Chapter Twenty Five
The Eternal Palace, Lucifaad Territory
The Satan of House Leviathan soared across the skies above the Tower of Envy. Below her, Loyalists and Renegades slaughtered one another with hatred in their hearts as the final confrontation to decide the outcome of all Devilkind took place.
One question plagued Tereaku Leviathan's heart.
"How did it come to this?"
Few of her kind ask the question anymore.
By the end of the Great War, Devilkind was leaderless, disorganized, and exhausted.
The Great Houses tried to reinvigorate support for a renewed conflict with Heaven and the Grigori with the same blind vigor their sire once called for.
But the Pillars had been utterly ravaged by their campaign in Heaven, and over half of them were extinct.
On the outside, the Devils were still one people but increasingly divided.
This division didn't exist a millennia ago, and neither did their people.
Their progenitor, Lucifer, carved out a mighty empire to oppose the reign of Heaven and founded their people to cast down his father.
Devilkind rallied to his banner, throwing themselves into the scorching lances of Heavens without hesitation.
Tereaku herself fought across a hundred different battlefields over a millennia's worth of warfare, not unlike many other Lords and Ladies on both sides of this bloody civil war.
She reminisced the sweet taste of victory on her tongue when Lucifer breached the walls of Heaven and led his Legions into the fray, casting down entire swaths of Angels and Archangels as they desperately tried to prevent the destruction of their emerald city.
She remembered that victory turning into ash when Azazel's Fallen fell upon their rear guard and turned their final victory into a fight for survival.
She would never forget the death of Lucifer and her Mother, nor the psychic shockwave that surged across the armies of both Heaven and Hell, sapping their strength and ending the Great War in a bitter, unresolved culmination.
When their Legions returned to the Underworld, Tereaku believed that her people were ready and willing to continue the war and fulfill Lucifer's dream of a future without the dogs of Heaven in their way.
But that is not what she came home to.
Devilkind was exhausted, and for the first time, she saw defiance in the eyes of her fellow Nobles.
She idolized the grace of Seraphalia Sitri, she favored the tactical genius of Fervan Astaroth, and sought to emulate the discipline of Zekram Bael.
But none earned her admiration more than Cedric Kimaris. She knew the Shadowlord of House Kimaris well and served alongside him from the Battle of Agrapon to the Siege of Heaven.
He was completely loyal to Lucifer, serving as his right hand when other Satans and Lords failed to execute his command.
But when Cedric ignored Bashalum's call to war, she knew he would not be the last.
The defiance from House Kimaris eventually inspired the Houses of Bael and Gremory to raise their banners against the Satans.
Tensions rose, Houses chose sides, and the inevitable soon became a reality.
Civil War the likes of which she has never thought possible.
Tereaku felt his presence long before he came to a sudden halt in front of her.
A figure garbed in the colors of House Astaroth with slicked-back green hair stared at the Leviathan with a pair of bewitching blue eyes.
Ajuka mirrored her steadfast posture, but both Super-Devils could see the exhaustion hidden inside their bodies.
They were both tired of this war, tired of killing each other, but pride and loyalty kept them all from the negotiating table.
This conflict would only end in total victory for one side.
Nothing more, nothing less.
The Leviathan called upon the ancestral power of her house, and tendrils of water formed a protective shield around her body.
The question that gnawed at her soul came to life once more. "How did it come to this?"
The answer came easy to the future Satan.
"How could it not?"
Katarea would never forget reading the inscribed words that ignited this civil war delivered by a messenger of House Bael.
For the future of all Devilkind, we no longer recognize the authority of Lucifaad or its ruling Houses.
Her heart sank when she read the long list of houses that renounced their loyalties to the Houses of Lucifer.
The empire their forefather had carved out of nothing, but dirt and sheer determination was being torn apart from the inside.
And Katarea watched it all from within the primary command and control center of the Eternal Palace, where Loyalist Commanders organized the city's defenses from the spires pinnacle.
The city was falling apart everywhere she looked.
The famed Incaris Legions that had found victory time and again during the Great War finally met their equals in their sister Legions, whom they held in contempt throughout the conflict. Those assigned to the outer walls were completely overrun, forcing the deployment of five reserve Legions from House Asmodeus.
Loyalist Nobles, Inquisitorious Seekers, and Incaris Legates scrambled across the CIC in an unnerved fashion, each directing or carrying out orders as the Siege of Lucifaad hurtled towards an inevitable climax.
Katarea stood with her arms crossed and back straight as her lilac eyes presided over the bleeding capital of all Devikind. Her visage was covered by a custom-made Leviathan helm worn through every bloodstained campaign across the realms of Heaven and Hell.
The mask was an instrument of warfare, and she swore upon her Mother's life that she would never have to bear it within the confines of Lucifaad and that such brutality would never come to Lucifer's crown jewel so long as she lived.
And then Cedric Kimaris went and made her a liar.
Despite Katarea's internal desire to violently remind these panicking Lords the importance of discipline, she could not tear her eyes away from the carnage below.
