GATE: the clash of the titans V2

by Qun Nguyn1

Mostly AUs. A Gate has opened in Tokyo by a Roman-esque Empire, familiar scenario with familiar faces but the people marched through the Gate is from a vastly more powerful magic world. The stage is set. Earth Alliance vs The Holy Empire. Science vs Magic. The power of the thousand sun vs The Beast of the Apocalypse. Let the clash of Titans begin. Let the worlds have War.

27. Chapter 28: The Silence Before Dawn

Chapter 28: The Silence Before Dawn

Note: Eddie199. Well, they in Hell already so maybe burn in heaven!?

---

Minith Academy, New Miraculum, Falmart's Moon Oisin, 2069

"Rule of the mob, tyranny of the majority. It would be as much a mistake to take at face value these disparagements of democracy as it would be to accept uncritically the claim that democracy is the most virtuous and just form of governance."

The time, early afternoon shortly after lunch. The place, not a public rally, but the senior civics class at Minith Academy. And the speaker was not some politician, but Aulus Drusus Egnatius, a retired knight from the Rose Order of Knights that was an old family friend of the Lelena Family.

Indeed Emily La Coda, daughter of the Great Sage Arpeggio El Lelena and Count Flat El Coda, who seated at the front, had known the man as Uncle Aucus long before he became Mr. Egnatius in a classroom.

"Every form of governance can be said to have advantages and disadvantages," Mr. Egnatius continued, "but one must be mindful of the assumptions and preconditions that these advantages are contingent upon. And we must never, ever forget the associated cost." The stump of his left wrist fell upon a student's shoulder. "Emily. What is the purpose of government?"

"To ensure that the upkeep necessary to maintain society is properly performed," Emily answered without missing a beat, "and to see to the needs of the people within that society."

"Correct," Mr. Egnatius said, which the answer was, at least as far as Darwinian educational doctrine was concerned. "And Cole, what are those needs?"

"The capacity of the people to acquire food, water, and shelter," Cole said, "and the means by which they can improve their lot."

"Adequately stated," Mr. Egnatius said. "Now, democratic processes utilize a vote, usually that of a simple majority, to arrive at decisions, whether it be policy or selecting whom to hold various public offices.

In the case of those offices, most genuine democracies, ones were the votes aren't outright rigged in the first place, tend to have few if any restrictions on candidacy, aside from citizenship in the respective nation-state, of course.

The most common restriction tends to be that of age, since for some reason or another people seem to think the older you are the wiser you might be."

A few muffled chuckles sounded at that bit.

"Otherwise, public opinion is the sole qualifier or disqualifier of a candidacy," the teacher continued. "Tell me, Sophie, what sort of problem might arise as a consequence?"

"Well, the candidate that wins might not actually be the most qualified," Sophie responded. "He or she just needs to be more popular than the others."

"Quite so. Put that way, democracy seems to not do a very good job of making sure the people in government are actually capable of doing their jobs, no? Then again, that little problem's hardly unique to democracy, seeing as otherwise none of you would need to take this class."

More chuckles there, the students recognizing both the humor and the truth in the statement. The civics class was something all students at royally sanctioned academies needed to take for every year of secondary, from freshmen to senior.

Furthermore, scions of a noble house, no matter how minor and what order of precedence they might be in, were required to pass every year with a moderately high score to qualify for inheritance. And the grades in these courses were not gimmies, with topics covered ranging from modern magecraft, political theory to history to philosophy and logic.

The Empire and the Church had learnt its lesson from the Civil War era, and really did not want another generation of nobles or clerics that lacked critical thinking skills. And if it could beat some of those skills into the commoner citizenry that also attended preparatory schools like Minith, then all the better.

"Now that we have identified a problem, let us see if a solution might not be devised," Mr. Egnatius said. "Eugene. How might a democratic electorate be prevented from choosing candidates that would then fail to uphold the common societal good?"

"You could require the candidates they vote for hold proper qualifications, like university degrees," the student answered.

"Certainly an option. After all, peers of the realm in the Holy Empire are expected to successfully complete tertiary education before inheriting their titles. No reason why democratic societies should accept a lower standard for their officeholders. But what about referendums instead of elections, where what is at stake is a choice of policy instead of a person? Naomi?"

"You'd need the voters themselves to be well-informed," Naomi stated. "So maybe it should be the voters that need to hold qualifications, like degrees."

"Still, setting aside the tribulations of the teachers, can anyone here see anything wrong with Naomi's suggestion?"

A few students slowly shook their heads, while others continued pondering. Seeing no one able to formulate an answer, Mr. Egnatius adjusted how he approached the issue.

"Emily. How much is the annual tuition for attending Minith Academy?"

At face value, it might have seemed odd to ask the one person that arguably did not need to pay tuition what the amount was. Then again, of the students present, Emily probably was the most likely to actually know what the amount was, since her mother was the headmaster.

"Forty thousand Suwani, give or take," the girl answered.

Though granted, the exact amount might still elude her. She was also including the sum for those boarding at the academy.

"Forty thousand Suwani," Mr. Egnatius repeated. "Quite a bit of money, no? Let's assume that, for argument's sake, forty thousand Suwani per student is the amount necessary to provide an education of the caliber here at Minith . How many people in the Empire would be capable of affording that kind of tuition?"

A fairly small proportion, everyone here knew. There were noble houses that would not have the financial leeway to send their children to an institution like Minith, and while there were certainly some very wealthy commoners, the vast majority of the Empire's subjects were possessed of much, much more limited financial means.

"Let us further assume," Mr. Egnatius continued, "that the quality of an education is proportionate to the amount of money invested in it. How much education is necessary before a prospective voter should be considered well-informed? How much money is available in the society as a whole to fund mass education for the entire electorate?"

By now the students could see where their teacher was going. An educational qualification was ultimately only as good as the quality of that education, and providing a quality education could get very, very expensive very quickly. If a well-functioning democracy required well educated voters, then the society that practiced it would have to both be extremely wealthy and be willing to dedicate substantial portions of that wealth to education.

"The cost is quite clearly great," Mr. Egnatius stated, "but let us consider the rewards that are reaped. Any society that is able to provide a large proportion of its populace with such quality education will also in effect create a highly capable workforce, able to solve all sorts of challenging problems.

Such a workforce would then translate into a more productive, and thus wealthier, economy. In such a way, the sustainment of democracy is a self-perpetuating cycle.

Wealth is needed to ensure the democratic process does not break down, but the wealth spent to that end also serves to help generate further wealth. Sounds a bit too good to be true, eh?"

It certainly did. All of the students waited to see just what sort of catch Mr. Egnatius was leading up to.

"If one looked at a purely self-contained society, then arguably democracy is possessed of great merits, once it's up and running at least. And let us set aside the vagaries of man irrationality, since no solution exists to remedy that yet.

The issue however is that on the whole, no society is so privileged as to be entirely self-contained. Whether it be lacking a domestic supply of certain resources, physical proximity to others, or dependency on external markets, there will always be outside factors or pressures upon a society.

And sometimes dealing with these external forces requires a diversion of resources that could otherwise go to maintaining the social conditions democracy requires to function. If the diversion becomes great enough and lasts long enough, then an inevitable deterioration in the quality of the democratic outcome will occur.

Further, the previous boons that came from the heavy investment in education will also slowly be lost, creating a negative feedback cycle wherein a society will only be able to restore its prior prosperity at great cost, in wealth and all too likely also in blood."

After the class spent a moment or so digesting the lecture, a hand rose.

"Yes, Betsy?"

"If the society is on some downward spiral, how would it ever marshal the resources needed to arrest its decline and recover?" the student asked.

"In the case of the Empire, the answer to that is usually, with an absolute dictatorship and heroes," Mr. Egnatius responded.

"After the fall of the Sadera Republic in the third millennium, it took centuries of slow and steady effort for the Empire to build back up to a point where its peoples could enjoy a standard of living matching that of citizens at the height of the Republic might. By focusing the limited resources of the Empire to a few exceptional individuals 'the heroes' and put them in the position of power while purging those who were corrupt and incompetent. We have been able to built back in a relatively short time"

Another hand reached out. "But how can we know who has potential and prevent them from being corrupted by society ?"

"Euthanasia, eugenics (genetic manipulation) and relentless training from birth (nurture)." Mr. Egnatius responded without missing a beat. "We, the Holy Empire do not leave it to fate, we take destiny to our own hands. We create our own heroes from the genetic code of the best of us and the Holy Order trains them from birth, under the guidance of wise apostles. Thanks to that, for many millennia, the Empire has had fairly talented line of ruler and administrators."

As I just said, democracy as an institution has both advantages and disadvantages," Mr. Egnatius exclaimed. "While we have gone over some of the more problematical aspects of democracy, we have yet to delve into certain intrinsic advantages. The condition of mass quality education, while an advantage, is arguably not one reliant on democracy to induce, nor does possession of a democracy guarantee the economic circumstances that make it affordable. In that regard, democracy is more the reward a successful society can claim than the means to achieving that success. And as a reward then, democracy must merit the effort and resources required to obtain it. Can anyone here suggest one such merit?"

Dead silence at that one, as the majority of the students just stared blankly back at their instructor. The few exceptions like Emily still seemed inclined to keep their mouths shut, obliging Mr. Egnatius to choose amongst them. Before he could however, the door to the classroom opened, accompanied by a firm voice.

"Democracies provide an institutionalized way of peaceably removing officeholders without having to resort to force of arms," Archduchess Pina Co Lala stated as she entered. "That is one indisputable advantage they have over almost every other form of government, including that of Darwinian duocracy."

Eyes went wide, not excepting Emily's as the class recognized just who had stepped into their classroom. To his credit, Mr. Egnatius at least managed to affect a measured reaction as he turned to face the archduchess.

"Your Highness, this is a most unexpected surprise. While your answer is entirely correct, might I ask how you came to be around to provide it?"

Pina cracked a slight smirk. "Apologies for interrupting your lecture, Mr. Egnatius. I am visiting Minith to check on the progress of the political science and literature program being trialed here, and happened to pass your classroom when I heard a most intriguing question."

Now that Pina was through the door, everyone inside could see that not only the archduchess and her attendants, but also Great Sage Arpeggio El Lelena was present. The sage exchanged a small smile with her old friend the knight, and then a more mischievous one with a stunned looking Emily. Her daughter had clearly not been informed that Pina would be dropping by today.

