SURPRISE it's alive. A big thank you to everyone who read, followed, and reviewed this fic despite the inactivity. As an apology and a thank you, here's a couple of sketches (remove spaces, replace "dot" with "."): imgur dot com /a/ DVk1YHu
Part 3: Null
The whole room fell into panic as the possessed man, without ceasing his laughter, sprouted a leathery tail and a pair of ram horns. His muscles tripled their size and tore through his upper clothing. The prayers grew louder, but it did nothing to halt the transformation of his nails into the black talons that ripped through the flesh of two men to his immediate right. Astaroth's blood-red eyes scoured the room as he showed off his sharp teeth in a horrifying smile.
Bullets broke his manic grin, and Samael and Akemi turned to Shirō who had fired the shots. Anger spread on Astaroth's face as he sought the source, immediately finding the boy who fought hard to keep a stony expression.
"Those with weapons! Defend everyone!" a priest commanded, and the rest obliged.
Surprise briefly crossed the King of Rot's face when he realized Samael's presence.
"Why, if it isn't older brother!"
"Older brother?"
He was falling.
The loud thud of heavy wood hitting hard marble echoed across the room, followed by confused gasps, murmurs, and shouting.
"Older brother?!"
The words sounded muffled and distorted—so close in an instant, far away in another, then gone in the next. Somehow, he knew it referred to him, but his foggy mind and throbbing head provided him with nothing but incoherence. Something was happening around him and he felt like he needed to care, but in that moment pain was the only thing that existed for him—who was "he" anyway, and did "he" even exist beyond this pain?
Gleaming threads as thin as a spider's tangled and untangled—gaining form, losing form….
He tried reaching for them, but his body refused to move.
"You are Samael," a voice—his voice it seemed—told him. He grabbed the name and clung to it like his life depended on it—no, he knew his whole being depended on it.
You are Samael, he repeated in his head. Samael is my name. I am Samael.
Poison.
Potion.
Samael. Samael. Samael. Samael.
Divine destruction.
A short reprieve. The sounds rushed in and the words "adjourned," "take him away," and "his chamber" came through, before the pain returned in full force and darkness claimed the threads and his consciousness.
Gunshots rang from all directions, but Astaroth ignored the bullets that hit him.
"Don't tell me you're hoarding them for yourself, brother!" Astaroth said playfully, ridicule apparent. "You wouldn't mind sharing with little brother, right?"
Samael did not answer.
The colloquial way his little brother spoke grated against his ears each time he had the misfortune of being near him—Samael was a gentle-demon, after all. Astaroth had done every sin imaginable, but if the elder had to name his greatest offense it would be the stench that mercilessly assaulted all noses within a hundred meter radius.
If the older demon king avoided meaningless brawls in general, then the younger took every opportunity to let his fists loose. Unlike the younger demon kings, raw strength and stamina was not Samael's strong point, so he must rely on wits to win (or get away) from battles like this. It was for this same reason that the rest of the Baal, Lucifer the odd exception, called him the weakest and while he scoffed at the idea of brawn as the standard of power his younger brothers would rather prove him wrong with fists than listen to reason.
Now, what should I do about this?
Always the player, never a piece: this was how the King of Space lived.
"…dulge your ins…lence, kee…on wresting fr…the gods…eir honors to give t…em to creatures…f a day.
Sure, Samael sometimes gave his human toys the means, but he also took great care not to involve his own person in their squabbles, observing only from a frontrow seat how the actors used his props. Alright, there was that time with Faust but—
"…nd…when some…n dares…show…eage…ness to help? Wha…harm d…you see there, P…?"
"Lost labor and thoughtless simplicity."
A new wave of screams echoed. Coal tar, ghouls, naberii, and demonic fungi had breached the barrier.
"…you are far better able to admonish others than yourself."
Spreading his arms, Samael finally returned the challenge, "Alas, little brother. How will you take 'no' for an answer?" Shirō and Akemi shot him confused looks, not understanding his words.
Demons were territorial and possessive by nature—and Samael was a demon king.
"Hmm…" Astaroth hummed in mock thought. "Like THIS!"
The King of Rot charged, cracking the concrete floor beneath him from the force of his propulsion. Roaring, he pulled back both of his heavily muscled arms to punch Samael. The floor cratered upon meeting Astaroth's fists, sending shockwaves and dust that extinguished the surrounding candles' small flames. For a while, only the flickering orange at the center of the room could be seen.
"What the hell…" was all Shirō could mutter as he stared at the pulverized floor that could have been them had his instincts not kicked in to throw Akemi and himself out of the way at the last second.
"Trust the King of Space to disappear just like that," Astaroth sneered. "Father got so pissed off when you did that to him a century ago, he destroyed half of the palace! HAHAHAHA!"