She watched plumes of thick black smoke emerging from the city below, blinding their vision and forcing her commanders to organize their soldiers through the Palace's communication sigils.
Not even in her wildest nightmares did she believe that the walls of Lucifaad could ever be breached after the Great War, but the Renegades succeeded where both Heaven and the Grigori failed.
Katarea felt a Loyalist commander fall in behind her and fall to a knee. The grey and black shading of his armor were in keeping with the colors of House Leviathan, marking him as one of her many subordinates.
"My Lady." His gaze remained rooted to the floor, unwilling to stare at the Leviathan and earn her ire. "Lord Beelzebub has commanded you to delay the intruders and keep him away from the Nebiros laboratories."
"Of course he did." The Leviathan muttered with distaste.
Anger momentarily took hold of Katarea's faculties, and her wrathful gaze fell upon the nervous Devil.
She had no doubts that Bashalum fully expected her to die carrying out this command, and not for the first time did she silently curse the Satan's name.
In the past few weeks, Bashalum had grown more unreachable; even while Lucifaad was under siege, he continued to isolate himself in the Nebiros laboratories, entrusting the other Satans with safeguarding their home even though Rizevim was also missing.
The Satan of House Lucifer deserted the city not days before the Renegades laid siege, taking a small cable of retainers with him and abandoning the Loyalist cause.
Bashalum seemingly followed in Rizevim's footsteps, albeit in the hopeless pursuit of taming a 'powerful weapon.'
This left the Loyalists with two less Satan-classed Devils to match the powerhouses of Ajuka Astaroth, Serafall Sitri, Sirzechs Lucifer, and Cedric Kimaris.
Their situation was damn near hopeless, with Rizevim gone and Bashalum refusing to take the field the Loyalist cause now rested on the shoulders of an unlucky few.
Zereikel Asmodeus, Grayfia Lucifuge, and Tereaku Leviathan.
Grayfia organized the Eternal Palace's defense inside the west wing while Asmodeus led a counterattack on the northern gates with eight Incaris Legions.
The chances of him breaking Serafall Sitri's hold on the northern district was slim at best and damn near impossible at worst.
Asmodeus was the weakest of the four satans, and Serafall's aptitude for ice magic far outclassed his demonic power. It was only a matter of time before the Sitri froze him and his Legions into ice.
That left Katarea's eldest sister as the last real hope for the Loyalist cause, and she was fighting the Astaroth near the Tower of Envy.
Her wary gaze spotted two winged figures crisscrossing one another as razor-sharp blades of water smashed into beams of emerald green infernal energy.
The colorful exchange was a backdrop to the brutal close-quarter fighting at ground level, where Incaris Legionairys and Loyalist Guardsmen butchered one another for control of the Tower of Envy.
"If this is to be our end, sister." Tereaku's voice, a melodic tone that always settled Katarea's nerves, came to life once again. "Then we shall greet it with open arms. For what are the words of our house?"
"We are the infinite." Katarea shared a warm embrace with her beloved sister, one she hoped would not be the last time.
*BOOM!*
A colossal explosion of demonic energy littered the skies above the Tower of Envy and sent a kinetic shockwave across Lucifaad.
She couldn't see the figures anymore, and that lack of sighting alone instilled a tinge of sorrow into Katarea's stout heart.
"My lady?" The Leviathan glanced back at the Legionary, but he wasn't the only one awaiting her orders.
Silence consumed the command center, and for the first time, the Loyalist Commanders scrambling across the room in panic looked upon Katarea for guidance.
Sorrow could come later.
For now, it was Katarea's duty to see this civil war to its bitter end.
"If Bashalum desires time, then we shall give him all the time we can." She turned on her heels, brushing past the anxious Legionary and shouldering her way through the mob of silent commanders to take stock of their situation. "Deploy our reserve Legions to the Towers of Wrath, Gluttony, and Lust."
Another explosion rocked the tower, but this time it came from within the spire's interior, and not seconds later, Seeker Soklan a report filtered into the command room.
"I've lost contact with the Inquisitors outside the Nebiros Laboratories."
"Impossible, the Renegades are still fighting in the lower levels they can't-"
"It's the Kimaris boy." Katarea interrupted the Inquisitorious agent with a snarl. "Cedric's spawn is far more dangerous than you predicted, Seeker."
"My Lady, I-urgk!" The Leviathan wrapped her hand around his throat and pulled him close enough for his ears to echo her command. She crushed his throat and flung him into the far wall where his groveling corpse was no longer within sight.
The Kimaris spawn could not be allowed to continue on his path, so she turned to the communications officer and ordered him to warn the company of Infernal Guard protecting the laboratories of the boy's arrival.
Katarea knew that while the Infernal Guard were exceptional killers, they were still soldiers who relied on their training and discipline.
Cyrus Kimaris, despite his youth, had proven to be more than just another Renegade dog. Cedric gave birth to quite the specimen, and if times were different, she could have expected to be his wife one day.
But life rarely goes to order, and if Katarea had her way, Cyrus would not leave this tower alive.
