Chapter 18 Awake to Justice: Battle of Brethren
Flying with impossible velocity, Sparda attempted to reach the gate as quickly as possible, before news of his treachery prevented escape entirely. Marlene and her mother clung tightly to his arms as he picked up speed. As he neared yet another clan territory, the vast lands of the seven Hell Jailers, he slowed knowing he would have to battle yet again. However, as he approached, he noticed that it was eerily quiet, far too quiet for the Underworld; there was rarely a moment where the wailing of human souls and the sounds of battle could not be heard. Out of the immense territory, not even one Jailer could be found in plain sight. Not even the glowing eyes of the varieties of demonic fauna, for that matter, could be seen discerned. The lands were completely vacant. How strange, Sparda thought as he passed, then he remembered Mundus' plans for one final assault on the human world. He must have mobilized them already…
As he flew over the land of the Hell Jailers, Sparda came upon a new territory, one that had not yet yielded to Mundus' dominion. As he entered the territory, he did not know what to expect, but as he passed over he noticed hundreds of demon corpses littering the valley. There was a confluence of all kinds of demons, all normally hostile to each other but now united by one reality under Mundus' reign: They had either opposed Mundus during the Battle of Argosax or had chosen not to fight at all, and for this they had been exiled. Some demons had clearly been brutalized, having been toyed with before their slow, agonizing deaths, while others were killed with the skill and precision of an assassin. Who could have done this?--
"Well, well, look who it is…Mundus' dog of war is off his leash."
The familiar voice startled Sparda, and he stopped immediately to look around but could not see a face to match it with.
"How presumptuous of me, I should have known that a mongrel such as you would not be able to perceive in the higher dimensions. Let me help you."
Suddenly, four demons manifested before Sparda, the leader of which appeared to belong to the same clan as him. "Azrael," Sparda cursed under his breath, as he slowly backed away to a safer distance for Marlene and her mother. Three other demons stood behind Azrael, two of which flanked him. The one on the right appeared somewhat like a very brutal, anthropomorphic dragon wielding a huge weapon, whose skin seemed to surge and smolder like magma. The demon on the left, which appeared to be unarmed, was covered in jet black chitin lined by translucent, veined wings and had, apparently, multiple compound eyes surrounding powerful mandibles. It stood still, unblinking, with a noble pride that evoked something of the Lord of Flies. The overall effect was that of a fusion of a scorpionfly, weta, and cockroach into a ruthlessly efficient killing machine. The last one, which stood a little distance behind, apparently more interested in the corpses than Sparda, was visceral and hairy, perhaps best described as a reptilian wolf.
"Did you expect to find some lesser devil in these unconquered lands? This is my domain, after all."
"You are responsible for all of this?" Sparda asked, motioning to the massacre below.
"Well, I cannot take credit for all of it. My associates here may have had a hand in it..." Azrael looked back and smirked at the other two demons as they grinned wickedly.
Sparda glanced back down at the corpses, "Mundus' orders were for you to unite these lands under his rule, not to kill the demons he had not yet influenced."
"Obviously, your sanctimony has blinded you to the irony of the situation," Azrael said, gesturing at the humans in Sparda's arms. "Did Mundus order you to escort human prisoners from the Black Pit without authorization? To destroy his Frosts? Perhaps you were acting on his orders when you attacked the Shadow clan…or when you killed a Reaper."
How does he know? Word cannot have spread that fast…Sparda thinks to himself
"Oh yes, I know, about this and many other things. Sparda, there is so much you do not know, and so much you never will." Azrael sneered at this statement, as if deriving great satisfaction from it.
"You are correct, Mundus gave me orders to conquer these lands, but he did not see it fit limit my methods. That lack of oversight on his part will be his downfall; my influence is all that has spread across the unconquered lands and as soon as Mundus launches his final attack on the human world, the throne will fall to its rightful heir."
"And you are that heir, I assume?" Sparda quipped sarcastically.