"If this is the caliber of instruction in Minith's civics course, I daresay it shan't be too long before the school earns full accreditation as a royal academy."

Within the Imperial educational system, schools were generally divided into three categories.

The first were the publicly funded schools that everyone could, and indeed were obliged, to attend.

The second were the private schools that received no government funding, but which still needed to meet standards set by the government, and charged tuition to the families of their students.

As one might expect, the private schools were fairly expensive, but arguably offered higher quality instruction.

That was not to say public education in the Empire was substandard, indeed the Empire invested quite a bit in ensuring a decent standard for its public schools, but there were always ways in which more money could help.

The last category were also technically private schools, but which served a more specialized role within the Empire's educational establishment.

These were the royally accredited academies, which as part of their accreditation were required to provide the obligatory civics courses that all noble heirs needed to pass to qualify for their titles.

This not surprisingly resulted in the entirety of the Darwinian nobility being alumni of these schools. Still, it was not as if the commoner proportion was small either. In addition to well-to-do families, the government made an explicit effort to offer scholarships and financial aid to especially promising students of lesser financial means to allow them to attend these academies.

The rational was arguably less about fostering diversity or the like and more to identify and nurture talent that might be of future use to the Empire, but the result was that the accredited academies ended up being a bit more inclusive than their mere private counterparts.

At the very pinnacle of these accredited schools were the formal royal academies, a status that required the school to have successfully graduated someone in the line of imperial succession. Only half a dozen academies in the entire Empire could lay claim to such an achievement.

"My thanks, Your Highness," Mr. Egnatius said. "Is this to be the extent of your observation of this class, or would you care partake further?"

"Seeing as I am here, and so long as my presence is not too intrusive, I think I would like to see where this discussion leads," Pina said, glancing over at headmaster Arpeggio.

The Minith headmaster gave a nod and made to settle down herself. When the archduchess met Emily's eyes however, the heiress stuck her tongue out in her usual display of irreverence.

For some reason that managed to puncture the budding tension in the room, as more than one student failed to suppress a chuckle at Emily's antics.

"Now, picking up from where we were," Mr. Egnatius continued. "As Her Highness so astutely noted, one of democracy's innate merits is that it provides a mechanism to remove officeholders peacefully.

The value of such a mechanism should not be underestimated, as once force of arms is resorted to, we are but one step away from escalation into an outright civil war.

And civil wars, ladies and gentlemen, constitute some of the most bitter conflicts fought by man. The few laws of war that offer some measure of protection for noncombatants, and which at least try to ensure the humane treatment even of combatants, are often ignored in such conflicts, resulting in a vicious cycle of reprisals, counter-reprisals, and general butchery that can result in the total collapse of the nation in which the war erupted."

A most emphatic condemnation of such conflicts, made all the more remarkable considering the current emperor was on the throne explicitly because he resorted to such force of arms.

And whose co-conspirator was seated in this very classroom, along with one of the peers that fought in that helped precipitate Ainsworth' coup.

For that matter, when he was a knight in Rose Order of Knights, Egnatius had himself fought at Sadera as one of Ainsworth' partisans. As such one could just as easily accuse Egnatius of hypocrisy as praise his frank honesty.

Those who were tempted by the former however would miss a most important lesson in closing their minds like so. A hand rose.

"Yes, Naomi?"

"But did not the Emperor Ainsworth take power using force?" the elven girl asked.

A tense hush settled upon the room, as the students snuck glances between their instructor, the headmaster, and the archduchess. None of the three seemed especially perturbed by the boldness of the question, indeed Mr. Egnatius even seemed pleased to be asked it.

"Indeed he did," the teacher said gravely. "Would there have been another way, we would not have needed to risk plunging Darwinia into such strife. But there was, and is, only one mechanisms by which to remove an unfit sovereign from the throne, an unanimous vote of no confidence from the 13 apostles, which is very rarely happen, other than that he must either abdicate of his own free will, or die to clear the way."

An answer that might have been, but from Naomi's grimace, hardly a satisfactory one.

"If resorting to arms carries with it such great risk, then isn't that an argument for adding in the mechanisms to make it unnecessary?"

In other words, shouldn't the Empire seriously consider adopting democratic principles? An even more daring question, even if asked implicitly. Instead of answering directly however, Mr. Egnatius began another of his circuitous, but still informative, rejoinders.

"We began this unit with a discussion of the conditions required for a functional democracy to emerge, namely a highly informed electorate capable of identifying which decisions better serve society.

We have touched upon the not trifling advantages a democratic society offers, from sowing the seeds of its own economic prosperity to ensuring a measure of stability with an institutionalized, and peaceable, succession process.

What we will cover now is the greatest weakness inherent within a democracy, that of polarized factionalism, and the manner in which democracy can amplify the effects."

And which in the minds of the Darwinian political orthodoxy, constituted such a grave threat that they would rather risk outright civil war than employ methods that, however great their utility, carried with them such deficiencies.

"The issue of factionalism is certainly not something unique to democracies. Darwinian Empire after all is rife with them, from the political parties in imperial senate to the divisions within the king court to even the various social cliques here at Minith.

Wheresoever a group of people may gather, a difference of interests will inevitably arise, and those whose interests most closely align will naturally flock together to pursue them.

There is arguably nothing wrong with such conflicts of interest, for the competition it engenders is the means by which humanity as a whole is given impetus to improve and advance.

The danger lies in when pursuance of these factional interests overtakes the collective pursuance of the common good. And democracies are vulnerable in a uniquely problematic manner to this tendency."

Mr. Egnatius scanned the class. "Can anyone, aside from Her Highness and Lady Arpeggio, postulate as to why that is the case?"

Blank stares all around, even from Emily. The Coda heiress might be one of the most astute students in the class, but she was still taking the class to learn, so naturally there would still be things beyond her knowledge.

And while the archduchess did know the answer, she had been explicitly excluded from answering. On the other hand, the attendants accompanying her were not so named.

The archduchess shot a knowing look towards Hamilton Uno Ror, and thanks to where she was seated, the attention of everyone else in the class soon followed.

"Well, Dame Hamilton," Mr. Egnatius said with a wry smile. "Might you toss the class a lifeline?"

Hamilton took but a moment to contemplate and formulate her response.

"The issue principally stems from the manner in which legitimacy is established in a democracy combined with the binary nature of voting results. Decisions put to a vote are invariably the result of opposing factions seeking to advance their own interests.

The side that wins the vote obtains the freedom to pursue their interest within the societal framework inhabited by the democracy, but aside from whatever institutional safeguards are in place, the losing side has no recourse to what amounts to, from their perspective, an imposition of circumstances they are opposed to.

No substantive incentive exists for the winning side to seek compromise or otherwise moderate their selected course of action, while the losing side is given every reason to orchestrate the downfall of the winning side come the next vote so that they in turn would be in the position of authority to impose their own preferred policies."

Hamilton's explanation might have been a bit denser than the usual verbiage Mr. Egnatius employed, but after a few moments to parse Hamilton's response, the students broadly understood what she meant. That and Mr. Egnatius was also there to expand on the main points.

"Indeed," the teacher picked up where Hamilton had left off. "We previously discussed how a functional democracy required a sufficiently educated populace. But education is not a means of ensuring conformity of thought or interests, as much as I'm sure some of the powers that be might wish otherwise."

That self-deprecating remark was enough to get the class to loosen up again and share a chuckle or two.

"To say an educated citizen is better informed about the matters relating to a vote is also to say that he or she has a greater awareness of how their own interests are impacted. In other words, to which faction the voter in question belongs to.

As such, even in a fully functional and prosperous democracy, the natural tendency is still for people to congregate in factions. As democracy on the first order seeks to extend participation in governance to as much of a society's populace as possible, the proportion of that populace that becomes divided into factions, and effectively set against each other in competition, becomes all the greater.

And because of the, as the young lady so artfully put it, binary nature of legitimacy in democratic societies, there is little room to find compromise, meaning few factions bother to either seek or offer it.

The lack of moderation that results inevitably leads to the extremis, wherein efforts to obtain legitimacy for oneself becomes an exercise to deny legitimacy to others.

And eventually this denial extends even to those that achieve that legitimacy through entirely democratic means, so long as they are of the other and not of the self, the examples for this are plenty on Earth.

In other words, a losing faction refusing to acknowledge its loss and attempting to disrupt the process by which power is peaceably transferred. Now, what sort of conflict does that sound like to all of you?"

A civil war. Roundabout as Mr. Egnatius' lecture was, he did tend to guide his students to the most pertinent lessons in the end.

Democracy, when its structures worked, worked well. But when they failed, it was no more graceful an end than that faced by any other government, including Darwinian's own.

And the magnitude of the coup that the Emperor Ainsworth kicked off was that of a potential end to the Empire as a whole, a point in a society's lifecycle at which democracy would have offered little in the way of viable alternatives.

Still, there remained as yet a few unanswered questions, such as whether democracy tended towards an end more or less quickly compared to other forms of government or whether the highly conservative, heroes worshiping and hierarchical nature of Darwinian society even allowed any form of democracy to flourish. They would have to wait however as the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

---

Secret base, 2 km under the ice, Alyesko-Siberian, Falmart, 52030

The Secretary of State of the Airforce, Élodie Valadon, a girl who seemed no older than 17 years old was a beautiful princess with brilliant blonde hair styled entirely in large coils, pale white skin reminiscent of a bisque doll, and both clothes and grace that were similarly picturesque. Being the Secretary of State of the Airforce, the 11th Princess usually wore white in public.

"Cardinal Antonio, how's your progress on the Crimson Death project?" Élodie asked impatiently, if this was a success, she could deal a great blow to the Empire enemies and become the Hero of the Empire.

Upon hearing the Princess, Antonio knelt before her in reverence. "Princess Élodie, It is my honor to have you visit this shabby abode of mine. Your Highness, the first phase of the project was a success, we are moving to the second phase. Let me show you Your Highness," The Cardinal point at a big tank of red water at the room below, "This is Hysteria. Sister Lily, please throw in some meat."

Following his orders, the nun threw a large piece of meat into the water tank. In less than a minute the meat was dissolve without a trace.

"Impressive, Your Eminence, can I see how it work ?" There was a glint of curiosity in Princess Élodie's eyes.

