosphere in the room shifting dramatically. The warm glow of the fireplace suddenly seemed sinister, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls.
"I'm sorry," Olivia said, taking an instinctive step back. "What did you just say?"
Octavia slid from the bed with unnatural predatory way that seemed entirely incongruous with the somewhat awkward young woman from moments before. Her eyes had changed, with a feral intensity that made Olivia's heart race.
"I said betrayal, you dumb bitch!" Octavia hissed, her voice no longer her own-deeper, raspier, filled with venom. "How could you betray me, Olivia? How could you lie to me?"
"I-I don't understand!" Olivia stammered, backing away as Octavia advanced on her. This wasn't the sullen young Marquise she'd been speaking with. This was something else entirely. "I haven't betrayed you, My Lady. I wouldn't."
"Wouldn't you?" Octavia's head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. "Everyone betrays me in the end. Everyone lies ."
With each word, she moved closer, forcing Olivia to retreat until her back pressed against the cold stone wall. The lady-in-waiting's posture had crumbled, replaced by naked fear as she stared into eyes that no longer looked like Octavia's.
"My Lady, please!" Olivia whispered, her voice trembling.
Octavia's face was inches from hers now, her breath unnaturally cold as it brushed against Olivia's feathers.
"Do you know what I do to those who break my heart, Olivia?" She asked, her voice almost gentle despite the menace it carried.
"What exactly do you-" Tears welled in Olivia's eyes, her professional mask completely shattered.
Her question was cut short by a sharp, burning pain. Olivia looked down in horror to see a knife-one that had been on the desk across the room moments ago-now protruding from her abdomen, Octavia's hand still gripping the handle.
"This is what happens," Octavia whispered, her face transforming into something inhuman as darkness closed in around Olivia's vision. "This is what always happens..."
"To those who align themselves to Ars Notoria"
"Such is the Power of Bael!"
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle.
[October 6, AD, 2025, AD (3:52 AM)]
Olivia jerked awake with a strangled gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs. She bolted upright, hands immediately going to her stomach, expecting to find blood and pain. Instead, there was only the smooth fabric of her nightgown, her body whole and unharmed.
Her chambers were dark save for the pale blue glow of moonlight filtering through the partially drawn curtains. Everything was as it should be-her dress hanging neatly on the wardrobe door, ready for the morning, her books given by Marchosias stacked precisely on the nightstand, the vase of ever-blooming black roses on her dressing table filling the air with their subtle perfume.
Thankfully she was in present day...
"...just a dream," Olivia drew a shaky breath, pressing a hand to her chest as if to physically slow her racing heart. The nightmare had been so vivid, so terrifyingly real that the remnants of it clung to her consciousness like cobwebs, impossible to brush away completely.
Olivia untangled herself from the bedding and sat up, still pressing her palm against her chest where the dream-blade had penetrated. Of course, there was no wound, no blood-just the rapid beat of her heart and the lingering terror of betrayal.
Nightmares were common among Goetia demons-an unfortunate side effect of their natural attunement to the void. The ancient texts in Ars Theurgia spoke of how their kind was more susceptible to the dark whispers that emanated from the spaces between realms. Nightmares were merely the void's way of communicating, of reaching out to those whose bloodlines were intertwined with its essence. Some say that Goetias never die but enter the realm of "dream"...but that has been argued for eternity.
But knowing the cause of nightmares didn't make the experiences any less disturbing.
Olivia rose from her bed, her bare feet making no sound as they touched the cool stone floor. Her nightgown, a delicate thing of pale silk that complemented her feathers, fluttered around her knees as she made her way to the window. Her chambers were positioned just one room away from Octavia's-close enough to respond to any summons, yet far enough to maintain the appearance of propriety. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly as she gazed out at the eternal twilight of Hell's night sky. New Limbo sprawled before her, its distant lights twinkling like fallen stars.
"The things we do for nobility," she repeated her earlier sentiment, this time to the open air rather than the sleeping form of her mistress.
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass-a beautiful owl demon with eyes that held too many secrets. The pristine white of her feathers seemed to glow in the moonlight, making her appear almost ghostly. How fitting, she thought, to look like a specter when she felt haunted by her own choices.
"What am I doing? Playing these games of loyalty and deception... and for what?" she whispered to her reflection. he question hung, unanswered.
Olivia knew the answer, of course. She was doing what generations of her family had always done-serving the greater noble houses, maintaining the delicate balance of Goetian politics, ensuring the continuation of traditions that stretched back to times before Hell itself had fully formed. And yet, there was Octavia. Sweet, Octavia, who had looked at her not as a servant but as a confidante, a friend-perhaps even something more. Octavia, who had trusted her with her fears, her hopes, her heart.
Olivia leaned her forehead against the cool glass, closing her eyes against the tide of conflicting emotions. She had meant every word she'd said earlier-her feelings for the young Marquise had long since transcended the boundaries of duty. But intertwined with that genuine affection was the undeniable reality of her other obligations, the promises she had made to others.
To Phenex.
"Protect her, observe her, report back to me, I need to know she will come back alive." had been the Lady's instructions. Simple instructions. Reasonable request. At least, that's what Olivia had told herself when she'd accepted the assignment.
She hadn't counted on falling in love.
A bitter laugh escaped her beak, soft enough that it wouldn't carry through the stone walls to where Octavia slept. The irony was almost poetic-the servant tasked with surveillance becoming enamored with her target. If it weren't her own heart being torn apart, Olivia might have appreciated the tragic beauty of it all.
"What am I supposed to do now?" She asked the empty room.. "Continue this charade? Keep sending reports back while sharing her bed? While holding her through her nightmares when I'm the cause of half her anxiety?"
Olivia turned away from the window. Her gaze fell on the phone. Her talons flexed unconsciously, the urge to throw it against the wall. How easy it would be to destroy the evidence of her betrayal? But she knew better. In the world of Goetian nobility, such choices were rarely so simple. Phenex would simply send another spy. At least with Olivia in position, she could protect Octavia from the worst of the Phenex's machinations.
Or so she told herself.
*Distant Alarm Clock Ring*
Olivia froze as the soft chime of Octavia's clock pierced the night's silence. Her heart skipped several beats, acute panic rushing through her veins like wildfire. In an instant, her body moved on pure instinct. She slipped back toward her bed. There was no time to compose herself properly. Her nightgown hung loosely around her frame as she positioned herself beneath the partially disturbed sheets, deliberately leaving portions of her white feathers exposed to the moonlight. Appearing vulnerable would be less seen as suspicious for Octavia. That it's something she learned as Lady-In-Waiting, showing a vulnerable state is also a good way to hide your true self...
She closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to slow and deepen, her body to appear relaxed despite every nerve ending screaming in alert. Through barely parted eyelids, she watched as her chamber door eased open with agonizing slowness.
Octavia's silhouette appeared in the doorway, backlit by the dim hallway light, her form unmistakable even in the darkness. The young Marquise was fully dressed, not in her evening attire, but in her combat armor. Olivia's heart clenched painfully at the sight, but she maintained her façade of peaceful slumber. She felt rather than saw Octavia's gaze upon her, intense and lingering. The younger owl demon moved with surprising stealth across the chamber floor, her armor somehow not betraying her movements with the expected metallic sounds
Octavia hesitated by the door, and for a terrifying moment, Olivia feared she had somehow betrayed her wakefulness. But then the younger owl turned back, her silhouette moving toward the bed once more. Olivia felt the whisper of fabric as the blanket, which had slipped away during her feigned sleep, was gently drawn back over her exposed form.
The gesture, so tender and thoughtful, made something twist painfully inside Olivia's chest. Here she was, reporting Octavia's movements and vulnerabilities to Phenex, while Octavia took the time to ensure she wasn't cold in the night. The shame of it was almost unbearable.
Then came the unexpected...soft feathers brushed against her cheek as Octavia leaned down, pressing the gentlest kiss to her face. The touch was fleeting, soft and filled with a depth of emotion that Olivia had never anticipated.
"I'm sorry..." Octavia's voice was barely audible, the words breathed more than spoken, carrying in them a weight of meaning that Olivia couldn't fully decipher.
What was she apologizing for? Leaving without saying goodbye? The necessity of secrecy? Or something deeper, something unknown?
Despite her rigid training, Olivia couldn't prevent the subtle curve of her beak into the slightest smile at the tender gesture. It was an unconscious reaction, one that she immediately feared might give her away. But Octavia seemed to take it as a sleep response, a reflection of pleasant dreams rather than conscious acknowledgment. The young Marquise retreated then, slipping back toward the door with the same careful movements. The soft click of the latch catching was nearly imperceptible, but to Olivia, it might as well have been a thunderclap.
Only when the footsteps had completely faded did Olivia dare to open her eyes fully, sitting up in the darkness as her mind whirled with implications and possibilities. Octavia was leaving the castle in the dead of night, armored and armed - clearly on some mission she felt necessary to keep secret, even from her closest companion.
"So we both have our secrets," Olivia whispered to the empty room, pushing back the covers. The irony wasn't lost on her mere moments ago.
Slipping from the bed, she moved to her wardrobe. The ornate piece of furniture contained not only her formal attire and everyday dresses, but this time she needed a more easy one. she retrieved her own set of garments...a much more simpler white dress. After putting it on swiftly, Olivia then peeked out the window, catching the distant silhouette of Octavia making her way toward the crossroads beyond the castle grounds. From here, she could see Octavia without risk of detection.
She watched as Octavia positioned herself at the crossroads, waiting for someone. Minutes passed, stretching into what felt like an eternity as Olivia maintained her vigil. When the sleek black vehicle finally appeared, Olivia felt her blood turn to ice in her veins.
The passenger door swung open, revealing Amy in attire that Olivia had never seen the President wear: combat ready and practical. This was not a diplomatic meeting. This was something else entirely. Olivia couldn't hear their exchange, but she saw Octavia cast one final glance back toward the castle before sliding into the vehicle. The door closed nearly immediately and the black car pulled away, melting back into the City of Limbo proper.
Olivia trembled with worry, not liking it all. A cold certainty settled in her chest, following them would be foolish. If the President of Ars Goetia herself was involved in whatever secret mission had drawn Octavia away, she must understand why. Hence, she immediately left their bedroom.
Trough the empty corridors and at least few minutes later, she came towards the castle entrance. Here, she adjusted into her usual way, smoothing down her feathers and adopting the concerned expression of a lady-in-waiting who had simply awoken to find her mistress missing.
Loona remained where Octavia had left her, leaning against the wall with another cigarette dangling between her claws. The hellhound's ears twitched at Olivia's approach, her head turning slightly before Olivia had made any sound.
"Miss Olivia..." Loona greeted her, straightening slightly. The formality was fake at best. "Bit late for a stroll, isn't it? Or early, depending on how you look at it."
"I woke to find the Lady Octavia absent from her chambers," Olivia replied, showing a polite concern rather than panic. "I had thought perhaps she stepped out for some air. Have you seen her?"
Loona took a long drag of her cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the darkness. When she exhaled, the smoke curled around her muzzle before dissipating into the night air.
"Yeah, she passed by maybe three or four minutes ago," Loona confirmed, her tone casual but her eyes sharp and assessing. "All dressed up in her fancy armor too. Claimed she needed some air, same as you just did." A sardonic smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Funny coincidence, that."
"Quite..." Olivia managed, her expression revealing nothing despite the impact of Loona's words. "Did she mention where she was heading?"
"Nope." Loona flicked ash from her cigarette with a deliberate motion. "I'm actually surprised she didn't tell you. You two seemed......close, I guess." She paused, searching for the right word, her tone softening almost imperceptibly. "Must be a trust issue but can't say I blame her. Octavia is very emotional and can be...very secluded."
Olivia lowered her head, closing her eyes briefly as the hellhound's words struck uncomfortably close to home.
"I can't do this anymore," Olivia whispered, more to herself than to Loona.
"What was that?" Loona's ears perked up, her head tilting slightly.
"I...nothing I-I apologize for disturbing you," Olivia said more clearly. "Thank you for the information."
Without further explanation, Olivia turned and walked away, her steps quickening as she moved beyond the hellhound's line of sight. She could feel Loona's gaze following her, curious and perhaps a touch concerned, but she didn't look back.
Loona watched the owl demon's retreat with a furrowed brow, taking another long drag from her cigarette as she considered the strange interaction. Something was definitely off about the whole situation. Octavia sneaking out in full armor in the middle of the night, and now her lady-in-waiting clearly distressed by her absence. And if this is not some Ars Goetia fetish thingy then Loona would be disappointed...
She pushed herself away from the wall, standing at her full height as she stared in the direction Olivia had disappeared. Loona had never been one for politics or the elaborate games of the Goetian nobility. Like her dad himself, she preferred her conflicts direct, her problems solvable with either teeth or bullets.
But Octavia had been kind to her, treating her not as a servant or a guard but as an equal. And despite her gruff exterior, Loona didn't forget such kindnesses easily. But something about this situation prickled at her instincts, raising the fur along her spine in a way she couldn't ignore. And now Olivia's concerns are now Loona's concerns.
"Fucking aristocrats and their secrets," Loona muttered, grinding her finished cigarette under her heel.
"You seem troubled."
The deep, gravelly voice startled Loona from her following Olivia. She turned sharply, hackles rising instinctively before she recognized the imposing figure approaching through the shadows. Cyrus, leader of the Aldecaldos Nomads, approached her.
"Fuck, Cyrus," Loona growled, forcing her fur to lie flat again. "Wear a bell or something."
A subtle quirk of his lips was his only acknowledgment of her irritation. Cyrus then came to stand beside her, his eyes scanning the path where Olivia had disappeared.
"Why was the Marquise's servant bothering you?"
"No, she wasn't bothering me. She left a few minutes ago, and now her servant is all worried about her." Loona snorted, fishing another cigarette from her jacket pocket. She flicked her lighter, the flame briefly illuminating both their faces before she extinguished it with a snap. "Just noble drama, I guess. Nothing important."
Cyrus's ears twitched forward, his expression shifting from neutral to..."neutrally" concerned at least.
"And you just... let her go?" There was a slight raise to his voice.
"What was I supposed to do? Tackle her to the ground?" Loona shot back, suddenly defensive. She took an aggressive drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke deliberately away from Cyrus out of grudging respect. "She's not a fucking child, Cyrus. I've seen her handle herself in a fight. Girl's got skills."
"Hmm." The noncommittal sound rumbled in his chest as he studied Loona. "Still. Lord Marchosias entrusted her safety to us."
"To you ," Loona corrected. "I'm just the hired help, remember? Besides," she added, her eyes narrowing, "What's it to you? Since when do the Aldecaldos care about babysitting nobility?"
Instead of taking offense, Cyrus merely tilted his head slightly, studying her with an intensity that made Loona want to squirm. She resisted the urge, meeting his gaze defiantly.
"I see a bond. Between you and the Marquise. That’s a rare thing. Trust between different kinds." He reached into his own jacket, retrieving a hand-rolled cigarette that smelled of herbs and spice rather than tobacco. "Worst thing that can happen to a hellhound is to lose such a bond... and drift away. Alone."
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience..." Loona ventured, curiosity temporarily overriding her usual standoffish attitude. The way he said it, with such quiet certainty, caugh her off guard.
Cyrus lit his cigarette, the aromatic smoke curling around them both. For a moment, Loona thought he wouldn't answer. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he joined her in her vigil against the wall.
"Yes, experience is a harsh teacher. Lessons cost... much." Cyrus took a long, measured drag from his herbal cigarette, the smoke escaping in a thin stream through his nostrils before responding. "You should be sleeping. Need energy for tomorrow."
"What are you, my fucking dad?" Loona shot back, though the usual bite in her voice was somewhat dulled. She studied him more intently now, noting the way moonlight caught on the silver scar bisecting his right eye.
"Hmm." The familiar non-committal sound vibrated in his chest as he gazed out into the darkened courtyard. "I'm on Guard Duty. My shift for the night."
"Really? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, leading or something?" Loona snorted, her tail flicking with barely contained amusement.
"Being leader doesn't mean I don't pull my weight. Every Aldecaldo works. Every Aldecaldo serves." A ghost of a smile flickered across Cyrus's usually stoic expression. His eyes then scanned the horizo. "Besides... night's too quiet."
Loona followed his gaze, suddenly aware of the unusual stillness that had settled over the grounds. Even the perpetual distant screams that formed Hell's background noise seemed muted tonight.
"Even the moon of Hell is half-lit today," Cyrus continued, his voice dropping even lower. "Makes it more... concerning."
"Concerning how?"
"Marchosias once told me that the Ancient Hellhounds believed that if the moon was bright and half-covered by clouds, it was a sign of danger." Cyrus's ears twitched forward, attentive to sounds Loona couldn't detect. His scarred face remained impassive, but his grip on his holster tightened almost imperceptibly.
"You can't be serious. That's just superstitious bullshit." Loona couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped her, waving her hand dismissively, though her eyes continued to dart toward the eerie half-shrouded moon. "Next you'll be telling me we need to sacrifice a pup or some shit."
"Some say it's the Wild Hunt growing restless and angry on us here in realm of Inferno. To appease them, our ancestors did leave the offerings of the hunt on altars to appease them." Instead of taking offense, Cyrus merely continued his vigilant watch, his expression contemplative. "Whenever it's true or not doesn't matter. Believing in nothing means you have nothing in life. No purpose. Just... nothing. Even skepticism is a form of faith, Loona. Faith in the absence of meaning."
Loona opened her mouth with a retort ready, but found the words dying on her tongue. She closed it again, her brow furrowing as she considered his words. There was a strange wisdom in what he said-the kind that reminded her uncomfortably of Blitzo in his rare serious moments. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable but weighted with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Loona cleared her throat.
"You know, Skoll and Hati talked a lot about your little band of nomads. Most of what I saw was bullshit, but since you're here. Why the nomadic biker lifestyle? Why not settle down in the Gluttony Ring or someplace less... fucked?"
"Freedom, as stupid as it sounds." Cyrus turned to face her fully now, he gestured toward the vast expanse beyond the castle walls. "You can't rip stray nature from Hellhounds, Loona. In the end, we answer to no one. No overlords. No politics. No paperwork."
Loona snorted at paperwork comment, but found herself nodding in understanding.
"The road is honest. It doesn't lie about what it is. Dangerous, yes. Unpredictable, always. But never deceptive." Cyrus continued, his eyes flicked meaningfully toward the castle behind them. "Unlike the halls of power."
"But it's gotta be exhausting," Loona pressed, surprising herself with her continued interest. "Always moving, never having a place to call your own."
"Home isn't always a place. Sometimes it's the hounds themselves. The pack becomes home." Cyrus replied, his voice softening slightly. He tapped his chest with a clawed finger. "We carry it here. Everywhere we go."
Loona fell silent, considering his words. She thought of I.M.P., of Blitzo's annoying but genuine care, of Millie's unfailing kindness, even of Moxxie's prissy reliability. They weren't perfect-hell, they were barely functional most days-but they were constants in her life. A strange, dysfunctional sort of home.
"Fucking poetic for a guy who communicates mostly in grunts," She finally said, though there was no real mockery in her tone. "So what's your deal with Marchosias, anyway? You seem pretty loyal for a guy who values freedom so much."
"He saved my life once..." Cyrus's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind his amber eyes-a memory, perhaps, or an old wound.
"Debt, huh?" Loona raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"No." Cyrus shook his head slowly. "Not just that. He's... different from other nobles. Sees beyond titles. Beyond species. Treats us with respect. Rare thing in Hell."
"And what exactly did he save you from?"
Cyrus exhaled slowly, the smoke from his cigarette curling around his muzzle like ghostly fingers. For a moment, Loona thought he might not answer-his jaw tightened, ears flattening slightly against his skull. Then, with a resigned sigh, he spoke.
"Saved me from myself. Gave me... purpose. Meaning." His voice grew quieter, more introspective.
"Purpose?" Loona echoed, raising an eyebrow. She hadn't expected this level of personal disclosure from the stoic hellhound. "What, you were just wandering around aimlessly before?"
"Something like that." A humorless chuckle escaped Cyrus's throat. He flicked the remains of his cigarette away, watching as the ember flared briefly in the darkness before extinguishing. "I came from an Adoption Center, same as many hellhounds. Designated as a 'Breeder'-meant to produce unique dog breeds for rich assholes. Pets, guard dogs... whatever they wanted."
"So I have heard...How'd you get out of that shit?" Loona continued, her own memories of the adoption center making her voice sharper than intended.
"Never did. Not officially." Cyrus's eyes took on a distant quality, as if seeing beyond the castle walls to some memory buried deep. "There was a riot. Blood, chaos. Perfect cover for escape. Was just a pup. Ended up on the streets.
"Fuck..." Loona muttered, a newfound respect coloring her voice. She knew firsthand how brutal Hell's streets could be for a young hellhound without protection.
"Hmm, then got picked up by a motorcycle club. 'Lost and Damned,' they called themselves. That's where I met Vortex. We were prospects together."
"You're shitting me." Loona couldn't hide her surprise.
Cyrus shook his head. "Good fighter, even then. Loyal." He gave Loona a knowing look. "Good judge of character."
"That he does..." Loona felt a flush creep up her neck. She cleared her throat, quickly steering the conversation back. "So what happened to this club?"
"What happens to most things in Hell." Cyrus replied with a shrug that seemed to carry him trough life. "Collapsed. Power struggles. Betrayal. with nothing. No home. No purpose. Then saw young Marchosias, got to talk with him, said "Fuck it" and decided to rebuilt. The rest is history."
Loona was quiet for a moment, her tail flicking thoughtfully behind her as she leaned against the stone wall. She would sigh to himself before just let it out. Cyrus did opened himself up a lot to her.
"I came from the Adoption Center too." She admitted, surprising herself with the disclosure. She rarely spoke about her past with anyone. "Left it... happier than I would've admitted back then."
"Hati mentioned something about your past." Cyrus nodded slowly, unsurprised.
"That gossipy fucker." Loona muttered, though there was no real heat in her words.
"Your secrets are safe with us, Sister. We honor the past of our own." Cyrus assured abruptly, gaze fixing on her. "The important is that you are happy with your adopted father."
That caught Loona off-guard. Her immediate instinct was to deflect with sarcasm, to roll her eyes and make some cutting remark about Blitzo's many annoying habits. But something about the quiet conversation, the shared understanding of what it meant to be a hellhound in this world-made her answer honestly.
"Yes, I am." she said simply, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Cyrus's expression softened almost imperceptibly to that.
"Good, keep it to your heart. No matter what. Hold onto it." Cyrus advised, his gravelly voice carrying an unexpected weight of emotion. He turned his gaze back to the distant treeline. "It's better to someone to cling on. Unlike you, I never had parental figures. No one to guide. To care."
"That’s something that pisses me off the most." Loona suggested with a bitter edge to her voice. "Our biological parents dropping us like flies."
"I knew who my father was. Never much wanted him in my life." Cyrus shook his head slowly, voice remained even, devoid of self-pity. "Petty thug in Pride Ring, died to a loan shark. Mother was a prostitute in Lust, died from illness, syphilis but doubt it. I wasn't their only one that came from their Undevily union. Had two siblings..."
"You have siblings?" Loona's ears perked up in surprise.
"Had." Cyrus corrected, his expression unreadable. "Two sisters from what have I learned. To this day, don't know what happened to them. Whether they're alive...or dead."
Loona once more shook her head for much it hits right into her own heart...
"Hope you find them someday, Cyrus." She said quietly after a long silence, surprising herself with the sincerity in her voice. "So you could... you know... at least feel happy about that."
Cyrus turned to look at her, something like gratitude flickering briefly in his eyes. He nodded slowly, taking a few deep breaths of his cigar before exhaling a plume of aromatic smoke into the night air.
"You’re free right now?"
"What now, Cyrus? Another rescue mission?"Loona exhaled dramatically, though not without a hint of amusement.
"No, just a favor. That's all." Cyrus explained, his eyes tracking the movement across the courtyard, just in case. "Put Hati on guard duty for the third floor. But even I can see he's in a low mood after everything that happened. No matter how much I berate him...he is my brother...for life."
"And?" Loona prompted, already suspecting where this was going.
"Need you to join him. He... perks up at the sight of you." Cyrus continued, the barest hint of what might have been humor in his eyes."
"Ah, so he needs the presence of women to make his little prick go up, huh?" Loona rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible. "An biker leader and you're playing matchmaker now? Seriously?"
Cyrus merely raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"Okay, fine!" Loona relented, pushing herself away from the wall. "We're even after this, got it? I haven't forgotten I bleed my back against those Millitech assholes for you. But if Hati tries any weird shit, I'm shoving him out a window."
"He knows better." Cyrus responded simply. Loona's comment earned her the barest hint of a smile from the scarred hellhound-a rare sight that made her own lips quirk upward despite herself. There was something oddly satisfying about cracking that stoic façade, even just a little.
Loona pushed herself away from the wall with a resigned sigh, brushing imaginary dust from her jacket. The conversation with Cyrus had left her with an unfamiliar weight in her chest-not unpleasant, just... different. Like something had shifted imperceptibly in her understanding of the world.
"Alright, I'm going," She muttered, fishing her cigarette. "See you around, big guy."
"Break a leg, little sis.” Cyrus merely fixed her with that unnervingly steady gaze of his-the one that made her feel like he was seeing straight through her sarcastic armor to the uncertainty beneath. He didn't speak after that, just held her eyes for one beat, two, three... then inclined his head in a silent farewell.
She went her way, striking a match to light her final cigarette. Then she shook the match out, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled around her in the still night air. Had she been looking-had she been paying attention to the shadows that seemed just a shade too dark near the eastern wall-she might have noticed the figure that stood unnaturally still amid the gloom.
That figure was...off worldly, not belonging to Hell’s environment. In fact his presence was an impossibility in a realm where his kind was forbidden except during the annual Purge. His armor, reminiscent of ancient Earth samurai yet constructed of materials unknown to Hell, made no sound as he shifted position. The moonlight caught on the sleek, polished surface of his mask-an LED display that narrowed into thin, glowing slits as his gaze tracked Loona's retreating form.
For a heartbeat, perhaps two, he considered the hellhound. A potential obstacle. His hand hovered briefly over the hilt of the blade strapped to his back-a weapon that could bring true death even in this realm of eternal damnation. But then Loona disappeared into the castle, and the Exorcist's attention shifted. The LED display on his mask flickered, changing from cool blue to a yellow as his gaze locked onto the imposing structure before him.
The castle of Marchosias-his real target. Or rather, what lay within its ancient walls.
Inside the castle, Loona made her way through the winding corridors toward the third floor. The third floor was quieter than the rest of the castle, reserved primarily for honored guests and high-ranking members of Marchosias's household. The hallway stretched before her, lined with ornate doors and illuminated by softly glowing sconces that cast dancing shadows on the walls.
She caught Hati's scent before she saw him-that distinctive blend of leather, oil and...non-city smell. Loona rounded the corner and spotted him leaning against the wall near one of the larger doors. Hati's ears perked up at her approach, his head turning sharply in her direction.
"Look who finally blessed me with her presence!" Hati called out, pushing himself off the wall with exaggerated flair. "What's good, Loona?"
"Yeah, I know I'm awesome. Try not to hurt yourself bowing down." Loona rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"For real though," Hati chuckled, flashing a gold-capped canine. "It ain't every day I get to witness someone straight-up taking down a helicopter like it's nothing."
"I missed like two times, remember?"
"Still a better shot than most of us. You're natural, girl."
A hint of color rose to Loona's cheeks, barely visible beneath her white fur. She quickly diverted the conversation. "Speaking off. How's Skoll doing?"
"Pssh, that fool will be fine by tomorrow. The bastard could endure a human nuke if he needed to. Thick-skulled runs in the family." Hati dismissed her concern with a wave of his clawed hand. "Why you still up anyway? Thought you'd be catching Z's after all that action."
"Can't sleep," Loona admitted with a shrug. "Too wired, I guess. Went for a smoke and Cyrus pestered me. Thought I might keep you company up here for a while."
"That's the old wolf's way of showing no hard feelings, ya know?" Hati's exaggerated persona softened somewhat, his fingers drumming thoughtfully against the wall. "Man never says sorry straight up-just finds ways to make it right."
"So this guard duty is really your punishment for yesterday?" Loona asked, leaning against the opposite wall.
"This? Nah, this ain't nothing. Ten times better than going for scavenging run to Inner Limbo. Stalkers pay good money for Pre-War trinkets from zone we sometimes volunteer for a quick dangerous buck." He gestured to a plush chair positioned near the window. "Have a seat. Standing all night's gonna wreck those legs, even if they do look good in those boots."
Loona hesitated briefly before crossing to the chair. As she sat down, she noticed the careful positioning-the chair offered a clear view of both the hallway and the window, very clever on Hati's part.
"By sending you up here. Cyrus is showing that he trusts you. Old wolf doesn't do that easily, especially with outsiders." Hati continued, his voice dropping the affected accent momentarily,
"I still can't read him properly," Loona admitted, her eyes narrowing slightly. "One minute he's all growls and glares, the next he's..."
"Big brother?" Hati finished with a knowing smirk. "Yeah, that's Cyrus and it's a good thing. Keeps enemies guessing, keeps us safe." His gold-capped tooth peaked as he smiled, but there was something wistful in his eyes now. "Sometimes I wonder what I'd be if I hadn't joined the Aldecaldos, you know? Street thug? Dead in a ditch somewhere? But none of that matters now. To me, it's family and clan above everything-even my own life. That's what it means to be Aldecaldo."
"Why are you so sure you'll die?" Loona asked him, not judgmental or anything.
"Because there ain't no happy endings in Hell, Loona. Just the road and the end of the line." He gazed out the window at the blood-red moon, partially obscured by wispy clouds. Hati's expression turned somber, the affected gangster persona falling away completely to reveal something older, more weathered beneath. "But it's the destination that matters. How you go out, who you go out for-that shit counts."
Loona hummed to that. Death is something she never thought about it.
"What about you? What does Loona want from this fucked-up afterlife?" He asked, his voice stripped of its usual performative swagger. "Got any dreams beyond the next day?"
Loona exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting to the crimson moon. The question caught her off-guard-not because it was unexpected, but because she'd been asking herself the same thing lately.
"I've been wondering that too," she admitted, surprising herself with her candor. "I don't want to just... sit around being Daddy's receptionist girl before dropping dead. There's gotta be something better than this, right?" She gestured vaguely at the opulent hallway around them.
"That's something you gotta find for yourself." Hati nodded slowly, understanding lighting his eyes. "Nobody can tell you what your purpose is-not me, not Cyrus, not even those fancy Goetian lords with all their wisdom."
"You sound almost smart sometimes, you know that? It's kinda disturbing." Loona quirked an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips
"Don't tell nobody. Bad for my image." Hati barked out a laugh, his smile faded slightly as he continued, "Been listening to Marchosias talk when he thinks nobody's paying attention. Wolf's got wisdom, for a Goetia. Makes me wonder if every one of us feels the same way-like we're searching for something we can't name."
"And what's that?" Loona prompted, genuinely curious now.
"Purpose in this life, I suppose." Hati leaned back against the wall, his eyes distant. "Remember our talk on my bike before Buzzards ambushed us? I told you the city-any city in Hell-it's all walls and boundaries. Social ladders to climb, territories to defend, politics to navigate. Suffocating shit. But on the road, there's just the horizon. No buildings blocking the sky, no crowds pressing in, no stink of too many demons packed together rotting from the inside out."
"I've never really been... outside that much." Loona considered this, thinking of the cramped apartment she shared with Blitzo, of the crowded streets of Imp City with its perpetual noise and chaos. "Not for long, anyway. Just jobs with I.M.P., in and out. Never stayed to see what it's like."
"It's different," Hati said simply. "The air tastes cleaner, even in Hell. You can hear yourself think. See the stars-what passes for 'em down here, anyway. Cities are where demons go to forget what they are. Out there, you remember."
"Remember what?" Loona asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
"That we're survivors," Hati replied without hesitation. "You ever feel it? That pull when you look at the horizon? That itch under your skin when you've been in one spot too long? Hellhounds are nomads for life, never settling down...you can just teach a old dog new tricks. Part of us, part of who we really are...but cities cage that part of us. Turn us into pets or guards or...receptionists.""
"Yeah, thanks. Fuck you, Hati." Loona's ears flattened slightly at the jab, but she couldn't deny the truth in his words. How many times had she felt that restlessness, that sense of being trapped in routines that didn't quite fit? "You know, I think I do feel that sometimes. That... restlessness. Like I'm meant to be somewhere else, doing something else. My dad would probably have a fucking breakdown if he heard me say that."
"Family's complicated like that. They want to keep you close 'cause they care, but sometimes that's the thing that suffocates you most." Hati chuckled.
"True..." Loona then looked at him directly. "You actually sound smart after a drink, you know that? Speaking of which..." She reached into her jacket, pulling out a small flask of whiskey as Husk's gift for good job, and offered it to him.
"Damn, girl. You come prepared." Hati's eyes lit up with amusement as he accepted the flask. He took a long swig before handing it back, wiping his muzzle with the back of his hand. "Ugh, good stuff...though I wouldn't mind a beer right now. Something cold to cut through all this heavy talk."
"Next time, maybe." Loona promised, taking her own generous drink. The familiar burn down her throat was comforting, grounding her in the moment. "Fair warning though-I get pretty rough when I'm drunk as you saw me yesterday."
"Is that supposed to scare me off? Unlike Marchosias, I wouldn't mind seeing that side of you every now and then." His voice dropped to a teasing growl. "I can handle roughness of fair Moon of The Hound like you, Loona."
"Smooth, Hati...very smoth." Loona felt heat rise to her cheeks beneath her white fur, but matched his grin with one of her own. "Big talk from someone who still wears that ridiculous dogtags on you. What are you, living in the 90s?"
"Hey, vintage is awesome!" Hati protested with mock offense, adjusting his dogtags. "Besides, you're one to talk with that ridiculous collar choker. What are you , living in 2005?"
Their shared laughter echoed softly down the corridor, a brief moment of lightness in the otherwise quit place of the castle. Hati's expression suddenly shifted, his ears perking up as he glanced down the hallway. His playful demeanor faded.
"Walk with me for a bit? Getting stiff just standing around."
"Sure. These fancy corridors all look the same to me anyway." Loona nodded, rising from her chair with fluid grace.
At first they remained silent for now, their footsteps eerily synchronized against the stone floor, Hati maintained a carefully measured distance between them-close enough to appear relaxed, but positioned in a way that would allow him to move quickly if needed.
"There's something I wanted to talk to you about." He said after they'd rounded the corner, his voice just above a whisper now.
"I'm guessing this isn't about my choker anymore." Loona glanced at him sideways, noting how his ears swiveled constantly, listening for sounds beyond her perception.
"Nah, this is something I've been thinking about since that day with the Buzzards." Hati shook his head. "You handled yourself like you were born to it. The way you took control of that situation, how you fought alongside us without hesitation-that shit was impressive."
"It was just instinct or whatever..." Loona felt a flush creep into her cheeks beneath her white fur, uncomfortable with the earnest praise.
"That's exactly it," Hati pressed. "You've got skills. You're smart, capable, and frankly, scary as hell in a fight. "The Aldecaldos don't offer this to outsiders quite easily. But I think you're different. I want you to ride with us, Loona. Become an Aldecaldo nomad."
"You what now?" Loona's eyes widened, her ears standing straight up in shock.
"I'm serious," Hati continued, his voice low and earnest. "You've got the spirit of a true nomad-I can see it in you. That restlessness, that hunger for something more than walls and rules."
"But I've got Blitzo and I.M.P.," Loona objected, though her voice lacked conviction. "I can't just bail on them."
Hati nodded in understanding.
"I'm not saying tomorrow. I'm not even saying next month. But the offer stands-whenever you're ready." His usual cocky grin returned, though now it seemed more genuine than performative. "Besides, the Aldecaldos could use someone who can actually aim a gun. Half these fools couldn't hit the broad side of a Goetian palace."
Loona snorted but nevertheless she did give an thought about it.. The open road, freedom from the cramped office and repetitive paperwork, a chance to embrace that unnamed restlessness that had plagued her for so long. She then stared at Hati, a strange tightness in her chest. No one had ever seen her this way before-as someone valuable for her skills rather than just Blitzo's adopted daughter or the company receptionist. The possibility was both thrilling and terrifying.
"I... need to think about it," she said finally, not accepting but not rejecting the offer either.
"Of course. This ain't a small thing. Just remember-hellhounds are pack animals at heart. But you get to choose your pack."
A comfortable silence settled between them as Loona processed his words. The concept of choice-of actively selecting her path rather than simply reacting to circumstances-was strangely empowering.
"So..." Loona said finally, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she attempted to lighten the mood, "If I accept: does this mean I get one of those tacky leather jackets with the wolf patch?"
"Heaven yeah! And we'll get you a proper bike too. None of that scooter bullshit." Hati barked out a laugh.
"Hey, don't be a dick to scooters." Loona protested, though she was grinning now too.
"Aha, truly terrifying thing to behold a scooter. The Buzzards flee in terror at the 'beep beep' of horn."
"Fuck off," Loona punched his arm, but there was no real force behind it. She was laughing too.
Hati was about to return the banter, only a thunderous crash cut through the silence, the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood echoing from somewhere down the corridor. The unmistakable sound of screaming, high-pitched and terrified, followed immediately after, accompanied by a deeper roar that couldn't possibly have come from any of the castle's inhabitants.
Loona and Hati locked eyes for a split second, all levity vanishing in an instant. Without a word, they both sprang into action, the conversation forgotten as they sprinted toward the source of the commotion.
"What the fuck was that?" Loona snarled, her claws extending instinctively as they rounded the corner.
Hati was already drawing a wicked-looking blade from a concealed sheath at his back, his playful demeanor completely evaporated. "Nothing good," he growled, his voice dropping an octave. "Sounded like it came from the east wing-Octavia's quarters."
The name sent a jolt of adrenaline through Loona's system. Whatever their differences, she'd grown to respect the owl demoness over the past few days. The thought of something threatening her was enough to make Loona's her lips curl back in a silent snarl.
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Marchosias Castle.
*Few Minutes Before That*
Olivia's footsteps echoed in the empty corridors as she hurried back to her chambers, her mind racing faster than her feet could carry her. The cold stone floors seemed to leech the warmth from her body with each step, but she barely noticed-the chill in her heart was far more intense.
Whatever Octavia was involved in, it went far beyond typical noble intrigue. For the President of Ars Goetia to personally retrieve Octavia in the dead of night, both dressed for combat-this was no diplomatic errand or social call. This was something dangerous. And knowing Ars Goetia, it doesn't bode well at all.
Reaching her room, Olivia closed the door behind her with deliberate softness. Her chambers felt different now-smaller, more confining. She paced the length of her room, heels clicking against stone. Octavia's kiss still burned on her cheek, a touch that seemed to mock her duplicity.
She retrieved her hellphone from the table-not her official device, but for personnel uses, used only for direct communications with Lady Phenex. The screen's glow illuminated her white feathers with an unnatural blue light as she pulled up the contact simply labeled "P." Her talon hovered over the call button for one heartbeat, two... then pressed down with a decisive click. The connection tone hummed in her ear, each electronic note stretching her nerves tighter.
One ring. Two. Three.
In her private chambers at Castle Phenexia, the Lady herself stirred beneath sheets of crimson silk, The ringtone-a classical piece composed specially for her centuries ago-pierced the tranquil darkness of her bedroom, making her groan with displeasure.
"♪ Demons these days, hmm yes...♪" she muttered, eyes blinking away sleep as she reached blindly for the device. Lady Phenex's hand finally closed around the phone, bringing it to her ear without bothering to check the caller ID. Only a select few had access to this particular number, and none would rather use it that often.
"♪ Elector-Marquise listening ♪." She mumbled into the receiver, pushing herself upright against a mountain of pillows. Her long, flame-colored feathers were slightly disheveled from sleep, falling in disarray around shoulders left bare by her nightgown.
"My Lady," Olivia's voice came through, poised as always, though Phenex detected an unusual tension beneath the customary formality. "I apologize for the hour, but there's been a development that couldn't wait until morning."
Phenex's talons drummed against the silk sheets, her initial annoyance giving way to diligent and business like professional.
"♪ Go on, darling. ♪" She instructed, already reaching to ignite the bedside lamp with a casual flick of her wrist. Flames sprang to life, casting the opulent chamber in a warm, golden glow. "♪ I'm assume it's about Octavia. How is she doing? ♪"
"Not great, my lady. Lady Octavia has left the castle In full combat armor, in the middle of the night."
"♪ Tsk, rebellious young women do love their midnight adventures, it seems. ♪" Phenex remarked dryly, though her mind was already analyzing the implications. "♪ Did she went alone? ♪"
"She was collected by President Amy. Also in combat attire." The slight hesitation before Olivia's response was telling.
The temperature in the room rose several degrees as Phenex's surprise manifested physically, the flames in the lamp flaring higher for a brief moment before she regained control. She sat fully upright, sleep forgotten entirely.
"♪ And You're certain it's Amy herself? ♪" Phenex confirmed, her voice now razor-sharp with focus. "♪ Not Marchosias? Not anyone else? Spirit forbid, Gaap? ♪"
"Yes, My Lady. I witnessed it myself. They departed in Amy's personnal vehicle, heading toward Limbo City proper."
Phenex swung her legs over the side of the bed, standing in a fluid motion as her mind raced through possibilities, each more troubling than the last. With Zepar, she have had hoped that Gaap was the only nuisance left to deal with it...now she will have to admit that she should have took into consideration that Amy was not known for personal interventions-the President preferred to work through intermediaries, keeping her hands clean and her involvement deniable. For her to personally collect Stolas's daughter...
...
Ah, Kimaris, you dead bastard.
"♪ Has there been any indication of what they might be planning? ♪" Phenex demanded, stalking across her chambers. "♪ Any conversations you've overheard, any unusual correspondence? ♪"
"Nothing specific, My Lady," Olivia replied. "Lady Octavia has been more withdrawn lately, but I attributed that to the ongoing thing with her. She and Amy were friendly but Octavia mentioned nothing about working with the President to me."
Phenex sighed to this
Plan B it is then.
"♪ Contact your father immediately. ♪" Phenex instructed, her tone leaving no room for debate. "♪ Tell Focalor that Octavia has been captured. Do not mention me at all. ♪"
"Captured?" Olivia's voice rose in pitch. "My Lady, we don't know that. She left willingly with President Amy-"
"♪ Don't be naive, darling. ♪" Phenex cut her off, the flames around her feathers flickering with irritation, not in the mood to argue. "♪ Amy doesn't make personal house calls for friendly outings. I know her type all too well. Octavia is being manipulated, if not outright abducted already. ♪"
"So she is trully..." Olivia fell silent for a moment, her breathing audible through the connection. "My Lady, I-I'm worried. I can't handle this anymore. Lying to Octavia day after day, pretending to be something I'm not. She trusts me, confides in me, and I..." Her voice trailed off in the end, words weren't needed. Phenex rolled her eyes, though Olivia couldn't see the gesture.
"♪ Have you forgotten why you're there in the first place? Need I remind you that Zepar nearly succeeded in assassinating your father? Your desire for retribution was quite clear when you accepted this assignment. ♪"
"I haven't forgotten..." Olivia whispered.
"♪ Then remember your task, sweetheart. ♪" Phenex continued, her voice softening slightly. "♪ Look, I'm not asking you to harm anyone here. I'm asking you to stay vigilant in case Gaap strikes at Octavia. That's all. Our 'friendly' Exorcist will handle eliminating Gaap when the time comes. ♪"
"But our friend failed on the train. It's been disaster after disaster. What if-" Olivia replied, a note of panic entering her voice.
"♪ Patience, Olivia. Patience. ♪" Phenex interrupted, her tone stern but not unkind. "♪ I've already managed to close one hole in our problems. These things take time. Rash actions lead to failure. Be mindful. Watch Gaap's movements closely. Until then, you must do what we agreed upon. And then, as the fairy tales say, you'll have your happy ending and be free from me. ♪"
"I...I understand." Olivia began, her voice suddenly less certain. "I will call if I will have some news."
"♪ Excellent. ♪" Phenex smiled, though no one was present to witness it. "♪ Then return to your duties. And Olivia? Do try to remember why I selected you for this position. It wasn't just for your pretty feathers or perfect pedigree. Your father needs me as much I need him. So please, stay calm and be a nice little Goetia for me. ♪"
"Yes, My Lady."
"♪ Good night, then. ♪" Phenex ended the call without waiting for a response, setting the phone down with deliberate care. For a moment, she remained motionless, the gears of her mind turning as she considered this. Amy and Octavia, sneaking away in the dark of night? The President Amy had always been calm and secluded, but this... this suggested something more calculated than mere political maneuvering.
Seems the Ancient Ars Notoria reveals itself every now and then...
For now, she will keep it silent in order to avoid panic, especially from Stolas. All that is left is for the agreement with Heaven to come into fruition and there, it's done. Although shame her mutual friend could not deal with Gaap early, she is confident it will sooner or later be done.
Patience was Phenex's main virtue in her time in Heaven.
Back in her chambers at Marchosias Castle, Olivia lowered the phone with trembling hands. The conversation had gone exactly as she'd feared.
The hellphone slipped from Olivia's grasp, landing softly on her bed as she pressed her palms against her eyes, willing herself not to break down completely. She had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that Phenex might understand the precariousness of her position, might offer a free leave to continued betrayal. Instead, she'd received only a reminder of her place and the thinly veiled promise of consequences should she falter.
Her gaze drifted to the window, where moments ago she had watched Octavia disappear into the night. What dangers awaited the young Marquise? What schemes was she now entangled in? And more importantly-would Olivia's spying on Phenex’s behalf harm Octavia directly?
A sickening realization settled in her stomach like lead. She had reached a crossroads of her own. No matter which path she choose now, someone would be betrayed.
The only question was who .
"My, my... quite the ethical dilemma you've found yourself in, haven't you?"
The voice-smooth as silk and cold as ice-sent a jolt of pure terror down Olivia's spine. She whirled around, her feathers bristling in alarm as her eyes desperately searched for the source. There, lounging against the far wall as if he owned the place, stood Prince Gaap.
The owl demon's breath caught in her throat. Where Octavia was all elegant restraint and quiet dignity, Gaap was ostentatious display of arrogance and charisma. Most disturbing of all was his smile-confident, knowing, and utterly devoid of genuine warmth. In a way, Gaap represented Ars Goetia in it's true form: stagnation.
"Your Highness..." Olivia managed, instinctively dropping into a formal curtsy while her mind raced. How had he entered her chambers without her notice? How long had he been watching? How much had he heard? "This is Lady Octavia's private wing. You're trespassing."
"Oh, do shut your lesbian beak, hen." Gaap's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp for a proper Goetia demon. He pushed himself away from the wall with languid grace. "I heard everything. Your touching call with Phenex, your little crisis of conscience... all of it."
Olivia swallowed very hard in fear as Gaap circled her slowly, like a predator assessing wounded prey.
"I must congratulate you, though. You were quite literally the last person on my list of potential assassins on my back." He chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. "The devoted lady-in-waiting, so hopelessly enamored with her mistress that she can barely function... who would suspect you of plotting my demise...with an Exorcist nonetheless?"
Olivia's initial shock quickly hardened into something more defiant. She straightened her posture as she squared her shoulders. "You don't have any proof that I'm plotting anything."
"Proof?" Gaap chuckled again, the sound like glass breaking underfoot. "My dear Olivia, I don't need proof." He waved a dismissive hand through the air. "I don't plan to do anything with this information... at least, not in the way you fear."
His demeanor shifted subtly-shoulders relaxing, expression softening into something that might have passed for understanding if not for the calculating mind that remained in his eyes. It was a masterful performance, one that likely fooled most who encountered him...Octavia, included.
"In a way, I understand your reasons." He continued, his voice mellowing to a silken purr. "Ars Goetia is a cesspool of cutthroat politics. Even a Goetian peasant might dig up something to undermine their landlord these days."
Gaap moved to the window, gazing out at the hellscape beyond with what appeared to be genuine contemplation.
"But you see, I take Ars Belial's legacy very seriously. In full honor, one might say." He turned back to face her, his expression solemn. "Our founder knew how to rule us: be loved as he was feared by Ars Goetia. An it worked for most part. A strong, united Ars Goetia would be a force that even the Seven Deadly Sins would fear. That unity is what I strive for."
Despite herself, Olivia found his conviction almost compelling-until she reminded herself of what she knew about his true nature, the blood on his family's hands, the very reason she had aligned herself with Phenex in the first place.
"For that vision. I'm willing to forgive your... indiscretions." Gaap continued, stopping directly before her. "If you demonstrate proper humility." His voice then dropped lower, the facade of magnanimity slipping just enough to reveal the steel beneath. His meaning became clear as his gaze deliberately dropped to the floor between them. "Get on your knees, servant. Show me you understand your place in the greater hierarchy bestowed by Mighty Ars Belial himself in ancient times."
Olivia left out small quiet grumble from this but remained...defiant. Since she was Octavia's servant, she technically doesn't answer to Gaap's commands. But Ars Goetia is very inconsistent with that. He after all, outranked her by a mile.
Gaap's expression darkened as the seconds ticked by her objection. Then much to Olivia's horror, he reached into his ornate coat and withdrew an elegant flintlock pistol-an antique by modern standards of Hell, but no less deadly thanks to Duke Barbatos.
"Perhaps you need motivation then." He said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leveled the weapon at her chest. "Your choices have become remarkably simple, my dear. Bow and acknowledge who is the Prince in this room and who is merely a lady-in-waiting..." He cocked the hammer with a deliberate click. "Or I execute you here and now for conspiracy, collaboration with great enemy and attempted assassination on me."
Olivia's breath came in short, shallow gasps as she stared at the weapon. Her heart hammered against her ribs with such force she was certain he could hear it. Slowly, she turned her head away from the barrel, unable to look death so directly in the face.
"My father will kill you for this!" Olivia tried to reason.
"I like those odds, Olivia. But I'm waiting you to act." Gaap prompted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "And I assure you, this is same one Duke Barbatos gave me and Octavia." He tilted the weapon slightly, allowing her to see the faint red glow emanating from within the barrel. "Goetian magic, my dear."
More and more Olivia lost any will and...not wanting to die, she gave in. With trembling limbs and head bowed in defeat, she slowly lowered herself to her knees. The posture of subjugation burned through her with humiliation, every fiber of her being rebelling against the act even as she performed it, her elegant form smaller and more fragile than ever before as she knelt on the cold stone floor.
Gaap's eyes narrowed, the flintlock remaining steady in his grip.
"Not enough!" He hissed, beak curling with disdain. "Say it!"
The pressure of Gaap's gaze bore down on her as heavily as the barrel of his weapon. Olivia trembled on her knees, seeming to shrink as humiliation burned through her.
"Your Highness..." She whispered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. Each syllable felt like a betrayal-not just to herself, but to Octavia, to her father, to every principle she had once held dear. "I acknowledge you as Prince of Ars Goetia. I'm merely an servant to Ars Goetia."
A cruel smile stretched across Gaap's beak as he lowered the flintlock pistol slightly, though not enough to suggest she was out of danger.
"Much better." He purred, circling her kneeling form like a predator savoring the moment before the kill. "But I'm afraid your education is incomplete, my dear Olivia." He stopped directly before her, his shadow falling across her face. "Tell me what you truly are. A lady-in-waiting? A spy? No. You're nothing but a tool-a means to an end. Say it."
Olivia's breath caught in her throat. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
"I'm... a tool."
"Louder!" Gaap commanded.
"I'm a tool!" She said, the words scraping against her throat.
"Good...." Gaap's expression darkened with a twisted pleasure that made her stomach turn. He then leaned down, his beak inches from her ear as he whispered the degrading phrase he wanted her to say. "And what else you're forgetting, hmm? What are females of your station truly meant for in our society?
Olivia felt something break inside her as the tears she'd been fighting finally spilled onto her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with the effort to contain her sobs as she forced out the humiliating words he demanded.
"I'm... I'm just..." she stammered, her voice cracking. Olivia's shoulders slumped completely, her spirit momentarily crushed beneath the weight of her own utterance. "A cum bucket... a whore, meant to be a tool of marriage."
"There we are...the truth at last!" Gaap's laughter, cold and hollow, filled the room as he straightened himself. He flipped the pistol in his hand with practiced ease, the weapon spinning before landing firmly in his grip, barrel on his palm. "Now that we understand each other-"
The movement was so swift that Olivia barely registered it happening. The heavy buttstock of the flintlock connected with her cheek with a sickening crack. Pain exploded on her face as she collapsed fully to the floor, vision swimming with bursts of light.
"Let that serve as a reminder, you fucking whore!" Gaap said, his voice now businesslike and devoid of the earlier mockery. He tucked the pistol back into his coat as he looked down at her crumpled form. "If you attempt to move against me again, your father won't have time to save you. By the time Focalor discovers what's happened, his precious daughter will be nothing but a cooling corpse on this very floor. Are clear?"
"Y-yes..."
"ARE WE CLEAR?!"
"Yes, my lord!" Olivia's hand trembled as she touched her cheek, feeling the warm wetness of blood matting her white feathers. The room seemed to spin around her, Gaap's form blurring at the edges of her vision.
"Good..." Gaap then sighed at the sight, finding it pathetic. "Now that away, I will do my part as to not send you to the gallows for your treason. I of course can do that but I'm slightly in the good mood now. So please, stop your pathetic whimpering, woman! Get up and show some dignity, if you possess any... and do clean yourself up once we're done. Blood is so difficult to remove from these stone floors."
With agonizing effort, Olivia pushed herself up from the floor. Her limbs felt like lead, the throbbing pain in her head making it difficult to focus. Still, she forced herself to stand, swaying slightly but refusing to fall again.
"Better..." Gaap said, inspecting her with cold disdain. "Now, you have a choice before you. Continue serving Phenex if you must-I care little for her schemes. But understand that I will be watching your every move. Cross me again, and there will be no second chance." He paused, his expression shifting subtly as he regarded her trembling form. "However, despite our... differences, I won't pretend we face a common enemy."
Olivia blinked through the pain, confusion momentarily replacing fear in her eyes. Blood trickled down left side of her face, staining her dress.
"Amy remains our primary threat..." Gaap continued, his voice lowering to a confidential tone. "That's why, against my better judgment, I'm offering you my assistance in retrieving Octavia from her clutches."
"And why would you care what happens to Octavia?" Olivia's head jerked up, suspicion flaring in her gaze despite the throbbing pain.
"You will address me as 'My Prince' when speaking to me, Lady Olivia!" Gaap hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously, the momentary partnership clearly not extending to equal partnership.
"Why would you care what happens to Octavia... My Prince?" Swallowing her pride, Olivia corrected herself. It felt like a poison on her tongue.
Gaap seemed satisfied with the compliance, if not the tone. He straightened himself once more.
"I recognized Amy as a traitor the moment I laid eyes upon her." He explained, pacing the room with measured steps. "Her ambitions extend far beyond mere politics. If Octavia left with her, I can assure you with absolute certainty that she's now in a hostage situation, whether she realizes it or not." He stopped before the window where Olivia had earlier watched Octavia disappear into the night. "Amy's agenda threatens all of Ars Goetia. Even Phenex, in her infinite wisdom," He added with a mocking lilt. "You cannot deny this truth."
Turning back to face Olivia, his expression hardened. "That is why I intend to follow Phenex's own advice on you-to inform Focalor about this development. Alone, neither you nor I can act effectively against Amy. Together...we can do it." He left the implication hanging in the air between them.
"I know your games, my prince." Olivia pressed the back of her hand against her bleeding cheek, trying to clear her thoughts. "You're hardly innocent in all this. You've been manipulating Octavia from the moment you arrived at the castle!"
"Manipulating? Is that what you think?" Gaap chuckled, the sound sharp and humorless in the dim room. He then shook his head. "Octavia benefits from our alliance as much as I do. A mutually advantageous arrangement, unlike your... relationship with her." His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. "You, my dear, have manipulated and lied to Octavia from the very start. Playing the devoted friend or lover while reporting her every move to Phenex for her own goals."
"Your father tried to kill my family, you son of bitch!" Olivia suddenly exclaimed, her composure cracking as years of pent-up rage rushed to the surface.
In a flash, Gaap's hand shot out, gripping her arm with bruising force. The movement was so swift that Olivia barely had time to flinch.
"I don't care what my father did, you bitch!" Gaap hissed, his face inches from hers. "That fat fuck never was present in my life, always fucking with other woman! And his personnal ambitions are not mine to bear. I would rather see his beheaded head rolling in my sight. AND YOU! It was your stupid mind that decided to seek revenge on me instead of him." His grip tightened painfully. "Your choices brought you here. No one else's."