"Is there anyone else more worthy? You see, Sparda, it is not in our nature to follow others; we do what we will for its own sake even in spite of great consequences. Our clan was never subservient to anyone before Mundus, and it is precisely this submission that led to their ruin.[1] Our clan, from Hell's birth, was meant to be the true ruler of the Underworld. I know that you are acquainted with this desire, the will to power above all else. If I am not mistaken, this is what drove you to defy Argosax, and certainly now drives you to betray Mundus. Search your feelings, you know it to be true."
"Someone like you, Azrael, would never understand my reasons for betraying Mundus."
"Oh no? Do you see those demons down there? I enjoyed every moment of it. Are you so ascetic that you would deny that your actions are not motivated by this very same enjoyment? The twisted and cruel desire to exert one's power over others in spite of—no, because of the pain that it will bring to them. Why else would you feel the need to kill so many humans and then turn on your own brethren? Because humans are too weak to satisfy you, brother."
"Well, you seem to have me all figured out. You may have spent too much time in the exiled lands, Azrael, you are beginning to sound like a Nobody. Perhaps consider a visit to Nevan or one of her coven to calm your nerves. That is, unless you are too weak to satisfy them, 'brother.'" Sparda prepared to fly away but was halted by Azrael, clearly incensed by the insinuation.
"Ah, yes, that exquisite plebeian wit. I do not know how I could have lived without it for so long," Azrael replied acerbically to through the gritted teeth of a forced grin. "I do not recall granting you leave of my domain, however; I do not take trespassing lightly. Incidentally, where exactly are you taking these humans?"
"That's none of your concern."
"Oh, but it is, because unless you are authorized, I'm going to have to kill them. This is Mundus' land; we must obey his wishes…." Azrael said sarcastically. His two comrades laughed quietly at the sound of this and started to become restless.
"Look, Azrael, this does not concern you. Now, let me pass or…there will be consequences." Sparda had started to become anxious. He knew that each passing second was now precious, that Mundus would soon catch wind of his actions, and when that happened, the fate of the humans would be the least of his problems.
"Consequences!? I must be mistaken, but I thought you just threatened me with 'consequences!!' Surely, you were referring to yourself!!" Azrael was almost hysterical with feigned laughter.
"I do not have time for your games." Sparda was not unfamiliar with Azrael's tactics. He knew Azrael well; he knew that he loved to taunt and provoke his opponents, and get under their skin so as to break their spirit, as well as their body. Sparda also knew that Azrael would love nothing more than to beat him to a pulp right now, or indeed, anytime. Now that he was no longer under Mundus' protection, Sparda knew that his day was about to get much worse. I do not have time for this, Sparda kept thinking. "I will not fight you, Azrael."
"Oh, you will fight me, and you will fall before me today."
Sparda went over the situation in his mind: Azrael was an incredibly powerful devil. Coming from the same clan, he shared a lot of the same abilities with Sparda plus his own unique talents gained from millennia of training and research. He wielded a deadly scythe bearing his own name that could transform just like Sparda's sword. He had a pair of monstrous black angelic wings, under which were two pairs of razor-sharp chiropteran wings. And finally, he had incredibly powerful ram-like horns that he was not afraid to use.
And Azrael was just the tip of the iceberg. His two comrades, though not as powerful as him, were just as fierce; one could outsmart most opponents with vicious precision and stealth and the other was able to overpower most demons in sheer physical prowess. Even though Sparda was only outnumbered three-to-one, the skill and abilities of these three elite demons were much greater than the hordes of lesser demons. On top of that, he had to protect not only himself but also the humans, and that would severely cripple him in battle. The particulars of the situation did not bode well for Sparda.
"Alright, Azrael, I will give you your fight. But there is something I must do first," Sparda said, looking down at Marlene and her mother. "I will give you your fight after I do what I have to do."
"That sounds fair. I am not altogether unreasonable, after all. You may proceed," Azrael said, mocking a bow.
Sparda began to fly past Azrael and his gaze came upon his two comrades. Fortunately, I will never have to see these scum again, he thought.
"There is just one issue however….." Azrael said. Sparda did not even have time to react; Azrael was much faster than most demons. Before Sparda could evade him, Azrael had snatched Marlene's mother from Sparda's grasp.
"Mommy!" screamed Marlene.