The last Leviathan would carve her family's name into the history books by killing the heir to House Kimaris and giving Bashalum ample time to unleash his 'weapon.'
Katarea would ensure that her Loyalists would make the rebels pay dearly for every inch of this blasted city.
For the Leviathan is the infinite.
And they have no equal.
Ahri has killed plenty of people under the direction of Viktor Nebiros, and she severely doubted it would lessen under Cyrus's command.
But there was a stark difference between her two masters.
Viktor took unnecessary pleasure in her target's anguish, and he especially loved the taste of their fear while she hunted them down like rabid dogs.
It was one of many methods the Nebiros used to satisfy his sinful nature, and it was Ahri's preferred routine since it meant he had little need for her services in the bedroom.
Cyrus, as always, was different.
"Patience." His voice, a hyper-lethal tone that sent shivers down her spine. "These aren't your regular inquisitors. These Guardsmen are a step up from our usual prey. Find the officer. He dies first."
Ahri barely bit back a whimper when his hand left her clothed shoulder. Cyrus either didn't know or didn't care how intoxicating his presence was to her senses.
The bond between Vastayan and her master ran deeper than even the most intimate pledges, and every day it flared like a volcano ready to erupt.
It took every ounce of willpower imaginable to tear her eyes away from Cyrus and search for the officer amidst a clad of black and emerald armor.
She easily picked out their prey from the ramble by their sharply polished armor and an assortment of symbols engraved into his chest plate.
It practically screamed narcissist, which was right up the alley of every Devil she'd encountered.
Well, almost every Devil.
"Found him." She whispers, her hands becoming alight with senjutsu. "Is he my kill or yours?"
"Mine." Ahri shivers with delight, but she maintains her focus and picks out her prey.
A single Guardsman carefully worked his way up the corridor, unaware of how close he came to brushing against her obscured form with his Lance.
"KRK SHKRK FFRKRRK KR KSRKRH KRGK!?" Cyrus felt his ears prick at the scrambled voice, but a cursory glance to Ahri beckoned an answer.
"Security precaution." The Vastayan stated. "The Infernal Guard have vocal scramblers embedded into their helm. It was Viktor's idea."
Cyrus snorted with amusement. "I suppose he was destined to have at least one good idea."
"SHKRK FFRKRRK KR." A Guardsman stepped forward, drawing his superior's attention as both Devil's examined the butchered corpses. The senior Guardsmen swept his arm down the hallway, and his men responded with near-perfect discipline, spreading out across the corridor and covering every avenue.
It was near-perfect because they neglected to look up.
A shadowy arm emerged from the ceiling above an unsuspecting Loyalist, extending a blade from its wrist and driving it into the Devil's back. The blade sliced through the Guardsman's ornate armor, cutting bone and meat before the limb suddenly drew itself back and dragged the dying Loyalists into the abyss.
"FFRKRRK KR!"
"KSRKRH KRGK!?"
"Take them." Ahri surged forward, driving a ki dagger through the eye socket of the closest Legionary before snapping her free limb towards his comrade and blasting him with a concentrated wave of ki energy.
The Guardsman slammed into the nearby wall, causing his armor and torso to buckle under the intense pressure.
The Vastayan didn't pause to revel in her kills, sliding to her right and avoiding a Lance to the back of the head.
"KSRKRH KRGGH!" Ahri threw herself at the Guardsman while yanking at the strands of spiritual energy that always hovered around her.
The Devil raised his Lance high to decapitate the Vastayan, but she slipped sideways and swung an extended ki blade up in a diagonal slash.
"FFRKRRK RGRK!" The Guardsman's arm and Lance both spun away across the black sand, and he fell backward screaming, his remaining hand clutched at his severed arm as blood sprayed high into the air.
Ahri finished him off by flinging a ki dagger into his forehead, silencing his cries and allowing her a brief reprieve. She turned just in time to see Cyrus dispatch the Infernal Guard Officer by driving an arm encased in demonic energy through his sternum.
The Kimaris danced between the shadows of each Guardsman before silencing their incoherent shrieks in a magnificent symphony of violence.
The darkness beckoned to his will.
Cyrus carved through a Guardsmen with every step as the tendrils of darkness following in his wake slayed any Loyalist that evaded their Lord's attention. He stepped over the bodies of the fallen as he advanced, never wavering or halting his charge.
The Infernal Guardsmen did not cower, nor did they stand waiting to be slaughtered to a man. The Scourge of Heaven surged forward, seeking to match Cyrus's brutality with the cold discipline that won them victory after victory during the Great War.
But these Devils were not accustomed to fighting in such confined spaces, and neither were they able to utilize their numbers when the darkness struck at their heels.
The Great War was brutal, but it was fought with tactics that Cyrus considered…archaic.
His speed overwhelmed their rigor, his strength overcame their discipline, and his ferocity conquered their lives.
It was a beautiful thing to witness.
Ahri moved to keep pace with her master, but his speed and ferocity were unlike anything she had seen. Cyrus was a paragon of violence that would have made the Bloodravens of House Agares jealous.