"It would be my honor, Your Highness." The cardinal replied.

"Your Highness, please look into this microscope." The cardinal show her the microscope.

"As you can see, Your Highness, the Hysterias are microscopic predators living in big swarms. They look like tadpoles with big teeth, but as a group they appear as a red current.

Living in the waters of the big Stingerfan-forests of Terra Australis they communicate magically and act perfectly together.

A Hysteria-Swarm is able to kill and eat almost everything, from a Mudpod to a Stingerfan, even a Gulphog, because the swarm acts like one organism.

They kill their prey by injecting them with neurotoxins and consuming the corpse.

In the cases of larger prey such as Gulphogs, they swarm up to land and bite into the prey's foot.

After consuming the prey's body and innards, the Hysteria-Swarm builds itself into a mushroom that bursts into eggs that hatch into more Hysterias.

With a little genetic enhancement, we were able to triple the growth rate of Hysteria-Swarm."

"Not bad, Your Eminence, you are as talent as the rumor." Impressed, Élodie let out a small smile. "The Empire is lucky to have you."

"Protecting the Empire is mine duty, Your Highness." He bowed respectfully.

"We are adding new features to Hysteria-Swarm in Phase 2, they will soon be adapted to all aquatic conditions and resistant to most poisons and have the ability to photosynthesize.

Once released in Earth's oceans using your bombers, their seas will become barren dead sea, devoid of all life. It will become sea of blood and the enemy will starve."

"How can we make sure these Hysteria-Swarm don't backfire on us ?" Élodie asked a valid question, a superweapon wouln't have any use if it could easily backfire on the user. That was the first rule of warfare.

"No need to worry, Your Highness. We have left a certain weakness in their genetic code that allows us to destroy them all with a special virus. We also program them to avoid a certain pheromone, which we will distribute to the troops."

"You really have thought of everything, Your Eminence. What about Phase 3 ?"

"Your Highness, in Phase 3, we plan to give them Dispersion Magic, so that they will decompose salt in seawater into gas.

As you know on Earth, on average, seawater has a salinity of about 3.5% (35 g/l, 35 ppt, 600 mM). This means that every kilogram (roughly one liter by volume) of seawater has approximately 35 grams of dissolved salts (predominantly sodium (Na+) and chloride (Cl−) ions )

By photosynthesis and Dispersion Magic these Hysteria-Swarms will cause the release of chlorine (Cl) onto the atmosphere. Once the chlorine is released, it is able to react with ozone (O3), to form chlorine monoxide (ClO) and oxygen (O2).

Cl + O3 = ClO + O2

When the molecule of chlorine monoxide (ClO) meets another molecule of oxygen (O) it breaks up, releasing chlorine (Cl), which can "destroy" another molecule of ozone (O3), creating the catalytic cycle of chlorine.

ClO + O = Cl + O2

This will cause the ozone depletion around the world, increasing cancer risks and other negative effects.

The ozone layer prevents most harmful wavelengths of ultraviolet (UV) light from passing through the Earth's atmosphere.

These wavelengths cause skin cancer, sunburn, permanent blindness, and cataracts, which were projected to increase dramatically as a result of thinning ozone, as well as harming plants and animals.

This will be our answer to the enemy nuclear weapons. If they want to bring the sun to us then we will bring their sun to them and drown their oceans in blood."

---

Rome 20 minutes after the demon attack, 5 minutes before translocation, 2030

Even before the demon attack and the massive magic dome just appeared over the Vatican city, today was not a pleasant day in Rome. Due to the heat dome phenomenon, an unfortunately very common weather phenomenal nowaday due to climate change, the Papal State was hit by a blistering heatwave with the temperature up to 50°C.

"In this dark hour, I ask for calm and introspection. Though the prognosis given to us is grim and the signs in the sky are frightening, we must remember that we are the Lord's children and that he shall keep us in his grace." Pope Paul III said to the gathered crowds before him.

"Though you may be frightened, though you may be confused, though perhaps you are questioning your faith. Remember, that the direst times bring not the worst in us, but our best. I have seen people wishing to help and care for each other. I have seen people put aside their differences and enjoy the time we have together. I have seen hands offered in friendship far more than I have seen hands raised in anger." He said, convinced that there was a light at the end.

"I know that there is fear in our hearts. But whether this be the end or not, we should face it with dignity and grace. Even if this is the end, we should strive to follow the virtues of christ in our every action. But I believe that this is not the end. I believe that the signs do not point to an apocalypse. The antichrist is not risen and the apocalypse has not arrived." He proclaimed with firmness and certainty.

"I believe that this is a sign from God almighty, to show us the path to righteousness by reminding us of His power and His Glory. We must strive not to waste this opportunity and shall take the chance to cast aside the heavy weight of sin and the shackles of wrong doing." He said with the conviction of a true believer.

"We must cast aside any belief that this is the work of the Devil who has no power to bring about such things, or of any force of darkness for that matter. This is a sign of the majesty of the Holy Light of Christ, the Spirit, and the Father who art in Heaven, make no mistake." He said, his eyes briefly looking up into the yawning fissures in the sky and the visions they brought. The image of a man made of shadow with robes of light and what seemed to be a top hat with white glowing eyes troubled him the most, but he put aside that troubling and steeled himself in the armour of faith.

"Whatever comes, we shall persevere." He said as the canyons in reality began to widen as they started the final process of devouring the reality itself.

"Stand firm and be strong. God shall keep us." Space and time would tear themselves apart shortly after as an intense tsunami of light washed over the city of Rome .

Vatican, 3 Minute after Translocation, Outskirt of Moscow, Greater Russia

The initial reaction from the faithful was confusion, panic, relief, and disarray. The world had not ended per se, but what had come after was stranger than anyone had dared imagine. It seemed that for lack of a better phrase, Vatican was no longer in Rome.

"It seems impossible, but surely this is the Lord's work." Paul mused to himself, his chin in his hand as he pondered the meaning of this sign. What did God want out of him? What could the Catholic Faith do in Christ's name?

Suddenly a man appeared in front of him, it was the same man with white glowing eyes he saw before. Look closely, Paul saw there was something divine about this man.

"Be not afraid, Holy Father. This is the divine will of the Great and Eternal Father of us All for the Holy See to be saved. I am Lenny Belardo, Patriarch of the Holy Order of the Christ Blood. The time has come for All with faith to join the Holy Crusade against the force of Darkness."

Great Hall of the Adamant Fastness, Outer Rim of Terror

Demonic laughter echoed throughout the hall, as the assembled nobles took turns forcing themselves into the human's mind. Servants scurried about with plates of freshly slaughtered livestock and cages of live vermin delicacies.

The atmosphere was entirely festive; Belial's court lacked the sophisticated entertainments of his wealthier peers, but the strike force had taken to chanting battle songs and many of the nobles were joining in.

They were not exactly skilled singers at the best of times and the copious quantities of fermented fungus being consumed were not helping matters. No one seemed to mind however.

Euryale had just arrived back from the volcano and her normally bright bronze scales were still streaked with ash. She pushed her way through the rowdy lesser demons and arrived at the central table.

"Ah, Euryale, you return to witness my triumph." Belial pushed a heavy goblet of faintly glowing liquid into her hand. The fine liquor was made from juices squeezed from the crushed abdomens of a rare insect; it was rarely seen in Tartarus. "The attacks destroyed scores of their great cities, razed thousands of workshops and killed many millions of mortal."

"Most pleasing, my Lord. However…"

The count continued on as if he hadn't heard her. It looked like he'd already put away quite a bit of the glow wine. "Of course I appreciate your efforts. Such a shame Baroness Yulupki isn't here to receive similar praise."

Euryale snorted. It gave her great pleasure to envision the naga being hauled over to the volcano on the back of a lurching Great Beast and hating every minute of it. She'd requested a wyvern of course but Euryale had made sure that they were 'none available' and then chosen the most cantankerous Great Beast in the stables..

"And what of your handmaiden? Lac-nina-urk-nasee wasn't it?"

The gorgon rolled her eyes, confident that Belial was too drunk to notice. She put down the goblet and replied carefully, shouting to be heard over the din. "As I was about to say, my lord, neither I nor any of my servants have been able to contact her. Most likely she was killed by the humans."

The count's face flickered with a moment of concern before brightening again. "Oh well, no matter. She died gloriously. A gorgon for a whole city seems like a fair trade to me."

Euryale grit her fangs ."In that case I hope your 'stratagem' will not require the destruction of many more cities. Now if you would excuse me…" The gorgon queen whirled around and stormed off, the point of her tail quite deliberately flicking the goblet from the table as she went.

Belial surged to his feet and began to summon psychic force to smite the insubordinate wench, but then paused. What if he had to kill her? Best not risk that until after the second attack he had promised Satan was complete. He shrugged, laughed and settled back into his throne. There would be plenty of time to clip the gorgon's wings later. Hopefully metaphorically, Belial mused, but you never knew with females.

In a corridor of the palace Euryale was also having second thoughts. Belial's casual willingness to sacrifice her kindred had stoked her rage. True, she was just as willing to send any number of lesser demons to their deaths to achieve her own aims. But lesser demons teemed in multitudes. Millennia after the purge, there were still precious few gorgons in existence and Euryale was not about to allow Belial to undo her progress.

Still, he was not that hard to manipulate as long as she applied herself. Defiance like that risked a confrontation and even if she somehow won the physical contest, she doubted she'd last long as ruler of Tartarus. Losing her temper like that risked…

The gorgon's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a servile demon trying to attract her attention. "Ah my lady, I abase myself before your glory and humbly ask…"

"What is it?" Euryale snapped, lacking the patience for the usual groveling.

"The sixty legion of wyvern riders that the count bid depart, which legions should we…"

"What is this?" The gorgon queen fixed the servant with a multi-eyed stare. "Where are my wyvern legions going and why?"

"To the grand army, for the destruction of the mortal invaders!"

Euryale shook her head. Belial seemed bent on squandering precious assets. "Did he say why he is risking my, ah…, his wyverns when Beelzebub must have tens thousand legions of harpies to throw against the human sky chariots?"

The stunted orc seemed to be trying to shrink into the floor. Likely he thought there was no safe answer to this question.

"My lady, it is my understanding… the wyvern legions are to be loaded with hail javelins and bags of explosive stone… I do not think they are intended to fight the human sky chariots."