"What do you think you're doing, Azrael?" Sparda said, trying to remain calm despite the pressure building within him.
"Well…." Suddenly, Azrael pushed the mother forward and she began to fall. As Sparda went to catch her, Azrael swung his enormous scythe in a circular motion and planted it through her back, causing blood and phlegm to burst from her mouth. Apparently, he had not wanted to kill her instantly, as she writhed and gurgled incoherently, impaled on his blade.
"Mommy! No!" Marlene cried, tears streaming down her face.
Azrael held the mother up with his scythe to look at her face. He appeared to study her labored attempts to hold on to life as her face contorted spastically at the pain and fear. Then, and this was the moment that drove Sparda over the edge, he smiled. As she continued to dangle from his scythe, Azrael summarily swung it around to the edge of a cliff, and slid her body off with his cloven hoof. Her soon-to-be lifeless body plummeted down the rocky outcrops accentuated by a series of disjointed grunts, and then an empty thud as she landed among the corpses of the demons. Azrael turned towards Sparda and grinned. "So, how does your schedule look now? Or do you need more motivation?"
Something within Sparda looked out into the eyes of Azrael. In a certain sense, he felt freer, finally unbridled, unrestrained; with an opponent such as Azrael, Sparda would not need to hold back any longer for fear of hurting the humans. He looked back down at Marlene, who was still crying uncontrollably, and it angered him beyond belief. "You sicken me, Azrael." Sparda placed Marlene on a hanging offshoot and looked into her eyes, "Do not cry. This will be over soon" Sparda then took out the little red ball which he had kept clamped to his hip and placed it in her hands.
Sparda turned back, flew towards Azrael and took out his sword. He came five feet way from him and stopped. "You will pay for what you have done."
"That is more like it!" Azrael exclaimed amusedly, turning his scythe into a gigantic halberd. Suddenly, his two comrades came to his side to join him. Azrael shot them a livid glare, "No! You two stay back. This is my fight. If either of you dare to interfere, make no mistake, you will pray that you had been granted the putrefying ecstasy of the carrion below. Besides…you two shall be witness to the fall of the great and mighty Sparda before my power."
"But sire, I –"
"Hold your tongue, worm! Lest it be lost to you..." His two comrades then fell back quietly and visibly perturbed, following their leaders orders. Sparda had not said another word, but had remained steadfast and prepared before them. Azrael turned back to him, with face marred by serrated smile, as his weapon became a long sword. "I have been waiting for this moment for millennia."
Then, without warning, Azrael and Sparda charged towards each other. The collision created a shockwave and flash that caused hurricane-like winds to blast through the lands for a brief moment.
"Tell me, Sparda, how does it feel to know that your end is near?"
"You tell me, Azrael." Their weapons were moving at light speed, as each parried the others advances away perfectly. They deflected each other back with great force, each using their wings to counter their momentum in mid air. Azrael then snapped his huge black wings around his body, and charged at Sparda. Sparda shot his wings out to brace himself for the impact. When he drew close enough, Azrael opened up his wings, sending a cloud of razor-sharp feathers at Sparda, and held out his weapon, now in scythe form. Sparda turned his sword into a voulge and spun it around vertically, blocking all the debris.
The two warriors collided again, trading blows, going back and forth at an incredible pace. Azrael threw a diversionary kick at Sparda's abdomen which was blocked, but as Sparda blocked the kick, Azrael came in head first, ramming his rigid horns against Sparda's head. The blow stunned him for a bit as he fell back.
"Weakling! You could never handle a challenge head-on!" Azrael taunted as he went in for another attack. Both their weapons converged in sword form and it was now a test of strength and will. Azrael grinned as he looked into Sparda's eyes, "I could never follow you in that regard."
They pushed each other back once again, neither one able to best the other. "What are you talking about?" Sparda inquired.
"You and your 'Rebellious' army. How pathetic! You know, I observed you from a distance……as you trained, gathered your strength, and collected your followers…." As he spoke, the battle continued, still neither one was gaining much ground. "But I saw what you could do. You are nothing! You cowered in the ranks of Mundus' endeavor, just as you cower before him now. True power is not found with others; others will pass away before you. The only true power lies in solitude, within the one alone. Thus, I could never follow you. I chose not to join your so-called 'army,' which was doomed to fail from the start. It is only because of Mundus that Argosax did not have your head. How sickening…"
"You are truly deluded."