"SHKRK KR!" As he felled another Guardsman, Cyrus held his right hand forward, and a radiance of raw demonic energy melded around his closed fist.
With a cold calculus, Cyrus thrust his hand towards the nearest panicking Devil and unleashed his power.
A single projectile of dark energy surged from his forearm, slicing through the gathered Loyalists and causing the armor to dissipate into melted chunks of steel.
Further down the hall, the projectile scalded through another group of Guardsmen, slicing through Devil after Devil and forcing those few who could react to hurl themselves to the floor. With a thunderous blast, it slammed into the steel doors, exploding chunks of debris and splinters into the hallway.
Ahri had become a spectator to Cyrus's symphony, and for the first time, she felt grossly unqualified to stand beside him, let alone in his presence.
His slaughter of the Inqusitoris days earlier was a beauty, but that massacre could not match the cold brutality thrust upon the Infernal Guardsman.
For their short time together, Cyrus had shown an incredible aptitude for violence, but Ahri did not dare to presume that he could take on two dozen Infernal Guardsmen by his lonesome.
But these doubts were a moot point as she stared into the vacant eyes of a deceased Guardsman.
"Ahri." His voice beckoned the Vastayan from her stupor, and she glanced up to find her master gazing at her with blood splashed across his face. "Stay focused."
The Vastayan bit back an instinctual apology. Only action would satisfy her master, for he cared little for excuses or confessions.
To that end, Ahri replaced any verbal reply with sudden action, spiriting past Cyrus and driving a pair of ki daggers through the eye sockets of a fast-approaching Infernal Guardsmen.
"KR SHKRR!" The Loyalist screamed with agony as Ahri sliced through his armor and split him in two. She rose to her feet to find a contingent of Infernal Guardsman and Incaris Legionairys advancing toward her at a steady pace.
However, Ahri's amber orbs looked past this line of Loyalists soldiers in favor of staring at the sigil of House Leviathan sigil emblazoned upon the armor of a Noblewoman.
One she recognized almost instantly.
"Katarea." The Leviathan marched forward, lilac eyes never once glancing away from the Vastayan's blazing amber orbs.
"Ahri." The Noblewoman spat with distaste. "I see you didn't waste time abandoning our cause once Viktor died."
"I was never loyal in the first place." Ahri stepped over her kill and stalked toward the line of Guardsmen with a deadly smile. "When a bastard like Bashalum is in charge, and an idiot like Viktor is allowed to run amok, it becomes difficult to give my loyalty."
"Save your excuses, Vastayan," Katarea countered. "Does your master know you're a craven who jumps ship when it's convenient? Or did all he have to do was kill Viktor before you spread your legs for him?"
"That's rich coming from you after your liaison with the Baron of House Abbadon. I suppose you must be accustomed to getting what you want as long as you're willing to get on your knees."
Katarea exploded with fury, and were it not for a sturdy hand moving her to the left, allowing a bolt of demonic energy to sail mere inches past her head.
"What did I tell you earlier." Ahri grimaced at the annoyance in Cyrus's voice, and she kept her eyes forward.
"Stay focused." The Vastayan supplied as his hand slid off her shoulder.
"Don't let it slip again."
Cyrus's fingers curled around the smooth haft of a Lance taken from a dead Guardsman. His crimson eyes scrutinized Katarea and her Loyalists, blocking their path toward the Nebiros Laboratories.
The heavy set of ornate doors leading into the lab was undoubtedly reinforced with magical barriers, and bypassing would be a challenge.
Worry not Reclaimer. These doors will fall once you've removed these creatures from our sight.
"Then let's get this over with."
Cyrus silently linked his mind with Ahri's, and she accepted the connection without resistance.
"What's the plan?" She asked.
"Our timetable's been cut in half." Cyrus began. "The twins are delaying reinforcements from the Tower of Wrath, but they won't be able to hold for long. I'll handle the Leviathan. You kill the rest."
Short and to the point, just the way Ahri liked it.
"Lord Kimaris." Katarea cut into their conversation with a sharp tone; evidently, she was severely at odds with being ignored for any substantial amount of time. "You've garnered quite the reputation in such a short amount of time. I crossed blades with Lady Jade during the Battle of Ashfell, but our bout ended prematurely. Tell me, why were you not on the field that day?"
"I wasn't ready." Ahri barely kept from snorting with amusement. It would be a far more apt description to say that the war wasn't ready for him, but she digressed.
"Indeed." The Leviathan flexed her fingers, bringing to life a half dozen arcane circles teeming with demonic energy. "Any last words, my Lord?"
"Just one…." Ahri felt a familiar, yet aggravating, burst of aura gather in droves behind her.
The Vastayan had hoped to avoid crossing her path inside the Palace, but fate had other plans.
"…Penemune."
A spear of tainted light burst from Cyrus's shadow and screamed toward a stunned Katarea. The Leviathan could only raise a magical barrier to deflect the heavenly projectile, but in doing so, she condemned three of her Guardsman to a scorching death.