Euryale stared for a moment before she realized what the count was doing. It wasn't about Abaddon's favor, the mini-sun attack was a far better way to gain that, it was simply a merchant taking an opportunity to demonstrate his wares.

"Very well. Attend me." She set off for the wyvern roosts.

Underground Caverns, City of Dis

She'd been this way many times, most recently to let others know about the new arrivals, who had slipped back out while she was gone. The new arrivals, who were doing things that she'd never have believed if she hadn't seen them with her own eyes.

Her thoughts went back to the assault she'd witnessed, how they had magicked down the walls, then moved methodically through the ruins, ruthlessly killing and killing and killing.

How they did it, she didn't know. But she'd been in enough battles and contact with enough soldiers to tell when someone knew what he was doing. Or she, in the case of this Kim Ngan.

And, during her thirty thousand years as a free person in this the hellish abode of the damned– she wasn't sure how many; the centuries blurred together now – she'd made contacts, and met quite a few military men.

Most had been just the humble rank-and-file, but not all. Some had been great leaders and one of them was just down the passage. In this small underground city hewn from the natural cave network beneath this spur of the giant encircling city of Dis, the torches lit the dark passage with a flickering, orange light that played off the dry stone tunnel; above them was thousands of years' worth of soot staining the rock.

The passage branched; before turning left, Rahaby looked at the symbol scratched in the rock, as much out of habit as to remind herself; she'd been this way many, many times over the centuries to consult with the man who lived at its end, behind the simple wooden door that was before her now.

She knocked twice, then thrice, a code as old as the resistance. If it's so old, how do we know they don't know? That was a disturbing thought, of the kind she'd been having more and more since the newcomers had arrived with their strange ways.

The door cracked open; a man with heavy eyebrows and what seemed a perpetual frown peered out underneath short golden curls. His face softened as much as it could when he saw who had knocked. "Ah, Rahaby. Please come in." He opened the door wider to allow her to enter, and then shut it behind her.

The room was much like the one she'd left a few minutes before, except that in the fireplace was a fire. In front of the fire was positioned a large wooden table strewn over with piles of dried clay tablets and some parchments.

Sitting hunched with his back to her, carefully impressing on a wet tablet with a stylus, was a lithe man of average height, with thin black hair. Standing behind him and looking over his shoulder was a tall, dark, man with a short crew cut and a jutting chin.

At the sound of Rahaby's entrance, the man glanced over his shoulder, then smiled broadly, standing up and stretching."Rahaby! Come in! It has been too long!"

Rahaby smiled wanly back and embraced him. "Your Majesty, it has indeed been too long."

Charles zi Augustus returned the hug warmly, then held her at arm's length. "What brings you here, my friend? The changes shaking up this prison we live in?"

The surprise must have been evident on her face, because he burst into laughter even before she could ask, "You know about it?"

"Rahaby, how long have you known what I've been doing here? I have contacts all over Netherworld, and I have information constantly coming in." Charles smiled. "I know that there are rumors flying all throughout Abaddon's domain about an invasion of Falmart, about Abigor and his expeditionary force, and about a part of the Fifth Ring, along the Styx, where they dare not go. And most of all, of the assassination of Asmodeus. That news made all of hell ring with its chimes. Have you come to give me a rumor?"

"No," Rahaby said firmly. "I have something far better than a rumor. I have seen it all firsthand."

Charles's smile was gone in a flash, and he pulled a chair away from the hearth. "Sit," he said, gesturing. She sat, he sat, and then she started talking.

She told about her first encounter with the four strange escapees, how she'd led them to the holding room, and how they'd disappeared.

She told about the explosions that had started echoing across the swamps, how the bridge across the Styx had been destroyed as though it were built of children's blocks, how the demonic patrols had started disappearing.

She told how their shattered, lifeless bodies had started appearing, with the letters "HFTLN" scrawled in the greenish blood.

After a little bit, Charles held up his hand. "Forgive me; I was so happy to see you, I did not offer you refreshments. Telsa, please get our guest some water."

His companion nodded and moved into an adjoining chamber. Charles nodded at Rahaby. "Please. Continue."

And she did, stopping only to take the cup of water from sage Titus Tesla. Now, she told of her encounter with the forces, of the assault on the castle she had witnessed.

She told of the lightning speed with which the insurgents had moved, of their ability to kill from a distance and to call magic explosions. As she did so, general Soontir Fel moved slightly and listened to her words.

Always the eternal soldier she thought. And she told of the strange man she had been tasked to hide, the man who was so fascinated with ants.

Then she was done, and Charles stared at the wall, his face hard and unmoving in the firelight. The only clue to his thoughts was the drumming of his heel on the ground, which continued incessantly.

At last, he spoke. "Rahaby, I need you to contact the leader of this HFTLN. I need to talk to her as soon as possible. Tell her that we will meet on neutral ground of her choosing. She will know that this means I am approaching her in good faith. I will send Tesla and Fel with you; they are to collect the man you brought with you and bring him back here. Now go; go now, and may the gods bless you."

Secure Accommodation Block, Camo Hell-Alpha, Martial Plain of Dysprosium

The double doors burst open and Colonel Paschal strode in, flanked by MPs carrying menacing M-30A1 plasma rifle. The concrete room was the size of a small hangar, but the huge demon made it look like a cramped apartment. The big plasma screen was showing images of WWII aircraft attacking warships. The stack of Blu-ray cases next to it confirmed that Abigor had been continuing to absorb military documentaries and war movies. The infernal general looked up with a surprised expression, which quickly hardened as he saw the heavy guard detail.

"General Abigor." Paschal was carrying a ruggedized laptop, which he opened and placed on a table in front of the demon. "Can you explain this?" The colonel's tone was not quite threatening, but clearly the humans were not pleased.

Abigor stared in silence as the images of lava, fire and destruction played out. "Belial" he said, in a tone of mild contempt. "This has to be his doing."

"Belial?" Paschal had studied Abigor's profiles of the top demon leadership but he didn't recall the name. "Who is Belial?"

"A sniveling failure. Count Belial is the ruler of Tartarus, a barren wasteland in the part of hell furthest from Dis. Abaddon exiled him there many millennia ago, after he walked right into a trap laid by Lahabiel and got his entire army captured or killed."

"If he's an exile, how did he manage to do this?"

"Belial has been trying to regain Abaddon's favor, by all means of craven and dishonorable means. His realm survives only because he makes himself useful, with his fancy tridents and his overgrown wyverns. His retinue is composed of failures like himself, mostly demons that deserted their lords instead of dying gloriously in their service."

Abigor paused for a moment before continuing, uneasy with how close he had come to describing his own situation. Then he tapped the computer screen with a talon."I have seen this before. Belial used a similar trick to destroy two mortal countries. As I recall, Belial's flashy little stunt went down quite well, well enough for Ezekyle to allow him back into his court.

Paschal frowned. "Why didn't you tell us about this earlier?"

"It did not occur to me that Abaddon would consider this a viable tactic. This is not the way wars are fought…" The demon paused for a second, considering the things he'd seen on the image panel.

"At least, it is not the way we fight wars. Most likely Belial is looking for another opportunity to ingratiate himself and Abaddon has permitted him to proceed in the hope of distracting you while Beelzebub moves his army up for a fresh assault."

Colonel Paschal seemed to relax fractionally. He couldn't be sure Abigor was telling the truth, but his story was plausible given what he'd seen of demon mentality so far.

"So how does this work? Where is the enormous energy coming from?"

"Most likely is from the lava in a volcano. The last time I was in Tartarus was during the Great War, when we used it as a prison to hold low-ranking captured angels. That was a very long time ago, but I remember the prison nestled in the mountains, many of which were crowned with fire."

"Can you give us anything more specific?"

Abigor shrugged."Not really. I don't know the specifics of the ritual. Large portals are always handled by the naga, they keep many of the secrets of portal magery to themselves."

"Naga? Is that what you call the demon flying over the attack site? Looked like an anorexic harpy to me."

A low chuckle escaped the former general's lips. "No, that was a gorgon. Another exiled failure, not surprising that most of them took up with Belial. Naga are much more common… I'm sure I described them to one of your vassals earlier."

Colonel Paschal hit a few keys, calling up the interrogation logs for Abigor. Sure enough, there was a page of text describing 'naga' along with a striking artist's impression of the half-snake, half-humanoid demons.

"I had a coven of them in my retinue," Abigor volunteered, 'but I didn't bring any with me to Falmart. They're slow and soft-skinned, and I did not appreciate the power of your ranged weapons, so I didn't see any use for them." He wondered if it would've made a difference if he had brought them. Certainly not to the outcome, but perhaps the human casualties would have been a little higher. He thought again, maybe even a significant fraction higher.

"Is the gorgon necessary to open the portal? If we shoot it down before the portal opens, will that prevent the attack?"

Abigor stared into space for a moment."I believe the gorgon was there to ensure the portal opened over the target. You see, the larger the portal, the harder it is to predict where it will open. The one you call the 'hellgate' opened a full five leagues from the Psyker I possessed."

"The naga do have a means of opening portals more accurately, but it requires a portal mage at both ends. I imagine the gorgon you saw was involved in that. If you could kill Belial's witches as they appear, then he would be reduced to striking at random in the vicinity of whatever Psyker he could find."

'Better than nothing' Paschal thought. "The target cities were quite random: Jerusalem, Rome, Lhasa... . We aren't aware of any obvious reasons to target those cities. Do you know why Belial chose those targets?"

"No. Belial is fond of bizarre schemes… but then he must have used a Psyker to open a portal for the gorgon. It may be that your counter-magic is getting so good that he was forced to take the first psyker he could find, and the gorgon just flew to the nearest city."

'So no way of knowing where they will strike next' Paschal thought unhappily. "We need to know when he'll strike next. How many times can Belial do this, and how often?"

"I can't give you firm answers Colonel. I do know that opening large portals is a great strain on the naga, they are weak and pained for many days afterwards. Tartarus has a great many volcanoes. The rate at which Belial can open portals depends on how many naga he has and how quickly he can find targets. If Abaddon intends to use this method to exterminate you, then he might order the dukes to loan Belial their covens until the task is done."

"If not a firm answer, then an educated guess?"

"Belial should be able to open at least 40 portals a week with other dukes loan."

