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.

37. Chapter 38 : The End Of An Era

Chapter 38: The End Of An Era

Note: To anyone said the battle is one sided. That's just wrong. The scope and scale of industrial warfare is immense. After a decade of preparation Earth is in total war economy they can produce hundreds of thousands of tanks per year. Don't tell me it's not possible. Earth's industrial infrastructure are not just intact they're rapidly expanding. Just compare 1935 US military to 1945 US military. One is a second-rate power the other is an unstoppable Juggernaut.

Nuclear weapons are game changing, it is basically mini sun. Have anyone heard the concept of MAD. A nuclear power can't be forced to unconditional surrender. Earth has a lot of nuke and they are making more fast. The Empire can survive a full scale nuclear attack from Earth but they will be reduced to a really pitiful state.

Titan power doesn't make you immune to tank shell and missile or nuclear weapons. Magic is strong but they usually limited by range. Humans can attack from thousands of miles aways. Never attack your enemy strong points, attack their weaknesses. If your infantry are inferior to your enemy then bomb them to ash from above.

Of course the Empire knows where the Earth will attack. The GATE always appear at Alnus Hill. The reason Earth can't detect them is because they were hiding underground. As soon as they were detected, they immediately got nuked. Earth just underestimate the Empire due to their low tech.

---

The Amphitheater of Tranios, Underneath the City of Dis, The Eye of Terror

Heedless of the blood squelching beneath her feet, Mabel Fornm, The Apostle of Light and Order walked forward Abaddon's headless corpse with a mix of disgust and amaze. He was finally dead, Abaddon, the leader of their mortal enemy. She had done it, she avenged Rory. Mabel only regretted not being able to do this sooner. For 40 thousand years the Apostles had failed to kill this bastard, this fat rat had been hiding too well, the closest they had ever got was when Rory nearly killed him during the 12th Black Crusade. But today he finally paid the price for his crimes.

"Miss Fornm, would you like to take a picture with this?" An American Marine asked her while taking a selfie with the corpse himself.

This was an old tradition of taking pictures with your hunting trophies. There was a rumor that, after killing Bin Laden, SEAL Team 6 team members took pictures with his bullet ridden body. Mabel considered his offer for a moment before nodding. This was an defining moment in history, they should record it for the future generations.

"Take a good pic, lad. I want to capture the essential of the moment." Said Mabel as she jumped on top of the corpse to pose. Being a well-trained political figure, she knows how to pose for photos.

While being photographed, Mabel could heard the shout Ab-ig-or. AB-IG-OR, AB-IG-OR... from afar. It seemed there was a new government in Netherworld. Humans wanted him to be their puppet leader in Netherworld, a rather unwise move if you ask her. These lowly demons only follow the strong and they were inherently untrustworthy. Only a fool giving them any short of power, real or not. If it up to her she would engulf them all in holy fire and raze every building to its foundation. It was a pity that the Holy Order lacked the ability to project power here. The casualties they received in the recent battle were considerable.

"Having fun, Lady Fornm?" General Schatten asked jokingly. This victory was a great part of her doing.

"Not bad! I just wish your guys didn't finish him so quickly with that missile of your. I'm just warming up, you know." It would be a lie if Mabel said she didn't want a longer battle. Everyone else was having a battle of their life except her. Unbeknownst to her, Mabel would soon have her wish granted.

Interrupting their celebration was a Lesser Demon that rushed into the Amphitheater with a look of great urgency. His voice cracked. "Lord Abigor, Abaddon's Great Mounting Beast Naggaroth is on a rampage. It is burning the city above us."

"Naggaroth, the Seven Headed Beast of Damnation!"

There was a great disturbance in the room, even Abigor was shocked to learn that the Great Seven Headed Beast was still alive. How could the humans miss something so big. That damn thing was the size of a small mountain. It didn't matter now, the humans had to kill the Beast for him or his reign would end before it even began.

"Call the Eighth Air Force and tell them to send a squadron of B-52 bombers with anti-ship missiles here right now — " General Schatten was interrupted by the Blue Haired Apostle.

This was her moment to shine, Mabel could sense it. No one could steal her last hit now. This was her prey. "Call off your bombers, General. This bastard is mine!"

"You really don't need to — "

Mabel raised a graceful eye brow of her. "I insist!"

Lowering his eyes, he observed her intently. Feeling the intense pressure from the petite demi-goddess in a nun-like clothes, a frown tugging at the edge of the General's mouth. "Have a good hunting trip, Your Holiness."

Without wasting any more time, Mabel Fornm, the Apostle of Light and Order teleported to the battlefield.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As soon as Mabel stepped out of the portal, right off the bat, the scent of blood and ash assaulted her.

It was everywhere.

Fresh.

And mixed with demon groans.

Mabel Fornm looked around and saw the culprit as its shadow casted over her. It was a huge, four hundred meters across, misshapen beast, flying in an ungainly pattern, with seven heads and a tail that seemed to act as a rudder. A cross-breed of a Greater Harpy, Naga and a Hydra, a mount that had no equal anywhere else in Netherworld. It had been a gift for Abaddon, a great mount that was unique, that Abaddon could use to overawe any who saw him.

"A seven-headed dragon!" Mabel brimmed with excitement.

The land of Falmart boasted of immortal slayers who were said to be able to kill an immortal. It also boasted dragon slayers who were also rumored to be able to kill dragons. Dragon slaying magic was a magic taught by the ancient dragons after all.

Mabel Fornm wasn't a slayer; she was neither an immortal slayer nor a dragon slayer. They say that those who possessed such magic were very strong. But it didn't matter who trained you and who taught you the magic. The most important thing that mattered was how you executed your magic.

The rule that only a dragon slayer could kill a dragon didn't apply to her. There was a belief that only an ancient dragon could defeat another ancient dragon, but that was a false belief, it was blatant ignorance.

It would be believable if they were saying that dragon slayers were the strongest mages in Falmart - then she would be inclined to believe that they could deal damage to dragons. But there were mages who were far superior to dragon slayers, in many ways. Still, the world still believed in such a fairy tale.

Mabel Fornm was a 'demi-god', she didn't need to be a dragon slayer to kill a dragon, she didn't need to be an immortal slayer to slay an immortal, she is an Apostle. The magic of the god was in her, she was their instrument, and such beliefs that only a dragon slayer like Giselle could kill a dragon, she found to be laughable.

After Naggaroth noted her existence and prepared to attack. Mabel calmly raised her right hand to the sky.

She then called it.

The the name of her divine weapon.

"— Diva " Crown of Blade.

As if to respond to Mabel's words, several rays of lights came pouring down from the sky which has lost its sun and surrounded Mabel. All of those light then materialized and each one of them looked like long slender wings.

The same time she clenched the hand raised to the sky, all those wings spread out in a circle.

Yes. It was as if-Mabel was getting crowned.

Mabel spread both her hands out. As if to match that action,

the tip of the crown above her head expanded and made a circle that looks like the sun.

" Diva —[ Heaven Rain ]!"

Mabel silently announced that. In an instant, the weapon forming a ring above Mabel's head started to spin and release light particles around.

"Kuh-"

Naggaroth spread out it wings and made a wall around it with mana. After an instant, crazy amount of light particles were poured down at it from Mabel's weapon.

It was such a beautiful and extremely destructive rain. Each drop was clusters of light capable of tremendous power and several thousands of it continued overrunning the ground without pause.

The narrow road. The unlucky demons on the ground. The houses lined up. The ruthless Apostle did not let any of them off the hook. The city scenery was easily destroyed like paper touched by rain.

"Guh."

Naggaroth somehow managed to block that attack with the shield concentrated with mana but, this will not go well if this goes on. After Naggaroth poured in strength into its seven heads, its opened its wings with full knowledge that it would take few hits.

ROOAARRRRRRRRR!

Together with a powerful roar, the Great Seven-Headed Beast released a barrage of lightning bolts, thousands of times stronger than normal bolts by naga, towards Mabel.

".uh"

After Mabel slightly twitched her eyebrows, she pointed her other hand downward. When she did that, the ring releasing light particles separated and made a shield in front of Mabel to fend off Naggaroth's lightning.

At that moment, the light particles were interrupted. Naggaroth did not let this chance go and kicked the ground causing it to fly straight up to the sky and closed in to Mabel.

It didn't have the leisure to hold back its strength. Naggaroth unleashed huge fire balls with its seven heads. Fireballs assaulted Mabel from all directions.

But- The moment those fire balls touched Mabel's dress. Mabel's appearance turned to light and disappeared; she then appeared a few hundred meters back from her original position.

"—Too slow!"

Mabel frowned her eyebrows and clenched her fist before using that hand and pointing it upwards.

[ Heavenly Wings ]

When she did that, Diva collected itself again and made wings behind Mabel. Mabel flapped Diva like wings and ran backwards using only an instant.

At the same time, several rays of light came from the tip of the wing form Diva and attacked Naggaroth.

Naggaroth made a short roar and wagged his tail. It will be too late if it made a wall anyways and-intuitively, Naggaroth sensed that it could not block this attack with its wings. The Beast used it own lightning bolts to intercept the approaching light. But, the numbers were too much. The lights beams it could not manage to handle, pierced into its body.

"Gu-ah...!"

Sharp pain. It didn't need to see it to know that is body has been pierced.

However, Mabel's attack did not lighten. The wings behind Mabel spread up, down, left, and right, after Mabel swung her hand from above straight downwards.

"[ Sword of Light ]!"

The same time Mabel shouted, the separated Diva dived freely around the sky as if it was equipped with its own will and released beams from all directions. It looked like Naggaroth was captured in a cage made by laser grids. What's more, it was a prison that was able to cause the Beast to cut through its bones and flesh if it touches the grids.

"Kuh.!"

Naggaroth swung its armored tail and struck down all the attacks that were continuously firing from all direction.

However, it was impossible to respond to all of it. Its back, wings and legs. All of those parts got a direct hit by the destructive beams and Naggaroth's hard scales got destroyed.

"Guh.,u, aah-"

It was going to get one-sidedly tormented at this rate. Naggaroth made a painful expression while glaring at Mabel before kicking the sky with all its strength.