Cyrus kicked off his heels and poured a dose of demonic energy into his Lance. Three bursts of ionized plasma ejected from the polearm and slammed into a pair of Guardsman to Katarea's left.
"Kill the swine!" The Leviathan sought to act first, but Cyrus interceded and slammed his shoulder into Katarea's gut, driving her into an adjacent chamber separate from her accompanying Guardsman.
"My Lady!" Three of their number sought to assist their master, but an equal number of holy spears scorched through their meaty bodies before they could even take a step in her direction.
Ahri felt a blistering sensation brush against her skin, and a tainted light burgeoned out the corner of her eyes.
"Now, now, little devils." Penemune stepped into view, flanked by a squad of Kyropteras. "Your fight is with us."
The Vastayan didn't banter with the Loyalists, kicking off her heels and unleashing a ball of pure ki energy into their ranks.
The swirling ball of energy slammed into a Guardsman, burrowing itself into his armor and exploding himself and his ornate armor. Chunks of meat and metal scattered in all directions, breaking the Guardsman's faltering line and allowing the Kyropteras free reign to but her them utterly.
While Ahri joined the melee, Penemune eyed the Nebiros laboratories with a wary gleam.
A steady surge of demonic energy exhumed from the laboratory doors, infecting the Palace in a hauntingly familiar taint.
The walls screeched in protest, tiny imperceivable cracks began to manifest within the floors, and the atmosphere itself slowly became marred with an oppressive weight.
The Devils didn't feel it, their bodies were subconsciously ignoring Calcabrina's presence, and the blinding rush of combat-filled adrenaline consumed their mindset.
Penemune knew the immense power of Calacabrina well enough, and nothing could ever make her forget its raw, festering energy.
Her fight and flight instincts boiled, but she would rather die a million agonizing deaths than run for the hills.
She had a reputation to maintain, after all.
However, in that same breath, she couldn't wait for Cyrus to dispatch Katarea before infiltrating the laboratory.
Time was of the essence.
And they were running out of it.
With silent determination, Penemune slipped past streaking bolts of plasma and screaming soldiers until she stood before the laboratory entrance.
A foul taint spilled from its crevices, damaging the scores of protective runes and seals dotting its surface.
Penemune flicked her wrist, blasting down the heavy gates and revealing nothing but a thick fog of crimson red.
Her breath came out in cold whisps, but she did not survive the wrath of Satan or God to be cowed by this…monstrosity.
The Cadre stepped into the all-encompassing darkness with only a bright heavenly spear to light her path.
The air itself clung with the stench of death, and all was silent save for the fighting outside and the tread of her feet upon the bloodstained tiles. Dismembered corpses, spilled organs, and other vulgar refuse littered the floors leading further into the chamber.
The expansive chamber contained an assortment of crude medical equipment and facilities. The Cadre knew the Nebiros' predilection for deadly experimental research well, but to see their work firsthand was…difficult.
Penemune didn't particularly enjoy Devils or their nature. Still, before she became a Fallen of the Grigori, she was an Angel of Life charged with preserving that which God created, and in some ways, her father was responsible for the creation of Devilkind.
No matter how much she hated the idea of her creator playing a hand in creating such a distasteful species.
Time no longer held meaning within this chamber. Penemune continued to stumble across body after body until she encountered a familiar face, one she fought to a bloody standstill throughout the Great War.
Bashalum Beelzebub laid upon the mutilated corpse of his clan's many arthropods. His body was little more than a clump of meat hanging onto his bones by tendons and torn muscles.
The Satan's skull was impaled upon a meat hook, hanging from the roof above and Penemune took a small amount of pleasure at his inglorious death. Bashalum was always an egotistical fool who flaunted his power as if it were gifted to him by Satan himself, but he was nothing more than a leech living off his father's name alone.
Penemune would have celebrated in any other circumstance, but his death only confirmed what she had come to prevent.
Calcabrina was off her leash.
"Damn you, Bashalum." The Cadre couldn't help but sneer at the Satan's hanging skull. "You may have just doomed us all to oblivion."
These Devils are such pitiful creatures. A pair of burning red eyes loomed all around the Fallen. Don't you agree, Fallen?
The darkened orbs stalked forward, ready to pounce upon the distracted Cadre.
But Penemune has never been found wanting.
"Fuck you, Calcabrina."
Cadre and Malebranche clashed.
And the very heart of all Devilkind shook in protest.
"We are your betters!"
A swarm of Dubhra Garrachs clashed with a pack of poisonous Serpents, tearing one another asunder even as their masters fought one another to a standstill.
"We are the legacy of Lucifer!"
During the Great War, Cedric Kimaris made a pact with the First Leviathan to marry her granddaughter to his first son should he be blessed with one. It would have united two of the greatest Clans in the Underworld and usher in a new generation of 'Shadow Serpents.'
Now, the heirs of House Kimaris and Leviathan came together, not to bind each other in sanctimonious matrimony, but to settle an ancient question that was once spoken upon the lips of their Legionaries.