"LIER! You'll betray her in the end! We both know it! Octavia is just another tool for you to use!" Olivia winced but refused to cower.
"I'm neither the first nor the last who will betray her..." A slow, unsettling grin spread across Gaap's beak as he said softly that, releasing her arm. "Am I?"
Olivia felt her chest tighten, the truth of his accusation striking harder than any physical blow.
"When we rescue her, you should tell her everything. From the start. " Gaap continued, his voice suddenly businesslike, "That will be my parting demand as for you and I to leave with no hard feelings. Maybe at least then there might be a chance to salvage whatever relationship you two have. Though I wouldn't hold my breath."
Anger flashed through Olivia's eyes. She opened her beak, ready to unleash a tirade about how truly despicable he was with his false concern for Octavia couldn't mask the monster beneath...when something outside the window caught her attention.
Her words died in her throat.
There, perched on a thick branch of the ancient tree that grew alongside the castle wall, stood a figure silhouetted against Hell's sky. Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the distinctive angular helmet and ornate pauldrons of samurai-inspired armor and an Exorcist's uniform underneath it. Adam's finest had a bow drawn taut, arrow nocked and aimed directly at the window.
Directly at them.
Time seemed to slow. Olivia couldn't tell if she was the target or if the arrow was meant for Gaap. All she knew was the cold, paralyzing terror that flooded her veins. Worse because it wasn't even the Cowboy one she knew so...she cannot say whenever it's friendly or hostile Exorcist to her.
"SWEET SPIRIT!" The scream tore from her throat, primal and desperate in fear.
Gaap whirled around with speed, his eyes widening as he registered the threat. The bowstring released. The arrow cut through the glass with a crystalline shatter, its trajectory precise onto Gaap. The prince managed to threw himself sideways in time, talons scraping against stone as he dropped into a defensive crouch. But Olivia wasn't fast enough.
The arrow meant for Gaap found her instead, piercing her shoulder with a sickening thud. The impact knocked her backward, her body crumpling to the floor as white as hot agony exploded through her chest. Blood was brighter and more abundant than from her cheek wound blossomed across her white feathers. The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a burning, tearing sensation that sent violent tremors through her entire body. She tried to scream, but all that emerged was a strangled gasp as her lungs struggled to draw air.
Through the haze of pain, she was vaguely aware of what Gaap was doing. He swiftly dove away from the window, retrieving his flintlock pistol. Without hesitation, the armored Exorcist launched from the branch, diving through the shattered window. Glass fragments scattered across the floor as the Exorcist landed in a poised crouch, katana already drawn and angled toward Gaap.
"Since when do these fucks adopted Anime!?" Gaap raised his flintlock, scared as heaven. He tried to fire it...
*Click*
And it was empty.
"Oh, you got to-FUCK!" Gaap screamed, can't believe it happened to him right now.
Nothing came from the Exorcist as he raised his katana to deliver a lethal strike at Gaap. But before he could strike, the chamber door burst open with a splintering crash. Loona and Hati stormed into the room. The hellhound's eyes quickly took in the scene.
"What the fuck?!" Loona snarled, her claws extending reflexively.
The Exorcist quickly aimed his katana at Loona, with Gaap using the moment it hide himself behind the drawer. Wasting no time to save only Olivia, Loona lunged forward with preternatural speed, jaws open and aimed for the Exorcist's throat. But the armored attacker had centuries of experience fighting Hell's denizens. With a fluid pivot, the Exorcist sidestepped Loona's attack, grabbed her tail mid-lunge, and used her own momentum to slam her violently against the stone floor.
The impact drove the air from Loona's lungs. Before she could recover, the Exorcist had reversed the katana, its tip hovering mere inches from the hellhound's forehead, ready to be plunged.
"Loona!" Hati roared, drawing his pistol in one swift motion. The weapon barked three times in rapid succession, each shot aimed with deadly precision.
With movements that seemed to defy physical laws, the Exorcist's katana became a blur of motion, deflecting each bullet with metallic pings that echoed through the chamber. The deflected rounds embedded themselves in the ceiling and walls. Realizing the futility of ranged combat and with Loona being in danger, Hati charged forward with a feral growl, abandoning caution for pure, desperate aggression. His massive frame barreled toward the Exorcist, claws extended and fangs bared.
Hati at least managed to push the Exorcist away from Loona, but in turn...put himself in harm’s way. The Exorcist waited until the last possible moment before acting. He punched Hati right into his nose and pivoted as the Hellhound let him go, holding his nose in pain. The katana flashed once and Hati howled as his right hand was severed at the wrist, the appendage falling to the floor with a sickening thud. Before the wolf demon could register the loss, the Exorcist completed the motion, driving the katana forward with terrifying pierce. The blade punched through Hati's abdomen, emerging slick and crimson from his back.
"Hati!" Loona screamed, trying to get herself on her feet to help him out.
Hati's eyes widened in shock and pain, his remaining hand clutching reflexively at the blade that impaled him. A strangled sound escaped his throat as the Exorcist twisted the weapon, ensuring maximum damage to the demon's internal organs.
But where most demons would have collapsed, Hellhounds endured the pain. As blood poured from his mouth in dark rivulets, staining his fangs crimson as he bared them in a final, defiant snarl at Exorcist.
"You think... this is enough to put a dog down, huh?" Hatti growled, his voice a wet, ragged sound. With his remaining hand, he lunged forward and seized the Exorcist by the shoulder, his claws piercing deep into the armor plating. The unexpected move caught the armored assailant off guard, momentarily immobilizing them both.
His muscles tensed as he summoned his remaining strength, channeling everything he had left into one final act to save Loona and Olivia. The Exorcist struggled to free the blade, twisting it viciously, but Hati only tightened his grip, a grim smile spreading across his blood-soaked muzzle.
"GO FUCK YOURSELF!" Hati spat, blood spraying from his mouth with each word. With roar, he threw his entire weight forward, dragging the Exorcist with him. Together they crashed through the balcony doors, splintering wood and shattering glass as they tumbled over the stone railing.
"NO!" Loona tried to catch him, but no avail.
Then gravity did its thing, and they plummeted bellow, right into the courtyard. The impact resounded through the courtyard like a thunderclap, sending a cloud of dust and debris billowing outward. Maybe it was Hati's intention, to alert everyone. And it worked as the garrison stationed throughout Marchosias Castle burst into frenzied motion. Doors slammed open as Aldecaldos Nomads poured from their barracks with weapons drawn, ears pricked forward to catch any sound of further threat.
Though the fall would have shattered mortal bones, the armored Exorcist rolled smoothly to one knee, seemingly unfazed by the impact. With a vicious twist and pull, the Exorcist wrenched the katana free from Hati's abdomen, the blade emerging with a wet, sickening sound that made even the hardened hellhounds flinch. The Exorcist then flicked the blade, splattering Hati's blood across the cobblestones in an arc of glistening droplets.
"HATI!" Loona's anguished howl cut through the night from the shattered balcony above, raw grief transforming into rage as she vaulted over the railing, plummeting toward the courtyard with reckless abandon. Her claws extended mid-fall, her fangs bared in a snarl of pure, primal fury. Dakota, near Loona, quickly stop her as it was too dangerous. Second reckless attack is enough for today.
The Exorcist pivoted, katana raised defensively as the first wave of Aldecaldos Nomads converged from all directions. Their movements were coordinated, flanking maneuvers executed with the seamless efficiency that came from decades of fighting as a pack. Some carried modern firearms, others traditional blades.
The Exorcist's helmeted head swiveled, taking in the rapidly deteriorating tactical situation. With each passing second, more hellhounds poured into the courtyard, their numbers swelling from dozens to scores. Through the confusion, Cyrus shouldered his way forward, His eyes arrowed as they fixed on the Exorcist with cold, calculated hatred.
"Heaven sends its butchers once more." He growled, his voice a rumble like distant thunder, each word dripped with hatred on anything Heaven related.
The Exorcist remained silent, katana held at the ready. The armored figure's posture shifted subtly, knees flexing slightly, preparing to strike. Cyrus took another step forward. His gaze flicked momentarily to Hati's broken form, something flickering a flash of grief quickly subsumed by cold rage.
The Exorcist's helmet tilted slightly, the expressionless faceplate surveyed the situation. The hellhounds tightened their circle, weapons trained on the intruder, awaiting their Cyrus' command to tear the heavenly assassin apart. But In that fraught moment, the Exorcist's hand moved to a pouch at its belt.
"DOWN!" Cyrus roared, recognizing the gesture for what it was.
But the warning came too late. The Exorcist hurled a small spherical object to the ground. It detonated on impact, unleashing a nova of blinding white light that seared through the courtyard like liquid fire. The flash was accompanied by a concussive burst that sent hellhounds staggering backward, their paws instinctively shielding sensitive eyes.
The light was particularly devastating to hellborn creatures. Agonized howls filled the air as the Aldecaldos clutched at their faces, temporarily blinded by the celestial intensity. Even Cyrus, with all his power and experience, couldn't fully shield himself in time. He dropped to one knee, one massive paw covering his eyes as he snarled in pain and frustration.
Loona was also caught the full brunt of the flash. She collapsed to the ground beside Hati's body, her anguished howl truncated as she curled into herself, paws pressing desperately against her eyes. Only a handful of hellhounds, those who had been looking away or had reacted to Cyrus's warning, retained even partial vision but their effectiveness was severely compromised, reduced to vague shapes and blurry motion.
Through squinted, watering eyes, Cyrus caught a glimpse of the Exorcist scaling the castle wall with inhuman agility.
"SHOOT IT DOWN!" Cyrus bellowed, his voice above the chorus of pained snarls and disoriented confusion.
A few scattered gunshots rang out, bullets chipping stone around the climbing figure but finding no mark on the Exorcist's armor. The shots were wild, uncoordinated as the shooters still struggling to see clearly through the aftereffects of the celestial flash.
Within seconds, the Exorcist had reached the castle's upper ramparts. The armored figure paused briefly at the top, helmet turning to look down at the chaos below. Then the heavenly assassin vaulted over the battlements and disappeared from sight.
Gone. As suddenly as it had appeared.
Fucking Heaven
Cyrus staggered to his feet, blinking rapidly as his vision gradually returned in patches. Around him, his pack was recovering at different rates. Luckily none was hurt by blind fire as Cyrus was worried that his reckless command would have hurt more of his than the real target.
"Secure the castle!" he ordered, his voice hoarse with restrained fury. "I want every inch searched, every shadow probed!" He pointed to a group of hellhounds who seemed to have recovered most of their vision. "You four, wake the fuck up Lord Marchosias Now!"
As the pack scattered to carry out his orders, Cyrus turned his attention to where Loona knelt beside Hati's body. She had regained enough vision to see the extent of her friend's injuries, and the sight had struck her mute with grief.
"Dakota!" Cyrus barked, his gruff voice cutting through the chaos. "Get your ass over here now!"
The Aldecaldos' medic already moved with urgency, dropping to her knees opposite Loona beside Hati's broken form in order to provide emergency first aid. Cyrus approached slowly, taking in the full extent of Hati's injuries. The massive wound in the hellhound's abdomen still leaked dark blood onto the cobblestones, pooling beneath him in an expanding circle. With his severed hand and with no prosthetics or proper surgery to stop the bleeding...this was the end of him.
"You're going to be okay, brother," With a grace that belied his imposing size, Cyrus knelt beside Hati, one massive paw gently supporting the fallen warrior's head. "Dakota's here now."
Hati's eyes fluttered open, glazed with pain but still alert. A wet, rattling cough shook his frame, flecks of blood splattering across his muzzle.
"You and I... both know better... white wolf." Hati managed. "End of the road... for me."
Dakota worked feverishly, paws moving as she applied pressure bandages to the abdominal wound. But her worried look told the truth her busy paws denied. The damage was too extensive, the blood loss too severe. No medicine in Hell could reverse what the Exorcist's blade done by piercing his inner organs.
"I'm sorry," Loona whispered, her voice breaking as she reached for Hati's remaining paw. "I should have been faster, I should have-"
"No regrets... sister." Hati silenced her with a gentle squeeze of her hand, a smile of fierce pride somehow finding its way through his pain. "Died doing... what Nomads do... protecting our own."
With trembling fingers, he reached for the dogtags that hung around his neck. The chain rattled softly as he worked it over his head, the effort clearly costing him what little strength remained. He pressed the tags into Loona's paw and curling her fingers around them.
"Take care of... your pops... and my brothers and sisters here..." Another wet cough racked his body.
Loona clutched the tags tightly. Tears flowed freely now, dripping onto their joined hands. Cyrus remained silent, only the slight tightening of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze revealed the storm of grief and rage building within.
Hati's breathing grew more labored, each intake a struggle that seemed to cost him more than the last. With one final, shuddering breath, Hati's chest stilled....and he was gone from this afterlife...
For a long moment, no one moved. The only sound was Loona's quiet, hitching breaths as she bowed her head over their still-joined hands. Dakota finally broke the silence, gently closing Hati's unseeing eyes.
"May the Wild Hunt welcome you now, brother," She murmured an traditional Hellhound blessing for their fallen.
"I'll kill it!" Loona whispered, a promise meant only for Hati's unhearing ears. "I swear by fucking everything here, I'll find that Exorcist, and I'll tear its fucking wings out!"
"No. You won't." Cyrus rose to his full height, his shadow falling across Hati's still form. With a swift motion, he shrugged off his leather cut and draped it over Hati's body.
Loona's head snapped up, disbelief etching across her features before quickly morphing into rage.
"What the fuck did you just say?" She snarled, grief making her reckless.
"You heard me. You will not hunt that Exorcist." Cyrus didn't flinch at her outburst.
Something in Loona snapped. The typical detachment she'd cultivated over years of working in I.M.P, crumbled beneath the weight of her grief and fury.
"One of yours is DEAD!" She screamed, gesturing wildly at Hati's covered body. "Your brother in arms, murdered right in front of us, and you're just going to let it fucking slide? What kind of leader are you?!"
Her voice cracked on the last word, raw emotion bleeding through the anger. In a movement almost too swift to follow, Cyrus closed the distance between them. His massive paw shot out, fingers curling around Loona's shoulders, not squeezing, just holding. His face lowered to hers, close enough that she could feel his hot breath against her fur.
"Because I don't seek revenge only to satiate my bloodlust, Loona! That is exactly what nearly destroyed our kind by the Seven Deadly Sins in first the place!" He hissed, his voice pitched low so only she could hear. He then released her but maintained his imposing presence, forcing her to look up to meet his gaze. "You saw what it was, Loona. An Exterminator. Not some lower demon we can hunt down in the alleys of Pentagram City. Not an overlord whose territory we can invade with enough firepower. These things are Heaven's elites. I will not risk the entire clan going to war with them. It would be suicide and it's exactly what they want."
"So what then?!" Loona demanded, her voice quieter but no less intense. "We just accept this? Let them come to us, kill us, and walk away?!"
"Didn't say we'd do nothing. But right now...there is nothing we can do." Cyrus's expression hardened as he turned to address the entire gathered pack. "What happened tonight was a tragedy. We will not forget, and we will not forgive." He returned his attention to Loona, his voice dropping once more. "But as leader of this clan, I alone bear the consequences of his death."
Without another word, Cyrus unsheathed a hunting knife from his belt. Then he rolled up the sleeve of his right arm, revealing a forearm covered in a grid of small, precise scars. Each one a perfectly straight line about an inch long. It was around forty scars, arranged in neat rows of five. He placed the knife's edge against his skin, just below the last row. Without hesitation or any sign of pain, he drew the blade across his flesh, opening a fresh wound that welled with dark blood.
"Forty one brother of ours!" He said quietly as his blood fell to the cobblestones near Hati's body. "Every scar on this arm is a member lost under my leadership. We remember. We honor. And when the time is right, when victory is assured and not just vengeance...then we act." Cyrus then turned towards Loona's gaze, not judgmental but rather wishing she will understand his point of view. "And what about you, Loona? Are you ready to sacrifice entire family you held close in your heart to avenge just one... or are you just looking for a quick kill to ease your pain, not realizing you will hurt more in the process?"
Around them, the entire pack had fallen silent, watching, waiting to see how Blitzo's daughter would respond to that. But back in Octavia's chambers, the aftermath was gruesome. The room bore all the hallmarks of the violent struggle. Shattered glass from the window littered the floor, furniture lay overturned, and a spray of blood painted across the stone walls.
Olivia herself remained sprawled where she had fallen, the arrow still stuck from her shoulder. Each breath sent waves of agony through her chest. She had managed to drag herself to a half-sitting position against the wall, leaving a smear of blood in her wake. Blood matted her white feathers...Iria would have personally thrown Olivia into the washing machine if she saw her like that.
Gaap emerged cautiously from behind the heavy dresser where he had taken cover during Hati's suicide attempt. Unlike Olivia, there was no...damage on him. He surveyed the room with narrowed eyes, the flintlock pistol still clutched tightly in his grip.
He then glanced toward Olivia with aristocratic disdain. Her eyes locked with his, silently pleading for him to remove the arrow that burned like hellfire in her shoulder.
"Please..." she whispered, the word barely audible through her clenched teeth.
Gaap merely pulled back his flintlock into his coat and crossed his arms over his chest, making no move to help her. He looked relaxed, almost casual, as if he were observing an interesting but ultimately inconsequential thing rather than a wounded ally.
"Are you... going to help... or just... stand?" Olivia's eyes narrowed with feel pain and indignation, each word felt more difficult to pronounce.
"I'm afraid field medicine isn't among my many talents." He replied with an elegant shrug. "Besides, removing it improperly could cause far more damage than leaving it in place. Pain is good for you, though. Helps build character, you know."
An simple grunt from Olivia was enough for her to show how much she disdains him. Luckily, the door to the chamber burst open with such force that it slammed against the stone wall.
Marchosias stood in the doorway, chest heavy from his sprint up the tower stairs. The young hellhound lord was dressed in what appeared to be hastily donned formal attire, suggesting he'd been sleeping when news of the attack reached him. His face was twisted with concern that quickly changed to horror as he took in the scene before him, eyes widening as they landed on Olivia's crumpled form.
"What in the Wild Hunt's name happened here?" Without waiting for an answer, Marchosias crossed the room, dropping to one knee beside Olivia. His hands hovered over her wound, uncertain at first but eager to help.
"An Exorcist, Marquis," Gaap offered from where he stood, examining his nails with boredom. "Quite rudely interrupted our conversation with an arrow meant for me." He gestured vaguely toward the shattered window. "Fortunately for me, our dear Olivia here took an arrow for me...how virtuous."
"And you've just been standing there watching her suffer?" Marchosias shot him a disgusted look. For the most time Gaap spent here, Marchosias remained cordial to Gaap's arrogance, but this crosses every line for him.
"As I was explaining to our feathered friend before you so dramatically arrived. I don't do medicine. Not my area of expertise." Gaap replied smoothly, not caring.
Marchosias snarled under his breath but turned his attention back to Olivia.
"This is going to hurt. But it needs to come out. The longer it stays, the more pain it will do." He warned her as he carefully examined the arrow shaft. Luckily, he can at least do something to ease the pain.
"Do it..." Olivia nodded weakly, bracing herself against the wall for the worst pain imaginable.
Marchosias positioned one hand firmly on her shoulder to stabilize it, gripping the arrow shaft with his other hand. In a swift motion, he broke the arrow's fletching and yanked the arrow free from her shoulder. Olivia's scream echoed through the chamber, her back arching in agony as fresh blood welled from the wound.
"Sorry for that, Olivia. It's easier when you're not tensed up waiting for a countdown from me." Marchosias muttered, already tearing strips from his own silk shirt to create makeshift bandages. Working quickly but carefully, he pressed the clean fabric against both entry and exit wounds, applying firm pressure to stem the bleeding.
"First Moxxie and now me...who taught you in field medicine, Lord Marchosias?" Olivia asked through gritted teeth, trying to focus on anything other than the pain.
"When you live in the city where anarchy lives just outside our walls, you learn certain skills or you don't survive long here." He secured the bandage with a neat knot. "That should hold until we can get you proper treatment."
"Touching as this little medical drama is," Gaap interjected, examining the extracted arrow, avoiding touching the tip due to Olivia's blood on it. "We have far more pressing concerns. This attack on me was not random occurrence."
"Explain then." Marchosias rose to his feet, helping Olivia to a nearby chair.
"It's fucking Amy. Has been from the start." Gaap declared, tossing the broken arrow onto a nearby table with contempt. He then gestured emphatically at the shattered window. "An Exorcist entered Hell freely, without a single warning from the President of this city. You know what that means, don't you? She allowed this to happen. On purpose."
"I know Amy better than anyone. She would never do that." Marchosias's brow furrowed deeply, not liking these accuses.
"Oh, I'm sure you know her intimately, pup." Gaap let out a harsh, mocking laugh. His voice then dripped with venom as he stalked closer to Marchosias, beak curled in a sneer. "But I don't give a flying fuck how many times you've bedded her or what sweet nothings she whispered afterward. This-" he jabbed a finger at the blood-soaked bandages on Olivia's shoulder, "-is the reality of your precious Amy's intentions."
"I noticed you love to spill nonsense whenever you like it, Prince Gaap." Marchosias warned him, getting much hostile to him.
"Nonsense are for Hellhounds like you, pup. The truth is Ars Goetia." Gaap mocked him with a smug grin.
"Watch your tongue, Gaap, or I'll-" Marchosias left out a low growl building in his throat as his claws extended reflexively.
"Or you'll what?" Gaap taunted, unfazed by the hellhound's display. "Run crying to your Daddy Dearest who simps for Queen Beelzebub I? You and I both know this is beyond us. This incident must be addressed to Duke Barbatos and Duke Focalor immediately. Amy is a fucking traitor, and your romantic delusions won't change that fact."
"Stop it! Both of you!" Olivia's voice cut through their standoff, strained but commanding. She pushed herself upright in the chair, grimacing as fresh blood seeped through her bandages. "I hate to admit it, but we need to tell my father right now." She swallowed hard before continuing. "Octavia is in danger and we need you to help us rescue her, Marchosias."
"See?! Even SHE agrees with me!" Gaap used like an big win for him, but Marchosias rolled his eyes.
"And you're sure about this?" Marchosias asked her for more than that. Olivia is only voice of reason here.
"Yes..." Olivia replied grimly. "Trust me, March."
Marchosias's expression darkened as he processed this information. He glanced toward the shattered window, then back to the bloodstained floor. "We're not safe here then. If they sent one Exorcist, they could send more here." He turned to Olivia, his gaze softening slightly. "Can you walk?"
"I'll manage." Olivia nodded grimly, the strength and courage of that Lady-In-Waiting is inspiring.
"I'll help you. Cyrus and the Aldecaldos must have secured the courtyard by now." Marchosias nevertheless decided to help her out, carefully slipping an arm around her waist to support her weight. She leaned against him, wincing as the movement jostled her wounded shoulder.
"By all means, let us leave this little room to somewhere less... ventilated." Gaap gestured dismissively at the shattered window.
They slowly and painfully made their way down the winding tower stairs. Olivia would sometimes hold back gasps of pain when the stairs were too rough. Gaap was a few steps behind, and he kept looking into the shadows, as if he was ready for another attack at any moment. He acted like he was just out for a walk, even though he was trying to avoid being killed.
As soon as they got outside, they could see how bad the chaos was. The hellhounds set up defenses around the castle's walls. A group of Aldecaldos stood around a body in a serious circle. Cyrus quickly saw Marchosias helping the hurt Olivia. He broke away from the circle and walked quickly toward them.
"The castle is compromised, my lord." he reported without preamble, his gruff voice pitched low. "The Exorcist we encountered was likely not working alone."
"I've reached the same conclusion. Wake everyone. Staff, guards, everyone. No exceptions." Marchosias nodded grimly.
"Already underway," Cyrus confirmed. "Where do we relocate?"
"You will escort us to Duke Barbatos and Duke Focalor. We'll be safe there until we can understand the full scope of this threat. I -" It was then that Marchosias's gaze fell upon the covered body in the center of the courtyard. His shoulders sagged visibly. "Who was it, Cyrus?"
"Hati..." Cyrus replied, the single word laden with barely contained emotion. "He engaged the Exorcist directly...took the bastard over the balcony with him. Died protecting the castle. Protected your guests...Loona too."
Marchosias approached the covered body slowly. He knelt beside the fallen hellhound, carefully lifting one corner of the leather cut just enough to glimpse the still face beneath.
"Hunt well with the Wild Hunt, Hati. Until we meet again..." He said softly, his voice thick with genuine remorse as he gently pressed his paw on Hati's forehead. He looked up at Cyrus and then to Loona, who stood nearby. "I know how close you both were to him. This should never have happened in my home."
Loona's fingers tightened around the dogtags she still clutched in her fist.
"No, "It shouldn't have." She agreed, her voice rough with suppressed emotion. A few seconds later, Loona would glanced at him. "What about Skoll and Moxxie? We can't leave them here."
The young hellhound lord's ears flattened slightly at the reminder of his other responsibilities. The attack had thrown everything into chaos, and in the immediate aftermath, focus had been on securing the castle and dealing with the fallen.
"You're right..." Marchosias muttered, running a clawed hand through his fur. He then glanced toward Dakota. "Dakota, I need you to stay here. Look after Skoll and Moxxie until we return. Make sure they're stable enough for transport. Once I've spoken with Duke Focalor, we'll move them to the Governor's Palace. It's better defended, and the Exorcists won't risk an attack so close to the center of power in the city."
"Of course, my lord. I'll make sure they're prepared for transport when the time comes." Dakota gave a curt nod.
"And what about him?" Loona's gaze drifted back to Hati's body. Her voice was much softer now, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. "We can't just leave him here."
"No, we can't." Marchosias followed her gaze, his expression somber. "We'll move him to the castle morgue for now. It's secure, and he'll be treated with respect." He placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "When this is over, the Aldecaldos will give him the burial he deserves. The full honors of clan."
Cyrus nodded in silent agreement, betraying none of the grief that surely roiled beneath his stoic exterior.
"Thanks, March." Loona nodded, appreciating this gesture. "If...there is anything I can do then I-"
"It's fine, Loona." Marchosias cut her off, but not unkindly. "Cyrus and I will handle the security arrangements. There's something else I need from you." He gestured toward Olivia, who was leaning heavily against a stone column, her bandaged shoulder clearly paining her despite her attempts to hide it. "I need you to keep an eye on her. Make sure she's safe here with you."
Loona's eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced between Marchosias and the wounded owl demon. For a moment, it seemed she might argue. Instead she conceded with a short nod.
"Fine, I'll watch over the bird."
"Thank you" Marchosias then turned to address the gathered Aldecaldos. "The rest of you, secure the perimeter. I want eyes on every approach to the castle. Nothing gets in or out without us knowing about it."
The Aldecaldos dispersed nearly immediately. Four of the strongest among them carefully lifted Hati's body, treating their fallen brother with solemn dignity as they carried him away toward the castle's lower levels. Marchosias hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer to Loona.
"Keep her talking, Loona." he said quietly, nodding toward Olivia. "She saw the Exorcist up close. Anything she remembers could be valuable for Duke Focalor. "
With that, he and Cyrus strode away, already deep in conversation about everything that happened. Loona watched them go, then turned her attention to Olivia. The owl demon looked pale, her normally pristine white feathers matted with blood and dirt. She was clearly in pain, though trying valiantly not to show it.
"Come on," Loona said gruffly, offering her arm for support. "Let's get you somewhere you can sit down properly before you fall over."
Olivia accepted the help with a grateful nod, leaning against Loona as they made their way toward a stone bench beneath one of the courtyard's ancient trees. The bench was far enough from the main activity to offer some privacy, yet still within sight of the Aldecaldos standing guard around the perimeter.
Once settled, Loona noticed Olivia's bandaged shoulder. The makeshift dressing Marchosias had applied was already soaked through with blood, but it seemed to be holding for now. Dakota would need to change it soon, but it would do for the moment.
An awkward silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the Aldecaldos moving around the castle and the occasional wince from Olivia as she adjusted her position to ease the pressure on her wound. Finally, Loona could stand it no longer. With all the bluntness that was her hallmark, she fixed Olivia with an intense stare and asked the question that had been burning in her mind since she'd burst into the chamber to find an Exorcist standing over her.
"What the fuck happened up there?" She demanded, her voice low and urgent. "How the hell did an Exorcist get inside the castle? And why was Gaap in your room?"
The directness of the question seemed to catch Olivia off guard. She blinked few times before answering.
"I..." she began, then paused, wincing as a fresh wave of pain washed over her. "We were just talking. Gaap and I. About Octavia. Then I saw something move outside the window. It was just... there. Standing on the branch of that big tree outside Octavia's room. An Exorcist, but not like the ones we usually see during the yearly exterminations. This one had different armor. More... elaborate. Like a samurai from the human world."
"A samurai?" Loona repeated, her brow furrowing. "That's not normal Exterminator gear."
"No," Olivia agreed, shaking her head slightly. "It wasn't. And it had a bow. When I saw it, I screamed. The Exorcist fired, but I..." She gestured to her wounded shoulder. "I ended up taking the arrow."
"So you took an arrow for that smug asshole?" Loona couldn't keep the disbelief from her voice.
"I didn't exactly plan it," Olivia replied with a weak attempt at a smile. "It all happened so fast. One minute... the next..." She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her bandaged shoulder. "The Exorcist came through the window. It had a katana-that's what it used on Hati." Olivia's voice wavered at this, guilt flashing across her eyes. "If you and Hati hadn't arrived when you did, I think both Gaap and I would be dead right now."
Something in Olivia's tone made Loona study her more carefully. There was fear there, certainly-anyone would be terrified after such an encounter. But there was something else too. A tension, a hesitation, as if she were carefully choosing her words.
"You're not telling me everything, birdy..." Loona stated flatly. It wasn't a question.
Olivia's tensed slightly, whether from discomfort at being caught in a partial truth or from the pain of her wound, Could she trust Loona with the full truth? The hellhound was fiercely loyal to her friends, that much was clear from how she had fought to defend them. But she was also impulsive, prone to rash decisions when emotions ran high. And right now, with Hati's blood barely dry on the cobblestones, Loona's emotions were a powder keg waiting for a spark.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and growing suspicion. Olivia could feel Loona's patience wearing thin, her amber eyes boring into her with unwavering intensity.
"Can I trust you, Loona?" Olivia finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Really trust you?"
The hellhound's expression shifted subtly, surprise briefly replacing the suspicion in her eyes. She hadn't expected the question, hadn't expected the vulnerability behind it.
"That's the best you're gonna get, honey," Loona replied with a half-shrug, though her tone had softened slightly. "I'm not big on pinky promises and blood oaths you Goetias do, but I'm the one sitting with you here" She paused, studying Olivia's face. "So, you gonna tell me what's really going on, or are we just gonna sit here bleeding and bullshitting all night?"
Olivia took a deep, shuddering breath, wincing as the movement sent fresh pain lancing through her injured shoulder. She glanced around the courtyard, making sure no one was within earshot before leaning closer to Loona.
"What's happening here... it's much bigger than it seems," she began, her voice dropping even lower, forcing Loona to lean in.
"Octavia is captured...because I screwed her up."
Realm of Inferno/Ring of Limbo/Ars Colonia/The Colony of New Limbo/Duke Barbatos' Hacienda.
[At least an hour later]
The sun crept over the jagged skyline of Limbo City, casting long shadows. Dawn in Hell was never truly peaceful, but these early hours carried a strange stillness. The normally crowded streets lay empty save for the occasional unfortunate soul stumbling home after a night of debauchery.
And it was a perfect time. President Amy Goetia moved across the courtyard. In one hand, she carried a metal briefcase emblazoned with a "Millitech" logo, the same one she got with...Octavia. Her eyes checked the courtyard every now and then. The servants wouldn't begin their duties for another hour, and Barbatos himself was away with Focalor somewhere. Still, caution was paramount.
Amy approached a weathered shed nestled against the eastern wall of the property. It was deliberately unremarkable, just a aged wood weathered by time. The heavy wooden door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, revealing a spacious interior housing Duke Barbatos' personal carriage. The carriage was as much a status symbol for Ars Goetia as a mode of transportation, used by the Duke only for the most important occasions.
The President closed the door behind her, plunging the shed into semidarkness. She stood motionless for a long moment, listening for any sound that might indicate unwanted company. After making sure she is alone, Amy carefully moved the center of the room and crouched down. She placed the Militech briefcase on the dirt floor and opened it, revealing a sophisticated device. The explosive was a standard hellfire bomb used by Militech Corporate goons.
"Five years of planning..." Amy murmured to herself as she carefully lifted the device from its casing. "And now, finally..."
Her fingers worked quickly, connecting wires and activating the internal mechanisms so that it's trigged by detonator instead. Amy preferred elegance in all things...including destruction. The device would not simply explode; it would obliterate the carriage while leaving minimal evidence of tampering. All thanks to Octavia...
...
Amy's mind wandered to Octavia once more. The young Goetian noble had proven unexpectedly useful, her naivety providing perfect cover for Amy's mission. It was almost a shame that the girl would eventually become collateral damage in the greater game... Almost.
"Your efforts to protect this city have only brought me closer to finish this once and for all," Amy said to the empty air as she was about to be done. "Such is the way of things in Hell."
*Click*
And with that, Amy finished arming the device. A small green light indicated it was now in standby mode, waiting for the remote signal that would activate it. She ran her fingers over its smooth surface one last time before turning her attention to the speccific part of carriage. Removing the secret detachable plank under the carriage, Amy then placed the explosive inside and reattached the plank back. That way, they would not find the explosive even if they tried as Ars Goetia is outdated with proper security procedure.
Now that away is the briefcase itself, no longer needed. In the far corner of the shed, partially hidden beneath the carriage itself, was a loose floorboard which was very unnoticeable to anyone not specifically looking for it. Amy pried it up, revealing a small cavity beneath. The space was just large enough to accommodate the entire briefcase. She placed the suitcase in the hiding spot. Once satisfied with its positioning, she replaced the floorboard, pressing it firmly until it sat flush with the surrounding planks.
"Perfect, should buy me some time." Amy whispered with satisfaction as she dusted off her hands.
There would be no trace of her visit here with no evidence to connect her to what would soon occur. Amy then withdrew a walkie-talkie and pressed her thumb against a small button on the side, bringing the device to her beak.
"Come in, Nest."
For a moment, there was only static. Then a voice responded.
"Acknowledged Red 7. Confirmation requested on timeline." The voice distorted through multiple layers of encryption but still discernible.
"Timeline unchanged." Amy's eyes swept across the grounds once more, ensuring she is alone. "Detonation will occur during the leave, as planned."
"Any complications?"
"Negative," Amy replied, allowing herself the faintest hint of satisfaction. "Infiltration proceeded without incident. No witnesses. The device is secure and undetectable."
A brief pause followed, the sound of muffled conversation in the background suggesting a consultation on the other end. Then the voice returned, slightly more pointed in its questioning.
"And what of our potential... complications? Any sign of interference from known parties?"
"All potential obstacles have been neutralized or diverted. Phenex remains focused on her own schemes, and our little owl is exactly where we need her to be. As for the other players..." Amy's beak curved into a cold smile as she paused, considering her words carefully before continuing. "Let's just say that those who might have guessed at our intentions have been silenced. Permanently."
"Excellent work, Red 7. Maintain your cover and continue operations as established. The oppressors must not suspect anything until it's too late."
"And the next phase?" Amy inquired with a hint of impatience.
"Proceed as planned. Continue to mingle. Maintain your presence until further notice. The revolution requires patience, Comrade."
Amy's grip on the walkie-talkie tightened momentarily, the only outward sign of her frustration. After you spend so many years as undercover, sacrificing anything resembling a normal existence, her patience was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain.
"Understood, Nest. Red 7 out."
Amy terminated the connection and returned the device to its hidden pocket, taking a moment to compose herself before stepping back into view. The I.R.A had been fighting from the shadows for longer than most Inferno realize...maybe she would finnaly see the results very soon. She stepped from behind the ornamental hedge, mentally rehearsing the day's official schedule. As President of the Goetian Council, she would be expected to-
"Madam President?"
The voice came from her left, unexpected and jarringly close. Amy's hand instinctively moved toward the concealed pistol in her jacket before her brain processed the identity of the speaker. She halted the defensive gesture mid-motion, transforming it smoothly into an adjustment of her jacket
Standing less than ten yards away, resplendent in the gleaming silver and blue armor was Forcas: the son of Duke Focalor and brother to Olivia. His posture was perfect, as befitted his station, and his helmet was tucked respectfully under one arm, revealing features that clearly marked him as Focalor's offspring. Unlike his sister's softer side, Forcas had inherited their father's sharp angles and piercing gaze, though his expression carried none of the Duke's renowned cunning and discipline.
"Sir Forcas, I didn't expect to encounter anyone at this hour." Amy acknowledged, betraying nothing of her surprise.
The young knight shifted his weight slightly, the only indication of his discomfort at confronting someone of her status. "Oh, I'm assigned to the perimeter patrol this morning, Miss Amy." His gaze flickered to the shed behind her, curiosity evident in his eyes. "If I may inquire... what brings you to Duke Barbatos' carriage house at this early hour?"
Amy felt a cold tendril of alarm but maintained her composed demeanor. Forcas was known by Focalor's 72nd Legion for his earnestness and diligence. It's admirable for a knight, but potentially problematic for her current situation. Unlike many of his peers, he could not be easily dismissed or intimidated.
"Prudence, Forcas. Simple as that." she replied smoothly, stepping forward with the confident bearing that had served her so well as President of Limbo City. "I thought it wise to personally inspect the Duke's carriage. We can't be too careful these days, especially with the recent... I.R.A's attempt on Octavia's train."
"Yeah, I understand that." Forcas' expression remained politely skeptical. "Surely that's a task for the night watch, Madam President? They performed their security checks just hours ago."
"Indeed they did." Amy agreed, allowing a hint of weariness to color her tone. "But be honest with me, Forcas. Since when we can rely on some knights to do job properly? I mean no offence or anything but being payed with min wage and some bread, I of course understand them cutting their corners in patrol. So as President, I bear responsibility for the safety of all Goetian nobles here in this city. One can never be too cautious when it comes to that, wouldn't you agree?"
"True, my boys do complain a lot, not that my dad doesn't see it. Funding from Lemegeton can be tedious at times." The young knight seemed to ease up. "But did you observe anything concerning during your inspection, Amy?"
"Nothing at all. The carriage appears secure." Amy responded with just the right measure of relief. She glanced toward the main house, then back to Forcas. "I would appreciate if you don't mention my visit here. No need to alarm the Dukes with security concerns that have already been addressed. They stressed enough as it is."
"Sure, Dad's been sleeping very bad lately...especially now that my sister is in the same city." Forcas sighed, not far away from dad's own problems.
"Of course he does, but I'm sure he is proud for both of you." Amy whispered to him, her tone warming slightly.
"Yeah..." Forcas lowered his eyes, sighing to himself. He cleared his throat, as if suddenly remembering something important. "I was hoping to encounter you this morning. My father has requested your presence at your earliest convenience."
"Oh?" Amy raised an eyebrow, her political instincts instantly alert. "Did Duke say why?"
"To discuss readjusting the garrison troops to strengthen the eastern flank."
"I see," Amy gestured graciously, falling into step beside the armored knight. "Then lead the way, Sir Forcas,"
Relief showed clearly on Forcas' young face. Nevertheless, he would start to move towards to where his father is. And just like that...a new opportunity for Amy. With the explosive now in place, anything that might weaken the City's defenses would strengthen I.R.A goals.
As Forcas led Amy across the sprawling hacienda grounds, the crimson morning light cast long shadows that seemed to follow them like silent accusers. The armored knight maintained a respectful distance, his posture rigid with the discipline drilled into him since childhood. For her part, Amy moved with the practiced grace of a politician.
"My father has been at the table since before dawn," Forcas mentioned, breaking the silence as they approached the eastern wing of the estate. "The I.R.A's movements have become... concerning."
"I understand, Forcas." Amy replied smoothly, her voice betraying nothing of her true thoughts. "These terrorists grow bolder by the day."
They rounded a corner, passing beneath an ornate archway adorned with the Barbatos crest. The courtyard opened before them, a wide expanse of polished stone surrounded by towering columns. At its center stood a massive table, its surface covered with detailed maps of the Ring of Limbo. Figurines representing military units were arranged across the map's surface in formations, each placement representing countless lives that would be spent in the coming conflict.
Duke Focalor hunched over the table. Around him stood a half-dozen commanders, each bearing the insignia of the 72nd Legion on their armor. Their voices fell silent as Amy and Forcas approached, all eyes turning toward the arrivals.
The Duke looked utterly exhausted. His normally immaculate feathers appeared ruffled and unkempt, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. The silver armor he wore bore smudges that spoke of neglect. For one who prided himself on appearance and precision, these small details revealed more about his mental state than any words could.
"Father," Forcas announced with a slight bow. "I've brought President Amy as requested."
Focalor straightened, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Amy. For a heart-stopping moment, she wondered if he somehow knew if her careful plans had been discovered. But then he nodded curtly, revealing nothing but professional courtesy in his gaze.
"Thank you for coming, President," Focalor said, his voice raspy from what had clearly been hours of giving orders. He turned to his assembled commanders, "Proceed as discussed. Establish the chokepoint in the uphill passages. I want three units of hand gunner infantry positioned along the ridge by nightfall."
"As you command, Your Grace. The 72nd will not fail you." A grim-faced hellhound with a scar running from brow to jaw bowed deeply.
"See to it, Commander." Focalor said slowly before gesturing him away. "Dismissed."
The commanders filed out, armor clinking softly as they departed, leaving Amy alone with Focalor and his son. The Duke's attention returned to the map, one talon tracing a line along what appeared to be a mountain pass.
"Forcas, leave us too." He ordered without looking up.
The young knight hesitated, clearly torn between curiosity and obedience. After a moment's pause, he bowed stiffly. He turned to Amy, inclining his head respectfully before leaving them alone.
Once Forcas had departed, an uncomfortable silence descended upon the courtyard. Amy moved closer to the strategic table, studying the map before switching her attention at Focalor.
"You look terrible, Focalor." Amy noted, allowing a hint of genuine concern to color her tone. "When did you last sleep?"
"Sleep is a luxury for peacetime, Amy. Something neither of us can afford at present day." The Duke's beak twisted in a humorless smile. But it faded momentarily as he gestured toward the map. "The I.R.A's last attack came an hour ago, Hollow Falls has...fallen to I.R.A's onslaught"
"So I've heard." Amy schooled her face into an appropriate mask of concern, though inwardly she thrilled at the confirmation that the I.R.A.'s diversionary tactics were working. Meridiana at least can pull good offensive plan if she wasn't a traitorous bitch that she is. "Your son mentioned concerns about the eastern approach?"
"More than concerns," Focalor grumbled, tapping a talon against a specific region of the map where the mountains gave way to more level terrain. "The scouts from Satan Legion's local regiment suggests they're massing forces here along the old trade route. If they break through, they'll have a direct path to the city."
"And you believe the uphill chokepoints will be sufficient?" Amy leaned closer, examining the area he indicated.
"They'll have to be." Focalor's exhaustion showed through in the way his shoulders sagged. "We don't have the manpower to fortify the entire perimeter."
"Has Duke Barbatos any thoughts with your assessment?
"He is much busy with collecting his inventions to be shipped to Lemegeton. But Barbatos sees threats everywhere except where they actually are..." Focalor muttered darkly. "He's convinced the I.R.A. will strike from the north, through the industrial sector." He made a dismissive gesture. "Tactically absurd. The northern approach is too exposed, too easily defended by us."
"And you're certain they'll come from the east?" Amy pressed, knowing that neither direction was the I.R.A.'s true target.
"As certain as one can be in war," Focalor replied, his talons adjusting several of the troop markers.
Amy circled the table slowly, studying the map once more. After a pause, she spoke once more.
"With all due respect, Your Grace, I believe you overestimate the I.R.A.'s strategic capabilities." She gestured dismissively at the eastern approach on the map. "These rebels lack cohesive leadership. Their attacks have been sporadic, uncoordinated. They're rabble with weapons, not a disciplined fighting force."
"You underestimate them at your peril, Madam President." Focalor's eyes narrowed, not liking a simple mindess of Goetian nobility in warfare. "Their attacks may appear uncoordinated to the untrained eye, but there's method in their tactics. Typical Guerilla warfare, attack short and quick with small army detachments. Retreat deep as your enemy licks it's wounds."
"Perhaps..." Amy conceded with practiced humility. "But if their organization is as fractured as one might think for an rebel group, wouldn't a decisive strike be more effective than this... waiting game? Shouldn't we find their main operation base, send Forcas with a legion to hunt down their main base. Cut off the serpent's head, so to speak."
The suggestion hung in the air between them. Amy watched Focalor's reaction carefully, noting the momentary flicker of consideration in his eyes before he shook his head firmly.
"Too risky. The I.R.A. has proven remarkably adept at laying traps. Three weeks ago, we lost an entire squadron in what we thought was a routine sweep of the eastern foothills." His voice darkened with memory. "They lured our forces into a narrow ravine, then collapsed the entire mountainside. Lost 894 out of 1000 legionaries in the skirmish."
Amy affected an appropriate expression of solemn respect while inwardly savoring the recollection of one of the I.R.A.'s most successful operations. She had personally helped plan that ambush.
"Besides," Focalor continued, straightening to his full, imposing height, "We lack the supplies for a proper offensive. The 72nd Legion and the city garrison will remain here for now. Better to defend what we know we can hold than to overextend and lose everything."
"A sound strategy, perhaps, If the battlefield were elsewhere." Amy let silence stretch between them for a moment before playing her next card. She moved to stand beside Focalor, both of them now facing the map as if confronting a common enemy. "But you're bringing war to this city, Focalor." She turned slightly, meeting his gaze directly. "To this city... where your daughter currently is."
The effect was immediate. Focalor's posture stiffened, his talons twitching with sudden tension. Without a word, he turned away from the table and strode toward the balcony where the view opened to reveal the distant silhouette of Marchosias's castle rising against the sky. He stood there for a long moment, arms crossed tightly across his armored chest.
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I haven't been laying awake night after night, calculating every risk, every possibility?" He turned back to face Amy, and for the first time, she saw past the legendary strategist to the father beneath. "I sent her there myself, Amy. Away from the palace, away from the politics. I thought she would be safer with Phenex."
"And now?" Amy prompted gently, although in reality, she got her phone out and photographed the map for I.R.A while Focalor had his back turned to her.
"Now I regret every decision that led to this moment." Focalor's gaze remained to the distant castle. His feelings shown total honesty...a rarity in Ars Goetia. "I regret accepting this posting from the beginning. Elector-Duke Astaroth insisted I was needed here... that my strategic mind could bring stability to Limbo Ring." A bitter laugh escaped him. "What a cruel joke. Five years of fighting, of politics, of endless compromise, and for what? The city stands on the precipice of civil war."
Amy remained silent as she already finished with photographs, allowing him this rare moment of vulnerability. The genuine pain in his voice was a gift-information she could use, weakness she could exploit. Yet beneath her cold exterior, she felt an unexpected twinge of... not quite sympathy, but perhaps recognition. The Duke's devotion to his daughter was real, undeniable even in Hell.
"My Olivia...She deserved better than to be caught in this web. She is too gentle for the games we play." Focalor continued, his voice softening at his daughter's name.. "And now she's there, in that castle, while Rebels roam freely and revolutionaries plot at our gates."
"She is not without protection..." Amy offered, the words sounding hollow even to her own ears.
"Protection?" Focalor's laugh was harsh. "Marchosias is a boy playing at being a lord. His hellhounds are skilled fighters, yes, but against an I.R.A army?" He shook his head. "And Astaroth as usual stalls his reinforcements to us."
Amy stood motionless, wondering to herself. For five years, she had worn the mask of President Amy Goetia flawlessly, playing the devoted public servant while secretly orchestrating the I.R.A's rise. Five years of smiling at these noble oppressors while plotting their downfall. Five years without a single moment of hesitation or doubt. The raw anguish in Focalor's voice as he spoke of his daughter had pierced through Amy's carefully constructed armor. It wasn't supposed to affect her this way. She had studied the Duke extensively for his military tactics, his political alliances, his weaknesses to exploit.
But she had never accounted for the depth of his love for his children. A father who actually cares for his offspring, How inconvenient...how much Amy wanted her dad to be alive right now. Her own father's face flickered briefly in her memory, his kind eyes, his gentle hands teaching her to write...before Ars Bael took his spirit. She had been only four years old when she lost him, forcing her to watch as his bones in front of her.
"Is it worth it?" Amy finally asked, her voice soft but steady.
"Worth what, exactly?" Focalor turned to her, his eyes fixed on her face. For one terrifying moment, Amy feared he could see through her, that her hesitation had compromised her cover.
"All of this. The endless fighting. The casualties." Amy gestured vaguely at the war table. She paused once more, carefully selecting her next words. "Perhaps... perhaps Limbo City is already lost. Maybe the strategic choice would be evacuation. Save the nobles, save the 72nd Legion, regroup elsewhere."
Amy let the suggestion hang in the air between them. It was better that way, she thought. Better for him to take Olivia, Forcas, and flee. Let the I.R.A claim the city without further bloodshed. But Focalor stared at her as if she'd suggested setting fire to his own feathers. A tense silence stretched between them before he released a long, shuddering breath.
"The Ars Goetia would tear us apart for such a failure. Not just me, Amy. You. Olivia. Forcas. Even young Marchosias. The Electors do not tolerate strategic retreats...they call them what they are: defeats." His talons clenched and unclenched at his sides. "Astaroth would make examples of us all."
"And the alternative? Watch this city burn piece by piece? Your soldiers die in droves for what may be an unwinnable fight?" Amy knew this to be true. The penalty for failure among the Goetian nobility was swift and merciless. Yet she had to press further.
Focalor's feathers ruffled slightly. He turned away from her again, his gaze sweeping across the city sprawled below-the tangled streets, the smoking factories, the humble dwellings of thousands of demons going about their daily struggle for existence in Hell.
"I cannot abandon the citizens of Limbo," he said finally, his voice firmer than before. "They are subjects of Ars Goetia. My subjects too. I swore an oath to protect them as Duke."
Amy fought to keep her expression neutral despite the bitter taste in her mouth. How convenient for him to remember the common folk now. Where was this noble concern when taxes stripped them of their meager earnings? When the factories worked them until their bodies gave out? When their children disappeared into the mills and mines never to return?
"Noble sentiments, my duke..." she said, unable to keep a slight edge from her voice. "But sentiments don't stop bullets or bombs."
"No, but duty does not end when the fight becomes difficult." Focalor agreed, his posture straightened. "Dukes are always meant to be Ars Goetia's sword. And my ancestors followed that belief. Long time ago, my Great-Great Grandmother, Priestess Olivia of the Cult of Ars Notoria made a vow to Ars Belial."
"A vow?" Amy prompted, as she stepped closer,
"To protect Ars Goetia and its people, no matter the cost. That vow has passed down through my bloodline. Each generation, one of us takes up the mantle of protector." Focalor said solemnly as his eyes met Amy's, fierce with conviction. "I will not be the one to break that chain. I will not abandon Limbo City to the I.R.A. or anyone else who threatens it."
"Even if it costs you everything?" Amy asked quietly. "Your position, your family?"
"That is the nature of duty, Amy. Sometimes we must sacrifice what we hold most dear to honor what we believe."
Something twisted in Amy's chest-an emotion she couldn't immediately identify. Not quite guilt, not entirely doubt, but a discomforting blend of both. For years, she had painted all nobles with the same brush: corrupt, selfish, indifferent to suffering. Focalor's words challenged that simplicity. Yet he's still the enemy. Noble words don't erase the system he upholds.
But at the same time...Amy saw Focalor...like an equal. The irony wasn't lost on her. Here Amy stood, having sacrificed everything: her identity, her chance at a normal life, even her moral boundaries for her beliefs. For the revolution and for the I.R.A. In this one thing, she and Focalor were mirror images of each other, standing on opposite sides of an unbridgeable ideological chasm but driven by the same willingness to sacrifice.
"I know this burden is not just mine," As if sensing her internal conflict, Focalor placed a gentle talon on her shoulder. The gesture was so unexpected that Amy nearly flinched. "You've been here for this city alongside me these five years. The people look to you as much as they look to me. I couldn't do this without your support, Amy."
Amy only lowered her eyes, staring at the floor. The sincerity in his voice was like a knife twisting in her gut. And she did see more clearly than she wanted to. She saw the complexity that her revolutionary fervor had allowed her to ignore. She saw that Focalor, for all his faults, was not the simple villain she had cast him as. Most troublingly of all, she saw the possibility that the I.R.A's vision of a better Hell might come at a cost greater than she had been willing to acknowledge.
Sometimes it made her wonder...is it that End justifies the means?
Before Amy could respond, the sound of armored boots pounding against stone shattered the moment. The heavy doors to the courtyard burst open as Forcas stormed in with obvious distress.
"Father!" He called out, his voice shown an urgency that immediately put both Focalor and Amy on alert. "We have visitors: Lord Marchosias and his entourage. They say it's about an Exorcist attack at Marchosias's castle! Olivia was injured with one of the Aldecaldos was killed."
"Olivia?" The effect on Focalor was immediate and visceral. His talons clenched into fists at his sides with barely suppressed emotion. The mention of his daughter's injury seemed to age him instantly, lines of worry etching themselves deeper into his already weary face. "Take me to them. Now."
Focalor didn't waste another moment. With a swift gesture to his son, he began striding toward the doors. Amy remained frozen for a moment, her mind racing to process this unexpected development. An Exorcist attack? Olivia injured? This wasn't part of the plan nor the I.R.A. had nothing to do with that. But allas there is no point of guessing.
Amy smoothed her expression into one of appropriate concern and hurried after Focalor and Forcas. Her boots clicked against as they traversed the opulent corridors of the hacienda, servants scrambling to get out of their way as the Duke moved with single-minded determination.
The massive double doors at the front of the estate loomed ahead, ornately carved with the intertwined crest of House Barbatos. Two armored guards stood at attention, pushing the doors open as they approached. At its center stood Lord Marchosias, drawn tight with fatigue. Beside him stood Loona and Cyrus. Behind them loomed Gaap, the imposing demon’s scarlet eyes narrowed with suspicion as he surveyed the hacienda.
But it was Olivia who immediately drew all attention. The young owl stood slightly apart from the others, her delicate frame supported by Loona. Her right shoulder wrapped in bloodstained bandages, and even from a distance, Amy could see the careful way she held herself, as if each movement caused pain. Her normally vibrant look was dulled with dust and what appeared to be dried blood, and her eyes were shadowed with a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion.
Focalor stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his daughter, a strangled sound escaping his beak-something between a gasp and a moan. For a brief moment, he seemed utterly frozen, as if his mind couldn't process the reality of his injured child standing before him.
"Olivia!" he finally whispered, the single word laden with such raw emotion that even Amy felt something twist in her chest. "My sweet girl... what have they done to you?"
The distance between father and daughter vanished in an instant as Focalor crossed the pavilion in three long strides. With infinite gentleness, he gathered Olivia into his arms, careful not to disturb her injured shoulder.
"Dad..." Olivia, whispered, no words can describe how much she wanted it. To feel it properly.
"It's alright now," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he pressed his beak against the top of her head. "Daddy's here. You're safe now. You're going to be alright."
Olivia seemed to melt into her father's embrace, her good arm wrapping around him as she pressed her face against his chest. For a moment, she looked much younger than her years-a child seeking comfort rather than the capable young noblewoman she had become. Forcas moved to join the embrace, placing a protective hand on his sister's shoulder. The family tableau was so intimate, so genuine, that Amy found herself averting her eyes, feeling like an intruder on a private moment.
But Gaap was here as well.
"How touching..." The Prince drawled, his gaze sliding past the family reunion to fix on Amy with undisguised contempt. "The Goetian family reunion. All we need now is a photographer to capture this moment of supposed nobility. Bit shame that fucking bitch standing over there!"
Amy met Gaap's gaze evenly, nothing she showed in her face that she is glad to see him. A harsh laugh escaped Gaap's beak as he took a step forward.
"What? Surprised I'm alive, huh, President Amy?" Gaap's voice dripping with mockery on the title. "You proved quite cunning there, didn't you? Wish I could say the same to poor Octavia, who fell into your bullshit, playing the concerned friend while setting her up as bait"
Marchosias's ears flattened against his skull, and Loona only narrowed her eyes, getting tired of this nobility games. Even Focalor pulled back slightly from his daughter, his eyes darting between Gaap and Amy with confusion.
"I don't know what you're implying, Prince Gaap," Amy replied coolly, though inwardly she panicked. How much did Gaap know? How much was speculation? "But this hardly seems the time for such petty accusations."