Without even needing to block that charge, Diva added more devastating attacks towards Naggaroth but, it completely ignored that. Even if it received a direct hit to its stomach, even if its leg got shot through, Naggaroth did not look away from Mabel and continued rushing madly at Mabel.

"Uooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Naggaroth roared and unleashed seven dark element energy blasts upwards.

"Fuu-!"

However, there was no effect at all. The moment the black energy columns were about to touch Mabel, she turned to light and disappeared

resulting in dodging Naggaroth's attack. After an instant.

But—that was within Naggaroth's prediction. It continued using the upwards momentum and twisted its massive body in mid-air-

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Naggaroth used all its strength, and used its armored tail to whip Mabel the moment she reappeared in the air at hypersonic-speed.

"-Ka,hah.!?"

Mabel spat out painfully and distorted her face. Maybe she might have broken a tooth; one white fragment flew out from her mouth.

It was a full powered whip, straight from the Seven Headed Beast of Damnation - Naggaroth. Even if Mabel was a Apostle, the attack of that magnitude was enough to mash her skull to pieces.

Maybe she was unable to continuously turn to light; or maybe

she could not respond attacks she could not perceive, it might not know the details but-anyway, it managed to give Mabel a hit.

However, it was impossible to continue its attack there. While Mabel was swinging her head dizzily, she once again turned Diva into wings and back off from the spot again with high-speed.

From the ground, Naggaroth looked up at Mabel wiping the blood that came from her mouth. It gave quite some damage to Mabel but, it was clear that Naggaroth's wounds were more serious. If It continued fighting this way then, it was disadvantageous for Naggaroth since it had less moves.

Then— There was only one thing Naggaroth could do.

"Absolute Annihilation Sphere !"

In other words- It was going to slaughter everything from Mabel turning into light and the direction she dodges to in one go with it ultimate attack.

"Kuh— I underestimate you. Naggaroth, you deserve my full respect."

Mabel reverted Diva to its original crown shape from its wing form and pointed the tips downwards—towards Naggaroth.

Naggaroth could somehow understand the meaning of that.

Each of the blade tips had power enough to destroy it body. It was a grand attack with all of those cannons concentrating in one attack.

Mabel shouted and raised both her hands forward. When she did that, pure light started to concentrate on Diva tip.

"Diva —[ Crown Cannon ]!"

"Absolute Annihilation Sphere !"

Both of their shouts joined together.

The sky was pure white. The ground was giving off a mysterious light.

Both of their destructive moves with all of their mana were going to be fired from top and bottom.

At that very moment. Time seemed to have stopped drifting.

20 microseconds after detonation, the temperature was 600,000,000° F (300,000,000° C)-twenty times hotter than the center of the Sun.

Gamma radiation from the nuclear reactions already radiated up to 400 meters (1,300 feet) in every direction.

This enormous release of gamma radiation was absorbed by the surrounding air, heating it to a point where it released radiation itself.

This process formed a fireball-a glowing ball of gas-and decreased the energy of the radiation: from gamma rays to x-rays to ultraviolet, visible light, infrared (heat radiation), and radio waves.

In 0.0007 seconds the fireball was 130 meters (400 feet) across. Continuing to expand at many times the speed of sound, the fireball formed two distinct regions: the center remains extremely hot while the temperature of the outer part falls as it pushed the surrounding air away.

The heat radiated by the outer layer produces an initial flash of light as bright as the Sun to an observer 40 km (25 miles) away at 0.005 seconds after detonation.

The fireball brightness decreased until 0.08 seconds after detonation, when the fireball was as bright as the Sun to an observer 7.5 km (4.5 miles) away, and breakaway occurs: a blast wave separates from the fireball's surface.

The blast wave was an expanding sphere of highly compressed and fast moving air-similar to a sonic boom but much more powerful. Initially the blast wave travels at ten times the speed of sound. The wave pushes the air away before it so that a partial vacuum was created behind it.

Nineteen seconds after detonation.

Watching the charred corpse of Naggaroth, Mabel scream as loud as possible to ease her horrible pain from the explosion. "I win, I've won... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The explosion was a test of durability and regeneration of both of them and as the Apostle of Light and Order, Mabel had both elemental affinity and regeneration advantage compared to Naggaroth.

Refugee Transit Facility, The Phelan Plain, Human-Occupied Netherworld

Nurse Janice Haggerty woke up very carefully. She was in a great room, far larger than any hospital ward she had ever seen. There was a dull reddish light that was permeating through from outside, was this a tent? And where was she? The last thing she remembered was a tree leaping at her out of the darkness. Then, she looked down and realized she was on a hospital-style bed, naked and uncovered. She yelped and tried to cover herself with her hands.

"Don't worry, we're all like that here." A man on the next bed looked at her appreciatively and in a way that Haggerty found upsetting.

"He's wrong." Haggerty sighed with relief, a nurse had appeared, her face oddly obscured by a mask. Surely a little nurse-to-nurse professional courtesy could get her some clothes?

"Where are we?"

"We're in Netherworld or Hell or whatever. Yes, Hell is real and you're dead I'm afraid. If you're strong enough to walk, we need you to you outside to reception and task assignment. About one percent of all dead people from this world and a thousand other realities are coming through here and this place is only just large enough. Three of you every second arriving. Yes, you heard me right, alternate realities are real, everything is real now."

"Hell... a thousand other realities!?" Haggerty tried to wrap her mind around these concepts. It was hard to imagine there were that many realities out there. This was like some kind of bad science fiction.

"Yes, and its never going to end so please, hurry up and vacate this bed, we're going to need it soon."

"I'd like to rest for a while." It was the man on the next bed.

"I'm sure you would, but this is a temporary facility only. Just while you regain consciousness. Now, move on please, we need this bed."

Haggerty got up and, to her relief, found there was a hospital-style robe at the foot of the bed. She slipped it on and stepped through the opening, she had been right, the facility was a series of huge tents. Somewhere near was a powerful electric motor running. Ahead of her were lines of people forming and she joined what looked like the shortest one. The man who had been on the next bed pushed in front of her at the last moment. Netherworld seemed to have the same problems as Earth sometimes she reflected. Then, the woman sitting behind a computer screen. She looked at the man expressionlessly.

"Name and nationality?"

"George Tubshaw, British Commonwealth of North America."

"Cause of Death?"

"Choked on a pretzel."

"Any military service?"

"No, I always thought I could serve more effectively by working in the private sector." There was a snort from another line at that.

"Qualifications?"

"Degree in History of Folk Music."

The woman behind the computer pursed her lips and entered "Useless" into the field for qualifications.

"Very well Tubshaw, we're assigning you to a construction gang. Somebody will teach you how to hit nails with a hammer or use a spade. Next."

"But… I'm an administrator."

"Why didn't you say that before, what did you administer?"

"Well, a music appreciation course in community college."

"Construction gang. Next."

"Janice Haggerty, Union of Britain, No military service."

"What did you do Janice? And your cause of death?"

"I was a nurse. I was in a traffic accident. We'd been treating casualties from Weltkrieg Two, there were so many badly wounded people to look after. I must have fallen asleep driving home because the last thing I remember is a tree."

"A nurse. That's good. Do you fancy working with people recovered from the Terror-Pit? A lot of them are badly traumatized, they need sympathetic handling. You'd be doing a really needed job."

"Please, umm Miss, excuse me asking but…"

"The name is Fiona. Yes, I'm dead as well. I died in the Great Yellowstone Eruption of 1938. I wasn't as lucky as you, I spent the last century being drowned in a cess-pit until some weird humans from another reality rescued me. So, you see, I know how much you'll be needed. Thanks for helping Janice. Next."

Haggerty walked away, hearing the voice behind her. "Nguyen Huu Phai, Vietnamese, two years military service in the Imperial Mongol Foreign Volunteers Army. Died of snake-bite in Madagascar Front."

Imperial Mongol !? This really was another world!

"Right, the military authorities will want to speak with you. Please go over there and wait for a truck."

A truck, Haggerty thought, obviously the fuel shortage that permeated on her Earth during the Weltkrieg Two wasn't affecting this place, or at least not the Armies fighting in Hell. Overhead she heard the scream of jet aircraft and saw two white-painted military jets making their landing runs, their bleached-out roundels looked similar to the Luftstreitkräfte latest invention.

The damn V-229s that bombed London and their comrade the Commune of France, the German press had been full of their exploits before she had died. The German'd made it sound like the "White Ghosts" were winning the war single-handed. She chuckled, poor old Kaiser didn't know the Union of Britain would soon have their own jet aircraft thanked to their comrades on the other side of the Atlantic, the Syndicalist America.

There was a blast on a horn and she stopped short, the blacktop of a road was in front of her and she'd nearly stepped out in front of a huge tank. She looked around and saw a knight !? in a JLTV Oshkosh parked by the side of the road.

"Hey, you want to die twice in one day? Look where you're going girl. The tanks will squash you flat."

"I'm sorry, I've just… Can you tell me where the treatment area for people who have been recovered from the hell pit is?"

"Sure can. We'll be passing right by it. I'll drop you off, get in."

"Thank you." Haggerty climbed awkwardly into a JLTV Oshkosh. "Last time I was in a vehicle I went to sleep and that got me here. I'm Janice Haggerty, nurse."

"Knight Captain Erik Malcason, Holy Order of Eden. My battalion just got here."

"You're new here too?"

"Nah. Last time I fought here, this was all Chaos demon country. Now its just like downtown Bellnahgo. There's even a GreenSkin Tavern as if Netherworld wasn't bad enough on its own." The JLTV Oshkosh swerved through the column of tanks and dropped off the blacktop on to a dirt road.

"Terror-pit recoverees are just ahead. Some of them are in pitiful state. Been in torment so long they can't remember anything else. You gonna be doing a worthwhile thing there girl. Okay, this is your stop. Keep the faith."

Haggerty started. "What faith."

Malcason smiled broadly. "Why, faith in the 13 Gods, the Divine Emperor and Mighty Titan of course. What other faith could there be?"

1/33 Battalion, Third Brigade, Third Armored Division, Ninth U.S. Corps. North of Dis.

