Oh yeah! Hiya everyone! Hmm… It seems I just had the sudden urge to update this story as well as mah others! Wow. It's kinda creepy. Hello to everyone and oh yeah! I will miss you Kyra! Yes you! I hope you'll still be reading this story all the way in South Carolina! J Hmmm… I wonder where Rika is. HEY RIKA! ARE YOU READING THIS TOO! Anyway, does anyone know how I can save all the crap I've typed into my comp so if I have to replace this computer I'm using I can load the story info on the new comp? Just wondering. Please help! Sorry to keep you all in suspense for so long but I was beginning to have evil doubts about my writing skills.. --curls into ball in the corner of room-- As for the pictures, I'm not sure I should put them up yet. People will steal! MINE! And now a shout out to all mah reviewers!
To headache-with-pictures: Thank you very much for the compliment! I likey your stories too!
To Quentin: Hiya person I know! Hehe. Thank you for your supports and reviews! Your momma kupo!
To Scary Carey/ Almond Goddess: I will miss you!
To Aurora Elvenstar: I know you! Hehe. Umm… I hope you see this. Thank you for the review!
To All The Other Reviewers: THANK YOU THANK YOU! I looooove reviews. Gimmee more!
Disclaimer: Why must you plague me! I own not the works of Blizzards nor the thingies called moogles from Squaresoft.
--"Dance kupo! At the demons, kupo!" the moogle says, dancing to the 'Why Can't We Be Friends?' song while the imp glares evilly at the moogle.'--
The demon Belial, Lord Of Lies, was often regarded in respect and fear by lower class demons during the reign of the Prime Evils. And those demons were right to fear him. You see, other demons, including even the Prime Evils, had to either possess or kill a human to take their victim's physical forms as their own. Belial, unlike any other demon, could actually take the shape of any physical appearance at will, often spinning a web of illusion and doubt upon his foes either on the battlefield or right in his enemy's own territory. This was a general that most sought to avoid at all costs. Unfortunately, Diablo didn't count in the 'most' category.
With the façade of Kyra's past inamorato Brandon, Belial cunningly devised that this would spur on his master's rage, sending him into an uncontrollable fury that would nevertheless blind the Prime Evil to most of his senses. Belial lunges, a blur of motion and color speeding towards Derek.
"You will not accept my offer to release your pathetic mortal?" the demon general taunts.
"Never. I will free Kyra," Derek replies darkly.
"Then you are more a fool than I past believed," Belial says, claw-like nails on his hands reaching out for Derek's form, intent on drawing strength from the demon lord. At the last minute Derek ducks under his enemy's talon-like hands, bringing up his own claws in a sharp angle, slashing the shape shifter across the chest. Recovering a few feet away, Belial inspects his torn shirt momentarily as crimson slivers of blood stain it an unholy shade, drops sizzling upon the floor tiles. A smile creeps across his countenance. Never before had anything been as challenging as this, a battle between two colossal forces, melee-style… and he was going to savor every viscous minute of his master's torment once he'd defeated him. There were so many more horrible fates beyond death, especially for a demon.
Derek catches himself on a cafeteria table lest his own inertia topple him, the surface of the plastic form blazing hot, unbearable to human touch. He readies himself, coiling energy into his legs should the need to sprint arise. On the other end of the hellish scenario, Belial straightens as he reaches into the loaded pockets of his jacket.
His hands withdraw rising before his face. Eight, silver blades, four per hand fit snuggly between his fingers protracted from his fists, their crystalline surfaces radiant with the fiery glow of the burning cafetorium emblazoning all around, flames threatening to consume the entire building and all lying within. The grin never leaving him, Belial begins to knit the blades in the air, slowly advancing towards his foe again. Finally, Derek can see why such a display was made. It became obvious what Belial was trying to do, he was making something known; tiny runes were inscribed in the blades, allowing them to wreak havoc upon the flesh of an immortal being as if it were a mere mortal.