"Petty?" Gaap took another step forward, tall frame casting a shadow across the pavilion stones. "Is that what you call the attempted murder of a Goetian Prince, huh?"
"What are you two talking about?" Focalor's attention had fully shifted now, his protective grip on Olivia not loosening.
Gaap's eyes glinted with malice as he stepped forward, talons clicking against the polished stone of the pavilion. The silence that had fallen over the gathering was thick with tension, like the air before a storm breaks.
"Let me enlighten you all about our esteemed President," Gaap began, his voice dripping with venom. "It's quite remarkable how the I.R.A. has been one step ahead of us at every turn, isn't it? Almost as if they had inside information."
Focalor's grip on Olivia tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing as they flicked between Gaap and Amy.
"These are serious accusations, Prince Gaap. I suggest you choose your next words carefully." Amy warned, arms crossed.
"Oh, I've chosen them with the utmost care, Amy," Gaap replied, his beak twisting into a cruel smile. "Tell me, how did the I.R.A. know exactly when Octavia's train would depart? How did they know precisely which car she would be in? The security details?" He jabbed a talon in Amy's direction. "Because the President of this city must know every schedule in and out. Nothing moves through Limbo without her knowledge or approval."
"That's absurd. The train schedules are accessible to dozens of officials. Security details are known to the entire 72nd Legion. If there was a leak, it could have come from anywhere." Amy maintained her composure, though her heart hammered against her ribs.
"Official under you, don't forget." Gaap countered as he didn't give up that easily, turning to face Loona and Cyrus. "If you don't believe me, then explain the Militech ambush. When was it-day or two ago? The Aldecaldos rescued one of theirs only for Militech troops to arrive early, didn't they? Almost as if someone had tipped them off." His eyes slid back to Amy. "Someone who knew the Aldecaldos would be there in order to get rid off Marchosias' own servants."
Loona's ears flattened against her skull, a low growl rumbling in her chest. Although she hated Gaap with all of her passion, he...did have good points.
"You can't possibly believe I had anything to do with that," Amy protested, her voice steady despite the growing panic beneath her calm exterior. "Militech operates independently. They have their own intelligence network."
"And what about today?" Gaap pressed, his voice rising as he gestured toward Olivia's injured shoulder. "An Exorcist infiltrated Marchosias's castle. They killed an Aldecaldo and wounded Lady Olivia, all for the sake of killing me." He turned to address Focalor directly. "And your trusted President did nothing . No alerts, no warnings, no mobilization of city defenses. Curious, isn't it? Almost as if she knew it was coming."
"That's enough!" Amy snapped, getting tired of it. "This is nothing but baseless slander. How could I possibly predict Exorcist movements? Their presence in the city is as much a shock to me as it is to all of you. I can't be responsible for every security breach or failure of intelligence."
Focalor's expression had darkened as he processed Gaap's accusations. His protective stance over Olivia hadn't changed, but there was a new wariness in his eyes as he regarded Amy.
"It's all bullshit!" Amy continued, addressing Focalor directly now. "You know me, Duke Focalor. We've worked side by side for five years. Do you really think I'd endanger your daughter? That I'd betray this city?" She spread her hands in a gesture of openness. "I've dedicated my life to serving Ring of Limbo and Ars Goetia. These accusations are nothing but a power grab from a prince who's always resented peasantry."
Gaap's beak curved into a cold smile as he inclined his head in mock appreciation.
"Thank you, President, for so elegantly making my point for me." He turned to address the gathering, gesturing theatrically toward Amy. "Did you all catch that? 'A prince who's resented peasantry.' Not 'citizens,' not 'subjects,' but 'peasantry. Our esteemed President has always been a 'people's person,' hasn't she? Always concerned with the plight of the common rabble, always pushing policies that favor the lower rings at the expense of noble interests." His voice dropped to a dangerous purr. "Her allegiance was never to Ars Goetia. It has always been to the low-lifes and degenerates who would see our order torn apart."
Amy's composure finally cracked, her eyes flashing with genuine anger. "This mess wouldn't have even started if the Ars Goetia leadership in Lemegeton wasn't so catastrophically incompetent! While our nobles play your petty power games, the common demons suffer. The I.R.A. didn't emerge from nothing-they rose because our kind has failed this realm for centuries!"
A shocked silence fell over the pavilion. Even Focalor's eyes widened.
"Did you just defend the I.R.A., Amy?" Marchosias asked softly, feeling betrayed by this. As much his heart went to the colonists of this city, the I.R.A proved themselves to be a terrorist group, dedicated to extreme killing to the point of obliteration of settlements.
"How unfortunate, but I didn't come alone." Gaap's eyes gleamed with triumph. He turned to Olivia, who stood rigid in her father's protective embrace. "Lady Olivia, now it's your time to shine. Tell your father everything."
"Olivia? What is he talking about?" Focalor looked down at his daughter in confusion.
Olivia hesitated, her eyes darting nervously between her father and Amy. She took a deep breath, stepping slightly away from Focalor's embrace.
"Just a half an hour before Exorcist attacked. I was in Octavia's room inside the Marchosias's castle," She began, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I couldn't sleep, so I went out for some air. From there, I have a clear view of..." She paused, gathering courage before continuing. "I saw Marquise Octavia getting into President Amy's car. They drove off together, and since then... Octavia hasn't returned. Dad, I believe Octavia was captured by Amy and I.R.A. for their own goals. "
All eyes turned to Amy, whose face had gone perfectly still as deadly silence fell over the pavilion. Amy shook a bit in fear, wondering the escape scenarios.
"That's preposterous!" Amy said finally, her voice tightly controlled. "I...well I-I..."
"Then why lie about it?" Gaap pressed, having a greatest time of his life.
Focalor felt the world shrinking around him, the vast courtyard suddenly too small, too confined. The accusations hung in the air like poisoned daggers, each one finding its mark in his carefully constructed perception of reality. His eyes shifted between his daughter and the woman he had trusted as his ally for five long years.
Amy Goetia. President of Limbo City. His confidante in matters of state and city affairs. The woman who had stood beside him just moments ago as he revealed his family's ancient oath-a secret shared with precious few outside his bloodline.
And Olivia. His sweet, gentle Olivia. The child who had never mastered the art of deception, whose transparent emotions had been both her greatest charm and her greatest vulnerability in the viper's nest of Goetian politics. Even as a fledgling, her attempts at hiding mischief had been comically obvious-her eyes would dart away, her voice would rise in pitch.
Olivia wasn't lying. Focalor and Forcas knew the signs too well.
The Duke's mind wondered if every interaction with Amy over the past five years were genuine. The Ars Colonia was a highly corrupted colony administration with policy that always seemed to favor the Blasmephy Ring, wealth extraction to Inferno proper. Many times it failed the proper recolonization by Inferno of Ring Limbo. But now...Focalor wondered if Amy made it much worse. The subtle resistance to military actions against I.R.A. strongholds. The convenient absences before major attacks. The gentle push earlier today to abandon the city rather than defend it.
But at the same time, Amy had been nothing but loyal to Limbo City-her dedication to its people was unquestionable. She had worked tirelessly, often at the expense of her own health and comfort, to improve conditions throughout the Ring. Her passion for justice, her contempt for corrupt officials, her unwavering stance against exploitation-these were the qualities that had earned his respect.
Had he been so blind? So trusting?
"I know what you're thinking, Focalor. But consider who benefits from these accusations. Prince Gaap has always resented me. This is nothing but a power play, using your daughter as a pawn." Amy tried to defend herself.
Focalor closed his eyes. He then looked at his son, standing tall and uncertain beside him. At Marchosias, whose face was drawn with exhaustion and betrayal. At Loona and Cyrus, whose loyalty to Marchosias had cost them blood and pain. At Gaap, whose smug satisfaction couldn't entirely mask the genuine anger beneath. And finally, at his daughter, wounded but unbowed, telling a truth she must know would ignite a firestorm.
"Dad...I-" His daughter looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest.
"I know, snowflake. I know." Focalor's grip tightened slightly on Olivia's uninjured shoulder as he finally gets on his feet once more, crossing his arms.
He made his mind.
"President Amy Goetia," Focalor announced, his tone formal and cold. Even his legionnaires adjusted their stance, recognizing that voice that brought them victories. "Based on the testimony provided and the concerning pattern of events. By the authority vested in me by Elector-Duke Astaroth as military commander of this region, I am placing you under house arrest pending a full investigation into these allegations."
"You can't be serious," Amy protested, feeling betrayed. "My Duke, you can't just-"
"In times of war, when the security of Ars Goetia is threatened, the authority supersedes presidential leadership." Focalor interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. His eyes were hard as stone as they bore into Amy's. "If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear. The investigation will clear your name and you will be reinstated with our sincere apologies. And don't try to run. An innocent leader would welcome the chance to clear their name. Only the guilty flee from justice."
Amy's eyes darted around the pavilion, assessing exits, calculating odds. The guards continued their approach, talons resting on the hilts of their swords. Unfortunately, it was too late. The guards now stood on either side of Amy, awaiting the final order to take her into custody. The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring. Then, something in Amy's demeanor changed. The mask of the dignified politician slipped away entirely, replaced by something older, harder - her truth face.
"You're making a terrible mistake, Focalor. You’re all fools!" She hissed, her eyes sweeping across the assembled nobles. "You preening, entitled fools . You think this is about politics? About power? This is about survival! Ars Goetia's days are numbered, and you're too blind to see it!"
Focalor gestured sharply, and the guards moved to restrain Amy. When one of them grabbed her arm, Amy yanked it in brute force.
"Don't touch me!" Amy hissed, with the guard was about to unsheathe his sword, only to stop when Amy didn't resist physically anymore. She let herself be escorted out but even then, she didn't give that easily with last parting words "The Seven Deadly Sins are using you! Once you've outlived your usefulness, they'll discard you all like the pawns you are! The Cult of Ars Notoria tried to warn us, but you silenced them! When Lucifer's power falls, do you think the Sins will spare any of you? I'm fighting for the future of Hell itself while you squabble over territory and titles! Mark my words, Focalor. The End Times will come and nothing will save us from it!"
Silence fell over the pavilion as the heavy doors closed behind her. Focalor stood motionless, the weight of what had transpired settling over him like a shroud. Olivia moved to his side, her good hand finding his and squeezing gently.
"Dad?" She said softly. "Are you alright?"
Focalor looked down at his daughter, at the bandages on her shoulder, at the worry in her eyes-worry for him, even now. A surge of protective love washed through him, momentarily drowning out the chaos of his thoughts.
"I will be, one day." He assured her, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears. Focalor then turned to Marchosias, Loona, and Cyrus, his expression grim. "This situation has gone from bad to worse. If Amy has been compromised, then so is our entire defensive strategy."
"The I.R.A. will likely try to squeeze every bit of information about Limbo City from Octavia before..." Marchosias set in a serious frown. He then hesitated to say the next part, glancing at Olivia before continuing in a softer tone. "Before they eliminate her once she's outlived her usefulness."
Loona tsked at that, not liking it all. Cyrus placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, a reminder to have a faith.
"If Amy is indeed a spy, then the city is already compromised. And Octavia might already be..." Focalor couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, seeing the pain it caused his daughter. Instead, he shook his head, pushing away the dark possibilities that threatened to paralyze him. He straightened, once again the commanding strategist who had earned his reputation through centuries of warfare. "No, we can't afford to think that way. All of you, follow me. Every moment we waste in speculation is another moment Marquise Octavia remains in danger."
Focalor led the group through the winding corridors of the hacienda. Eventually, they entered a spacious war room dominated by an enormous table carved from obsidian. Upon its glossy surface lay a detailed topographical map of the Outer Limbo Ring, extending beyond the city's borders into the treacherous wastelands and mountains that formed the realm's natural boundaries. Small figurines representing military units were scattered across the map's surface-each placement representing countless lives and strategic positions.
Focalor circled the table once, scanning the map before he placed his talons firmly on its edge and looked up at the gathered party.
"As of this moment, I am declaring martial law throughout Limbo City and its surrounding territories. The 72nd Legion will assume control of all civic functions. We must root out any collaborator elements embedded within our infrastructure before they can further compromise our security."
"A military junta? And what will Duke Barbatos think of this? He is still the appointed governor of this region." Marchosias's ears twitched with concern, his tail swishing behind him in agitation.
Focalor he released a harsh laugh devoid of humor. "At this point, Lord Marchosias, we've lost complete control over the region. If our own President was an I.R.A. operative for five years without detection, there's no telling how deep the infiltration goes. Barbatos will understand the necessity. He may be eccentric, but he's no fool when it comes to military matters."
"And what of Octavia?" Loona interjected, her voice rough with concern. "Like you said, every moment we waste on bureaucracy is another moment she remains in their hands. I'm not loosing her."
"Indeed. Which is why we must apply cold logic to narrow down her location." Focalor nodded grimly. He leaned over the map, talons tracing the boundaries of Limbo City. "If Octavia was captured this early night as Lady Olivia witnessed, logic dictates she must be held in a fortified complex that isn't far from the city. They wouldn't risk transporting a high-value prisoner across open territory when their forces are already engaged with ours."
"Which means both the Borderlands and Inner Ring are effectively eliminated from our search," Forcas added to dad's wisdom, leaning forward to study the map. "It would need to be a secure location as well-somewhere the I.R.A. has held long enough to properly convert into a base of operations." His talon hovered over the map, circling potential locations. "They would need time to establish security protocols, holding cells, interrogation facilities..."
"All this speculation assumes the girl is still alive. The I.R.A. aren't known for their mercy toward Goetian nobility." Gaap scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.
Focalor shot him a withering glare. "If you have nothing constructive to add, Prince Gaap, perhaps you should wait outside."
Gaap raised his hands in mock surrender but remained silent, his eyes narrowed as he studied the map.
"Here, might be my best guess it’s Fort Perdition." Focalor said suddenly, his talon landing decisively on a location northeast from the map's perspective. "It was abandoned by colonial forces 6 months ago following budget cuts from Lemegeton. Amy herself recommended the withdrawal, citing the need to consolidate our defense perimeter."
"I remember that fort," Forcas said, nodding slowly. "Solid construction, deep underground levels originally designed as holding cells. Easily defensible position with clear sightlines in all directions. And just remote enough to avoid loose eyes, but close enough to maintain supply lines to the city,"
"How certain are we she is being held there?" Marchosias leaned forward, studying the location intently.
"Nothing is certain in war unless confirmed, Marquis," Focalor replied grimly. "But this fits all our criteria. I've received reports of unusual activity in that sector over the past few months. Nothing concrete enough to warrant direct action, especially with our forces stretched thin as they are."
"Another convenient oversight on President Amy's part, no doubt," Gaap muttered. "If Octavia is there, do you even have a plan? Even I, a Prince, know a full frontal assault would give them time to kill her before you will reach the holding cells."
"Good point, boy. You're learning something." Focalor's talons drummed against the table, eyes fixed on the map as if willing it to reveal its secrets. "Let's be honest here, I cannot commit a full Legion to this rescue operation." He looked up, meeting the confused gazes around him. "If we strip our defenses now, we risk losing the entire city."
"But Dad, Octavia-" Olivia's face fell, her bandaged shoulder seeming to slump further
"I understand, which is why we do it not by brute force." Focalor cut in gently. He then turned his attention at his son. "Forcas, I give you 500 of my best legionaries under your command for this operation."
"As you wish, father." Forcas bowed his head, promising to bring Octavia back.
"Fifty against an entire fort?" Gaap scoffed. "That's suicide, not strategy."
"Numbers aren't everything in warfare, Prince Gaap," Focalor replied coolly. He pointed to a location just south of Fort Perdition. "Besides, we have other resources at our disposal. Satan's Legion has a Regimental Camp stationed here I'll reach out to Legatus to coordinate a joint operation."
"Can they be trusted?" Marchosias asked. The Sons of Satan are not the best choice when it comes to reliance.
"More than our own president, Marchosias." Focalor said bitterly. "Besides, Satan's Legion has no love for the I.R.A. The doctrine of "Inferno Undivided" dictates every threat towards Hell is an threat to all Seven Deadly Sins. They will act in the name of Satan, no matter what."
"What about corporate goons?" Marchosias added. Although less trusting to Satan's Legion, you can at least rely on them if money is good.
"Militech, you mean?" Focalor sighed, pinching the bridge of his beak. "With Militech, I need to sit down and sign a new contract for them to act. At minimum, it will take a week to finalize a deal."
"Octavia may not have a week." Forcas waved his hand to the side. "Scratch them from our list."
"Yes, but with some of mine and Satan Legion's finest, we might pull it off." He looked around the room, his gaze settling on each face in turn. "This is how we'll proceed: Marchosias, Olivia, and I will remain here. We'll make it seem as though we're preoccupied with military bureaucracy -give the impression that we have no clue about Octavia's whereabouts." He turned to Forcas. "Meanwhile, you will lead the strike team with our Legion and whatever support Satan's Legion can provide. A surgical strike-in and out before they realize what's happening."
"I won't let you down, Lord Focalor."
"I know you won't, my knight." Focalor returned the nod with solemn confidence and affection.
"I'm going with Forcas too." Gaap, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly stepped forward. All eyes turned to the prince in surprise. "Don't look so shocked, you all. I'm tired of having a literal paint arrow mark on my back, sitting around waiting for the next assassin to come. It's time I actually did something useful in this wretched conflict. And mark my words, I dismantle everything Amy built to spite her."
Focalor studied him for a long moment, then shrugged, not really caring.
"It's your wish, Prince Gaap. Your death will be in your hands." He then turned to Loona, the hellhound's ears perking up attentively. "And what about you, young Hound? Do you wish to join Forcas and Gaap on this mission?"
"Yes, I'm going to rescue Octavia's sorry ass from her misery." Loona said simply, her claws flexing at her sides.
"In that case, the Aldecaldos will ride with her." Cyrus spoke up immediately, stepping forward to stand beside Loona, Loona's ears pricked up in surprise, her eyes widening slightly as she turned to look at Cyrus.
"I had hoped you and your clan would remain here, Cyrus. The city's defenses could use your expertise." Marchosias creased with concern.
Cyrus shook his head, his expression resolute. "The injured will remain here under proper care, Lord Marchosias. But if she goes, we will go with her.
Marchosias studied him for a moment before nodding. "I appreciate this, Cyrus. Be careful you two."
"You know us, March." Loona assured with a confident smirk.
"Now that our plan is taking shape, there's another critical issue we must address." Focalor cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the matter at hand. His talons traced a circle around Fort Perdition. "We still need 100% confirmation that Octavia is indeed being held there. Intelligence gathering will take time-time that we must use wisely." His gaze then settled briefly on Loona and Cyrus. "I need to discuss certain... goverment level secrets. Information that cannot leave this inner circle." He gestured toward the door. "Ms. Loona, Mr. Cyrus, if you wouldn't mind waiting outside for a moment? This won't take long."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Loona's features, but before she could protest, Cyrus placed a gentle hand on her arm.
"Come on, let's give them their space."
Loona's eyes narrowed slightly, but she gave a curt nod. The pair made their way out of the war room, the heavy doors closing behind them with an ominous thud. Once in the corridor, Loona's calm shattered. She spotted an ornate trash bin nestled between two marble columns and promptly kicked it with such force that it flew across the hallway, scattering its contents in a spray of paper and debris.
"Fucking VOID!" she snarled, her fangs bared in a vicious grimace. "I'm so sick of this!"
"Why the rage?" Cyrus watched her calmly, making no move to stop her outburst.
"I'm getting sick of all this Ars Goetian nobility bullshit!" Loona whirled around to him. She gestured violently toward the closed war room doors. "Gaap with his stuck-up attitude, that traitorous bitch Amy, and even Olivia a little bit with her vague attitude." She paced back and forth, claws clicking against the marble floor. "They're all the same-acting like they own the fucking universe while the rest of us are just nuisance."
"That's their entire history for them." Cyrus leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched her. "Like Imps say about us, we say it to Goetia-you can't teach a sick bird of Hell new tricks. They've been playing their games for millennia. Can't expect them to change now."
Loona's shoulders slumped slightly as her initial fury ebbed, much calmer now. Most of her frustration is just being worried for Octavia's sake. She pulled out her phone again, with finger scrolled through to find Octavia's contact. The messaging app showed her own texts-at least ten of them sent over the 20 minutes-all variations of "Pick up your fucking phone" and "Where are you?" Each one remained unanswered.
"So much for simple bodyguard job." Loona put it back, no point of texting. "Why are you joining me on this anyway? Before all this, you kept saying it wasn't your fight."
"It's not for us, It's for you, Loona." Cyrus pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer to her. "I saw your devotion when you volunteered to save your friend. Hence I ask you: does Octavia really mean that much to you?"
Loona's expression softened momentarily, vulnerability flickering across before she could mask it.
"Yes, Cyrus. I care for her." She answered, the single word, she rarely allowed herself to show who Loon really deep inside.
"Then that's good enough for me." Cyrus shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You stood for the Aldecaldos when we needed you. The Aldecaldos stand with Loona now. We've got your back-that's how we treat one of us."
"I'm not one of you, remember?" Loona didn't said it with her typical snarky way, just casual correction.
"Officially, no. But Hati gave you his dogtags, his way of telling he trusted you as one of us."
Loon stared at him at him for a long moment before sighing heavily.
"Wish Hati hadn't died for this bullshit," She muttered, running a paw through the white fur on her head. "He deserved better than this."
"We all did...but our fuck-ups in the past united us together. The Aldecaldos are Lost-And-Dammed forever."
"Yeah..." Loona sighed once more, deciding to stir up conversation into less...depressive one. "Once all this is done... if we survive that is... what will you do next?"
"Depends. If we win this war, Lord Marchosias' time in Limbo City would officially end. The Aldecaldos will pack up and seek fortune somewhere else." Cyrus shrugged, his gaze drifting to the floor. "That's our way-never staying in one place too long. The open wastelands call to us. You?"
"Don't know," Loona leaned against the wall, her ears flattening slightly as she considered the question. "Maybe I'll go back to my dad. But sometimes I wonder if there's something different out there for me. Something more than just being Blitzo's receptionist."
"You're welcome to join us." Cyrus casually said.
Loona only chuckled at that. "Yeah, me...a stray dog among the clan of stray dogs. I doubt anyone would want me in your little club."
"Hati would have wanted you with us..." Cyrus simply said. "We don't discriminate nor are we being pushy, Loona."
"Yes...he said that to me before he died..." Loona would close her eyes for a moment. "Look, Cyrus. I-"
*New Message Notification Vibration*
The the sudden vibration of her phone interrupted her thoughts. She snatched the device from her pocket with such speed that Cyrus blinked in surprise. She shifted from hope to confusion as she stared at the screen.
"Unknown sender," Loona muttered, her brow furrowing as she opened the message.
No seconds later when Loona's eyes widened, breath catching in her throat. The screen displayed a photo that made her blood run cold-Octavia bound to a chair, her head slumped down as if she was unconscious. Below the image was a set of coordinates where Octavia currently is and a message that made Loona's fur stand on end:
"I.R.A. is growing reckless. Be quick if you want your friend saved." - Your Benefactor
"Cyrus," Loona slowly started, showing her message to him. "We have an jackpot"
"Then let us tell them and roll out immediately, Loona." Cyrus would check his sawn-off, if bullets were in there. With a quick snap motion to bring the barrel part back to the sawn-off body, he put it back to his holster.
"The Hunt begins..."
Chapter 41: The Providence Shall Set You Free
Summary:
"Grace makes the promise and providence the payment." - John Flavel
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
...
...
...
*Shuffling*
Unknown Female Voice: "There, settle her down here and secure her wrists. I Won't take chances with her."
*Shuffling noises followed by one single thud sound."
"Good job, Lieutenant. Now we can close this little operation of ours."
Rönne Shaffer's voice: "Thank you, ma'am."
*Short Silence*
Unknown Female Voice: "Tsk... look at her. Sleeping like an angel."
Rönne Shaffer's voice: "Right...how long till the dose wears off?"
Unknown Female Voice: "Unknown, considering the effect for Goetia is different than for Hellborns. So, I presume there is an ETA of 10 minutes or less left for her."
*Footsteps followed by the sound of someone picking up a syringe from the table."
Unknown Female Voice: "That being said, I'm going to apply one final dosage for today to make her babble out. Ars Goetia is getting rowdy and unpredictable lately."
Rönne Shaffer's voice: "She is too stressed at this point. Should we not allow her to rest?"
Unknown Female Voice: "Can't waste any time with the Heir of Hell running around, Lieutenant. After the dosage, make sure that...our "friends" won't hurt her before she wakes up. I need her alive."
Rönne Shaffer's voice: "Aye-Aye, Agent."
*Footsteps getting closer. Push of a Button of Record Player.*
Unknown Female Voice: "Interrogation Sequence 651-AX4, under the supervision of Agent Serial Designation 11:23-XX. Currently administering a small dosage of sedative to subject Marquise Octavia Goetia, Age 23 in Hell's standards. Stand by."
...
*Sound of the Needle penetrating the neck, followed by injection.*
*Gasp*
Octavia jolted awake with a gasp, her hand flying instinctively to her neck. Her fingers met only smooth feathers. No pain, just... nothing.
"W-what was that?!" Octavia murmured to herself, confusion clouding her thoughts as her eyes adjusted to the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. The black and purple décor, her posters of obscure metal bands, the constellation patterns she'd painted on her ceiling as a child...everything was exactly as it should be.
Just a dream.
Relaxing a bit, Octavia yawned and stretched her arms overhead before reaching for her phone to check the time. 8:37 AM. Later than she usually woke up, but not terribly so. There are a few new messages from Loona, some social media alerts, and an occasional text from her father that she slept through. Ordinary enough, though for some reason, reading them gave her an odd sense of déjà vu .
Octavia set the phone down and rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel the lingering heaviness of sleep. Her dreams had been... strange. She couldn't quite remember it... it was something industrial, with demons in uniforms, and someone named...Amy?
"Pluck my feathers...what's with these stupid dreams of mine? Probably that stupid movie Olivia made me watch..." Octavia muttered to herself, referring to...wait, who was Olivia? There was only Octavia. She was Via .
Or is she?
...
Octavia frowned at this, rather confused as to why she was getting mixed signals. But the thought slipped away as she heard movement in the hallway outside her door. It's probably one of the servants preparing for the day as they tend to. Again, it might have been just a dream messing with her...not the first time that Octavia woke up feeling how her mind was fucking with her after deep sleep.
The young Marquise swung her legs over the side of the bed, talons sinking into the plush carpet. For a moment, she expected a different sensation...cold metal? Maybe concrete? But the softness of the carpet was exactly as it should be.
She went through her morning routine on autopilot. Shower, brush her teeth, choose an outfit from her extensive wardrobe, and apply her usual dark makeup. Everything felt perfectly normal, yet there was a persistent nagging sensation at the back of her mind, like she'd forgotten something important...and her neck felt weird.
And speaking of it.
As she applied her eyeliner, she noticed a small dark spot on her neck in the mirror's reflection. When she turned to examine it directly, she found nothing, just smooth feathers. She blinked, confused, before dismissing it as a trick of the light. Just in time for her phone to buzz with another message, this one from her...mother.
Breakfast is ready, darling. Your father is joining us this morning. Don't dawdle. :)
Octavia stared at the text. Her mom joining for breakfast? That was... unusual. She typically avoided breakfast when she and her dad were there, taking her meals somewhere else. And her mother sounded... pleasant? Not that Stella was...usually "unpleasant," but the warmth from the message felt slightly off .
Nevertheless, Octavia finished getting ready and headed downstairs, navigating the familiar hallways of the palace. Servants bowed respectfully as she passed, so routine of them that Octavia barely noticed it. The palace seemed different this morning, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly how. The portraits of her ancestors looked the same, the ornate vases unchanged. Perhaps it was just her mood or the lingering effects of her forgotten dreams.
Eventually, she arrived at the dining room to find both her parents already seated, her father at the head of the table and her mother to his right, both dressed despite the early hour. What struck Octavia as odd was their body language. They sat close together, with Stolas leaning slightly toward Stella as they conversed in low, amicable tones. Stella was smiling , relaxed.
"There's my little starfire!" Stolas beamed as he noticed her, setting aside a letter he'd been reading. "Did you sleep well?"
"Um, yes?" Octavia replied automatically, though it wasn't entirely true. She took her usual seat, watching as a servant immediately appeared to pour her favorite tea and place a selection of breakfast "mouses" before her.
"You look a bit tired, darling," Stella observed, genuinely concerned rather than critical. "Were you up late again?"
"Something like that..." Octavia said, still trying to place why her parents' interaction felt so strange. Had they always been this... affectionate with each other? She had vague recollections of arguments to open hostility...but that couldn't be right. Her parents had always been a model royal couple.
Hadn't they?
"I was just telling your mother about the Azathoth's tears happening next week," Stolas said enthusiastically. "I thought perhaps we could make a family event out of it? The three of us could take the royal observatory and have a midnight picnic while we watch."
"That sounds wonderful, dear!" Stella agreed, placing her hand over Stolas' on the table. "It's been too long since we've done something together as a family."
Octavia stared at their joined hands, a creeping sense of wrongness intensifying in her mind. Her mother never called her father "dear" with such genuine warmth. And Stella hated astronomy. She considered it beneath her station to spend hours gazing at stars when there were social galas to attend.
"Are you feeling alright?" Octavia asked before she could stop herself.
"Of course, starfire. Why do you ask?" Stolas replied as both Octavia's parents turned to her with mild surprise.
"You both seem..." Octavia struggled to find the right words. "Different."
Stella laughed lightly. "Different how, darling? We're the same as we've always been."
...
Were they?
"You never get along this well..." She said finally, the words escaping before she could consider them.
Octavia couldn't shake the feeling that something had been wrong, and she was only now noticing it as a strange silence fell over the table. For just a moment, so brief she might have imagined it, both her parents froze, like actors who'd forgotten their lines. Then Stolas chuckled, the sound just slightly off-key.
"What a strange thing to say. Your mother and I have always been devoted to each other."
"Oh, absolutely!" Stella agreed, her smile not quite reaching her eyes now. "We've had our disagreements, of course, as all couples do, but we've always worked through them."
Octavia felt a chill run down her spine. Something in their delivery felt rehearsed, artificial to some extent. She took a sip of her tea to hide her growing discomfort, only to find that it tasted... wrong. Not bad, just not like her usual blend, though it looked identical.
"By the way!" Stella continued as if the awkward moment had never happened. "Duke Focalor called yesterday. He was hoping you might join her daughter for some games this afternoon."
"Focalor?" The name hit Octavia like a physical blow as she repeated it, memories suddenly flashing through her mind. Wasn't he…someone's father?
"Yes, dear," Stella confirmed, watching her with an intensity that hadn't been there before. "His daughter has been a friend of yours for years. Are you feeling alright?"
"Friends..." Octavia echoed, testing the concept. The word felt weird in her mouth. She had a sudden imagination of herself standing beside a female white owl demon in a dress. She smiled at Octavia with so much affection and love that it felt...very close to Octavia.
...
"Olivia!" Octavia slightly exclaimed, although she didn't understand why she did that.
The atmosphere in the room seemed to drop several degrees as both her parents went perfectly still.
"Who's Olivia, darling?" Stella asked, her voice carefully neutral.
"I..." Octavia frowned, trying to grasp the memory that danced just beyond her reach. "I don't know. Someone I met, I think. In...Lemegeton...or Phenex's castle?"
"Lemegeton? What an imagination you have, starlight. You've rarely been to Lemegeton." Stolas set down his teacup with deliberate care.
"Haven't I?" Octavia wasn't sure why she was pushing the issue, but something compelled her to continue. "I also remember... someone called Amy. And the I.R.A."
...
Oh, no.
The silence that followed was absolute. Not just quiet. No servants moved, no distant palace sounds, not even the clink of silverware. For several heartbeats, her parents remained frozen, locked in pleasant smiles that no longer reached their eyes. Octavia's gaze darted between her parents. The wrongness of everything crashed over her in waves. Now Octavia remembered it fully...she was betrayed by Amy.
"This isn't right..." Octavia whispered, her voice sounding oddly muffled in the soundless room. She pushed her chair back slightly, the scrape against the floor making no noise at all. "None of this is right."
"What's not right, darling?" Stella asked, her voice lilting with concern that now felt calculated. "You seem distressed."
"Perhaps you're coming down with something, starlight. You don't seem like yourself today." Stolas leaned forward, brows furrowed above his glowing red eyes.
"I don't seem myself?!" Octavia repeated incredulously, gripping the edge of the table. "You're both acting not like your usual selves!" She pushed her chair back further, half-rising. "Dad, you and Mom haven't been this cordial in years! And you, Mom! You tried to murder my dad! "
Even as she recovered her memory, Octavia felt dizzy, reality itself seeming to warp and shift around her. The walls of the dining room appeared to breathe for a moment, expanding and contracting ever so slightly before settling back to normal. She rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was losing her mind.
"I need some air!" she murmured, stepping away from the table.
Before she could make one step, the ornate double doors to the dining room swung open with a dramFatic flourish. A tall, elegant demon strode in, dressed in immaculate royal attire that complemented House Goetia's colors. His features were sharp and aristocratic, his eyes showed a self-assured arrogance, and a crown of a prince adorned his head.
"Good morning, family!" Gaap announced grandly, spreading his arms wide. "Apologies for my delay. Diplomatic calls with the Ars Goetia Electorate ran longer than expected."
Octavia froze, staring at him in mounting horror. Gaap, who had openly mocked her, whose very presence made her skin crawl, was acting as if he belonged here. But that was just the tip of the horror. As soon as Gaap's eyes landed on her, his smile widened to reveal gleaming teeth.
"And there's my beautiful bride! Come give your husband a hug, my dark flower."
The words hit Octavia like physical blows. Bride? HUSBAND? Acid rose in her throat as Gaap approached her with outstretched arms.
"What the fuck ?!" She hissed, stumbling backward. "Don't you dare touch me!"
"Such language so early in the morning? Have I offended you somehow, my love?" Gaap halted, his expression flickering with confusion.
"'My love'?" Octavia repeated, her voice rising with hysteria. "We hate each other! You've tried to have my father killed on the second trial!"
"Now, now," Gaap interjected smoothly, advancing toward her again. "I understand, darling. The stress of your new responsibilities as my consort must be overwhelming. Perhaps we should retire to our chambers where I can help you... relax." He reached for her hand, his fingers elongated and claw-like.
Something in his tone, in the hungry lustfulness of his eyes, sent pure terror coursing through Octavia's body. This wasn't just wrong... It was perverse, a corruption of reality itself.
NONE OF IT IS REAL!
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Octavia screamed, slapping his hand away with enough force to make him step back. "This isn't real! None of this is real! He is NOT my husband!"
Octavia could feel panic rising, choking her. The room itself seemed to pulse around her, the walls breathing more noticeably now. The portraits on the walls of generations of Goetia ancestors, all turned their heads slightly to watch her.
"Via, I-" Stolas tried to reach for her, comforting her in her dire time.
Octavia didn't wait to see what Gaap or Stolas would do next. With a strangled cry of terror, she turned and bolted for the door, throwing it open with such force that it crashed against the wall. She heard her name called behind her but she didn't look back.
♪ If I could turn the page ♪
♪ In time then I'd rearrange ♪
♪ Just a day or two ♪
...
♪ Close my, close my, close my eyes ♪
She raced through the corridors of what she had believed was her home, her boots clicking on the polished marble floors as she took corners at dangerous speeds. The palace seemed to stretch and distort around her. It felt like hallways extending impossibly long one moment, then compressing to half their normal length the next. Portraits and decorations blurred as she passed, occasionally shifting position when seen from the corner of her eye.
"This isn't real!" She gasped to herself as she ran, the words becoming a desperate mantra. "This isn't real! This isn't real! "
Octavia's heartbeat thundered in her ears as she sprinted through the increasingly surreal corridors of what she'd always known as home. The walls pulsed like living tissue, ornate wallpaper patterns writhing and shifting when she wasn't looking directly at them. Portraits of her ancestors seemed to track her movements, their painted eyes blinking when she glanced away.
"My mistress!" called a servant's voice, distorted and echoing as if coming through water. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
She didn't stop to answer as she rounded another corner. The architecture made less sense with each turn...doorways appearing where none had been before, staircases spiraling in impossible directions, and windows showing different hellscapes depending on the angle from which she viewed them.
♪ But I couldn't find a way ♪
♪ So I'll settle for one day ♪
♪ To believe in you ♪
...
♪ Tell me, tell me, tell me lies. ♪
Ahead loomed a set of massive, ornate doors she didn't recognize. Something about them called to her, promising escape or at least answers. Without hesitation, Octavia threw her weight against them.
The doors swung open with unexpected ease, sending her stumbling into a vast chamber that hadn't existed in the palace before. A grand ballroom stretched before her, its ceiling vaulting impossibly high, chandeliers casting prismatic light across the gathered crowd. Octavia froze, her breath catching in her throat.
In the center of the room stood Olivia, her Lady-In-Waiting, but this wasn't the Olivia she knew. This Olivia wore an elegant black gown, a microphone clutched in her talons as she swayed before an audience of...Octavias. Dozens of them. Each one a perfect replica of herself, dressed in varying outfits from her wardrobe, all watching Olivia with identical expressions of naive joy. The lady-in-waiting's normally subdued voice filled the chamber with as she sang the song:
♪ Tell me lies ♪
♪ Tell me sweet little lies ♪
♪ (Tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies) ♪
♪ Oh, no, no, you can't disguise ♪
♪ (You can't disguise, no, you can't disguise) ♪
♪ Tell me lies ♪
♪ Tell me sweet little lies ♪
The crowd of doppelgangers swayed in perfect unison, occasionally mouthing along to the lyrics. None of them noticed the real Octavia standing frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with horror.
"What the fuck?!" Octavia whispered, unable to process the surreal tableau before her. "What kind of bullshit metaphor is this!?"
As if sensing her presence, Olivia's head snapped toward her, neck rotating too far to be natural. The music continued without interruption. One by one, the Octavia clones turned to face her as well, their movements synchronized yet jerky, like marionettes controlled by an unskilled puppeteer. Their expressions remained blank, eyes hollow.
"Join us," One of Octavia spoke in unison, their voices overlapping in a discordant chorus. "It's easier this way."
"What?" Octavia blinked at that.
"She means to join their crowd of ignorance..." A deep, grim voice came from the right.
"And who the fuck are yo-aaaah..."
And it turns out, just to the right of the real Octavia, stands a rather tall and slightly aged Goetia, sharing some resemblances with Stolas and Octavia herself. He held a plastic cup, although his hand had slightly shaken for some reason.
"Don't talk to your Great-Grandfather like that when you're losing your mind, Octavia." That Goetia grumbled, trying to bring the cup to his beak, only for some of the water to be spilled on his clothing due to the violent shake of his hand.
"Wait...King Octavian?" Octavia realized it before opting to see the reason. "I‘ve only seen you in portraits. What the fuck are you doing here?!"
"I'm your Mood Kindred... *sips* that's why." Octavian sighed, followed by him looking in one direction and just shrugging his shoulders. "Looks you're experience a drug induced hallucinations, kiddo. Can't say I'm surprised by this...I mean you and I went trough all the shit, questioning why everything exists and what's the point of all of this..."
"Okay?" Octavia wasn't sure what her long-deceased Great-Grandfather's point was...and speaking of which. "Wait, you're dead, though. How I'm talking with you right now?"
"You don't for I'm your weird imagination in order to cope with reality." King Octavian sips more before looking at the cloak. "Well, my time's up; time for me to die."
And he just...dropped dead, quite literally. Octavia screamed in horror and didn't wait to see what would happen next in this trip adventure of hers. She backed away, turned, and bolted down the nearest corridor, the soft chorus of the song following her like a malevolent whisper.
♪ Although I'm not making plans ♪
♪ I hope that you understand ♪
♪ There's a reason why ♪
...
♪ Close your, close your, close your eyes ♪
This new hallway shifted and twisted as she ran, the floor occasionally rippling beneath her feet like water. Doors lined both sides, each one different. Some were ornate, some simple, and some made of materials she couldn't identify. One door pulsed with a sickly green light around its edges, and another seemed to be breathing, its wooden surface rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
♪ No more broken hearts ♪
♪ We're better off apart ♪
♪ Let's give it a try ♪
...
♪ Tell me, tell me, tell me lies ♪
Desperate for escape, Octavia grabbed the handle of a perfectly ordinary-looking door-heavy oak with brass fittings, nothing to suggest the horror that might wait beyond. She wrenched it open and hurled herself through. The stench hit her first. Copper and rot, so intense she gagged. When her vision cleared, she found herself in what appeared to be the Goetia council chamber but transformed into something from a nightmare.
Around the massive obsidian table sat the Electorate of Ars Goetia. Elector-Duke Astaroth, Elector-Prince Vassago, Elector-Marquise Phenex, and President-Elector Marbas all were present in their demonic glory...but what froze her blood was the feast before them.
Sprawled across the table like a macabre centerpiece was the broken body of an imp...his red skin unmistakable even in his mangled state. Blitzo, her father's... employee? Friend? She couldn't quite remember how she knew him, but recognition was instant and horrifying.
The Electorate tore into him with elegance, using silver cutlery to carve precise portions. Some used their claws or beaks, ripping flesh with aristocratic restraint despite their obvious hunger. Their fine clothes remained spotless despite the gore, not a drop staining their immaculate attire.
Phenex noticed her first. She delicately wiped her beak with a monogrammed napkin before addressing her.
"♪ Ah, my dearest Octavia! Just in time for the main course. Join us. There's plenty for everyone, and the lower classes exist to sustain us, after all. Hmm, yes. ♪"
The other nobles turned toward her with terrible smiles, revealing bloodstained teeth. Some held out portions on silver forks, offering her a taste.
"The poor are so tender..." whispered Astaroth, his unicorn-like head lowering to meet her gaze. "Their struggles season the meat."
Octavia backed away, bile rising in her throat. The scene before her was more than just grotesque...it was a perversion of everything she'd ever questioned about Hell's rigid hierarchy; the casual cruelty of the nobility toward those beneath them was made literal in the most horrific way.
"This isn't right," She choked out. "This isn't-"
"Real?" finished Vassago, chuckling darkly. "Perhaps not. But it's true, mi bonito. This is what we are: a bunch of inbred, elitist hypocrites who are stuck in the past and slowly crumbling into dust and bone."
Octavia's scream died in her throat as she stumbled backward from the grotesque feast. Without another word, she spun on her heel and fled once more into the maze of impossible corridors that had become her prison.
♪ Tell me lies ♪
♪ Tell me sweet little lies ♪
♪ (Tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies) ♪
♪ Oh, no, no, you can't disguise ♪
♪ (You can't disguise, no, you can't disguise) ♪
♪ Tell me lies ♪
♪ Tell me sweet little lies ♪
The hallway stretched endlessly before her, its walls now breathing in rhythm with some unseen heartbeat. Each pulse sent ripples through the ornate wallpaper, the golden patterns writhing like living serpents. Behind her, she could hear the melodious laughter of the Electorate echoing through the twisted architecture, growing more distorted with each reverberation.
"This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't REAL!" She chanted desperately as she ran, her voice cracking with each repetition. But the mantra felt hollow, meaningless against the assault on her senses.
The corridor began to tilt, the floor sloping at impossible angles that defied gravity. Octavia found herself running along what should have been the wall, then the ceiling, her orientation completely lost. Portrait frames hung at odd angles with members of the Goetia family tree all turned to watch her with disappointment and shame.
"Failed us all!" Whispered her great-grandmother's painted lips.
"Disgrace to the bloodline!" Hissed a long-dead great-granduncle.
"Should have accepted your place!" Sighed her grandmother's portrait, the oil paint dripping like tears.
"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!" Octavia pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out their accusations, but their voices seemed to come from inside her skull. She stumbled, catching herself against a door handle. This one shaped like a screaming face, its mouth serving as the grip.
The door swung open without resistance, revealing what appeared to be her father's study. But as she stepped inside, the familiar room began to warp and distort. The towering bookshelves stretched impossibly high, their tops disappearing into darkness. The books themselves were writhing masses of flesh and feathers, occasionally opening to reveal rows of tiny, blinking eyes.
At the massive desk sat a figure hunched over paperwork. For a moment, Octavia's heart leaped with hope. Perhaps it was her real father...or perhaps an escape from this madness. But as the figure looked up, she saw it was Paimon.
"Oh, hey uhh....Natasha, right? Why do you reject the beautiful cage we've built for you?"
"FUCK OFF!" Octavia just slammed the door shut and continued her desperate flight.
♪ If I could turn the page ♪
♪ In time then I'd rearrange ♪
♪ Just a day or two ♪
...
♪ Close my, close my, close my eyes ♪
The next corridor was lined with mirrors, each one reflecting a different version of herself. In one, she wore Gaap's ring, and a wedding dress stained with blood. In another, she knelt before the Goetia Electorate, her head bowed in submission. A third showed her with dead, hollow eyes, mechanically going through the motions of royal duties while something else puppeteered her movements.
"Hey, girl." The reflections spoke in unison. "Choose your preferred hell."
"I choose NONE OF IT!" Octavia screamed, punching the nearest mirror. It shattered with a sound like breaking bones, but instead of glass shards, black feathers scattered to the ground, each one whispering her name as it fell. The whispers grew louder. Her name was repeated endlessly in voices she almost recognized. Olivia's voice was among them, calling out warnings she couldn't quite understand.
♪ But I couldn't find a way ♪
♪ So I'll settle for one day ♪
♪ To believe in you ♪
...
♪ Tell me, tell me, tell me lies ♪
Wanting none of that, desperation drove her forward to another door, this one simple and wooden, almost mundane compared to the horrors she'd encountered. She grasped the handle with trembling talons and yanked it open, expecting another nightmare room. Instead, she found herself stepping into nothingness.
The door had opened onto the vast crimson sky of Hell itself, the ground far, far below. The Pride Ring stretched out beneath her in all its chaotic glory-the sprawling pentagram of Pentagram City, the distant mountains, the perpetual red sky that had been the backdrop of her entire existence.
For a split second, Octavia hung suspended in the doorframe, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing down bellow. But it was too late to stop her momentum. Too late to catch herself.
Too late to do anything but fall.
"DAAAAAAAAAAD!" Her scream was torn away by the rushing wind as she plummeted from what must have been an impossible height. The palace, or whatever twisted version of it she'd been trapped in, was nowhere to be seen above her. There was only the endless expanse of Hell's sky and the rapidly approaching ground.
♪ Tell me lies ♪
"What do you want from existence, Octavia?"
"I... I want to never be alone. All my existence, I've feared loneliness more than anything else. The empty rooms, the silent halls, the feeling that no one truly sees me beneath this crown."
♪ Tell me sweet little lies ♪
"You've always chosen solitude. Pushing others away, building walls, hiding behind sarcasm and indifference."
"Because it's safer...better to choose the isolation than have it chosen for you. Better to be alone by choice than abandoned by circumstance."
♪ (Tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies) ♪
"You fear loneliness the way others fear death. Sometimes you've wondered if... if there was an easier way out. If stopping the pain might be simpler than enduring it. But you never took it. Somehow, you always managed. Even when the palace felt like a mausoleum, even when father was too wrapped up in his own drama, even when mother made it clear you were more burden than blessing... you endured."
"I survived...didn't I?"
♪ Oh, no, no, you can't disguise ♪
♪ (You can't disguise, no, you can't disguise) ♪
♪ Tell me lies ♪
♪ Tell me sweet little lies ♪
"You did more than survive. You chose to keep going, day after day, even when going felt impossible. That's who you are, Octavia Goetia: an Survivor. You will endure the pain no matter what."
"Until your dying breath, you shall endure..."
The city below grew larger and more detailed with terrifying speed. She could make out individual buildings now, the streets like arteries pumping with the movement of Hell's denizens. This was it. This was how the nightmare would end. Not with revelation or rescue, but with the brutal physics of gravity and stone. Octavia closed her eyes and waited for the impact that would either wake her up or end everything forever.
THUD
Pain exploded through her body as she crashed down onto something soft yet firm. Her eyes snapped open, expecting to see the broken streets of Hell, but instead she found herself staring up at the familiar constellation patterns painted on her bedroom ceiling. The same black and purple décor surrounded her, the same posters of obscure metal bands adorning the walls, the same heavy curtains filtering the morning light.
She was back at her room. Again.
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" Octavia roared, her voice cracking with frustration and exhaustion. She slammed her fist down on the mattress with such force that the bed frame groaned in protest. "What kind of sick, twisted bullshit is this?!"
She sat up, running her talons through her disheveled feathers, trying to ground herself in the familiar sensation. But everything felt different now. Her bedsheets were not the same, and even the quality of light streaming through the curtains seemed somehow artificial, like a stage set approximating reality rather than reality itself.
"This is insane!" She muttered, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. "I'm going insane. That must be it. I've finally cracked, and this is what madness feels like."
But even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren't entirely true. There was something else at work here, something deliberate...
...
"YAY, I WON AGAIN!"
As she sat there, trying to collect herself and figure out what was real anymore, she heard voices drifting through her bedroom door. They were muffled, distant, but strangely familiar. Not the voices of her parents or the palace servants, but something else. Something that made her feathers stand on end with hope and dread.
"Is that...no way?" Octavia's heart pounded as she got closer to the door. It opened not onto the familiar palace corridor she expected, but into what appeared to be a living room. Though not one she recognized.
The space was warm and comfortable. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes she'd read at different points in her life. A fireplace crackled softly in one corner, casting dancing shadows across the room. But what made her breath catch were the three figures occupying the space.
In the center of the room, a small child...of herself. This was literally an Octavia, perhaps six or seven years old, who hopped through a chalk-drawn hopscotch court as she sang a simple tune in her high, innocent voice:
"One-two, skip and hop! Three-four, never stop! five-six, pick up sticks, chicks! Seven-eight, don't be late! I WON YET AGAIN! YAY!" Little Octavia clapped in joy for winning that game against her...imaginary friend.
Ironically, that did...make Real Octavia smile. Her tiny self's feathers were still downy and soft, her eyes bright with the kind of wonder that hadn't yet been tempered by disappointment and anxiety...this Octavia was too...precious for this Hell.
"Yes, Octavia. You win yet again...for the 165,125th time." Sighted another one. On a worn leather couch sat Teenage Octavia, seventeen, lanky, and awkward in the way of adolescents still growing. Her fingers moved slowly across the strings of an acoustic guitar, producing haunting, melancholic notes. The melody was original and sorrowful, the kind of music one played when words weren't enough to express the weight of growing up in a world that felt increasingly hostile and confusing. It was that same song she performed...on that fateful day .
And in the far corner, separated from the other two by both distance and demeanor, sat a version of herself she'd never seen before...Octavia in her... forties? She held a lit cigar between her talons, the smoke curling lazily upward as she stared out a window that showed nothing but darkness. She seemed utterly disconnected from her younger selves, as if existing in an entirely different emotional state.
None of the three seemed to notice the current Octavia standing in the doorway, each lost in their own version of coping with existence. The Real Octavia opened her beak to speak, but no words came. How could she possibly describe what she was seeing? Before everything, that was batshit insane. This? This one is something more...closer to her. The words simply didn't exist for this level of psychological metaphor.
Instead, she took a tentative step into the room, then another, drawn by fascination and horror too. The floorboards creaked softly under her weight, but only Teenage Octavia seemed to register the sound.
"What took you so long?" The seventeen-year-old Octavia spoke in a voice thick with familiar sarcasm, without looking up from her guitar. Her fingers continued their slow, melancholic progression across the strings, the melody never faltering.
"What did you just say?" Real Octavia managed to croak out, her voice hoarse from all the screaming she'd done during her nightmarish journey.
Teenage Octavia finally raised her eyes, fixing her older self with a look of exaggerated tiredness. She rolled her eyes, the gesture so perfectly capturing that particular brand of adolescent disdain that it was almost painful to witness from real Octavia.
"What, did you get amnesia or something? I asked what took you so long to get yourself to your own echo chamber, you proud owner of bachelor's degree in Astrology and Magical Theories." She struck a particularly discordant chord, as if emphasizing her annoyance.
Real Octavia blinked two or three times before she released a long, agonized sigh. She felt a familiar surge of irritation...even her own teenage self was being difficult.
"Okay, less of the bullshit and more straight answers. What in the void is going on here?"
"You're slow when you're panicked, shit-for-brains." Teenage Octavia's smirk widened, her fingers striking another melancholic chord. She played a few more notes before she tilted her head with that typical Octavia manner. "According to your... well, our mind. This is the deepest part of it. You know, the place you retreat to when reality gets too fucked up to handle. Congratulations, by the way. You managed to somehow recede so far into your own psyche that you found the one place where you can feel safe, peaceful, and away from all the royal bullshit, family drama, and suicidal thoughts."
"It's true! Look!" Child Octavia suddenly piped up, pausing mid-hop to beam at them with radiant innocence. She gestured enthusiastically at the hopscotch squares. "This place is full of magic and wonders and fun! Everything here is exactly how we want it to be! No meanies, no scary things, no one telling us what we have to do!"
The child's joy was infectious and heartbreaking at the same time...the pure delight of someone who still believed the world could be kind if you just found the right hiding place...Octavia was so different when she was young.
"Safe, perhaps. But still alone." The forty-something Octavia finally stirred at the window, taking a long drag from her cigar before speaking in a voice weathered by years of disappointment.
"Yeah, I wonder why, you fucking bitch!" Teenage Octavia seethed at forty-something Octavia. But the Eldest just...ignored her teenage one.
"Okay..." Real Octavia just...gave up trying to understand her insanity at this point. Instead, she presumed with her feeling. "So, I guess. You're all my...psyches?"
A low, rich chuckle emanated from the corner where the oldest version of herself sat. It was a laugh that spoke of having seen enough absurdities to find humor even in these moments.
"'Psyches'? Look at you, Octavia." Older Octavia repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth like a fine wine before taking another deliberate drag from her cigar. "You always were rather adorable when you slipped into that analytical way of yours."
The Eldest Octavia shifted in her chair, finally turning her full attention toward her younger self for the first time since Real Octavia had entered the room, revealing the full extent of how the years had shaped her. This wasn't just an older Octavia. This Octavia was refined by time into something altogether more commanding. Her feathers had indeed begun to gray out at the edges, but rather than diminishing her presence, the streaks of gray added a distinguished elegance that made her seem almost regal in a way. She wore what appeared to be a perfectly tailored black smoking jacket. Beneath it, a crisp grey shirt was left deliberately unbuttoned at the collar.
Even for Real Octavia, the older one was rather...impeccable. Spine straight, shoulders back, every line of her body speaking to years of royal training finally internalized rather than rebelled against. The nervous fidgeting that plagued both her younger selves was completely absent.
But it was her eyes that were most...concerning. They held depths that the current Octavia couldn't yet fathom. Layers of experience, disappointment, acceptance, and something that might have been contentment, or at least resignation by time. When she looked at Real Octavia, it was with the patient fondness of someone observing a predictable younger sibling.
"Unholy shit..." Real Octavia felt her beak fall open slightly as the mannerism registered. She won't lie to herself; she didn't expect this. "You're... we're totally Daddy's girl to the end, aren't we? Look at you-you're practically him... we really never do escape being Stolas's daughter, do we?"
"We cannot run from the past, sweetheart..." Older Octavia's face didn't change, but there was a flicker of something...acknowledgment, perhaps? Or maybe just tired acceptance of a truth she'd long ago stopped fighting.
Meanwhile, Teenage Octavia made a sound of disgust and yanked her black beanie down further over her head, as if she could physically block out the conversation, and she hunched her shoulders in the universal teenage posture of 'I refuse to acknowledge this mortifying reality.'
"Ugh, no, shut up, shut UP!" Came her muffled voice from beneath the beanie. "I don't want to hear about how we turn into this! That's literally my worst nightmare! I refuse to accept her as being...me-well us!"
"You won't be, though. You're too stubborn for that." Older Octavia rolled her eyes.
Child Octavia, meanwhile, had stopped her hopscotch game entirely and was now staring up at the older versions with wide, curious eyes, as if trying to puzzle out what they were discussing. Her innocence served as a stark contrast to the complex emotional...conflicts playing out between her older selves.
"Why is everyone so upset?" She asked in that pure, questioning voice that only children possessed. "The pretty lady looks nice. She smells like Daddy. I like that smell."
"'Why is everyone so upset?' she says..." Teenage Octavia repeated in a mocking, high-pitched voice, her words dripping with sarcasm as she finally pulled the beanie back up enough to reveal her eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because EVERYTHING is fucking upsetting right now!"
"Hey, don't be a cloaca to her." Real Octavia took a step back, startled by the venom in her younger self's voice. "Sweet spirit, what's wrong with you? I mean... what's wrong with me?"
