—Beast Against Devil—
On a bright sunny day, inside an ancient gothic castle was a wide, high-ceilinged hall, painted with ranges of yellows and oranges, walled with blocks of marble stone, and floored with gleaming granite tiles. The august hall had two humble glass windows, providing life and light. It also boasted arching ceilings, fluttering like unstilled water from the reflecting rays of the sun against the granite floors.
In contrast to its astounding beauty, the enormous hall reeked with a strong essence of alcohol combined with a sweet smell of fragrant wine.
The highlight of the hall was a tall double door in between the smaller ones on either side while matching banners with burnished tapestries of each warring beastmen tribe adorned the walls. Loud voices of roaring happiness and satisfaction filled the hall.
"My loyal vassals!"
A commanding voice was heard from an elevated stage, echoing throughout the entire hall. The words seized any movements, silencing the sounds of the partying and howling entities.
"Everyone must now prepare for the march and as we have planned, let us meet at the Fortress of Bestias tomorrow together with the gathered army once dawning sun struck the first light."
In response to the dominating command, the entities eagerly stood from their seats and in their position, they loosely genuflected with splendor and ease.
"As you command, our Shaikh!"
With that reply, the tall double doors opened with a loud boom. Various entities left the hall, leaving an elongated dining table with ornate carving on its edges at the center of the room surrounded by numerous disorganized wooden cushioned chairs. A number of empty bottles of wine and glasses were everywhere as if a wild festival had taken place.
The hall was the meeting room of the generals and vice-commanders of the beastmen army. Every warring tribe leader attended an early celebration for their upcoming victory against the Draconic Kingdom. The enemies were overwhelmed with both quality and quantity, giving not even a slight chance of turning the tides of battle.
After conquering the Draconic Kingdom, the beastmen army would proceed towards the rest of the surrounding countries and claimed the whole continent as their trophy. It was an invasion that would go down for hundreds of years in history, not only in the Beastman Kingdom but in the entire world.
But not everyone had agreed.
Two entities were left standing in the soundless hall, facing each other within arm's reach. They were spending their moments together. Soon, they would part and take their different ways. The invasion was on its end, something that both of them had dreamed of together during their sleepless nights. It was the only goal they wanted to reach and then everything would come back the same way as before when the queen, the ruler, the Shaikhah of the Beastman Kingdom was still filled with strength and power.
"My son, please take care of your mother, I'm going now and I'll see to it that she will be cured when I get back, I promise."
A bullman said with a weak smile, looking at his worried son. He was considered old with his hoarse voice though his face was still beaming with kindness and hope.
He was going to fight for a one-sided war against the Draconic Kingdom. His upper body was bare. However, it was simply normal, his steel-like hide was thicker and stronger than any known armor in his kingdom, blunting or breaking even a weapon made out of the highest quality metal from the country.
Having his defense naturally built in and out of his body, he could effortlessly take a hard hit even an enemy's lucky strike. In the upcoming war, his enemies would finally see his flawless hide under his brownish fur devoid of scars and wounds, evidence of the bullman race's high-speed regeneration. His legs were covered by a skirt of many layers of silver metal sheets, reaching down to his greaves. His lower legs were protected by bull greaves which had rows upon rows of small metal pieces, mimicking black reptile scales. The sole of his greaves was made of special metal, protecting both of his hooves from slips and dirt.
"Father, we will deploy all the generals and their war tribes. With only two cities remaining, why would you go to the battlefield now? Our victory is sealed and unquestioned."
A bullman stated his concern with a protesting voice, wondering why his father would take unnecessary risks. With their numbers, the Draconic Kingdom would fall immediately upon their arrival after the whole week of the army's march. However, the next words he would hear came as a surprise.
"That was the reason my son, with our army, we can conquer not only the Draconic Kingdom but all the other nations next to it and I won't let that happen, not in my reign anyway."
The bullman enlightened his son. He was Shaikh Gilthur Falgal, the king— the Shaikh of the Beastman Kingdom. As his son thought of what he said, he saw a distressed and troubled face.
"You can't possibly mean?" His son blurted in concern.
"Yes, that's what I meant. Our kingdom is only united for now because of the invasion and if they have no Shaikh to control them, then the whole continent will be in chaos. I know you have already understood everything, my son. We are not barbarians, we are just left with no choice at all. If the Draconic Kingdom surrenders, I will gladly take their kingdom without bloodshed. We must follow the dogma that holds our kingdom together as long as possible."
The bullman confirmed the worries of his son. He was a strong king, even the strongest in the Beastman Kingdom. However, the beastmen was not simply following the strong but also the moral code imparted in them through the long years of culture and tradition. Despite the continuous uprisings of uncontended and rebellious beastmen who mostly favored integrating their kingdom back to its mother empire to be ruled by what the bullman reckoned as the betrayers, the kingdom stood united.
