"Speaking from the ass, what the hell is he doing here?"
"You know, Derieri, one would think that you'd have learned to use your senses by now. Does their magic seem like something the goddesses would associate themselves with?" Zeldris vaulted over the boulder in his path nonchalantly, not bothering to cast a glance over his shoulder at the pair following.
Derieri narrowed her eyes at the newcomers, hostility rolling of her form so thickly it was almost tangible. Her gaze stayed fixed on them as Zeldris approached until he stood nose to nose with her, and their glares met.
"The outcome of this most recent battle doesn't exactly put you in the most favorable light," he snarled.
Derieri's eyes twitched imperceptibly. She didn't dignify a reply other than deepening her snarl. God, she would just love to rip his intestines out for needling her about a battle he barely knew anything about. The one who meant everything to her was killed right in front of her for no damn good reason, and he had the gall to be an ass about it. He would deserve it if she unleashed upon him.
Zeldris responded as if he could hear the threats she hissed to herself. "Cool your head before I take it off, got it?"
A guttural scoff sounded in the back of her throat, and she rolled her eyes as she turned away from him. He huffed softly, satisfied with her response, and continued walking.
The newcomers had held back when Zeldris stepped up to challenge her. Now the massive blue giant and ginger fairy came forward again to follow him. Derieri watched the subdued pair as they passed, her face twisted into an expression of pure hatred at the sight of them.
"Is that—"
"Yeah." Derieri interrupted Grayroad sharply, and the lesser demon abruptly fell silent. Anyone could see just how furious their Commandment of Purity was. Monspeet was the only one of their number who dared to speak despite her rage, and he finished the broken-off sentence.
"Two commanders of Stigma, the fairy and giant kings."
Even though the pair was now wreathed in the magic of the Demon Clan, there was no doubt about who they were. Leaders of Stigma – the group that killed her sister.
Derieri did not see either Dolor or Gloxinia for several days after that. Still, she knew they were somewhere within the Demon Realm with her Clan's blood flowing through their veins, and her anger deepened with each setting of the sun. It was ready to burst by the time she saw them again, and the context of their encounter certainly did not alleviate her vicious sentiments.
Despite all that the fairy and giant kings had done to schmooze the goddesses and slaughter demons, they were in attendance at the mission briefing for the Ten Commandments.
The demons – the real demons – raised skeptical eyebrows at Zeldris in question. As proxy for the Demon King, he became their de facto leader when Meliodas stabbed them in the back. Which meant he was also responsible for bringing Dolor and Gloxinia here – which meant he was also the target of Derieri's razor tongue.
"It's one or the other, Zeldris."
"Fantastic," he shot back dryly. "And what does that mean, exactly? You stopped talking since your battle with the Archangels, and it's pretty incomprehensible to the rest of us."
Monspeet translated as she seethed. "Those two," he began with a pointed look at the pair in question, "were co-leaders of a group which has done everything in its power to eradicate our people, including participating in some extremely underhanded methods. It is offensive that we would be expected to placidly tolerate their presence here. If they will or have already been inducted into the Ten Commandments, either they must leave or Derieri will."
Derieri grunted her affirmation. The shadows coating her body writhed in echo of her frustration, like tongues of black flame licking furiously across her skin. Her hot fury seemed only to glance off of Zeldris like wisps of air, however.
He drew his sword from the sheathe at his hip and held it nonchalantly. Even though its blade was not angled toward Derieri herself, the threat in his actions was clear.
"Didn't I tell you to knock it off?" His tone was sharp and cold, an audible shard of ice. "The Demon King will not free you from His Commandment. He will also not revoke having bestowed it upon Dolor and Gloxinia. So, unless you intend to defy Our Lord, I would advise that you shut your mouth."
Defiance against the Demon King was nothing short of a death wish. He was more than their King – He was like a god, and His merciless wrath would annihilate any who dared to be impudent in His presence.
The sudden pressure of Monspeet's hand on her shoulder was all that held Derieri back from erupting.