The dust started to settle, but demonic spores quickly took their place as veil. The increasing miasma drew more gasps and coughs from the humans in the room.
Astaroth smiled leisurely. "Where are you, brother?"
"Where are you, brother?" the blond in front of him asked, staring beyond his eyes as if searching his very soul for something. For a split second, the one questioned wondered who the man before him was.
Samael blinked, confused at the question. "I am here, older brother."
Of course, he knew Lucifer; it would be strange for him not to know the older brother whose presence had been a constant in his hundred years of existence.
"You are here," the elder demon confirmed. "Yet you are not here."
"My apologies. My mind must have…wandered…" Samael trailed off as his thoughts started to turn into a clouded mess.
"Is something wrong, Samael?"
A tiny part of the younger demon insisted that something was wrong, not exactly with Lucifer, but with everything around them. With him. This tiny part fought a losing war with a much larger part telling him that everything was as it should be.
The clouds parted; the battle was lost not long after it began, and so was the memory of it ever happening in the first place.
"There is nothing wrong, brother," was Samael's earnest reply. This was what he himself believed; there was no reason to lie.
Though he found it odd, Lucifer did not comment on the abrupt—too abrupt, it was unnatural even for Samael—shift in his brother's demeanor. "After you collapsed, during our conference with Father, are you certain you have had sufficient time to recuperate?"
"Yes. Forgive me for worrying you."
Lucifer's eyes held questions, but the rest of his face remained expressionless.
"Everything is as it should be."
The King of Space's lips stretched into a feral grin as he pulled a rapier—an ornate Pappenheimer he lovingly called Bienenstich—out of thin air. Sword twirling in hand, stance as relaxed as ever, Samael called out to Astaroth, "Oh my. What poor eyesight."
Finding his foe, Astaroth lunged at Samael once more. Samael leapt from his place to dodge the oncoming attack then used Astaroth's head as a springboard to launch himself higher. Turning back to the King of Rot, he called forth dozens of Pappenheimers all aimed at the other demon king. A strange sensation gripped Samael as his powers coursed through his body, but he ignored it in favor of the rush of battle. Astaroth faced his brother just in time to meet a barrage of swords.
"Blitztorte!"
Barely coming out of the deadly downpour unharmed, Astaroth hurled himself at Samael—who was still mid-air—bulldozing his opponent and boring a hole through the ceiling in the process. Samael found himself airborne, thrashing against his attacker's unyielding hold, until Astaroth sent him crashing into the ground with earth-shaking force.
Samael forced himself to stand despite his host body's protests, fixing his eyes on Astaroth as he commanded his cells to accelerate their regeneration. This time, however, he could no longer ignore the strange sensation, which he recognized as the same one that came over him while preparing Blitztorte, mixed in with the feeling of his increasing power.
Astaroth geared up for another attack, and as much as Samael wanted to figure out first what that sensation was, he had to brace himself for a counterstrike.
The King of Rot was strong but predictable. Correctly anticipating his opponent's next move, the King of Space disappeared from collision course and reappeared a good distance away. He took advantage of the attacker's confusion to activate the cage he had set up moments prior.
"Linzertorte."
Doughy tendrils shot up from where Samael had been and caged a surprised Astaroth whose fist met nothing but rubble. Above the enclosure, a colourful cauldron appeared and poured its boiling contents on the unsuspecting demon who could only scream in agony as his flesh melted away.
The odd sensation returned, much stronger than before. Fatigue assaulted Samael's body. He knew his limit, and this should not be it. Something was wrong.
"Looks like you're forgetting something, brother." A figure stepped out from behind the rubble. Samael whipped his head towards the apparent direction of the speaker and braced himself for the possibility of an attack. The swarm of demonic insects that cloaked the newcomer's body told Samael who he was despite the unfamiliar host.
"Beelzebub."
The King of Insects eyed the captive Astaroth, and wordlessly instructed his minions to gnaw at the cage that held him. "That's right. Keep taxing your body like that. Hurry up and die."
Samael furrowed his brows not understanding his brother's words. Did they want him to destroy his body and return to Gehenna? Astaroth's grin returned despite his necrotic state as soon as he was freed from Samael's cage. "Unlike your shitty cake linzer-whatever, that prison is inescapable," Astaroth rasped.
"'Prison'?" Samael asked, not lowering his weapon. Astaroth merely laughed at his question.
"Oh, did you really forget?" Beelzebub said before turning to Astaroth, chuckling, "Did you hit his head too much?"
"That body is special. Destroying it will also destroy the demon possessing it. Human technology is quite interesting, you know? We forced you to possess that using a device Lucifer's cult invented."
Realization dawned on Samael. At that moment, he understood what the strange sensation meant.
"No way you're escaping to Gehenna now, brother. Gotta thank Brother Lucifer's Illuminati freaks for that."