The trouble with the situation was that the whole of Ninth Corps was bogging down as it occupied more of the small farming villages on the outer fringes of Dis. Stevenson's own battalion was now split up between twelve such villages, controlling each of them although, in truth, not that much control was actually needed.

Most of the communities had got the message from the runners she had sent out sand simply laid down their arms, such as they were, when the tank shad appeared. A few of the lords had put up a fight and they were now dead. The rest had just accepted it was better to be alive and deposed than killed.

The good news was that the armored cavalry had pushed further north and reported that the villages had petered out and the rest of the territory was apparently unoccupied. As far as could be seen so far, demon inhabitation of Netherworld was concentrated within a relatively small radius of Dis. The rest of the single great continent was split up as the 'holdings' of the various great dukes but they'd done nothing with it. It was all very strange.

Stevenson strolled through the village that had become her base, looking at the Chaos demon farmers as they got on with their daily routine. They ignored the heavy tanks and IFVs that were parked around the buildings, intent on simply making sure they had food enough to eat.

A few Chaos demon kidlings were playing on a tank and over in one corner, a couple of her soldiers had gathered some older kidlings and were teaching them to play basketball.

It occurred to her that since she now had a dozen or so minor 'lords' reporting to her, that meant she was going up the ranks of the aristocracy as fast as she was through the ranks of the Army.

It was nice and quiet up here though. The aircraft were still pounding Dis last time she had heard, and most of the actual fighting was concentrated down there. With the airfields and logistics bases to the south of Dis, the areas to the north of the city had an almost bucolic charm to them.

That charm was interrupted when a V-44 swung overhead, its slung load pivoting as the pilot brought the tilt-rotor in. It was the extra rations she'd requisitioned for the villagers. The V-44 shifted back to forward flight and set off over the horizon. Peace and tranquil calm returned to the village.

Stevenson noted that the Chaos demons had paid little attention to the aircraft as it had made its delivery. Humand and their equipment were already becoming part of the environment.

"Colonel, you better come. Brigade is on the line."

She walked over to the radio shack, actually her command track with a tented enclosure at the back.

"Kilo-Alpha Actual Here."

"Kilo prime. Stevenson, are you sitting down?"

"Sir?"

"Got news for you. We whacked Abaddon and his pet just a few hours ago. No doubt about it, he's gone."

The news spread across the camp at a speed that comfortably exceeded the speed of light. Stevenson heard the cheering and looked over her shoulder. The local villagers were being just as enthusiastic as her troops.

"What does that mean Sir?"

"We've put our own guy in charge. Abigor, now President Abigor. You remember him, the football player?"

"For sure yes. So he's made President."

"More like President on a string. Anyway, the second thing he did was sue for peace. There's a ceasefire in place as of about an hour ago. The following is the word straight from Commander Nuttall. All offensive actions against the Chaos demons are to cease as of 1300 Zulu. Defensive only actions will be undertaken. Any hostile forces attacking your positions are to be killed in a friendly manner."

"So its all over Sir."

"No way. Our guess is that at least some lords will repudiate Abigor's lead and try to carry on. Belial is the leading candidate, he must understand we want his guts torn out. But, as far as organized resistance is concerned, that's over. Just try and make sure that none of your people are the last to die."

"Willco on that sir." Stevenson thought for a moment. "And there's always the Empire, isn't there?"

"That's right Stevenson, there's always the Empire."

Stevenson wished the Emperor could see this, to see how futile the fighting was, and decided to surrender like the demons here. That would save them a lot of lives for both sides. As if things could be that easy.

HMS Astute, Northern Seas, Off Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

"The American said the new Seabats were fast, they never said they were that fast." Captain Phillips looked up from the chart plot with irritation in his voice. "We're falling further behind all the time. How long until we're off the coast of Tartarus?"

Lieutenant-Commander Michael Murphy grimaced slightly. "We're not doing so bad ourselves, the old S and T boats couldn't hold speed like this. Even so, our ETA off Tartarus is in 30 hours. Unless, of course, we have to take a detour. We're in a deep water channel now but I've no idea how long we'll be able to use it."

Captain Phillips drummed the chart display with his fingers. "And I don't like charging around blind like this. We've got no idea what the topography is here, we could charge straight into an underground mountain. Just like that spam boat did a couple of years back. That was in an area that was pretty thoroughly charted. We've got no clue what's down here. We don't even know if it's like Earth or not."

"You get the feeling we're the guinea pigs for the big boys following behind?"

"That's exactly what I think. Florida and Georgia are thumping along behind us somewhere and my bet is we're doing the mapping for them. And all the subs are trailblazing for the carriers and amphibs. One good thing, at least the spam boats are already on station. So if there was anything really bad up there, we'd be getting word by now."

Murphy nodded, in complete agreement with his Captain. The plan was for Seabat and Typhoon, their torpedo rooms stuffed full of Tomahawk missiles, to stay way offshore while the Jimmy Carter went in and unloaded a group of special forces personnel.

They'd be doing beach surveys and preparing the way for the amphibious forces coming up. If Belial was still alive, and if he was planning to continue his lava attacks, the Tomahawks would be the first line of attack.

Not all the missiles had conventional warheads; the Chaos demons might believe their fortresses were tough but they'd never seen what a nuclear ground burst could do. The marines coming over the beach were the second act in the elimination of the threat to Earth's cities.

"Sixty hours then. And let's just hope we don't hit anything."

56th Stryker Brigade Combat Team, City of Dis. The Eye of Terror

The gates of Dis creaked mightily as they opened, the great bronze hinges squealing as the doors swung outwards. They pivoted slowly, opened by great winches powered by straining teams of orcs whose labors were soon to be ended.

What to do with the chaos orcs?

That was a very good question, one that human politicians hadn't even begun to get their minds around yet. The chaos orcs would be freed from their millenia of slavery, that was certain.

But how to go from there?

Nobody knew, it was just one more set of problems in a vast array that grew by the hour.

It had seemed so easy. Bust into Netherworld, trample on anybody who gets in the way and free the dead held in torment. And still the list of problems still grew longer by the hour.

Still, that was something the soldiers in the field didn't have to worry about. Their job was to win the war and they'd done just that. The gates swinging open in front of them were proof of the victory. They'd taken humanity's oldest, most fundamental enemy and crushed them. Now, the city gates were swinging open in homage to the victors.

Colonel Chisholm waved his arm in the traditional cavalry gesture and his command Stryker eased forward. The information from Abigor, backed up by the product from the photo-reconnaissance aircraft had been that the streets in Dis were narrow and poorly surfaced.

Too narrow for the Type-92 tanks and Black Knight IFVs to pass so the job of being the first American unit into Netherworld had fallen to the 28th Mechanized Infantry Division, Pennsylvania National Guard (Federalized). Along with America's other infantry divisions, the 28th had been reorganized with three Stryker Brigades and a single armored brigade and was ideally suited to the move into Dis.

Inside Dis, Chisholm was reminded of films he'd seen set in the medieval era. Same kind of buildings, cobbled streets, highly suspect sanitation. The strikers were moving slowly, edging through the clutter than lined the roads and alleyways, the crews keeping a sharp look-out. Dis might have surrendered, the government here might have changed hands but that didn't mean the war was over.

There were a lot of Iraq veterans in the 56th who knew full well that 'end of major combat operations' was not the same as 'peace'. Too many people had forgotten that and not come back. If there was going to be a firefight, the Strykers were going to be ready to give out as much punishment as necessary.

"Any word from the Russians?"

"Some Sir. They're not hitting any opposition either."

Chisholm nodded. This was a delicate, dicey operation. The humans were coming in as conquerors, they wanted to be perceived as liberators, as the people who would make things better. Flattening half the city was not a good way to start.

The Israelies had been politely but firmly excluded from the initial occupation for exactly that reason. Their instant response doctrine was just that bit too vigorous for this particular situation. There were other situations where their operational doctrine would be appropriate, but not here, not now.

Around them, the Demons were watching. Mostly females and kidlings, the latter sometimes making shy, quick waves at the troops passing. That was a worry, a wave could easily be mistaken for a throw, and that wave could easily turn into a real attack.

Despite the apparent calm, Chisholm could feel his stomach knotting up. This was the real danger, nerves would tighten and tighten until they suddenly snapped and somebody did something very stupid.

"Sir, over there!" Chisholm heard the call and very nearly did something very stupid with his Mark 47 grenade launcher. But, it hadn't been an attack warning, instead the private was pointing at a female with pink skin and blonde hair.

A human female. Chisholm held up his hand and the column stopped. Then he waved the woman over. She came out of the shadows and knelt by the Stryker, looking down at her feet.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? And stand up, stop grovelling."

"Balthechildis, Noble Sire." The woman rose to her feet, unsteadily, tentatively. Even when standing she still looked down, avoiding the eyes of the men in the armored vehicles.

"Why are you here?" Chisholm tried to moderate his voice, who knew what this woman had suffered during her stay here?

"And I'm not a Noble Sire. I'm a Colonel. Colonel James Chisholm."

"I am a servant No… Colonel. In the house of Anthrapixicatis. I was brought here when I first came."

"Are there others like you? Servants of … the demons?"

"Some, Colonel, those who wanted human servants took them when we arrived."

"And how long ago was that? Where did you come from?"

"I do not know how long Colonel, I was a wife in a Frankish settlement of the Danemark. I died in childbed."

"This Anthra what you called him. Did he treat you well?"

"Yes Colonel. I was not whipped too often."

Chisholm wanted to say something but he changed his mind. Too many problems could start that way. "Very well, Balthechildis, you don't belong to him any more. Go outside the city, follow the vehicles along back to the gate. Outside are some people who will help you. You're free now."

The woman obediently started walking back the way Chisholm had indicated. Beside him, the vehicle sergeant spoke very softly. "He treated her well, didn't whip her too often. What sort of place is this?"

"This is Hell, Sergeant, you know that. And I guess Stockholm syndrome works down here as well. Think about hit from her point of view, being a servant up here must be a prime choice compared with what goes on in the pit. Roll forward."

He flipped on his radio for transmission to Division HQ. "Sun-Ray Alpha Actual Here. Spread the word, there are humans in Dis, servants and others. Keep a watch for them and send them out to the reception teams when we spot them."

