Chapter 12

Quiet ran for his life.

The ground, the trees, even the stone slabs all moved to defend him, but the demon dog easily tore through their assault, the most they could do was slow him down, maybe draw his attention away for a split second. Something in Quiet told him that in the past he was able to take advantage out such openings, and dispose of the enemy that way. But back then, he was bigger, stronger, he knew what to do. Now, the most he could think of was flee in terror, unable to even stop his screams from erupting from his chest.

It also didn't help that another part of him never had to fight before, he had always been the one other fought over. Now that he was in the center of the action… He had no idea what to do!

- What sort of mad sorcery is this?! Are you making a joke? – boomed the demon, making quick work of an attacking tree.

He spat a fireball towards Quiet, and while it missed, the resulting explosion sent the angel flying yet again, tumbling across the ground like a helpless ragdoll. Quiet tried to stand up, but one of the long tails snaked around his torso and lifted him up, squeezing him terribly. He screamed for Leendonn, helplessly kicking the air with his legs, hands desperately trying to peel off the bound.

- This is what the great Zaboul got reduced to – the demon growled angrily, slowly lifting his catch to eye level. – Chasing weak worthless dwarf angels on this mudball…

Quiet locked eyes with the monster and he froze up in fear.

- I am curious about these powers of yours, though – Zaboul grumbled. – What magic is this?

The angel did not answer, his entire being consumed by a crushing fear. He looked into those dead eyes, and suddenly saw a millions of similarly horrible faces flash up before him, each hideous, evil and cruel. They all wanted to hurt him, kill him, capture and torture him for their own amusement. Even that one… that single one whom he had trusted once (who?), ended up betraying him.

His instincts screamed at him. He needed to survive, he needed to get away, but how?!

- What, your voice doesn't work, wretch? Answer me!

One of the snakes bit Quiet on the shoulder, making him shriek in pain. Something snapped in him.

Fear suddenly turning into anger, Quiet grabbed the tail and sent his power through it. The tail literally exploded, dropping the angel and sending the howling demon flying. Quiet stood up slowly, blazing red eyes locked on his opponent, small legs firmly rooted on the ground. No… no running away. Leendonn fought with whomever had attacked them. He would do the same! Quiet opened his wings wide and took up a battle stance, allowing a clear ringing tone of challenge leave his chest:

Come, fiend! Face me now!

Zaboul struggled to his feet, glaring daggers at his opponent. His body did not escape the angel's wrath: one tail was completely gone, while the other got mangled, its snake-head end clearly dead. His hindquarters had literal fissures crisscrossing his body, where the excess energy strained his essence to nigh-snapping point. As a result, he could no longer maintain his towering posture, his hind legs could barely hold his weight.

- You miserable little nothing! – he bellowed, fire spewing from his mouth. – You dare challenge me?!

Quiet did not even twitch from his pose, only his eyes grew narrower. The red gems in his tiara and wings shimmered with power. The part of him that had never fought before finally found his footing in the feeling of his inner structure being disturbed. That would not do, not by this inferior unworthy being. He opened one hand, demanding the demonic toxin to leave his body and gather above his fingers into an orb. The liquid obeyed, he held it up for the demon to see well, before crushing it with his fingers, erasing it from existence.

That was his answer.

Zaboul suddenly burst out in laughter, his hyena-like voice ringing across the whole place.

- You think you can withstand my power, you little flea?! – he boomed, stomping his feet. – I am the Lord of Wrath! I am Rage itself! I've crushed entire armies by myself! You. Are. Nothing!

His body suddenly burst into flames, healing his injuries, enlarging him, twisting him further. His fur turned into molten lava, his feet into pillars of rocks, his tails into two whips of some kind of deadly poisonous plant. The flesh and skin quickly burnt away from his head, revealing the white skull filled with ebony-black teeth and white ghost fires filling the eye sockets.

Quiet took a shaky breath but did not run. If he was truly nothing, as his lack of a proper name indicated, then he had nothing to lose.

Zaboul tensed his legs, jaws opened wide with a battle roar as he jumped forward, his paws leaving the ground.

He crashed hard through an earth wall that sprung up right before him, and he stumbled to the ground, rolling over his head. He snapped his deadly jaws in every direction but by that time Quiet dashed out of the way, retreating among the stone slabs. He kept his eyes on the monster, his senses picking up the magical shockwave those stone legs sent into the ground. The angel flung himself from his spot a moment too soon, as stone spikes erupted from under his feet.

Great, the demon had many elements at his disposal, not just fire.

Well, two can play at that game.

Quiet reached out with his will, demanding that the world around him took up arms. Creatures moved around underground, and began crawling their way out. All around Zaboul, mounts of dirt shook and crumbled. Bones appeared, some still partially covered in dried flesh. A handful of them tried to reassemble themselves into something, but most chose the simpler option and flew at the demon like a myriad of bolts, thwacking him like hail. Quiet had no idea what all these bones were doing in this garden, but he didn't really stop to care.

- What are you?! – Zaboul roared at his opponent, the onslaught of human remains effectively stopping him from using magic temporarily. – A necromancer?! An elementalist?!