Who would die first?
The Leviathan?
Or the Shadow?
Cyrus struck out with a shock wave of infernal energy, deflecting a downward slash from Katarea's crystalline sword.
The Leviathan continued her assault, unleashing flares and fireballs of daemonic energy with every slash of her blade. Cyrus protected himself, drawing upon the surrounding darkness boiling across the throne room as the magic cascaded around him.
Katarea continued to mock and belittle Cyrus with snide comments meant to distract him from their duel, but he wasn't bothered by her remarks.
Not when the malevolent entity seated in his mind did a far better job vexing the Spartan.
We are running out of time.
"I know." Cyrus seethed back, releasing a blast of raw energy that forced Katarea to deploy a series of runes to siphon his attack's lethal properties lest it tears her in half.
Then why are you delaying? Finish this creature so we can kill the abomination.
"I am trying."
Try. Harder. The entity growled its dissatisfaction, earning a snort of discontent from Cyrus.
All things considered, he was doing a decent job combating a borderline Ultimate Class Devil. Katarea was an experienced commander with a premium combat aptitude that rivaled Jade and Ghislaine.
"As you wish." Then Spartan dodged a flurry of attacks from the Leviathan, patiently waiting for her to make an error he could exploit.
Every ounce of magic was repulsed, every slash of her sword was parried, and every biting comment of egotistical remarks was ignored.
Devils are prideful creatures, easily taken by their emotions.
And Katarea was exhuming a potent amount of resentment.
Cyrus exploited her recklessness, sidestepping an overextended downward slash from her sword and trapping the blade beneath his arm.
The Leviathan widened her eyes in disbelief as he closed the distance between them. His free hand reared back in a closed fist, blistering with such a potent concentration of demonic energy that she could feel its power crawling upon her skin.
Katarea dissolved her sword and pulled her arms back just in time to raise them in defense, but the blow impacted with the force of a thousand demons, sending her haphazardly flying through the air until she slammed flush against the far wall.
When her mortal body bounced off the concrete, Cyrus thrust forward, wrapping his hand around her skull and driving it back into the wall.
Her cries of pain echoed across the chamber, but he continued to bludgeon her cranium until the only audible sound from Katarea was a long winding pathetic mewl.
Cyrus gave the woman a once over, ensuring she was incapacitated, before turning on his heels to head back to the Nebiros Laboratories.
He'd barely made it a step before a colossal shaking reverberated throughout the Palace, and a freezing chill ran up his spine.
It was a sensation he could not explain in any fine detail, but for the first time in his life, Cyrus was not in control of his own faculties.
And that frightened him.
"Ahri." The Spartan felt a tinge of panic echo in his voice as he telepathically reached out to his Vastayan. "What is happening?"
The entity answered his inquiry, and its tone echoed was filled with despair.
We are too late.
Across the Underworld, a death knell has sounded for, 'She who walks on the brine has awoken from her eternal slumber.'
And all will suffer if she wills it.
Devils of every kind felt the Malebranche's poisonous taint. Civilians clutched their heads and screamed with maddening terror, legionaries threw down their arms and ran for shelter, and even the great lords of a dozen noble houses felt their limbs slack.
The famous duel between star-crossed lovers abruptly halted as Sirzechs Gremory, and Grayfia Lucifuge looked upon the Eternal Palace in silent horror.
Cedric Kimaris, the venerable Lord of the Shadowlands, leads the vanguard of his army, cutting deep into the heart of Lucifaad alongside his chosen Tribunes. His charge grinds to a steady halt as the full weight of Calcabrina's power settles upon his shoulders.
The Grigori's infamous Governor General stood outside the crumbling walls, piercing eyes glaring at the Malebranche. He is one of the few to truly knew the insanity Lucifer had wrought when he created the Malebranche, and the world would burn if this madness weren't suppressed.
"Baraqiel," Azazel called forth his right hand and oldest confidant. "Is the army ready?"
"They await your command, Azazel." The gruff midnight-haired Cadre eagerly stepped forward. "You need only give the word."
"Patience, my friend." Baraqiel had no love for Devils, but he was a far better choice to lead his army than Kokabiel.
The 'Star of God' thronged with satisfaction to see the Devils put to the sword and he was sorely disappointed to find a token force of Kyroptera's pressing onward while the rest of their army remained on the border.
Kokabiel craved vengeance for the tragedies inflicted upon their kind during Great War, but he would find no peace in bloodshed, and neither would their people.
Of this, Azazel was certain.
"Return to the border and ensure Kokabiel falls to command. I will not have a second Great War begin due to his bloodlust."
"As you wish." Baraqiel dipped his head in acknowledgment before extending his wings and shooting off into the skies above. Azazel watched the fighting across Lucifaad halt to a complete standstill as a culmination of dark energy consumed the Eternal Palace.
*BOOM!*
A massive eruption of demonic power exploded from the Palace's main spire and surged towards the skies above Lucifaad.
"So it begins."