The message went out and a few seconds later his radio came alive again. "Sun-Ray Alpha Actual, this is Sun-Ray Prime. Be advised your earlier message is confirmed. Russian, British and Czech units all report finding humans in apparently menial positions."

The voice on the other end sounded as if it was trying to stop laughing. "Lead elements of the French cavalry division report they have found what appears to be a bordello staffed with humans."

"Trust the French to find a brothel." One of the troopers in the command Stryker looked around at the sordid streets of Dis reflectively.

"That we should be so lucky."

The vehicle procession started again, the crews scanning the ever-growing number of faces watching from the buildings. Eventually they came to a large open area, backed by a second wall, one thinner and lower than the great outer wall.

From behind it, plumes of smoke, faint but discernable, were rising. The heat was noticeable, not quite burning his face but giving him the same feeling he had when he's been out in the sun too long.

Chisholm looked at his map just to confirm what his eyes had just told him. "This is it people. The other side of that wall is the Terror Pit.

Now, our problems really start."

City of Dis. The Eye of Terror

The JLTV Oshkosh drove down the street, the center of a convoy of five vehicles. The first pair contained troops from DIMO(N), the fourth was a communications truck, the last contained more troops.

The center vehicle contained Sister Sisse Peterdottir of the Falmartian Orthodox Church and a mass of electronic equipment. Every so often, her mind reached out, amplified by the electronics and touched a mind she knew all too well. This extermination mission was personal and today, she would end it all.

"He is here Jack. I can feel it. In that building over there."

"Got it ma'am." The convoy came to a halt and the troops started to dismount, their M25 plasma rifles swinging into firing position with comfortable ease. It had been quite a long time since they had fired really heavy bullet like the cumbersome 20mm caliber round.

Sisse dismounted also, touching her chest to make sure the Flair medallion that stood between her and madness was still in place. For the past 50 year, this magic medallion had protected her sanity from the dark force of Netherworld. Thus, it had become her inseparable item.

The soldiers kicked the door of the house down without any real effort. It was flimsy, a nothing when matched with steel boots. Inside a group of demons, some male, some female, cowered at the sight of humans with guns. They knew what guns were now, there wasn't a family in Dis that hadn't lost many of its males to humans with guns.

"Domiklespharatu. Where is he?" Sisse rapped the words out, impatiently, angrily.

She was carrying a modified Desert Eagle handgun, chambered for . 75 AE ammunition. It was a very popular hand gun these days for people who liked semi-automatic pistols. People who liked revolvers tended to go for the Smith and Wesson 500.

Then she looked around the house. It wasn't what she had expected. She'd thought Domiklespharatu was a prince living in a great palace somewhere, not a hut that was barely more than a hovel.

A slightly better hovel than those around it, agreed, but still a hovel.

Across the room, one of the females gasped, another pointed to a curtain-covered doorway.

Sisse went through it, brushing the dirty curtain to one side.

"Remember me Domiklespharatu? Remember what…"

Then she stopped. It was Domiklespharatu all right, but he was as little as she had imagined as this house had been. He was cowering against a wall, shaking with fear, his eyes already beginning to glaze over.

As she watched, he started to lose control of his bowels, urinating on the floor in sheer panic. And it was hardly surprising, Domiklespharatu was barely a half-grown kidling.

"It was a game, it was just a game," he was whimpering with fear, trying to drop to his knees to grovel in front of her yet he had lost the muscle control needed to do it.

"Just a game." Sisse looked at him with loathing. All the misery she had endured for years was 'just a game'. "And you think that made it all right."

She lifted up her Desert Eagle, feeling the comfortable bulk of it in her hands. She had dreamed of this ever since her magic medallion had brought her sanity back.

Domiklespharatu looked down the bore, his mind seeing it grow by the second. "My father said it was all right. He gave you to me to play with. It was just a game. Please, I didn't know you'd…"

"You didn't know I'd come here. You didn't know you would have to face what you did to me."

That did it. Domiklespharatu lost whatever was left of his composure and burst into child-like crying.

Sisse stared at him, her gun still aimed, held steadily in the approved two-handed grip. 'It was just a game', the words running through her mind. As if that made it all right.

Then she thought some more, about the cat-people on Falmart, who thought that adding 'just kidding' to the end of a phrase made everything all right, no matter how rude or offensive they'd been.

Or the infamous Kitsune race, who thought that they could do what they liked to people's lives because they'd never have to face the victims of their 'games'. Were they actually that different from Domiklespharatu?

If she killed this one, shouldn't she kill them as well? She thought of one friend of hers whose life had nearly been wrecked by a Kitsune who'd tricked him into doing a highly illegal thing. Wasn't he just as bad as Domiklespharatu?

The Desert Eagle was still aimed at the sniveling wreck on the floor. Quietly, one of the DIMO(N) troopers stood behind Sister Peterdottir, watching her aiming the pistol at the demon child.

"Is that really worth a bullet ma'am. Bit of a waste if you ask me."

"You didn't have him in your mind for all those years Jack. You didn't have him tearing at you, wrecking you. If it hadn't been for Lady Mizari and all the other Sisters of the Holy Order who sorted this thing out, I'd still be like that."

Then she sighed and the barrel of the Desert Eagle lowered. "But you're right. He's not worth it."

Sisse Peterdottir walked over and spat on Domiklespharatu. A rather unladylike action for a nun like her but understandable.

"We won, you little piece of shit. Just like I told you, we came for you and we never stopped and we won. And when we did, you weren't worth the effort of killing. Just remember that, Domiklespharatu that you weren't worth the effort of twitching my finger and blowing your brains all over that wall."

Sisse then turned and left the house, sliding into the front passenger seat of the JLTV Oshkosh. "You know Jack, that felt good."

Underground Fortress of Palelabor, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

Belial was in an expansive mood. In the five days since the demonstration of his new Great Tridents, the workshops had produced half a thousand more, each with a naga assigned to it. Perhaps the disaster at the second portal had been a good thing after all, it had left a good number of crippled naga that were fit for little more than power sources. They could all be used up in powering his new weapons.

Entering the Great Hall of his fortress, Belial saw something that made him freeze in his tracks. A figure, only marginally smaller than he was, with great wings that stretched out. Most of his court was prostrate on the ground in front of it.

"Belial." The great voice boomed out, shaking the stone walls of the fortress.

"I am here Messenger of Abaddon." There was no mistaking who this creature was. One of the surviving Greater Heralds, a member of the Corps of Diabolical Heralds.

"No Belial, Not a Messenger of Abaddon." The Greater Herald explained.

"Here me now. Abaddon is dead. The Lord Abigor now rules in his place. By my Lord Abigor's ruling, the war with the humans is over. The City of Dis has surrendered and even now the humans move in to occupy it. My Lord Abigor commands you to lay down your arms and surrender to the humans."

"The war is lost, the fighting must end. So says my Lord Abigor." The Greater Herald crashed a staff down on the floor, sending chips of stone flying.

NEVER!

Belial's voice thundered around the hall, causing a stir of alarm from the assembled court.

"It is His Infernal Majesty Abigor's will." The Greater Herald spoke what was to him a simple truth not to be countermanded.

"Abigor is a traitor, a coward who surrendered to save his own life. Now he is a mindless puppet of the humans. I say he is unfit to rule. I spit upon his will and his commands. If Our Rightful Lord Abaddon has died, then it is I, I who was his favorite, I who was the only one to strike a blow against the humans, I who shall assume his throne."

"So you may claim. But Abigor occupies the throne and has been acclaimed as ruler of Netherworld. He has challenged any who might disagree not to argue it with him but to do so with the humans. Those same humans who have destroyed every army in Netherworld at trifling cost to themselves. They stand behind Abigor now. And I note that the Adamantine Fortress has already been the subject of their wrath. It looks a little damaged from the experience. Submit Belial. And make your peace with the humans. My message ends."

Belial looked at the Greater Herald and then looked at the Great Trident beside him, one that had just been delivered and was fitted with a naga in place and was charged up. His foot reached out and he kicked it so the barrel was in line with the Herald. One closed contact and the bolt flashed out, striking the Greater Herald full in the chest.

The creature went down, its chest torn open, its blood already starting to burn its flesh. There was an awed silence in the great hall, nobody, dared to kill the Greater Heralds. Unless they were human of course, they killed everything that got in their way, Greater Heralds included.

But demons never killed the personal representatives of the rulers of Netherworld. Belial looked at the audience and measured his power. It was growing fast and had just been confirmed.

"So perish all traitors to Netherworld. Surrender? Never. My orders from Abaddon were to destroy human cities and that is what we shall do. This Herald of the Traitor Abigor has received my reply to his insulting message. Now the humans shall receive my reply to theirs. Their cities shall burn. Yulupki, the chorus is ready?"

"It is Sire, although two more days…"

"Will be two days too long. We move out tomorrow at dawn. Are the shrines at Okthuura Jorkastrephas ready?"

"They are."

"Then there is no reason to wait. My first act as the new ruler of Netherworld will be to bring the humans to their knees. I say this again, their cities will burn. This is their legacy from Abaddon just as my supreme power is his legacy to me."

Belial gazed around the great hall again, drinking in his new-found power and status. His planning and scheming had worked better than he had any right to expect. With Abaddon dead and Abigor a traitor, all hell would rally to him. From a humble and forgotten count to the Supreme Ruler, the Infernal Majesty of Netherworld, he had much to thank the humans for. Not that he intended to show any gratitude for their services to him of course.

Camp Hell-One, Hellgate, Lemuria, Falmart

Lieutenant-General Tommy Kennedy stared at the pile of additional work he had taken on forlornly. "I hope that cunt is worth it, you lolicon bastard! Keep sleeping with those fantasy women and one day you will have STDs." Tommy mumbled. He shuddered and tucked the papers beneath his arm continuing on his way.

As he picked up lunch, Major-General Lee Eun-Sung stopped beside him and whispered, "Is it true? the General —"

"I'm not talking about this. Hopefully, he'll return to his senses by the end of the week." Of course that wouldn't happen. The universe hated him, and Itami existed to tempt fate with all the weird shits he was getting himself into. Could he mark this in the bad luck column?