As long as the Shaikhah was alive, his death would mean nothing and the Beastman Kingdom would still hold its ground as a promise to be proven and fulfilled with time.
"T-Then let me go and take command of the army, father! I promise I will deliver the Draconic Kingdom to you."
His son tried to argue but Gilthur knew it was not to prove or to boast uncanny strength and leadership quality but out of unconditional love and care. His son was an imposing and proud bullman of the Beastman Kingdom but he was also soft, deeming the royal family as his only weakness. His son had gone so far out of his way to support him on his conquest and unethical dealings with the betrayers just to cure the Shaikhah even against his principles in life.
However, Gilthur had already made up his mind. His wife and his son were the future of the kingdom. If one from the royal family must go and fight the war to control a vast army of hundreds of thousands of hungry beastmen, it must be the Shaikh himself. He had a bad feeling and he could faintly smell the betrayers behind the sudden aggression of his generals, hounding him to conquer the countries beyond the Draconic Kingdom during the meeting a while ago. He needed the powers of the betrayers in exchange for the cure of his wife's illness. Regardless of taking thousands of innocent lives as a sacrifice, he must still hinder their vile schemes. He would offer his life, gladly dying if he had to.
"Amir Nalten Falgal! My decision cannot be revoked and it is for the best! Both for our kingdom and your mother's life!"
Gilthur declared with finality, leaving his son speechless.
Nalten knew his father was strong, way stronger than any enemy from the Draconic Kingdom, even against their legendary heroes. He was sure his father would claim the kingdom, wearing the treasured crown of the Beastman Kingdom which belonged to his mother. His father could not be harmed by any immobilizing spells or curses but he was not immortal and unkillable.
Knowing he could not do anything but to abide by his father's wishes during the war, he felt disheartened. His father had always been true to his words. Deprived of his chance to support as a son, he simply felt useless. Shaken by the fear of losing his father, Nalten could only drop his head in shame, averting his eyes from Gilthur's commanding gaze.
As Nalten fell into silence, Gilthur extended his hand and grabbed the shoulder of his son who perked up in response to the sudden nudge.
"You are not ready to lead my son. This is a duty for the Shaikh, I must see the end of this invasion myself."
Gilthur reaffirmed his unbreakable decision, sweeping his hand across the beefed cheek of his son.
"You need to be here if ever something unexpected might happen. Please take good care of your mother as I have taken care of her. I may have failed but you must not."
Gilthur entrusted the duties and his wishes, rubbing the cheek of his son against his thumb. Nalten weakly smiled and softly ram his forehead against his father as the bullman's traditional way of conveying gratitude and farewell.
"Alright, father, good luck and I hope you won't need it this time."
Having the good wishes of his son, Gilthur closed his eyes and lightly held the back of Nalten's head, feeling his son's comforting warm breath as it breezed through his aged face.
"Looks like I needed luck in spite of everything, my son."
As he muttered the words, after dwelling on the past and last moment together with his son, Gilthur gradually opened his eyes. Standing upon the vast expanse of the grassy plains, the city he wanted to be conquered was already before him, and in between, against his goal, was a fiendish and bloodthirsty foe.
Riding on top of his platinum armored warhorse, he approached the powerful toadman, breaking away from the ranks of his frozen army. Despite the mystical voice, he could freely move. The protection from the symbol of his promised kingdom was proven effective, reducing the magic imbued words of the toadman as mere pointless requests and commands.
x x x
Seeing the unbound beastman, leisurely proceeding to his direction, with no second thoughts, Demiruge activated his skill.
"Aspect of the Devil [Razor Sharp Claw]!"
As the skill activated, elongated claws stretched from both of Demiurge's hands.
"Wait! Let us negotiate." The beastman yelped, raising his right hand in an open palm towards Demiurge, indicating to halt the needless hostilities. "I'm Gilthur Falgal, Shaikh of the Be—"
Gilthur stumbled as the second he blinked, Demiurge's face was near on his nose.
"Mngorgh!"
Gilthur growled the moment he noticed a stung of sudden yet unbearable pain. He inclined his head and glanced at the source of his agony, seeing his stabbed shoulder gushing red with fresh flowing blood.
"Hmm. I'm worried for nothing after all."
Demiurge mused with a wide grin, splitting his face after he swiftly impaled his claws through the left shoulder of the beastman in front of him. The encounter caught him by surprise. Despite being on guard for high-level entities he might encounter, the action of the low-level beastman seemed sudden and unexpected for the archdevil.
After he pulled up the beastman from its horse, Demiurge hovered across the field. On the way to his distant position, he effortlessly dragged and yanked the beastman with his claws.
"Mngoorrgghh! W-Who the hell are you!"
The beastman screamed, struggling from the unbearable pain. He violently winded his right arm against the toadman, anywhere within his reach would do but his useless efforts were all for naught.
Demiurge did not budge. The level and strength difference was comparable to heaven and the beastman was the lowly earth.