"What's WRONG with me?" Teenage Octavia shot to her feet, her guitar falling to the floor with a discordant crash as she began pacing frantically, like a caged animal. "Everything! Fucking everything! I'm wrong! My family's wrong! I can't do anything right, I can't say anything right, and I can't even exist without disappointing someone! I hate how I look, I hate how I sound, and I hate that I'm too tall and too awkward and too fucking weird for anyone to actually want to be around! I hate that Mom and Dad got divorced, and it's somehow MY fault because I wasn't good enough to keep them together!"
Teenager Octavia's voice cracked completely now, balancing between rage and something that sounded dangerously close to tears. Even Real Octavia felt horrified at this sight.... Is this how she really was to her dad?
"And most of all, I hate YOU!" Teenage Octavia whirled around to point an accusatory talon at Real Octavia. "I hate what you've become! You're supposed to be me, but you're just another fucking sellout!"
"What are you even talking about?" Real Octavia demanded, though something cold was settling in her stomach.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Teenage Octavia's voice was raw now, stripped of its sarcasm and leaving only pain. "You gave up! You stopped fighting! You just... accepted it all! The royal bullshit, the whole fucking charade! You became everything I swore I'd never become - another proper little princess playing by the rules!"
The Real Octavia didn't give a response to that. That's something deep inside she knew....she was right.
"For Spirit's sake, look at her!" Teenage Octavia gestured toward Older Octavia, who was watching the scene with quiet, sad eyes. "Look at what we turn into! She's sitting there in her fancy jacket, smoking her expensive cigars, probably running some royal committee or charity bullshit, being the perfect fucking daughter mom always wanted! And you... you just let it happen! You gave up on everything that made us... fucking us!"
Real Octavia felt it...felt it too real. Teenage Octavia hit her with the force of absolute truth. Because wasn't that exactly what she'd done? Wasn't that exactly what she'd been doing her whole life-slowly, inevitably, surrendering piece by piece to the expectations placed on her? She released a long, weary sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul.
"I remember... I remember going inside the dad's personal closet, checking the drawings I did for him... and finding an empty Happy Pills bottle. I cannot describe what I felt about it...anger? disdain? realization? But the first thing...the FIRST THING...that went through my head...was 'He took them because of me. Because I'm such a disappointment, such a burden, that he needs pills just to deal with having me as a daughter."
"I'm a burden to him..." Teenage Octavia lowered her eyes, staring at the floor. Still rather angry...at everything.
"Maybe...maybe you're right about that." Real Octavia admitted quietly with deep exhaustion. "But there's something pretty fucking hypocritical that you seem to be forgetting."
"Like what?" Teenage Octavia's righteous fury flickered for just a moment, uncertainty creeping into her expression.
"In all your...our rage and blame and pointing fingers at everyone. Did you ever, even once, think about how you could actually solve any of these problems? Did you ever consider doing something constructive instead of just wallowing in your own misery?"
Teenage Octavia opened her beak to respond, then closed it again. Her defiant posture began to crumble as she looked away, her talons fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
"I...I don't know, okay? I don't fucking know! Everything's too hard, too complicated, too..." She trailed off, anxiety replacing anger as her primary emotion. "I just... I don't know how to fix anything!"
"EXACTLY!" Real Octavia exploded, all her own pent-up frustration finally finding a target, not to mention how she is getting tired of...herself. "You don't know because you never fucking tried! All you ever did was blame, blame, and BLAME! It was always about YOU! Your pain, your problems, your fucking angst! Everything had to revolve around poor little Octavia and how hard her life was!"
Real Octavia then began pacing now, sharp and aggressive, mirroring her younger self's earlier agitation. It was pain that had been buried for years finally manifested...her suppressed guilt for burning the bridges...and her self-hatred.
"You sat in your room feeling sorry for yourself while Dad was falling apart right in front of us! Did you ever, EVER, stop to think about how much he was suffering? How much did he need us? How much WE were hurting HIM? You want to know why Dad started taking those pills? Why did he need them just to get through the day? It wasn't just because of Mom, you selfish little bitch, it was because of US!"
"W-why-" Child Octavia tried to ask...not understanding why they became so...hostile.
And the Oldest Octavia just remained silent, observing them.
"Of course, it was because of us! He-" Teenage Octavia argued back.
"YES, BECAUSE YOU PUSHED HIM!" Real Octavia quickly intervened to stop Teenage Octavia going full 'It's all dad's fault! '. "Think about it: his daughter hating herself, hating him, and hating everything about their life together was slowly killing him inside! Every time we slammed a door in his face, every time we told him to leave us alone, every time we made it clear that his love wasn't enough, we: we broke him a little more! And what did we do about it? NOTHING! We just kept wallowing, kept blaming, and kept making everything about our own pain while he was drowning right next to us! And instead of talking to him, instead of asking if he was okay, instead of trying to understand what he was going through...what did I do? I burned every bridge I had! I lashed out at everyone who tried to help me! I made everything worse because I was too fucking scared and too fucking selfish to admit that maybe, just maybe, I was part of the problem!"
"HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?!" Teenage Octavia screamed back, breaking with desperate anguish. Even Child Octavia yelped in fear, scared by them arguing. "I was seventeen! I was fucking seventeen, and everything was falling apart, and nobody told me ANYTHING! How was I supposed to know?!"
"BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T THINK!" Real Octavia roared, her face flushed with fury and self-loathing. "You never fucking thought about anyone but yourself! You were so wrapped up in your own misery that you couldn't see past your own beak!"
The screaming match between her past and present selves had reached its peak... when a small, heartbroken voice cut through their fury.
"JUST STOP IT! PLEASE! Why are you being so mean to each other?! Why do you hate each other so much?!" Child Octavia's voice was thick with tears; her innocent question revealed uncomprehending hurt.
The little girl had collapsed to her knees in the middle of her abandoned hopscotch court, tears streaming down her face as she looked between her older selves with the kind of devastation that only children could experience when their safe world suddenly became frightening and hostile.
"I don't understand. I thought this place was supposed to be...that we were supposed to be happy here. Why is everyone so angry and sad?!" She sobbed, her small hands covering her face.
The sound of her crying immediately silenced both arguing versions of Octavia, the sharp crack of guilt hitting them both like a slap to the face. Only Older Octavia acted, kneeling beside the weeping child, softening with a tenderness.
"Shh, little one. It's all right. Everything is going to be alright." She cradled the small Octavia against her chest, one hand stroking her downy feathers with infinite gentleness. Her tone was soothing for Little Octavia, maternal in a way. "This isn't your fault, sweetheart. This isn't something you need to worry about right now. You're too young, too pure for this kind of pain. These are grown-up problems, and you shouldn't have to carry them."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room like a heavy blanket, broken only by Child Octavia's gradually quieting sniffles as she nestled against her older self's protective embrace. Both Real and Teenage Octavia stood frozen, the awkwardness of guilt stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity, until Teenage Octavia finally broke the silence. Her voice was quieter now but no less bitter, stripped of its earlier rage and left with only cold, hard resentment.
"You want to know what I really despise about you?" She said, not looking at Real Octavia directly. Her gaze was fixed on some point beyond the window, her look hollow. "It's not just that you gave up on who we were supposed to be. It's what you became after... after her ." She spat the last word like a curse, her talons clenching into fists at her sides.
"Who?"
"You know who...Charlie and Olivia...these fucking two. Ever since you met Charlie in that godforsaken valley of Ars Belial, our life became a fucking rollercoaster of shit." Teenage Octavia continued, her voice growing sharper with each word. "You witnessed some conspiracy that would have gotten mom and dad killed if Princess Sunshine hadn't stepped in to save the day. And then what did you do? You mindlessly accepted some "task" from your "bosses" to repay gratitude, like some kind of grateful little pet, just to ‘ make it even’ with her.”
Real Octavia felt her blood begin to boil, her own talons digging deep grooves into her palms as she fought to control the rage building inside her chest.
"Without Charlie, I would have put that fucking noose around my neck and ended it all." She seethed; her voice was a barely controlled hiss, each word dripping with venom. "Do you understand that? Do you get how close we came to being nothing but a memory and a fucking obituary?"
Teenage Octavia finally turned to look at her, and for a moment, something flickered in her eyes. Could be surprise, maybe even concern. But it was quickly replaced by that familiar stubborn defiance.
"And so what? What's the point of staying alive if there's just going to be more pain waiting for us? You think things got better? You think life got easier?" She let out a bitter laugh that held no humor whatsoever. "Turns out not because you met Olivia...wait until you see what real heartbreak looks like. Maybe that noose would have been a mercy compared to what's coming."
"Don't you fucking start!" Real Octavia's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, her entire body going rigid with warning. "Don't you dare go down that road. I won't let you insult her. I won't let you talk about the one good thing, the one pure thing I have in my life, like she's just another disappointment waiting to happen."
Despite the warning, the Teenage Octavia pressed on, her beak shifting to something almost pitying, as if she were explaining something obvious to a child.
"Can't you see it? Are you really that blind?" She gestured helplessly, frustration bleeding through her words. "Olivia is using you, just like everyone else has used you before. Just like Mom used you as a pawn in her games with Dad. Just like Uncle Andrealphus used you as leverage for his political schemes. Just like Phenex used you for whatever purpose she had in mind. And now Olivia is doing the same thing! She's using you, manipulating you, making you think you're special to her when really, you're just another tool in whatever game she's playing!"
"SHUT UP!" Real Octavia screamed, her voice cracking with the force of her denial. "You don't know what you're talking about! Without Olivia, I wouldn't... I wouldn't...she made me feel good...like in a good way, I mean! She showed me that I don't have to be just surviving from one miserable day to the next!"
"Oh, you poor, deluded fool," Teenage Octavia rolled her eyes, the gesture so casual and dismissive it was almost more cutting than her words. "You've doomed yourself, and you can't even see it. When you were alone, when you kept everyone at arm's length, you could control your emotions. You could manage the pain." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "But now? Now you've fallen in love, and your hormones are off the fucking charts. You're a ticking time bomb, ready to explode the moment. And mark my words, it will be a moment when Olivia breaks your heart. And she will break it, just like Francesco did to us."
The name hit Real Octavia like a physical blow, and she staggered backward as if she'd been struck. The mention of that second devastating heartbreak brought color rushing to her face and made her hands shake. She stood there, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly, trying to argue with...herself. The logic was brutal, unforgiving, but there was an undeniable thread of truth woven through it that made her stomach clench with dread. Her gaze darted desperately around the room before landing on the figure in the corner.
"Please, tell me she's wrong." She whispered, her voice breaking as she turned toward Older Octavia with naked pleading in her eyes. "Tell me that what I have with Olivia is real, that it's different from all the others. Tell me I'm not just setting myself up for another fall!"
Older Octavia's movements stilled, her hand pausing mid-stroke through Child Octavia's downy feathers. For a long moment, she said nothing, her gaze fixed downward at the small, innocent form curled against her chest.
"You know the answer to that already, sweetheart." Older Octavia said softly, not looking up. "We both know it, don't we? The Ars Goetia... we're a cruel, merciless, and uncaring nobility. Every single one of us. We use, and we're used; we manipulate, and we're manipulated. It's the nature of what we are...and we were born into."
"But Olivia-"
"I know...but Olivia herself told you this, didn't she? That early night when you both were being honest about what you were to each other?" She finally lifted her eyes to meet Real Octavia's desperate gaze, and the older woman's expression was filled with sadness. "She said that neither of you would find proper happiness. Not together, not the way you both want it. She was trying to prepare you for the inevitable."
Child Octavia stirred slightly in her arms, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep, and Older Octavia's voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
"The two of you are doomed to fall apart and go your separate ways. Not because you don't care for each other, but because that's what our Ars Goetia does to anything pure or genuine. It corrupts it, twists it, and turns it into another weapon to be used against us." She stroked the child's feathers once more, infinitely tender. "Love, for Goetias like us, is just another form of suffering we inflict upon ourselves."
The words hit Real Octavia like a sledgehammer to the chest, and she felt something fundamental inside her finally crack and give way. The fight that had been sustaining her through this entire psychological gauntlet suddenly drained out of her like water from a broken vessel.
"No... No, no, no, this isn't... you're all just... you're gaslighting me! My own fucking psyches are gaslighting me!" Real Octavia whispered as tears began to stream down her face. Her voice then rose to a desperate wail as she gestured wildly at the room around her. "This is supposed to be MY mind! MY safe space! And even here, I can't escape the truth that everyone I love is going to leave me! I just want to be happy! Is that too much to ask? I just want someone to love me and stay! I don't want to be alone anymore! I'm so fucking tired of being alone!"
As her cries filled the air, the room itself began to respond. The walls started to crack and crumble, plaster falling in chunks around them. The warm firelight flickered and dimmed, casting everything in shadows. The very foundations of this mental sanctuary were giving way under the weight of her despair. Even Real Octavia felt herself growing weaker with each passing second, her strength ebbing away like sand through an hourglass. She collapsed fully onto the floor, her body feeling impossibly heavy, as if gravity itself had turned against her.
Both Older and Teenage Octavia moved toward her fallen form, their earlier animosity forgotten in the face of their shared self's complete breakdown. Teenage Octavia knelt beside her first, softening with something that almost resembled tenderness.
"I know you think I'm being cruel, but... I'm just trying to protect you. Protect us. I've seen what happens when we let our guard down, when we believe the lies demons tell us. Amy has already shown us today." Teenage Octavia's voice grew quieter, sadder, as she prepared to deliver her final blow. She stood up slowly, looking down at her broken older self with something that might have been pity. "This is goodbye, I guess. Goodbye to the Real Octavia who still believes in fairy tales"
"Go fuck yourself..." Real Octavia hissed in return.
"Buy yourself a vibrator or something; I don't fuck myself." Teenage Octavia responded with sass, shaking her head in disappointment as the Real Octavia began to slowly blink, seeing that it's about to end. To at least make the Real Octavia to...think deeply in the future, she delivered the final words with brutal honesty.
"You lied to yourself once, and you do it again. But you can't lie to yourself forever."
“Have a great fucking life with Olivia, Octavia...for whatever short while it can."
...
...
October 6, 2025, AD ( *Kzzz* Days Before [SUMMUM SECRETUM ]), 9:23 PM.
[HAEC INFORMATIO A PUBLICO USU SECRETA EST. QUAESO, UNITATEM AUCTORISATIONIS OVERWATCH PETE. NOVUS ORDO AETATUM ADVENIET]
The Eye Of Providence - Main Theme
"Ugh, my head."
The first sensation that registered was the throbbing in her skull. A very dull one with a persistent ache that seemed to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat. Octavia's consciousness drifted back to her like fragments of a shattered mirror, nothing but a confusion and disorientation.
Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy as she struggled to open them, the simple act requiring more effort than it should have. When she finally managed to crack them open, the world swam before her in a nauseating blur of indistinct shapes and muted colors. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from her vision, but the dizziness clung to her like a thick, suffocating blanket.
Gradually, the blurred shapes began to resolve into recognizable vision, though what she saw did nothing to ease her growing sense of unease. She was in some kind of square room. It was sterile, windowless, and utterly devoid of any comfort or personality. The walls were a sickly shade of off-white, unmarked and featureless, that made her skin crawl.
There was no furniture to speak of, save for a simple metal table positioned directly in front of her and what appeared to be her own chair.
"What the void...where am I?" Octavia mumbled, her voice coming out as a hoarse rasp that barely resembled her normal tone. Her throat felt raw and dry, as if she'd been screaming for hours. The taste in her mouth was unpleasant, leaving her tongue feeling unresponsive.
She tried to shift her position to get a better look at her surroundings, but something was wrong. Her body felt strangely heavy and uncooperative, as if her limbs were filled with lead. When she attempted to stand, to push herself up from the chair, she discovered with growing alarm that she couldn't move.
Looking down, her heart began to beat faster as she noticed the thick metal restraints encircling her wrist. Similar restraints bound her ankles to the chair's legs, effectively trapping her in place. And not to mention, her armor was gone alongside her weapons, leaving her only with her pink tank top and black jeans with boots.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," She snarled, her voice gaining strength as anger replaced her confusion. She pulled against the restraints, but they held firm. "Come on! Come on!"
Panic began to set in as she thrashed more violently against her bonds, the chair creaking under the force of her movements but showing no signs of breaking or giving way. She twisted her wrists, trying to slip free of the cuffs, but they had been sized too precisely for her limbs.
Seems like "raw strength" won't serve her here...plan B then. She reached for her magic, trying to summon the power that had always been her birthright. She focused on the restraints, visualizing them dissolving or breaking apart under the force of her will. But nothing happened. No surge of energy, no responsive magic, nothing at all.
She tried again, concentrating harder, calling upon every technique her father had taught her, every lesson she'd learned about channeling demonic power. Still nothing. It was as if the magic had been completely severed from her, leaving her feeling hollow and powerless in a way that was almost more terrifying than the physical restraints.
"What did you do to me?" She whispered to the empty room with genuine fear. Without her magic, without her power, she was just... ordinary. Vulnerable. Human, almost, in the most terrifying sense of the word.
"You can struggle all you want, Lady Octavia, you won't be able to perform your magic anytime soon."
And speaking of human...ish.
Octavia's head snapped around nearly 360 degrees (owl demon, after all) so violently to the direction of the voice. There, leaning casually against the wall behind her with his arms crossed, stood Rönne Schaffer, bearing that same infuriating look she remembered, though his eyes revealed rather a different side: a coldness and indifference...
"YOU!" Octavia snarled, her voice exploding from her throat with such venom that it echoed off the sterile walls. "You bastard! Let me go RIGHT NOW!"
"Nope." Rönne responded quite simply, his eyes more focused on the exit than on her.
"WHY YOU-" Octavia tried to throw herself forward against the restraints with renewed fury as she tried to launch herself at him. The chains binding her wrists pulled her back. "I'm going to rip your fucking throat out! When I get out of these chains, I'm going to choke the life out of you with my bare hands! Do you hear me, you genocidal piece of shit?!"
"You're not the first nor last demon who promised that to me, Octavia." Rönne didn't even flinch at her threats. Instead, he pushed himself off the wall with casual indifference and walked around to face her properly. His revolver hung at his hip in a holster, close enough to draw if needed but clearly not considered necessary at the moment. "Besides, even if I wanted, I cannot release you. Orders from above."
"Who?! The I.R.A?!"
Rönne looked at the wall for some reason before looking back at Octavia.
"No, worse than you think, really. Soon you will understand. But In the meantime, you have to be docile for now...." He gestured with a lazy finger toward her neck. "Hence the collar on you."
Octavia's hand instinctively moved to her throat, although she knew she wouldn't be able to reach it. In her drugged haze and panic, she hadn't even noticed it before. The collar felt impossibly heavy against her skin, and now that she was aware of it, she could feel it humming with a subtle but unmistakable divine energy.
"That’s a Heaven-forged suppression collar, you see, " He said conversationally, as if discussing the weather rather than her imprisonment. "Made by Ars Paulina to cut off a demon's magic prowess. You ain't casting so much as a parlor trick while you're wearing it."
"Take it off!" Octavia demanded, her voice hoarse from screaming but still filled with murderous intent. "Take it off right now, you coward! Face me without your tricks!"
"Cute, but your tricks won't work on me, beaky. Why would I go and do a foolish thing like that?" Rönne's quiet laugh was dry and humorless from her attempts. Persistent and stubborn she is, he won’t lie. "I've seen what you can do when you're at full power, Lady Octavia. That little display back at the Hellhound Lair was mighty impressive, I'll give you that. But I didn't survive this long in the extermination business by giving demons a fair fight."
"I can really show you how much more powerful I am unrestrained, buddy!" Octavia hissed.
"I bet you're, but I'm not interested in fighting with you. This is all about having a civilized conversation, and it tend to go smoother when one party isn't trying to turn the other into a pile of ash."
"Civilized?" Octavia spat. "Oh, ho-ho-ho, shit-for-brains! You call kidnapping and chaining someone up civilized? You're nothing but a pawn to terrorists!"
"Terrorist is a strong word." Rönne replied mildly, though something flickered in his face, perhaps the faintest hint of acknowledgment. "And technically speaking, you weren't kidnapped by me. That honor belongs to your dear friend Amy and her revolutionary pals."
"A-Amy?" The mention of Amy's name made Octavia’s struggles against the restraints ceased abruptly, and the fury that had been burning in her eyes flickered and dimmed. Something darker, more painful, took its place.
Her shoulders sagged as the fight seemed to drain out of her all at once. The memories came flooding back unbidden: Amy's stories about her childhood, the shared moments of vulnerability, the way she'd looked at Octavia with what had seemed like genuine friendship. How many times had Amy been completely honest about her hatred for the Goetia? How many red flags had Octavia willfully ignored?
And the worst thing of all...Gaap was right all along. The bitter irony wasn't lost on her. Gaap had been the one to warn her. Unlike Octavia, he'd seen through Amy's facade when Octavia had been too desperate for friends to notice the obvious signs. The smug bastard had been right all along, and that realization stung almost as much as Amy's betrayal itself.
"Amy..." she breathed, the name falling from her lips like a prayer or a curse. When she raised her head again, her eyes had hardened into something cold and dangerous. "Where the fuck is she?"
Her voice dropped to a threatening whisper that seemed to fill the small room with menace despite her restrained position. Rönne studied her for a long moment as he regarded her. Maybe he is trying to read her that way.
"Back in New Limbo, I reckon. Probably celebrating the success of her little operation."
"Was she a traitor from the start? Was everything... was it all a lie?"
Rönne's gaze flickered away from her face, his eyes moving to a specific point on the wall behind her. The gesture was subtle but Octavia caught it. It was a silent request for permission, or perhaps confirmation. He held that look for a long moment before his eyes returned to meet hers.
"Alright, I will tell you the full picture as a sign of no hard feelings." He said simply, softer now, almost gentle in its honesty. "But yes, you're correct, Lady Octavia. More than five years ago, she was already an undercover spy. New Limbo wasn't much more than a small colony built on the ruins of Caldera back then. Just a handful of demon colonists trying to scratch out a living in the aftermath of the last great war. Amy was already there, already making connections with what you might call... Anti-Goetia thinkers."
"I.R.A?" Octavia assumed. She forced herself to remain still, to absorb the full impact of his revelation...even if it hurt her emotions.
"It’s Predecessor, actually. I.R.A is an alliance of rebel cells united by a common goal. Back then, it was just obscure rebel groups that...grow in power as time went." Rönne sighed, rather not wanting to deal with Heaven's dirty dealings. "She didn't start as a major player, mind you. Just another angry demon with a grudge against the nobility. But she was smart, patient, and she had something most revolutionaries lack...genuine charisma. She could make demons believe in her cause, make them think she was fighting for something bigger than just revenge."
"But that's just the tip of iceberg."
Meanwhile, in the adjacent observation room...
The observation chamber was a stark contrast to the sterile interrogation room beyond the one-way mirror. Like the room both Octavia and Rönne were in, it was too empty, having only the table. But at the table sat a figure.
It was none other than Eve, the First Woman of Mankind herself, though at this point she was known by a different title entirely; Agent "Genesis" of the Eye of Providence. She sat with a slight lean, headphones covering her ears as she listened to every word being spoken in the interrogation room. It allowed her to hear not just the words, but the subtle inflections, the pauses, and the barely audible catches in Octavia's voice that revealed the depth of her emotional devastation. Each revelation about Octavia’s profile was meticulously documented and filed away for future analysis and strategic planning.
This is, of course how E.O.P. operated under the simple Direct Order number 41 called "T.E.O.I.S" ( T otal E spionage O n I nfernal Soil). Every living demon was monitored, and every living demon was documented by Heaven. And in turn....the Old Order Was Preserved.
As Rönne continued his explanation of Amy's five-year deception, Eve remained impassive, though her fingers occasionally tightened around the recorder when particularly useful information was revealed. So far, Octavia had proven to be...not what Heaven expected. She was...too simple to understand. Even Ex-Prince Stolas was harder to predict with his intentions. His attempts to assassinate climate change activist was started and gone immediately. What caused him to change his mind is unknown...or Eve doesn't have higher clearance for this. In any way, Eve can't exactly connect the dots if Octavia is part of the whole conspiracy...
The Conspiracy called "Charlie Morningstar."
"Serial Designation J-10X111001." Eve called out suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of machinery with a crisp tone.
The room seemed to shimmer and distort as advanced cloaking technology deactivated. What had appeared to be empty space suddenly materialized into the sleek, imposing drone of a "Disassembly Drone" series: E.O.P. solution to the "Rogue Exorcists" problem for Heaven.
"Cloaking protocols successfully terminated, Agent Genesis! Disassembly Drone Serial Designation J at your service; ready to exceed quarterly expectations and deliver premium results for Providence." J reported, her yellow optics flickered to life as her stealth systems powered down, her head tilted slightly in a gesture that somehow managed to convey both respect and barely contained impatience. "How may this high-performance unit optimize your operational objectives today?"
Eve removed her headphones and set down the recorder, turning to face the robotic operative.
"Bring up her full dossier." Eve commanded with that particular tone of authority that brooked no argument. "I want to review everything we have on Octavia Goetia before I proceed."
"Oh, you're going to love this, Genesis! Our intelligence gathering on the Ars Goetia has been absolutely premium quality work lately!" J's optical sensors brightened with obvious enthusiasm, practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of showcasing the thoroughness of E.O.P.'s surveillance capabilities. Her right hand retracted with a series of mechanical whirs and clicks, the appendage folding back into her forearm to reveal a sophisticated holographic projector. "Initiating full dossier projection... now!"
The space between J and Eve suddenly filled with a blue holographic display, pages upon pages of detailed intelligence files materializing in the air. The projection was so advanced that Eve could actually reach out and manipulate the pages as if they were solid, swiping through the extensive collection with ease.
"Subject: 36th Spirit and Marquise “Vivian” Octavia Goetia, daughter of ex-Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia,"J began in her characteristic corporate monotone; some would mistake her for a sales presentation...if she wasn't a drone. "Age: Twenty Three years old. Classification: High-value intelligence asset with minimal threat assessment. Psychological profile indicates severe emotional vulnerability stemming from familial dysfunction and abandonment issues. "
Eve's fingers moved across the holographic interface, swiping to the first set of surveillance photographs. The images were crystal clear, taken directly by "field" operatives on Hell.
The first photo showed a much younger Octavia, perhaps seventeen, standing beside her father at the entrance to Loo Loo Land with another "Under the surveillance" marked group by E.O.P: The Immediate Murder Professionals. Even in the static image, Octavia's discomfort was palpable. Shoulders hunched, arms crossed defensively, and always caught between embarrassment and resignation. So, J is correct. Octavia is an epitome of daddy issues.
"Initial surveillance began six years ago during what our field agents designated as 'Operation Family Outing,'" J continued with disturbing cheerfulness. "Subject displayed classic symptoms of teenage rebellion combined with a desperate need for parental approval. Note the body language analysis in sub-file 3-A."
“Hmm” Eve didn’t listen to J’s explanations as she focused on what was written. She swiped to the next series of images, this one capturing Octavia during her escapade in Los Angeles, State of California, United States of America. She personally remembered that case, with some of "Overwatch" deep echelon opting to commence "termination" protocol on Octavia if she tried to cause havoc. But in the end, the teenager returned back to Hell as soon as Stolas stepped in.
"Subject's magical abilities manifested early and powerfully: Hellfire manipulation, advanced teleportation, and what appears to be inherited stellar magic from the Goetia bloodline. However, emotional instability often interfered with her potential. A weakness our tactical analysis department flagged as exploitable."
The images continued in chronological order, each one a violation of privacy. There was Octavia arguing with her father outside the Goetia mansion, her face twisted with adolescent fury.
Another showed her alone in her room, completely focused on her phone. The next series of images showed the confrontation with Marquis Andrephalus. Octavia's raw power was on full display, stellar magic and hellfire combining in ways that would have been impressive if they weren't being used against Heaven's interests.
"And here we have the subject's most recent display of magical capability. The incident with Marquis Andrephalus demonstrates both her combat potential and, more importantly for our purposes, her protective instincts regarding her father."
"In other words, she intervened not for personal gain or political advantage as to humiliate her uncle." Eve observed, studying the image and assessing Octavia’s pattern of behavior. "But purely out of filial loyalty."
"Exactly!" J practically sang with delight. "Subject's primary motivation is maintaining connection with her father figure, even at significant personal cost...although emotional states prevent her from acting...logically."
"Seventeen-year-old girl...not surprising at the time. Daddy issues are the bane of all humanity." Eve mused, her studying the restrained demon with something that might have been pity in anyone else. "Caught between childhood and adulthood, between loyalty and rebellion, between her father's world and her own desires for independence. So, a walking bomb of daddy issues..."
"Oh yes, the parental conflict has been absolutely delicious for our intelligence gathering!" J replied with the kind of enthusiasm typically reserved for discussing quarterly profit margins. "Classic codependent behavior patterns, as Overwatch marked. Makes her exceptionally susceptible to manipulation by authority figures or anyone offering the stability she craves."
"And that's how we got her here." Eve murmured rather to herself as she continued swiping once again, the images becoming more recent. Here was Octavia at Valley of That Tyrant, sitting solemnly in front of the entrance of her bloodline tomb. That's where their "field operative" managed to take a picture just in time for Charlie Morningstar to be there as well.
"Hmm...any assumption that Octavia got rid of Heir of Inferno on that train ambush?"
"Nope." J replied, bored a bit from projecting.
"Not even a zero percent chance?" Eve asked just to be sure. She herself knew it was impossible. But this is something that was needed for E.O.P. Surveillance and Analysis is what they handle most of the time.
"Oh, please. Her threat level to Princess Charlie is practically nonexistent!” Even J rolled her artificial eyes at that. “And honestly, Genesis, like you said: this one's psychological profile reads like a textbook case of 'Daddy Issues: The Deluxe Edition.' Emotional instability metrics are off the charts, dependency parameters are critically high, and her manipulation vulnerability index is... well, let's just say even our old models could handle this workload..." She gestured dismissively toward Octavia. "Overwatch recommendation: Subject presents optimal conditions for intelligence extraction with minimal resource expenditure. A real win-win for our quarterly performance goals."
Eve remained silent in response, but her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the holographic interface as she swiped to what appeared to be the final set of images. That one was just unconscious, Octavia, taken by Eve herself. Good thing Overwatch works rather quickly.
With everything she had, it was time to close the dossier. Octavia Goetia is too much "disconnected" from the whole deep conspiracy in Inferno, leaving her to be put under Class Z, Z for Zero. It refers to that type of demon who has no intention, nor knowledge, nor anything that Heaven might label as a "threat" to its existence. But that's where a new option opens for them.
Order 19: C.A.C.U ( C ollaboration A nd C ompliance U phold).
"Thank you, J." Eve closed the holographic dossier with a gesture, the pages dissolving back into quantum static as J's projector retracted.
"You got it, boss." J gave a wink before crossing her arms. "Want me to break her piece by piece?"
"That won't be necessary." Eve murmured, observing Octavia with Rönne. Through the one-way mirror, Octavia could be seen still struggling with Rönne's revelations about Amy's betrayal, her shoulders shaking with what might have been grief or rage. "I believe that some... psychological necessity would suffice enough for her to crack."
"Oh, absolutely !" J chirped with disturbing cheerfulness. "Maybe a little bit of psychological pressure, maybe some veiled threats about daddy dearest getting hurt if she doesn't cooperate. Trust me, Genesis, I've dealt with plenty of these types before. The ones with authority figure complexes are always the easiest to crack. You just have to know which buttons to push, and how hard to push them. Give me ten minutes alone with her, and I guarantee she'll be singing whatever tune you want to hear. These emotionally damaged types always break so beautifully when you threaten the things they're desperate to protect."
"Patience, Serial Designation J. We need her functional, not broken. At least... not until she gives us a reason to be hostile to her." Eve said softly as she rose from her seat. Her tone was deceptively calm as she moved toward the door leading to the interrogation room. "Reactivate cloaking protocols. You are to follow my lead and observe. If Lady Octavia attempts anything... unwise, you have my explicit authorization to terminate the threat immediately. Right now, pull up a request on Overwatch’s mainframe for ‘fake evidence generation’ for now.”
"Oh, I do love explicit authorization!" J chirped with disturbing enthusiasm; her form already beginning to shimmer and distort as her advanced stealth technology engaged once more. "Don't worry, Genesis. If that organic birdie tries to fly the coop, I'll clip her wings permanently. Guaranteed results with minimal cleanup required!"
Within seconds, J had vanished completely from view, her presence detectable only by the faint electronic hum of her cloaking systems and the occasional displacement of air that suggested movement. Eve waited a moment longer, allowing J to position herself optimally, before opening the door that would take her face-to-face with their prize.
Back in the interrogation room, Octavia's world had narrowed to a single point of agonizing realization. The knowledge that Amy had been playing her for five years sat in her chest like a lead weight, crushing her breath and making her feel hollow in ways she'd never experienced before.
Meanwhile, Rönne's own features grew darker as he continued retelling I.R.A. machinations, his hands clasping behind his back as he paced slowly in front of Octavia's chair.
"But that ain't even the worst part of it." he said, his voice taking on a grim finality. "See, they didn't just happen to know about your little train departure with Princess Charlie. She orchestrated the whole damn thing for that ambush."
"What... what do you mean?" Octavia's blood ran cold, her struggles against the restraints ceasing entirely as the implications hit her like a physical blow.
"The timing, the route, the fact that you two just happened to be traveling together when the I.R.A. made their move. None of that was coincidence." Rönne's boots clicked against the sterile floor as he turned to face her directly. "Amy fed them everything."
"So, she set us up..." Octavia whispered, her voice barely audible in the small room. "Both of us. She set us both up."
"Like lambs to the slaughter, as we used to say in Texas..." Rönne confirmed grimly. "The I.R.A. wanted both you and Princess Charlie for different reasons. You, they figured, could be leveraged against your father and the Goetia. Charlie...well, she got her own special value to certain...interested parties."
"But why? What could they possibly gain from-"
"To capture one last bastion of Ars Colonia's control in Ring of Limbo. Amy and I.R.A had themselves a real elegant plan."
"What plan?"
"First is to capture the two most valuable hostages in Hell-a Goetia princess and Lucifer's own daughter. Second is to use that distraction to cut the head off the snake. While everyone's attention was focused on rescuing you two, Amy would have moved against New Limbo's leadership: Duke Barbatos and Duke Focalor. Take them out quick and clean, and suddenly you've got a power vacuum that the I.R.A. could fill with minimal resistance."
"She was planning to murder them?" Octavia's eyes widened with horror...the last thing she really wanted was for Olivia to lose her dad.
"Yes. By now, if everything went according to schedule, both Dukes are likely dead, and New Limbo is flying revolutionary colors." Rönne's voice showed no satisfaction at this revelation, only a weary kind of professional assessment. "Amy called it 'cutting off the Hydra's heads'"
No words came from Octavia about this. The scope of Amy's deception was staggering. Not just a personal betrayal, but a carefully orchestrated coup that used Octavia and Charlie as unwitting pawns in a much larger game. Every moment of friendship, every shared confidence, every time Amy had seemed to genuinely care...all of it had been calculated moves on a political chessboard. Amy proved to be much cunning smarter than Octavia.
The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of comprehensive betrayal. Octavia sat slumped in her restraints, not struggling anymore, not raging against her bonds. The fight had gone out of her entirely, replaced by a hollow numbness that was somehow worse than the initial fury had been.
"She never cared about me at all. I was just... useful. So that's it then. I'm just a pawn in someone else's game....Always have been." Octavia said, the words coming out flat and lifeless, revealing how much she felt about it...with everything.
Still...there are still some questions left, especially with the unfortunate acquaintance of hers in Exorcist uniform. He never told her what his whole purpose was. So far, for an Exorcist, he never committed purge at any moment, meaning he works alone away from the chain of command.
"And what about you, my off-worldly friend? What are your goals in all this?"
Her tone had taken on an unnatural calm that somehow seemed more dangerous than her earlier fury. It even caused Rönne's eyebrows to raise slightly at the question, though he remained carefully neutral.
"I'm just doing my job, Lady Octavia."
"So you say, bud." Octavia continued in that same eerily calm tone as she reminded of Gaap’s words before. "Because it so happens that Prince Gaap told me you're planning to assassinate him. That's a pretty bold claim to make about someone, don't you think?"
The change in Rönne's demeanor was immediate. His casual posture vanished entirely, replaced by the rigid alertness of a predator suddenly aware he might be walking into a trap. His hand didn't move toward his weapon, but his weight shifted subtly, ready to react to any threat.
"That's a mighty bold claim to make yourself" he said slowly, taking on a harder edge. "Especially coming from someone who's currently chained to a chair."
Octavia smirked at that, for she had caught the flicker of something in his eyes that told her she'd struck close to the truth. Despite her physical restraints and the power-suppressing collar around her throat, she still had one weapon left:
Her own mind.
"A Goetia noble who literally shat his pants out of fear doesn't lie that easily..." Octavia continued, pressing her advantage onto Exorcist Angel. "Gaap may be a coward and a bastard, but he's not creative enough to make up something that specific when he is scared shitless. So, either he is bullshitting me or he's telling the truth about your intentions...and something tells me it's the latter. "
Rönne's jaw tightened, and for a moment, Octavia thought she saw something like grudging respect flicker across his face.
"That information is classified, Lady Octavia. I don't share my own orders from the top brass with prisoners, no matter how clever they think they are." He paused, seeming to weigh his words carefully before continuing. "And I probably should not tell you this but by explaining Amy's intentions, I was trying to show you that you could trust me and help you understand the scope of what you're caught up in."
Unfortunately for him, that only made it worse. Everything he said hit Octavia like a physical blow, and the fragile calm she'd been maintaining shattered completely.
"TRUST YOU?!" Her voice rose to a near-shriek of rage and desperation. She threw herself against her restraints with renewed fury, the chains binding her wrists pulling taut as she tried to lunge forward. "Trust you?! Are you fucking kidding me right now?!"
"Miss Octavia-"
"NO! Don't you dare try to calm me down and pretend this is about trust when you just admitted you're manipulating me too!" The word exploded from her throat with such violence that it echoed off the sterile walls. Tears of rage and betrayal streamed down her face as she continued her tirade, her voice cracking with the weight of accumulated emotional devastation. "Amy used me! USED ME by pretending to be my friend while she was planning to use me as bait! And now you're sitting there telling me you're trying to get me to trust you while admitting you're following classified orders that probably involve murdering me as well!"
"We-"
"I'm twenty-three years old, Voiddammit!" She interrupted him with her scream, breaking entirely now. Her struggles against the restraints became more violent, more desperate. "I'm twenty-three years old, and everyone-EVERYONE-wants to use me for something! My father uses me to make himself feel better about his shitty situation! My mother used me as a weapon against him! The Electorate with Gaap is using me! Amy used me as a pawn! And now you and whoever the void you work for want to use me for whatever classified bullshit you're planning! For this I have my old saying: bite my feathery ass and fuck off back to Heaven, pigeon!"
Rönne only shook his head at her tantrum. His training in Exorcism kept him restrained.
"I'm so fucking tired of being everyone's tool. I just... I just wanted someone to give a damn about me. Not about what I could do for them, not about who my father is, not about what family I come from. Just... me." She slumped back in the chair, the fight going out of her as suddenly as it had exploded forth. Octavia at least looked like she left all her anger from her. "But I guess that was too much to ask for."
The silence that followed was heavy and oppressive, broken only by the soft sound of Octavia's ragged breathing as she tried to compose herself. Rönne watched her for a long moment before he spoke again in a voice so quiet it was barely above a whisper.
"Olivia seems to care about you."
"Don't you dare bring her into this!" Octavia's head snapped up, her tear-stained face flushing with a anger and something that might have been embarrassment.
"I'm just pointing out-"
"I said don't!" Octavia made it clear the subject was completely off-limits. She turned her face away from him in stubborn defiance. Whatever feelings she had about Olivia she wasn't about to discuss them with her captor.
Rönne let out a long, weary sigh. At times, he himself is getting tired of this nonsense. He misses these days when you could have spoken in full front without that mumbo-jumbo that his superiors demand these days. Since they are not here, he at least might try to do that.
"Look, Lady Octavia." He said, running a hand through his hair as He moved to lean against the wall, his posture less threatening now, more... human somehow. "I understand what you're going through right now. I truly do. And I sympathize with it more than you might think." I understand that right now, you probably want nothing more than to just leave the Ring of Limbo entirely. Pack up, disappear, maybe find some quiet corner of Hell where nobody knows your name or gives a damn about your bloodline. Just be done with all the politics and the scheming and the people trying to use you for their own ends. But here's the hard truth of it, Lady Octavia. You're too valuable to be left alone...I cannot just let you go."
Octavia remained silent, but something in her suggested his words had hit closer to home than she wanted to admit. Rönne's own face hardened again, though this time it seemed directed more at the situation than at her personally. He pushed himself off the wall, his boots clicking against the floor as he took a step closer to her chair.
"On a bright side, my top brass made damn sure you ended up under our supervision instead of in I.R.A. hands, and that's why I'm here. Not to hurt you, not to break you, but to make sure those radical rebels don't kill you outright or..." He paused, his look darkening. "Well, God knows what a bunch of anti-nobility extremists might do to a young Goetia woman if they had free rein."
Even Octavia felt a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
"So while I understand your anger and I genuinely wish things could be different for you. The reality is that you're safer with us than you would be with them. That may not be much comfort right now, but it's the truth."
Octavia didn't respond. She simply stared down at her lap, her shoulders sagging under the weight of everything she'd learned. The fight had gone out of her completely, leaving behind only a hollow exhaustion that seemed to seep into her very bones. She looked like a marionette with cut strings, all the fury and defiance that had sustained her through the interrogation finally depleted.
The silence stretched between them once more as Rönne watched her for a long moment, something shifting in him as he took in her defeated posture. Despite all of that, him staring at a defeated Octavia makes him feel piety...or perhaps guilt. Sighing to himself and preferring that he and she could be open about it, he crouched down slowly and carefully in front of her chair, bringing himself to her eye level.
"Look at me, Lady Octavia."
She didn't move, didn't acknowledge his words. Her gaze remained fixed on her restrained hands, as if the metal cuffs around her wrists were the most fascinating things in the world. Rönne again slowly shook his head, pitying her...and frankly blaming himself a little bit for not...having the best "social skills" when it comes to...calming people down. So, he felt it should be the other way.
Not to talk as Angel to Demon Goetia.
But as person to person.
"Octavia, please look at me." He said again, his tone gentler now.
Rönne hesitated for a moment before reaching out with a careful move of his hand to her face. No response came from her as his clawed fingers touched her chin with surprising gentleness, slowly lifting her face until their eyes met. What he saw there nearly made him flinch. There is no anger, no defiance, but a bone-deep exhaustion and no care at all. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but more than that, they held the look of someone who had simply given up...with everything in her life. Even Rönne recognized those eyes in him... for he himself felt it in his mortal life.
"Look, I know you're smart." He said quietly, none of the professional distance before. He again made a pause, not sure how to properly word it. "And I can see you're charming... beautiful, and so far removed from the rotten core of what the Ars Goetia is. That's why I really wish you will do the right thing in the end. I hope you understand me."
His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped down her cheek, that gesture so unexpectedly tender that it seemed to surprise them both a bit.
"I'm going to make you a promise. No matter what happens in this room or what she asks of you, you will go home. You will see your father and you will see Olivia again. I will personally ensure that you walk out of here safe and sound when this is all over."
"You...promise?" Something shifted in Octavia. Not hope, exactly, but perhaps the faintest spark of curiosity about whether this angel might actually mean what he was saying.
"I promise...an Exorcist's honor." He nodded with a small smile, a rather genuine one. But his voice then dropped even lower, becoming serious. "All I'm asking is that when she arrives, you be honest. Completely, utterly honest. If you do that and you collaborate with her, you'll have not just a safer life, but one of the most powerful "friends" in existence backing you up. Protection that even the Ars Goetia itself wouldn't dare challenge you anymore."
Octavia stared into his eyes, searching for deception, for manipulation, for any sign that this was just another layer of the games everyone seemed to be playing with her life. But what she found there was...weird. For someone who worked for a "Genocidal" group of angels, his eyes held a full honesty.
Still, she had so many questions, especially about who he referred to. But at this point she is just...not sure about anything anymore. Octavia looked tired. So incredibly, utterly tired of all of this. The conspiracies, the lies, the demons who claimed to care about her while using her for their own ends. She didn't have the energy to fight anymore, didn't have the strength to rage against another captor.
"I'm tired..." she whispered. It wasn't really an answer to his request, but it was perhaps the most honest thing she'd said since waking up in this sterile room.
"I know you are." Rönne nodded slowly, understanding her fully.
*Harsh Knock*
Their moment of unexpected gentleness was shattered by a sharp, authoritative knock on the metal door.
"And I'm sorry for what comes next. But this will be over soon...one way or another." The Exorcist straightened to his full height, shifting in an instant from the surprisingly compassionate man who had just been comforting her to the rigid, professional, and detached angel she'd first encountered. "She's ready, Agent!"
The heavy door opened with a hiss, and the woman who entered commanded attention in a way that was both subtle and undeniable. Octavia's eyebrow raised in confusion as she looked between the newcomer and Rönne, trying to understand the sudden shift. Rönne now stood with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
The woman wasn't anything close to resembling Rönne. She was a blonde woman with a ponytail and weird sunglasses covering her eyes. She wore a white jumpsuit with so many weird things on her belt, pouches, and even her holster had a weird...looking pistol. On her own hand, she carried a manila folder marked with text that Octavia could just barely make out: "Providence's Eye Only" in bold, official lettering...and a weird symbol on it.
Something made Octavia feel like she opened a new can of worms.
That woman then approached Octavia, and for a full five seconds, she simply stared at her, her gaze clinical and assessing in a way that made the young demon feel a shiver from it. There was something deeply unsettling about it...like she had seen so many things that at this point there is nothing that can surprise her. Must be an old soul at this point.
"How is she?" The woman asked with a no-nonsense tone to Rönne, not taking her eyes off Octavia.
"Stressed, ma'am, but strong enough to handle it. She's processing the information well, all things considered." Rönne replied, his earlier warmth completely absent now.
"And her behavior?" The woman's head tilted slightly, finally looking away from Octavia to study Rönne's face. "Has she been cooperative?"
"She's behaved quite well, ma'am. Some initial resistance, which was expected, but I have my assurances that she will cooperate with you, Agent." Rönne didn't hesitate, though Octavia caught the briefest flicker in him, perhaps remembering his promise to her just moments before.
"We'll see about that, Lieutenant." The woman's lips curved into what might have been a smile. Fake or real, hard to tell.
Once more she moved closer to Octavia's chair and settled herself at the edge of the metal table directly across from Octavia, with the folder landing on the surface with a soft thud. The woman then deliberately opened the folder in slow motion, making sure that Octavia sees the content even from her restrained position.
And indeed, the young Marquise could see that the folder contained more surveillance photographs. Dozens of them, arranged chronologically and labeled with dates and locations in handwriting. Some she recognized herself at various locations, walking through the gardens of her father's estate or sitting alone in her room. Others were more recent in timeline, including what appeared to be images of her confrontation with Marquis Andrephalus to protect Dad...and of course there were pictures where Octavia was alone in the Valley of Ars Belial just moments before Charlie arrived.
"What the...fuck?" Octavia whispered to herself. To put it mildly, she felt violated by this. Years of her life were documented, catalogued, and filed away by strangers who had been watching her from the shadows. It made her stomach churn with anger.
In the corners of the room, invisible to Octavia, J's visor glowed with satisfaction as she recorded every word, every micro-expression, every subtle shift in body language. The psychological profile in Overwatch's database was updating in real-time, documenting Octavia's responses to various stimuli and filing them away for future use towards Overwatch's mainframe.
Rönne, although he remained silent, felt discomfort at the "Disassembly" Drone's presence. Providence's tool, no less, but quite a deadly one that can exterminate at least 500 Exorcists in a fight. It's something he never wants to fight in his entire soul existence.
"So...Marquise Octavia Goetia, we finally met." The woman said finally, almost maternally, like that somehow managed to be more unsettling than outright hostility would have been. Her fingers traced the edge of one photograph: a candid shot of Octavia laughing at something off-camera, probably taken during one of the rare moments when she'd felt genuinely happy. The image seemed to fascinate the woman. "And I believe it's good timing as well. I'm sure you and I will have...pleasant first impressions."
She then looked up from the photographs, eyes meeting Octavia's, although the young demon wanted to look away. There was something deeply wrong about this woman's gaze...too knowing, too smart, as if she could see straight through to Octavia's soul, cataloguing every weakness she found there.
"And may I offer my congratulations on your recent... elevation in status? Succeeding your father as the new Marquise of the Ars Goetia is quite an accomplishment for someone your age. Such responsibility, such power... though I imagine it comes with its own unique stress."
"It does..." Octavia murmured, feeling creeped out. But instead of breaking down and giving this woman the satisfaction of seeing her pain, Octavia found herself channeling that emotion into something sharper, more pointed. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the woman across from her, taking in every detail of her appearance and demeanor. If she can play that game, Octavia sure as shit will be too. "Let me guess...you're some kind of secret cabal, right? The puppet masters pulling strings from behind the scenes? How absolutely fucking original."
That made the woman smirk, finding it adorable that she resists. She knows that Octavia tries to convey her complete lack of respect for whatever organization she represented. Eve can see that Octavia refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cower despite being chained to a chair, having the power-suppressing collar around her throat and everything that had happened to her. But that's Ars Goetian style that Eve is familiar with...so there is nothing that Providence didn't probe deep enough.
"What else can you say about us, Octavia?" The woman played along.
"I dunno. I suppose you've got files on everyone in Hell, don't you? Sitting in your little surveillance rooms, taking pictures, documenting our lives like we're some kind of zoo animals for your entertainment."
"I know that demons tend to believe that angels and Heaven are all 'hippies of the skies,'...you know, peaceful beings floating on clouds, singing hymns, concerned only with love and forgiveness and other such... sentimental notions." The woman 's demeanor didn't change at the verbal assault. If anything, she seemed almost pleased by Octavia's defiance. She closed the folder with deliberate care before folding her hands over it. "But that isn't the truth, Lady Octavia. The truth is that Heaven takes the preservation of the Old Order very seriously."
The woman paused, allowing her words to reach Octavia's thoughts with a slight smile that somehow managed to be both gentle and absolutely terrifying. Her fingers drummed once against the folder, a subtle reminder of the extensive surveillance network that had been documenting Octavia's every move...and also a little cue for Octavia to not fuck with them.
"That's where I come in...where we come in. We exist to ensure that the cosmic order created by our Lord remains intact, that the proper balance is maintained between Heaven, Hell, and all points in between. We monitor, we analyze, and we intervene when necessary to prevent... disruptions. So while, say, your father and others play their little political games with various princes and nobles scheme and plot for advantage, we watch. We document and we prepare ourselves for Hell's bullshit. And when the time comes for correction, we act . For the Eye of Providence is but another name for natural law. Natural law itself would go out in a minute if it were not for the divine thought that is behind it."
Octavia felt a chill run down her spine once more. She didn't like it at all, for she was beginning to realize that even Ars Goetia scheming is a league far beyond anything she'd previously imagined. All of it was giving her a headache that competed with the lingering effects of whatever they'd used to drug her. She was tired of games.
"Okay, let's cut through all the bullshit. Who are you? Not your organization, not your grand purpose in the universe. You. Personally. What's your name?"
The question seemed to catch her slightly off guard, though Eve recovered quickly. There was something almost refreshing about the young demon's directness, a welcome change from the usual of her interactions with Hell's nobility. Phenex included.
"Agent Genesis and Detective of Demonic Crimes against Humanity in Eye of Providence."
"A detective?" Octavia's eyebrows rose slightly at this revelation. She couldn't help but let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Seriously? I would have figured someone with your apparent rank and authority would be stuck behind a desk somewhere, pushing papers and delegating the dirty work to underlings like to mister cool guy over there."
Octavia gestured as best she could toward the silent exorcist, who remained standing at attention against the wall. He didn't respond, but he sure as shit nearly smiled. Eve's own lips curved into what might have been the first genuine smile Octavia had seen from her.
"Unfortunately for you, we don't sit around that often, Octavia. Fieldwork is very much a part of what I do. You can't properly understand the subjects of your investigation if you only know them through reports and surveillance footage. For instance, I've learned more about your character in the past few minutes of conversation than months of surveillance could have told me."
"Bet you're going to write a psychological report after this and store it in your secret little cozy place, huh?" Octavia asked passive-aggressively, getting impatient.
"Of course I will. And besides, detective work has always been something of a passion of mine." Eve continued, taking on an almost casual tone. "Could be just I'm a very curious woman, for there's something deeply satisfying about piecing together the truth from fragments of evidence, about understanding the motivations and methods behind various... goals. It's something that's both a blessing...and a curse to me ."
"And what in the fucking void does any of this have to do with me?!" Octavia's patience already worn thin by everything she'd endured finally snapped completely. The dancing around whatever point this woman was trying to make was driving Octavia to the edge of her sanity. "Look, Detective Genesis or Agent whatever-the-fuck, I haven't done anything wrong. I got kidnapped by terrorists, I got drugged, I got chained to a chair, and now I'm being interrogated by some detective who lectures me about universal order bullshit. So, either tell me what specific crime you think I've committed, or cut the mystical bullshit and get to the point. Because right now, all I'm seeing is you wasting my time!"
As Octavia finished, Eve's manners shifted, with warmth draining from her to be replaced by something colder. If Octavia really wants it, Eve will deliver the full package.
"I won't sugarcoat this, and I won't insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise, Miss Octavia. The Eye of Providence knows that you are a personal friend of Charlotte Morningstar. You are going to tell me exactly why Charlie came to the Ring of Limbo in the first place."
Even Rönne, standing at attention against the wall, couldn't entirely suppress the slight tensing of his shoulders at the mention of Lucifer's daughter. This was the heart of it, the real reason Octavia was here. Not because of her own actions, but because of her closeness to Hell's heir.
"Why the fuck would some low-life marquise like me know anything about why Charlie is here?" Octavia shot back, her voice dripping with affected disdain. "Do you seriously think the Princess of Hell would hang out with random nobility or she pulls me aside at parties and whispers her deepest secrets about cosmic conspiracies?" She let out a harsh, bitter laugh that echoed off the sterile walls. “I'm nobody, Detective. A mid-tier noble with daddy issues and zero political influence. If Charlie really wanted to share, I guarantee you I'm the last person she'd tell about it. You've got the wrong demon."
Behind her, Rönne's jaw tightened with obvious worry. He could see exactly what Octavia was doing, using the same self-deprecating deflection she'd employed throughout their earlier conversation, trying to make herself seem too insignificant to possess the information they wanted. But he also knew that Eve was far too experienced an interrogator to be fooled by such transparent misdirection.
"I have come long way from listening bullshit coming to my ears straight from a literal snake, missy." Eve hissed, her voice dropping to a whisper. She then reached up and removed her dark sunglasses with deliberate slowness. "You will not fool me here, and you will not fool anyone else in this room with your pathetic attempts at misdirection."
"You have no facts, human." Octavia countered back, narrowing her eyes.
"Do I? Because it so happens that this Exorcist over here is a witness to your friendship with Princess Charlotte. And beyond that, we know that 'peers' tend to stick together no matter what their personal differences might be. Nobility looks out for nobility, especially when they're both young. It's simple psychology, basic social dynamics that even a first-year intelligence analyst could predict."
"That's bullshit!" Octavia persisted.
"So you say. If you deny, then sure, have it your way, for the truth speaks for itself. But most importantly," Eve's fingers drummed once against the closed folder. "We know that Princess Charlotte helped you out by saving your parents during that little... domestic crisis in Lemegeton."
"Ah, shit..." Octavia cursed to herself, seeing she lost this round.
"So you see, dear girl, I am one hundred percent certain that you are lying to me right now. The question isn't whether you know why Princess Charlotte came to Limbo. The question is whether you're going to tell me voluntarily or whether we're going to have to extract that information through... less pleasant means. As I learned, you reap what you sow, Octavia and now it's your time to sow."
Even Octavia could feel how much more heated it became, with the threats being rather...serious. But despite the fear gnawing at her insides and the rational part of her mind screaming that cooperation might be her only path to survival, something deeper and more fundamental rebelled against the idea of betraying Charlie. Maybe it was Charlie's genuine kindness during their brief time together. Maybe it was the desperate need to maintain control over at least one aspect of her increasingly powerless situation. Or maybe it was simply the stubborn streak that had always defined her relationship with authority figures who tried to manipulate her.
Hence, Octavia let her words be known. The way she is always known for...
"Go fuck yourself."