"That bastard's going to have a harem, isn't he?"

Lee sighed exasperatedly and left, mumbling insults under his breath. Tommy waited until he rounded the corner before heading the opposite direction and entering the large conference room. A dozen other officers were already there, gossiping in quiet tones and work strewn between their plates.

The coffee was already empty—an ominous sign.

"Does General Itami really go alone with the Apostles?" Colonel Kurata asked.

"It hasn't even been a day. How?" Tommy collapsed in the closest seat and glared at the empty pot of coffee. "Did you sweep the room?"

"Yes. Found two bugs." Takeo grinned. "Someone saw the General and Lelei went AWOL last night with two apostle. Half the Base knows by now."

"Never underestimate the power of the rumor mill," chimed Colonel Kuribayashi—her bubbly personality hid a devastatingly competent mind.

Tommy glared at them and set the jammer on the table. They relaxed at the extra bit of security. What they were discussing was scandalous. A handful of newer officers nervously entered, avoiding his gaze as they took the seats furthest away.

Passing out a piece of paper, Lieutenant-General Tommy circled the room. "Write down everyone you have told and how they reacted. I'll arrange meetings with them in the coming week to check in on them."

"Barely had time to take a shit, much less talk to someone," Colonel Sasagawa grumbled. He massaged his shoulder. "I'm too old for this shit.

Hills Around The Underground Fortress of Palelabor, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

"Team-One reporting in Sarge, there's life down there." Cassidy shifted her position on the rocks and steadied her binoculars on the gates concealed in the canyon walls.

Whoever had built the approach had done a fine job of concealing it, the canyon itself had a narrow entrance that was lost in the folds of the rock.

It was narrow, so much so that the Demons had difficulty using it. Behind that restricted path, the canyon opened up but the rocks had a marked overhang and shadowed the gates that lay underneath them.

Even then, those gates were masked by more variations in the rock walls. Somebody stumbling across the canyon would have to go almost to the farthest end before the gates became visible. McElroy's team had steered reconnaissance aircraft in over the site and they hadn't seen a thing. Even using the battery of image modification technologies available, the underground fortress was virtually invisible.

"What's happening?" Tucker McElroy crawled up to the observation position. His team was split in two parts, one was watching the gates themselves, the other the path that led away from the canyon towards the daughter-volcanoes that marked the flanks of the great cone overhead.

"Can't see anything yet. Team One reports that the gates have opened and that there appears to be some sort of procession emerging but.. hold one Sarge." Cassidy listened to the radio again.

"Make that a definite on the procession emerging. Demons on foot, rhinolobsters with a burden, looks like those snake things, Nagas intel called them. They're going down the canyon now, we should be seeing them soon."

"Good. DeVanzo, get the laser sight set up. Cassidy, stay on watch, let me know as soon as that procession appears. Walsch, radio. Patch me through to Saber."

It took a couple of minutes to get through to Saber, the duty submarine on Communications watch. As far as McElroy knew, there were three submarines offshore who rotated radio watch between them. All used the Saber code-name as required and there was no indication which boat was actually answering.

"Saber. Sitrep?" Submarines didn't like transmitting, it ran against their collective ethos and the messages were terse.

"We have activity, procession now leaving the underground fortress. From intel, it looks like another volcano attack being initiated. We are setting up the laser target designator now."

"Confirmed. Wait." The radio went silent for a couple of minutes.

"Ready to launch. Four Hundred and Eighty cruise ready. Half and half. ETA 15 minutes from launch. Indicate when firing is needed." The radio went dead again.

"Right guys. As soon as we give the word, there will be Four Hundred and Eighty Tomahawks inbound. Cassidy, any sight of the target yet?" In just a few seconds, the procession had become a target.

"Emerging through the canyon now Sarge. Confirming, Demons on foot with tridents, rhinolobsters with, confirmed Sarge, they have nagas coiled on their backs."

"Saber, confirm target is volcano-initiating party. Fire when ready."

"On the way."

The seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. Ten minutes after the launch confirmation, DeVanzo turned his laser designator to active and trained the dot on the ground just in front of the column that was advancing across the plain towards the volcanoes about twelve miles away. McElroy was amused to note that they'd be passing the ruins of their previous home on the way. If they lived that long of course.

"Remember not to shine the laser on the Demons until after the missiles start to arrive." McElroy's voice was urgent, the Demon's skin was sensitive to laser light and shining it on them might give them enough warning to get clear.

"I know that" DeVanzo spoke irritably, annoyed at the interruption disturbing his concentration. He was holding the designation dot just in front of the feet of the leading Demon. He'd flip it back as soon as he heard the Tomahawks making their run.

He didn't get that much warning, the first group of sixty missiles skimmed over the hill to their east and started the run down towards the column before he could register their presence. Originally, the Tomahawks had been GPS-guided but the Global Positioning System didn't work in the Eye of Terror and it was looking increasingly unlikely that it ever would.

The older option, radar terrain mapping and matching required accurate maps of the target area and those would come eventually, but not now. So, for want of a better choice, the missiles had been modified to use laser designation.

The first salvo of sixty missiles had unitary warheads and the explosion of the 1000 pound charges enveloped the head of the column in rolling orange-red fireballs. Through her binoculars, Cassidy saw the Demons start running sideways trying to get away from the onslaught they knew had to come.

Word from the survivors of Abigor's and Beelzebub's armies had spread fast, when the humans started shooting with their missiles, the only way to survive was to run far and fast. And so they did, or they tried to. Cassidy swung her binoculars back on to the great Rhinolobsters.

They had been abandoned on the track and the magnification of her binoculars allowed her to see the great beasts swinging their heads around, looking for an enemy to gore, while the terrified nagas on their backs screamed and tried to struggle free.

That's when the second wave of sixty Tomahawks hit. DeVanzo had switched his point of aim back along the column and the sixty missiles sensed the change of aiming point and lifted their nose just a little. In a straight line, about 100 yards between each missile, the sixty weapons of death soared straight over the shattering Demon column and started to distribute their submunitions.

The launching submarines hadn't known what the warhead requirements would be so they'd loaded their 240 tubes with 120 missiles with submunitions and 120 with unitary warheads. The skippers had alternated the loads as they'd emptied their tubes but the spotting team on the ground didn't know that. Each type came as a nice surprise.

It wasn't so nice for the demons on the receiving end. The first sixty explosions had blown the leading demons into unrecognizable chunks of flesh and bone, then the submunitions had scythed down the others as they ran. The only thing that saved some of them was that the missiles were too spaced out and the coverage too thin to blanket the area the way and MLRS salvo would have done.

Cassidy smacked DeVanzo's arm and pointed to the group of Rhinolobsters. He swung the laser designation spot on to them and held it there while the third wave of missiles slammed their unitary warheads into the great beasts. Even far away, on the hills, McElroy's team heard the animals screaming as the warheads blasted them.

DeVanzo held his designator on the same spot, directing the fourth salvo of missiles so that their submunitions would cover the area just pounded by the blast of the high explosive charges. The nagas were the creatures that opened the sky volcanoes, they were the primary target. The other Demons were just meat on the table, footsloggers who found themselves in the target area. Slaughtering them was a bonus but not really necessary.

In his heart, DeVanzo found himself feeling slightly sorry for them, the war was over but they were still going to die because their boss was too dumb or too stubborn to admit it. Reflecting on it as the fourth wave of missiles blanketed the Rhinolobsters, DeVanzo decided that it was just too bad.

A group of Demons were running south, towards where the team had their position. It wasn't an attack, the Demons had no idea what was killing them let alone where it was being done from, it was just plain bad luck on their part.

DeVanzo designated them and watched the fifth and sixth salvos of missiles tear into their ranks and send them stumbling into the ground. Then, a final switch to another group who still seemed to have some level of organization and it was all over.

McElroy looked down on the devastation that lay in the valley underneath his position. "Well, that livened up a dull morning didn't it."

Valley Leading To Palelabor, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

Belial couldn't quite believe he was still alive. He'd been on the edge of the bombing that destroyed Abaddon's palace, he'd seen the shattered remnants of Beelzebub's army retreating from the Phlegethon River but he'd never been under the relentless hammer of the human war machine before.

He was stunned by the enormity of the attack, but even more so by its impersonal, faceless nature. The humans didn't fight, they just stood far away and destroyed their enemies by remote control. He felt hatred surging, uncontained, within him.

The humans had been his route to greatness, his attacks on them had won him favor with Abaddon and now lifted him further than he'd ever dared hope he'd rise. Now, their machines were tearing him down again.

Around him, the survivors of his column were picking themselves up and trying to make sense of the carnage that surrounded them. Some went to help wounded friends who lay helpless on the ground, their bodies slashed by the deep gouges that were the marks of human weapons.

Not all could be helped for the humans used enchanted adamant in their weapons and adamant was poison. Enough of his minions had died in the mines of Palelabor from adamant-poisoning to show how deadly that particular aspect of human weapons was.

Then, Belial looked at the center of his column, where the Beasts and their Naga burdens had been caught on the road. They were dead, all of them. Blown apart then the survivors cut up by the humans. There were no survivors, none. They were all dead and that meant the attacks on human cities were over for there were too few nagas left to open the portals.

It was over, he would have to think of a new way to continue this war for it was only by continuing the war that his rise to power could be confirmed and yet more power gathered into his claws. He would have to think of a new way, Euryale would help him.

Quietly, Belial gave thanks that she had not been here to fall under the human onslaught for he needed her support and insight.

"We will return to Palelabor. Bring along those who can recover." Belial set off, unknown to him, watched by Baroness Yulupki who had managed to slide off her Beast in time to worm her way under the rocks and so protect herself from the explosions and slashing adamant fragments.

She would not jointhe sad procession back to Palelabor, Belial thought she was dead and it was better that way. Now she could quietly leave his retinue and find a way to get back into the changing world of Hell.

Belial's column, the healthy and the wounded, the latter supported by other demons, wended their way though the twisting canyon that led to the valley that was their final refuge. They'd left barely an hour before, on their way to inflict another great blow against humans. Now all they needed was shelter.