"You do not deserve what you have. With all of our power, we could overthrow Mundus, but you do nothing but grovel at his feet. You are disgrace to the clan!" Azrael spread his wings out once more, revealing his deadly bat wings, "All that is yours is rightfully mine! And mine, it will be!"
Suddenly, they were fighting even faster than before and the battle became more intense. As Sparda, transformed his sword into a voulge, Azrael transformed his scythe into a halberd. As Sparda changed his voulge into a sword, Azrael changed his halberd into a sword. The two went back and forth without stopping, matching each others defense.
Sparda then began to think about the gravity of the challenge that lay ahead of him after Azrael. His mind was suddenly not focused on the fight in front of him. The thought allowed for just the opening Azrael had been waiting for. He kicked Sparda hard in the abdomen and slashed him across the chest with his scythe. The wound healed almost instantly, but Sparda was slightly taken aback.
"Is this all the 'mighty Sparda' has to offer? This will be your burial ground, weakling!"
With that, Azrael drew his scythe back and it began to crackle with azure and black electricity as a blade of energy extended beyond. "Mundus mortis est, ab caelo et ad inferos."[2] In a flash, the scythe was hurtling towards Sparda, maneuvering wildly as if the sword itself was alive. Sparda dodged the first pass by a hair's breadth, but the scythe curved in mid-air to come around again. This time Sparda knew that he would not be so lucky, so he shot towards the sky as the rotating blade turned on a dime in pursuit.
Sparda flew as fast as he could, and tried every aerial evasion he knew, but all to no avail; the scythe seemed to be tethered to him by some invisible thread, something which gave Sparda an idea. Without warning, he made a beeline directly for Azrael, hoping that he would fall prey to his own stratagem. However, as he approached, Azrael appeared to be smirking, as if he had anticipated this.
To Sparda's surprise, and with a flick of Azrael's wrist, the scythe froze in mid-air and then resumed a course towards Sparda. With his control of the blade and my evasion, this could go on forever. Let's see how the puppetmaster fares without his strings…Sparda's sword began to pulse with red energy, and in one swift motion, he spun in the air and launched it at Azrael. The move seemed to catch him off-guard, as the scythe wavered just slightly in its flight. And that was all Sparda needed; he suddenly halted, hovering for just a split second, before he teleported above the scythe and snatched it right out of the air.
As Sparda's own sword came closer and closer to Azrael, he made no attempt to dodge it. Then, just before the red energy blade made contact, he reached up with impossible precision and caught the edge in his hand. "Were you expecting me to evade? With your clumsy grasp of that technique, I was beginning to wonder if your sword would ever reach me." He repositioned the sword in his hand and began to shift through the forms at will. "Hmm, you have not even begun to realize the potential of this weapon...Allow me to educate you in its proper use!"
They hovered within a deep valley, exhausted from the stalemate, each holding the other's weapon. "You do not seem to be the expert you would have us believe, Azrael. Give it up, you are no warrior; I have always been able to adapt to any combat form, while you have not," Sparda entreated him. "And what do you know, Sparda? The true power lies not within the warrior, but his weapon." As he spoke, Azrael's scythe was engulfed in a blue flame that begun to travel up Sparda's arm, as the weapon struggled to break free. "You see, even the mightiest warrior is only as powerful as their blade. The weapon and the wielder are connected by a bond deeper than the soul; only those that penetrate this bond can unlock the true power of the devil."[3] Now, the flame had spread almost over Sparda's entire body, and the scythe was thrashing wildly, responding to Azrael's unbidden summons.