Paschal was silent for a moment. "I've got to relay this to my superiors. Sit tight, Ill be back shortly." He pulled a black box from a pocket and brought it up to his ear as he left the room.

Abigor stared at the frozen image of the burning cities. For a while he was completely certain that the mortals would defeat Abaddon, but now he was not so sure. Old traditions were being discarded, the once unthinkable was being considered.

The mortals had given the demons an object lesson in how efficiently war could be conducted when one made decisions purely on the basis of effectiveness, not honor, politics, auspiciousness or tradition. How fast could the Chaos demon learn?

Paschal had returned. "Ok General, let's do this properly. I need everything you can tell me about Belial and Tartarus, starting with its grid co-ordinates."

Abigor wasn't sure what 'grid co-ordinates' meant but he got the impression it had something to do with maps. "You want to know how to get to Tartarus?" Of course, the mortal wanted to stop the attacks by destroying Belial. "It is almost six thousand leagues from here, across all manner of terrain. Even with your chariots, it would take many months to fight your way there, and Abaddon would harass you and your supply train all the way."

Paschal smiled grimly. "General, I have a small gift for you." He handed over a small flat box, one that Abigor recognized immediately as a Ultra HD Blu-ray. It was labeled 'A History of the Manhattan Project'. "Abigor, you have barely begun to see what we can do when we truly wish to destroy our enemies especially with the help of an extremely pissed off Orthodox Order."

White House Communications Suite, White House, Washington DC

"Well, I guess the Israel/Palestine question has been answered, I suppose the only thing left will be to market it as a tourist attraction."

It was probably fortunate that everybody's attention was focused on the imagery being transmitted from the aircraft circling Jerusalem. Had they been looking at Secretary of Commerce, Gina Raimondo, they would have seen her eyes bulging from their sockets with sheer horror. "I can't believe he just said that."

Beside her Defense Secretary Petraeus nodded fractionally in agreement. "I don't know which is worse, the fact he said it or the fact that its true."

"Mister President, thankful as we are for America's usual generous aid in a time of disaster, I must remonstrate with you. This is hardly a laughing matter for my country." Motoi Shinzō looked shocked as indeed he was. Japan was one of the hardest hit countries.

"We American share your pain Shinzō, and I am sorry if my remark sounded disrespectful of your country's loss. But the fact remains, I do not see what we can do about this yet. We will stand by you, fight with you to save what is left of Kyoto and its people, but I do not know how we can stop this kind of attack yet."

"You mean for all our military forces committed to this war, we cannot stop this nightmare? That Chaos demon General who has defected to us. Is he of no help at all?"

"If I may interrupt Sir." On another screen, Commander Nuttall spoke quietly as was his way. "We have discussed this with Grand Duke Abigor. He has told us much of value, identifying the primary culprit, a minor Chaos demon lord called Belial. He has told us how it was done and from where. Belial's stronghold, a place called Tartarus."

"So we can destroy it." Thirty people spoke in exact unison even though they were on 6 different continents. A minor marvel of modern communications that everybody in the room took for granted.

"That's not so easy. Belial is a minor figure, in some disgrace and his fortress is far from our forces, Six thousand leagues in fact, we make that around 21,000 miles as a Tu-688 flies."

"Can you get your bombers there?" Narendra Modi, prime ministers of India, spoke urgently, the pain of Varanasi and Amritsar making his voice falter.

"We can Sir." General John. Corley spoke from Offutt Air Force Base. "As soon as we find out where 'There' is."

"Abigor told us. Tartarus."

"Yes, but where is it. Sir, I've seen the map Abigor drew for us. It's a good map, very carefully drawn, one that Abigor obviously took great care over.

But it's a map drawn by somebody who lives far in our past. It isn't what we call a map, its more a picture. You've seen old maps Sir.

The one Abigor gave us isn't scaled and he doesn't even know what projection is. Come to think of it, nor do we where The Eye of Terror is concerned. We've got mathematicians working on that.

But all we have is a picture. We're going to be looking for a target probably about the size of a town hall, in an area the size of Laurasia.

And we'll be doing it what amounts to a dense fog. We're modifying our MQ-1B to an MQ-1 RBA with side scan radars and a lot of extra hyperspectral imaging camera and it'll go out and look but it could be weeks before she spots a target."

Modi thought for a few seconds. "When we do find it?"

"We'll smear it across the ground. But we have to find it first. Bombers aren't the only option of course." Corley spoke carefully.

"A ground strike? If you need people, the ARES super soldiers are ready to go." UK Prime Minister Rishi Sunak eagerly said.

"Project ARES has successed ?" Dirrel leaned forward asked.

"Yes, we have the first successfull prototypes thanks to the genius of Dr Edward Buck."

"But how will they know where?" Asked the EU representative.

"They won't have to." Petraeus's voice was precise and emphatic. "We don' have to know where a Portal is, we just have to know its in the right place. Then we can put a team in with beacon equipment to home the MQ-1 RBA in. And she can lead the rest of the C-177s."

"And the Tu-688s." Chancellor Putin's voice was equally emphatic."

"And the Tu-688s." President Dirrel smiled engagingly at the screen.

"General Corley wants to speak with you about the Tu-688."

"One question, General." Nuttall raised an eyebrow, "if the team are going to be pathfinders, how will they stay healthy long enough? They can't have armor and air-locked buildings."

"Mr Prime Minister. We do have military units that are native to Netherworld now. And we can reposition one of them for the job. In fact, we are selecting one for it now."

"Mr Chancellor, How is the situation in Vatican ?" Dirrel was unsure of how to react to the Vatican Miracle. The God Almighty was, without any doubt, real and he had apparently saved the Holy See from annihilation and teleported them to the Fucking Russia. Jesus Christ was apparently also 100 percent real, he even had living descendants, this Lenny Belardo. The next election would be 'Fun', he would have to pander hard to the hard right Christian voting block.

"Well, the light is on and the water is running. The Papal State is seeking asylum in Russia. To avoid future problems, we intended to maintain the status quo of Vatican as an independence state within a state." Putin not sure what else he could do, the situation were getting stranger by the day. Russia had had many asylum seekers in the past but this is the first time an entire country applied for asylum in Russia.

"Oh, Dirrel, there's something on television you should watch. The Pope's issued a statement."

"I thought he was laying low for now. Oh well. Thank you Vladimir." He switched the smart screen to Fox news just with his mind using neuralink brain computer interface. Fox's Moscow anchorman was speaking.

Pope John Paul III adjusted his glasses as he eyed the priest s on the other end of the table from him. He was representing the largest branch of the largest of the Abrahamic faiths, and the guest list of this meeting was a who's who of the religious world.

Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains, Muslims, Jews, Bahais, Pagans, and even heretics like Gnostics were invited. As the Bishop of Rome, he was perhaps the individually most influential figure here, though admittedly the Sunni delegation represented more people; he was aware that its hierarchy was not quite as top down as his own Church's.

"And we have just received the news of the Papal statement. The full version will be issued in about an hour time but we have an advanced abstract now. It reads as follows.

Most beloved brethren, people of faith: Urged by necessity, I, Paul, by the permission of God chief bishop and prelate over the whole world, have come into these parts as an ambassador with a divine admonition to you, the servants of God.

Since the beginning of time, the force of evil have tried to destroy the creation of God. Recent attacks on holy sites are a test of our faith. At dark times like this we must have faith in Jesus Christ. We must remember that we are the Lord's children and that he shall keep us in his grace

One thing must remain clear, that we follow the teachings of Jesus Christ that provide a good and just basis for all of human conduct. Remember, that the direst times should not bring out the worst in us, but our best. So go, help those in need. Donate what you can to the victims of these cowardly attacks.

The Vatican Miracle is a sign of the majesty of the Holy Light of Christ, the Spirit, and the Father who art in Heaven. For he have a plan for us all. For it is God's will that Hell's Gate will fall and we, His faithful children, will bring Him victory. Put on your spiritual armor and join the great Army of Light and crush the forces of evil.

I, John Paul III, by God's permission and with the support of my fellow ecclesiastics declare the holy crusade. To do this I call upon the nations of Earth to join force with Falmartian Orthodox Church to carry out the will of the Almighty.

"Holy, Shittteeee!" Dirrel B Johnson, President of United State of America.

Outer Ring, Sixth Circle of Terror

The Eye of Terror made you different. It was the only way he could've reacted how he did to what he and the others had seen. But then he had felt the same way when he had heard of children dying of abuse back home. The same sick rage and desire to kill those responsible. But McElroy crushed his feelinsg down into his boots and forced himself to watch dispassionately.

Aeneas, born in an older, harder time, nevertheless felt the same. He and McElroy had crossed one of the low ridges and advanced down on some of the garrisons that were starting to spread along the banks of the lava flow. Not too close of course, even Chaos demons didn't feel a desire to be too close to that nightmare, but far enough to provide patrols.

The old days, of a single Chaos demon patrolling the banks for days at a time were gone. Too many had gone out and never come back. Now they patrolled in groups, never far from support. And that meant garrisons. Where there were garrisons, that meant troops who had to be supplied and the Chaos demons had never heard of logistics. So there had to be a market and sure enough, there was.

In a cleared out patch of land, just outside the walls of one of the fortresses, many dozens of demons plied wares, bartered, and went about their business. Aeanas kept losing count, but there had to be well over three hundred demons. The best part of a whole company perhaps?

It was in this market that he spied a particular demon, whose cart was packed with writhing bodies. Human, demi-human, elves bodies ect. They were too far away to hear, of course, but every once in a while, a demon would come by and begin some sort of haggling.

The merchant would fetch a victim from the cart and pass it the customer who would open its throat with one of its claws, snap its neck for good measure then eat the carcass on the spot, devouring the body in a few short seconds. It did not take any of them very long to realize that the humans in the merchant's wagon were exclusively children.

Aeanas stared at the scene with cold fury. He did not angrily demand that they throw caution to the wind and charge in to save the children, a hot-blooded rage that blinded its victim to common sense would have called for that. Instead, stone-faced, he watched the merchant empty his wagon, pack up his other trinkets, and be off down the rutted dirt road.