Belial led the way back, down the valley and then turned to approach the gates that marked the entrance to Palelabor. Those gates were still closed, and Belial quietly gave thanks for Euryale's common sense in closing them as soon as she'd heard the explosions of the strike that had wrecked his column.

"Open Up, Your Master Awaits." His voice boomed out, echoing across the valley.

The reply was sudden and deadly, a barrage of lightning bolts slashed out from the firing ports in the walls around the gates, tearing into the survivors of his column, cutting them down as they stood motionless, in shock.

Then, the spell broke.

Some ran, trying to escape from the vicious crossfire, others attempted to charge their tridents and return fire. Both were futile, there was nowhere to run to and the demons inside the fortress were behind firing slits, protected from all but the luckiest of shots.

Belial knew what was happening, there were three demons behind every slit, two charging tridents and the third firing them. The result was a steady rain of fire that decimated what was left of his force.

"Euryale!" His voice echoed again and this time there was a sense of hopelessness in it.

Hills Around The Underground Fortress of Palelabor, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

"Team-One reporting in Sarge. You're going to love this." He ought to, Cassidy thought, she did. "The survivors got back to the fortress and the garrison first slammed the gates in their face and then opened fire on them.

Team-One says it's a massacre down there. The Demons outside are being cut to pieces. There's a big one, he must be the Belial we heard about I guess, just standing there and shouting something."

McElroy nodded. "Tell Team-One to watch and report. I'll radio this in."

Outside Palelabor, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

"Euryale!" Belial called again, but there was no answer. For the second time in an hour, he couldn't understand while he was still alive.

There was no sign of her, she must have been imprisoned, there must have been some kind of coup while he was with the column. Then his heart sank for he knew that in Netherworld coups never involved taking the deposed prisoner, they were always killed.

Euryale had to be dead, She had to be.

The fire around him slackened and he saw movement on the gallery over the gate, artfully carved so that it fitted in with the natural contours of the rock. There was a flash of gold up there, and Belial adjusted his vision for long distance. It was Euryale, standing on the gallery, her wings folded behind her.

"Euryale, you're alive!"

She looked down at him; Belial wasn't certain whether he actually heard the words, read her lips or received a thought transmission but its words were clear.

"Kill him."

The warning was just enough. Concentrating all of his magic on his legs, Belial dived for cover at lightning speed as a hail of lightning bolts slashed at the rocks where he had been standing. He took cover, feeling one bolt tear into his wing tissue. Not a serious wound for a Grand Duke of Hell, it took many lightning bolts to kill a Greater Demon. He wormed his way behind the rocks, sensing the relentless battering of the massed trident fire that was aimed at him.

When he'd got clear enough he took the chance of looking. Euryale was standing on the gallery still, directing the barrage of fire against likely hiding places. Beside her was one of his new Great Tridents, a naga strapped to it. Belial didn't kid himself that it wasn't fully charged.

Then Euryale saw him, she must have had her vision set for long distance as well, and the Great Trident was aimed straight at him. Again, Belial dived and rolled, trying to get clear and escape from this murderous ambush. The Great Trident bolt hit exactly where he had been, shattering rocks and sending fragments tearing into him.

"Euryale!" Belial's voice was closer to being a sob than anything else.

Belial knew there was only one chance, he had to get out of the killing ground before the Great Trident was recharged. He leaped up to his feet and started running, ignoring the lightning bolts that hissed around him, paying no attention to the one that hit his back.

He was running from battle, something no Great Duke ever did and the thought of it shamed him. It was the human's fault, all the human's fault. They'd disrupted his plans, they'd stopped his rise to power, they'd resisted him, defied him. They'd turned Euryale against him.

At that point, instinct made Belial dive suddenly to one side and roll over. The Great Trident bolt again hit exactly where he had been had he not made that dive. With luck, he'd be out of range before the machine was charged again. There were more thuds as lightning bolts from normal tridents hit him and he could feel the injuries taking their toll.

He was weakening, slowing but he had to keep running. There was a point in the hills where the slopes were not so steep, where he could climb his way out. He dived again, this time around a fold in the rock and he was, at last, out of the killing zone. He had survived, somehow.

Belial's mind didn't really appreciate the fact that he had, yet again, survived. It was too filled with hatred for the humans who had done this thing to him.

All he could think of was revenge, revenge for the destruction, revenge for his fall when he had so nearly reached the apex of power in hell. Revenge for taking Euryale from him.

It had to be human magic, it had to be human magery, some unknown power they had that he was not aware of. Had not her handmaiden said the humans had other weapons they had not used yet?

"Euryale." Belial moaned the word, the pain of his wounds seeping slowly through the red fog of rage and grief in his mind. He didn't know what the humans had done to her but he would have his revenge. Even if it killed him.

His breath recovered, Belial started off on his escape from Palelabor. One thing nagged at him, The Eye of Terror had fallen to the humans, his was the last outpost of resistance.

Where was he to go, what we he to do?

The questions nagged his mind as he staggered across the valley and climbed out of the valley. As darkness fell, all he could think of was the sight of that golden figure on the gallery and the words "Kill Him."

Fortress of Palelabor, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

"It is done as you ordered, Chatelaine." Euryale looked at the major-domo of the fortress.

"They are all dead?"

"All of them Chatelaine. All those who remained loyal to Belial are dead. It was a cunning move to put most of them in his column to the volcano. May I ask, how did you know the humans would be there?"

"The humans are the Lords of War, nothing is beyond them. They destroyed the Adamantine Fortress, that showed they knew who was responsible for the attacks on their cities. They shut down the two volcano portals, showing they knew how to do it. It was certain they were watching us in case we started a third. And if they were watching us, they knew how to kill us. I did not know how they did it, but they would. And they did. Now, are all our people well-briefed?"

"Yes Chatelaine. Belial seized your fortress and imprisoned you and those loyal to you. Then he and his people set about their evil schemes. It was a time of great hardship but we managed to plot our escape and recover the fortress. We have stopped Belial's plans for more attacks and killed those responsible. Now, we wish to surrender to the humans who killed those who treated us so brutally."

"Very good. Make sure everybody remembers it. For the survival of us all depends on our being seen as Belial's victims."

"I'll make sure of it Chatelaine." The major-domo replied before leaving.

H. Q UK Special Forces Support Group, Camp Brimstone, Netherworld.

Colonel (D) David Stirling watched the comings and goings around him with interest; he had taken in the various cap badges associated with the SFSG, the majority of the group wore the maroon beret of the Parachute Regiment, the next biggest group wore the green beret of the Royal Marines, while he had also noticed the blue beret of the RAF Regiment and a number of other cap badges, including the Royal Engineers, Royal Signals and Royal Logistics Corps.

Men from his own regiment, the SBS and this new regiment, the Special Reconnaissance Regiment could occasionally be seen visiting the headquarters on a variety of errands.

While it was clear that the modern soldier was not a whole lot different from those of the past what had amazed Colonel Stirling was how much communications technology had improved in the fourty years since he had died. The ability to send text and pictures as well as voice communications in a few seconds was incredible as was the development in computer technology and neural interface in what was, after all a very short time.

The H. Q was full of small thin portable computers known as 'iPad', many of which showed information being sent back from radio controlled drones, which those controlling them insisted on calling Unmanned Air Vehicles, evidently the military habit of giving something simple a long complicated name had not disappeared since he had left the army.

As well as being home to the H. Q UK Special Forces Support Group Camp Brimstone was also the rear logistics base for all British units assigned to the Allied Rapid Reaction Corps and it was also the base from which the British had launched their power-play into Charles Zi Augustus's growing territory and to where 2 PARA battle group had been recovered to once the fighting was over.

Stirling had also observed that logisticians had not changed a great deal either. He was also interested to see that while the technology inside was radically different the latest Main Battle Tank, the Type 47 Sheridan, was not radically different in configuration from the Chieftains he remembered in the last decade of his life on Earth.

Actually the British Army had managed to get enough old Chieftains running to form an RAC training regiment and had managed to get hold of quite a number of old Challenger 1s from a decimated Jordanian Army.

"Good day, Colonel Stirling, I hope you are being well looked after?" Colonel Dempsey asked cheerfully.

"I've few complaints, Colonel Dempsey, apart from the fact that I feel my talents are being a little underused." Stirling replied.

"The improvements in biochemical technology in the last few years have been pretty impressive; things like: 8942-LQ99 'carbide ceramic ossification catalyst' to make skeletons become virtually unbreakable, allowing survival in harder impacts, 88005-MX77 'fibroid muscular protein complex' to increased density of individual's muscles thus greatly enhancing physical strength or 88947-OP24 'retina-inversion stabilizer' to significantly improve color sharpness and night vision or the 87556-UD61 'improved colloidal neural disunification solution' to greatly improve the individual's reaction time, decreasing the time taken to react by 3 times; with magic drugs like that perhaps men like me are hopelessly out of date."

"Dr. Catherine Halsey is a true genius, she is basically the Einstein of biological augmentation. Project ARES is her brainchild. This is just the beginning, soon we will flood the battlefield with millions of super soldiers."

"Anyway the reason I came was to give you this." Dempsey said with a smile holding up a bottle of single malt whisky and two glasses.

"Ah, now that is a sight for sore eyes." Stirling replied. "I wonder if it's still possible for a dead person to get drunk?"

"I can't think of a better opportunity to find out." The Commanding Officer of 22 ARES told the deceased SAS Commanding Officer. "I'd be honored to research that problem with you."

Stirling smiled. "I'd be more than happy to drink with any commander of the special forces, Colonel Dempsey."

"The pleasure is mine. But, I'm afraid we have business to discuss as well. The Netherworld War is over, the major combat operations part of it anyway. What's left is peace keeping, not that such operations can't be trouble enough."

"I know, I've whiled away the hours reading the files on Iraq. Idiots."

"Can't blame the American, not really. They were hit by a manpower shortage and they needed to know if there was a way of doing things that economized on manpower. There wasn't, they just took time to realize it."

"Not just the Yanks, everybody. Including us. So, if the war here is over, what's next?"