The volatile nature of a Malebranche cannot be put into words alone, for their power was cultivated through the burning hatred of God's favored son and the raw infernal ley lines entombed throughout the Underworld.
This power granted the Malebranche the unprecedented ability to call upon the creatures that populated the Underworld before Lucifer, and his devils wiped them clean from its surface.
There is a difference between a Devil and a Demon.
One is the scion of Lucifer, while the other is an entity of Chaos.
The Demons once ruled this land, unchecked and unchallenged, long before the idea of humanity was first planted within gods mind.
And they have waited for a Malebranche to call upon them again so that they might smite Lucifer's misbegotten ilk.
Hovering in the rupturing skies was a humanoid figure clad in scarlet red armor and two enormous thick wings unfurled for all to witness. A pair of ribbed horns protruded from her forehead where a halo of blazing fire looms but underneath this flame was a mop of blue hair and pale features belonging to Calcabrina's mortal anchor.
The Malebranche was not yet at full strength, but Azazel surmised that it was only a matter of hours before she completely consumed the poor girl acting as her retainer.
Azazel had hoped to obtain Calcabrina undamaged, but such hope no longer existed.
The dimensional terrors tainting the skies above in a bleeding red hue gave birth to great columns of crimson shining upon the city below.
A great roar echoed across Lucifaad as a creature of unparalleled size and power fell from the skies and crashed into the Tower of Wrath.
Its serpentine tongue flickered across rows of needle-like teeth, and its rippling muscles barely concealed the creature's scaly red hide. Deep black claws extended from its fingers, and within its grasp was a sword forged and sharpened through the might of a Malebranche's fury.
The Demons of the Underworld have returned.
And all will pay the price.
"We've been engaged!"
"What the fuck are these things?!"
"Their fucking DEMONS! Kill them where they stand!"
Chaos.
That's all Cyrus could see from the crumbling remains of Lucifer's Palace as he watched Ahri try to treat Penemune's damaged body. Lacerations and broken bones littered her frame, but the most severe of wounds was the gaping hole in her stomach.
"How are we looking, Ahri?" Caitlyn remarked while running her hands up and down several deep gashes along the left side of Penemune's body. She and Vi had regrouped with them not long after Cyrus discovered the wounded Cadre alongside Ahri and the Kyroptera.
The Fallen weren't keen on allowing the Devils near their commander, but none of them possessed the necessary aptitude for healing magic to save her life. They formed a tight perimeter around Penemune, refusing to allow any other Devil near her lest they suffer a light spear to the heart.
Vi stood to his right, her gunmetal orbs staring at the figure reigning death from above upon the whole of Lucifaad.
No one needed to explain to her where her beloved Powder was, and the crushing feeling of failure only rose tenfold the longer she stared at her corrupted sibling.
"Can we still save her?" She asked.
Cyrus answered with silence.
And her heart ached with sorrow.
"Arkias." The Spartan reached out to his Primus Legionnaire through their telepathic link. "Report?"
"The situation down here is untenable, my Lord. Our Centurias are scattered across the Palace and are under heavy contact. They're trying to make their way to the rally point, but they won't get here without incurring substantial losses."
"If they can't get here safely, tell them to dig in. The last thing I want is for them to get strung out and picked off by these Demons."
"Understood, my Lord." Arkias paused, dispatching an overzealous Demon screaming a guttural shriek. "What will you be doing."
"What I need to. Good luck, Arkias."
"You as well, my Lord." The connection faded into obscurity, leaving Cyrus to dwell amongst the shattered spire while the battle raged below.
From this vantage point, he could see his family throw themselves into the enemy without hesitation or mercy.
Jade led a vanguard of Legionnaires into a mob of scarlet-clad demons, eviscerating dozens of their number in one fell swoop.
Ghislaine skirted the rooftops, harassing scores of their enemy with bolts of potent infernal magic until a squad of Legionnaires completed the encirclement and butchered them to a man.
The twins and Christie expertly called upon their ancestral power, cladding themselves in Dark Carapace and slamming into a line of Demons wreaking havoc upon a beleaguered column of Renegade Legionnaires.
His Mother eclipsed her daughter's feats of bravery by exhuming the grace bequeathed to a lady of House Kimaris. She gathered thousands of Loyalists and Renegades to her side, commanding them with a charm reinforced by their innate desire for survival.
As of this moment, none of them were Loyalists or Renegades.
They were nothing less than Devils with one goal on their minds.
Survival
But this seamless integration of hated rivals wasn't enough.
The Demons poured through the dimensional tears without end, despite the efforts of Sirzechs, Serafall, and Grayfia rushing to stem the tide.
They didn't have the power or numbers to match Calcabrina's force.
But Cyrus did.
And all it required was to give his soul to something worse than the Devil itself.
It must be done, Reclaimer.
"I know."
His actions may just save them all from oblivion.
Are you ready? The entity spoke even as its dark energy swirled around Cyrus.
"Do I have a choice?"
No.
When did he ever?