The demon weaves the knives in swift, skilled arcs, light dancing in macabre calligraphy into Derek's face and protective arms. Overhead, defiant protests from the ceiling made it known that the building was ready to collapse in upon itself at any moment. Delicious, mad glee mirrors in Belial's reptilian eyes as he recoils a fist to plunge into his enemy's chest.
Suddenly, an explosion of pain rips through Belial's head as he is knocked away, sending him reeling into a set of flaming chairs resting against one wall of the rapidly dilapidating place. Blood traces a quicksilver line down the corner of his mouth, which he spits away and looks up.
Of course. He'd forgotten the Lord Of Destruction, intervening to protect his precious little brother. In the past, Baal had been revered as a dangerous opponent as well, recognized as one of the most relentless, merciless, and skilled demons in all of Hell. With extra help from the multitudes of razor-tipped tentacles that were part of his body and his expert knowledge of arcane magicks, thanks to the fool Tal Rasha, this particular Prime Evil was an army of himself. However, Belial notices with much bewilderment, the Lord Of Chaos had chosen to remain in his feeble mortal form, cutting away much of the leverage Baal could've had in this battle. Why had he chosen to weaken himself in such a way? What was there to hide? The rebellious general's maddened glee became a malicious exhilaration.
Brian sidles next to his wounded brother, both preparing to sear Belial with demonic fire and lightning, radiant energy clustering about their palms, eyes alight and intense. However, intervention strikes a second time, the two Prime Evils barely avoiding the serrated, biting edge of a wicked sword. A bat-like form of a black, swirling coat coagulates beside Belial, Azmodan joining his fallen comrade. A glittering, infernal blade shines in his grip, his cape-like coat snapping in the heat-spawned draft.
"Having a bit of trouble?" the auburn-haired demon asks sarcastically. Belial simply grunts and struggles back up from the heap of broken chairs.
By now, every wall of the cafetorium is aflame and hungry embers climb large, cloth curtains that cover the buildings windows. The gathered demons stare each other down, paying no mind much to the rising temperature. Kyra, however, began writhing in her chains even in her unconscious state, the metal bonds becoming unbearably hot.
The opposing evil forces lunge once again towards each other, the Prime Evils possessing speed and power, and the two generals using treachery and predictability on their side as well as actual weapons designed especially for such an encounter. Blood decorates the surrounding tables and floor. Baal, locked in combat with the sword-wielding Azmodan, has so far dodged everything that had been thrown his way, including the various obstacles like the cafeteria chairs and upended trash bins strewn around the area. Using meager spells, truly the only ones available to him at this moment, to deflected Azmodan's constant attacks, Baal felt much nostalgia running through his mortal frame; waves of ruthless slaughter and heartless bloodshed in which he'd reveled before, came roiling back into his mind, somewhat slightly sickening him now as he parried the silver edge of the general's blade.
Diablo, on the other hand, fought the knife-wielding Belial with his own bare hands, wanting nothing more than to wrap his palms around the general's throat and slowly let the seemingly immortal life leak from the rebellious demon's mouth. Skillfully dodging most of his assailant's onsets and appearing to pay no mind to the red-hot slashes that slit along his skin, Diablo became more and more enraged as Belial had planned. The Prime Evil knew that every precious bit of life was slowly dripping from the beloved Kyra with every second spent in combat with the shape shifter. The baking tiles of the building begin to fracture beneath Derek's feet, the demon's eyes alight with an internal fire of their own. Belial's smirk disappears as a crackling, unholy, horizontal pillar of fire sweeps it's way towards the demon general from Diablo's direction, capable rending him into a smoldering pile of demonic ash…
Barely deflecting it time with the aid of the enchanted blades, Belial notices at the last minute that this attack from his master had been merely a distraction. Diablo had bolted for his treasured human.