Eve's eyebrows rose slightly, not in surprise exactly, but with the kind of mild interest. Behind Octavia, she could hear Rönne's sharp intake of breath, a sound that suggested he understood far better than she did just how dangerous her defiance had become.
"I don't know where Charlie is right now! I don't know what her plans are nor why she came to Limbo. Even if I did know all of those things, I sure as void wouldn't tell you sky fuckers anything about it. Charlie saved my parents' lives when she didn't have to. She showed me more genuine kindness in one day than most demons have in my entire existence. So you can take your threats and your surveillance photos and your universal order bullshit and shove it all straight up your angelic asses!"
"As they say...Pride is a grave sin." Rönne muttered, not liking it at all.
Eve hummed in agreement, for her demeanor was now much more chilling. The last vestiges of maternal warmth, the pretense of civilized conversation all of it evaporated in an instant, replaced by utter mercilessness. When she looked at Octavia now, there was no humanity left in her gaze.
"You know, Octavia, many throughout history have found it quite entertaining to fuck with the Eye of Providence. They've found our warnings empty, our authority questionable." Eve said softly as she then stood slowly from the edge of the table. She then began pacing slowly around Octavia's chair. "Unfortunately for them, they all made the same grave mistake. They assumed that our patience was infinite, that our resources were limited, and that our reach had boundaries." She paused directly behind Octavia's chair, close enough that the young demon could feel the unnatural chill that seemed to emanate from the angel's presence. "They were wrong."
"If you tried to torture me. My father will know about it and will murder you all!" Octavia tried to argue, but again she felt she was losing this fight. Her sweat forming on her forehead was a sign of her weakness.
"Where is the fun in that, huh?" Eve circled back to face Octavia directly, completely devoid of any pretense of civility. "In fact, I think you did the right thing by mentioning your father here, my dear. Since you've chosen the difficult path, I'm going to show you exactly what the Eye of Providence is capable of when our patience is exhausted." She turned toward a corner of the room that had appeared empty throughout the entire interrogation. "Serial Designation J, decloak yourself and establish direct transmission protocol."
The air in the corner began to shimmer and warp before resolving into the form of a Disassembly Drone. The drone had been there the entire time. Both J and Rönne exchanged rather... distrustful glances before just forgetting the presence of one another.
"The fuck is that?" Octavia's blood ran cold at the sight of that...thing. Exorcists were creepy, sure. But this robot thingy gave some...weird vibes.
"Your worst nightmare, abomination." J responded to Octavia's remark before raising her arm at the wall. "Establishing uplink now."
A section of the wall began to glow with soft blue light, transforming into what was clearly an advanced projection screen. The technology was far beyond anything Octavia had seen in Hell.
"You see, Lady Octavia, the Eye of Providence doesn't simply watch. As I said, when the situation requires it, we act immediately with complete disregard for the traditional boundaries that Heaven and Hell do with their laws and restrictions."
The screen flickered to life, and Octavia's heart stopped. The image was transmitted in real-time from what was unmistakably the interior of the Goetia mansion. She could see the familiar baroque architecture, the ornate furnishings that had surrounded her throughout her childhood, the distinctive decorative elements that marked it as unquestionably her family's home...and worse
Her dad was here.
Stolas was visible through what appeared to be a covert surveillance feed, going about what seemed to be routine activities within the supposed safety of his own home. He looked older than she remembered, more tired, with worry lines around his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and constant stress. The sight of him...vulnerable, unaware that he was being watched, completely oblivious to the danger that was apparently surrounding him at this very moment... hit Octavia like a physical blow.
"Dad..." The word escaped her beak as barely a whisper, all her earlier defiance crumbling in the face of this new and terrifying reality.
"Yes, your father. Ex-prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia, currently alone in his study, is completely unaware that he's being observed by our field operative."
"How..." Octavia's voice cracked with the weight of realization. "How long have you been watching him?"
"Why does it matter to you?" Eve replied with chilling indifference. "The relevant point is that what happens to him next depends entirely on the choices you make in the coming minutes."
And that's where Octavia realized what she meant by it. It filled her with a terror more profound than anything she'd experienced during her own captivity.
"You wouldn't dare! He is a Goetian Prince!" Octavia breathed, though even as the words left her mouth, she knew they were hollow. These people had already demonstrated capabilities and a willingness to act that made her earlier assumptions about the limits of their power seem laughably naive.
"An ex-prince, mind you." Without breaking eye contact with Octavia, Eve reached up to touch a communication device nestled in her ear. "Operative X1-47, Agent Genesis on Overwatch Line, Code 13X-G27-Z21. Target is confirmed in position. Take aim and begin countdown protocol. Sixty seconds on my mark."
"You can't do that-" Octavia tried to stop her...but no avail.
"Start now." Eve simply said, hands now behind her back as she stared at Octavia's horrified face with indifference. This wasn't a bluff; it wasn't psychological manipulation designed to break Octavia's resolve. This was real, immediate, and happening right now.
"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!" Octavia's scream tore from her throat, her voice cracking with raw terror and desperation. She threw herself against her restraints with renewed fury, "HE'S DONE NOTHING WRONG! NOTHING! YOU CAN'T JUST MURDER HIM BECAUSE I WON'T ANSWER YOUR VOIDDAMN QUESTIONS!"
But Eve simply turned away from her, focusing instead on J's holographic display with the same clinical detachment. Her complete indifference to Octavia's anguish was somehow more terrifying than active malice would have been. This wasn't personal, wasn't driven by anger or sadism, but by the cold logical use of a very effective method.
J's visor began displaying a prominent countdown timer in glowing red numerals: 00:58... 00:57... 00:56... Each second ticked by, marking time until an irreversible tragedy that Octavia was powerless to prevent.
"Please!" The word exploded from Octavia's lips, all her earlier defiance dissolving into pure, desperate pleading. "Please, I'm begging you! Don't do this! Kill me instead! Take whatever you want from me, but don't hurt him! He doesn't even know what's happening!"
00:50...
00:49...
00:48...
"You reaped what you sowed, Lady Octavia." Eve didn't even glance in her direction, her attention apparently absorbed by whatever numbers were being displayed on J's visor.
"NO!" Octavia's voice broke completely, tears streaming down her face as she continued her futile struggle against the restraints. "This isn't a consequence; this is MURDER! This is executing an innocent demon because his daughter won't betray her friend! How does that serve your interests?!"
00:35...
00:34...
00:33...
"Please, please, PLEASE!" Her begging became more frantic with each passing second, her voice rising to a pitch that suggested she was on the verge of a complete psychological breakdown. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know! I'll cooperate! I'll do anything, just call it off! CALL IT OFF!"
"You're lying, Octavia." Eve remained unmoved, her expression as cold and impassive as carved stone. The countdown continued its relentless progression, each number bringing them closer to a point of no return that would haunt Octavia for the rest of her existence.
00:25...
00:24...
00:23...
Even Rönne, standing at attention against the wall throughout the entire exchange, was beginning to show signs of visible discomfort. His jaw was clenched tight, his hands clasped behind his back, and there was something in him that suggested he was struggling with internal conflict.
As an Exorcist, he'd seen his share of morally questionable operations. He'd participated in missions that required difficult choices and had followed orders that left him questioning the nature of justice and necessity. But like the Exorcists themselves, the Eye of Providence was notorious for employing methods that others in Heaven might consider extreme, for prioritizing results over conventional ethical considerations.
And this... felt wrong in a way that went beyond necessity and into something that looked disturbingly like sadistic psychological torture. Watching a young woman beg for her father's life while a countdown timer ticked toward his execution. That was cruelty for its own sake, power exercised without restraint or moral consideration. That's how the Eye of Providence truly is. If they really need to destroy half of Earth to achieve order, they will do that no matter what.
00:15...
00:14...
00:13...
"Agent Genesis..." Rönne's voice cut through Octavia's desperate pleading, carefully controlled but carrying an undertone that suggested his discomfort was approaching a breaking point. He, of course, kept his tone respectful.
Eve instead gestured for him to remain calm, for she is handling the situation quite well.
00:10...
00:09...
00:08...
Octavia's screams of begging had dissolved into incoherent sobbing, her voice too raw to form words anymore. She could only watch in helpless horror as the numbers continued their inexorable countdown toward the moment when everything she cared about would be destroyed, when the last anchor of purpose in her chaotic life would be ripped away by forces she couldn't fight or understand.
"STOP!" The word erupted from Octavia's throat with the last reserves of her voice, raw and desperate and breaking with absolute defeat. "STOP, PLEASE! I'LL TELL YOU EVERYTHING! I'LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT TO KNOW! PLEASE DON'T KILL HIM!"
00:03...
00:02...
00:01...
"Operative X1-47, abort. Stand down immediately. " Eve spoke into her earpiece with the same calm efficiency she'd used to initiate the countdown, as if calling off an execution was as routine as ordering morning coffee. "Return to surveillance and await further instructions."
The countdown froze at 00:01, the single digit glowing ominously on J's visor. They were so close to crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. The Disassembly Drone's head tilted slightly with a sigh. It's clear she felt disappointment at being denied what would have been an undoubtedly spectacular termination sequence.
"Shame, really." J muttered. Even her synthetic tone was enough to suggest that she'd been looking forward to whatever violence had been planned.
But Eve ignored the drone's commentary entirely, her attention now focused on the broken young woman chained to the chair before her. Octavia was still sobbing, her entire body shaking with the aftershocks of terror and relief, her face streaked with tears and her voice reduced to hoarse whispers.
Eve approached slowly once more. When she reached Octavia's chair, she crouched down to bring herself to eye level with the young demon, her voice taking on the same artificially gentle tone she'd used at the beginning of their interaction.
"That wasn't so difficult, was it? Now then, Octavia...are you going to be nice for me from now on?"
"Y-yes..." Octavia's response came immediately, delivered through broken sobs. All fight had been systematically tortured out of her, leaving behind only the desperate compliance of someone who would say anything, do anything, to prevent the nightmare scenario she'd just witnessed from becoming reality.
"And you're going to tell me everything I want to know about Princess Charlotte's activities, aren't you?" Eve continued in that same soft, coaxing tone. She reached out with one hand to brush away the tears from Octavia's cheek, the gesture tender in a way that somehow made it more disturbing.
"Yes..." The word came out as a broken whisper, but it carried absolute honesty. Octavia's spirit completely crushed under the weight of what she'd just experienced. "Yes, I'll tell you everything. Whatever you want to know. Just... just please don't hurt him. Please don't hurt my dad."
Eve nodded with the same gentle satisfaction. She touched her earpiece once more.
"X1-47, withdraw to perimeter surveillance. Target is no longer designated for termination nor surveillance. Resume standard pullback from Infernal soil." She closed the channel, her eyes never leaving Octavia's tear-streaked face. "Consider this a gesture of good faith in honor of your cooperation, Octavia."
The relief that washed over Octavia was so profound it was almost physical, her shoulders sagging as the immediate threat to her father's life was lifted. But even in her broken state, she understood that this reprieve was contingent on her continued compliance, that any attempt to return to her earlier defiance would immediately reinstate the death sentence hanging over Stolas.
"Now then," Eve said, settling herself more comfortably in front of Octavia's chair. "Are you going to honor your part of our mutual understanding?"
Octavia nodded weakly, sniffing as she tried to compose herself enough to speak coherently.
"All I know is that something happened between Charlie and her dad. Something that made Charlie seek help from the Ars Goetia directly."
"What kind of 'something' are we talking about here?" Eve's eyebrows rose slightly at this revelation, her expression shifting from casual interest to sharp attention.
This was clearly not what she had been expecting to hear. Of all the possible motivations and connections she might have theorized about Princess Charlotte's presence in Limbo, direct involvement with Lucifer himself had apparently not made her list of probable scenarios....It's Lucifer, after all.
"Charlie and Elector-Duke Astaroth made a deal," Octavia took a shuddering breath. "Charlie's own Hotel would fall under Ars Goetia protection, as in officially becoming Goetia property. In exchange, Charlie would help finish the rebellion here in Limbo."
Eve processed this information, but her next question came with a different sort of intensity...more personal, more probing in a way.
"Tell me about Princess Charlotte's relationship with her father." Eve said, leaning forward slightly. "Did she express any resentment toward Lucifer? Any anger or frustration recently between them?"
Octavia blinked through her tears, the question catching her off guard. She had expected more inquiries about political implications, not personal family relationships. But in her broken state, she answered without hesitation or consideration for what her response might reveal.
"She... she looked sad whenever she mentioned her dad. Not angry, exactly. Just... sad. Like she wanted something from him that she wasn't getting. She talked about trying to make him proud, about wanting his support for her hotel project, but there was this hurt in her eyes when she said it."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Helel." Eve muttered under her breath, covering her face with both hands as she took a deep, frustrated sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of her being. Her face went through a rapid succession of emotions. Surprise, confusion, recognition, and then a grim understanding that spoke of pieces falling into place in some larger puzzle she'd been working to solve.
The situation indeed escalated with Charlie's whole adventure in Limbo. With Octavia's confirmations and the multiple pieces of evidence that are in line with what Octavia said, Eve can easily connect the dots. Plus, she knows Lucifer well enough that he won't try to do something stupid, such as directly telling Charlie to stop. It means one thing...he was forced by someone else . And this time, she already knows exactly who the perpetrator is.
Lilith
Because of course it does....
With a casual gesture of her hand, fingers flicking dismissively as if shooing away an annoying fly, Eve signaled to the corner where J remained visible. The Disassembly Drone head tilted in acknowledgment as the air shimmered around the drone's form, reality bending and warping until she vanished completely from sight once again.
"Now then..." Eve turned her attention back to Octavia, who remained slumped in her chair like a broken doll, returning to the deceptively gentle tone she'd used throughout most of their interaction. Broken subjects were cooperative subjects, and Eve needed cooperation more than she needed defiance right now. "Let's move on to more immediate concerns. What brought you to Limbo in the first place, Miss Octavia?"
"I was following orders from the Electorate," Octavia's response came immediately: "They sent me here to retrieve a specific book. That's all I was supposed to do...find the book, bring it to Goetia hands."
"What book?" The question came sharp and immediate: In Eve's experience, when powerful groups like Ars Goetia went to great lengths to retrieve specific texts from remote locations, those texts usually contained information that was either extremely valuable or extremely dangerous...often both.
"The Book of Solomon."
"Of course..." Eve muttered under her breath as she rubbed her temples with both hands.
As per usual, Ars Goetia is stuck in perpetual obsession with King Solomon. The Book of King Solomon wasn't just any ancient text. it was one of the most dangerous repositories of occult knowledge in existence, containing spells and very powerful magic that could reshape the very fabric of reality if wielded by someone with sufficient power and knowledge.
if the Ars Goetia was being drawn into some larger conspiracy that required access to Solomon's most dangerous secrets... then this wasn't just a political uprising or a family dispute. This was the beginning of something that could threaten the cosmic order itself. In other words, Goetia can make themselves more powerful than the Seven Deadly Sins.
And everyone knows what happens next...because a bitter nobility hating their overlords never brought good times for anyone.
Eve's gaze shifted across the room to where Rönne stood at attention against the wall. Their eyes met, and she saw her own understanding reflected. Rönne's nod was slow and deliberate. As an experienced Exorcist, he'd dealt with enough supernatural phenomena to recognize the significance of what they'd just learned. The Book of Solomon wasn't something that got retrieved casually or for minor political advantages. It was a weapon of last resort, the kind of thing that only got deployed when someone was preparing for war.
Things have become much worse.
"No time to waste then..." Eve said finally with the weary tone of someone who had just realized that her day was about to become significantly more complicated.
She turned back to Octavia, looking at the broken young demon with something that might have been professional appreciation. Despite everything she'd endured; the kidnapping, the drugs, the psychological torture, the threat to her father's life, Octavia had ultimately provided exactly the information they needed. That kind of resilience, even in defeat, was worthy of acknowledgment.
"I have to say, Miss Octavia. You've been remarkably persistent throughout this entire ordeal. Even when faced with your father's fake execution, you held out as long as you could."
"...What?" Octavia could not believe what she just heard right now.
"Did you really believe it was real? it's one of those AI generated crap you see on Mortal World, just with a few tweaks from Providence to make it real." Eve nearly chuckled at this, even Rönne surprised by it, for he...thought it was real. "But again, that kind of loyalty is... admirable, even if it was ultimately misguided. And now that you've chosen to be docile, you've proven that you can be quite reasonable when the stakes are properly explained to you. That's exactly the kind of practical intelligence we value in our operations."
"You fucking cruel bitch!" Instead of gratitude or relief at the praise, Octavia's response came as a low, venomous hiss that cut through the sterile air like a blade. "You're no better than the worst demons in Hell who get off on watching others suffer. At least they're honest about what they are. You hide behind this bullshit about universal order while you torture innocent demons for information."
"Would you liked us to pay a real visit to your father, Octavia?" Eve asked with a serious tone, making Octavia shut her beak for now. "You may question our methods, but I had a simple and non-lethal approach to make you squirm. Do you think we enjoy this and that I take pleasure in threatening your life or watching you break down in tears? Every day, we prevent some wars on Earth that would make Hell's worst atrocities look like children's games. We stop madmen with nuclear weapons, corrupt politicians who would cause World Wars for their own power, and terrorist organizations that dream of bringing about apocalyptic scenarios. The methods we use are harsh because the alternative is watching entire civilizations destroy themselves through their own stupidity and shortsightedness. That's our branch on Earth, Illuminati; make sure that there is another day for Earth to live."
"YOU ARE BUNCH-..." Octavia stopped herself, searching for much more...proper words to not provoke much harm. "Not nice people..."
"I understand that, Octavia. We never claim to be. Someone must make drastic decisions to make things better for all and in an orderly fashion."
But as quickly as the philosophical justification had emerged, Eve's demeanor shifted once again, returning to the more conversational tone she'd used throughout most of their interaction.
"However, I am not unkind. Despite what you might think of our methods, the Eye of Providence believes in rewarding cooperation when it's given freely and completely."
Eve's hand moved to her belt, fingers finding a small, sophisticated recording device that had been clipped there throughout their entire conversation. The device was sleek and angular, constructed from the same advanced materials that seemed to characterize all the Eye of Providence's technology. She unclipped it and set it on the table between them with a soft click.
"What's that supposed to be? Are you trying to expose someone having an orgy in the Ars Goetia to me? Because honestly, at this point, sexual scandals would be the least shocking thing you could show me." Octavia's eyes fixed on the device, her exhausted mind trying to wonder what new psychological warfare Eve might be preparing to unleash. After everything she'd endured, she wasn't sure she had the mental fortitude to handle whatever fresh void this recording might contain.
"No, Octavia. As much as you don't realize, you're also being used by third parties of Goetia." Eve's lips curved into what might have been genuine amusement at the young demon's attempt at dark humor, even in her current state. “Hence, I believe you should have a chance for the truth to set you free, Octavia. And sometimes the truth comes in forms we don't expect...especially from those you're close to."
Her finger pressed down on the button, and the device immediately began to emit a soft blue glow as it activated its playback function. The sound quality was crystal clear, and what emerged from the speaker made Octavia's blood run cold. It was Eve's voice, unmistakably, but the conversation was clearly taking place in a different location and at different time. And the voice responding to her, the voice that made Octavia's heart sink, belonged to none other than Phenex Goetia.
RECORDING TRANSCRIPT
EVE: "I can't say I'm thrilled with how the trials in Lemegeton ended. From what you describe to me. The entire proceeding is a farce from start to finish."
PHENEX: "♪ Oh, my dear Agent Genesis, you speak as if this comes as some great revelation to you. Cutthroat politics and judicial manipulation are precisely what the Ars Goetia is famous for, after all, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "And this particular trial? What was the real objective?"
PHENEX: "♪ Why, it's quite obvious, isn't it? This entire charade was nothing more than an elaborate attempt to remove both Stolas and Stella from their positions of power permanently. The entire Ars Goetia has grown tired of their... complications, shall we say. The trial was simply the most legally defensible method of achieving that goal, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "Both of them? I would have thought some of Goetia might favor one over the other."
PHENEX: "♪ You assume there are any favorites in this society. Stolas has become far too independent, too willing to make deals with... unsavory elements. And Stella? Well, her recent behavior has been nothing short of embarrassing to the entire Goetia name. They're both liabilities to them, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "So this was all about clearing their reputation? Making sure the Ars Goetia maintains its pristine image in Hell's hierarchy?"
PHENEX: "♪ Oh, my dear Genesis, you truly don't understand the Goetia mindset at all, do you? We don't clear our reputation. We simply don't care what, and I quote, ‘lesser beings’ think of us in the first place. Reputation implies concern for the opinions of others, and in Goetia’s mind, those who aren't Goetia might as well be peasants... or worse, slaves and other undesirables. The Deadly Sins? Peasants with inflated egos to us. The Lucifer’s Overlords? Amusing pets who've forgotten their place. Even King Of Pride himself... well, let's just say that if the Ars Goetia had any real opportunity, we would have reconquered all of Inferno for ourselves long ago. We are, after all, obsessed with becoming the living incarnate of Ars Belial... or perhaps even surpassing our father of Ars Goetia, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "Makes sense. It's probably for the best that Ars Belial is dead. From what I've read in our files, he was far too competent and effective a leader for the Ars Goetia. Someone with his capabilities combined with their inherent superiority complex could have been... problematic for Heaven."
PHENEX: "♪ How refreshingly honest of you to admit that Heaven feared our progenitor. Yes, Belial was everything we aspire to become: power incarnate, majestic brilliance personified, and absolutely ruthless in pursuit of our rightful dominion over Hell's hierarchy, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "Which brings me to my next point. I presume you too were part of that whole conspiracy during the trial, Phenex. You had your own agenda in all of this."
PHENEX: "♪ Of course I did...every Goetia does. ♪"
Octavia's face had gone completely pale. Her Great Aunt's voice, so familiar and once comforting, now sounded like poison in her ears. Every family dinner where she'd listened to her fears, every private conversation where she'd offered guidance and every moment of apparent support had been just a performance.
"When..." Octavia's voice came out as barely a whisper, her words carefully controlled but vibrating with contained fury that threatened to explode at any moment. "When was this recorded?"
"A day or two after you arrived at Phenex's castle for your short visit."
"Literally after I..." Octavia stopped herself as she didn't want to share how...she laid an egg. Then again, it's the Eye of Providence, so chances are they already know. "But...why would she do that?!"
"Listen then." Eve pushed the button. The recording resumed, and this time every word felt like a physical blow.
PHENEX: "♪ But I was just one small piece on the chessboard against the Houses with their own agendas. hmm, yes. So, I had to be discreet and fake having no ambition on Octavia. This is why I lashed out on Stolas at the valley, to show I pose no threat to their prize. ♪"
EVE: "And what exactly was this prize they were competing for?"
PHENEX: "♪ Why, it's Octavia herself, of course. The dear child had and still has no idea how valuable she's become to the various houses. House Paimon, Zepar himself, wanted her desperately. That's precisely why his son, Gaap, was used as such an effective weapon against both Stolas and Stella. His fake testimony alone nearly ensured their executions, hmm, yes. ♪"
“Cloacarubbers...” Octavia's hands clenched into fists despite the restraints. She wasn't just collateral damage in her parents' trial. She was the actual objective, the prize that everyone was fighting to claim.
EVE: "House Paimon wasn't the only party interested in her, I assume?"
PHENEX: "♪ Oh, hardly. There's also my brother Andras with my nephew Andrephalus. They wanted Octavia in house Andras-Phenexia as well. She would be a tremendous asset to their goals, bringing legitimacy and strength to their aspirations, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "But you weren't interested in bringing Octavia into your House?"
PHENEX: "♪ No, for it too much of a hassle would have been. I also tend to believe that Houses of Ars Goetia are useless anyway. Just fancy word for political marriage alliances, hmm yes. ♪"
EVE: "But you had an advantage in this competition, don't you?"
PHENEX: "♪ Indeed I did. You see, while the other houses were busy with their crude and typical scheming, I took the initiative to research dear Octavia's lineage more thoroughly. Historical records can be so illuminating when one knows where to look, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "What kind of historical records?"
PHENEX: "♪ The kind that reveal dear Octavia's true heritage, of course. You see, she is the direct descendant of Grand Hierophant Stolas for he was original founder of the House of Stolas bloodline. Queen Octavia was the last direct heir of the House of Stolas. Her father, King Octavian, did have an older child, Duchess Nocturna II, but for reasons that remain mysteriously absent from the historical records, Octavian chose to disinherit her entirely. Politics, scandal, incompetence... who can say? The important point is that Queen Octavia became the sole inheritor, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "But Queen Octavia married into House Paimon later in her life?"
PHENEX: "♪ Ah, there's the crucial detail! When Queen Octavia married Paimon, it was explicitly agreed upon that their children would belong to House Paimon, effectively making the House of Stolas... how shall I put this delicately... defunct. A dead bloodline, absorbed into Paimon's properly, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "So you're saying that with House Paimon and House Andras retracting their claims on Octavia, she instead directly inherited House of Stolas? Resurrected a defunct bloodline?"
PHENEX: "♪ You catch on so quickly, my dear Genesis. Since, as they say, 'dead birds tell no tales,' there would be no one left to argue that young Octavia cannot legitimately inherit the House of Stolas, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "And this benefits you how, exactly?"
PHENEX: "♪ Why, it's quite simple, really. Once the legal mechanisms were properly arranged, I was granted the distinct honor of welcoming dear Octavia into the ranks as the Marquise of House Octavia. A newly created Cadet Branch of House Stolas, hmm, yes. ♪"
The recording continued, but Octavia had stopped processing the individual words. Her breathing had become shallow and rapid, her entire body trembling with the effort of containing the fury that was building inside her like molten lava. The casual way Phenex discussed manipulating her entire future, the musical lilt that turned her heritage into entertainment, the complete absence of any consideration for her as a person rather than a political asset-it all combined into a cocktail of rage that threatened to consume her entirely.
"All that time...and my own Great Aunt used me too." Octavia said, her eyes fixed on the recording device with laser intensity. "I'm just... a thing to be won. A prize to be claimed. A political asset to be traded between houses like livestock."
Compared to Amy, this was a new low for Octavia. They had reduced her to nothing more than a means to an end, a tool to be used in their endless games of power and influence. But this went beyond simple political maneuvering. This was theft and erasure of everything that made her who she was so it could be rebuilt in Phenex's image or however she wanted Octavia to be.
"I'm afraid it's not over yet," Eve sighed, ready to push the button again. "There's more for you to hear."
EVE: "Why go to all this trouble, Phenex? What's your actual motivation here? This seems like an extraordinary amount of effort for simple power consolidation."
There was a long silence on the recording, longer than any of the previous pauses. When Phenex finally responded, her musical lilt had taken on a more serious tone, as if he were considering how much truth to reveal.
PHENEX: "♪ Very well, since you've proven yourself to be...perceptive in these matters, I won't sugarcoat the situation in Ars Goetia. I need more reliable allies in the Marquisate. More... shall we say, yesmen who won't question my decisions, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "And Octavia fits this requirement how exactly?"
PHENEX: "♪ My niece would be properly guided by me, naturally. Shaped by appropriate influences rather than... well, there are certain elements within the Ars Goetia that have become rather concerning in recent years. Something distinctly... off about particular members of our hierarchy, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "Off in what way?"
PHENEX: "♪ Astaroth, for instance. He is a Warmonger for sure, and something makes me feel that he seeks to claim the throne of Ars. There are also Nocturna II and Agares. They were known to be Ars Bael's most loyal Goetias. There's something about their recent activities that suggests they may not have the Ars Goetia's best interests at heart. With Octavia as Marquise under my guidance, I could ensure she remains properly insulated from such... bad elements, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "You're concerned about brewing conflict in Ars Goetia?"
PHENEX: "♪ I'm concerned about survival more, my dear Genesis. Goetias like Zepar will undoubtedly seek revenge once they realize how thoroughly I've outmaneuvered them in this particular game. They'll come for both myself and Octavia, which is precisely why I need to act quickly and decisively, hmm, yes. ♪"
There was another pause, and when Phenex spoke again, there was genuine concern that made her words even more chilling.
PHENEX: "♪ That's actually one of the reasons I'm rather... not sure about Octavia's current plan to go to Limbo with Gaap, of all demons. The boy is ambitious, I'll grant you that, but he's ultimately his father's creature. Sooner or later, he will stab Octavia in the back. It's simply inevitable, given the political dynamics at play, hmm, yes. ♪"
EVE: "And you're already one step ahead in this?"
PHENEX : "♪ Of course. You assume I would rely solely on political machinations and legal maneuvering. How quaint. No, no... I believe in being... thorough in my preparations, hmm, yes. ♪"
"Of course you do..." Octavia gritted her teeth. Now she felt she did the right thing by having rather a reclusive life. Now she couldn't trust the other Goetia houses, couldn't trust the Goetia she'd been traveling with. At least there was Olivia, whom Octavia knew she could rely upon no matter what.
...
Right?
There was a pause in the recording-longer than the others, pregnant with something that felt almost like anticipation, as if Phenex were smiling on the other end of the conversation.
EVE: "Meaning?"
PHENEX: "♪ Meaning that one must always have reliable sources of information when dealing with such... unpredictable Goetias. Olivia, my dear, would you join us, please? ♪"
Turns out...
No
"W-what?" Octavia whispered to herself, her heart stopping completely for what felt like an eternity before resuming with painful, erratic beats. Did she just say Olivia, Octavia’s Lady-in-Waiting, her closest friend, her secret love, the one person in her entire existence who had seemed genuine, caring and trustworthy?
NO! There had to be some mistake, some cruel coincidence of names, some sick joke that Phenex was playing with the recording. But then she heard them...the click of heels against marble flooring, drawing closer with each step. The sound was achingly familiar, the same rhythm that had accompanied Octavia when Olivia was following her, the same gentle cadence that had brought comfort during her darkest moments.
OLIVIA: "How may I assist you, Your Grace?"
"N-no..." Octavia's entire demeanor broke down...it made Octavia's chest tighten with something that felt like drowning
PHENEX: "♪ How is our dear Octavia faring this evening? Still sleeping after...you know? ♪"
OLIVIA: "Yes, Your Grace. She's been sleeping for several hours now."
PHENEX: "♪ Excellent. That brings me to the matter I wished to discuss with you, my dear. As you know, Octavia will be traveling to Limbo shortly, and I believe it would be... prudent for her to have proper companionship during such a dangerous journey, hmm, yes. ♪"
OLIVIA: "Of course, Your Grace. I assume you'll be selecting from among the household guard?"
PHENEX: "♪ Oh no, no, no. I had someone far more... suitable in mind. You, my dear Olivia, will be accompanying Octavia to Limbo. ♪"
There was a pause, followed by a loss of words. Perhaps Olivia felt hesitation, uncertainty, perhaps even fear.
OLIVIA: "Your Grace, I... I'm not certain that would be appropriate. My duties here at the estate, my responsibilities - "
PHENEX: "♪ Will be managed quite adequately in your absence by Lady Iria, I assure you. Besides, this isn't a request, my dear. Consider it... a necessary assignment, hmm, yes. ♪"
Another pause, longer this time. Could be Olivia just thinking it trough.
OLIVIA: "What exactly would you need me to do in Limbo, Your Grace?"
PHENEX: "♪ Simply keep me informed of Octavia's activities, her emotional state, and how she handles herself with Prince Gaap. Nothing too demanding. Think of it as... an extension of your current role as her Lady-in-Waiting, hmm, yes. ♪"
OLIVIA: "Your Grace, I... I'm not sure I'm comfortable with..."
PHENEX: "♪ Comfortable? My dear child, I fear you may have forgotten certain... realities about your current situation. Perhaps it would help to remind you of what happened to your father, Duke Focalor, when he displeased certain members of the Ars Goetia hierarchy? ♪"
OLIVIA: "What about my father?"
PHENEX: "♪ Zepar was most...creative in his approach to punishment, wasn't he? The public humiliation, the systematic dismantling of House Focalor's political influence, the exile to Limbo under circumstances that can only be described as... unfortunate. It would be such a shame if similar misfortunes were to befall him again, hmm, yes. ♪"
OLIVIA: "He's... he's in Limbo?"
PHENEX: "♪ Oh yes, my dear. Alongside with his son, hmm, yes. ♪"
OLIVIA: "What do you need me to report on?"
PHENEX: "♪ Everything. Her conversations, her emotional responses, her relationships with other demons during the journey. Most importantly, I need to know if she begins to... drift away, hmm, yes. ♪"
OLIVIA: "I understand, Your Grace."
PHENEX: "♪ Excellent. Oh, and Olivia? This conversation never happened. As far as dear Octavia is concerned, your presence in Limbo is simply my way of ensuring she has familiar companionship during a difficult journey. Nothing more, nothing less, hmm, yes. ♪"
OLIVIA: "Of course, Your Grace. I wouldn't dream of troubling her with unnecessary concerns."
The recording clicked off, leaving the interrogation room in absolute silence. The blue glow from the device faded, but Octavia barely noticed. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes unfocused, her breathing so shallow it was barely visible. The final piece of her world...the last person she had trusted, the only relationship that had felt genuine and pure...had just been revealed as another manipulation, another lie, another weapon pointed at her heart.
Eve watched the young demon's complete psychological collapse with clinical interest, noting the way Octavia's shoulders sagged, the way her hands went limp in their restraints, and the way her entire body seemed to deflate like a punctured balloon. This was what total defeat looked like, not just the loss of a battle but the absolute destruction of hope itself.
For several long minutes, Octavia sat in stunned silence, her mind struggling to process the magnitude of the betrayal she had just witnessed.
"What... what was her goal?" The words scraped against her throat like glass shards. "What did Phenex actually want from all of this? From... from her?"
"Your aunt didn't trust that you would survive the journey to Limbo, Octavia.” Eve's expression softened marginally, recognizing the genuine pain behind the question. “She was convinced that Gaap would eventually betray you. Probably to kill you, most likely, once you had served his purpose in retrieving the Book of Solomon."
Octavia's breathing became more labored as she waited for the rest of the explanation, dreading what new horror she was about to learn.
"So Phenex approached us," Eve continued matter-of-factly. "She proposed a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Eye of Providence would eliminate Gaap before he could harm you, and in exchange, Olivia would ensure that Gaap was kept isolated from you as much as possible during the journey. She was to create distance, manufacture conflicts, anything to keep you safe from his inevitable betrayal."
"You made a deal to... to murder Gaap?" Octavia's voice cracked with disbelief.
"I was the designated assassin," From his position against the wall, Rönne spoke for the first time in what felt like hours. "Though at this point, given recent developments, Gaap may no longer be your problem to worry about."
“All of that...and all of it was a lie.” Octavia could only make a pathetic chuckle, followed by releasing a long, shuddering sigh, her shoulders trembling with the effort of holding herself together. First came denial, swift and desperate.
"Olivia...Olivia wouldn't... she couldn't have been lying to me this whole time. She cares about me. I know she does. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she..."
But even as the words left her mouth, she could hear how hollow they sounded. Every gentle touch, every soft smile, every moment of apparent intimacy was now tainted with the knowledge that it had all been performance, manipulation designed to keep her compliant and controllable. In turn, that made me feel worse...Olivia played with Octavia's feelings...and that made it even more furious.
"I'm so stupid. *sniff* So fucking stupid. How could I have believed that someone like her could actually care about someone like me?" Octavia's head hung forward, her hair falling across her face like a curtain to hide the tears that were beginning to flow freely. "I should have known it was too good to be true."
But the slow anger couldn't sustain itself, not in the face of such overwhelming betrayal. It collapsed into self-hatred, her voice becoming broken.
Then her emotional breakdown exploded into rage once more. Pure, unadulterated fury that consumed everything else in its path. Octavia's head snapped up, which made even Eve take a step back.
"How dare she...how DARE she pretends to care about me while she was reporting every fucking word I said back to that musical freak! She watched me pour my heart out to her! She let me tell her things I'd never told anyone else! SHE IS THE ONLY DEMON I TRUSTED ABOVE EVERYONE ELSE AND SHE NEVER FUCKING TOLD ME!" Octavia threw herself against her restraints with renewed violence. "She watched me make a fool of myself! She watched me fall in love with her! She listened to me talk about how much she meant to me, how she was the only good thing in my worthless life!"
Tears were streaming down her face now, mixing with the raw fury in her voice to create something that was almost inhuman in its pain.
“Octavia-” Rönne tried to stop her; even he felt it was too much. But Eve quickly stopped him from acting, gesturing to stay silent and not...fuel the fire even more. At times, grief and sorrow must be exorcised all by yourself...for interference could only make it worse...that’s how Eve felt when she saw Abel’s body in her arms...for she failed her children on that fateful day.
"Was any of it real? ANYTHING? Did she ever actually smile because she was happy to see me? Did she ever actually touch me because she wanted to? Or was it all just another lie from her. Did she laugh at me? When she was writing her reports for Phenex, did she fucking laugh about how pathetic I was? About how easy it was to manipulate the lonely little demon girl who was so desperate for affection that she'd believe anything?"
The sobs came harder now, great heaving gasps that made it impossible for her to speak coherently. Every breath felt like drowning, every heartbeat like a physical wound.
"I told her I loved her, I told her... I told her she was everything to me. And she just... " Octavia whispered between sobs, her head fell forward again, her entire body convulsing with the force of her crying. The proud, defiant young demon who had insulted Eve and refused to cooperate was gone, replaced by a broken child who had just learned that love could be weaponized, that trust could be bought and sold, that even the most intimate moments of her life had been nothing more than someone else's agenda. "I don't understand, I don't understand how someone can pretend that well. How someone can fake caring about another person so completely that they fool themselves into believing it's real. How do you do that? How do you touch someone and kiss someone and hold them while they cry and make it all mean nothing?"
The silence that followed Octavia's broken whisper stretched on for what felt like an eternity, punctuated only by the harsh sound of her ragged breathing and the occasional drip of condensation from the sterile ceiling above. Then, like a dam finally bursting under unbearable pressure, Octavia's composure shattered completely.
"OLIVIA! WHY?! JUST FUCKING WHY DID YOU BETRAYED ME!" The scream tore from her throat with such raw, primal agony that it seemed to echo off the metal walls long after the sound had faded. It wasn't just her voice. it was the sound of every hope she'd ever held being ripped away, every tender moment being revealed as manipulation, every whispered confession of love being exposed as nothing more than intelligence gathering.
Her entire body convulsed against the restraints with desperate, animalistic fury. The metal chair groaned and scraped against the floor as she threw herself forward and back, left and right, fighting against bonds that had no intention of yielding. Her wrists began to bleed where the restraints cut into her skin, but she seemed beyond caring about physical pain when the emotional agony was so much more consuming.
"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!" The words came out in a voice that was barely recognizable as her own. It was higher pitched, with desperation, completely stripped of any pretense or dignity. "I TRUSTED YOU! I LOVED YOU! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING I HAD!"
Tears streamed down her face in torrents now, mixing with mucus from her nose and saliva from her gasping mouth to create a mess that spoke of absolute human...or rather, demonic-vulnerability.
Her breathing became increasingly erratic, great heaving gasps that suggested she was hyperventilating. The combination of emotional trauma, physical exhaustion, and the lingering effects of whatever drugs had been used to subdue her initially was creating a perfect storm of psychological collapse.
"I can't... I can't breathe," she gasped, her voice becoming smaller and more fragmented with each word. "Everything hurts. Everything is a lie. Everyone is using me. There's no one-there's no one left who-"
“I think this is too much, ma'am.” Rönne had to let his voice out, for he is getting concerned about this.
“I agree.” Eve slowly shook her head, something that might have been regret. She had expected resistance, certainly. She had expected anger, defiance, even tears. But she hadn't anticipated this level of complete psychological devastation. The young demon wasn't just crying...she was emotionally dissolving, falling apart at the seams in a way that suggested permanent damage to her ability to trust or love.
A quick glance toward Rönne confirmed what Eve will do next. The Exorcist's expression was carefully neutral, but his slight nod indicated that he understood her next decision. They had pushed too far, too fast. Octavia wasn't going to be useful to anyone in this state, not to them, not to herself, and certainly not to whatever larger conflict was brewing in the depths of Hell.
Eve then moved toward a small metal table positioned against the far wall and retrieved a syringe filled with the same sedative that Amy used on Octavia before. The first woman approached the chair slowly; the syringe held casually at her side where it wouldn't immediately alarm the already hysterical young demon.
"Miss Octavia, I need you to try to calm down right now."
But Octavia was beyond hearing, beyond rational thought. Her sobs had devolved into something that was almost keening, a high, continuous sound of anguish that spoke of pain too deep for words. Her entire body shook with the force of her crying, her head hanging forward so that her hair created a curtain around her face.
"You're going to hurt yourself if you continue like this.” Eve explained as the syringe moved toward Octavia's exposed neck. The young demon didn't even notice the approach, too lost in her own psychological torment to register another needle. When the needle found its mark just below her jawline, sliding smoothly into the soft tissue there, Octavia barely flinched. “This isn't personal, but this is for your own mental well-being. Rest now, Via."
The sedative worked quickly, as Eve had known it would. Within seconds, Octavia's violent sobbing began to subside, her breathing becoming deeper and more regular. The desperate pulling against her restraints slowed, then stopped entirely as her muscles began to relax against her will.
"No..." Octavia whispered, becoming slurred as the drug took hold. She could feel her consciousness slipping away, could sense the artificial calm being imposed over her anguish. "Please... I don't want to... I can't..."
Her head lolled forward, the weight becoming too much for her neck muscles to support. But even as the sedative pulled her toward unconsciousness, even as the immediate pain began to fade into chemical numbness, her moved to form one final word.
"Oli... please...don't leave me."
The word was more breath than sound, carrying with it all the desperate hope that somehow this had all been a mistake, that the demon she loved would somehow appear right now to explain that the recording had been faked, that the betrayal wasn't real...
Then her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing deepened into the regular rhythm of drug-induced sleep, and the interrogation room fell silent once more. The only sounds were the gentle hum of the ventilation system and the soft click of Eve's heels as she moved back toward the metal table to dispose of the empty syringe.
In the aftermath of the psychological carnage, Rönne let out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly as he surveyed the unconscious form slumped in the metal chair. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head with something that might have been dark amusement.
"That went well," he said dryly, his tone carrying the kind of gallows humor that military personnel often developed after witnessing too many operations that had spiraled beyond their intended parameters.
"Pff, meatbag." J sighed, getting tired of organics.
"Meatbag or not, we got what we needed regarding Princess Charlotte..." Eve replied matter-of-factly, as if the complete psychological breakdown of a young demon was simply an acceptable cost in E.O.P. "That's what matters in the end."
She moved towards Octavia's unconscious form, retrieving a small, advanced camera device from her utility belt. The soft click of the shutter seemed unnaturally loud in the sterile silence as she documented Octavia's current state-head lolled forward, tear stains still visible on her cheeks.
"Standard protocol, Exorcist." Eve explained, though Rönne hadn't asked but looked like he was about to ask. "Need it for Overwatch’s database.”
The clinical way she spoke about photographing an unconscious, traumatized Octavia said everything about how the Eye of Providence viewed the collateral damage of their methods. Before Rönne could formulate a response to this display of bureaucratic callousness, a harsh, urgent knocking echoed through the interrogation room. The sound was sharp and metallic, suggesting armored knuckles against reinforced steel.
"Hey, there. You heavenly fucks! Comrade Moxxara says hi." The voice that followed was a gruff one. "Council gathering in Conference Room Alpha. Priority One directive. You're required for a briefing on the next phase of operations. Move it or get out from our base!"
“And what about the prisoner?” Eve sighed in annoyance, expecting as much.
“She will go on holding cell designation seven."
“Grant her medical monitoring due to sedation. She's to remain isolated until further notice.” Eve responded back, then she turned quickly toward the corner where J remained partially visible through her optical camouflage. "Serial Designation J, Lieutenant Deadeye, with me. We're nearly done here anyway."
The Disassembly Drone's form shimmered back into full visibility, her head tilting with what might have been disappointment at being pulled away from the aftermath of such an emotionally devastating interrogation. But she fell into formation without complaint, her synthetic voice carrying its usual flat professionalism.
"Acknowledged, Agent Genesis. Shall I maintain surveillance protocols for the subject?"
"Negative. Tell Overwatch to cease the surveillance on the subject. Standard holding procedures will suffice. We have everything we need from her for now." Eve was already moving toward the door, her mind clearly shifting to whatever new crisis or opportunity awaited them in the conference room. "Let us deal with radicals first."
Rönne glanced once more at unconscious Octavia in her chair, shaking his head. Even for his worst enemy, he never really wished a series of psychological torture followed by emotional trauma. Dealing with Providence sometimes can be tiresome. Yes, Exorcists fared no better...even then, morality was a weird thing. One can argue that a simple, clean kill is much more humane than what Providence does to its enemies.
Even as that Disassembly Droid was all around, Rönne wondered about those who...decided to just...jump out of the ship. The so-called “Anti-Civil Ones” dubbed by Providence. Although purity in Exorcists was strong, it didn’t mean there weren’t those who never rebelled. He won’t lie, it was the closest he felt to defiance...and he’d rather not want to feel that again.
Because after Lucifer, betraying Heaven is a death warrant. If you’re not useful to Providence, you will be “disassembled and thrown away” at a moment’s notice. That’s the scariest thing about Heaven.
They don’t fuck around when it comes to traitors.
And God’s judgment is mysterious in its own way.
[HAEC INFORMATIO A PUBLICO USU SECRETA EST. QUAESO, UNITATEM AUCTORISATIONIS OVERWATCH PETE. NOVUS ORDO AETATUM ADVENIET]
The war room deep within the I.R.A.'s underground stronghold buzzed with a rather tense atmosphere. Harsh fluorescent lights cast stark shadows across the massive tactical table that dominated the center of the chamber, its surface covered with detailed maps of New Limbo City. Red markers and lines indicated I.R.A. controlled territories, blue showed Ars Colonia’s territories, and yellow pins marked contested zones where blood had been spilled daily for months.
Strategic assault plans were spread across the table, supply lines marked, and contingency routes highlighted in various colors. The map told the constant stories of Outer Limbo being a warzone, where every line move could mean the difference between victory and annihilation.
Around the table stood the core leadership of the Infernal Revolutionary Army, their faces grim with the weight of recent developments. At the head of the table, maintaining an aura of controlled authority despite the chaos brewing around her, stood Moxxara, her small stature belied by the commanding presence that had earned her the loyalty of revolutionaries across the Pride Ring.
Although not getting young, she was in her prime in a way. I.R.A only became successful because of strategy and her experience by being an ex-Legatus of Satan’s Legion. The scars that decorated her arms told stories of battles fought when the current generation of I.R.A. members were barely spawned. As a former Legatus of Hell's military, she had learned to channel rage into calculated precision, a skill that served her well in her current role as the I.R.A.'s strategic commander.
And that is when some fucking bullshit happens in her inner circle, she gets...mildly annoyed.
Across from her, Captain Meridiana paced like a caged predator, twisted with barely contained fury. Her I.R.A. uniform was still stained with gunpowder residue and blood spatter from the depot operation, testament to the violence that had erupted mere hours earlier. Her boots clicked against the concrete floor with each agitated step, creating a staccato rhythm that matched her elevated pulse.
"You have to understand the reality we're facing, comrade Moxxara!" Meridiana's voice rose to near-shouting levels, her hands gesturing wildly. "The Sixth Street leadership was compromised from the beginning! They would have sold us out to Militech the moment they received a better offer!"
Several other I.R.A. officers shifted uncomfortably around the table, their eyes moving between their pacing captain and their leader. Moxxara remained perfectly still throughout the tirade, neutral as stone. Only the slight tightening around her eyes betrayed any reaction to Meridiana's increasingly emotional display.
"I am not angry about how you handled the Sixth Street Gang. They are expendable, and elimination of their leader serves our interests..." Moxxara's tone was measured, hands moving to rest on the table's edge as she leaned forward. "What concerns me is that you are actively disrupting Rev-Captain Amy's own advances in New Limbo. Your interference is hurting the I.R.A. more than it's hurting our enemies."
"With all due respect, it should have been me managing New Limbo operations from the beginning!" Meridiana's eyes flashed with indignation, twisting into disgust that Moxxara is on Amy's side. "I know the criminal elements of that city like the back of my hand. Every black market dealer, every corrupt official who can be bought or intimidated. I could have orchestrated mob riots that would have crippled Barbatos' rule! Instead, you chose Amy for this assignment. A fucking Goetia demon who treats every operation like a personal chess game and makes long decisions! We could have conquered New Limbo three months ago!"
"Once again, Meri." Moxxara's annoyed look remained impassive, but her knuckles cracked slightly when they gripped the table's edge. "I selected Amy for New Limbo because she is a Goetia Demon in the first place. YOU, on the other hand, would not have survived even an hour with Goetia Nobility all around you. This is not simply a matter of organizing street violence, Captain."
"Yes, slice the head, and the body falls off, how old school of you." Meridiana's laugh was sharp and bitter. "Let me guess, is this why you’re an sellout? Calling collaboration with Heaven's agents? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've gotten far too comfortable working with those angelic bastards."
“And what would you have done in my place?” Moxxara narrowed her eyes, somewhat expecting this.
“Simple, tell them to fuck off. Angels be angels: a vermine to this universe.”
And just in time, the heavy metal doors of the war room suddenly swung open with a pneumatic hiss. Two (three if including cloaked drone) figures entered the chamber. Eve's eyes swept across the war table room, but she didn't say anything. Behind her, Lieutenant Rönne followed the Agent, taking a stance as to be a "muscle and enforcer" of Heaven's interests in here. And of course, J remained invincible, ready to serve Eye of Providence when needed.
"It's not particularly nice for the I.R.A. to disrespect their allies like that," Eve commented with politeness, though it made several officers tense. "Especially when those allies have just provided you with exactly the intelligence and equipment you requested."
Meridiana darkened immediately, her hands clenching into fists as she turned to face the newcomers. The succubus's natural hostility toward Heaven's agents flared to life.
"Fuck off, you fucking pigeon. Your parasites in the clouds are just using us for your own gain while the I.R.A. fights for the liberty of demonkind!"
"Meridiana. Stop it now." Moxxara's voice cut through, sharp and absolute. She had seen too many alliances shatter over personal grievances and ideological purity to let this confrontation spiral beyond control.
"Comrade Moxxara..." Meridiana began, still heated but showing the first signs of restraint.
"That was not a request, Captain," Moxxara replied with deadly calm, her eyes never leaving Meridiana's own. "It was an order."
Other I.R.A. officers found themselves caught between their loyalty to their captain or to their current leader. Some of them agreed with Meridiana, others were pragmatic, like Moxxara is. The way less collaborative I.R.A officer’s stares made even Rönne's own hand move closer to his revolver, though he remained professionally neutral.
Meridiana would grumble but comply in the end. Seeing that she calmed down, Moxxara would direct her anntetntion now that more or less things became less heated.
"My apologize for that, Agent Genesis and Lieutenant Deadeye..." Moxxara began, now focusing on their...allies. "But I requested your presence here to discuss the current events that has shifted dramatically in our favor."
She gestured toward a section of the map where several red pins had been recently moved, clustering around what appeared to be “compromises collaborative assets” in New Limbo City. Seems like I.R.A is planning to capture street by street for this large-scale operation.
"Rev-Captain Amy's acquisition of military-grade explosives has advanced our plan to takeover New Limbo." Moxxara continued, her finger tracing the locations marked on the map. "Once Duke Focalor and Barbatos are out of picture, all roads will now be open for the I.R.A. to launch our final assault on New Limbo."
The other I.R.A. officers around the table straightened slightly. This was clearly the moment they had been preparing for, the culmination of months and even years of guerrilla warfare.
Eve herself tracked the movements of Moxxara's finger across the map, remaining perfectly neutral as she processed what I.R.A plans. After a moment of silence, she crossed her arms and offered a slight shrug that somehow managed to convey both acknowledgment and skepticism.
"And you're saying this...because?" Eve purposely stops here with conversational politeness.
Moxxara's shoulders sagged almost , the subtle shift betraying that everything is perfect. She let out a long, weary sigh that spoke of decades spent navigating the treacherous waters of revolutionary politics and international intrigue.
"I want your insurance that Heaven's Intelligence Agency will cooperate with the I.R.A. once we establish Provisional Government of the Limbo Ring. That is exactly what I'm hoping for." The elderly imp's hands moved to clasp behind her back, reasserting itself despite the vulnerability of her words. "The I.R.A. has the strength to take New Limbo through force of arms, but we lack the resources to maintain stable governance afterward. We need allies who can provide legitimacy on the stage."
"Ah, an interesting proposition, friend. " Eve's smile remained perfectly professional. She stepped closer to the tactical table and tilted her head slightly. "But perhaps we should consider the inverse question first. Will the I.R.A. cooperate with Heaven?"
Every I.R.A. officer present looked at each other, expecting that topic to be brought up. At the end of the day, this wasn't about mutual cooperation between equals but about subordination to Heaven's broader strategic interests. Lieutenant Rönne maintained his position near the entrance, his hand still resting casually near his blessed revolver, always ready to act.
"Are you fucking serious?" Meridiana snarled, her voice rising to near-shouting levels as her barely contained hostility toward Heaven's agent exploded to the surface. "You want us to become your puppet government in Hell? To dance to Heaven's tune while pretending we're still fighting for demonic liberation? This is exactly what I was talking about! You parasites don't want allies! You want to use our revolution as another tool!"
"Captain Meridiana," Moxxara said quietly, reminding her to behave. "Be quiet, or there won't be a third time for you."
Meridiana just waved her hand off dismissively but cooperated. Moxxara watched her for a bit to make sure she would not do anything funny. Deep inside, she herself knew it would come to this. The revolution was never simply about overthrowing the old order, it was about navigating the complex web of temporary alliances and compromises necessary to build something sustainable in its place. Despite Meridiana's passionate outburst, Moxxara understood that pragmatism would ultimately determine the I.R.A.'s survival. They needed Heaven whether they liked it or not.
"Very well, Agent Genesis. What do you want from us?"
"To put it mildly. Heaven has very high expectations regarding any potential cooperation with revolutionary government in Hell."
"In other words, you want a treaty." Moxxara already knew what she meant. "Given the current situation, I'd prefer to hear Heaven's ultimatum now rather than discover the terms after we've already committed to this course of action."
"Very well, then. Heaven's demands are quite clear. First, we expect that the I.R.A.'s Hell will remain stable. No further revolutionary movements, no attempts to export your ideology to Earth or Heaven, and absolutely no interference with existing power structures beyond Hell, Purgatory included." Eve began counting off points on her fingers. "Second, the Ring of Limbo's Pre-War Government will be restored as an independent Ring separate from Pandemonium's direct authority, institutions included."
Captain Meridiana's sharp intake of breath was audible across the war room. Fucking bastards to this day.
"Third, Hell will forfeit any right to intervene in Exterminations or any of Heaven's business. And fourth, you will formally acknowledge that Heaven is the true ruler of the universe and Hell exists as a rogue state of Heaven with no legitimate claim for sovereignty."
Rönne glanced around at the I.R.A.'s officers; even he felt rather... a change of atmosphere. Most, if not all, stared at Eve with hatred. It's pretty clear that Moxxara is going to face major opposition if she agrees.
After a long moment of contemplative silence, the elderly imp straightened her shoulders and met Eve's gaze directly.
"I'm not necessarily opposed to some of your demands. The stability requirements, the isolation, even certain aspects of the Extermination non-interference, these are terms we could potentially work with." Moxxara said with the measured tone of someone accustomed to difficult negotiations in her life. Her hands then moved to rest on the tactical table's edge as she leaned forward slightly, her voice gaining a harder edge. "However, I completely reject the proposal that Limbo would be granted independence as a separate Ring, as it is absolutely unacceptable to the I.R.A.'s fundamental principles. But I'm willing to compromise as an act of goodwill to Heaven. Limbo remains part of Hell's sovereign territory, but we will grant the Ring full autonomy in its affairs. Additionally, we will accept complete isolation. No interference onto Earth, no expansionist tendencies, no revolutionary export."
"Cute, really cute. But the rest of Heaven will not agree to any arrangement that leaves Limbo under Hell's direct sovereignty. And of course, these four demands are non-negotiable under any circumstances. Either you agree or decline. But under the Covenant, Hell would benefit tremendously from aligning with Heaven's goal. We offer the same protection just like Earth has, access to certain resources that have been restricted since the original rebellion...you name it."
"There it is!" Meridiana snarled, her voice rising to near-shouting levels as she jabbed an accusatory finger toward Eve. "You're trying to rip apart the Land of Fire because it's strategically beneficial to Heaven! You don't give a shit about stability or peace! You want to carve up Hell into protectorates that you can control separately! Divide and conquer as in the oldest strategy in the fucking book! Keep Hell fractured and weak by turning our Rings against each other!"