Quiet did not want to answer him, yet a single clear tone left his mouth, seemingly on its own accord. It was a strange, multi-layered melody, simply meaning:

Everything

Now where did that come from?

Quiet's focus failed as he pondered on this question. With a mighty roar, Zaboul sent shockwaves out of his body, washing the bones away and sending the angel flying. Quiet smacked into the wall of one of those nicer small buildings and crumbled to its base.

- WRETCH! – Zaboul howled, throwing himself after his opponent. – Delusional fool! A little nothing like you claiming that?!

He grabbed Quiet with his right paw and smacked him hard into the ground, once, twice, thrice.

- I had forged the Burst of Wrath!SMACK!I bathed it in the blood of a thousand of my kind to soak it with power!SMACK!I was feared by the Seven Evils themselves! SMACK!You have no hope of withstanding me! You are less than nothing!

Zaboul prepared to crush his victim into the stone-paved ground one final time, ending this ridiculous fight. However, the earth blew up under him and he felt something stab into his right shoulder with a merciless wet splut. A millisecond later maddening pain flooded his brain and he lost control over his right front leg.

Actually, he lost his entire right front leg.

An enormous lance of sheer diamond impaled him and tore off his limb, sending him rearing back with an earth-shattering scream of agony. Quiet fell to the ground, the severed leg spraying black blood all over the place, including him. He moved, pushed up his tattered body with his small shaky arms and raised his head. He slowly stood up, legs nearly buckling under him, wings drooped. Despite his miserable condition, he locked eyes with the demon defiantly, wiping the black blood out of his eyes, and his own shimmering one from his mouth.

Foam dripped from Zaboul's mouth, the ghost fires shrunk to small white dots of absolute madness in his eye-sockets. With one leg less, he too staggered a bit, struggling to find his equilibrium. He grew larger, darker, the molten lava skin hardening into layers of dark rocks. His mad rage only gave him strength, spurred by this little flea that dared stand up to him, even wound him twice now! His roar was choked by pain, intelligible words leaving him. Every single last fiber of his being and attention zeroed on his opponent, forgetting about everything else.

This angel dies now!

Zaboul lunged forward, fangs and claws extended. He didn't bother with magic, no. He would personally shed the accursed seraphim's bright blood!

His blow collided with a stone shield that formed before Quiet. The angel tumbled to the ground but he ordered the buckler to grow spikes and ram into the demon. It shattered against the hardened skin. The next swipe of the large paw got stuck on a thick root that bound the limb and smacked Zaboul into the ground with it. It got quickly incinerated, but it bought just enough time for Quiet to scramble out of the way and retreat.

Every inch of his body hurt, his hands trembled from fear and anger and the need to survive. He saw flashes of battle and a strange mirror-filled room of painful hooks and chains, and he figured these images would have flooded his mind by now, had it not been for his wild emotions. Quiet knew Leendonn was far away from here (and a part of him was grateful for his friend staying away from this beast), yet he caught himself helplessly crying his name as he retreated, hoping a miracle would happen. He blinked tears out of his eyes.

One of the long tails smacked into him and he flew, yet again, crashing through something hard and tumbling into a dark place with strange boxes and vases. The roof collapsed onto him, burying him under dust, wooden beams and tiles. His power from the start was abandoning him rapidly, Quiet could basically feel it slipping out of his grasp like water. The surroundings still rose to stop Zaboul but with less and less strength. The demon easily trampled all opposition, head wildly snapping from one side to the other, looking for his prey amidst the ruins.

Quiet saw his giant terrifying figure through a crack between his own makeshift tomb. The angel's anger was gone, and all that was left were a crushing exhaustion and an all-consuming terror, paralyzing him. He was weak, pathetic, less than nothing, as the demon had said. He wept in the crushing darkness, pleading for Leendonn in a small voice. He wanted his friend to hold him in arms, to hold his hand as they walked down on the road.

Quiet just wanted his friend.

Zaboul drew closer to his heap of rubble, slowly picking up on the scent of angelic blood.

At least Leendonn was safe, Quiet thought weakly. Safely far away from this monster. He struggled to keep his eyes open, even though a titanic need to just sleep overwhelmed him. Zaboul turned towards him, now certain of his spot. Quiet let out one last mournful keen, knowing it was the last sound he would ever make.

His voice, however, was drowned out by the racket of a blinding glare, erupting from a shield. It filled the air around them, with such power that it sent a smaller shockwave forth. The wave cleared some of the clutter from Quiet's prison, giving him somewhat better vision but still keeping him hidden. Zaboul snorted in surprise, and turned around, looking behind him.

- Do I have your attention now, filthy demon?!

Quiet's eyes grew wide, the crushing sleepiness evaporating from him. It was the huumann with the long blond hair, wicked weapons and mad eyes. She stood there, tall and proud, eyes kept on the huge demon before her. Next to her, stood an odd person that had nothing to do on the battlefield: he was clearly old, wrinkled and thin, he looked like a small breeze could drag him away. He wore a leather cap that emphasized his large ears sticking out to the side, mostly brown simple clothes and loose wide pants. Three enormous traveling bags were strapped around his waist, with multiple pockets each, some overflowing with jewels. His eyes were completely purple, with no irises or pupils.