Zeldris' icy gaze stayed on her as he sheathed his sword again. When he decided the possibility of an outburst had faded, he redirected his attention to address the Ten Commandments.
"Now that we've gotten that out of our system, I'll explain our mission to you. After the disaster of our last battle, Stigma has gotten cocky. They think that their success in the Fairy King's Forest is a sign that the Demon Clan is growing weak." The derision in his voice matched the hackles rising on the other demons. "Which means that they have grown lazy. Thanks to Gloxinia and Dolor, we know more about their movements than we ever have before. Stigma no longer has hostages to hold over us. Our King has ordered us to strike, and I intend for this offensive to be debilitating. We will pay them back tenfold for every life they took from the Demon Clan that day."
"Excellent." Galand cackled. "So when do we start?"
"You and Estarossa are our front line. Take Dolor with you. He has an ability that ought to come in handy. Monspeet and Melascula – both of you will leave this afternoon to run reconnaissance. Fraudrin and Grayroad are on reserve to aid wherever necessary, and I have my own tasks."
"Which leaves our second offensive line…?" Monspeet mused. Zeldris' mouth twisted into a bitter smirk, and he fixed his eyes on Derieri once again.
"Derieri, you fight with Gloxinia. Don't disappoint Our King."
The afternoon found Derieri trying out her new arm as Monspeet watched.
"Zeldris is testing you, you know," he mused.
"Talking from the ass, it's unnecessary." She punctuated her words with a grunt as she slammed her black claws into a stone mannequin's head. It crumbled beneath her fingers, and she eyed it with disdain, as if disgusted by how easily it fell to her.
"I doubt that he has low expectations for your performance. Enough hatred for the Goddess Clan lives within you to level an army – or to sacrifice all that you are to take on your Indura form. He is testing to see whether you obey the King out of loyalty, or merely because of a shared vendetta."
She shattered another dummy, and Monspeet sighed. As little as she appeared to be listening, he knew she heard each word he said.
"I empathize with your frustration. However, you must not harm this new Repose, or the retaliation against you will be fierce. Your death would be a great tragedy and loss for the strength of the Demon Clan."
Derieri's fist suddenly whirled to strike behind her, splintering the face of the granite rock she punched. She'd grown tired of the dummies, evidently. Monspeet sighed again and stood up.
"It is time for Melascula and I to depart. I shall see you sooner rather than later, I assume."
When he'd gone, Derieri finally stopped her punching and allowed herself to rest. He was right to think Zeldris was testing her, but there was another layer to this that Monspeet was missing.
Gloxinia's loyalty to the Demon Clan would also be tested. And if he failed or betrayed them, Zeldris' pairings gave Derieri the exclusive privilege of killing him for it.
Her opportunity to murder the Fairy King never came. The pair of them struck the battlefield with brutal efficiency. Derieri cleaved through the giant and goddess warriors like butter, leaping from opponent to opponent faster and faster as Combo Star built. Gloxinia's weapon flanked her assault, slicing apart enemies with unexpected brutality, the fairy himself close behind it. He was a sight to see – fury incarnate in a whirl of hair and wings and blood. The Stigma forces never stood a chance against them.
Derieri landed in a crouch beside the giant she'd felled. Just over the mound of his hand she could see a tattered cluster of humans darting around to drag wounded goddesses into a tent. Easy prey.
Her muscles tensed in preparation for launching herself forward, but she paused at the sound of a shout from above her head.
"STOP!"
She whipped her gaze up toward Gloxinia and snarled, harsh satisfaction building within her. She was right – this fairy was the same trash as his subjects and allies in Stigma, ready to trick and betray the Demon Clan at a moment's notice. But as she prepared to leap toward him to deal out his punishment, he cast her a poisonous smirk that brought her up short.
"Spirit Spear Basquias, First Form: [Basquias]!"
The spear contorted and reformed itself in its primary state, crackling with energy. A twirl of Gloxinia's wrist angled its tip at the wretched medical tent.