So did Cassidy and McElroy. There would be a time for vengeance, a time when debts like this one would be paid but this was not it. Three humans attacking 300 Chaos demons with edged weapons was simply a way to die. Or be thrown back in the lava streams

Aeanas was a Spartan warrior. To him, nothing was more satisfying than battering his opponent down and finishing him with two or three blows. An honorable battle where one man was pitched against another with victory going to the strongest and bravest.

Only that way was victory meaningful. So when he thought about helpless children being sold as some sort of delicacy the scene just added to the anger and voluminous hate he held in his heart for his tormentors.

He could not be certain, but he suspected that Cassidy and McElroy felt largely the same way. But did they? They didn't look upon war the same way as he did, war for them was an exercise in cost-effective killing where the objective was to make sure the enemy never stood a chance. Aeneas had tried to explain where true honor lay once but McElroy had simply looked at him and said "If it's a fair fight, you made a mistake somewhere."

So were they affected by the horror they had seen? They were, of course, silent on these trips unless speech was absolutely necessary, but they didn't seem any more subdued or lethargic. Instead, they pushed on to get back to base at their same stalwart pace that their state of second death afforded them. It was that silence that allowed Aeanas to kill his first demon.

The three of them trudged through the forest, moving quickly and quietly. The gnarled black trees were thick, and their sickly foliage was slimy with some sort of excretion. Fortunately, this deadened what noise they made. Unfortunately, it reduced their effective range of hearing that much further, but the odds of encountering anything out here were low. Low, but not zero. Aeanas spotted the clearing first. Silently, he tapped Cassidy on the shoulder. She tapped McElroy, and all three halted. "Clearing ahead."

Aeanas didn't even bother to nod. He slid back into the woods and worked his way to the far side of the clearing. When he was settled, he could spy McElroy just barely, but it was enough. Aeanas could at least see the hut's entrance, so he was not surprised when a demon stalked out of it and into the clearing. What shocked him was that the demon appeared to be somewhat aged, or perhaps infirm. He was not a mass of protruding muscle and claw; he was much thinner than most demons, and he had almost an erudite air to his mannerisms. He was still, of course, extremely tall, but his gait was that of someone who doesn't wish to strain himself, like that of an elderly or sick person.

The demon walked around to the side of the hut, where a garden of sorts grew. He plucked a bulbous, red plant from the earth and went back inside his hut, shutting the heavy wooden door behind him. The clearing was silent. The three of them moved quickly and silently across the clearing.

Aeanas held his spear in a two-handed grip, at the ready. He was trained, of course, to have incredible power and precision when thrusting single-handed, so the added might of his shield-arm was all the more devastating.

When they reached the door, Aeanas took up a position to one side of it, Cassidy to the other. McElroy stood in front of it, looked to both of them, then knocked on the door three times, politely, but firmly.

The door swung outward after a moment, towards Cassidy. The demon took a half-step out and froze, a universal look of shock upon his face.

"Howdy!" McElroy crooned. "You know where the river of fire is? We wanted to go for a swim, but we got lost!"

As he spoke the word, "lost," Aeanas thrust. In a smooth motion and with precise aim, he drove the spear tip soaked in holy water up into the demon's open mouth, encountering only feeble resistance when the point struck and passed through the soft palate. It stopped just before striking the brain, but after punching into the sinus cavity of the monster. With even greater fluidity, Aeanas twisted sharply and pulled the point free.

Blood pouring from the demon's mouth and nose, it finally started to move. Aeanas thrust again, taking the demon through its throat. Twisting the spear, he now used it as leverage to wrench the demon backwards into the hut and off its feet, and it fell with a crash. Now McElroy and Cassidy got in on the action, each slamming their tridents into the creature's belly.

"Hurry!" McElroy hissed.

Aeanas obeyed. Unmindful of the numerous lacerations that the demon was opening up on him with its swiping claws, he summoned all his strength and pounded the spearpoint through the demon's eye and into its brain. Swirling it a bit, the demon instantly went limp. After a moment, Aeanas turned back to McElroy and Cassidy, who had shut the door behind them and were eying him with something like awe. McElroy pointed. "Looks like he might've got you."

Aeanas looked down. Sure enough, a few greasy coils of his intestines were protruding from a deep gash just above his groin, with blood sheeting over his genitals and down his legs-it was certainly a sight he'd seen before. Shrugging, Aeanas stuffed his guts back inside of his body with his fist while Cassidy and McElroy wrapped a piece of cloth around his midsection, securing with a length of rope. By the time they were done, the bleeding from his other wounds had nearly stopped.

"Alright," McElroy began, "we'd best clear out and head back to base." He looked to Aeanas. "You OK to walk? You need a minute to rest?"

"I will be fine," Aeanas grunted. The pain was searing, but the fact that it abated steadily was what made it bearable.

"Good man," McElroy said. He turned to Cassidy. "Anything we can use?"

She was poring over the variety of desks and shelves all around the tiny hut. "Ethanol!" She set aside a second jar. "Or close enough. I didn't realize these things knew how to distill. We should report this."

"Are you sure it's not methanol?" McElroy asked.

"Yup. Methanol smells sweet, like antifreeze. This is probably demon moonshine. Want a swig?"

McElroy shook his head. "I wasn't much of a drinker back on Earth, and I don't see much reason to start now. Least of all with Abaddon's version of white lightnin'."

Cassidy shrugged, and took a pull. Frowning as it went down, she rasped, "Yup, that's ethanol all right. Absolutely devastating. But it's good, 'cause it means they can distill…" she went quiet for a few minutes, moving from jar to jar. She fetched another satchel and loaded up the now-capped jars in them, passing it to McElroy.

"Geez, this crap's heavy. Let's go." McElroy opened the door a crack and peered outside, stepping out after a moment. Cassidy followed him and Aeanas came out last.

They stayed that way until they got back to base. McElroy started typing the details of what they had seen into his computer, ready for the transmission back to earth. Standing over him, Cassidy read what he wrote and a tear trickled down her face. Now that the patrol was over they could let themselves feel what they had shut out before.

McElroy, is it all right to talk? Tyuwaru?"

No, Tyuwaru is away on leave at last. My name is Indira, I have taken over from her for a while. Have you anything to report?

Too much Indira. Far too much. McElroy went through the report on the scene at the village.

That is terrible.

This is a terrible place. Can you resupply us now?

Yes, we have rifles, ammunition, explosives coming through. But, I must also tell you that your group has been selected for a special mission. One that will take you outside the Pit.

You couldn't have said anything better Indira. No place could be worse than this, I guess that must be the whole point.

Secure Accommodation Block, Camo Hell-Alpha, Martial Plain of Dysprosium

"The Enemy is Dust, dust that gets in your boots, your hair, your eyes, your lungs. Dust in vital systems and gears and axles. Dust is the common enemy DRS Technologies helps to manage, banish or thwart in Netherworld, every minute of every day. The enemies DRS fights can be huge or as small as a grain of sand.

And the solutions can range from providing expert service personnel to developing novel technologies. Like self-lubricating sealed axles for tank trailers. Systems that let pilots see through the clouds of dust in Netherworld's atmosphere. And fully-sealed, fanless mobile computers.

The goal: tohelp our forces achieve their objectives in Hell. Bring us your problems, your toughest challenges, we are always looking for a new enemy to conquer and take us one step nearer to completing or mission to save our dead."

Memnon laid the copy of Defense News to one side, marveling at the casual ease with which the humans spoke of finding solutions to problems. As if problems were games to be won, not hardships to be endured. Almost without thinking he flexed his great wings, now regrowing strong and true.

Another problem humans had solved. They'd seen the mangled stumps that had been growing before and he'd explained that the fragments of mithril from the missile warheads were the problem. Mithril didn't agree with demon bodies. They'd nodded and come up with a plan.

They'd amputate the new growth and remove the mithril fragments, then allow new wings to grow back. They weren't sure it would work, but it was a good chance, their "medic" had said. Memnon had agreed, he had nothing to lose after all.

They'd taken him into a section of the great building that was all white. Then they'd said they would put him to sleep for the operation. Memnon had refused that, refused angrily. Who were they to put him to sleep like a kidling? He was a Lesser Herald, he could endure whatever pain the humans had in store. The doctor had agreed and said that they'd just give him a little injection to help his muscles relax, make it easier to cut his mutilated wings off. Now, if he'd just count backwards from ten…

And Memnon had woken up when it was all over, his failed wings removed and the searing hurt of the iron fragments removed from his back. And he had learned something about"medics" and "nurses". They could be even sneakier than other humans. But he'd watched as his new wings had regenerated and they were true wings, ones that would support him in flight.

The doors banged and some humans came in, soldiers in the odd clothes they wore. The ones that had a strange pattern that made them hard to see. "Memnon, my name is Colonel Paschal."

"Colonel." Memnon stood up and tried to hold himself erect the way humans did. Not grovel on the floor and lick his boots as a high-ranking demon would demand. The Colonel looked at him and nodded slightly, like most of the human troops in Hell, he found the Chaos demon displays of submission sickening.

"Memnon, do you know of a place called Tartarus?"

"Certainly. It is the stronghold of a minor lord called Belial. I have had little to do with him, he is of little account. A defeated loser surrounded by others of his kind."

"Well, he's just become important to us. Critical question, you know where Tartarus is, you can get there?"

"Of course, Now my wings are well again, I can fly there. If I go as fast as I can, it will take me…" Memnon stared at the ceiling and calculated distance. "A minimum of 140 of your hours."

"One hundred and forty hours. Nearly six days." Now it was Paschal's turn to think. "How soon can you leave?"

"As soon as my lord commands. I have sworn fealty to Abigor and he to you. So when your lord orders it I will leave. What message must I give to Belial?"

"Oh, you? Nothing. We have a message for him,. One he won't forget in a hurry. Your job is just to get to Tartarus, stay close to Belial's fortress and wait, unseen. We will contact you there and send you the message we will wish delivered to Belial."

Memnon nodded, now he could see why the humans had restored his wings, they needed his services as a Herald. Was Belial planning to defect to the humans as he and Abigor already had? If so, then he, Memnon, would be well placed in the favor of these strange new lords to whom he had sworn fealty.

Outer Ring, Sixth Circle of Terror

"All set up?" McElroy looked around at his unit. Well, it wasn't his any more, but he still had a proprietorial feel over it, even though the living troops from Earth had inflated its numbers and provided a proper command structure. The strike team was now nearly 70 humans, living or deceased, and they were about to teach the Chaos demons a lesson in applied firepower. And applied vengeance.

