Hordes of demons swarmed to get as close to the demonic throne they could
only ever dream of experiencing what it felt like. They stood around the
sacred chair in their thousands, awaiting for their new heir to the throne
to claim his title as the ruler of all in the demonic realm. A realm where
only the strongest were noticed. A realm where only the superior survived.
A realm where if any mortal were to be taken to, their souls would be
cleaved from their bodies just by being in it's horrific atmosphere. The
demonic spawn, waiting eagerly for the first glimpses of their master,
hissed, screamed, yelled and wailed from throughout their darkness.
It had only been a few hours ago when they witnessed their previous King become defeated by a fresh, young blood in a bid to gain the throne. The new blood was of course the King's son, Mundus. Prince Mundus was evil incarnate. Fuelled by his greed and obsession with power, he was no longer able to wait for his time to serve his duty to the throne, and saw the only way of shortening this time as challenging his all-powerful father. Fortunately for Mundus, his father by this time was millenniums old, and his power had become expired. King Mundus had also decided to take pity upon his son, and not use his experience to his full advantage. For King Mundus knew, his form would soon loose it's shape and he would become just another wondering entity amongst the former royal demons of the past. And if he were to defeat his son, there would no longer be an heir to throne and it would have to be passed on to a lesser demon. This was one of the things King Mundus feared the most. For all his hard work in maintaining the reputation of the demonic realm would deteriorate, and his existence would be mocked by all the future millions of generations to come. So his only other alternative was to put up a good fight, make it seem his son was out-powering him, and then surrender. As the battle between them commenced, King Mundus realised he had made a grave mistake by miss-judging his son's power. Prince Mundus had gained the ability to anticipate each and every of his father's moves, and soon, although the King had planned it, he was forced to give up his place on the throne much sooner than he expected. After the battle, Prince Mundus approached his father and revealed he knew of his plan all along, and so was able to plan against his father's moves in advance. King Mundus then apologized to his son, for doubting his powers, and realised he had made the right decision. And so, King Mundus surrendered his seat as the ruler to his even-more powerful son.
The demons that surrounded the chamber with the throne grew restless and impatient as they awaited the approach of their new ruler. Soon enough though, the best warriors throughout the realm entered from the royal chamber, and surrounded the throne. There were 12 in all, each a veteran in hand-to-hand combat; they were the demons that lead their troops into battle, if there was ever such a possibility of war. Amongst these 12 powerful incarnations were Exotal, Neovanis, Gronashaw, Heptise, Litaful, Serpantis, Oochok, Behemoth, Tyrannil, Ganda, Jiffiti and the highest- ranking warrior, Sparda. There had only ever been one single war recorded throughout the demonic realm some thousands of years ago, when there was a rip between the dimensions, allowing the demonic armies to spill fourth from the void, into the mortal dimension. It appeared the terrible immortal warriors were on the verge of overthrowing a whole continent, when the humans became so desperate, they had to summon their highest mage priests, experts in the magical field, to combine there powers and seal up the rip in space for eternity. This stopped the evil beasts swarming through the void, and the mages were then able to wipe out the remaining opposition. The demonic realm hardly suffered at all. All warriors that had been lost were the lesser demons, and were easily re-created by the current King.
The waiting was now over for the monstrosities as the new ruler, Prince Mundus, entered through the darkness, greeted by the distinctive praise from his loyal servants. He was much bigger than any other demon in the chamber. Even the 12 warriors looked like nothing compared to him. His royal heritage was obvious; whereas most demonic beasts were of darker colours, Price Mundus was much more angelic, and was a very light grey/white colour. Just like his father, he had an indent in his chest, which was transparent, making his life force clearly visible to all. His wings were covered in feathers of the purest white. It was clear from this tyrant why demons are rumoured to be 'fallen angels'. Mundus walked to the front of the raised platform, each footstep shaking the very ground it's inhabitants stood on. He gazed upon all who had gathered to see him claim his title, and then nodding with acceptance, his raised his arms to welcome the praise as it grew louder in his favour. Mundus turned around, clearly pleased with himself, and faced the chair he had longed to claim. He could see it more clearly than ever now. It's back reached all the way to the top of the chamber, patterned with black, twisted thorns forming the shape of a dragon's head. The arms of the chair were polished to perfection, and shone the purest jet black of onyx. At the end of these arms, were the skulls of two of the most vicious beasts throughout the realm, still in the position of how they were cleaved from the bodies. They were open mouth, as if roaring with great ferocity. Mundus immediately knew his importance, and sat down on the thrown, feeling his blood surge with new, fresh power as he did so. He laughed with a very deep tone, and with great satisfaction. The incarnations surrounding him recognised this, and all erupted with cheers of victory, and new hope.