"Cyrus?" Vi wasn't blinded by her grief to not notice him take a step toward the gaping hole. She reached out to snatch his shoulder, but a pair of black wings shot forth, knocking her hand away and leaving her in his dust. "Wait!"
Ahri's gaze snapped toward the Brawler's cry, and her eyes widened with disbelief. "Where is he going?!"
Vi watched his figure rush towards her corrupted sister with fear in her heart. There was nothing she could do to stop him or Powder, and she could only hope that her sister would somehow survive this catastrophe.
"He's going after, Calcabrina."
Hope.
Cyrus once said, 'hope was the first step on the road to disappointment.'
And that's all Vi had left.
The Spartan soared through the crimson skies even as tendrils of darkness came to life and burrowed into his body. He felt his limbs become alit with a flame that he hadn't felt since the procedure turned him into one of humanity's finest warriors.
You will be much more than that, Reclaimer. You will be the best that I can make you.
Cyrus huffed with morbid amusement.
Where had he heard that before?
Calcabrina watched, enthralled, as her forces tore into the city and its defenders with the grace of a rabid pack of animals.
The aroma of blood, Devil Blood, was sweeter than anything Calcabrina had smelled before, and it reverberated throughout her army of rage-filled demons. From her vantage point in the skies above, the Malebranche could see them indulging themselves with reckless abandon.
She longed to join them in the slaughter, but she was not yet ready to face down those Devils who exhumed the power of their wretched architect. Holding her favored spear, Deathbringer, in one hand, she drew the attention of both her army and the usurpers below.
She basked in the attention.
I AM SHE WHO WALKS ON THE BRINE!
I AM THAT WHICH LUCIFER COULD NOT CONTROL!
COULD NOT TAME!
COULD NOT BURY!
FEAR MY PRESENCE, FOR I SHALL STRIKE DOWN YOUR FLEDGLING EMPIRE AND RAISE THAT WHICH CAME BEFORE!
Her terrible wings spread wide across the battlefield, and she lowered her spear, targeting a cluster of Devils firing bolts of ionized plasma at her hovering form.
LET THEM BE THE FIRST TO SUFFER MY WRATH!
A beam of raw infernal energy laced with the hatred of a creature that knew nothing but rage fired from Calcabrina's Deathbringer and vaporized a full square mile of Lucifaad. Sirzechs was knee-deep in a swarm of Demons, unable to unleash the full capacity of his Power of Destruction without incurring casualties amongst his people.
He was hamstrung just like the rest of his fellow Tribunes.
The Malebranche let out an inhumane laugh.
YES! LET DESPAIR RULE YOUR HEARTS! LET YOUR BODIES TREMBLE WITH FEAR! KNOW YOUR TIME IS AT AN END, AND DIE IN A SHOWER OF YOUR OWN BLOOD!
In that moment of anguish, when despair and misery ruled the hearts of all within sight, something raced from the Palace.
Something dark yet comforting.
Something powerful yet controlled.
Something that few could ever truly understand unless they walked amongst the shadows.
There is an old proverb that House Kimaris lives by.
For where there is light, there is shadow. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.
And this shadow shall know no evil.
I HAVE WALKED AMONG MEN AND ANGELS FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS
Its armor was as dark as the silent moon.
TIME HAS NO END…NO BEGINNING…NO PURPOSE
Blades of unimaginable darkness extended from its forearms, and the shadows solidified their very being into deadly obsidian.
I HAVE WANDERED THE REALMS, SEEKING FORGIVENESS FOR MY HORRIBLE CRIMES AGAINST GOD AND MAN
Its mask was a plate of obsidian steel with five spikes lining the crown of its helm.
I HAVE LIVED TO SEE DEATH, DESTRUCTION, AND EVIL OVER THE LIGHT
A midnight black cape flowed with the raging winds, casting a shadow across the whole of Lucifaad.
BUT THE LIGHT CAN NOT BE EXTINGUISHED
The mask drew the Malebranche in, and a tinge of fear echoed in its black heart.
I HAVE LIVED IN A PRISON OF MY OWN DEMISE
Calcabrina knew of this… horror, but its name had never come to pass.
I AM LOST IN TIME
For it has traveled where none have traveled before, and it has come to finish that task that Lucifer neglected.
The shadow raised its arm, and the darkness sang with a booming discordant noise that threatened to burst the eardrums of all who heard it.
From the shade burst forth a legion of creatures known as Dubhra Garrachs amongst the Kimaris Household, their clawed and hoofed feet drowned out the doom of their foes.
The 66th Legion took heart, roaring the name of their Lord over and over like a mantra.
Others picked up the rhythm of the war chant, and it increased in volume until they cried out their Lord's name so loudly that all who bore the name Devil roared alongside them.
"Cyrus! Cyrus! Cyrus!"
AND NOW
The mask raised itself, and for the first time in her existence, Calcabrina knew fear.
SO ARE YOU
So close to finishing this arc. I hope everyone's doing well because I am relatively good now. I love my weekends away from the academy more than I have before.
Stay safe, everyone, and I hope to hear from you all in the reviews or DMS in the future.