Demiurge hummed. 'He must have some sort of resistance against mind control.'
He concluded in his thought. Reaching his desired position, he raised the mooing beastman with his claws and thoroughly scrutinized its body and physique.
"You are the bullman king the human general is talking about. A racial immunity…" Demiurge loudly guessed, wondering how the bullman resisted his commanding skill.
"Or—" Demiurge continued as he noticed a magic item of some sort, perfectly fitted in between the horns of the bullman king. It was a gleaming golden crown, pulsating with a crystal-like radiance of yellowish hue. He drummed his claws against the golden crown, hearing the usual sound of clanking metal against metal. "—no matter. Maybe I could use you later for my experiments."
Hovering a foot above the ground, Demiurge tossed the bullman king like a piece of baggage. It fell and staggered, failing to gain balance.
The wounded bullman was on the ground lying and gasping, desperately catching his breath. Slowly, within a minute, his punctured shoulder started to heal, going back to its original form of supposed to be flawless and steel-like hide which Demiurge had effortlessly poked like a mold of butter.
Demiruge broke his face into a predatory smile. His reddish round eyes sparkled in delight as he saw another potential subject for his gruesome and pleasurable experiments.
"Fast regeneration! Now I'm more interested in you."
Demiruge exclaimed, licking his lips in anticipation and excitement.
In response, fully healed from the harsh agonizing sting, Gilthur bravely stood and frantically snatched his longsword from his back, clasping its hilt with both his hands. He raised his sword, pointing its end at the hovering toadman.
Gilthur trembled in absolute anger. Despite losing his calm, he gritted his teeth and prepared himself. Through his attack stance, he madly hurled with a roaring battle cry headed for the mocking toadman who indolently hurt and carried him like a helpless child.
"Mngoarggh!"
But in response to the unyielding bullman, Demiurge simply shuddered involuntarily. Pleased and gratified with the bullman's plain, hopeless struggle, he gladly activated another skill.
"Aspect of the Devil [Spatial Rend]!"
As the skill activated, Demiurge flexed his arms. In and out, he gashed the claws on his hands, creating horizontal and vertical spatial slashes in the direction of the fool-hearted bullman who attacked him out of anger and spite. The colorless slashes of pure energy hit the bullman with lightning speed.
"Mngoahh!"
Gilthur felt his arms and legs had painlessly parted from his body. He toppled down into the grass. Ramming the fields with his face, he was pressed against the leafy bitterness he loved as he dashed with unstoppable momentum from his sudden and inevitable fall.
Collapsed against the ground with no controls for his paralyzed arms and legs, Gilthur was left with no choice. He wrestled using his head and horns, successfully turning his body upside down. Without taking a breath, Gilthur frantically darted his gaze left and right. At that same moment, he noticed the abominable horror that had dawned upon him as if an undeniable illusion. His arms and legs were cleanly cut, bloodlessly detached, leaving his upper body intact.
The bullman gritted his teeth and with all his force, he tried to raise his head and saw paces away from him a pair of bodiless arms and legs. He turned his head to his side and glared at the brutal and powerful toadman who kept on hovering, tirelessly laughing insults on top of him.
"Mngoaaahhhhh! Mngoaaahhhhh! I will kill you. I swear on the name of my ancestors, I will kill you!"
The bullman king shrieked as he uselessly struggled to upright his body and earn back his wounded honor and pride. He was utterly smashed and defeated, his steel-like hide and high-speed regeneration were rendered useless for the first time in his life.
Seeing the bullman in despair, Demiurge simply giggled in response and landed himself, harshly grabbing the horn of the bullman king with his left hand.
Demiurge stared at the bullman king with lecherous eyes.
'This one is a very good specimen. It's a shame to kill it.'
With a spell, he tried to disable the bullman king.
"[Sleep]!"
The bullman king only growled with contempt, unaffected by the spell.
"Hmm."
Demiruge contemplated. His control skills and spell were ineffective but physical and magic skills could normally deal damage. Demiurge noted his brief experiment and concluded the bullman king was worthy of a thorough experiment for the benefit of Nazarick.
"I will need more time with you... Later!"
After hearing the excited words of the toadman, Gilthur felt a swift electrifying pain on the back of his neck, taking out his consciousness into the void of endless darkness. As he closed his eyes and uncontrollably descended into a nightmare of deep slumber, Gilthur could only think of his promise and the sole reason for living his life.
'I'm sorry Emirya... I'm sorry my son... I have failed both of you…'
A/N: The skill "Aspect of the Devil [Spatial Rend]" is non-canon and will simply serve as my addition to Demiurge's skill set in this fanfiction. Overpowered as he already is against the inhabitants of the New World, I hope this skill won't add much to the pile for it to matter.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope 2021 will be a great restart for everyone. More chapters next year! Cheers! :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Overlord Universe.