Colonel Dempsey leaned back and sipped his whiskey. "We finish off our former enemy, the Holy Empire. Do you have any ideals?"

Randi Randi Institute of Pneumatology, The Pentagon, Arlington, VA

James Randi looked around the empty office and sighed. It had been fun while it lasted but his part in The Hell War was over.

His brief had been to filter the world's population of mediums, psychics and other 'supernaturalists' to see if any of them really had useful talents. He'd tried to do that once with his Million Dollar Prize and failed, the big names had refused to come anywhere near him and the small fry had been winnowed out early.

Then The Hell War had started and he'd had the U.S. Secret Service, the FBI and eventually Interpol and every intelligence organization in the world working to find likely suspects.

Those that had been reluctant to submit to rigorous scientific testing had been dragged in by whatever force was needed.

None of them had qualified, not one.

Of all the 'names' that had dominated the 'psychic' industry before the War had started, not a single one had shown any genuine ability to contact the hellish dimension, or anywhere else for that matter.

Randi grinned to himself, the courts were blocked with law suits, some individual, some class actions, brought against the fake psychics for fraud and extortion by their victims. They were all using his Institute's test results and the damages being awarded to their victims was mounting satisfactorily. The work he had started with the James Randi Educational Foundation had born fruit at last.

With it, the need for his Institute had gone.

The existence of a 'world after death' had been proven but it wasn't a matter of faith or religion. It was just another plane of existence, one that had been predicted by scientific theory but never proven.

Well, now it had been proven scientifically and science was showing the way to understanding what was going on there. Humans understood the Netherworld dimension a bit, there were human tanks and artillery sitting in the central plaza of Dis to prove that.

The Hellish dimension was a strange place, its basic laws of physics differed a little, not much but a little, from Earth or Falmart. Just enough to make it interesting.

Massachusetts Institute of Technology was already offering a Master's course in "Hell Studies" right next to the "Titan Studies" and were promising a PhD course as soon as they knew enough to decide what it should contain.

Humans were at work on what made Netherworld tick and would worry away at the mysteries until they weren't mysteries any longer.

What was it General Nuttall had said to UEA ? "Their magic met our weapons. Weapons won."

Randi nodded and closed the door behind him. His work was done all right, the protocols, the strict testing, the constant guard against fraud, all the techniques he had pioneered at JREF were now a standard part of the investigative techniques at DIMO(N).

It was strange though, all the 'professional' psychics and mediums had turned out the be tricksters but ever-increasing numbers of people with real abilities were being located.

Some had been aware of their abilities and in most cases their knowledge of what awaited them the other side had driven them mad. Others had been unaware of their gift and had been as surprised as anybody else when their abilities had been revealed.

Science again, Randi noted, there was even a DNA scanning test to pick out likely candidates. There were hundreds of people who could open portals and the number was growing steadily.

Randi thought back to the early days when Sister Tyuwaru had been the only reliable link between the dimensions and she had worked herself into exhaustion to keep the war effort going.

She was a foreigner from a hostile nation from the other side of the GATE, she wasn't eligible for the Congressional Medal of Honor, but there were equivalent medals and she was getting most of them. It seemed that nations around the world were in a race to give her the highest award they could find.

But, all that was past. Randi adjusted his mithril foil had and set off down the corridor to where his car was waiting. The inside of the Pentagon was being refurbished, again, this time to install mithril linings in the walls. That was a part of the Federal Building Code now, all new buildings had to have mithril linings in their walls.

That left only one question, just what was he going to do next?

First Circle Of Terror, Terror-Pit, The Eye Of Terror

"This isn't how I saw it," Tyuwaru looked out of her Oshkosh at the First Circle. It was a desolate scene, that much was right, there were ruined buildings, mud, trash everywhere. But the bitter cold, the biting wind, the night-time darkness and the constant ravenous starvation were gone. "But this is where I'm going."

"You're wearing your protective medallion, Tyuwaru." Colonel Paschal was slightly amused. "If you had been here when we blew the gates open and hadn't been, you would have seen what you expected. Starving people gathered around crude campfires in the mud, eating maggot-ridden food from garbage skips. Some of it was real, some illusion and when we took down the mind entanglement, the latter went away. But, Tyuwaru, you're wrong. You're not coming here."

"But that's what the future holds for me. I saw it."

"Sure you did. But you're making a mistake, what you foresaw isn't in your future. It's your now. This, here, now, is what you foresaw all those years. You came to the first Circle of Terror, sure, but what you didn't see was you brought the whole United Earth Army with you. And quite a lot of others as well. You didn't come to the Eye of Terror as a victim, you've come as a conqueror. You fought the demons and you won. Now you can get on with the rest of your life."

"Hey, Tyuwaru!"

The shout came from outside the JLTV Oshkosh. Tyuwaru looked around and saw a group of eight soldiers running across to the JLTV Oshkosh. Her mind reached out and she recognized them instantly.

"Tucker!" She jumped out of the vehicle, just in time to be swept up in Tucker McElroy's arms.

He gave her a resounding kiss and then passed her around the team. "Tyuwaru, we've never been able to thank you for everything you did for us. Not properly. And I guess we never will be able to do it right. But we're here to do our best."

"Tucker, I thought you were up in Tartarus?"

"We were, but the Marines landed an hour ago and the DSEALs took over from us. So we portalled out and then over to here. How are you feeling? Did your op go well?"

"Very well, The General had everything lined up ready for me. Pretty much all the work is done now. So, what's the plan?"

"Well, every one of us here's going to get drunk to celebrate for you. If we can get drunk of course. We haven't really tried yet. Want to join us in the experiment"

Tyuwaru giggled. "Can't I'm afraid, still on medications that don't allow alcohol. But when I'm off them, I'll come and look you all up and we'll try them OK?"

Executive Office, Pima National Park; Congolian, Afrykania, Falmart

The roaring sound of war dragons woke baron Ryazen, Executive Director of the Pima National Park from an exhausted sleep. He'd been trying to arrange what was left of his park so that he would have at least an approximation of a display for his visitors but it had been a hard job.

He'd heard it was worse over at Montham National Park, there every dragon worth a coin had been mobilized and the rest had been stripped of their magic vein to keep the others flying.

Then, the significance of the sound sank home. He looked out of the office window and saw that his blue eye white dragons had returned. Ten seconds later he was running across the runway towards the landed dragons.

"They're back."

Centurio Tibbets turned to look at the old baron. "He surely is. And he fought well for an old warrior. Did three bombing raids on Beelzebub's army and that's the least important part of it. He and his brother did nearly all the experimental work that was essential for the bombing raids to work. They freed up the more modern dragons for strikes and without them, The Holy War would have taken a lot longer. Yup, these old warriors more than earned their keep. Cost us too, you know three of the dragons crashed when their wings gave out?

"Now, they're being retired again. The 40th Squadron is to receive new dragons and we're gonna start conversion soon. So, Lord Ryazen, the Imperial Air Force says you can have him back again. On one condition though. You keep him in his Netherworld camouflage armor in place and treat him well."

"I wouldn't have it any other way Centurio."

Outside Palelabor, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

"Do you think she's lying?"

"Of course she is. She is a chaos demon, remember. The only question is, what is she lying about?"

General Thomas Waldhauser was watching the gates of the fortress with professional interest. "You know, looking at this place, you'd almost think they were expecting an attack by us. That choke point getting into the valley was a perfect defensive bottleneck and the valley itself is a great killing ground. The hills are too steep for Tomahawk to handle and the whole geography is wrong for a ballistic missile attack. This place would have given us conniptions if we'd had to force our way in."

"Even the Demons could have fought us on even terms here." Division Sergeant Major Carter was also watching the gates of the fortress.

It was one of those days when killing people and breaking their things seemed like an entirely reasonable way of life.

The First Marine Division had been on board their amphibious warfare ships, pounding north at 40 knots when Dis had fallen. That had gained all the headlines but it was this operation, the storming of the northern redoubt, that was the really important one.

This was where the attacks on Earth and Falmart had been mounted from. Waldhauser and Carter were both definitely of the opinion that breaking things was in order.

"The gates are opening." Waldhauser was almost speaking to himself but the stir of activity was easy to see. Tank guns, missile launchers, artillery, MLRS vehicles, all were training on the great doors in the rock.

If the occupants did try a double-cross, the amount of firepower that could be poured into the fortress was impressive even by human standards. The Demons inside would learn that there was no worse enemy than the United States Marines.

A golden figure walked out, followed at a respectful distance by others. It was a gorgon, easily distinguished by the mass of writhing tendrils that formed its 'hair'. It approached Waldhauser and stood in front of him.

"On your knees, hands behind your head." The Marine sergeant snapped the words out. The gorgon obeyed, indignant at the treatment but determined to obey. Because obedience meant survival.

"I am Chatelaine Euryale, mistress of Palelabor."

"I will decide what your title is and I will tell you what you are." Waldhauser's voice was ice-cold. "Until then, you are nothing. Understand me?"

"Yes master."

"When addressing the general, first and last words out of your mouth are 'Sir'." Carter spoke abruptly, precisely the way the same order had been given to him, first day in boot camp.

"Try again."

"Sir, yes sir." Euryale clenched her teeth forcing herself to remember that these were humans, they could destroy anything, any time they wanted.

"Are all your personnel out of the fortress?"

Euryale looked carefully behind her and did a count. "Sir, all that survived yes. Many of my people were killed by the usurper Belial and many more in the rebellion against him. These are all that are left Sir. But Sir, the passageways and tunnels beneath Palelabor are deep and complex. It may be that a few of Belial's people survive down there. Sir."

"If there are, and we find them, they will be killed. The gorgons, order them to assemble over there." Carter pointed at a flat area of ground.

"You join them."

Euryale called her gorgons over and led the way to the indicated area. Flat, no cover, surrounded by rocks, to her practiced eye, it had every indication of being a killing ground. One of the marines made a waving motion with his hand and the party knelt again.

Then a group of the marines appeared carrying what looked like bags. They put one over the head of each of the gorgons, Euryale last. He last thought before the bag shut light out was whether this would be the execution she feared.

"Listen up. You may move the bag so you can see. But you will keep those head things of yours covered at all times. Any gorgon seen with its head-snakes exposed will be killed without warning. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes Sir." The gorgons echoed the words.