"All units, get ready. Mortar teams, prepare to open fire on my command." The voice on the radio was heavily accented. European, where in Europe was beyond McElroy's ability to identify. Their equipment was Russian, or at least Eastern-Europe though. That meant Poles? Or Czechs perhaps. No matter, they were somebody's special forces troops and whoever they were, they were very good.

"Fire!" The accented word came over the radio and McElroy heard the coughing thump of the mortars opening fire. They were the big ones, 180mms, the biggest modern artillery deployed within the Hell-Pit.

Despite their size, their crews went to work with a vengeance. A good mortar crew with power armor can get six bombs in the air before the first strikes home and these crews were better than good.

McElroy watched the ripple of explosions walk across the market place, the fragments scything down the Chaos demons as they stood around the stalls. They'd never been under mortar fire before, they had no idea what it was that was killing them and they just stood there, bewildered, while the bombs crashed down around them.

Mortars are deadly weapons, their rate of fire and high payload making them great killers of creatures caught in the open. Their worst limitation is ammunition supply; especially when the weapons were man-packed in the way these were.

The crews were already running short and they kept back one round each as a final envoi for when the humans withdrew, Their role was taken over by three 50mm machine grenade launchers, Mk 48 Striker, that pumped their small rounds into the target, picking off the groups of Chaos demons left standing by the 180s.

Down below, McElroy saw the Chaos demons starting to react. Cries of"human magery" echoed up the slope and figures broke from their paralysis to try and get away from the unexpected danger. The problem was, they had pitifully few places to go and far more then half their number were already down.

"Move in." The orders were curt, tense. McElroy brought his M25 up to his shoulder and squeezed off three plasma bolts at a Chaos demon that seemed unusually active in trying to rally resistance.

The figure went down, sprays of green blood erupting from its body. Then it was his section's time to move forward. The others were laying down intense fire, pinning the Chaos demons in position.

The deceased humans got to their feet, running forward to their next position, a shallow depression about half way down the slope. It took seconds to reach it, seconds that seemed like hours, but they made it andspread out, giving covering fire for the next group to move forward.

It was classic stuff, fire and maneuver, each squad moving forward while the others covered it from their own positions. There were a few bolts coming out from the beleaguered Chaos demon positions but they were wild, McElroy suspected some of the enemy were just holding their tridents over whatever it was they were hiding behind and blasting away at random.

It took only three jumps to close in on the marketplace and by then what few Chaos demons were left alive had pulled back into their camp, but doubtless they'd be re-organizing in there. Time was short.

That wouldn't matter much. The great cart that was the object of the attack was in front of them, the mortar and grenade crews had been careful to keep there patterns of shells and bombs away from it. McElroy saw a Chaos demon, his legs shattered by fragments, trying to drag himself away from the slaughterhouse that had once been a market. He didn't even pause before shooting the crippled demon in the head.

Indira, are you there?

Waiting for you. Ready now?

Biggest portal possible Indi, big as you can, it will only be for a few seconds. We're on our way out.

In front of him, the red air of netherworld shimmered and a black ellipse formed. McElroy and the rest of his unit grabbed the cart and started it rolling forward, ignoring the screams from the children inside.

Behind them, the mortar crews already had their weapons on their carts and were rolling them towards the hole while the rest of the special forces group gave covering fire.

Then, the red/gray environment of netherworld vanished and McElroy found himself inside a large building, a hangar, lit from outside by the clear yellow light of Earth's sun.

Behind him, the heavy weapons group were already through the portal, and the special forces troopers were backing out, firing through the black ellipse as they withdrew.

Six of them were bringing three others who were obviously hurt, another carried a dead man in a fireman's lift. Then, as the last came through, the portal shut down.

DIMO(N) Transit Facility, Moffet Field, Mountain View, California

As the last of the raiding group cleared the portal, a wave of cheering erupted across the occupants of the transit facility. The building had once been used as an airship hangar but had been quickly modified into its present role.

It was a much better deal than the cramped Pentagon quarters that had been used before. The size was valuable, the great cart that had been wheeled through the ellipse was testimony to that. Around it, the deceased humans of McElroy's unit were standing bewildered.

"You OK Sergeant?"

"Its Corporal Sir, Corporal McElroy."

"No, its Sergeant (deceased) McElroy and if you knew how much trouble you were causing the pay corps, you would be a very happy man."

"I'm just happy to be here Sir. Out of that place, shit, I feel crappy."

"You can't stay here son. You'll have to go back, but we're linking you directly to Camp Hell-Alpha. That's a UEADF Army facility by the Hellgate. A Colonel Paschal will be waiting for you and your unit, he has orders for you. By the way, you'll be losing Ori and Aeneas, the historians want to talk to them and, frankly, they're dead weight for where you'll be going." Major Warhol sounded apologetic but in truth he wasn't. Anyway, he wanted to talk to somebody who had fought at Thermopylae.

"Sir, I don't think…"

"No choice Sergeant." Warhol softened a little. "Look over there, Your mom and one of your sisters has come in. You've got a few minutes to say 'Hi' then you're on your way to Hell-Alpha. You can't stay here, this level will kill you soon.

Warhol looked over to the small crowd of people who were standing beside the doors of the hangar. McElroy's men had run over to them, recognizing their relatives. Cassidy had her head buried in a young man's chest while he stroked her hair. At their feet, a dog was sniffing at her, confused, knowing this had been his human before she'd gone but also that she wasn't human any more. That confused him and dogs do not like to be confused.

'Sir, over here!"

The staff had the gates at the back of the cart open and were quieting the children inside. They too would have to go back to The Eye of Terror but to the area occupied by humans. What would happen to them in the longer term was anybody's guess. People were only just beginning to realize the implications of of the existence of afterlife.

"What have you got?" To his surprise, two of the troopers who had opened up the cart had vomited and three others were openly crying. This was not something he had expected to see from the "Screaming Eagles"

"Look at this Sir, just look at it."

'This' was a large pot, looking for all the world like an old-fashioned chamber-pot. Larger than any thunder-jug he had ever seen though. Warhol looked inside and saw a writhing mass of small red things, some looking fairly human, others barely formed.

Warhol was confused. "What are they? Chaos demon kidlings?'

"No Sir. Ours. They're human embryos. Perhaps those that were miscarried or aborted, I don't know. But they're our fetuses and the Chaos demons just ate them like snacks." The tears were streaming down the airborne soldier's face and he didn't even bother to wipe them away.

Well, that's the end of Roe versus Wade Warhol thought to himself, more to deny the horror of the scene than anything else. "Right, we have to get this lot back into Netherworld. Round up McElroy's people and get them ready. Time to reinsert.

Over by the equipment bay, Indira Singh had shifted off the couch and Jennie Kwang had taken her place."Ready to go Jennie?" She gave a big thumbs-up and settled back to make contact.

Are you there Private Chestnut?

Do I have any choice? The mind-voice was weak and sulky. From Jennie's experience in the People's Liberation Army, the Sergeants were in process of breaking down the spoiled little brat and building the man that would replace him. It was a form of rebirth as well.

No, so please open up the portal. It was much easier to do it from his end and would cause her little or no pain. Even humans needed only marginal amplification when opening a portal from Hell-side. The black ellipse popped open almost immediately,

"Right, McElroy, take your people though, everybody else, get that cart through." Warhol snapped out the orders. McElroy's unit finished saying their good-byes to their families and stepped through the portal to Camp Hell-Alpha.

When everything that had to go was gone, Kwang snapped the portal shut. Given electronics, and a presence the other side, humans had the best of both worlds, they could open gates easily from hell side and close them equally easily from earth side. If only the demon nukes problem was so easy to solve.

Warhol was speaking into a mobile radio. "They're gone General, just a few seconds ago. The kids as well and that's a sight that I don't want to ever see again."

Indira was standing beside him, politely waiting for him to finish. Her normally deep blue draconian skin was dark but her mithirl hat shone in the sun streaming through the windows, making it seem as if she was wearing a halo.

"Will they be coming back through here Sir?"

"McElroy's people? Yes, we can't portal from place to place in The Eye of Terror, for some reason the portals can't form when there isn't a barrier. Like you can't have a door without a wall to put it in I guess. But, they'll be coming back through, in around three days if all goes well.

Oval Office, White House, Washington

"Well, that's the end of Roe versus Wade. The public won't balk at 'right to life' legislation now."

Vice President Karl Urban nodded in agreement.

The President lifted his eyes from the report and looked steadily at the speaker. "Karl, hear me on this and don't even think of crossing me. You will say nothing of this, do you understand, nothing. We're classifying this report so deep that it will never be found."

"But Dirrel, it's a prime opportunity to get that judgment reversed."

"I don't care. Karl, have you any idea how much suffering this report will cause if it gets out? All the women who have lost babies for any reason, natural or otherwise, read it, they'll think of their baby in those vats, waiting to be used as a Chaos demon snack.

You've read the reports on depression and stress disorders amongst women who've lost or aborted babies, I will not be responsible for increasing their suffering.

We will have a quiet word with the Justices, share this information with them, then when the opportunity comes, they can make the ruling that they think fit. But we will not cause the suffering and grief that results from this report to force their hands in public."

"But…"

"I said No Karl, what part of that don't you understand. And I'll repeat this, don't try a leak or 'arrange' for somebody else to do it for you. Got that into your head? Because it is a warning."

Camo Hell-Alpha, Martial Plain of Dysprosium

"McElroy? This your unit? Good. We'll get you to a briefing room ASAP. We've got three days to train you up on operating the navigational beacons and get you prepared for the next part of this operation. Your instructors will be with you shortly."

McElroy looked around at the Army base, its scene familiar even of its setting wasn't. He might be out of the Hell-Pit but he was back in the regular Army. And its habits hadn't changed, it was still 'hurry up and wait.'

Underground Caverns, City of Dis

Despite the oppressiveness of being cooped up underground, Richard Clayderman was fully recovered and had been for some time. The professor of biology part of him was only half conscious of his surroundings, the rest of his mind was riveted on the world around him. As the trauma of his days of torment had slowly died, long after no trace of the hideous burns remained, he'd begun to take note of the sunless realm, his scientific training taking over.