"Captain Meridiana is correct, Agent." Moxxara let her voice be known. For the first time since the negotiation began, she found herself in agreement with her volatile captain. "The I.R.A. seeks to establish an equal and united Inferno. Our revolutionary principles are founded on the unity of all demonic peoples under a single, legitimate government. We will not accept any arrangement that fragments Hell's territorial integrity, regardless of the supposed benefits offered in exchange."
"Your record shows that you are too unpredictable and destructive to our goals. We're not going to make the same mistake since 1920, Moxxara. You and your band of rebels are playing with fire by rejecting Heaven's reasonable demands. The consequences of such shortsighted defiance tend to be... judgmental, if you forgive my manner."
"Again, we're not interested in Heaven's destruction at all, unlike our mutual enemy. Either you agree to United Hell or you will find an unwilling partner in Universal Alliance for peace."
"Is that a threat, Moxxara?" Eve simply said.
"No...more like an objection from an ally to an ally. We don't appreciate this plain attempt at bullying us into submission."
Nothing good came out of it. Eve's eyes narrowed, observing Moxxara and questioning whether the elderly imp will be a manageable problem or a genuine threat to Heaven's broader goals in Hell. Moxxara's own gaze had sharpened with similar intensity, her decades of being a Legatus of Satan's Legion allow her to recognize the shift from ultimatum pressure to active threat. She betrayed nothing, but her stance suggested readiness for whatever escalation might follow this breakdown in negotiations. In the end, Hell is what's important to her...if Heaven walks away...then so be it.
The other I.R.A. officers shifted uncomfortably in the oppressive silence, caught between their loyalty to their commander and their awareness that they were witnessing the potential collapse of an alliance that had seemed crucial to their survival. Even Lieutenant Rönne's hand had moved fractionally closer to his blessed revolver, J too, was ready with her blade.
"Nest, this is Red 7. Mission parameters have been successfully executed. Package is in position and ready for deployment."
Just as the silence threatened to stretch beyond the breaking point, a sharp tone emitted from one of the radios.
"Commander!" The I.R.A. communications operator, a nervous-looking imp named Vex, called out from his station. "Priority One communication incoming. Encrypted channel seven. It's Red 7. Rev-Captain Amy is calling in from New Limbo City."
The interruption shattered the dangerous standoff between Eve and Moxxara, forcing both women to step back from the precipice of open confrontation. The timing was fortunate as Moxxara shifted her priorities.
"Put her through." Moxxara shifted immediately from hostility to attention, prioritizing her own goals over personal conflicts.
Vex's fingers danced across the control panel, activating multiple layers of encryption and scrambling protocols. The console's display showed a series of green lights as the secure connection established itself across the Limbo landscape between the underground stronghold and New Limbo City, courtesy of their spy network in New Limbo.
"Connection secured, Commander. Channel is clean," Vex reported, handing Moxxara the headset.
Moxxara positioned the headset, adjusting the microphone close to her lips. Around the war room, every officer strained to hear what might be said. Eve and her companions maintained their positions but watched with obvious interest.
"Acknowledged, Red 7. Confirmation requested on timeline," Moxxara spoke into the microphone.
Static filled the brief pause before Amy's voice came through, distorted by layers of encryption but still clearly recognizable to those who knew her well. The quality was crystal clear through the secure channel, every word precisely articulated despite the technological barriers between them.
"Timeline unchanged. Detonation will occur during the departure, as planned," Came Amy's response. "The target will be completely eliminated, along with any potential complications in the immediate vicinity."
Captain Meridiana stopped her agitated pacing, her attention now completely focused on the conversation taking place at the communications console. Despite her earlier outburst about Amy's methods, she recognized the critical importance of this particular event to their overall objectives.
"Any complications?" Moxxara inquired.
"Negative," Amy's voice carried the faintest hint of satisfaction even through the encryption. "Infiltration proceeded without incident. No witnesses. The device is secure and undetectable. My cover remains intact."
"And what of our potential... complications? Any sign of interference from known parties?" Moxxara asked, her eyes unconsciously moving toward Eve, who continued to observe the proceedings with keen interest.
There was a brief pause before Amy responded.
"All potential obstacles have been neutralized or diverted. Phenex remains focused on her own schemes, and our little owl is exactly where we need her to be. As for the other players..." Another pause, more deliberate this time. "Let's just say that those who might have guessed at our intentions have been silenced. Permanently."
Several I.R.A. officers exchanged glances. Amy's "the little owl" comment clearly meant Octavia, who is here now.
"Excellent work, Red 7," Moxxara responded with genuine satisfaction. "Maintain your cover and continue operations as established. The oppressors must not suspect anything until it's too late to prevent our objectives from being achieved."
"And the next phase?" Amy's voice betrayed a hint of impatience. The only crack in her otherwise perfect calm.
Moxxara glanced around the war room, taking in the faces of her assembled officers and the tactical maps spread across the table. The next phase would depend heavily on how the current political situation resolved itself, but certain elements could proceed regardless of diplomatic complications.
"Proceed as planned. Continue to maintain your position and gather intelligence. The revolution requires patience, Comrade," Moxxara replied, falling back on the standard revolutionary rhetoric that had sustained the I.R.A. through years of underground warfare.
"Understood, Nest. Red 7 out."
The connection terminated with a soft electronic click, leaving the war room in a silence. Moxxara removed the headset and handed it back to Vex. Captain Meridiana was the first to break the silence with a grudging respect that she rarely showed toward Amy.
"So, the Goetia bitch actually managed to pull it off," she said, her tone suggesting surprise despite her usual confidence in I.R.A. capabilities.
"Five years of careful blending in, Rev-Captain. Don’t you forget that." Moxxara reminded, returning to her position at the tactical table. "With Red 7 advancing our plans, we move to the next phase immediately. I'm ordering the 2nd and 3rd Army Regiments to begin their advance on New Limbo City. All units will move to predetermined staging areas within the next six hours."
Some of the I.R.A. officers around the table responded with salutes and quickly scrambled away to make Moxxara's orders commence. Even Captain Meridiana's agitated pacing came to an abrupt halt, her eyes lighting up with the prospect of open warfare. It’s been too long since she personally led the armies of I.R.A.
"Then let us not mingle for any second." Meridiana said with genuine enthusiasm for the first time since the meeting began. "With Duke Barbatos and Focalor soon to be eliminated. New Limbo's defenses will be in complete disarray. If we lucky, we can take the entire city before they have time to reorganize their forces."
"Correct, Captain." Moxxara nodded in agreement, but her gaze moved deliberately toward Eve and Lieutenant Rönne, acknowledging the elephant in the room that could not be ignored. "However, given the current... complexity of our situation, I believe we must postpone our mutual disagreements in favor of dealing with our common enemy. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as the old human saying goes."
Eve had remained silent throughout Moxxara's announcement, but now she stepped forward. For a long moment, she simply stared at Moxxara, her eyes seeming to peer directly into the elderly imp's soul as she considered the strategic value of cooperation against the risks of enabling Hell's revolutionary forces. The silence stretched uncomfortably long, but eventually, Eve gave her verdict.
"Very well, the I.R.A. will have full control over how you will handle their operation. Heaven will not interfere with your military planning." She paused, becoming more pointed. "However, I do have one demand regarding coordination."
Moxxara's posture remained rigid, but she gestured for Eve to continue, recognizing that some form of concession would be necessary to maintain even this temporary alliance.
"I require that the I.R.A. send their complete assault plans to the Eye of Providence's encrypted channel. Troop numbers, timing, strategic objectives: everything. We need to ensure that our...mutual goals don't interfere with each other. And before you ask, no, it's not our real primary channel, so don't even try to mess with Providence."
Lieutenant Deadeye shifted slightly at this request, his hand moving away from his revolver as he recognized that the situation was moving toward cooperation rather than confrontation. The invisible presence of J seemed to relax as well, though the cloaked drone remained ready for any sudden changes in the tactical situation.
Moxxara considered this request for several moments. On one hand, it would bee a gesture for I.R.A to share it and show to Heaven they can work with them. On the other hand...you can't really trust an Heaven with their honesty. When it comes to demons, Heaven will surely will try to fuck with them to gain the upper hand. Exterminations before were a prime example.
"Acceptable demand. We'll provide the requested intelligence within the hour." Moxxara replied finally; she turned toward one of the senior I.R.A. officers standing near the communications console, a hellhound named Korven. "Major Korven, coordinate with Vex to compile our complete assault plans."
"Yes, mam!" Korven responded with a crisp salute, already moving toward the communications station where Vex was preparing the necessary equipment for the intelligence transfer.
Eve observed Major Korven with detached interest, betraying nothing of her thoughts regarding the revolutionary forces she had just agreed to coordinate with.
But even in her own surprise, two of the rebels quickly gathered up everything Eve wanted into a little usb stick and handed it over to Eve. Eve would insert it into her own "heavenphone like" device to check the contents in order to see if they honored it or not. Turns out they did and Eve put her phone away with a nod that their business was done.
"The Eye of Providence appreciates the collaboration, I.R.A." Eve stepped back from the tactical table, adjusting her gloves as she was about to leave. "I won't bother you any further with your... war games. I have other matters to attend to."
She turned toward the exit, clearly intending to leave the I.R.A. to their preparations, but Lieutenant Rönne's voice stopped her mid-step.
"Agent Genesis, what about the Goetia girl? Octavia?" Rönne called out with an unusual note of urgency that made several I.R.A. officers look up from their planning.
"Ah, right. Her." Eve paused, her hand freezing just short of the button to open the door. "And you're asking because?"
"I made an promise that she will come back home. I don't know if she believed me but...I really don't want to break that promise to her."
"I see..." Eve murmured, understanding his point of view as the lieutenant's concern was evident. Ultimately, she was on Heaven's side and, in turn...Rönne's colleague. It’s not really Eve’s business, but she will do it for him.
"I must thank our Lieutenant for he reminded me of another...important matter of fact.” Eve turned back toward Moxxara with renewed business manner. “The Eye of Providence will also be taking Octavia Goetia into our own custody instead of leaving her with the I.R.A. The girl requires... protection given her potential value as a political asset."
"Absolutely not, agent." Moxxara's reaction was immediate and decisive. "The Goetia girl is too valuable. She will be a great bargaining tool, and we will not surrender that advantage to Heaven. Furthermore, Rev-Captain Amy has specifically requested that Octavia remain in I.R.A. custody for her own operational reasons. Amy has sacrificed five years of her life for this revolution, and I will not override her judgment on matters related to her mission. So no, Octavia will remain under I.R.A. custody. Once Amy has what she wants, then we can discuss giving the girl to you..."
Eve's eyes narrowed as she processed this, clearly understanding why I.R.A is very insistent. One good example of typical "give me money or she will die" blackmail was everything Eve needed to understand their motivation....although whenever they will plan to "make an example of her" is a good question. Ars Goetia is, after all, an I.R.A's ultimate nemesis of their own beliefs and goals.
"Very well," Eve slowly nodded her head in acknowledgment, much to Rönne's disappointment. "The girl remains with the I.R.A. for now. But I expect her to be treated well."
"I can't make promises about how we will handle our POW's...but she will remain untouched until Amy is done with her."
"Better than nothing, Moxxara." Eve nodded, appreciating the honesty. With that concession made, she gestured toward Lieutenant Rönne and the invisible J that their business in the war room had concluded. The three Heaven representatives moved toward the exit. As she reached the heavy metal doors, Eve paused and looked back over her shoulder at the assembled I.R.A. leadership.
"Good luck with your socialist revolution, comrades," Eve said her goodbyes in a polite way, making Meridiana roll her eyes from that comment.
The heavy doors swung shut behind them, leaving the I.R.A. leadership alone in their underground stronghold. For a moment, the war room fell into silence before it was shattered by Captain Meridiana's explosive accusation.
"Fuck you, Moxxara. You sold us out!" She snarled, whirling to face Moxxara.
"...What?" Moxxara, too, felt a boil from Meridiana's accusation for today, facing her directly.
"You just handed over our entire plans to those angelic parasites! Years of planning, and you give it all away for the promise of temporary cooperation!"
Moxxara's response was swift and brutal. Her leg swept forward in a devastating kick that caught Meridiana squarely in the chest, sending the succubus captain stumbling backward. Meridiana crashed to her knees, hands instinctively moving to her chest where the impact had driven the breath from her lungs. The other I.R.A. officers stepped back instinctively, recognizing that their commander had reached the absolute limit of her patience with insubordination.
Before Meridiana could recover, Moxxara's hands seized Meridiana's horns in an iron grip, forcing the succubus to look directly into her face.
"I am getting tired of your radicalism, Captain! The last thing the I.R.A. needs is even more fracturing due to differences. We have enemies enough without creating more through internal discord." Her grip tightened on Meridiana's horns, making the succubus wince despite her attempts to maintain defiance. "I don’t give a flying crumb for what you think. You will fall in line, or you will be replaced! The revolution is bigger than your personal grievances, and I will not allow your radical purity to destroy what we have built. So will you comply, or should I make a new pair of boots from your skin?!"
"Y-yes, yes. Just let me go!"
"Good!” Satisfied, she released her grip on Meridiana's horns and stepped back, returning to her usual calm and collected state. One of the rare examples of pure rage control among Satan's legionaries.
"Now then, Meridiana. If you so wish to seek glory and to humiliate, then perhaps you will be so welcome to show it in New Limbo. Gear up and take command of the 2nd and 3rd Regiments for the final siege of New Limbo City."
"Understood, Comrade Moxxara..." Meridiana slowly pushed herself back to her feet, her chest still aching from the brutal kick she had received. Despite the physical pain and public humiliation, her eyes burned with barely contained fury as she glared at her commander. The succubus captain's hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she maintained enough self-control to avoid another confrontation that would likely end her career...or her life.
"Dismissed then." Moxxara replied curtly, turning her attention back to the tactical maps as if the violent confrontation had never occurred.
Meridiana shot one final death glare at her superior before spinning on her heel and stalking toward the exit. The other I.R.A. officers carefully avoided making eye contact as she passed, recognizing the dangerous mood that radiated from their humiliated captain. Several of them exchanged nervous glances, clearly shaken by the brutal display of internal factionalism they had just witnessed.
"The rest of you, continue with usual coordination with various cells in Inner Limbo." Moxxara commanded without looking up from the maps. "I want updates on Cadian front and supply requirements on my desk within the hour. That will be all for our meeting. Glory to Demon's Republic of Inferno."
"Glory to I.R.A!" The remaining officers responded with salutes before dispersing to their various duties, leaving Moxxara once more standing at the tactical table, her hands resting on its edge as she stared down at the maps of New Limbo City and alone with her thoughts.
Even when I.R.A was founded, she knew the risks by allying with the rather...controversial afterlife that Heaven was for Hell. The successful coordination with them did bring victories but also exposed deep philosophical divisions that could no longer be ignored or suppressed through displays of authority. Some of her officers, like Meridiana, viewed any cooperation with Heaven as a fundamental betrayal of revolutionary principles. Others recognized the pragmatic necessity of temporary alliances to achieve their broader objectives.
At the same time, Moxxara knew she was getting weak. Even she showed signs of the strain she had been carrying for months. She is not getting younger by the day, and nor is she the same Legatus who conquered Limbo for Satan. Her authority had never been more shaken than it was now, with ideological fractures threatening to tear apart the movement she had helped build from the ground up. Meridiana's radicalism was just one symptom of a larger problem that was growing more dangerous by the day. And with not many years left for her, Moxxara will have to make sure to stop that growing dissent sooner or later, either trough reforms...
The problem was becoming more acute with each passing day, and Moxxara knew that internal discord could prove more dangerous to the revolution than any external enemy. She needed someone who could mend the factionalism in favor of fake unity but still unity nonetheless. Her fingers drummed against the tactical table's surface as she considered her limited options. Most of her trusted contacts were either too radical or too compromised to serve as effective intermediaries. What she needed was someone with knowledge of both Heaven's power structure and Hell's political elite...someone who understood the delicate art of diplomatic manipulation.
...
Of course it has to be him...
"Damn it all," Moxxara muttered under her breath as she straightened her shoulders and moved toward the secure communications console. "Vex, I need you to establish a secure channel to "The Mole".
"What for, comrade Moxxara?" Vex already began working to establish a channel with their most important base for I.R.A: The Mole.
"I have to make a call to that wretched little snake."
[HAEC INFORMATIO A PUBLICO USU SECRETA EST. QUAESO, UNITATEM AUCTORISATIONIS OVERWATCH PETE. NOVUS ORDO AETATUM ADVENIET]
The landing hangar stretched out before them like a cathedral of steel and shadow, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into darkness high overhead. Harsh industrial lighting cast long shadows between the rows of military helicopters, rotors folded. The air thrummed with the constant vibration of idling engines and the distant hum of maintenance work.
The Trio of Heaven's "Order Enforcers" made their way towards the specific platform. Eve's time in Limbo Ring is officially over for her, as she has many more problems than just with I.R.A. Lieutenant Deadeye matched her pace, taking on the role of bodyguard as per usual. The invisible J moved alongside them, detectable only by the occasional disturbance in the air.
They passed several I.R.A. technicians performing maintenance on the aircraft, their tools sparking occasionally as they worked to keep the aging helicopters and some of the "gifted" ones operational. The mechanics glanced up briefly at them as they walked by, obviously curious but preferring not to ask out of...fear, really. Angels are really unpredictable beings to demons.
Once they were far away from most, Rönne would then ask, wanting to let his concerns out.
"I was hoping you would push harder on them to give up miss Octavia."
"So am I." Eve agreed. "But I saw in Moxxara it was rather... personal for them. They were already irritated enough that I had no doubt you and I would have left with a boot kick on the exit if I persisted. As of right now, remain calm and let us do the work to get Octavia to our custody."
"I hope so your people will come up with something, for I see no other way than force them on a good point.”
“Could be an option too.” Eve smirked.
“You don’t trust them much, agent?”
“Heaven doesn’t trust anyone that easily.”
“So you believe the I.R.A. will betray us once their goals are achieved?"
"I have absolutely no doubt that they will betray us." Eve's stride never faltered, but her neutral look shifted slightly as she considered the question. E.O.P's experience with revolutionary movements across the multiple realms had taught her to recognize certain patterns of behavior. "They suffer from the same fundamental problem as every rebel guerrilla on Earth, they define themselves primarily through opposition rather than construction."
"But that would be strategically stupid for them," Rönne argued, his manner suggesting genuine confusion about the I.R.A.'s potential motivations. "They need our resources and to maintain control over whatever territory they manage to capture. Betraying Heaven would leave them isolated and vulnerable."
"Perhaps you're right that it would be stupid. But you must remember that the I.R.A. has rather... far-left leaning views if using our terms. They view permanent revolution as a virtue rather than a solution. In turn, if the state doesn't have enemies, it will create them...as everyone has a different opinion as to what "revolution" truly meant. Thus, revolutionary states require constant conflict to maintain their ideological purity and internal cohesion. Once they've defeated their external enemies, they inevitably turn on their former allies to justify their continued existence."
"So...basically the Soviets during the 20th century?" Rönne assumed as the first thought came to him.
"I really doubt that I.R.A will attempt to create a "Union of Socialist Soviet Rings" here on Hell, really. They're very incoherent in what they want."
"I see..." Rönne slowly nodded, seeing the picture much clear. "And that's why you sent our Samurai alone?"
"What gave it away?" Eve asked, amused, if he will be available to see her through.
"Well, you and E.O.P don't want both sides to gain the upper hand in a fight, right? Just as Ars Colonia is preparing their defense of New Limbo, suddenly there's a major revelation: Exorcists are involved. Like a domino effect, those who were at Macrhosias would alert the Governor of New Limbo. Of course, questions about where Octavia currently is would come, and unless you...didn't leak the information of this base, would retaliate to rescue her."
"Very perceptive, Lieutenant Deadeye." Eve's slightest upturn at the corner of her mouth suggested satisfaction that her lieutenant had connected the dots. "But you're correct in some capacity. The Eye of Providence and E.N.C.L.A.V.E.as well have learned from their conflict that the most effective strategy is ensuring neither side gains too significant an advantage. We provide just enough support to keep the balance precarious. So while we're cooperating with the I.R.A., we're simultaneously ensuring that Hell's traditional power structure isn't completely demolished. Keep both sides weak enough that neither can threaten Heaven's broader interests."
"But in turn...supporting The Limbo Government's own interests to restore the old Government..."
"Now you're thinking like a proper intelligence operative," Eve said with something approaching warmth in her voice. "Don't forget Limbo Ring is part of Covenant, Lieutenant. Even YOU and your entire Order belong to the Limbo Ring. But since Limbo and Heaven are under the "Covenant", you and I are the same: servants of God's will and its creation."
"I understand...it's just Limbo's Pre-War Government is... well, I get ' strange vibes' with them." Rönne eerily said.
"Not seeking to restore your old home, huh?" Eve smirked.
"Well, technically yours too, ma'am. Since...you know.” Rönne tried to find proper words to not sound like he is having doubts. “Again, I'm just an Exorcist and frankly, my opinion isn't that important."
"You're entitled to your opinion, Lieutenant. At the end of the day, I'm just one agent of many, all upholding Heaven's interests for Peace and Order in this...crazy universe."
As they rounded a corner between two massive aircraft, three figures came into view near a staging area marked with Heaven's insignia. Even from a distance, Rönne recognized his squad members. They stood in a loose formation, their various weapons and equipment scattered around them in the organized chaos that marked the end of a successful operation.
Both Fiddle and Exorcist Lonestar were chatting between themselves. And thankfully, cleaning his katana with methodical strokes, was Exorcist "Samurai." His helmet rested on a nearby crate. Blood, clearly not his own, still stained portions of his armor, remainder the violence that had occurred at Marchosias Castle.
"Gentlemen," Eve called out as they approached, her voice carrying easily across the hangar floor. "I trust your evening's work was... productive?"
The three Exorcists straightened immediately, their casual postures shifting to respectful attention. Only Samurai continued his blade maintenance but inclined his head respectfully.
"Agent Genesis, good to see you made it out of that wretched snake pit in one piece." Fiddle saluted proudly.
"I appreciate your ass- kissing, Exorcist Fiddle. But thanks, really. The I.R.A. proved more... diplomatic than expected," Eve replied with dry humor. "But I'm more interested in hearing about your activities. Exorcist Samurai, how did your..."visit" at Marchosias Castle proceed?"
"The mission proceeded as you requested, Agent Genesis." Samurai paused in sharpening his katana, his eyes meeting Eve’s. "I created sufficient chaos and drew the attention of their entire garrison."
"And the primary target?" Eve inquired, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
"Prince Gaap proved more elusive than anticipated," Samurai admitted with the slightest frustration. "I had a clear shot with the bow, but the situation became... complicated when civilians were present. The arrow found an unintended target instead."
"Civilians?" Rönne's jaw tightened slightly.
"A Goetia bird demon. Not a combatant. She was in the crossfire between myself and Prince Gaap. The wound was non-fatal so I don't have any doubt she survived."
"And your extraction?" Eve pressed, showing no visible reaction to the mention of civilian casualties.
"Initially successful, though not without complications." Samurai's hand moved unconsciously to a small dent in his armor where Hati's claws had found purchase. "One of the hellhounds proved more determined than expected. When faced with certain death, he chose to drag me from the balcony rather than preserve his own life. The fall was... educational."
"Hellhounds don't usually go for suicide tactics. Must have been protecting something important." Lonestar let out a low whistle.
"Or someone..." Fiddle added, her eyes narrowing slightly. "They're typical pack animals. Probably saw his family or closest ones getting threatened."
"But your assignment was achieved regardless, Agent." Samurai continued, resuming his blade sharpening. "I made enough noise for them to act."
"Excellent work then." Eve nodded approvingly. "You delivered exactly what the E.N.C.L.A.V.E wanted from us."
"Speaking of which. What are our next orders, Agent Genesis?" Fiddle asked, making J make an adorable moan from this. A little Exorcist girl tries to show off to her superiors in any way possible. How cute.
Eve glanced around the hangar, checking for any I.R.A. personnel who might be within earshot. The nearest mechanics were focused on their work, their attention absorbed by machinery they were repairing. Satisfied that they had sufficient privacy, she stepped closer to the group, her voice dropping to a tone that demanded absolute attention.
"Despite all the diplomatic theater, your primary mission remains unchanged, Deadeye." Her gaze fixed on Rönne before shifting to Samurai. "The elimination of Prince Gaap is still your highest priority. Samurai Miu, your failure to complete the task at Marchosias Castle simply means we must adjust our approach. Luckily for us, the opportunity will present itself quite soon. I fully expect this facility to come under attack within the next several hours. When they arrive, and they will arrive, Prince Gaap will likely be here."
"How so?" Fiddle wondered.
"Because Goetia nobility has an unfortunate tendency toward personal vendettas and ' I told you so' sneering. In other words, if Octavia is here, then Gaap will come to make fun of her that he was in the right all along."
"Oh, jeez. That sounds like literally a school environment." Lonestar shook his head, speaking from experience.
"Ars Goetia is a Children School, one can argue. Just with more backstabbing than bullying or shoving someone into a locker. But considering how petty they are, I believe they've done that." Eve sarcastically remarked to break the boredom. She is much rather busy waiting for her gunship to arrive.
"Ma'am, if we're expecting incoming hostiles, shouldn't we be calling for reinforcements? This ain't exactly a heavily fortified position." Fiddle's visory eyebrows rose on her mask.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, sweetheart." Eve's expression shifted, becoming more formal as she prepared to deliver information that would clearly be unwelcome. "New orders for you, Lonestar and Fiddle. Your evaluation period has concluded successfully. You are being reassigned effective immediately."
"Reassigned? Ma'am, with respect, we're in the middle of an active operation. This seems like poor timing for personnel changes. Plus, Lieutenant Deadeye-"
"This order is not my decision to make. This order came from Aclima herself. Non-negotiable."
Fiddle's demeanor evaporated instantly, replaced by the rigid posture of a soldier hearing commands from the supreme commander of Heaven's forces. Lonestar's hands fell away from his weapons, any thought of protest dying before it could be voiced.
"Grandmaster Aclima herself?" Fiddle asked with barely concealed anxiety, followed by her nervously swallowing. This means she will work with Lady Lute herself from now on.
"Yes, Aclima orders all Exorcists outside of E.O.P command to report immediately. As for your test, you've performed your duties adequately. If anything, you will have a chance to make impressions on Lady Lute with Lieutenant Harper and on Lord Joseph Smith with Lieutenant "Abolitionist" Eve said, though her tone suggested there were layers of meaning she wasn't sharing.
"And trust me, kid" Rönne smirked at Lonestar, not bothered that his squad was being pulled from him. Happens quite often in Exorcist Order. "Even if I can vouch for you for your good skills, Lieutenant Abolitionist" is my direct superior and it will take a lot of time for you to impress him. Oh, and don't take some of his ranting seriously. He is uhhh...bit a bit insane."
"How so, Lieutenant?” Exorcist LoneStar asked, confused by Deadeye’s choice of words.
"Just trust me, Lonestar."
"I'm on Deadeye's side here, Exorcist Lonestar." Eve shivered from that before going straight back to their previous topic. "Anyway, transport arrangements have already been made. You'll be departing with me back to Heaven."
And just in time. The distant rumble of approaching aircraft engines cut through the hangar's ambient noise, growing steadily louder. Rönne instinctively looked upward, though the hangar's ceiling obscured any view of the sky. The sound was different from the I.R.A.'s helicopters. More advanced, with the distinctive sound of Heaven's military technology.
The hangar's massive doors began to cycle open with a grinding protest, revealing the darkened sky beyond. Through the widening aperture, a craft descended with fluid grace. It was unmistakably a gunship, but its design spoke of technological sophistication far beyond anything the I.R.A. possessed. It had the distinctive insignia of The Enclave.
“Ah, right on schedule." Eve's expression shifted, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, glad that she was about to leave Ring of Limbo for a while.
The gunship settled onto the designated landing platform with the side door slid open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing the craft's dimly lit interior. From within the sophisticated cabin, a familiar figure rose from her seat. Turns out, The Secretary of the Outer Limbo stepped into the hangar, her expensive suit immaculate despite the journey. Her pale yellow eyes surveyed the assembled group.
"Agent Genesis," the Secretary called out easily across the hangar floor despite the ambient noise. "Your cavalry has arrived."
Rönne frowned upon seeing her, while The Secretary didn't even acknowledge the presence of the same Exorcists who "rescued" her. Eve held up a single finger in the Secretary's direction. The Secretary's eyebrows rose slightly at the casual dismissal, but she remained by the gunship's door, her hands clasped behind her back in a pose of enforced patience.
"One final thing about Octavia, Deadeye. Although the I.R.A. insists on keeping our marquise here, I have my doubts they would give her to our hands in the end. That’s why if an opportunity should arise to... requisition... certain assets from I.R.A. custody, you would have my blessing to pursue such an opportunity. However, I need to be absolutely clear about expectations regarding Miss Octavia. Should you succeed in "requisitioning" her, she must be made to understand that any arrangement with the E.O.P. requires complete compliance with us. Octavia Goetia has spent her entire life as nobility, accustomed to privilege and elitism. She will need to learn that in our world, cooperation isn't optional. I'm trusting you to ensure she understands this reality."
Samurai had stopped his blade maintenance entirely, even through his stoic demeanor, it was clear he understood the weight of what was being discussed. Eve wasn't just asking Rönne to secure Octavia's rescue, she was tasking him with breaking a young aristocrat's spirit sufficiently to make her a compliant intelligence asset. It was typical of Providence, but there is nothing he can do.
"Understood, Agent Genesis," Rönne replied, his voice carefully neutral.
From the gunship, the Secretary cleared her throat with deliberate emphasis, reminding them of her presence and her apparent impatience with being kept waiting. Eve turned toward the Secretary as to greet her colleague in The Heavenly Covenant.
"Thank you for your patience, Madam Secretary. I trust your journey was without incident?"
"Transportation arrangements in Limbo Pre-War days, as always, exemplary. Can’t say about the current state of my homering, though."The Secretary replied, offering a hand to get Eve up from the gunship, which she accepted.
With Eve getting inside, it was meant to say goodbyes for Deadeye’s squad. Lonestar stepped forward first as he extended a gloved hand toward Rönne. The gesture was formal, but there was genuine regret in his eyes behind his mask's LED display.
"Lieutenant Deadeye, I'm sorry we won't be able to finish hunting that pompous bird together. Would've been nice to see how a real Goetia prince bleeds."
Fiddle moved to join them, extending the hand in farewell.
"Hell of a thing, getting reassigned right when the action's about to heat up," she said, her usual bravado tempered with disappointment. "That Gaap bastard won't know what hit him when you and Samurai get your hands on him, but I sure would've liked to put spear between his fancy feathers myself."
"It's fine, both of you." Rönne clasped each of their hands in turn, the simple gesture showing battlefield camaraderie and shared understanding. Knight-Brothers and Sisters of Exorcism to the end. "Whatever Grandmaster Aclima has planned for you, I'm sure it's important work. You both are cappable Knights and I’m proud to had you under my command for a short while. Give my regards to Lieutenant Harper with Lady Lute and... well, try not to let Lieutenant Abolitionist drive you completely insane with his ranting."
"We'll do our best, sir," Lonestar chuckled, though there was nervous energy in his laugh. "Though from what you've told us about him, that might be the real challenge."
"Just remember, Lonestar." Fiddle added with a grin, "if he starts going on about whatever crusade he's on this week, you can always pretend your comm system is malfunctioning. Worked for me as a cadet."
The three Exorcists shared a moment of gallows humor, each knowing this might be the last time they saw each other alive. In their line of work, goodbyes were always potentially final. Lonestar and Fiddle then went to the gunship and climbed aboard the sleek craft and were already settling into their seats. The Secretary had taken a position near the front of the passenger compartment, smirking at them. It's her way of recognizing her saviors from before.
"Before I depart, I want to be absolutely clear about one thing." Eve said from her seat. “We never had this conversation. If anyone asks, you're simply two mercenaries who've decided to seek your fortune in this war."
"Aye-Aye" Rönne saluted. Samurai instead nodded.
"Then safe hunting, Exorcists. See you back at Heaven." Eve waved at them as she then reached the gunship's door, with the door sealed with a pneumatic hiss. Although he didn’t see it, invisible J presumably found her own position somewhere in the passenger compartment.
The gunship's engines reached full power. Landing lights illuminated the hangar floor as the craft began its vertical ascent. Within moments, it had disappeared through the hangar's massive doors, leaving only the fading sound of its passage and the acrid scent of propellants.
Rönne watched until the last traces of engine glow vanished into Hell's perpetually darkened sky, then turned to face Samurai Miu. The Japanese-inspired warrior had resumed his methodical blade maintenance, but his dark eyes held the same awareness that came with being abandoned in hostile territory.
"How's the katana holding up?"
Miu paused in his work, running a gloved finger along the edge of the blade with care.
"It's gotten a bit dull...it deflected some bullets during my... encounter with that Hellhound. Nothing catastrophic, but it could use a proper grindstone in the future."
Rönne hummed in acknowledgment, settling himself on a nearby crate with the weary posture of a soldier who had learned to find comfort in whatever seating presented itself. The metal surface was cold against his armor, but it provided a stable perch from which to survey their surroundings while keeping one eye on the hangar.
"So how did it really go at Marchosias Castle? I mean, beyond what you told Agent Genesis."
"Much as I reported," Samurai's hands never stopped their careful work on the blade, but his eyes met Rönne's briefly before returning to the steel. “I infiltrated the castle, created chaos to draw their entire garrison's attention, and had Prince Gaap in my sights with a clear shot from the bow. Should have been a clean elimination. But the hellhounds proved more... dedicated than anticipated." Miu's tone remained level, but there was an undercurrent of something that might have been respect for his opponent's determination. "I wish I could have ended Prince Gaap once and for all."
“You and I both even if we killed Gaap, we would be been babysitting I.R.A with their siege instead.”
“We still are...” Miu simply answered, unbothered by it. Patience is an technique for an samurai.
Rönne nodded with understanding, opting to just move on from the topic. He shifted on the crate, the metal creaking softly under his weight as he leaned forward slightly.
"You mentioned hitting a civilian in the crossfire. Some kind of bird demon, wasn't it? What did she look like?"
"White owl demon, I assume." Miu's blade work paused for a fraction of a second before resuming its steady rhythm. His eyes remained fixed on the steel, but there was a subtle tension in his shoulders that suggested the topic was not entirely comfortable. "Young, from what I could observe. Elegant features, typical of Goetia nobility. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time when Prince Gaap moved to avoid my shot."
"Olivia..." Rönne muttered, recognizing who he meant. "Of all the demons in Hell, it had to be her. Wrong place, wrong time doesn't even begin to cover it."
"You know this Olivia?" Miu asked. The katana rested across his knees, momentarily forgotten as he studied Rönne's reaction.
“She's a middlewoman, I guess. Between me and Phenex.” Rönne's shoulders sagged slightly, and he ran a gloved hand across his helmet's faceplate. "She survived a train crash not too long ago...seems she's survived your arrow as well."
"Looks can be deceiving," Miu nodded slowly, for he is sure Olivia survived. "Even the most noble-looking Goetia can possess a spirit stronger than their appearance suggests. Survival often reveals more about character than any amount of aristocratic breeding."
"Marquise Octavia's the same way from the looks of it," Rönne muttered. All his time with her proved she is very capable...and with strong, rebellious charisma too. “If you don’t know, Agent Genesis interrogated Miss Octavia earlier. Standard procedure, intelligence gathering, nothing unusual about that." He paused, his hands clenching and unclenching as he struggled with the implications. "But I didn't expect... I didn't know that Olivia and Octavia were lovers."
"Every soul clings to something or someone. It's what gives them purpose, what drives them to survive when logic suggests they should surrender. Rip that away from them, and they have no purpose left. They become hollow shells."
Rönne nodded slowly. Miu's words had struck something deep within him, awakening memories he usually kept buried beneath layers of professional duty and tactical focus. The hollow feeling that had consumed him after Aikaterine's death...that sense of purposelessness that had driven him to throw himself into increasingly dangerous missions suddenly made perfect sense in the context of Miu's philosophy.
He had been one of those hollow shells, hadn't he? Easier to manipulate to do Heaven’s bidding, to deploy on suicide missions, because what did he have left to lose? After his mother learned what his truly did...it only amplified that for him.
To avoid dwelling on thoughts that served no tactical purpose, Rönne looked up toward the hangar's vaulted ceiling, his gaze seeking the darkened sky beyond the massive doors, picturing Heaven in his mind. Although he never told FIddle and Lonestar, Rönne somewhat knew why they reassigned just out of nowhere.
"I feel like the time is right. If Aclima is gathering all the Exorcists back to Heaven, pulling them out of active operations... it means something big is coming. Something that requires all hands."
Miu's eyes followed Rönne's gaze upward, his expression thoughtful as he processed the implications. The katana remained still across his knees, forgotten for the moment as larger concerns occupied his attention.
"I expected it would come one day or another," Miu agreed with acceptance of someone who had long ago made peace with his own mortality. "With everything that's happened since the revelation about Heaven's true nature, with the way they've been sidelining us. It seems like we're being gathered for one last trial."
“Mhm...one last hurrah for the entire Order of Exorcists....and once more we find ourselves in the den of wolves with no backup. Just like that day in Dis City."
"Patterns sometimes repeat themselves, Lieutenant. Though the enemies change, the fundamental nature of our work remains constant."
"Yeah." Rönne sighed, looking around and opting to just...finish their break time for now. Too many eyes on them. "At any rate, we have our orders. Time will tell when you and I will come back home... if we come back home."
"We will. " Samurai Miu would get up from the crate, sheathing his katana back to his hilt. "Come on, some of the rebels need help with the training.”
“Never thought you were an altruist, Miu.” Rönne was first to begin his move, with Miu following behind.
“Warrior is a warrior. I honor everyone no matter what the colors they wear.”
Rönne only smirked at it, always appreciating straightforwardness from the Samurai. Around them, the I.R.A. hangar continued its routine operations, mechanics and technicians going about their duties with studied indifference to the two Exorcists in their midst. But Rönne could feel the weight of hostile attention, the subtle awareness that they were now truly alone among enemies who merely tolerated their presence for strategic convenience.
If anything, If Eve trully bellieves that Gaap will come to them...then so be it. They will gladly invite him here.
[HAEC INFORMATIO A PUBLICO USU SECRETA EST. QUAESO, UNITATEM AUCTORISATIONIS OVERWATCH PETE. NOVUS ORDO AETATUM ADVENIET]
The gunship's interior hummed with the steady vibration of advanced engines as it flew to the orbit of Heaven, towards the main command control center. Its sleek cabin a stark contrast to the grimy industrial hangar they'd left behind. Soft blue lighting illuminated plush seating arranged in a configuration that spoke of luxury and functionality. It's typical a mobile command center disguised as executive transport. The Secretary of the Outer Limbo settled into her preferred seat, staring at the ruins of Limbo's Capital City...and thank fuck she wasn't on the ground right now.
But that's not important. From a concealed compartment beside her seat, the Secretary produced an elegant bottle of wine, its label bearing the distinctive seal of Heaven's finest vineyards. She poured a measure of the burgundy liquid into two crystal glasses, the wine's rich aroma filling the recycled air with notes of celestial grapes and aged oak.
"Agent Genesis," The Secretary extended one of the glasses toward Eve with a gesture that managed to be both invitation and diplomatic courtesy beetween Ring of Limbo and Heaven. "Perhaps a toast to successful negotiations? I find that sharing a drink helps transition from field operations back to civilized discourse."
Eve regarded the offered glass with the same look she applied to everything else, eyes then moved from the wine to the Secretary's face."I appreciate the offer, Madam Secretary. But I prefer to maintain operational clarity until we've completed the full mission debrief. Perhaps another time, when the situation is less... tense."
"Always the professional one, huh?" The Secretary's eyebrows rose slightly at the polite refusal, but her expression remained neutral as she set the second glass aside. She took sip from her own glass, savoring the wine's complexity before laying it own. "Very well, Agent Genesis. Business before pleasure, as they say. I trust your infiltration of the I.R.A. facility proved... productive? The E.N.C.L.A.V.E. is most eager to understand the scope of their operational capabilities."
Without hesitation, Eve reached into her pocket and withdrew her Heavenphone, her fingers moved across the interface, navigating through multiple security layers until she reached the desired files. With a soft click, a small hard drive detached from the phone's side compartment. The device was no larger than say coin, but contained enough data storage to hold the complete operational plans. Eve held it for a moment, as if weighing its significance, before extending it toward the Secretary.
"Complete I.R.A. operational plans, supply chain logistics, personnel rosters, and facility blueprints. Everything the E.N.C.L.A.V.E. requested, plus additional intelligence on their command structure and internal political divisions. I trust this will be utilized wisely when the time comes for more... direct intervention."
The Secretary accepted the drive, her fingers closing around the small device as if it were a precious jewel. She smiled with satisfaction as she slipped it into a secured pocket of her suit jacket.
"The E.N.C.L.A.V.E. appreciates your thoroughness, Agent Genesis." The Secretary replied, her voice carrying the weight of organizational authority. "Rest assured, this intelligence will be instrumental in ensuring Limbo Ring's eventual restoration to proper governance."
"Remember that promise, Madam Secretary," Eve shifted slightly, a subtle hardening around her eyes that suggested the Secretary's words had touched on something important. She leaned back in her seat, her gaze fixed on the Secretary with the intensity of someone delivering a crucial message. "The Eye of Providence and Heaven itself expects those commitments to be honored in full in the name of Covenant."
"Of course, Agent Genesis," the Secretary replied smoothly. Her smile remained fixed, but something in her posture suggested she understood the warning implicit in Eve's words. "The Limbo Ring always honors its commitments towards the Covenant."
Eve nodded, though her expression suggested she would be watching carefully to ensure those words translated into action. Then, with the same casual authority she'd displayed throughout the operation, she turned toward an apparently empty section of the cabin.
"J, decloak yourself. You have another assignment."
"Assignment parameters, Agent Genesis?" The cloaking technology deactivated with a soft electronic hum, revealing the diminutive form of Disassembly Drone of "J" series once more.
Eve reached for her heavenphone, opening files tap to show an photograph from E.O.P's Overwatch databases.
"Serial Designation J-10X111001, meet our 'Compromised asset' named Exorcist VM-XXI-14: Codename 'Vaggie'...also known as 'Anticivil Number One' in certain intelligence files." Eve said, showing her the photograph for J to analyze it with her optical sensors. "I believe it's time for a more... personal introduction.
J's visor flickered as she processed the image, her advanced facial recognition systems creating a complete biometric profile in seconds. Cross-referencing with Overwatch's extensive databases, analyzing known associates, mapping probable locations, all occurring in the span of a few milliseconds.
"Target confirmed and catalogued, Agent." J reported with the same cheerful tone. "Shall I commence the "disassembly" of the asset?"
"No, J. Standard apprehension protocols." Eve confirmed, her slight uptight look suggested she expecting it not be an easy one. "Non-lethal force preferred, but use whatever methods necessary to ensure compliance. This particular target has a tendency toward... resistance. Take your Disassembly Drone Squad if necessary."
"With pleasure, Agent Genesis," J's visor displayed what might have been interpreted as excitement...if one could read emotion in the facial expressions of advanced military hardware. Her wings extended partially, servos whirring as they prepared for immediate deployment.
Without further ceremony, J moved toward the gunship's side door. Her clawed hands worked the manual override, the door sliding open to reveal the rushing wind and darkened landscape of Limbo Ring l far below. J's wings extended to their full span before she launched herself into the void without hesitation. Her form disappeared into the darkness within seconds, leaving only the sound of wind and the fading hum of her flight systems.
Exorcist Fiddle muttered something uncomplimentary about artificial intelligence before moving to close the door herself. The door sealed with a pneumatic hiss, restoring the cabin's previous atmosphere of controlled comfort.
"Isn’t AI a wonderful thing. huh?." The Secretary smirked. Those prototypes like 'J' are just beginning of Heaven's capabilities.
"From making fire with simple stone to this..." Eve sighed. If someone said that she would have a seen an "human" looking creature that wasn't created by God, she would have founded it funny and stupid.
But with J dispatched on her mission, first woman turned her attention to the final piece of her evening's work. Her Heavenphone emerged once again, its screen displaying the various communications interfaces available to someone with her level of access. But instead of accessing official channels, she navigated to a different section entirely...personal contacts synchronized from another device entirely.
With Octavia's phone.
The list that appeared on her screen was Octavia's personal info: every contact, every number, every personal connection stored in Octavia Goetia's personal phone. Eve scrolled through the entries with. Family members, college acquaintances, household staff, each entry told a story about Octavia's life and the people who mattered to her. Then she found what she was looking for: a contact simply listed as "Loona" with a phone number and several communication apps linked to the entry. The metadata suggested frequent contact-daily messages, regular calls.
"She will do just fine." Eve muttered, already typing the message.
"I.R.A. is growing reckless. Be quick if you want your friend saved. - Your Benefactor"
The message was perfect. Most importantly, it would drive Loona to action...exactly what Agent of E.O.P needed to ensure all the pieces fell into place. Once she sent this message, she would be setting in motion a chain of events. The choice of words would be crucial, enough to motivate action, but not so much as to reveal the true scope of Heaven's involvement. And although she didn't want to put two of Exorcists in danger, they all must understand the stakes of ever growing hostilities between Heaven and Hell.
The game was now in motion, and every piece was exactly where she needed it to be.
Hence...it was time.
*Message Was Sent*
And now...for this round, Eve has chosen a pawn for this chessboard game.
And that pawn Is Loona.
Notes:
And thus, we finally took a glance at Heaven's other notorious faction: The Eye Of Providence, A.K.A. Illuminati. It's going to be fun to write their shenanigans. Now, I will wait patiently for the moment for Heaven to invade Hell or some shit for demonic oil.
Chapter 42: Blessed By The Moon, His Vicar And Her Khan
Summary:
"We must ensure that decisions we make today do not come back to haunt us tomorrow." - Ildefonso Guajardo Villarreal
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
October 7, 2025, AD (*Kzzz* Days Before [ SUMMUM SECRETUM ]), 2:23 AM.
Hell/The Limbo Ring/Somewhere In The Wilderness of Limbo Wasteland.
*BEEP. BEEP. BEEP*
[-]
*EEEHHH... EEEHHH... EEEHH*
"THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE IS TRANSMITTED AT THE REQUEST OF COVENANT. "
"AT 2:19 AM, UNIVERSAL TIME, JULY 2, 1920, THE INVASION BY HOSTILE FORCES HAS OCCURRED AT THE OUTER LIMBO RING. MARTIAL LAW HAS BEEN DECLARED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF KING MINOS."
"ALL NON-COMBATANT POPULATIONS ARE ORDERED TO EVACUATE MAJOR METROPOLITAN AREAS IMMEDIATELY. SEEK SHELTER IN DESIGNATED SAFE ZONES OR EVACUATE TO ADJACENT CHECKPOINTS WHERE POSSIBLE. FOLLOW LOCAL EVACUATION ROUTES WHICH HAVE BEEN MARKED BY LOCAL AUTHORITIES. DO NOT RETURN TO THE WARNING AREA UNTIL THE ALL CLEAR HAS BEEN GIVEN. "
"THE FOLLOWING AREAS ARE CONSIDERED ACTIVE COMBAT ZONES: LIMBO CENTRAL, CADIA, VALLEY OF OBSCURITY, BORDERLANDS SECTORS 7 THROUGH 18 AND CALDERA "
"IF YOU ARE NOT IN THE EVACUATION ZONE, STAY WHERE YOU ARE. IF YOU ARE WITHIN THE EVACUATION AREA AND HAVE NO TRANSPORTATION, LOCATE YOUR NEAREST POLICE DEPARTMENT OR KNIGHT OF EXORCISM. DO NOT USE TELEPHONES EXCEPT IN EMERGENCIES."
"THIS MESSAGE WILL REPEAT EVERY FIFTEEN MINUTES UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. "
"REMAIN CALM. REMAIN VIGILANT. MAY GOD SAVE THE RING OF LIMBO"
*BEEP. BEEP. BEEP*
[-]
*EEEHHH... EEEHHH... EEEHH*
"Would you shut that fucking thing up already?!" Came a muffled voice of the female succubus from the driver's seat, the steering wheel. Her I.R.A. insignias were barely visible beneath the heavy protective gear that covered her from head to toe. "That propaganda bullshit isn't helping me drive!"
Beside her in the passenger seat, a female hellhound tried to pry open the back panel of a portable radio. Like her companion, she was encased in similar anti-roodiatiom gear with Gas mask fitted snugly over her entire face.
"Come on, ya piece of shit!" The hellhound cursed, her voice equally distorted by the breathing apparatus. She saw her teammate still stared at her, prompting her to reach over and switch the radio with a sharp click. "Happy now?!"
--------------------------
--------------------------
"Much." The succubus replied with obvious relief, though her irritation hadn't completely faded. "Ugh, do you seriously need to have it turn on that EAS?"
"EAS covers the entire Ring of Limbo with full clarity. I had to check if the radio's dynamics worked properly. We're being paid based on the quality of our salvage, remember?" The hellhound adjusted her position in the passenger seat, the Geiger counter on her chest continuing its clicking when the radio was in her hands. "Can't afford to have busted equipment when we need to call in our findings to High Command."
The Succubus only sighed at that. It was just another day in the roodiated wasteland of Inner Limbo for the I.R.A.'s stalker teams. While the main forces fought their guerrilla war against the Hell itself, specialized scavenging units like theirs ventured deep into the contaminated heart of the ring, searching for anything of value that could further their cause.
It's not a secret that that Ring of Limbo had become a treasure trove of abandoned military hardware, lost relics, and exotic technology left behind by Heaven during the Invasion of Limbo by Inferno an Century ago. At this point, The Outer Limbo was picked clean by Colonization's efforts and so rarely you can anything of value these days. But Inner Limbo, where most of urban area was...that's another story.
No one knows what happened, but Inner Limbo became a sector referred to as "The Zone". Venturing it is very dangerous even for a demon. Without proper equipment that protects you from roodiation, you won't survive 2 minutes before you succumb to poison and madness. And the local fauna doesn't help either.
But every lowlife in Pride wants to whack someone; thus, Sinners pay a good buck for that crap. And so, demons who were brave (foolish) enough geared up and went to the Zone, stalking across the ruins to search for anything of value. Hence the term "Stalker" was born as a subculture of Limbo demons. And I.R.A. obviously wants to carve their own niche of market in that business.
The I.R.A. leadership didn't particularly care what their scavengers brought back, as long as it had value. Some items would be kept to arm their growing rebellion, while others would be sold to the highest bidder for a quick buck. Souls were souls, whether they came from selling to demon crime syndicates or corrupt officials looking to add exotic pieces to their private collections.
The work was dangerous and dirty and paid well enough to keep volunteers coming despite the roodiation exposure and constant threat of encountering hostile wildlife mutated by the Inner Limbo's toxic environment. But for these stalkers, it beat the alternative of direct combat against the Satan's Legion forces or Ars Colonia's.
"You know what?! Fuck Captain Meridiana!" Hellhound had enough.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Don't tell me you're about to - "
Her protest was cut short as the hellhound, without further ceremony, produced a combat knife from her gear and began working at the radio's casing, prying and cutting until she could access the internal components. There, she tugged severed wires and extracted the speaker unit from the gutted radio, blessing them with silence once again...much to the succubus' annoyance. The music was catchy.
"There you go!" The hellhound smirked beneath her gas mask as she held up the salvaged component, turning it over in her gloved hands to examine its condition. The speaker appeared to be in better shape than the rest of the radio's internals. "This might actually be worth more than the entire radio was. Good quality speakers are always in demand."
"That's up to Meridiana or whatever tech evaluator is on duty to decide, bud..." The succubus rolled her eyes beneath her gas mask, though the gesture was lost behind the tinted lenses of her protective goggles. "We just deliver the crap and get paid as per usual. "Speaking of which...we're here."
The vehicle began to slow as they approached their destination, the engine dropping to a lower pitch before it stopped beside what had once been a gas station, though calling it abandoned would be an understatement. The structure looked completely deserted with windows boarded up, signage long since faded, and the entire building having been picked clean at least twenty times over.
"You know the drill," the succubus said, her hand moving toward the door handle.
"Yeah-yeah..." The hellhound replied with indifference, putting the speaker in one of her many pouches.
The two of them disembark from their vehicle, the van's doors creaking open a bit. Despite its desolate appearance, this gas station served them for a reason. Stalker teams, be they I.R.A's or non-affiliated ones, had established hidden supply caches and mini-safehouses throughout both the Outer and Inner Limbo regions. Traveling across the roodiated wasteland was perilous enough without having to worry about running out of fuel, ammunition, or basic supplies in the middle of nowhere. Hence I.R.A at least, invested considerable resources in creating a network of these concealed supply stations. This particular gas station was one such station.
"Devil, I don't feel my face with the mask I'm wearing." Complained Stalker Hellhound, rubbing her neck.
"It's going to be at least three hours of driving from here to reach the regional base." The succubus explained as she approached the station's entrance. "I don't want to risk losing fuel on the road and getting stranded out there...might as well decontaminate ourselves."
Just as Succubus' clawed hand reached for the door handle, the hellhound's grip suddenly clamped down on her arm, stopping her mid-motion.
"Wait! How long ago was this safehouse last used?" The hellhound whispered in a serious tone.
The succubus paused, thinking for a moment before shrugging.
"Maybe a month ago? Could have been longer. Why?"
In response, the hellhound brought out her weapon, a blessed but rusted assault rifle, and cocked it, just in case. She motioned for the succubus to do the same.
"Of course..." The succubus murmured with weary resignation, drawing her own weapon, a compact rifle that had seen better days but remained reliable enough for wasteland work.
Both Stalkers had enough experience in the wasteland to recognize that even safehouses could not be...safe anymore. Hence moving with caution, the succubus carefully pushed the door open, and the hinges protested with a loud rusty squeal. She activated the tactical flashlight mounted beneath her rifle's barrel and pointed it forward before slowly entering inside.
Just like outside, the interior was desolate with nothing left of anything valuable. Empty shelf after empty shelf greeted them. But so far no one was here, but that doesn't mean anything for them. As the succubus swept her light across the interior, something caught her attention. There on the floor, an empty food can lies near the entrance.
"You think what I think?"
"Should be them, then." Hellhound agreed.
"Be ready." Succubus whispered.
The Hellhound nodded, raising her weapon. Without hesitation, the Succubus snatched up the can and hurled it against the far wall to cause a loud noise. The two stalkers immediately backed away from the entrance, forming a defensive line with overlapping fields of fire.
"RAAARRHW!"
Their instincts proved correct. The sound triggered an immediate response as three grotesque figures came rushing from the shadows with inhuman shrieks. The first one was wearing the tattered remnants of an Exorcist uniform, while the other two had clearly once been Limbo Sinners.
"Eat a lead, fuckers!"
The stalkers opened fire with no time wasted, rounds tearing through corrupted flesh. The creatures barely made it halfway across the station's interior before being cut down in a hail of gunfire. One of the former Sinners struggled to rise despite the grievous wounds; the succubus stepped forward and delivered a final shot to its skull, putting an end to its tortured existence. But she wasn't taking any chances. The succubus then fired two more controlled shots into the creature's head and kicked the head for good measure.
"And stay dead!" She muttered through her gas mask, not used to their disgusting appearance.
"They must have heard all that gunfire." The hellhound swept her rifle across the interior, checking for any additional threats that might emerge from the rooms. "If there were more of them in here, they would be swarming us by now."
"True enough," The succubus agreed, lowering her weapon slightly but maintaining her alert posture. "They aren't exactly smart. If anything else was lurking in here, they would have already stormed in."
"Still worth checking everything."
"True." Stalker Succubus nodded before looking down at the corpses scattered across the gas station floor, shaking her head. "Poor bastards."
Wasting no time, the two stalkers checked the remaining rooms of the gas station, moving through what had once been the employee break room, storage areas, and restrooms. They swept every corner, checking for any additional threats or signs of recent occupation.
"Clear..." The hellhound called out from the last room she'd checked.
"Same here." The succubus responded, lowering her weapon and already marching towards their destination. "Alright, let us get stuff from the safehouse."
Hellhound quickly joined her, and two Stalkers made their way to the gas station's small office. The room was cramped and cluttered with nothing of value. There is old paperwork, a rusted empty cash register, and furniture covered in layers of dust and grime.
"Help me push this."The hellhound approached a heavy wooden dresser positioned against the far wall, gesturing for her partner to take the other side.