The two humans stood far away, yet Quiet could pick up their aura faintly with his dwindling senses. The old fragile one radiated hunger, greed and jealousy, giving off the vibe that literally nothing was ever enough for him. The blond-haired huumann had the same malevolent air around her, like back on that big wooden thing, setting off all kinds of alarms in Quiet's mind. The angel knew he had to get away from here, but his body was simply too weak to move and crawl out from under the rubble.

- You – Zaboul snarled, turning fully to the sudden guests.

- You don't make yourself hard to find, do you? – Blondie said mockingly. – The proud Lord of Wrath is above hiding, isn't he?!

- You came here to die, mortal! I would not waste my breath upon words.

- On the contrary – Blondie shrugged, her aura expanding a bit. – I came to offer you a deal.

There was a brief but heavy pause. Quiet didn't even dare to breathe at that point. He didn't exactly understand what was going on, but he got the distinct feeling that this scene before him should have been playing out in a radically different way than mere friendly chit-chat.

- What manner of joke is this?! – Zaboul spat foam onto the ground. – The Hero of Sanctuary making deals with my kind?! Do you take me for a fool?!

- My friend, she had persuaded me just fine – spoke up the old huumann with a strange voice that often distorted on its own. – Is the words of the God of Desire proof enough for you?

- Bah, some gods you and your misbegotten kind are! – Zaboul snorted. – Cheap imitations, created by a mistake!

- Now, that is just rude, my friend.

- Enough, the both of you – Blondie barked angrily, flashing out her teeth that were fangs for a brief second. – Zaboul, Lord of Wrath, Sin Lieutenant of Azmodan, I have an offer for you. Leave this worthless nest of humans, and join my side. You will find far more glory and destruction that way than with your little side project.

- And why should I listen to a mere human?!

- Because this "mere human" promises a chance of the greatest war, with the greatest reward in the end – Blondie smiled, in a very wide and disturbing way. – By the end, none shall—

Zaboul spat a fireball at them that was absorbed by a force field shimmering into existence.

- You have interrupted my hunt, mortal! You dare speak to me with that tone and you believe I will listen to a single wretched word your worthless mouth utters?! – he bellowed. – You have come to your death, and you shall have it!

- Hunt for whom? – the old huumann frowned, but Zaboul was already on the move, pouncing at them with deadly force.

The two huumanns scattered, and the blond-haired one wiped out her burning flail, racking the demon's side with it. The hardened skin actually crumbled under her strike. Zaboul turned around rammed his head into her wide shield with such incredible force their surroundings rattled around them. The blond-haired huumann didn't even budge an inch at the collision. She flung one hand a burning hammer appeared, flying around her in circles. It battered Zaboul with hits and at its final, longest lap, it flew straight into Quiet's prison, exploding and sending the angel flying through the wall again.

Quiet rolled over the ground, too stunned to move. He was blissfully behind the cover of a small building so none could spot him right away. He heard the sound of battle from beyond the ruins. Zaboul was losing, and badly at that, if his roars of pain were anything to go by.

Mustering his last slivers of will, Quiet pushed himself up from the ground. He had to get away. Far away. Find Leendonn. That was all that mattered. Find him, stay with him.

With every inch of his body protesting with pain, Quiet dragged himself away from the battle, beaten, broken, and terribly afraid.


If there is one thing we have learnt about Inarius, is that he is fucking IMPOSSIBLE to kill. He can be beaten, defeated, banished to the deepest pits of Hell, tortured for eons, but never actually killed. Especially now that- Well, you'll see. ;)

Diablo would be proud of him.

Congrats to Miss Gems for figuring out the demon's identity so fast! :D You rock, girl! For those, who don't know who Zaboul is, I can't even fault you for that. He only ever appears in a single goddamn Item Description of the Burst of Wrath legendary weapon.

"Zaboul, the Lord of Wrath, forged this weapon after the Prime Evils declared they would not invade the world of Sanctuary. A thousand demons died in the process." - That's all, folks! Everything else you see in this story is my addition.

I'd like to thank the tracks "Boss Battle", "Final Breath" and "Funeral Dirge" from the OST of Child of Light for this chapter. I can highly recommend listening to it on YT, even if you don't play with the game.

Small trivia: originally I have wanted Quiet to win that fight. But then I thankfully stopped, thought for a moment, and stumbled upon the very simple question of "Why the HELL would that toddler be winning against a demon warlord?!". See, cupcakes, it is good to sometimes stop the hype wagon and think things through.

See you hopefully soon here, with the final chapter of the first Act! ;) Keep being awesome!

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PaulM: My man, good to have you back on board! I missed you! ^^ Don't worry, life's more important than a silly fanfic online. Hope everything's fine back at your place. Glad you still like my story! Fear not, this story shall forge on, even if with smaller-bigger pauses at times.