Azrael turned his attention to the sword in his hand, and fixed his gaze on the red gem surmounted by the profane sarcoma of the blade. "When this bond is broken, Sparda, you will not have to worry about Mundus conquering the human world; you can be assured that I will reduce it to dust and ashes, with this very sword no less. I will experience power that you did not even know you had, and know you better than you know yourself. Every human you have tried to protect will be delivered to me by your own hand—"
Then, something changed. As the flame threatened to envelop Sparda's head completely, the weapon in his hand ceased to stir. Azrael was no longer basking in his own arrogance, but seemed to be entranced in some inconceivable horror gleaming out of the Sparda's gem. A single, hollow word escaped Sparda's mouth: "No." His eyes blazed as the azure flame contracted into a bright singularity and dissolved into his chest. At that moment, a crimson conflagration erupted from the Sparda's gem, launching Azrael against the wall of the valley and creating a huge cloud of fire.
The sword spun its way back towards Sparda, positioning itself to the level of his hand. Almost before it even made contact, Sparda shot towards Azrael, leaving a sonic boom and a trail of indigo and crimson phosphors behind him. He cycled through the forms of both swords until they were voulges. Before the smoke had cleared, Sparda had stingered Azrael to the wall with both swords. The whole scene had looked and felt like a violet comet had entered the atmosphere and collided with the mountain below; a shockwave was sent across the battlefield, rustling the corpses of the slain warriors, and giving even Azrael's comrades reason to brace themselves.
As Sparda let his guard down, he saw Azrael's presumably unconscious body stir. Two dark blades with an appearance that could only be described as solid smoke protruded from Azrael's forearms. Before he knew what was happening, Azrael had slashed his eyes in a cross motion, leaving Sparda temporarily blind. As Azrael teleported away, he left a trail of dark wisps behind him. Sparda could see him take up an offensive position, with both blades in an X formation and electricity surging through his arms. A ball of dark energy began to form at the intersection of the blades, and Sparda braced himself for the impact. Then, at the last moment, Azrael shifted just a few inches and launched the projectile past Sparda and towards Marlene.
Even with his vision still impaired, Sparda knew what had happened. As the trail of darkness silently flew towards Marlene, Sparda disappeared in a flash of speed. He reappeared blurrily in front of Marlene only a split second before the ball made contact. And then, it did. The explosion was totally soundless, and as the darkness billowed and eroded the air around it, Sparda's hooves were driven into the ground. The darkness began to disperse, and Sparda looked around to ascertain Azrael's position. Where is he? Not even he could move that fast…this is not good—He was cut off as a dark scythe whizzed past his head, leaving a trail behind it.
"Hmm, looking for someone?" To his horror, Sparda realized that the billowing cloud of darkness had formed into a multitude of Azrael clones, each brandishing multiple variations of his scythe. "And to think that you could have avoided this situation if not for your foolish attachment to that human larva." They all launched their scythes and swords into the air, creating a dome of spinning blades that surrounded Sparda and Marlene. "Si quæris ineluctabilitas mortis, circumspice."[3] The first clone blasted towards them and grabbed his scythe for an attack. No sooner than had Sparda deflected it with his sword, two more clones flanked him. Sparda blocked, changed both weapons into scythes and sliced the clones in half. They turned into four clones, each with their own set of weapons. Soon enough, there were three, five, seven clones attacking Sparda all at once with their shadow blades.
When Sparda begun to think that he could at least support a stalemate by blocking every attack, Azrael himself appeared behind him. He launched forward, grabbed two shadow scythes out of the air, and performed an upward and downward slash simultaneously at Sparda's back. By the time Sparda had turned around, Azrael was above him with three scythes, slashing him thrice and leaving him at a loss to keep up. With each passing slash, Azrael's weapon assumed more solidity and power, and Sparda was worn down further and further. When it came to the last attack, Sparda was in a daze and Azrael's blade was almost as solid as the one that Sparda was holding. With a surge of power, Azrael launched Sparda into the mountain-side, driving him deep into the rock and earth.
Azrael called his true weapon back to his side, and it responded in kind. The edge of the blade began to blaze with a phosphorescent ultraviolet, creating a vacuum in the air around it. As Azrael came down for the fatal blow, with his scythe tearing at the dimensional barrier itself, Sparda remembered Marlene and remembered that he could not leave her.