Even here, inside this labyrinth of granite caves, he'd examined his environment. The floor was coated with mud, brown, but flecked with what looked a bit like duckweed, or algae of some sort. It was the consistency of cake batter. There were tufts of thick grass growing out of it here and there, but it wasn't like any grass he'd ever seen– short, thick, and serrated. On the walls surrounding him, were strange lichen formations. And the bugs – the bugs were like nothing in his experience.

An evolutionary etymologist by profession, Clayderman had spent his life studying insects. He knew a new species when he saw one, and right now, all the things he was seeing were new species. The flies buzzing around, flitting from wall to wall, light source to light source, were larger and faster than their counterparts back on Earth. The dragonflies that swooped in and out of the shadows that marked the natural origin of this complex did so on iridescent wings that were colored to reflect the environment of Netherworld, striated orange beneath and muddy brown above. Clayderman supposed that they must have a natural predator, else there would have been no need for camouflage from above.

So, in the true spirit of scientific inquiry (he would not admit to himself that he had nothing better tp do at this point) he devoted himself to carefully watching the insects around him for several hours. Finally, he was vindicated as a small, dark-orange bird swept out of the shadows, caught a particularly large and (Clayderman supposed) juicy dragonfly in its beak, and perched on a convenient ledge not two meters from him. As it crunched on its meal, it looked for all the world like a little puffed-up bundle of feathers with two large, black eyes and a short, sharp beak.

Yet for all its differences, the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that everything here was similar, somehow, to everything on Earth. The biosystems had to be related somehow; it was all slightly different, slightly off, from the natural ecosystem, but they were so much the same. Certainly not the entirely different life forms one would expect from a completely separated alternate universe. That fitted in with all his observations to date, wherever this place was, it shared a common ancestry with Earth. Or at least the creatures here did. He wondered briefly if they were the, he tried to think of a description, his mind rebelling from using the word "Soul"

It didn't help that he wasn't quite aware of what his exact status was here. Somewhere between a guest and a prisoner and certainly a damned nuisance (literally he reflected bitterly). The door of his room wasn't locked but he was cautioned that the network of caves was great and it had dangers all of its own.

Early in his stay, that woman, Rahaby, had taken him for a walk through the tunnels and he had seen a row of ants marching from one crack in the walls to another. They had been the size of his big toe, larger and fatter than any sort of ant he'd ever heard of on Earth. And, they were dark, mud-colored. Their pincers were almost certainly able to break skin; he took some care to take a big step over the line. He'd turned to Rahaby and tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me."

She didn't stop, but flatly shot back, "What?"

"Do you spend much time here?"

"Not as much as I would wish. Do you think I want to get caught out in the open by those demons?"

"Ah." Clayderman was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "Rahaby, do you think you can answer a few questions for me?"

She audibly rolled her eyes. "All right."

"Do you know what kind of ants those are?"

"Ants?" Rahaby sounded genuinely surprised. "What ants?"

"The ants we just stepped over."

For a moment, Rahaby cast about her memory."Ah, those ants. There are a lot of them around here. What about them?"

"Do you know anything about them?" Clayderman asked.

"Not really." She paused for a second, looked at him, then continued walking forward. After another few minutes, she asked quietly over her shoulder, "What do you care about ants?"

Clayderman, busy scanning the ground for insects, said after a few seconds,"Well, the ecosystem here is fascinating. Those ants aren't like anything back on Earth. So I'm trying to find out about them, and about all the other plants and animals, to learn more about Netherworld and what its history must have been."

Rahaby frowned. "You can tell the history of the place just by looking at its plants and animals?"

"A little bit," said Clayderman. "We can make some surmises as to the evolutionary history of the ecosystem by studying the plants and animals. For example, we can tell how long ago their ancestors came here from Earth, and how much has occurred since then."

She'd looked at him, bewildered, and shown him the way back to his room. And he'd been here more or less ever since. It was comfortable enough although if Clayderman made it back to Earth, he would never complain about a Ramada Inn again.

He'd had nothing to do other than watch the insects and try to work out if any of them were dangerous. He was still mulling over the options there, contact poisons, bites, spitting, when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Rahaby entered the room, two men behind her. Clayderman recognized the type instantly. Heavies. Muscle. The names varied from country to country but their kind never did. He didn't know whether this was a good time to get scared or already too late for that. But, they didn't look hostile. More curious than anything else.

"Our leader would like to speak with you. We will take you to him and then we must go outside. Do you need help?"

Clayderman relaxed. A little. "No, Rahaby, I'm recovered now." He turned to the two men. "I'm Richard Clayderman."

"Good for you." The fair-haired man grunted the words out.

"Don't mind him. He's always a bit irritable when Charles's alone. I'm Titus Tesla, he's Soontir Fel."

"Titus Tesla, the man who built the Eternal Capital Sadera?" Clayderman was stunned.

The big man laughed. "So, you like it ? It took me quite some time."

"I've seen atmospheric satellite image of the city. It was magnificent, a true wonder that surpass even the mega metropolis of modern China."

The big man looked confused. Rahaby cut smoothly in. "Don't worry Titus, none of understand what he's saying most of the time. He likes ants though, if you see any, take him to them. They'll keep him happy for hours."

Conference Room, The White House, Washington DC

"What is the news from Gary?"

"Not good Mr President. Our nuclear weapon expert, Keavy McManus, has estimated the blast in Gary was about 6 megaton in yield. The entire city of Gary was annihilated, anything from West Roseland to Chesterton is currently on fire, glass windows from Chicago to Michigan city were shattered, roads are blocked, train tracks warped, runways cluttered with rubble.

"Immediate Response Force and FEMA are having hard times to access the effected area due to fire. ULTRON estimated the number of fatalities and injuries in the first 24 hours is 252,250 and 581,020 respectively.

"Our vulcanologistes believe that base on the yield of the annihilation sphere, we didn't get the full might from a primary volcano. Their opinion is that the structure that powered the demon incantation is a major caldera with a large number of daughter outlets around it. We got hit with one of those daughters. That would match up with the description of Tartarus we got from Abigor and that Herald creature. Where is he by the way?"

"Abigor, still at Hell-Alpha. Spends most of his time answering our questions or watching war movies. He's very taken with the Hollywood definition of war. Although that Spartan spearmen we found isn't so enamored, The troops had a showing of "300" and he sat in on it. He was foaming at the mouth by the end and tried to stick his spear through the screen. I hate to think what will happen when our Japanese Samurai sees 'Kagemusha'."

"Kagemusha is supposed to be very accurate actually. But I think Zack Snyder had better run for his life if Aeneas finds out where he lives."

On the great video screen, PM Motoi Shinzō drummed his fingers angrily. He wasn't used to the way American meetings tended to wander off the point sometimes. "Mr. President, I didn't mean Abigor, I meant the Herald thing that was with him. Menthol, or whatever his name was. What is he doing?"

"Memnon." Director of the CIA Linda Haspel smiled engagingly at the screen.

"He's off doing what he does best, going places in the Eye of Terror. We can contact him anywhere we want, any time. So, where he is can be very important to us."

"What Director Haspel means." Secretary Petraeus threw an amused glance at his colleague, she was very good at ambiguity speech. "Is that Memnon is engaged in an undercover operation of critical importance and we're not at liberty to say any more than that in case that operation is endangered."

"That is as may be. But the Japanese people want vengeance for Kyoto." Shinzō was truculent and the other listeners believed he had every right to be. The destruction of cultural capital of Japan with its 1,500,000 dead, the number was still rising, had been a hard blow.

"And they shall have it Shinzō. Pressed down and running over. But, we must make certain that our vengeance is both appropriate and properly targeted. That blow must make our enemies weep bitter tears, not just for the pain it inflicts but for the harm it causes."

The PM was silent for a few seconds. He knew what the President was really saying, that the vengeance for Kyoto must do real harm to the enemy.

"Aye, I can understand that. But the Japanese people, they need to see something happen. Can't we blow something up? We have the weapons, why not use them?"

Dirrel B Johnson suddenly looked weary. "I wish we could. But we're in a long war, we have no idea of how long and worse, our enemy are getting smarter by the days.

We have a rough idea of how big the demonic realm is, and the answer is frightening. The land area of Netherworld exceeds that of Falmart and it's all grouped in one great continent.

And beyond that, we have the war against the Empire. We can be sure they have been watching what happens in the Eye of Terror and are casting their plans accordingly.

It could take us most of a generation to establish our hold over this planet and if we're not careful, we could end up fighting a guerilla war that would last for longer than that.

We need to keep as much of our power in reserve as we can. We must release just enough at any given time to maintain our superiority and that's it."

"Easy for you to say Sir. But the political pressure here to do something is overwhelming. It is politically essential that we be seen to take a terrible revenge for what has been done to us. There must be some action we can take. If not, I honestly question whether our people's morale will hold up. Our people go to sleep every night, wondering whether this is the night that a nuke will be dropped over their heads."

"Perhaps there are some things you can do." From the screen, General Nuttall spoke, the red sky outside the window of his office revealing that he was speaking directly from the Eye of Terror. In fact, the transmission was going out by way of a fiber optics cable to a transmitter the other side of the Hellgate but that was another matter.

"In a few hours, perhaps no more than two days, there will be the biggest battle the world has ever seen. We've spotted three Chaos demon armies closing in on our defense line along the Phlegethon river.

Between them, they number over seven and a quarter billion Chaos demons. If our intelligence is anything to go by, and our sources have proved reliable to date, this is a major part of the Chaos demon professional army.

We intend to destroy that army and we will be using our tactical air power to achieve a large part of that. That will let the secret of one of our most devastating weapons be out of the bag then.

You have your C-177 Mister Shinzō, we have a map of Dis and we can suggest a few targets that might be highly satisfactory. They'll act as a curtain-raiser to the main act."

"So something is happening? That is good to know. Thank you General."

"It is mine job, Prime Minister."

Now the next problem. Commander Nuttall hesitated, what he was about to say could endanger humanity's best hope for preventing further attacks.

"There is another possibility. Mr. Sunak soon we will be able to strike directly at the source of these volcano attacks.

We need Special Forces troops to do that and our own are already thinly spread supporting the insurgent groups in the Eye of Terror.

Your ARES super soldiers are rumored to be the best the world have ever see. It's time we test their skill. If you can ready a strike force, we can, when the time is right, send it in."

"I will have them ready right away." Replied the UK Prime Minister.