He forced a smirk to keep the panic bubbling within him at bay. I will not die in this manner.
Seeing that Astaroth was almost completely healed, Samael quickly cast Blitztorte aiming to take out both of his brothers. The sudden attack caught Astaroth off-guard, and numerous rapiers nailed him to a nearby wall like a bloody portrait. Beelzebub jumped out of the way fast enough to avoid the same fate as Astaroth, but not fast enough to come off unscathed. Samael aimed another round of rapiers at the King of Insects intending to finish the job, but before he could send them his way he froze at a strange sight.
Gleaming threads as thin as a spider's tangled and untangled—gaining form, losing form….
The distraction was momentary but fatal.
Beelzebub's claws dug at his shoulders and nailed them to the ground. The elder struggled, but his efforts only made the pain worse and the younger's pressure on his torn limbs even heavier. Samael's involuntary scream rivaled the loudness of his opponent's manic laughter.
"The game is over, older brother," Beelzebub declared with a toothy sneer. "I'll be a good little brother and let you choose how we end it. We're family, right? So, do you want to get eaten alive by little brother's infernal insects? Or do you want to be burned alive by dear Father's flames? I'm sure he misses you so much."
"Hey. Don't just leave me out of the picture," Astaroth called out despite his sorry state.
"Shut up, Astaroth."
All sorts of creeping insects fell from Beelzebub's mouth when he spoke. Landing on Samael's bloody face and tangled hair, hundreds of tiny feet taunted him with every little stomp across his skin.
Still, Samael scoffed.
Fresh blood oozed from every orifice on the face of Samael's host, and raw flesh revealed themselves underneath dissolving skin.
"Aaaww. Brother, don't tell me you can't even last long enough to decide. When your host is destroyed, your essence goes with it, remember?"
"Indeed. This must be the end of the game." His voice was low and pained, and Beelzebub was delighted by his older brother's closing act.
How about another game, then?
"Das Stärkste Gefängnis."
Beelzebub's claws were violently extracted from Samael's shoulders. Two kinds of screams followed: one of pain, uncontrolled and instinctual; another of rage, cursing the other's existence. Loud metallic banging and clanking cut the latter short, and silence took over.
"What—what the hell did you do to him?!" Astaroth growled at the lone figure barely standing.
"Sent him to a prison for idiotic little brothers."
Samael caught sight of widened red eyes staring back at him from the rubbles of what had been humanity's last stronghold. Ah, this kid is still alive.
"You're hardly keeping it together. If I shoot you, you're dead meat." Shirō spoke in a firm voice despite the trembling hands wrapped around his gun. "Are you friend or foe?"
A laugh. "Yeah right, kid; he's no friend! Shoot 'im dead!" Astaroth jeered. He received a bullet to the chest in reply. "YOU GODDAMNED F—"
A rapier through the mouth finally silenced the King of Rot.
The teen aimed straight at the remaining demon king's head. "Whose side are you on?"
Another laughter came, this time from Samael.
"Demons do not make friends, Fujimoto-san."
A bullet flew past the demon, but no other shot followed. The gun dropped to the ground followed by a gasping Shirō on all fours.
"Ah. All the heroics, and you fall by miasma," Samael said as he turned away from the human. Somewhere close, Satan's presence made itself known.
Exhaustion and another round of pain brought him to his knees. Normally, high ranking demons like him were forced back to Gehenna upon the destruction of their Assiah hosts. This, however, was not the norm. His very core was being ripped apart—like a dying star, he was collapsing within himself, and there was no returning to Gehenna or Assiah unless something was done to halt his host's deterioration.
Still, he drew power from his demonic heart.
"I choose how to end it, yes?"
He recalled the feeling he had upon landing in this era. The last moments in his father's throne room. The falling sensation during their conference.
Gleaming threads as thin as a spider's tangled and untangled—gaining form, losing form….
This game ends here.
"Drei."
But we have other games to play.
"Zwei."
Let the game begin…
"Eins."
…once more.
"Null."
Somewhere beyond Gehenna and Assiah, the woman spun gleaming threads in silence. Pausing her work, she lifted her eyes from the spindle in her hand to gaze at the unconscious figure lying before her.
Notes:
I was waiting for the manga to finish Section 13 investigations so I can incorporate more canon material, but months turned to years, and here we are with even more history digging lol. This fic starts with original content, but I want to connect it to manga canon at some point (tho I can't promise regular updates).
I named Mephisto's non-canon attacks after cakes www
Bienenstich. literally, bee sting; a type of cake topped with caramelized almonds
Blitztorte. literally, lightning cake
Linzertorte. A type of pastry with a lattice design.
Das Stärkste Gefängnis (The Strongest Prison). canon; the same type of demon Mephisto used to contain Rin during the Kyoto arc
The woman.Very minor mythological character that's only here to give Mephy a few hints, don't worry.