Together, they shifted the dresser aside with considerable effort. Beneath is a concealed hatch door. The hellhound worked the lock and lifted the hatch, revealing a narrow ladder that descended into the hidden mini-safehouse below. Climbing, they got themselves into a small cellar containing the essential supplies that made these waypoints so valuable. Ammo, non-deteriorating food, medkits, and repair kits. You name it.
"Ah, good. No one looted it." Succubus commented, opening the crate to find some ammo for her gun.
But what they are after are two large canisters in the corner. One was marked as fuel for their vehicle, and another labeled as RooAway. It is some kind of Limbo's Pre-War invention that could cleanse roodiation from organic and non-organic tissue. It was rare and worth its weight in gold in the wasteland, where even brief exposure to the wrong areas could prove fatal without proper treatment.
"You take the fuel; I will take the yellow stuff." Hellhound said, already picking up the canister.
"Roger that."
The succubus grabbed and hauled the fuel canister up through the hatch and outside with her partner. Meanwhile, the hellhound would be busy spraying down RooAway on their vehicle's exterior. The decontamination process was necessary before they reached their base; even their protective gear could only do so much against prolonged exposure to the toxic environment, not to mention the risk of everyone else on the base getting sick.
"So, how are you feeling about our loot prospects for this run?" The hellhound glanced over at her partner as she held the nozzle and sprayed down the van's undercarriage. "Think we'll find anything worthwhile in the target zone, or are we looking at another bust like last week's expedition?"
The succubus considered the question as she watched the precious liquid flow into their van's tank; only the glug-glug-glug of fuel filled the silence before she finally responded.
"For rural countryside? It's actually a decent haul. We've got that speaker you pulled, a fusion cell from the local power station, and whatever scrap metal we can strip from the abandoned vehicles we passed on the way in. The roodiation readings weren't too bad either, so we didn't burn through our RooAway packs. That's a plus in my book." She secured the fuel cap and hefted the now-empty canister, preparing to return it to the underground cache. "Command will be happy enough with what we bring back. It's not like we're competing with the glory boys hitting the Central Limbo."
"Well, Capital City is where the real treasure is." The hellhound shrugged, continuing as she worked her way around the vehicle's exterior. The RooAway hissed slightly as it neutralized the roodioactive particles on their transport.
"Oh, don't even let me start with Capital City proper." Stalker Succubus shook her head emphatically. "I don't care if there's a fucking armory full of blessed weapons sitting in the middle of downtown Limbo Central. I wouldn't venture into that devilhole even if my life depended on it."
"That bad, huh?" Her partner glanced up from her work.
"That bad," The succubus confirmed grimly. "Heard Stalker Team Delta went last Friday there, I think. From what they said, The roodiation levels alone would cook us alive in minutes, even with full gear. And that's assuming we could even make it past the outer perimeter without running into something that used to be a battalion of corrupted Exorcists. You remember what happened to Last Delta team when they tried to hit that government building near the city center about a year ago?"
"Right... they found pieces of their van scattered across three city blocks. Never did find all the bodies." The hellhound recalled the incident. At this point, it should be enough to clean the truck from roodiation.
"Found one, actually... with no torso. Just legs left of the poor bastard." The succubus grimaced beneath her mask before deciding to not bother anymore. Fuck Capital City of Limbo. "Alright, enough morbid shit for one day. Come on, spray me down before we head back."
The hellhound obliged, directing the spray across her partner's protective suit.
"Turn around," she instructed, and the succubus slowly rotated so her partner could reach the back of her suit. "There should be enough."
With the hellhound finished, she gave it to the succubus to be next.
"You know the drill. Arms out, legs apart." The succubus said, motioning for her partner to assume the same position. Both stalkers had performed this countless times, so nothing is new.
The hellhound complied, standing still as the succubus sprayed every inch of her protective gear, from the reinforced boots to the sealed hood of her roodiation suit. Didn't take long as well.
"There, clean enough that we won't make the entire garrison sick." The succubus announced, giving her partner one final spray around the feet, where contamination was always worst. "Come on, let's get these things back."
"So once, we come back to the 'Mole' base. What are you planning to do?" The Hellhound asked, grabbing the canister.
"Rest, really. And pray to the Devil our next command won't force us to go to the Capital City Sector." The succubus commented as she climbed back down into the hidden cache to return the fuel canister; she motioned her Hound friend to give her the remaining canister, for she will handle it by herself. "Like I said, Comrade. There are brave demons, there are stupid ones, and then there's whatever the fuck you'd call attempting to loot Capital City. The countryside might not have the premium salvage, but at least we come home with all our limbs attached and our souls still in our bodies."
With both canisters in their same place, Succubus then emerged from the underground chamber and began helping her partner move the heavy dresser over the concealed entrance.
"Besides, I'm sure that command will not mind if some of the salvage remains with us. I heard that Overlord in Pride Ring pays good money for any Heaven-related salvage."
"Damn, right." Hellhound agreed.
With the heavy dresser finally repositioned over the concealed hatch, both stalkers stepped back as the succubus reached into one of the pouches on her tactical vest, gloved fingers fishing around until they found what she was looking for. She pulled out a slightly battered cigarette pack, the cardboard corners worn from countless expeditions but the contents still intact.
"Want one? If you say yes, then we have a reason for a little break." She offered, extending the pack toward her hellhound companion.
The hellhound glanced at the offered pack, then at the desolate landscape around them. The area was clear of threats, their truck was fueled and decontaminated, and they still had a few minutes before they needed to hit the road for the long journey back to base. "Ah Why the heaven not? Been a long enough day already."
Now that it's a break, both stalkers then removed their gas masks. The hellhound was the first to pull hers off completely, her eyes blinking as they adjusted to the unfiltered light. Her fur was matted down from the mask's interior padding, and she ran a clawed hand through it, trying to restore some semblance of normalcy.
The succubus followed suit, lifting her own mask away to reveal a scarred face with a slight pallor to her skin and faint dark circles under her eyes that no amount of rest seemed to cure. She shook out her hair, which had been compressed under the protective gear for days.
"Fuck, that's better..." the succubus muttered, working her jaw muscles to relieve the stiffness. She then placed a cigarette between her lips and produced a worn lighter from another pouch, taking a long, deep drag. She gave another cigarette and held the lighter out toward her partner. The hellhound leaned forward, inhaled slowly, letting the smoke fill her lungs before exhaling with obvious satisfaction. The nicotine was welcome right now...much better than polluted air in the countryside.
"You know, for all the shit we give this job, at least we're not stuck in some factory in Greed Ring, working sixteen-hour shifts for barely enough scrip to afford a rat-meat sandwich." The hellhound said, smoke curling from her muzzle as she spoke,
"Saying from experience?"
"Oh, yeah. My boss gave me a candy after a 24-hour shift. Devil, I was so furious that I quit on the spot."
"Eh, sounds about right. Fucking Greed Ring." The succubus chuckled. She then gestured with her cigarette at the landscape around them. "Kind of weird, but...I appreciate Ring of Limbo despite all of this. It's very desolate but...beautiful when demons are not around and don't pollute it. Not many demons can say they've seen what the inside of a contaminated zone looks like and lived to talk about it."
"Speak for yourself. I could do without seeing another rootant beast try to make a meal out of me." The hellhound replied, but there was no real complaint in her voice. Despite the dangers, both of them knew they were good at what they did, and the I.R.A. paid well enough to make the risks worthwhile. "How long do you figure we've got before Command sends us out again?"
The succubus considered the question while taking another drag. "Week, maybe two if we're lucky. Depends on what they get about new sites worth hitting. And whether any of the other teams come back with reports about anything particularly valuable. Let's hope the countryside runs again...”
"Don't even jinx it," the Hellhound warned, though her tone was more superstitious than genuinely angry.
Succubus gave her a look before just silently enjoying the nicotine for a short while. Soon enough, they'd have to mask up again for the long drive back to base.
The succubus reached into another pouch on her vest, producing a somewhat dented protein bar wrapped in military-grade packaging.
"Want half?" she offered, holding up the bar toward her partner. "It's one from my ration packs I opened yesterday. Supposedly tastes like chocolate, though I wouldn't bet my life on it."
The hellhound wrinkled her nose and shook her head dismissively.
"Nah, I'm good. Those things taste like shit." She glanced around the desolate gas station, her eyes settling on the building's entrance. "I think I'm going to take a leak before we hit the road. Three hours in that van without a pit stop sounds like torture."
"Be my guest," the succubus replied with a wave of her hand, already tearing open the protein bar's wrapper. "I'd rather check our salvage one more time anyway. Make sure nothing fell off during the drive."
The hellhound nodded and made her way toward the gas station's interior, stepping carefully around the corpses they'd left scattered across the floor.Left alone, the succubus took a bite of the protein bar and grimaced slightly, nearly choking. The hellhound hadn't been wrong about the taste. It was barely tolerable.
She finished the bar as best as she could and made her way around to the back of the vehicle. The rear cargo doors creaked as she opened them, revealing the carefully organized collection of salvage they'd gathered during their expedition. Everything was secured with elastic cords and padding to prevent damage during transport, but it never hurt to double-check.
"Let's see what we've got," she murmured to herself, running her eyes over the various components, scrap metal pieces, and electronic devices they'd collected. She picked up a small device that looked like it might have been part of a communication system, turning it over in her hands. The casing was intact and the internal components seemed undamaged despite the years that have passed.
"Command doesn't need to know about this... A few souvenirs never hurt anyone."
The succubus was so focused on examining the potential keeper that she didn't notice the shadow that fell across the van's interior. A powerful hand suddenly clamped over her mouth, cutting off any cry of alarm before it could escape. Another arm wrapped around her neck, pinning her arms against her sides and lifting her slightly off the ground. Her eyes went wide with shock and terror as she realized someone had gotten the drop on her completely before being pulled backward into the shadows.
Inside the gas station, the hellhound finished her business and emerged from the makeshift restroom, cursing how she despises old-ass toilets. With complaints to herself, she went back to the truck, noticing that her friend is not here. Probably checking the rear of the truck.
"Hey, you sure you don't want anything before we - " The words died in her throat as she took in the scene before her.
A female hellhound she'd never seen before was crouched beside her partner's unconscious form, searching through the succubus's gear. Both hellhounds spotted each other at the same moment. The I.R.A. stalker's hand flew to her weapon, raising the blessed assault rifle with lightning speed, while the stranger mirrored her movement, bringing up her own firearm.
"Who the fuck are you?!" The I.R.A. hellhound snarled, her finger hovering over the trigger as she kept her weapon trained on the intruder.
The white-furred hellhound kept her own weapon steady, neither backing down nor showing any signs of panic at being discovered. But before either could pull the trigger, powerful arms wrapped around the I.R.A. stalker from behind. Just like her partner before her, a hand clamped over her mouth while another arm squeezed her neck
"Mmmph!" she tried to shout through the hand covering her muzzle; her legs kicked wildly as she was lifted off the ground. The I.R.A. hellhound's movements gradually weakened as her struggles became more sluggish until she finally went limp in his arms.
"What took you so long? I was starting to think you'd gotten lost or something." Loona lowered her weapon with visible relief.
"Would have been easier if this one hadn't left earlier. But no matter, intel proved to be correct, and we got what we came for. Help me get them both into their truck." Cyrus instructed, already beginning to drag the unconscious hellhound toward the vehicle. "Remember, we'll need their transport and their gear if we're going to make this look convincing. They go with us."
"Wouldn't it be easier to strip them up and just leave them here?"
"Harder because we're on the clock, Loona. Plus, that was an order to bring them too."
In that case, Loona nodded and grabbed the succubus under the arms, hauling her toward the rear of the truck where the cargo doors still hung open. She handled the weight with ease, no stranger to this kind of work since she and her dad did...that one time.
"You know..." Loona glanced back toward the gas station. "They mentioned something about a mini-safehouse under there. Might be worth checking out before we leave. Could have useful supplies."
"Your friend is still in I.R.A. custody," Cyrus reminded her sharply. "Every minute we waste here is another minute Octavia spends in their hands. We stick to the plan."
"Yeah...you're right." Loona sighed, agreeing fully. Personal curiosity would have to take a backseat. Octavia's rescue was the priority, and everything else was just a distraction they couldn't afford.
Loona made her way around to the passenger side of the truck and climbed in, settling into the seat that the I.R.A. hellhound had occupied just minutes before. Cyrus noticed her disappointed look as he climbed inside to the driver's seat.
"Look, I'll tell the rest of the Aldecaldos after we're done with business of yours. One of us can hit this place properly later. Won't be a total waste."
"For you, bud." Loona grinned, seeing him through.
"You will get your share of loot, don't you worry."
Cyrus then took a moment to familiarize himself with the vehicle's controls. Been a while since he rode anything other than a bike. And this I.R.A. truck was older and more battered than what he was used to driving, but the basics were the same in any case. He turned the ignition, and the engine coughed to life with the same labored rumble.
"Where to?" Loona asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
Cyrus didn't respond immediately, instead focusing on maneuvering the truck away from the abandoned gas station. The vehicle's suspension creaked as they pulled onto the road, leaving behind that place. Only when they'd put some distance between themselves did he finally speak.
"Fort Desolation as instructed by Forcas. Should be there in under 30 minutes or less if this piece of junk holds together."
"Fort it is then." Loona nodded, getting comfy on the seat, and instead focused her attention at the window, observing the ruins pass by.
Ever since Loona told everyone about her new message, the plan to rescue Octavia was put into motion. Forcas and Focalor quickly realized that for their rescue, they will have to do it in a subtle way. Hence, Forcas, with Duke's approval, ordered everyone around to retrieve the equipment with the help of Satan Legion's scouting party, who provided all the information they needed.
For Loona and Cyrus, their mission was to get a truck of I.R.A and the Stalker equipment. The task was simple, as it turns out that the I.R.A. sometimes have less protected trucks that stopped by specific safe houses per month. So, Loona and Cyrus did what they had to do and snatched the one while they had a chance. Easy as pie, as it turned out to be. All that's left is to bring that truck into the main camp/fort/whatever the Satan’s Legion calls their temporary encampment for the next phase.
Good track of progress considering what happened with them all. If anything, Blitzo won't believe half of her adventures in Limbo once Loona gets to share it with him...and that conspiracy thing.
...
Since when did Loona's life become so complicated?
As the stolen I.R.A. cargo truck rumbled across the desolate expanse of Outer Limbo's wasteland, Loona pulled out her phone once more, eyes fixed on the glowing screen of her phone.
"I.R.A. is growing reckless. Be quick if you want your friend saved." - Your Benefactor
The mysterious message from their so-called "Benefactor" continued to stick in her mind. Plus, the picture of Octavia being unconscious and bound had made her more tense than usual.
"Still staring at that fucking thing?" Cyrus's voice cut through the engine noise, rough but not unkind. He glanced sideways at her, noting the way her ears twitched with barely contained anxiety.
"Yeah...just something's not right about this." Loona muttered, her thumb scrolling through the message for what had to be the hundredth time. "I mean this 'Benefactor' bullshit... who the fuck sends rescue coordinates to the enemy? And how did they get my number?"
"Maybe they're I.R.A. defectors." Cyrus suggested it, though he didn't believe it himself. "Internal conflicts happen in every faction. Could be someone with a conscience."
"The I.R.A. having a conscience?" Loona barked out a harsh laugh. "From what I saw on the train, they'd rather burn down half of Hell than show mercy to a single Goetian noble."
Cyrus instead rumbled, a sound that seemed to come from deep in his chest. He was quiet for a moment, steering the wheel as he navigated around a particularly treacherous stretch of broken terrain. "No organization is immune to infighting. Even fanatics have their disagreements. Seen it before. Someone always thinks they know better."
"Still, I don't trust this little nudge they gave me." Loona shook her head, still wondering about the angle.
"And you're right to be suspicious. Could be a trap. Could be genuine. Doesn't matter. We take what we can get. All that matters in the end...is getting your friend back."
"Yeah, thanks..." Loona sighed to herself. There was something oddly comforting about his pragmatic approach. "Do you think Forcas' plan will actually work?"
"I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Bird Kid's got steel in his spine. Dead serious about this rescue. When someone's that focused in order to prove their worth, then there's a chance. That's more than we usually get."
"A chance with huge risks?"
"Life is all about it...there is always a huge risk."
"Ain't that an truth." Loona slowly nodded, seeing his wisdom in there before looking at the window.
At least 30 minutes later, the stolen I.R.A. cargo truck would crest the final ridge before the Satan's Legion encampment appeared. Fort Desolation, as the hastily painted sign declared in angular, blood-red letters, bore little resemblance to the sterile corporate installations of Militech or even gothic Goetian fortresses.
The encampment before them was a typical fortification you see in Wrath Ring. Towering walls constructed from salvaged metal plates and reinforced concrete rose nearly thirty feet into the sky. Watchtowers positioned at regular intervals alongside sniper nests, each one manned by legionaries with either stolen blessed cowboy repeaters or Militech's cursed alternatives. And since it was a custom, above the entrance and mounted on iron spikes, were the skulls of various demons arranged in a gruesome display that spoke to the Legion's methods of dealing with their enemies.
"Huh...they look like they stepped out of the Harvest Moon Festival quite recently. What's with all the red?" The hellhound's ears twitched as she glanced at the fortifications ahead.
"Satan's boys. Everything they do revolves around their Lord's preferences. Makes them easy to spot on a battlefield but intimidating." Cyrus replied simply. He reached into his vest and withdrew a small square of white cloth and extended it to the driver's side window, waving it in deliberate slowness. "Will handle it, Loona. These skirt imps don't fuck around."
A legionary emerged from the gate's guardhouse as the truck stopped by near him. His face was hidden beneath a classical-style helmet that only made his glowing yellow eyes visible, alongside a helmet crest made of hellhound tail.
"State your business, profligates." The guard demanded with a subtle squeeze of his hand that held a machete.
"Cyrus of the Aldecaldos nomad clan together with Loona from I.M.P. We're here on behalf of Duke Focalor's 72nd Legion for the joint operation to rescue Marquise Octavia. We brought the truck with two prisoners as instructed by Commander Forcas." Cyrus leaned out the window, keeping his hands visible and being respectful.
The legionary's helmet tilted slightly as he processed this information. After what felt like a tense 10 seconds, he stepped back and gestured toward the left side of the compound with his machete.
"Drive the truck to the nearest left turn, profligate. You will find your friends there. Proceed slowly and keep your hands where they can be seen. True to Satan."
"True to Satan," Cyrus replied automatically, the response rolling off his tongue. He'd dealt with the Legion before...you learn to be polite quickly if you want to keep breathing in the end when dealing with them.
The massive gates groaned open, revealing the interior of Fort Desolation in all its brutal glory. Cyrus guided the truck through the entrance, and Loona found herself staring at the organized chaos that surrounded them.
--------------------------
--------------------------
The encampment was laid out so professionally that it would have impressed even the most demanding Goetian Duke out there. Streets paved with packed earth and gravel formed a grid pattern, each intersection marked with stone pillars bearing directional signs and Legion propaganda. Barracks constructed from prefabricated modules and reinforced concrete housed the rank-and-file legionaries, walls painted and decorated with murals depicting Satan's and sometimes Imperious' various victories throughout Hell's history.
Training grounds filled with legionaries practicing combat drills...or rather beating the shit out of each other to prove who was mightier from the meat grinder. Beyond that lay the industrial heart of the encampment. Workshops where Legion smiths hammered out weapons and armor on anvils. Motor pools filled with vehicles that ranged from makeshift transport trucks to elaborate war machines decorated with spikes and skull motifs. A field hospital where priestesses of Imperia, to be more correct, tended to wounded warriors.
And worst of all, they weren't fucking around. There are rows of upside-down crosses with crucified IRA bodies left to hang and rot for demon vultures to feast upon. Gruesome, really.
"Fuck...they really don't mess around, do they?" Loona breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of a crucifixion posts. Creepy.
"The Legion believes in making examples..." Cyrus replied grimly, navigating around a group of marching legionaries who moved in formation. "Satan's justice is...honest and brutal, as imps say."
The truck's path took them past the command tent that looked more like a pavilion fit for an Legatus than a temporary camp. Red silk banners fluttered from its corners, and legionary officers in elaborate armor could be seen moving in and out.
"There, that's our people."
Loona squinted through the windshield and felt a surge of relief as she recognized not only the Ars Goetia's Knights of the 72nd Legion but also Millie and Desdemona near what appeared to be a makeshift vehicle maintenance station. Millie greeted them with a wave at their approaching truck, while the succubus mechanic stood with her hands on her hips. As they drew closer, the mechanic began waving them toward a cleared area between several parked makeshift Legion vehicles.
"Right there, Cyrus! Park 'er between them Legion trucks so she don't stick out like a sore thumb!"
By her request, Cyrus brought the truck to a stop where she wanted and killed the engine. Before he could even reach for the door handle, Desdemona was already approaching the driver's side.
"And look what the hellhounds dragged in. Y'all had any trouble with that little acquisition?" Succubus drawled as she leaned against the truck's door.
"Nothing difficult. We found them taking a break. It was practically begging us to take it." Loona jumped out from the truck.
"That's what I like to hear, sugar. Simple and clean." Desdemona grinned, already climbing up to see the engines. Opening the hood, she produced a faint hum at seeing the insides.
"So?" Cyrus wanted to hear Desdemona's opinion since she is an expert in vehicles.
"This is ZIL-130 , Cyrus. It's an old but reliable truck, even by today's standards. Humans from that big country sure as shit can make engines that can last until the end of time."
"Can you make it so it won't explode for us?" Loona sarcastically asked, making Desdemona roll her eyes.
"Oh, please. I worked with an engineering abomination from "Germany" or whatever it is called on Earth before." Desdemona jumped out from the Soviet truck, pulling out tools she will need for later. "Well, your job ends, and mine will begin soon. Time for this baby to have a little tuning."
"Still not sure how stealing some clothes and a truck would help us here." Millie left her opinion out before glancing at Loona. "Took your sweet time, Loonie. We were startin' to worry when you didn't check in."
"Sorry about that; didn't want to risk the bad guys learning something is not right. Fuck, I don't even know if my phone is compromised or not."
"Better keep quiet about the phone for now..." Millie whispered, gesturing subtly with her head that someone too important is approaching them.
It was then that a figure emerged in their view with two legionaries, walking towards them. It could be a Local Centurion as the Legion soldier's armor was more elaborate than the gate guard's, decorated with campaign trophies and fight marks that spoke to years of service. When he removed his helmet, revealing a scarred face marked by the trials of countless battles, Desdemona let out a low whistle to her.
"So, these are the profligates Knight Forcas spoke so confidently about." Centurion spoke as two of his men went back to get the unconscious bodies of I.R.A stalkers...Satan only knows what fate has in store for them. If anything, a crucified posts is probably the answer.
"And you're?" Loona narrowed her eyes as she turned towards him. However, Millie, surprisingly that for this time she is not the one who starts the fight, would quickly come in front of Loona to ease up the situation.
"Apologies for her hostility, Centurion Makrony. She is not...get used to talking with Satan's finest." Millie played along, fully nervous.
Centurion Makrony only gave her a stare, silently demanding that Millie handle Loona's misbehavior before his gaze moved from Loona to Cyrus. "That succubus told me a bit about your... leadership of Nomad Clan. I confess myself curious to see what makes you so valuable to Satan's cause."
"The Aldecaldos are honored to fight alongside the Legion in service to Hell's greater glory." Cyrus, of course, faked it, looking stern.
Marcus studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Then I bid you a warm welcome here, amigo. I'm told your clan has never broken a contract or abandoned an ally. Is this truly they say you can rely on Hellhound Nomad Clans...or did they lie?"
"Never a lie, Centurion." Cyrus confirmed simply.
"Good, then I hope I will be proven wrong soon." Centurion Makrony's gaze then shifted to Loona, and she felt as though she were being judged. "And you, hound. What skills do you bring to this endeavor?"
Loona again remained silent, not sure what to say to an obvious provocation. Thankfully, Millie was here.
"She is a good fighter, my centurion. I vouch that she will serve Satan delicately as my 'sister of battle'."
For a moment, there was tension. Then, to everyone's surprise, Centurion just laughed, amused.
"If you say so, Miss Mildred. Never in all my existence would I hear an Imp call a Hellhound their 'Sister of battle'." He turned back to Loona, his tone more approving now. "But I like this one; she got that 'Warhound' spirit in her eyes, I can see that. She may yet prove useful in the work ahead. However, I expect you to keep your dog on the leash. I won't allow her to shit any where she wants."
"Yes, my lord..." Millie again had to comply, surprising Loona even more. Millie is not the type to fuck with.
Not even a nod, Centurion then just turned around, not bothering to waste his time with profligates. Loona's eyes tracked Centurion until he was out of sight, then snapped back to Millie.
"What the actual fuck was that, Millie?" Loona's voice was low to avoid unnecessary ears. "Since when do you bow to some armored asshole calling you names? The Millie I know would've put a knife between his ribs the moment he called me a dog!"
"Look over there, Loonie," Millie said quietly, nodding toward the training grounds that sprawled across the eastern section of the compound. "Really look."
Loona turned, following Millie's gaze to see hundreds of Legion soldiers performing combat drills in the training area. "Okay? And?"
"See for yourself, sugar. I could take on an entire apartment block of regular imps. I've done it before, and you know it. But those boys over there? They ain't regular imps, girl. These are Satan's finest warriors he ever bred for his war machine. Nobody messes with them in the Wrath Ring for a good reason."
"She's right to be cautious." Desdemona straightened up from the truck's engine compartment, wiping grease from her hands with a rag. Even Cyrus turned from where he'd been observing the few legionnaires who...observed them back with suspicion. "Spend more time living in Wrath's cities, and you will find out how much you will fear the Legion when they come for you to pay taxes. That's why I left when I had a chance."
"I vouch for Des here. Satan's Legion isn't just an army, Loonie. They're both body and soul of Wrath Ring, as my pa used to say..." Millie nodded grimly, remembering how sometimes the legionaries visited their family farm for "grain tax" or whatever they referred to back then.
"You mean?" Loona was not sure what she meant.
"Ever heard the phrase? ‘ We Are Legion; for We Are Many’ , Loona?" Cyrus interjected, since he knows a little bit from Marchosias's own lessons. "That refers to them. When Satan conquered all the imp tribes way back when, he didn't just beat them; he erased them. He stripped Imps of everything that made them who they were as a Confederacy of Imperian Tribes. All of it got fed into the Legion's war machine. "
"The Big Guy is correct. You see a Legion soldier, you ain't seeing an imp anymore. You're seeing a weapon that used to be an imp, shaped and sharpened until all the individual pieces got hammered into something that serves only one master. Every legionary you see belongs to Satan. They live for him, fight for him, die for him, and never question why...that's why I don't want to fight them. When Imp ain't got nothing to lose, they're more dangerous in a fight."
"Devildamn, Millie. That's..." Loona didn't like the story.
"Cultural genocide." Cyrus said matter-of-factly, lighting up a cigarette as she watched Desdemona doing her magic with the engine. "Leave the bodies alive, but kill everything that made them who they were. Sounds familiar?"
"Disturbingly so..." Loona sighed, glancing at the training grounds and feeling a shiver. "So...what about everyone else who is not...a steroid junkie?"
"Subjects, just like you and me. If you're just some poor bastard trying to make a living in one of their cities or towns, they mostly leave you alone. You pay your taxes, you don't interfere with their business, and you get to live your life, however you want." Millie nodded, though she remained troubled. "And it's actually not a bad thing. Wrath Ring is very...free-spirited in the wilderness. Crime rates are high, but Legion doesn't care as long as it's not hurting Satan's War Machine. Otherwise...you can see it behind me, hon. So when that Centurion calls me names and treats me like dirt, I take it. Because fighting back means fighting the Legion and fighting the Legion means going to war with the entire Wrath Ring. And that's a war nobody wins except Satan himself."
"Fuck, Milie." Loona stared at her friend...really stared after seeing for the first time how much Millie was...concerned. It felt uncanny for a cheerful, violent imp she knew.
"Yeah, fuck indeed." Millie agreed. Her gaze drifted back toward the distant, and she scowled at herself. "And speaking of fucks, a piece of turd is coming to us."
"Oh, here we go again..." Loona muttered under her breath as she caught sight of another group approaching them
Leading the group was Prince Gaap, being the usual self and completely out of place in here. Behind him, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else in Hell, was Striker with hands rested casually on the grip of his pistol, but his eyes never stopped looking at the surroundings, as Exorcists proved to be cunning when needed. And last was Husk, the grumpy cat demon struggling with several crates of explosives.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite little pups, gracing us with their presence in this... finest establishment where the corpses hang."
Gaap was, of course, oblivious to the way everyone else was staring at him with varying degrees of disgust and disbelief. Even Striker's left eye twitched almost, and Husk let out a grunt of pure frustration as he set down one of the explosive crates with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary. If anything, ever since Amy was arrested. Gaap became an even more annoying little shit than before. Ego does wonders for Ars Goetia.
"What do you want, Gaap?" Loona took a deep breath, clearly struggling to maintain some semblance of civility.
"Do-It-Properly, Dog." Gaap slowly said that, reminding them that there is an Prince of Ars Goetia standing before them.
"What do you want, Prince Gaap?" Loona corrected...even though she sounded like she insulted his status as prince.
"Much better!" Gaap either didn't notice the barely concealed hostility or chose to ignore it completely. He then pressed one hand to his chest. "I am merely here in my humble capacity as a messenger! Our esteemed Knight Forcas is ready to enlighten us all with the brilliant plan that shall surely lead us to glorious victory!"
He paused for effect, apparently waiting for any response that never came.
"In other words, the briefing's starting. Boss wants everyone there in five minutes." Striker explains dryly, filtering out Gaap's bullshit.
"Thank you, Striker, for your dedication. Though I do believe my delivery was far more... artistic." Gaap said with a condescending smile as his bodyguard missed the point.
"Artistic, my ass," Husk let out a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a sigh of pure annoyance. But he continued his work as began arranging several of the explosive crates near the truck's rear compartment.
"What's with all the explosives?" Loona watched him work, her curiosity making her forget Gaap's existence
"All shall be revealed in due time!" Gaap clasped his hands together. "That is why we must make our way to the main command pavilion with all due haste! For every moment of delay brings us closer to...Octavia's unfortunate demise!" He turned his attention to the succubus, who had been quietly working on the truck throughout their conversation. "That includes you as well, my mechanically gifted seductress! You're part of the team too!"
"Wonderful..." Desdemona looked up from the engine compartment, not peace whatsoever.
Despite her irritation, she secured the truck's hood and joined them as the others started moving toward the command tent. They had made it perhaps fifty yards toward the command pavilion when Gaap suddenly raised his hand, which brought the entire group to a halt.
"Oh, and one more thing I forgot to mention. Miss Loona over here will have to delay here with me..."
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Loona's tail began lashing behind her with barely concealed irritation.
"I assure you, it's a matter of some importance, something that benefits you too." Gaap continued, apparently immune to her obvious hostility. "The others can proceed without us. We'll catch up momentarily."
He gestured for the rest of the group to continue, which they did, leaving Loona and Gaap alone. Loona's patience, already stretched thin after Octavia got captured, finally snapped completely. Her lips pulled back in a snarl that revealed every one of her sharp teeth, and a low hiss escaped from between them...
"I'm getting really fucking pissed off with your bullshit, Gaap," she growled, her red eyes blazing with barely contained fury. "Either say what you want to say or get the heaven out of my way."
"And your behavior toward me pisses me off too, hellhound." For the first time since her arrival, Gaap's friendly behavior slipped completely. His condescending smile vanished, replaced by a cold look that was somehow far more unsettling than the fake cheerful one he does. "And if you don't stop with this disrespectful bullshit, I'll skin you alive and turn your precious fur into a very fashionable coat."
Loona only blinked once and stared at him first before just letting out another annoyed growl. At the end of the day, he has more power than Loona ever will in her life. "Alright...fine, have it your way....my apologies."
"See, you can be a nice doggy at times, Miss Loona." Even if "apology" was not sincere and fake, Gaap nonetheless accepted it. This is the best he would get from her. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his behavior shifted again to something more genuine but cunning. "Look, I understand your concerns about Octavia. I truly sympathize with your being worried...loyal pet and all. Which is why I believe we should discuss our... mutual interests."
"Oh, here we go again. Just be fucking straight with me for once!"
In this case, Gaap would grab Loona's shoulder and make her have a little walk with him while they're discussing some things.
"Very well then." Gaap inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a fair request. "I want you on my side when it comes to what happens after we rescue dear Octavia. You see, once our little bird is safe and sound, she's going to have to deal with certain... complications. Amy, for instance." His expression darkened slightly at the mention of the name. "And then there's a certain other individual, Olivia."
The way he said the second name made even Loona not like it. But she allowed him to continue for now.
"Both of them will require careful handling very soon..." Gaap continued, his tone becoming more serious with each word. "And I believe having someone Octavia trusts...someone like you, speaking in favor of the right course of action could make all the difference between success and...unpleasant consequences."
"Such as?"
"Her anger, simple as that. Octavia will want blood...a lot of blood...and I want you to let Octavia's rage consume her instead."
"And why the fuck would I do that for you?" Loona's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
"Because, my dear hellhound, you're forgetting who you're speaking to right now." Gaap only chuckled in response, patting her shoulder as if she had made the best joke ever. "As a Goetia Prince, I have considerable leverage at the governmental level. The kind of influence that someone in your... unique position might find tremendously beneficial."
"I'm not buying this shit, Gaap. I’m not interested." Loona jerked her shoulder away from his touch.
"Even if I told you that cooperation might help you learn where you came from?" Gaap's smile widened as he stopped walking and turned to face her directly, holding a winning card for this instance.
"Including your lineage?"
Loona went completely still, as if someone had pressed a pause button. That definitely made her stunned.
"You're bullshitting me..." She said after a long pause, but her voice had lost all of its earlier venom.
Gaap's smirk deepened as he noticed that "desperate" tone in Loona. Hence, he raised his hand, and dark energy began to coalesce around his fingers. With a gesture that looked like he was plucking something out of thin air, he summoned a manila folder that materialized in his grasp with a soft pop. The folder was official-looking, bearing the seal of the Hellhound Adoption Center. Gaap opened it with deliberate slowness, revealing page after page of forms, documents, and what appeared to be medical records.
"I didn't forget that without you and what's-his-name, I would have been assassinated. As a sign of appreciation, I asked around while you were away with your friend, and...well, let me say, you have an interesting background."
"And how in heaven do I know you're not just taking some random file, friend?" Loona crossed her arms.
"Very clever, but I wasn't hatched yesterday." Gaap immediately realized her tactic: make him give her freely without any catch to prove he is not lying. But instead, he would read aloud for her to believe. "Name: Loona...something-something. Breed: Pure Vicarian Strain, untainted. Estimated age at intake: Six months. Status: Surrendered by her biological father. Medical notes from 2003: Multiple malnutrition indicators, signs of early trauma, behavioral issues stemming from abandonment..." He looked up at her with eyes that held no warmth whatsoever, just a classical Ars Goetian triumph and cruelty toward those who are lesser than them. "Shall I continue reading, or would you prefer to discuss our mutual arrangement in more detail?"
Loona's fists clenched so tightly. The folder in Gaap's hands might as well have been a loaded weapon pointed directly at her heart. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to lunge forward, to tear that folder from his grip, and to finally learn the truth about where she came from.
"Give it to me right fucking now, Gaap!" She snarled; the words came out as more of a growl than human speech, which made several passing legionaries glance in their direction, ready to act if needed. But Gaap was ready for her. As her hand shot out toward the folder, he smoothly withdrew it from her reach.
"Ah-ah-ah!" He tutted, wagging one finger at her like she was a misbehaving puppy. "Patience, my dear hellhound. Patience."
"Don't you fucking 'patience' me, you dickless bastard!" Loona's voice cracked with emotion. "That's my life in there, and you have no right to keep it from me! GIVE IT TO ME!"
To calm her down, Gaap just slapped her right in the face to make her behave, causing Loona to nearly lose her footing from how unexpected it was.
"BOLD ARE WE TODAY, HUH?!" Gaap chuckled at this, with infuriating calmness, tucking the folder securely inside his coat where she couldn't reach it. "On the contrary, I have every right to keep it from you! For you a wretched Hound who forgot there is a Goetia standing in front of her! I didn't acquire it simply to hand it over for free. By Belial's ancient decree, a slave must serve his master before they can award them, after all."
Loona would rub her cheek before standing straight and staring at Gaap's face, every part wants him dead.
"Attack me now, and you're a skin pelt, Loona."
"My dad will kill you for this..."
"I would like to try him when the entire Ars Goetia comes for him. Assassinating nobility by lowlifes is not welcome here in the Realm of Inferno, my dear canine friend."
Loona's breathing had become ragged, her chest heaving as she struggled between the urge to tear Gaap's throat out, despite feeling that snipers are pointing their repeaters at her, ready to kill her. This only made it worse, as she could feel tears of frustration building behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.
"You manipulative piece of shit," Loona's voice sounded with suppressed emotion.
"Wrong, I'm the true embodiment of an Ars Goetian prince. I prefer to think of it as offering you an opportunity and nothing less." Gaap corrected, remaining maddeningly pleasant. "But if you insist on viewing it through such a negative lens, that's certainly your prerogative, not mine. As promised by me, if you're being a loyal dog to me, you'll receive this folder and everything it contains after we successfully rescue dear Octavia. Not before. Patience, although admittedly a Heaven concept, is precisely what you need most right now, Miss Loona. Acting rashly will only delay the desire you seek. But cooperation... ah, cooperation will bring you everything you've ever wanted to know."
Loona stood frozen, every muscle in her body screaming at her to fight, to take what was rightfully hers by force. But the rational part of her mind recognized that Gaap held all the cards, and he knew it. He could destroy that folder right now if he wanted to, she'd never learn the truth. Her shoulders sagged as the fight went out of her. She could feel a defeat settling over her, but beneath all of that was something even worse...the desperate need to know. After decades of questions with no answers, she couldn't walk away from this chance, no matter how much it cost her.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of Legion soldiers training and the ever-present background noise of the military compound. Gaap seemed content to wait, apparently confident that she would eventually see reason...which she did.
"Fine, I won't stand in Octavia's way. Whatever decisions she needs to make about Amy or... whoever else, I won't interfere. She is not a kid anymore." She then lifted her head, and despite her capitulation, there was still steel left in her. "But I will protect her, no matter what your plans are. If someone tries to hurt her, I'll rip their fucking throat out."
"There we are! You see? You can be quite reasonable when you understand your place in this afterlife." Gaap's smile widened with genuine pleasure, as if she'd just given him the most delightful gift. "I knew you were intelligent enough to see the wisdom in cooperation rather than pointless resistance."
Here, Gaap would start to move once more. He stopped once again, turning back to Loona. "I'm so glad we could come to this understanding..."
"Loona Lindbeck."
Loona went completely still as her eyes widened, staring at Gaap in silence. As best she could, she tried to hold herself together.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" She finally said, flat and emotionless.
"Immensely..." Gaap replied without the slightest hint of shame. "But come now, we shouldn't delay any longer. Knight Forcas and Marchosias are waiting for us at the briefing, and I suspect they're growing rather impatient with our absence."
Prince Gaap turned on his heel and began walking toward the command pavilion. Loona remained where she stood, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared down at the packed earth beneath her boots.
She can't describe what she felt now. It's not like it's the first time she'd been outmaneuvered, manipulated, and backed into a corner. The Adoption Center is a prime example. But this is nothing but a bitter taste of feeling like being at the bottom, made worse by the knowledge that she'd had no real choice in the matter. But beneath the anger and frustration...it only got worse with the revelation.
She'd grown so accustomed to being just 'Loona' or Loona Buckzo. It wasn't her real first name, of course. Just the surname she'd inherited when Blitzo adopted her. But it had meant something to her, even if she'd never admitted it out loud. It represented belonging, however dysfunctional that belonging might be.
...
Loona Lindbeck...what a fucking joke.
In any rate, Loona shook her head, dismissing these thoughts for now. Octavia was still in I.R.A. custody, and standing here wallowing in her feelings wouldn't help anyone, especially her friend in custody. Loona pushed herself into motion and made her way toward the command pavilion. To no one's surprise, the command tent's interior was lit with maps, orders, and whatnot, typical of temporary posts. Aside from that, the red banners bearing Satan's sigil hung from the tent poles, reminding who was really in charge.
Desdemona sat perched on a supply crate, her legs swinging idly as she cleaned her nails with a knife. Cyrus stood near the tent's eastern wall, arms crossed. Husk had claimed a folding chair and was nursing what appeared to be a flask of something strong, so nothing unusual. Millie paced near the tent's center while Striker leaned against a support pole.
At the heart of it all stood Knight Forcas near where Marchosias was busy checking the notes, though 'stood' might have been a generous description. The young Goetia noble was shifting his weight from foot to foot, occasionally rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck.
"Oh, thank fuck you're finally here," Forcas said the moment he spotted Loona entering, his relief so genuine that it bordered on comedic. He gestured at his armored form with both gauntleted hands. "I was starting to think my legs were gonna fall off under all this weight. Seriously, whoever designed full plate armor clearly never had to wear it for more than five minutes at a time. This shit is fucking heavy."
With Focalor not around him, it always seems like Forcas drops the whole nobility formality and just prefers to be the same as everyone. Nice change of pace as Gaap annoys them with how entitled he is.
And speaking off...
"Ah, but you're forgetting something, Knight Forcas! Standing tall in that magnificent armor is precisely what will have all the ladies swooning at your feet! " Gaap let his voice out to be known. "Nothing quite like a knight in shining armor to get the bitches flocking to your dick, wouldn't you agree? And who knows? Perhaps even our dear Octavia might develop a certain... appreciation for dashing young heroes who rescue damsels from evil castles. It's been known to work wonders on the feminine heart."
"Um...what?" Forcas was confused as to what Gaap meant. Is he trying to be an unnecessary wingman for Forcas?
"He means that Octavia will fuck you or something." Loona sighed. What's Gaap 's point, since Octavia is not really into sexual pleasure?
"But I'm not - "
"Oh, for crying out loud, If our boy knight here needs help building confidence, I'd be more than happy to volunteer my services." Desdemona's voice cut through as she looked up from her nail cleaning with a wicked grin that promised trouble. "After all, I've never had a fling with a Goetia before...could be interesting to see what all the fuss is about with them."
"Bruh...a casual sex invitation was definitely not something I expected today." Forcas's face flushed so red it was visible even through his helmet's visor, and he made a choking sound that suggested his brain had temporarily short-circuited.
"Focus, bird boy," Husk's voice made Forcas turn his attention to him. The cat demon didn't even bother looking up from his flask as he continued: "We're not here to discuss your nonexistent love life. Tell us the fucking plan so we can get this shitshow started."
"The cat speaks wisdom," Centurion Markony's voice rumbled from where he stood near the tactical maps, busy analyzing them with Marchosias.
"Right, shit...sorry, everyone." The rebuke from both struck Forcas like a slap in the face, instantly returning him to bearing. "Let me get my head out of my ass and focus on why we're even here. Equipment check first!"
He reached into a leather satchel at his side to retrieve a folded piece of parchment covered in his handwriting. He unfolded the paper and checked the contents as he organized his thoughts. He then looked up, ready to begin it.
"Sir Striker and Miss Mildred. Your task was to acquire I.R.A. uniforms and equipment. Status report?"
"Done and done..." Striker replied, gesturing toward a pile of military gear stacked near the tent's entrance. "Two complete uniforms with rank insignia. Quality's good enough to pass as a disguise."
"And weapons?" Forcas continued, checking items off his list.
"Two standard-issue curse rifles, sidearms, and enough ammunition to make it look legitimate." Millie added. "Got 'em off a patrol that wandered too far from one of our outposts. Clean as you will get. No witnesses, but we left some unnecessary mess that would make them believe the raiders raided them earlier."
"Ain't that right?" Striker smirked.
"Excellent work." Forcas made a note on his paper, then turned his attention to the hellhound and nomad hellhound. "Loona, Cyrus. The I.R.A. transport vehicle from the Stalker team. No complications during acquisition? Will I.R.A realize their truck is upper-handed?"
"Truck's here and intact. Seems like the engine's in good condition, there's plenty of fuel, and the cargo compartment's large enough for our needs." Loona replied curtly, still feeling the weight of her deal with Gaap pressing down on her shoulders. "None worth mentioning about complications. Easy grab."
"Perfect." Another check mark on the list. Forcas turned toward where Desdemona is sitting. "Miss Desdemona, I know you've already received your orders from Centurion, but I need confirmation. Can you handle the engine tampering we discussed?"
"Don't you worry your pretty little bird brain about it. I'll have that engine purring exactly when you need it to!" Desdemona smirked.
"In that case, can you do it right-"
"Not a problem! See you all soon." Desdemona left, for she knew what her job was. After all, she is the main mechanic for the Aldecaldos. What else other than fixing or adjusting vehicles could she do?
"Alright, she's... efficient." Forcas muttered to himself.
"Oh, you don't know the half of it, Forcs. From the looks of it, she will show you how efficient she will be later to you." Marchosias smirked, still focusing on the papers and maps.
"Yeah-yeah, laugh while you can, bud." Forcas waved Marchosias off, with the Hellhound noble just smirking, finding it cute. Loona's own lips slightly quivered at this, their friendship is kind of adorable to see, as Marchosias is completely different when he is not polite or...nerdy.
"Centurion, final thing. The explosive charges for the cargo compartment. Are your men handling it?" Forcas will make another mark on his list before turning to the Legion officer.
"My legionaries will see to it personally, Knight Forcas." Centurion slowly nodded, somewhat observing the guests here.
"Awesome. That covers everything on the prep list." Forcas made a final mark on his paper; he then crumpled the paper into a tight ball and tossed it toward a metal wastebasket positioned near the tent's corner, landing with a satisfying thunk right in the center of the container.
"Yes, strike!" Forcas whispered under his breath, pumping his fist in a small victory celebration. Millie made a quiet "aaw" sound from this, finding this man really adorable and charming for a Goetia. In a way, he reminds her of Moxxie when she just met him.
But the moment of boyish triumph passed quickly, and Forcas straightened back into his leadership role. He moved to the center of the tent, positioning himself where everyone could see him clearly, and clasped his hands behind his back in a formal stance.
"Right then. Welcome, everyone, to the official briefing for what we're calling 'Operation Asyr: The rescue of Lady Octavia Goetia from I.R.A. custody at Fort: Red Alert...I, ugh, don't know what the fort is called, but I thought it sounded cool, so...yeah."
He paused, awkwardly scanning the faces around him to ensure he had everyone's attention before continuing. Most just stared at attentively, with the exception of Millie, who just smiles at him. Forcas again cleared his throat, shyly looking away as he continued.
"Anyway, I was assigned by Duke Focalor himself as the commander for this mission, meaning I'm the leader of this whole mission."
"Actually!" Gaap interjected smoothly, raising one talon in the air, for he'd been waiting for exactly this moment. "I believe the proper terminology would be that we're operating under a 'dual command.' After all, only Goetia can truly lead Goetia, and as the prince who outranks Knights, I naturally serve as... let's call it 'semi-leader'."
"Yeah, that too, I guess," Forcas replied with a neutral tone, not sure what to say about this. He technically is right, but Gaap didn't contribute anything towards Forcas' plan. Seems like he just allows him to plan whatever he wants, as long as Forcas delivers results. "But regardless, I want everyone here to understand something important: this is a team effort. Every opinion matters, and every one of you has something crucial to contribute to getting Octavia back safely. If you need to call me a moron for my stupid decisions. Then yeah, you can do it...kind of mean but...constructive criticism and stuff."
"How so? I thought you Goetias only take orders from your kind?" Husk asked, more busy staring at flask.
"Well, if things go sideways, as in this whole thing turns into a clusterfuck of epic proportions, that's on me. I'm the one who convinced my father this plan could work. It's my first time, so everything is a risk."
"Well, I'll be damned. A humble Goetia is like a celibate Incubus. Never thought I'd live to see one." Millie chuckled at this, actually liking that Goetia already.
"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything, I guess." Forcas let out a long, resigned sigh. "Look, I'm not gonna stand here and bullshit you all about having everything under control. Truth is, I'm fucking nervous as heaven. This is my first independent plan I've created from scratch without Dad's supervision. Usually, there's always been someone above me in the chain of command. Right now? It's just me, and that's... that's terrifying, honestly."
Husk looked up from his flask for the first time since the briefing began. He took a long, deliberate sip before wanting to say anything.
"Wonderful. So let me get this straight, kid. Miss Octavia is in the hands of rebels and they sent us a commander who's basically learning on the job? That's just fucking perfect. You reminded me of the folk I had to endure in top command for their idiotic decision that cost lives. What could possibly go wrong?"
"Oh, come on. Have some little faith." Forcas complained a bit.
"You didn't hear that Sinner properly, bird. Octavia is imprisoned by rebels." Loona too had to let her voice be known, for she didn't like it at all. "One stupid mistake and she can die!"
"Wolf girl got a point." Husk agreed, gesturing toward Loona with his flask. "Nothing quite like betting someone's life on a rookie's first solo flight. Really inspires confidence for the rest."
"Now hold on just a damn minute." Before Forcas could respond, Millie stepped forward. "Y'all need to give this man a chance before you start writing his obituary. Yeah, he's green, but so what? We've all been there. Heaven, I remember my first time leading a job, and I was shakier than a Chupacabra in a Lust Ring thunderstorm."
"Chupacabras are extinct in Lust, Miss Mildred." Forcas had to point that out since her example doesn't work.
"Not my point, honey. What I'm trying to say is look around this tent. We got some of the best badass motherfuckers that some armies in Hell wished they had. If the shit hits the fan, we're gonna wreck every last one of those I.R.A. bastards so hard they'll need a new recruitment drive or go underground. Inexperienced commander or not, we're gonna get our girl back. And I at least will make sure of it."
"Amen, sister." Loona slowly nodded, only to curse at herself for saying 'amen'... she still remembers that decent human ...so many regrets, and it's one of Loona's biggest.
"Hmm, that woman has a spark." Centurion muttered to Marchosias.
"Experienced assassin. She knows what she is doing." Marchosias returned it.
"Thank you, Miss Mildred. I... I really needed to hear that." Forcas stared at her for a moment, something shifting in his posture that spoke of genuine gratitude. "But I assure you I have commanded men before. Right now, I'm at the top of the command chain for this operation, and yeah, that pressure is... it's different. Because if I make the wrong call, it's not just my ass on the line, it's all of yours, and more importantly, it's Octavia's. That's what's got me so wound up."
He looked around the tent, meeting each person's eyes in turn before taking a deep breath.
"Alright then. Now that we've got the motivational speech out of the way..." He turned toward where Marchosias and Centurion who stood near the eastern wall. "Marchosias, I need those maps up on the board so everyone can see what we're dealing with."
"About time, friend." Marchosias replied with a grin. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten the most important part of any briefing...actually telling demons where the hell they're supposed to go."
"I swear to Belial, you are purposely taunting me so that I will call you an F-word one day, March."
"Oh, don't you worry. You have the "F-word" pass from me. Just don't go use it freely like a Belial when he heard for the first time that Hounds exist." Marchosias returned the banter as he gathered up rolled maps and reconnaissance photographs, unrolling the documents, and so on.
Forcas moved to retrieve a long wooden pointer that had been leaning against the tent's support structure. He tested its weight in his gauntleted hands before stepping up to the board to begin.
"Before we dive into the specifics, I need to make sure everyone understands the bigger picture we're operating within. I have no doubt that all of you are already aware of the I.R.A.'s goals to seize New Limbo, but I want to lay out exactly how that affects us."
He then points at the map for his crew to see the overall situation.
"From what we have gathered, the I.R.A. is currently consolidating their forces across multiple sectors, pulling in every available regiment and militia unit they can muster for a full-scale military offensive. The primary objective is New Limbo itself. They want to take the city and establish it as their new power base, thus making Limbo fall fully under I.R.A's control. But they're not stupid enough to leave their flanks exposed."
He used the pointer to indicate where the I.R.A. assumingly will attack them.
"Which brings us to the second front of their assault, this very fort we're stationed in right now. The I.R.A. has marked our position as a high-priority target for simultaneous assault. They plan to hit us at the same time they move on New Limbo, eliminating any potential reinforcement or flanking maneuvers from our forces."
"Smart for guerrilla fighters." Husk slowly nodded. Credit where credit is due to Vietcong wannabes.
"Yes, but it's not like we just sat by and did nothing. Duke Focalor anticipated this possibility, and that's why he authorized the deployment of a separated regiment from the Ars Goetian 72nd Legion under my direct command, working in conjunction with Centurion Markony's own Legion of Imps." The young knight gestured toward where Centurion Markony stood, the veteran officer nodding in acknowledgment. "The beauty of this is that the I.R.A. won't realize that a significant portion of our forces have been quietly redeployed. As far as their intelligence is concerned, this fort is operating at full defensive capacity. They have no idea that some of our best assets have already been pulled out for...different reasons."
Husk looked up from his flask, his eyes narrowing as the pieces began to click into place in his mind, getting what Forcas was really suggesting.
"Oh, I see what you're doing here. This is some trojan horse bullshit, isn't it? You're using their own offensive against them."
"Unholy shit, did you ever read the Odyssey too, sinner? Because you just nailed exactly what we're going for here." Forcas couldn't help but grin at Husk's quick understanding.
"Never read it, kid, but I don't need some ancient book to understand basic stragety for novice commanders. You're betting that when the I.R.A. commits to their big assault on both fronts, they'll pull forces away from wherever they're holding Octavia to reinforce their main offensive. Which means if you time this raid just right, you might actually have a real shot at getting in, grabbing the girl, and getting out before I.R.A realizes what the heaven just happened. Not bad for a rookie, bird boy. Not bad at all." Husk paused, with something that might have been grudging respect. "I suspected you would pull something similar from Humanity's art of warfare."
"More or less, yes." Forcas made an "eh, kinda" wiggle of his hand. “The thing is, it’s not necessarily from your kind. It's actually the same tactic that one of the many Champions of Ars Belial, like Asyr Goetia, used on his enemies a long time ago. Make the hostile forces be preoccupied with something else before hitting them from behind with something REALLY nasty. Today, most Goetia who go to military academy study Asyr’s tactics in their courses of battle control and commanding."
"And what is that “Nasty” you refer to?"
"Ars Theurgian Era Chariots, my sinner dude...fucking chariots." Forcas sighed to himself, for he really wants to try out the chariots. Most of Ars Goetia today uses carriages or...Devil forbid, a steam tank for warfare. "Like, you should hear how Asyr kicked - "
"Okay, enough with the warfare circle jerk!" Loona's voice cut through their discussion. "All this group masturbation is great and all. But what's the actual plan for us? We need to know what the hell we're supposed to be doing."
"Right, yes, of course." Forcas blinked, momentarily caught off guard before clearing his throat. He gestured toward Marchosias, who had been quietly observing the exchange with obvious amusement from Loona's interjection. "Marchosias will be handling the briefing for your crew's assignment. He's got all the specifics worked out."
"Your father got all worked out, Forcs. Not me. But thanks nonetheless." Marchosias corrected him. Forcas just made a "meh" sound and waved him off.
"Okay...and where exactly will you be while we're out there risking our asses?" Loona asked.
"I'll be coordinating with mine and Markony's Legion itself. I need to be with our troops to ensure the withdrawal happens according to schedule. Someone must make sure the rebels realize they've been played.”
Forcas replied, his voice taking on a more serious tone, meeting Loona's gaze directly. “I know it sounds like I'm leaving you all to handle the dangerous part while I stay safely behind the lines, but I promise you that's not the case. March will explain the whole plan."
"Of course." Marchosias nodded, assuring Forcas.
"Thanks, bro. Okay, right then. I need to get moving. My Legion are waiting for their orders, and the longer I delay, the more likely our window of opportunity closes. I want each of you to know that it would be an honor working alongside you all. May we all meet again when this is over, preferably with Lady Octavia safe and sound among us."
With that, he turned toward the tent's entrance, his armored footsteps ringing against the packed earth floor. But just as he reached the canvas flap, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.
"And most importantly: Give 'em the real meaning of hell out there. All of you."
And with those parting words, Knight Forcas pushed through the tent entrance and disappeared into the camp. Gaap, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during Forcas's farewell speech, suddenly clapped his hands together with enthusiasm.
"Oh, what a wonderful speech! Truly inspiring stuff, really." Gaap exclaimed, impossible to tell whether he was being sincere or mocking. Like Forcas, he began moving toward the tent entrance before he would turn back to face the remaining group. "Now then, my dear associates. Do try not to die horribly while you're out there playing hero. It would be such a terrible waste."
And with that, he just left them...if anything, that only improved things. At least Gaap would be far away.
Marchosias remained where he stood near the board, flipping a few papers to check if he forgot anything. After several long moments, he turned back toward the group.