Just as the blade was about to penetrate his chest, Sparda blocked it with his sword. "No, Azrael, it will not end here." Suddenly, Sparda bolted at Azrael and rammed the hilt of his sword into his chest. Azrael didn't even have a chance to think about another attack before Sparda was slicing him all over. The multiple lacerations on Azrael's body healed and he gritted his teeth in anger. "This is not possible!!! How could scum such as you defy me!?!" Azrael charged with scythe held high, but was suddenly caught off guard as Sparda teleported behind him and slashed again. Azrael turned around to face Sparda but he had teleported once more, this time above him, and kicked him in the face.
"What is the matter Azrael, are you looking for someone?"
"You are nothing but spittle!! You do not deserve life!!!" Azrael charged once more but this time, Sparda deflected his weapon completely with his bare hand. Now weaponless, a flurry of close range attacks befell him as Sparda punched and kicked him quickly and precisely. Sparda began to punch Azrael in his chest and face, with light speed, and with a final overhand haymaker, sent Azrael flying backwards. And as he flew backward, Sparda charged once more with his right hand held back, clinched in a fist. He then gave Azrael a devastating spinning uppercut, sending him further upward. And as he went up, Sparda rose above him and extended his right leg, executing a series of cascading sommersaults, blasting Azrael in the chest with a sharp kick, and for one final attack, Sparda charged up his right fist and shot out a flaming red projectile that sent Azrael collapsing to the ground.
In immense pain, Azrael's wounds began healing very slowly this time but the shame and seething hatred that he felt inside was all that concerned him. He looked up at Sparda with disgust and desperate fury and Sparda simply looked down at him in pity. He knew he had been defeated and he knew there was now nothing he could do about it.
Sparda waited for Azrael to regain his composure and attack him, but came to realize that Azrael had accepted his defeat. This brought a sudden calm over Sparda, as he knew that it would take much more effort to actually kill him and he could not risk such a battle with Marlene nearby. He then flew back over to Marlene and picked her up in one arm. "I'm going to take you home now," he said as his gaze remained on Azrael. "I told you that you would pay, Azrael, but fortunately for you, I must protect this human. Count yourself lucky that your life was spared, and your honor stolen, by this 'human larva.'"
Sparda began to fly away as one of Azrael's comrades prepared to go after him. But before he could take off, he was halted by Azrael's voice, "No! Let him be."
"But sire, we can still catch him. Surely, he could not defeat us all."
But Azrael now knew better. He had just experienced something in Sparda he had never seen, and he was ashamed to admit that it terrified him to the core of his being. He knew that Sparda would probably be able to defeat them all, despite their millennia of training and learning, and it drove him mad. "No, let him go. Mundus will reap what he has sown. Let him deal with Sparda now. In either case, the throne will be mine…"
Azrael glared at Sparda until he disappeared from view, and only one thought ran through his mind: This is not over, Sparda, this is NOT over…..
[1] This apparently refers to an account in a text which has yet to be restored. From the notes of "Didymus," it is indicated that Mundus had a hand in the genocide of the clan to which both Sparda and Azrael belong. From the context above, it is apparent that Azrael believes that Sparda was indirectly responsible for this occurrence. The inclusion of such an account in the original manuscript may have been a condemnation of genocidal tactics of conquerors at the time, such as Ivanos Drazgov. ~Ed.
[2] "The world is death's, from the vault of heaven, to the underworld." In some editions, "Ad mortem perpetuam in extremis mundi," or "Mors magna, quattuor cornu Mundi circumscribe." It is clear from the usage here and below, that whoever the true author of the manuscript was, he had very little linguistic expertise. ~Ed.
[3] In the notes on the original manuscript, there follows a short and obscure "magickal" operation which makes copious use of the ephesia grammata. The segments that are able to be translated are mainly apotropaic and protective incantations, presumably with respect to whatever process which "Azrael" implies at this point in the manuscript. The only other intelligible phrase in the operation is "Shevarit ha-Kelim." It is this editor's opinion that the process being referred is one of alchemical or qabalistic origin. ~Ed.
[4] "If you seek the inevitability of death, look all about you." In some editions, "Omnes vulnerant, ultima necat," or "Si quæris monumentum ineluctabilitatis mortis, respice finem." ~Ed.