It had only been a few hours ago when they witnessed their previous King become defeated by a fresh, young blood in a bid to gain the throne. The new blood was of course the King's son, Mundus. Prince Mundus was evil incarnate. Fuelled by his greed and obsession with power, he was no longer able to wait for his time to serve his duty to the throne, and saw the only way of shortening this time as challenging his all-powerful father. Fortunately for Mundus, his father by this time was millenniums old, and his power had become expired. King Mundus had also decided to take pity upon his son, and not use his experience to his full advantage. For King Mundus knew, his form would soon loose it's shape and he would become just another wondering entity amongst the former royal demons of the past. And if he were to defeat his son, there would no longer be an heir to throne and it would have to be passed on to a lesser demon. This was one of the things King Mundus feared the most. For all his hard work in maintaining the reputation of the demonic realm would deteriorate, and his existence would be mocked by all the future millions of generations to come. So his only other alternative was to put up a good fight, make it seem his son was out-powering him, and then surrender. As the battle between them commenced, King Mundus realised he had made a grave mistake by miss-judging his son's power. Prince Mundus had gained the ability to anticipate each and every of his father's moves, and soon, although the King had planned it, he was forced to give up his place on the throne much sooner than he expected. After the battle, Prince Mundus approached his father and revealed he knew of his plan all along, and so was able to plan against his father's moves in advance. King Mundus then apologized to his son, for doubting his powers, and realised he had made the right decision. And so, King Mundus surrendered his seat as the ruler to his even-more powerful son.
The demons that surrounded the chamber with the throne grew restless and impatient as they awaited the approach of their new ruler. Soon enough though, the best warriors throughout the realm entered from the royal chamber, and surrounded the throne. There were 12 in all, each a veteran in hand-to-hand combat; they were the demons that lead their troops into battle, if there was ever such a possibility of war. Amongst these 12 powerful incarnations were Exotal, Neovanis, Gronashaw, Heptise, Litaful, Serpantis, Oochok, Behemoth, Tyrannil, Ganda, Jiffiti and the highest- ranking warrior, Sparda. There had only ever been one single war recorded throughout the demonic realm some thousands of years ago, when there was a rip between the dimensions, allowing the demonic armies to spill fourth from the void, into the mortal dimension. It appeared the terrible immortal warriors were on the verge of overthrowing a whole continent, when the humans became so desperate, they had to summon their highest mage priests, experts in the magical field, to combine there powers and seal up the rip in space for eternity. This stopped the evil beasts swarming through the void, and the mages were then able to wipe out the remaining opposition. The demonic realm hardly suffered at all. All warriors that had been lost were the lesser demons, and were easily re-created by the current King.
The waiting was now over for the monstrosities as the new ruler, Prince Mundus, entered through the darkness, greeted by the distinctive praise from his loyal servants. He was much bigger than any other demon in the chamber. Even the 12 warriors looked like nothing compared to him. His royal heritage was obvious; whereas most demonic beasts were of darker colours, Price Mundus was much more angelic, and was a very light grey/white colour. Just like his father, he had an indent in his chest, which was transparent, making his life force clearly visible to all. His wings were covered in feathers of the purest white. It was clear from this tyrant why demons are rumoured to be 'fallen angels'. Mundus walked to the front of the raised platform, each footstep shaking the very ground it's inhabitants stood on. He gazed upon all who had gathered to see him claim his title, and then nodding with acceptance, his raised his arms to welcome the praise as it grew louder in his favour. Mundus turned around, clearly pleased with himself, and faced the chair he had longed to claim. He could see it more clearly than ever now. It's back reached all the way to the top of the chamber, patterned with black, twisted thorns forming the shape of a dragon's head. The arms of the chair were polished to perfection, and shone the purest jet black of onyx. At the end of these arms, were the skulls of two of the most vicious beasts throughout the realm, still in the position of how they were cleaved from the bodies. They were open mouth, as if roaring with great ferocity. Mundus immediately knew his importance, and sat down on the thrown, feeling his blood surge with new, fresh power as he did so. He laughed with a very deep tone, and with great satisfaction. The incarnations surrounding him recognised this, and all erupted with cheers of victory, and new hope.