"Alright, before I can walk everyone through the actual details of our plan, I need to wait for someone. Won't be long. In the meantime. Husk, Striker, I need you two to stay right here. We're going to be going over some specifics on your part, and I want to make sure we cover everything properly before anyone heads out." His attention shifted to where Millie and Cyrus stood near the tent's center. "Millie, Cyrus; same deal for you two, so don't wander off just yet."
"What about me, March? Forgot someone?!" Loona half-joked.
"You? It's impossible to forget, Loona." Marchosias returned it, smiling before once again turning serious. "Jokes aside though. If you want to, go find Desdemona and check on how her side of things is progressing. I'll catch up with you both in a few minutes once our guest arrives."
"Alright, will do." Loona got up, leaving the tent.
Just a minute later, she would return to the spot where Cyrus parked the truck and there, hunched over the exposed engine, was Desdemona, hands worked with a wrench between her fingers as she either tightened or loosened a particularly stubborn bolt deep in the engine's heart. Interestingly, Desdemona now wore the tactical gear of an I.R.A. Stalker uniform.
Sweat glistened on her brow despite the cool air, her focus on the engine until she sensed Loona's presence.
"What's up?" The succubus called out
"Not much. What's with the get-up?" Loona drawled, crossing her arms and leaning against the frame of the truck.
"What, didn't March tell you yet, sugar?" Desdemona's head snapped up, and she let out a rich, throaty chuckle before wiping her hands on a nearby rag. "Don't tell me you didn't realize what we're fixin' to do here."
"Not yet at least. But something with the "Trojan Horse" thing...I don't know."
In this case, Desdemona jumped out from the truck, coming closer, and she gestured to her tactical gear with obvious pride. "You and me, sweetheart', we're gonna waltz right into that base wearin' these Stalker threads. Ain't no better disguise than hidin' in plain sight, ya know?"
"What gives?"
"Um, excuse me, Lonnie. The truck, uniforms, and shit. Connect the dots."
Loona felt heat rise to her cheeks, her tail flicking with embarrassment.
"Right, yeah, I mean, I knew that. Obviously. Sorry, my mind has been occupied with other bullshit." She said quickly, uncrossing her arms. She then paused, studying Desdemona's gear. "It's just... I guess I never really thought about an a mechanic for a nomad clan could actually, you know, fight. You are, after all, a big, big deal for never stopping clan so...things tend to get pretty messy when bullets start flying."
Desdemona's laugh was like honey over gravel, warm and rough around the edges. If anything, she would find it more adorable than offensive.
"Oh, honey. I appreciate your concern; I truly do. But this old girl's been through her share of hard-times." She picked up the wrench again, giving it a casual spin before tucking it into her belt. "Trust me, if things go sideways, I ain't goin' down without one heavenuva of a fight. These hands are good for more than just fixin' engines."
"Alright, alright, you got your point across." Loona raised her palms in surrender, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She then glanced around the garage, looking to notice it. "So, where's my Stalker disguise? I can see you're wearing the same gear as those two I.R.A. assholes I dealt with Cyrus."
"Your suit's gettin' patched up right about now, sugar. Can't have some sharp-eyed I.R.A. rebel noticin' you got yourself a punctured suit, now can we? Especially since we're gonna be tellin' folks we're still drivin' that contaminated rust bucket of a vehicle."
"So basically, make it as natural as possible for rebels?"
"Yyeeep."
"How was it punctured, though?"
"You know how it is when you don't want somethin’ they really want."
"Resistance at first and all of that?" Loona assumed, to which Desdemona nodded. "And speaking of, what exactly happened to these two?"
"Same fate that every rebel gets when Satan's Legion gets their hands on ya, darlin'," Even Desdemona's optimistic tone faded away. "Take yourself a little walk down that main road out there and see for yourself what happens to folks who cross the wrong demons in this Asmodeusforsaken place."
"Damn..." Loona felt a chill run down her spine from the way she said that.
Thankfully, Millie would already, though she was barely recognizable beneath the full I.R.A. gear that encased her small frame. The uniform was slightly designed for someone taller than her, but the sleeves had been rolled up and the legs cuffed; somehow she made it work.
"Anti-Christ, Mills. Did you buy into I.R.A's bullshit and switch sides on us?" Loona couldn't help herself. Des, in the meantime, would pat Loona's shoulder as the succubus needs to finish the work on the engine.
"Hon, if I was really part of the I.R.A., they would've reached the Wrath Ring by now." Millie laughed in response, adjusting her holster on her left hip. "But seriously, It's a getup,"
"Yeah, I got that from Desdemona wearing it too." Loona replied, nodding toward the mechanic while she was busy with the engine. "I'm just a little worried about whether the rebels will realize we're not the real ones."
"Simple, Lons. just behave like your old self. You know, snarky, rebellious and doesn't take shit from anyone. Should come natural." Millie joked. But instead of the expected comeback, Loona's shoulders sagged slightly, and she let out a long, tired sigh.
"I'm... I'm trying not to be like that anymore, Mills."
"I know, Loona," Seeing that she is not in the Mood, Millie instead replied in a gentle voice, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Loona's arm. "And I see the progress you're makin'. You're doin' great, really you are."
"Getting older, I suppose." Loona shrugged at that as Millie joined her, leaning against the truck frame.
"Number one curse for all of us, huh?" Millie grinned, understanding Loona's concerns, as Millie too feels it. She is not in her prime like she used to be...
"I guess...but....feel wiser, I suppose." Loona again tried to find proper words. "You know?"
"Of course, you hit that moment where you sometimes see who you truly are. I know I do...Moxxie too"
"Really?"
"Yeah, had a talk before I left with you and the rest. In his own words, he stared at Death, and Death stared back at him...sometimes after that kind of experience, you reflect on yourself and choices in your life."
"I understand his feelings..." Loona slowly nodded, remembering those memories. "Ugh, wish he would be with us right now. I would rather face the impossible with you and him instead...ya know. Makes me feel at peace, I suppose."
"I know. But I'm glad Moxxie ain't here right now. Would've been... much more difficult for me to handle the whole thing with him around."
Despite her words, Loona saw there was a sadness in Millie's tone. Even better, her fingers absently traced the grip of her knife. It's a nervous habit Loona had noticed from Millie at times.
"You worried about him? I mean, you looked like you didn't want to leave him when that Forcas dude started bossing around." Loona asked, trying to be gentle. Loona doesn't deny that she's never been particularly good at emotional conversations, but she at least wants to try.
Surprisingly, Millie just gently laughed and waved Loona off to not worry her mind.
"Come on, sweetie. I already made a fool of myself believin' you and March killed Moxxie. I'm confident he's fine, restin' up back in New Limbo. But I..." Millie trailed off, then seemed to gather herself. "It's just I've been thinkin' about this whole contract we took. The bounty on Moxxara, that is."
"You regret taking it?" Loona assumed where this conversation was going.
"No-No, I don't regret it. We all need the money in the end. It just...feels like it's gonna bring a lot more bad things in the future, you know?" Millie explained, with the kind of conviction that suggested she'd asked herself the same question many times. "I never told any of you before, but I despise working for the government in any form. Working for our boss is straightforward and simple. Worst you can get is your pa's craziness at times. But all this shit with the I.R.A., the Legion, and rescuin' Lady Octavia from whatever clusterfuck she's gotten herself into... it all feels somehow like we're caught up in somethin' way bigger than just takin' out one traitorous bitch."
"How so?" Loona shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, think about it. Business contract we have every day are straight, on front and easy to understand. You get a mission to kill a guy on the mortal plane, and volla, you get paid. With the governmental contract...it's a rabbit hole with a full can of worms, not knowing the intentions of your clients, not to mention how impactful it can be...something that brings a lot of unwelcome eyes and a target mark painted on your back at any time." Millie explained as she turned to face Loona directly, and for a moment, the hellhound saw past her friend's tough exterior to something raw and honest underneath. "I'm hopin' you and me can take down this Traitorous Legatus together. Get Octavia back safe, finish this job, and then...maybe we can all go home and think about a...much simpler life."
"Simpler life?" Loona blinked in surprise, then let out a bark of laughter that drew curious glances from passing legionaries. "Millie, are you actually thinking about retiring?"
Millie chuckled softly as a wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"Not retiring, silly. Just take more...easy going way from now on. Before I met you and Moxxie, I spent my time hustlin' after hustlin'. One job after another, always lookin' for the next score...or the next chance to prove I was tougher than Sallie to my family. It was fun, you know? Exciting. Made me feel alive."
Unfortunately, her smile faded gradually, replaced by something more...personal. She glanced toward the medical tent visible in the distance, where Legion medics moved between the wounded with practiced efficiency.
"But I'm thirty-two now, Loonie...with sixteen years of wonderin' if each job might be the one that doesn't let us come home or losing Moxxie. After what happened to him... seein' him be broken on the bed because of stupid contract Blitzo signed..."
She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. She didn't want to blame Blitzo for she knew it's not his fault in the first place.
"I'm startin' to think of wanting a change of pace...like, once we get our money from the bounty, I think of maybe buying a little house somewhere quiet with Moxxie to move in. So that I could wake up in the mornin' without worryin' about who might be tryin' to kill us that day....maybe a garden too, I think."
"That...actually sounds kind of nice," Loona admitted, surprising herself that she was agreeing with the idea of...different life from I.M.P. "Though I can't picture you in a garden without a weapon nearby."
"Oh, I'd definitely keep a shotgun nearby. Some habits die hard." Millie's grin returned, bright and genuine this time. "But again, it's just my thoughts. Maybe once we get the head of that traitorous bitch, I will fill up my craving for violence. You know, the usual Millie you know and love."
"Aha...I have no doubts about it." Loona found herself smiling in response. As weird as it was, Moxxie getting injured and Loona and Millie nearly wanting to kill each other actually brought them much closer...It's so weird how so much bullshit they endured in Ring of Limbo only bonded them much more.
"Yeah..." Millie released a breath, going for a short silent moment before she broke it once more. "What about you, though? What does Loona see for herself down the road?"
"Me?" Loona blinked, caught off guard by the question.
"Yeah, you. Don't tell me you plan on clingin' to Blitzo until he's old and gray and being secretary for the rest of eternity." Millie was gentle but probing a bit, curious since Loona doesn't talk much about herself. "You got your whole afterlife ahead of you, hon. Got to be somethin' you want for yourself."
Loona opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. Her eyes drifted toward the training grounds, watching the Legion soldiers move through their drills, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. The silence stretched longer than either of them expected.
"I want to... be alive," Loona said quietly, directing her gaze at Millie. "Really alive, that is."
"What do ya mean by that, sweetie? You're more alive than most demons I know." Millie's eyebrows drew together in confusion.
"No, I'm not, Mills." Loona shook her head slowly, her gaze dropping to her boots. "I'm just... exist. Going through the motions. Getting up, answering phones, being a bitch to everyone, going to sleep, repeat. That's not living; that's just... surviving."
She lifted her head, and Millie could see the years of accumulated pain behind her friend's eyes.
"All my life, I've been searching for answers, hoping I'd find some kind of purpose in this cruel afterlife. Something that would make all the shit worth it, you know? But I...I don't have anyone, Mills. Not really. I burned bridges with everyone who ever tried to get close. Humiliated demons, bullied them, pushed them away before they could leave me first."
Millie remained silent, sensing that Loona needed to get this out. This is Loona being...her true self.
"And that's what scares me the most. I'm afraid to die alone. Not just physically alone, but... actually alone. With no one who gives a shit about whether I lived or died or no one to remember me. Just... gone, like I never mattered at all."
Millie was quiet for a long moment, processing everything Loona had just shared. She'd known Loona was struggling with the common problem for many. Search for purpose. She had sensed the loneliness beneath all that anger and sarcasm, but hearing it laid out so starkly was almost overwhelming.
"You don't have to..." Millie muttered.
"Don't have to what?" Loona looked up.
"Die alone." Millie stepped closer, earnest. "You don't have to die alone, Loona. Moxxie and me... we'll be here for you. Whatever happens, you got us. And you always will." She paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as another thought occurred to her. "It would be nice if Moxxie and my kid had an aunt to cling to. Someone who could teach 'em how to be tough, to stand up for themselves and... well, how to be real."
Loona stared at her for several heartbeats, her mouth slightly open as she processed what Millie had just offered. The concept of being someone's aunt was so foreign for her. It took her a moment to even grasp it.
"You... you really want that?"
Millie lowered her eyes to the ground, her boots scuffing against the packed earth of the compound. When she looked back up at Loona, her smile was soft but showed how much Millie...had seen it all.
"I have so many regrets in my life, Loonie. Never imagined I'd end up being a killer or an assassin when I was growin' up on the farm. Used to think I'd marry some nice imp boy and spend my days tendin' crops and raisin' babies." She let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.
"That really isn't you."
"I know; even looking back at it makes me laugh that I used to believe that. Got rebellious, I suppose." Millie shook her head, finding it funny how much she is different from Millie, who was too innocent for this afterlife. "Devil or Satan or whatever out there had other plans for me. But I don't regret joinin' I.M.P, meetin' you and Moxxie...and don't regret any of the crazy shit we've been through together. You two... you're my family now. The best family I've ever had, if I'm bein' honest."
"Yeah...we had a quiet ride, didn't we?" Loona slowly said, finding it charming how much shit they've gotten into for past...10 years or more under I.M.P. "Can't imagine how it will end..."
"Everything's got to come to an end, one way or another. But that's when a new chapter begins for all of us. And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have help me write that chapter than you, Loona."
"I..." Loona started, then stopped. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'd like that, Mills."
Millie's smile widened, glad that she accepted. But then her eyes drifted past Loona toward where Marchosias could be seen in the distance, coordinating with some Legion officers. It made her wonder.
"You know... I can see you and Lord Marchosias being together, to put it mildly..."
"What the heaven is that supposed to mean?" Loona's tail went rigid behind her, and her cheeks flushed beneath her fur.
"Oh, come on now, don't play dumb with me." Millie chuckled, finding it adorable of Loona's discomfort. "The way you look at him and the fact that he's the only demon I've seen who can make you smile without gettin' his throat ripped out in return tells me everything I should know."
"There's nothing - " Loona began to protest, but Millie cut her off with a dismissive wave.
"Oh, stop that, Loona. Devil knows you could use some happiness in your life, and he seems decent enough. Don't waste time by beating yourself up over Tex's girlfriend. You know you and that cute wolf-noble are perfect for each other. If I were you and didn't know Moxxie, I would pursue it."
Loona's flush deepened, spreading from her cheeks down her neck. She crossed her arms defensively.
"I dunno, Mils. It's just. that...well March is... decent, yeah. For the short while I've known him, he's been kind." She admitted reluctantly. "But I'm sure he finds me annoying and unbearable....most days I find myself annoying and unbearable."
"Stop that bullshit right there." Millie's voice sharpened a bit, despising Loona's self-deprecation. "You're doin' that thing again where you convince yourself nobody could possibly want you around. Listen to me. Marchosias is a decent hound, just like you said. And more importantly, he's noble blood and doesn't have anyone in his life. You know what that means if things worked out between you two?"
"That I'd have to learn proper table manners?" Loona stared at her blankly.
"Marquise-Consort Loona, I meant." Millie said with obvious relish, drawing out each syllable. "Talk about your ultimate 'rags to riches' story, hon. From abandoned hellhound to Ars Goetia nobility. That's the kind of fairy tale shit that'd make even the Greed Ring gossip columnists weep with envy."
Loona's mouth fell open slightly as the implications sank in. The idea was so foreign, so impossibly far from anything she'd ever imagined for herself, that her brain seemed to stall trying to process it.
"That's... that's ridiculous, Mills. Demons like me don't end up with titles and nobility. We end up in gutters or mass graves."
"Demons like you end up wherever they decide to end up, Loona. And if you decide you want to try for somethin' better, then you damn well try for it. Your own father is a prime example." Millie countered firmly. "Worst case scenario? He says no, and you move on. Best case? You get yourself a happy ending and a fancy title."
Before Loona could respond to Millie's encouragement, the sound of approaching footsteps on gravel caught both their attention. Marchosias alongside Cyrus, who wore I.R.A uniform arrived, but it was the third figure that immediately drew Loona's scrutiny. An imp wore a sharp pinstripe suit in charcoal gray, complete with a matching fedora tilted at just the right angle to cast shadows across his face. His shoes were polished to a mirror shine, and a thin tie completed the ensemble.
"Just remember what I said, sweetie," Millie whispered quickly to Loona. She then fell silent, though the knowing look in her eyes suggested their conversation was far from over. She busied herself checking her pistol's mags, but Loona could see the small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Sorry for the delay, everyone. Had to make sure we got everything sorted properly before moving forward." Marchosias called out as he approached. He set the crate down with a solid thunk near the truck's rear bumper. "Loona, your disguise is ready. Full Stalker gear, patched and cleaned just for you. Should fit you perfectly."
"Yeah, I figured as much. Already filled me in on the basics." Loona replied, nodding toward where Desdemona continued her work on the engine. Her eyes then shifted to the imp in the pinstripe suit, who had remained silent. There was something about his stillness that set her on edge. "What's with the guy?"
"He's part of the Frumentarii Unit of Satan's Legion," Marchosias explained, his tone taking on a more serious edge. "And he has something that might help with our operation."
That imp stepped closer to the group. Without a word, he reached into the inner pocket of his pinstripe coat, and he withdrew...a photograph, which made everyone's breath catch in their throats. The imp extended the picture toward Loona and the others.
"Shit...Tavi." Loona cursed.
This picture showed Octavia unconscious, lying on what appeared to be a crude metal cot in a dimly lit cell. The stone walls around her were stained with moisture and age, suggesting she was being held somewhere deep underground.
"Poor girl..." Milie slowly shook her head as her jaw tightened visibly.
"The photograph was taken less than 3 hours ago by our mole within the I.R.A. base. They confirmed Lady Octavia is being held at the target facility at this very moment you and I speak." That imp spoke in a voice so low and chilling. He slipped the photograph back into his coat, giving a slight nod toward Marchosias. "My spy will provide assistance once you reach the base. The rest will be explained by your primary contact here. Arriverderci, demons."
Without another word, that man tipped his fedora once more and turned toward the garage exit. Marchosias moved to the military supply crate he'd brought in earlier and gestured for the group to form a circle around it.
"Alright, everyone gather around this crate."
Loona pushed herself off the truck frame as Millie stepped closer. Desdemona wiped her hands clean on a nearby rag before joining them with Cyrus. Once everyone had positioned themselves around the makeshift briefing table, Marchosias rolled out a piece of parchment and unrolled the document carefully, revealing a detailed architectural layout of what appeared to be a substantial compound.
"Satan's Legion intelligence believes this facility is an old psychic ward that belonged to Pre-War Limbo..." Marchosias began, his clawed finger tracing the outer perimeter of the structure shown on the map. "We cannot say for what purpose other than to contain and treat demons with severe mental afflictions...or worse. Why does it matter to us? It means there will be thick walls, reinforced security measures, and isolation cells. Thus, everything you'd expect from that kind of place."
"Perfect place for Prince Gaap, though." Desdemona made a joke, causing some smirks from Millie and Loona.
Marchosias responded with a smile but continued. "Now the I.R.A. has repurposed it as a local base for their regional command."
"Seems kinda strange they'd set up shop so close to New Limbo," Millie frowned as she looked at the map. "Most rebel groups, I assume, prefer to keep their distance from major population centers. Too much risk of hostile patrols and civilian informants."
"They're very flexible when it comes to that." Marchosias nodded, understanding her concern. "The I.R.A.'s leadership is constantly on the move. If they lose this base, they can easily relocate their command structure to another facility within days. The proximity to the city actually works in their favor for rapid redeployment and resource acquisition."
"Think top brass will be there, lord?" Cyrus asked.
"Could be, Cyrus. But Octavia is what is important to us. Leave the rest to Forcas' worries." Marchosias assured that these types of questions will be handled by others. But their only job is Octavia’s rescue. "Here's how we're going to handle this. Under Knight Forcas's overall command, we'll be operating with two distinct teams. Team A will serve as the main infiltration and assault unit, while Team B provides support and backup."
"I'm guessing this is where I and the rest go in?" Loona studied the layout for a moment before looking up at Marchosias, hoping for more input.
Marchosias gave a confirming nod. "Exactly. You, Millie, Desdemona, and Cyrus will comprise Team A. Your job is to get inside, locate Octavia, and extract her safely. Forcas will handle the "Chaos" part of our plan."
"And how exactly do we pull that off? This place looks like a fortress, and I'm betting they didn't leave the front door unlocked for us." Loona crossed her arms.
"That's where the beauty of this plan comes in, Loona." Marchosias replied, tapping different sections of the map as he spoke. "Desdemona and you will pose as a Stalker team delivering loot to the base, just like any other routine supply run. Since the I.R.A. knows their teams operate in specific pairs, it has to be exactly two operators, a female hellhound and a succubus. That's why I chose you and Des specifically."
"No, shit, my Lord. I thought you just wanted Des and me to wear tight uniforms for your pleasure." Loona sarcastically commented.
“I do look good in tight suits.” Desdemona rolled her eyes, muttering to herself.
"Don't need someone to wear it to appreciate the beauty, Loona." Marchosias chuckled. Millie, behind him, would wiggle her eyebrows at Loona, giving an "I told you he is perfect for you" gesture but had to turn serious when March shifted his attention to Millie and Cyrus. "For you two, having those rebel disguises is perfect, but there's a slight problem. If either of you is spotted outside the main garrison area, the I.R.A. will realize immediately that something's wrong. They're currently mobilizing every available unit for their full assault, which means any soldiers wandering around where they shouldn't be will raise immediate red flags."
"And I take it you have a solution, my lord?" Cyrus assumed.
Marchosias reached and withdrew a second set of maps, these ones showing detailed cross-sections and underground layouts. He spread them across the crate beside the first set.
"There's another entry point that should work for you two, though it's going to be slightly more... physically demanding. The old drainage system that connects to the original asylum's infrastructure. It's still intact and should provide direct access to the lower levels of the facility."
Millie leaned forward to examine the underground schematics more closely, growing increasingly resigned.
"Of course," She muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "It's always the damn sewers and swimming in a pile of shit for me."
"I know it's disgusting, but it's the only way." Marchosias acknowledged with a slight grimace of his own. "Once Loona and Des pass through the main checkpoint, they need to make sure to mention that their truck is still contaminated from whatever job those I.R.A stalkers did before. They'll be directed to the cleaning bay to wash both the truck and themselves of any toxic waste on them. That's where the drainage system connects directly to the facility's lower levels."
"And that's where we come in?" Millie assumed.
"Aha. It will allow Loona and Des to open the access point from the other side of the manhole to let you and Cyrus inside. It also explains why Des and Loona would need extended time in the decon area from the I.R.A.'s point of view. Gives our two "stalkers" over here plenty of opportunity to get you and Cyrus inside."
"And what happens after that? Once we're all inside, how do we actually find Octavia in this maze?" Loona wanted to hear the main part of all of it.
"That's where our mutual spy comes into play," Marchosias replied, tapping the side of his muzzle thoughtfully. "He or she will provide guidance once you're inside the facility since they know the layout better to direct you to wherever they're holding her."
"How do we contact them?"
"If they see you, they might stir up a conversation with you. If they use the phrase, "May I ask, do you have a geiger counter?" you answer " Mine is in the pocket." then our spy will realize you came from the Fort."
"Secret phrases, huh. Alright. Got it, March." Loona acknowledged that.
"Good." In this case, Marchosias rolled up the secondary maps and set them aside, focusing attention back on the main facility blueprint. "Now, the hard part. Once you secure Octavia and begin extraction, that's when things get complicated. The I.R.A. won't take kindly to their prize prisoner simply walking out the front door. Knight Forcas will commence a full-scale assault on the facility to provide cover for your escape and prevent any pursuit. Any questions?"
"A couple. What about Team B?"
"Striker and Husk already departed with the scout party. They will establish a vantage point that provides them clear lines of sight to the facility. If any problems occur during the infiltration or extraction, they'll provide covering fire and eliminate any threats that might compromise the mission. I will give you the earpieces in our mutual channel with Forcas, Team B, and you, friends."
"Okay, then. Second question: why is Desdemona tampering with the truck's engines?"
"Depending on who will be standing on guard post, they might force you two to search even if they think you still didn't have showers. In this case, Desdemona tampered with your truck so that as soon as she changed the gearstick into shift 1, the engines would break down into a smoke."
"It's not that, actually." Desdemona corrected him. "Some of you probably know that a tachometer shows you the rotation speed of a shaft or disk in a motor. I tampered with the disks a bit so when I force the truck to full power, the disk goes haywire and causes malfunction."
"I'm not a car expert, but isn't it like as soon as you hit the gas, the engine would combust?" Loona didn't understand Des' logic.
"No, if you want to make the car move, you push and then release the clutch for the vehicle to push itself forward. Gas pedal then does the rest. What I mean is that as soon as I set the shift on neutral and then push the gas, the engines will combust and force it into emergency mode. Seeing our truck deciding to die will make them rethink checking us out since a faulty, contaminated truck stuck where non-Hazmat-wearing personnel can be...problematic."
"Would it not be weird if that truck just died in front of them?"
"Happens all the time, especially in the army of any kind. "Broke, fix it. Ain't broke, don't fix it" is a golden rule for engineers or mechanics. So don't you worry, Loona, worst case, I will play an innocent bimbo to let them pass just in case."
"Got your answer, Loona?"
"Yes, but what about explosives in the truck?"
"Special gift for I.R.A in fireworks after the whole party will start with Forcas' forces and rebels. The Knight himself has the detonator."
"Are you fucking with me?" Loona scowled.
"Forcas is not an idiot. You will be fine." Marchosias assured before glancing at the rest. "Any more questions?"
"One thing, March." Loona shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It's something that was nagging at her. "You've told us all about us, but you haven't mentioned what your part is in all this. Where exactly do you fit into this clusterfuck?"
"I'm the bait, in a manner of speaking, Loona." Marchosias's confident demeanor faltered for just a moment; he doesn't like to reveal it, but he has to.
"Excuse me? What in heaven do you mean, 'bait'?" Loona went full "overprotective" mode in March. "You can't just-"
Marchosias held up both hands in a placating gesture, though the gesture did little to ease Loona.
"Before you all start planning my funeral, let me explain. This is more of Duke Focalor's plan than Knight Forcas', though our young bird has been briefed on it. What happened with Hati before... it proved something we'd all been suspecting but hoping wasn't true."
"Heaven..." Cyrus slowly said.
"Yes...Heaven is directly involved in this conflict, backing the I.R.A. with resources and quite possibly personnel." Marchosias nodded grimly. "And if Heaven has committed Exorcist forces to support the I.R.A.'s goals, there's a very real possibility that some of those angels might be present at the facility where you'll be conducting your rescue mission."
"So, your brilliant plan is to do what, exactly? Paint a target on your back and hope they come for you instead of us?" The sarcasm in Loona's voice barely masked the genuine fear underneath.
"Something like that, yes." Marchosias's attempt at a casual tone fell flat. "We've deliberately fed compromised information through several channels that Amy Goetia used. If Gaap tells the truth that he is a target by Exorcists, then we decided to indulge I.R.A with that info, which means Gaap with me is planning to return from this to New Limbo, coordinating Legion defenses with Duke Focalor from within the city itself."
"But Gaap won't be..." Cyrus saw the logic.
"No, he's not. He will be with Forcas, being his usual self and contributing absolutely nothing useful." Marchosias couldn't quite keep the irritation out of his voice. "But the I.R.A. doesn't know that. As far as their intelligence network is concerned, one of Hell's prince and Marquis will be traveling together from the fort to the city like a fat, tempting target."
"And you're gonna be the one to sell that lie. Make yourself look like you're escorting Gaap to New Limbo?"
"Precisely. Like Cyrus and I agreed, I'll be departing with the Aldecaldos convoy, taking the main road toward New Limbo. It's a route that's been specifically chosen because our reconnaissance confirms there are I.R.A. scouting parties positioned along that particular path. It's supposed to seem convenient. We want the I.R.A. to believe we've found a 'safe' route to the city, one they've deliberately monitored to lull them into a false sense of security and confidence."
"And then what?"
"If Heaven's forces believe they have a chance to eliminate a Goetia Marquis with the Prince of Goetia, they'll commit significant resources to that...the same resources that won't be available to defend the facility where you'll be rescuing Octavia."
"Oh, for moon's sake..." Loona muttered, rubbing her temples. Loona had to admit it was a good plan, but that didn't make her feel any better about it. The idea of Marchosias deliberately putting himself in danger as a distraction made her stomach clench with anxiety she wasn't prepared to examine too closely. "So, you're deliberately walking into what might be a trap, hoping to draw their attention away from our actual mission? What happens when they realize you're not actually leading them to Gaap? When they figure out it's a diversion?"
"Then the Aldecaldos and I run like heaven and hope we're fast enough to avoid getting our souls permanently erased by angelic weaponry." His attempt at humor didn't quite land. "But that's a bridge we'll cross when we come to it. The important thing is buying you all the time and distraction you need to get Octavia out safely."
"This is insane; there has to be another way." Loona tried to make him see the reason.
"You're very concerned about me, Loona." Marchosias met her eyes.
"Of course, I'm fucking concerned! Cyrus and I lost Hati already, and you on the plate will be just a fancy dessert for us!"
"She is right. This is a risky move, my lord." Cyrus had to admit that it was dangerous.
"If there was a different solution, we'd be using it, Cyrus." Marchosias reached out, his clawed hand briefly touching her shoulder in a gesture. "I won't pretend this isn't dangerous, Loona. But everything about this is dangerous. At least this way, we will have some chances."
"March...please, not you too." Loona begged him to reconsider, even grabbing his arm that was holding her shoulder, being very sincere.
Marchosias studied Loona's face for a long moment, taking in the genuine fear and concern. Her grip on his arm was firm, almost desperate, and he could feel the slight tremor in her clawed fingers.
"I need you to understand this, In order to protect someone in dire times, hellhounds must be prepared to sacrifice everything. The Moon of Hell has watched over hellhounds for millennia, Loona. She's seen countless wars, countless battles, and countless impossible situations.”
"Screw this mythological bullshit, March. They're long dead!"
"But principles remain to this day. I'm a hellhound, Loona. But also I'm Ars Goetia, and we have our own beliefs. Although I'm not liking it at all, I won't deny this: we are at war with I.R.A that seeks to destroy us. It's either we stop them first or they stop us...might as well be them."
She looked down at her boots for several heartbeats, processing his words. When she finally lifted her head again, there was a reluctant acceptance in her gaze, mixed with lingering concern.
"You better be right about that Moon watching over you," She said quietly, slowly releasing her grip on his arm. This is pretty much the end of Marchosias' debriefing. "Where can I change into this Stalker uniform anyway? I'm assuming you didn't expect me to strip down right here in front of the entire Legion."
"That tent over there on the left, hon" Desdemona looked up from where she'd been organizing some equipment near the truck, wiping her hands on a rag as she pointed toward the left side of the compound. "It's the medical supply tent, but it's mostly empty right now. Should give you enough space and privacy."
"Thanks, Des." Loona nodded at her, then turned back to Marchosias. There was something almost hesitant in her posture, as if she wanted to ask but wasn't sure how to phrase it. "March, would you... could you walk with me to the tent? I know it sounds stupid, but I'd prefer to have a noble watching over me in this hostile camp. Most of these Legion soldiers probably aren't too fond of hellhounds to begin with..."
The request was delivered with an attempt at casual indifference, but Marchosias could hear the underlying uncertainty in her voice. There must be more than Loona doesn't say.
"No problem at all, Loona." Marchosias replied without hesitation, already moving to walk alongside her.
Cyrus watched them go as the two of them walked toward the indicated tent. Once they were out of immediate earshot, he turned to Millie with a slight shake of his head.
"Your friend took it the hardest. Poor girl looked like someone had just told her the Wild Hunt has come."
"Of course she's worried about him putting himself in danger, Big Guy. She's acting just like I do when Moxxie's in trouble...all protective but not trying to show it." Millie glanced in the direction where Loona and Marchosias had disappeared between some equipment crates, then looked back at Cyrus with a small, understanding smile. "It's actually kind of sweet, seeing her care about someone that much. Even if she'd probably bite my head off for saying so."
The walk to the medical supply tent was quieter than either of them had expected. Near it, Marchosias slowed his pace slightly. When they came to stop just outside the tent's entrance, instead of simply wishing her well and departing, he turned to face her fully.
"Back there, when you asked me to walk with you... that wasn't really about wanting a noble to watch over you in a hostile camp, was it?"
"I guess I'm not being subtle here?"
"You're, Loona. But I can recognize when someone is troubled."
Loona's ears flicked slightly, and she looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. There was no point in pretending, especially not now.
"Yes...and you're right..." She admitted quietly. "Please join me inside while I change."
"I'm not sure it's appro-"
"March." Loona shushed him off, not caring about this anymore. "You and I both know I have a pair of tits and a vagina already. So, who the fuck cares if your pricks get excited? I don't give a shit, but I need you to speak with...it's really important."
Marchosias stared at her, seeing it's very urgent for her. He shook his head, recognizing that this wasn't the time for this.
"Alright." He said simply, pushing aside the canvas flap.
Loona gave a sad smile and obliged him, getting herself inside. The interior of the medical supply tent was sparse; a few crates served as makeshift furniture, and dim light filtered through the canvas walls.
She carried the equipment crate inside and set it down. When she pried open the wooden lid, both she and Marchosias peered inside at the contents. She reached in and pulled out the primary garment, holding it to see for herself...if anything, a vile disgust appeared on her lips.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me. Am I supposed to be disguising myself as a Stalker or a dominatrix? What in heaven is this thing made of?"
Marchosias stepped closer, reaching out to feel the material between his fingers. The texture was smooth but substantial, clearly engineered for more than aesthetic purposes, as Loona claims.
"It's a rubber-lead composite jumpsuit. My guess is the latex exterior provides waterproofing and chemical resistance, while the lead lining offers protection against exposure. Stalkers often work in contaminated areas of the Limbo Wasteland, so this kind of protection is essential for survival."
"I don't care what it's designed for; it still looks weird. I'm going to look like I walked out of some perverted fever dream." Loona crossed her arms, still eyeing the suit with obvious skepticism.
"It's an undersuit you wear above the clothing. The only purpose of it is to protect your body."
“Alright...thanks for not making it weird, March.”
“You’re welcome. Get dressed; I will await you here.” Marchosias replied, settling himself on one of the nearby crates and positioning himself so that he was watching the tent entrance, though he was simply giving her the privacy she needed to change.
Loona glanced at him and, for a second, thought he was just shy. She won’t lie, she wanted to make some joke about him wanting to sneak a peek or comment on the irony of a noble hellhound trying to be a gentleman while she stripped down. But the words died in her throat before she could voice them. She'd already made enough of a fool of herself with Marchosias. Twice now, in fact.
With a sigh, she began peeling off her regular clothes and slipping into the jumpsuit. The material clung to her form like a second skin, just as uncomfortable as she'd anticipated but undeniably functional. She won't lie now, for she was grateful for the privacy Marchosias was providing, even if the situation felt awkward.
"How are you doing, Loona?" Marchosias broke the silence as she worked on adjusting the suit's fit before getting the next thing.
"Peachy." She reached for the pants with suspenders, muttering under her breath to him.
The flat tone of her response made Marchosias carefully glance back over his shoulder. Seeing that she was decently covered, he turned around more fully and moved closer to her.
"How are you really doing?" He asked again, his voice gentler this time.
Loona paused in her adjustment of the suspenders, meeting his concerned gaze. She opened her mouth to give another dismissive response, then closed it, her shoulders sagging slightly.
"I'm okay, I think...I don't fucking know." Loona just waved him off and resumed by putting on the camo jacket and avoiding his eyes. "It doesn’t help that you're volunteering for this suicide run, March. It's fucking stupid of you and reckle-"
"You're going on a dangerous mission too..." Marchosias pointed out quietly, cutting through her building agitation.
"Well, yeah BUT-" Loona struggled for the right words, her hands stilling on the tactical vest she'd been about to put on. "Look, I...I'm worried about you. I know that probably sounds stupid coming from me, but I am."
"I understand, Loona. There's nothing wrong with feeling that way." Marchosias replied, his voice warm with genuine appreciation that she cared for him. "But...I can see there's something else nagging at you other than you being worried."
Loona fell silent at that, her jaw working as if she wanted to say something but couldn't quite force the words out. She picked up the bulletproof vest, focusing intently on checking its straps and fastenings, using the mundane task as an excuse to avoid his gaze. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Loona spoke again.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
"What's on your mind?"
"Your family... your biological, I mean. Remember our conversation in your castle? You mentioned before that it wasn't exactly... nice." She paused, searching for the right words. with her ears twitching nervously as she continued fiddling with the tactical vest's straps.
Marchosias let out a low chuckle, though there was no humor in the sound. "Being the bastard son of a whore and a noble does absolute wonders for one's public image, as you can imagine. But why are you asking?"
"What were they like? Your mother and father, I mean." Loona felt her stomach clench as she set down the tactical vest entirely, giving him her full attention. She really doesn't want to probe him about this. But she wants to hear so that she can gather her own courage.
"I don't know much about my mother, honestly." Marchosias was quiet for a long moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. "She was...she worked the streets...or the brothels...or wherever she could make enough coin to survive another day. My father was presumably just another client...hence the reason I'm standing here. Then one day, she found herself pregnant with me. And suddenly, she saw an opportunity to claw her way up from the slums and into riches and status. She was desperate...desperate enough to try and make herself into nobility through sheer force of will and delusion."
"How delusional, you mean?" Loona asked quietly, though she suspected she already knew part of the answer.
"She named me Marchosias," He replied with a bitter smile. "It's another word for 'Marquis' in the old Ars Goetia tongue. She thought if she gave me a noble name, if she could somehow convince the right demons that I had a legitimate claim to a title, then maybe she could become a...Marquise or something like that, she thought."
"I take it that's not how it worked?"
"No...if a son becomes a noble while their parents are still alive, they will get nothing."
"Damn, March." Loona's chest tightened as she began to understand the full scope of the tragedy. A desperate woman clinging to impossible dreams...sounds like Loona herself. "And your father?"
Marchosias's expression hardened slightly, though the pain remained evident in his eyes. "President-Elector of Ars Goetia. High-ranking noble that wouldn't appreciate the scandal of acknowledging a bastard son born from a street prostitute."
"Do you... do you and he ever talk?"
"Barely; we might exchange a few words if we happen to cross paths, usually just enough to maintain the pretense of civility."
"So, you've always been alone," She said quietly. It wasn't really a question.
"Always...no real family to speak of. Just me, trying to carve out some kind of place for myself in a plane that never quite knew what to do with me."
"Just like me..." Loona felt her throat tighten with emotion she wasn't prepared for. "If it's okay to ask. What happened to your mother in the end?"
"She died from syphilis..." Marchosias's smile turned even more bitter, if that was possible. He was quiet for several heartbeats. "Moon, I was six months or so when she died...don't remember the face, really. Everything I know about her comes from dossiers I was granted years later."
"And that's how you ended up in the Adoption Center..."
"Yes, just another unwanted hellhound pup with nowhere else to go and no one to claim him. The Ring of Gluttony couldn't exactly dump a child with noble blood on the streets, as it would send the wrong message to the populace. But they couldn't place me with a proper Goetia family either. So, I became a ward of the system, bouncing between facilities until I was old enough to make my own way in the world."
"Funny how they dumped us..." Loona shook her head as she finally looked up at him; her eyes were bright with unshed tears that she was desperately trying to hold back. "At times I tried to forget that time, but...ever since Blitzo adopted me, there's been this...this fucking nagging in the back of my mind that just won't shut up."
Marchosias remained silent, sensing that she needed to get this out without interruption. He could see the way her hands trembled slightly.
"For years, I told myself it didn't matter. That I was better off not knowing, that whoever dumped me at that adoption center probably had good reasons, or at least reasons I could live with." Her voice cracked slightly on the last words, and she had to pause to collect herself. "But now I'm 27 fucking years old, March and that nagging has gotten louder and louder until it's practically screaming in my head every damn day!"
The tears she'd been fighting finally spilled over, tracking down her furred cheeks. Marchosias felt his own chest tighten at the sight of her tears, at the desperate need written across every line of her face. He'd seen Loona angry, sarcastic, defensive, even vulnerable...but he'd never seen her this completely stripped bare.
"It hurts, I know," he said gently, soft with sympathy.
"Of course, it fucking hurts!" The words exploded out of her with such force that Marchosias actually flinched back slightly. "They dropped me like I was trash in a dumpster, March! Like I was nothing! Just some unwanted piece of garbage they couldn't be bothered to deal with!"
Her hands were shaking now, the tactical vest falling to the ground as she wrapped her arms around herself, purely self-protective.
"And now I'm being fucking blackmailed by Gaap of all demons just to get the information I desperately want. He's dangling my past in front of me like a treat, making me promise to stay out of Octavia's business, all so I can finally learn who I really am."
Marchosias was quiet for a long moment, processing everything she'd just revealed. He
"I'm not surprised he would do this, Loona. Ars Goetia treats hellhounds worse than dirt on the ground. Had their way with us, we would have been just a part of history...nothing more. But that doesn't make it right for him to uphold."
“I know! That’s why I want to murder him!” Loona wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, leaving damp streaks in her fur. It made Marchosias only shake his head, knowing how much pain Loona endures right now.
"What are you going to do? Once you learn all of it, I mean. What then?"
"I don't know!" Loona has been asking herself the same question without finding any satisfactory answers. "I honestly don't fucking know, March. Part of me wants to find them and demand answers for why they threw me away. Other Part wants to make them hurt the way they hurt me...to watch them burn in fire!"
"Loona..." Marchosias calmly responded, disapproving of her thoughts. Revenge won't bring good feelings...only emptiness.
"I know... I just can't think straight!" She paused, her gaze dropping to her hands as she continued. "But another part of me is terrified of what I might find. What if they're dead? What if they're alive, but they still don't want me? What if learning the truth is somehow worse than not knowing?" Her voice broke again on the last question, and she had to take a shaky breath before continuing. "What if I find out that I really was just... unwanted trash that nobody could love?"
"You lie to yourself, Loona. You're not the - " Marchosias responded, offering comfort, but before he could touch her shoulder, something in Loona's fury shifted. The vulnerable, broken look suddenly hardened, twisting into something raw and furious. Her lips pulled back to reveal her sharp teeth as she screamed at him.
"I AM trash! I'm worthless, unwanted garbage that nobody in this entire fucking universe can stand to be around! Everyone hates me, Marchosias! EVERYONE! And you know what's even more fucked up? The few demons who don't hate me outright only see me as some kind of... of fetish object! Some fucking 'hot stuff' with tits and ass that they can drool over! Do you have any idea what it's like to go on dating sites and have every single message be about how I'm 'exotic' or 'wild' or asking if I want to be their 'good little bitch'? They don't see me as Loona. They see a walking furry fantasy! A piece of meat and a tail they can grab!"
Her voice broke completely on the last words, and suddenly all the rage seemed to drain out of her at once. Her shoulders sagged, her ears drooped, and she collapsed to her knees on the tent floor, her body wracked with sobs that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul.
"I'm so fucking tired of it. I'm tired of being nothing but 'furry waifu material' to perverts on social media! I'm tired of demons treating me like I should be grateful for their attention just because they want to fuck me! I really am just a worthless slut who deserves to be alone...maybe that's why my parents threw me away. They could see what I was going to become and decided to cut their losses early."
Without hesitation, Marchosias dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. Loona didn't resist the embrace. If anything, she seemed to melt into his warmth, her clawed hands fisting in the fabric of his robes as she continued to cry against his chest. The sobs seemed endless, years of suppressed pain and self-hatred finally finding release.
1) "Sen benim ayıma ışıksın, kutsal Vekil She-Rah, bu köpeği toprakları dolaşırken sonsuza kadar yönlendir, ne zaman durması, ne zaman yerleşmesi gerektiğini bilmez." Marchosias held her through all of it, his voice a constant, soothing presence as he whispered gentle words of comfort.
"I... I don't understand what you just said." She mumbled against his chest, her voice hoarse from crying. She pulled back slightly to look up at him, eyes still bright with tears but no longer filled with that terrible, self-destructive rage. "But you sound like a fucking dork when you speak... whatever that was. You're such a fucking dork, March."
"Old Vicarian poetry in begone era..." Marchosias smiled down at her. He reached up to gently brush away some of the tears still clinging to her fur. "At times, you appreciate the culture of society that only hunted and moved when prey moved to create some beautiful poetry."
"They probably didn't know what they were doing then..." Loona tried to make a joke, still sniffing. She pulled back from his embrace, though she remained close enough that their knees were still touching.
"Maybe...historians will debate on that." Marchosias simply said, offering a napkin, which Loona accepted. "But let me ask you something. Did Gaap provided anything to you...even the slightest hint?"
"Well...there is one thing." Loona sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I think he only did that to force me to do it...my surname. He said it to me."
"Which is?"
Loona was quiet for a long moment. She wiped her eyes once more before getting on her feet. Marchosias did the same.
"Loona Lindbeck. That's... that's my real name....my full name, I mean."
"Loona Lindbeck, huh?" He repeated softly, as if testing how the name felt on his tongue. "It's not bad...fits you perfectly. If anything, Lindbeck is much better than "Goetia" to me."
"Yeah, your and Octavia's surnames suck a big fat dick..." Loona found herself chuckling at his response. It was a small sound, fragile and uncertain, but it was real. "So...why do you ask?"
"If I'm not mistaken. That's not a common hellhound surname. Sounds almost..." He paused, his brow furrowing as he recalled. "It has a deep-down ring native, if I'm not mistaken. Possibly Varvolacian."
"Does that matter?" Loona asked, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"It might," Marchosias replied, his tone growing more confident as pieces began falling into place in his mind. "Even a bastard one, I'm still a Marquis, Loona. The Barrators from any Rings all have to listen to me when I make official requests."
"What are you getting at?" Loona's ears perked up slightly, though she tried to keep herself neutral.
Marchosias moved closer to her, brushing her hair away from her left eye.
"You know this already. Hellhounds are officially classified as 'Natives of the Gluttony Ring' in Hell's demographic records. That means all birth certificates, adoption papers, family lineages and everything else get filed through Queen Beelzebub's administration. Since I told you that Bee and I share one father before...I might pull off."
"March, you don't need to - " Loona started to protest, but he cut her off with a gentle shake of his head.
"I know she's notorious for her parties. I won't pretend, but she's also got access to her mother's archives. If I can convince her to help me, she could petition Queen Beelzebub I directly for your records."
"You'd... you'd really do that? For me?" Loona stared at him, wide with disbelief.
"Of course I would," Marchosias replied without hesitation. "Loona, I can see how much this is tearing you apart inside. You're searching for peace, for some kind of resolution to questions that have been haunting you your entire life. If finding those answers is what will give you that peace, then I'll be willing to get them for you."
The sincerity in his voice broke something inside Loona's chest. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, but these were different from her earlier breakdown. They were softer, warmer...and happy.
"I..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "What did I do to deserve you, March?"
"I cannot make an answer to it, Loona. Maybe the Moon looked down at two lost souls and decided we'd been alone long enough, blessing both of us with this meeting." Marchosias moved closer, his hand sliding from her shoulder to gently cup her face.
Marchosias doesn't help her when he treats her like a lady. It only makes Loona's heartbeat faster. She found herself staring at this demon she'd grown to care about, seeing him with completely new eyes. All this time, she'd been envying his noble blood, his title, and his apparent place in the world. But the reality was that he'd been just as lost and abandoned as she was, maybe even more so.
Maybe the Moon really had blessed them both, after all.
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry you have to go through all that."
"Don't apologize for things you could not control, Loona. I understand what you feel about being abandoned. Having noble blood doesn't automatically make life easier or more meaningful. And because..." He paused, seeming to gather his courage for whatever he was about to say. "Because I wanted you to know despite all the pain, it's still possible to find something worth living for. Someone worth caring about."
"Which is why I cannot just accept this, March. Do you... do you understand what I mean when I say I'm scared? It's not about rescuing Octavia, No. It's...it's about you. About this whole convoy thing and you putting yourself in danger as bait for Heaven's fucking death squads." Her voice cracked slightly on the last words. "I... for the short time I've known you, I've grown... feelings. And now you're about to go off on what might be a suicide mission, and I'm terrified that I'm going to lose you before I even have a chance to figure out what this is I have..."
Instead, Marchosias gently took her hands in his, his clawed fingers intertwining with hers.
"I know this isn't the time or place for this conversation. We're about to go on separate and there's a very real chance that one or both of us might not make it back. But I needed you to know that meeting you and getting to know you has given me something I never thought I'd have."
"What?"
"A reason to push forward. To make sure this isn't where my story ends. You just have to trust me that everything will be alright. That's all I'm asking for."
Loona felt tears threatening to spill over, and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. The simple request, delivered with such quiet confidence, should have been reassuring. But instead of calming her fears, it seemed to intensify them. Loona's grip on his hands tightened, her claws digging slightly into his skin.
Everything she'd been feeling, all the confusion and fear and desperate longing she'd been carrying around...now it suddenly made sense. This feeling she felt with Marchosias, this desperate need to protect him and be near him...it's Loona's love for him in its purest form. It's a messy one, complicated, and terrifying to lose it.
"You fucking idiot! You can't just say shit like that to me when we're about to...FUCK But what if-"
Before she could finish voicing her fears, Marchosias leaned forward and hugged her, the intimate gesture silencing her protests. When he spoke, his words were barely a whisper, meant for her ears alone.
"Trust me, Loona. Please. It's all I ask." His words were barely a whisper, meant for her ears alone.
Something in his tone made her believe him. Maybe he was good at lying, or maybe he was more sincere; Loona didn't really care. She surprised them both by returning the embrace with her hands slipped from his grasp to wrap around his waist, pulling him against her as she buried her face against his chest.
"Do you... do you really want to be with me?" She pulled back just enough to look up at him. "I mean... you're a noble. Ars Goetia bloodline, legitimate or not. You've got titles and influence." Her voice grew smaller with each word. "And I'm... I'm just a low-life hellhound from the streets."
"Remove my crown, and I'm just like you, Loona..." His thumbs brushed across her cheekbones. "What I care about is you. The real you. The demon who's brave enough to charge into danger for her friends, who's loyal enough to stand by them even when it costs her, and who's strong enough to keep fighting even when the world has given her every reason to give up. We can try, Loona. It won't hurt us to try...."
It's the only thing Loona really needed to hear from him. She pulled back slightly, though she remained in the circle of his arms.
"Promise me this isn't goodbye."
"I promise," he replied without hesitation, his hands coming up to cover hers where they rested against his chest.
"Good," Loona slowly nodded, expecting that. "And March? If you get yourself killed before we have that chance, I'll find a way to drag your soul back from whatever afterlife Ars Goetia goes to just so I can murder you myself AGAIN. Are we clear?"
"By your command, my lady." Marchosias only smiled at that. It's her way of seeing to show she cares for him.
"Good," Loona returned the smile before her left ear twitched at the sounds outside, remembering that they should not waste time. "We should..."
"Yeah, we should..." Marchosias agreed, pulling back slightly, though she didn't let go of him entirely. "Need help?"
"Yeah..." She interrupted gently, then finally stepped back to retrieve the tactical vest. "Help me get this gear on me."
Without a word, Marchosias helped adjust the vest's straps, neither two preferring to speak up since...well, more words would hurt them more if something bad happens to them. Loona stood still, allowing him to work, but she tracked his every motion.
"Arms up," he murmured, reaching for the utility belt loaded with ammunition pouches. She complied wordlessly, lifting her arms as he secured the belt around her waist, his paws brushing against her sides. The contact sent an unwelcome shiver through her that she desperately hoped he didn't notice.
The final part was the weapon, a modified blessed assault rifle that had seen better days but was clearly well-maintained. Marchosias handed it to her, and Loona accepted the rifle. She checked the safety, ejected the magazine to verify it was loaded, then slammed it back home with a satisfying click.
And that was everything from the crate. When she looked up, Marchosias was watching her with a face she couldn't quite read. Might be regret, worry, or something in between. They stood there for a long moment, neither speaking. Finally, Loona slung the rifle across her shoulder and moved toward the tent's entrance. Marchosias fell into step beside her, following her to the truck.
Loona spotted their truck immediately, with Desdemona and Cyrus making final adjustments to their gear while Millie stood nearby.
As they approached the group, Marchosias remained silent, somewhat withdrawn. Loona glanced at him curiously, expecting either him or her to say goodbye. But before either could do something about it, a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"March, I need a minute of your time!" Knight Forcas's voice came from a distance. The young owl demon stood near a communications array with other Goetian Knights, busy overviewing the route. Marchosias nodded toward Forcas, then turned back to the group.
"This is where we part ways. Forcas will coordinate from now on, and you'll have a direct channel with both him and the sniper team throughout the mission." He paused, his gaze lingering on Loona for a moment longer than strictly necessary. "You all know your roles and the plan. More importantly, you know each other. Trust your instincts and trust each other. "Good luck, all of you. May the Moon watch over you until we meet again."
Without another word, Marchosias turned around to walk towards Forcas. Loona watched him go, eyes tracking his form. His was formal, appropriate for end-off, but Loona caught the subtle emphasis on 'until'; it helped ease the tight knot of anxiety in her chest.
"How'd it go, sweetie?"
The gentle question drew Loona back to the present. Millie had approached while she'd been distracted, curious but understanding if Loona didn't want to say.
Loona considered the question at first, running through everything that had happened in the tent. How did you sum up a conversation that had fundamentally shifted your understanding of yourself and your place in the world? Hence, she only responded in the way she could have.
"Thank you, Millie. For everything."
Millie only smiled. Without warning, she drew back her fist and delivered a solid punch to Loona's armored shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to convey meaning. It was Millie's way of saying, 'You got it, girl!' , very happy she listened to her in the end and came to a better place for her life. All that's left is to kick someone’s ass...like in the good old days.
"Alright, let's get this show on the road!" Millie announced, patting Loona's arm and moving toward the truck's tailgate, while Cyrus was already climbing into the truck bed, determined to get it done. Loona approached the truck's passenger side, where Desdemona was adjusting mirrors for herself.
"You ready for this, wolf girl?" Desdemona asked, offering a high-five as a sign of luck.
"Ready as I'll ever be," She smirked, slapping Desdemona's offered hand in a firm high-five. "Let's go show these I.R.A. bastards what happens when they fuck with our family."
Desdemona settled herself inside and turned the ignition key, and for a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, nothing happened except the grinding whir of the starter motor. Then the engine caught with a rumble that seemed to vibrate. Desdemona let out a long sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly relaxing as the truck's systems came online without incident.
"Well, it should be fine for now."
Loona climbed into the passenger seat, settling her rifle between her knees. Through the rear window, she could see Millie and Cyrus making themselves as comfortable as possible in the truck bed, their weapons at the ready.
"All good back there?" Desdemona called out, glancing in the rearview mirror.
"Ready when you are!" Millie's voice came back, slightly muffled by the canvas covering.
Desdemona engaged the clutch and shifted into first gear, the truck lurching forward. The vehicle felt heavier than usual, but it responded smoothly to her guidance as she maneuvered through the roads of Fort. Legion soldiers stepped aside as they passed, some offering casual salutes while others simply watched them before they arrived at the exit. The gate guards waved them to pass freely as the gates opened for them. The Truck of the I.R.A. left the perimeter and went onto the rough road that would take them toward their target.
The fortress fell away behind them, becoming smaller and less distinct with each passing minute. Soon it was nothing more than a collection of structures on the horizon, then a smudge of activity, then finally just another part of the landscape they'd left behind.
Loona continued to watch through the rear window long after the fort had disappeared from view, her eyes tracking the empty road behind them. Finally, she turned back around and settled into her seat, shaking her head. This was exactly the kind of emotional burden that her dad warned about. She must have head clean and straight for this
But this was it, the moment when all the planning and preparation would come through. This time, the moment of surprise is on their side. Very soon, the I.R.A. would learn what happened when they made the mistake of taking someone's dear to her.
"We're coming, Tavi."
Notes:
Fun Fact: Loona's Surname is just a direct reference to her voice actor, Erica Lindbeck. I thought it fit and was kind of funny that Loona's initials would be double Ls for her.
And of course, just like with the "Millie May" and "Blitzo Buckzo" situation, unless the shows confirm Loona's real surname, I obviously change that.
----------------------------------------
Language Translations in Chronological Order:1) "You're Light to My Moon, blessed by Vicar She-Rah to forever guide this hound as he roams the land, not knowing when to stop, when to settle down" - (Hellhound Native Language [Actually Turkish])