His face never changed from its complacent smirk as a powerful beam lanced from the spear and annihilated everything in its path.
She'd thought he joined the Demon Clan reluctantly. She'd thought he still loved Stigma, that he would have a difficult time cutting them down like the Demon Clan did. She'd thought wrong.
The day after, she found Gloxinia sitting in silence at the edge of the Demon Realm.
She was on top of him before he really registered her presence, and within an instant had him pinned on his back against the ground with her foot. Derieri leaned over her bent knee to scowl down at him. When she spoke, her voice bordered on an animalistic growl.
"Tell me, now. Why the fuck did you join the Demon Clan?"
"From the ass, or the whole story?"
She pressed her foot into his chest harder with a glare. Gloxinia shifted uncomfortably beneath the pressure and fluttered one hand against the ground in surrender.
"Okay, okay. Let me up?"
Derieri hesitated for a moment, since she was rather enjoying the pained strain in his expression. Then she shifted her weight away from the fairy despite herself and lifted the foot from his chest. He sat up and brushed himself off, checking meticulously for grass and dirt in his hair and clothes. It did not take long for Derieri to realize he was buying time.
"Well?"
Gloxinia froze, well aware that she'd caught him stalling. He remained silent for another moment, then released his breath as a sigh.
"You wish to know why I abandoned my people to join the Demon Clan? Why I held nothing back when we were attacking those who I once had an alliance with?" She grunted in agreement. "During the battle when all the Demon Clan's hostages were killed… you lost someone important to you, didn't you?"
Derieri's only response was silence, but it was heavy. Even if he didn't have the same interpretive skills as Monspeet, Gloxinia had seen enough of Derieri so far to understand he struck a nerve. He continued softly, his eyes fixed on a particular blade of grass between his folded legs.
"The demons that day… they were not the only civilian casualties. While the Ten Commandments battled the Archangels, Dolor and I rushed to stop Melascula from opening the portal to the Demon Realm. But in the midst of the chaos caused by the battle, a group of humans started to attack the weakest fairies and giants who were hiding in the forest. Humans who helped us before, who seemed so friendly and willing to join our battle against the Demon Clan. I was a fool to think…" He clenched his fist tightly and trembled with anger and regret. "Eventually I came across one of them, their leader, the one I had talked to and thought I could trust, and in his arms he held— he held my sister, broken and bloody and torn to pieces. My precious sister, dead because I was stupid enough to trust that scum."
He dropped off into silence. Derieri made no sound to break the quiet, and he let it fill him, saturating his body with waves of grief and loathing. He wallowed in it, relished it, let it sustain him. That person took away something more precious to Gloxinia than his own life.
Now he only lived for the sake of avenging her, fueled by the vitriol born of his love.
Hot tears spilled down his face despite how he tried to suppress them. The bitter taste of fury and gall rose in the back of his throat every time he saw that image again, every time he closed his eyes.
Gerharde… He could never forgive that bastard Law for what he'd done to her. He could never forgive himself for what he allowed to happen.
"Fucking humans."
Gloxinia looked back at her, startled. She was sitting now, with her eyes distant – he was so wrapped up in telling his story that he hadn't even noticed her movement. The obstinate anger that constantly hovered around her had mellowed into bitterness. Mourning, he realized an instant later. This is how it looked when Derieri was sad.
She noticed his attention and glanced to meet his eyes. She looked away just before he did.
"Talking from the ass, we're about the same."
"About the same…" he echoed, momentarily puzzled by her way of speaking. He watched her, expecting some sort of answer. Instead he saw the moment she shifted from grief to hatred – her eyes hardened, the downward curve of her mouth sharpened, her jaw set. As she rose to her feet, determination evident in every bit of her, Gloxinia understood what she'd meant.
They were different in every possible way, but they shared the same agenda. The world had a debt to pay them both, and damn it all if they weren't going to take the vengeance they were owed.
He stood up to join her, and he nodded when she spoke.
"Let's go eviscerate those bastards."