Derek can feel his foe pounding after him, he only a few feet from Kyra. Behind him, the form of Brandon shifted, growing larger, more reptilian, more dangerous. A gurgling, wet roar resounding off the walls in a vile, profane echo told Derek that he had more to worry about than just a few cuts from a blade now. Meanwhile, Brian found himself confronting a transforming foe as well, Azmodan's body contorting and snapping as he once again donned the bat-like creature form first encountered by the girls at the daycare. Crumbling chunks of the roof rained down upon the Prime Evils and their changing adversaries. Belial's form was indescribable beyond anything born of this world save that it could've compared to an ungodly, twisted chameleon that was colossal in size to the extent that it's massive, bony head collided momentarily with the ceiling.
Jagged rows of needle teeth met Derek's left arm, dragging him across the floor and widening the gap between him and the unfortunate girl. The chameleon beast flings Derek through one of the tables, splitting it into two halves. Derek flinches in insurmountable agony, his own blood trickling from his torn left arm and face. 'Kyra, Kyra…' is all that he can think of though. Saving her was the least he could do before Belial finally destroyed his master. An impossibly huge and gnarled claw wrenches the poor demon lord from his crumpled heap by his leg, claws ripping into his calves. To Derek's right, he can see that Azmodan too had resorted to grabbing Brian and plowing him into the walls via aerial assault, the bat creature's papery wings clapping as he circled about to repeat his battery on the Lord Of Chaos. But it took more than that to defeat a demon lord…
Suddenly, the brilliance of daylight flood into the hellish scene, creating a blinding halo around three figures…
'--"Whew kupo. That's ALOT of words kupo!" the moogle comments, now bugging the crap out of the imp. The imp says, "At the angels, kupo. Silence kupo!"--
It had been the rising sentinel of smoke that had alerted them, Hadriel the first to point it out to his comrades. A thick, black blanket soaring into the air over the campus.
"Odd. Why ever would a mortal building be aflame than by the hand of an infernal denizen?" Hadriel says.
The trio of seraphim make their way towards the burning cafeteria instead of their initial route to the Detention building.
"Be on guard everyone," Tyrael commands, each angel withdrawing their weapons for what was surely to be quite an encounter.
Pushing their way in through the smoldering doors, the angels' greatest fears stood before them. "So, demons have finally leaked their way onto the mortal plane…" the archangel leader whispers, bolting into the room with his comrades trailing behind every step of the way. Running mostly on instinct, Tyrael and Hadriel advance upon the two creatures in lieu of the more human-like forms who seemed to be losing to the beasts, rushing over the various obstacles of the cafetorium in great haste. Izual, however, knew well from the awful feeling in his gut that the losing party happened to be his own secretive masters. A blast of rising heat sailed against his face, buffering the fallen archangel's resistant body . Catching a surprisingly grateful glance from his lords, he too rushed the monstrosities. The two, evil abominations howl their rage as Tyrael's Azurewrath, Hadriel's Mourning Glory, and Izual's Shadowfang bite into their tainted skin, the archangels intent on at least subduing the demons before assessing the situation completely. Demons first, questions later.
From the corner of his malicious eye, Belial can see the broken Prime Evils taking this chance to release the bonded human, Derek carefully yet hurriedly placing her unconscious self over his wounded shoulder, the chameleon demon unable to do anything about it. Success was slipping rapidly away. His angry bellow echoes loudly as Brian and Derek, retreating to a backdoor exit through a flaming alcove of a kitchen, fleeing back to wherever it was they hid…
Whew! Okay! Wow! This is two day's worth of typing and I am tired. HOly crap! I just read it in like five minutes! What the heck is this? All my blood and soul poured into this and it doesn't even last me an eyeblink! I wanna break down and cry. Yay! Okay so this chapter was rather foreboding in the sense that you can see what kind of trouble the Three are up against now… How do ya' like it? Review, review, review! Mayne it'll cheer me up. Eek… even these ending comments are eating my fingers. Ouch… And now for the votes:
Salem: 3
Brian: 4
Selena: 3
Derek: 3
Kyra: 4
Rika: 3
Melvin: 2
Tyrael: 0
Hadriel: 0
Izual: 0
Azmodan: 0
Belial: 0