Waldhauser turned to his officers. "Order the men in, search that place from top to bottom. Any Demons still in there, kill them Find the human slaves, all of them, bring them out. Once we find out how many are here, we'll decide what to do with them.

Broken Skull Gallery, Shaft 14, Slocum Mine, Tartarus

Publius had set the ambush up carefully. There was a thing strand of wire across the tunnel floor, one end securely anchored to the rock, the other tied around a delicately-balanced support. If something tripped over the wire, the act would pull that support out and drop a barrage of heavy rocks on the victim. Then, the humans could close in and beat it to death with their war-hammers.

Publius was proud of those hammers, a heavy wedge of black stone, its edges painstakingly sharpened so that they could cut as well as crush. The whole thing tied to the end of a solid handle that gave it extra momentum. The war-hammer could crush a demon skull. If they could find a demon with a skull to crush that is.

"Where have they all gone?" Simplicus looked around at the humans gathering for the ambush. The demon presence had vanished, as if the monstrous creatures had evaporated overnight. It had been three or four days since the last of the demon overseers had gone away and none had come to replace them. The humans had continued working for one of those days, then stopped. Then they'd split into two groups, the sheep and the wolves.

No, Simplicus thought, that wasn't right. They'd split into three groups, the sheep, who sat around doing nothing, the wolves, who had already started to prey on the sheep, and the sheep-dogs, who were protecting the sheep and starting the rebellion against the demons.

He, Publius and the rest of the humans here, they were the sheep-dogs and Simplicus felt strangely proud of the distinction.

"Something's coming." The words were whispered, alerting the defenders. "A demon from the left, another group from the right.

This is it. Simplicus thought carefully. The demons were coming back, now the fighting would really start. A war of traps and ambushes against the demon's strength and magic tridents. Perhaps they could get the single demon first and flee, leading the group into another ambush? That should work, doubtless Publius was already thinking that out.

What happened next was totally outside his experience. There were a short series of yells from the group and a series of loud explosions that lit up the tunnels with their flashes and echoed around the rock walls, making Simplicus's ears hurt with the reverberations. The single demon was hurled back against the wall, his bright blue blood splattering all over the floor of the tunnel.

He fell, half-sitting against the cave wall and another barrage of explosions caused more of the injuries that had brought him down. Then, he fell sideways to lay on the floor, very obviously dead.

The group who had killed him came into better view. They were the same size as humans, but they wore red-and-gray mottled armor that seemed to blend into the cave walls. They were loaded down with equipment and each man carried a strange lance-like object in his hands.

Their faces were half-hidden by strangely-shaped helmets that gave them a strange, beetle-browed ferocity but Simplicus could see that their real faces were hidden behind a mask that covered their nose and mouth and goggles that covered their eyes.

Strange goggles, black ones that seemed to project forward from their faces and glowed with a strange green light. With a sudden insight, Simplicus knew that these new arrivals were human.

"You human slaves down here?" The leader of the group spoke curtly as if he had a lot to do and not much time to do it.

"We were, we're rebelling against the demons."

"Good for you." The same voice was now warm and friendly. "You don't know it, but you've won. This place surrendered a couple of hours ago and its previous owners are in custody. There's been a war between Earth, Falmart and Netherworld and we won. You're free. Just follow the way we've marked to the surface and there's people there waiting to look after you."

The leader of the group stepped forward and to his horror, Simplicus realized he hadn't seen the tripwire leading to the booby trap. There was only one thing to do and Simplicus did it without thinking.

"Look out!"

He yelled the words as he dived forward, pushing the human leader backwards, out of the way of the rocks. In doing so, he hit the tripwire himself and the last thing he registered was the battering of the rocks as they hit him.

Publius stared down at the body of his friend, crushed beneath the carefully-built deadfall. The leader of the humans picked himself up from the floor where Simplicus had pushed him and carefully inspected the body. Then, he looked at Publius and shook his head sadly.

"And to think that we came down here to rescue you."

"He was my friend." Publius's voice was loaded with grief.

"He was also a Marine." Sergeant Voight looked down at the man who had saved his life. "You men, take him to the surface, with an honor guard. The rest of us will keep looking down here."

"My name is Publius. I was a legionary in Roman Army once. May I come with you? I can help you find your way around, show you where the rest of us are."

"Very well. Lead on Publius."

Outside Palelabor, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

The dead were streaming out, most blinking at the unfamiliar light. As they did, they were being greeted, their names taken for the ever-growing database of the rescued humans and herded out of the way. Not all of them though, a few, a small handful of them were being shepherded to one side where they were guarded by hard-looking men who wore white helmets, white scarves and white gloves.

The soldiers were military police, those they guarded were the humans who had turned traitor and aided the Demons in their plans against the living.

The guards weren't there to keep them in, they were there to stop the other rescued humans tearing them limb from limb. That had already happened to some, the men here were the survivors.

Beside them, a JLTV Oshkosh pulled up and a man got out, one whose uniform was subtly different from the Marines. He walked over to General Waldhauser, and saluted crisply.

"Sir, may I have permission to see the names of those we have recovered.

"Yes, of course Major." Waldhauser waved and carter passed a notebook computer with the latest records on it.

The strange major loaded a flashdrive into the side and pressed a key. Then his eyebrows went up."With your permission Sir, I would like to take this one." He passed the notebook back.

"Obersturmbannfuhrer Herwijer. Guard at Majdanek. Sure, Major you can have him. Take good care of him."

"Yes Sir, I will take very good care of him," said Major Ben-Ari of the Israeli Defense Forces.

Route One, The Eye Of Terror.

"So you renamed it Route One." Charles Zi Augustus looked at what had once been the Dis-Dysprosium Highway.

"That's right, makes things a lot easier." Second Consul Kim Ngan watched the humans walking out of the Terror Pit. Charles had assembled his people fast and they were already on their way to the area he had picked out as suitable for his new nation.

"Its all fixed Charles. I've resigned my commission, so I'm a free agent now. A word to the wise, the UEADF knows what you're up to and they don't object too strenuously as long as you don't make it too obvious that you are building an independence nation. As far as they're concerned, as long as you keep the peace in the area, its one they don't have to worry about. One more thing, while I was away, I checked my finances, I've got my separation bonus, my back salary and a few other things. I also hear a rumor that our geologists have discovered a large quantity of lithium and cobalt in the Eye of Terror. You can make a fortune off the Big Three."

"She's saying things we don't understand again." Titus pulled an exaggerated face of despair.

"It just means our first Consul will be rich. Again. Lithium and cobalt are important components of lithium ion batteries, which are indispensable for consumer electronics and electric vehicles. The demons are untrustworthy and we're the only organizing nation in the Eye of Terror so the mega conglomerates on Earth will pay us a vast sum of money to provide security and run mining operations. Our new nation can use that money. For vehicles, weapons, fuel and other equipment."

"And radios," added Charles Zi Augustus. "Don't forget radios. And soon, our new nation will rise from the land of the death like a Mahayana Lotus. The Nation of Zen."

Banks of the Styx. Fifth Circle of Terror

"Fire in the hole!" The combat engineers gave the time honored cry and watched the workers scrambling clear.

A stretch of the Styx and the swamps that surrounded it had been painstakingly cleared of imprisoned humans, then the charges set.

They would blow the bank away at a specific spot, diverting the water away down a series of channels. Once the previous river bed was drained, the remaining humans could be located, rescued and taken out of Hell.

"Firing, bank charges, in Three, Two One GO!"

The blast rocked the area's ending ripples across the surface of the Styx and causing the mud in the swamps to shiver. The bank vanished in a carefully-controlled blast that left a deep hole where the high bank had been. The Styx started to flow down its new path and the water level in the old bed started to fall.

"Firing, Bed charges in Three, Two, One. Go!"

A second series of charges blasted mud into the old river bed, forming a dam. The remaining water in the old bed drained away, exposing thousands of bodies, nailed to crude crosses.

"Thank thee friend. We can work now and bring help to these poor creatures. Where art thou going now?" The Quaker looked solemnly at the Army engineer.

"To the Sixth Circle. There is a river of lava there that also must be diverted and drained. And after that? Your guess is as good as mine, there's more than enough work down here for one generation. Clearing this place out will be a job for our children and their children."

"I fear thou art right friend. But we shall all do what we can."

Ninth Circle of Terror, Netherworld

"So this is the Ninth Circle of Terror." General Schatten looked at the area beneath him.

A tiny area, a sheet of ice on which strange creatures, a mix of gorillas, bears, horses and things he couldn't even imagine paced. They wandered from place to place, guarding the naked women who were frozen in the ice. From where he stood, Schatten could see hundred of them. Doubtless, there were more.

"Who are these people."

Abigor looked down on them with pity. "They are the most beautiful women in history from a thousand worlds. Helen of Troy, Neferneferuaten Nefertiti, Cornelia Africana, Julia Berenice, Delilah, Bathsheba, Cleopatra, Phryne, Xi Shi, Wang Zhaojun and many more. They are Abaddon's play things."

Schatten looked more carefully. In the middle of one group was an eerie familiar blonde woman. "The hole over there. Who is in that."

Abigor searched his memory. "A countryman of yours I think. One called Marilyn Monroe."

Be'lakor Gate, The Eye Of Terror

The demon is an immaterial being, a creature of will and emotion given form by the Winds of Magic. They pool and fester at the shattered poles of the world, twisted places where the laws of reality cease to function and give way to the realms beyond.

From here, demons are shaped by the favor of the four Great Gods of Chaos; Khorne, Nurgle, Slannesh and Tzeetch. Demons are an extension of their patron god, puppets molded and directed by the whims of whichever ruinous power has claimed them. Most are formed within the energies of the Aethyr, yet some were once living beings of flesh and blood.

If a mortal is willing to walk this path of ruin, the greatest, most terrible among them might achieve a glorious moment of metamorphosis and attain deamonhood, ascending atop a dark pantheon to become a Demon Prince. They leave their frail bodies behind and become creatures of pure magic, free from the burden of death.

Such an achievement requires acts of unspeakable cruelty, a life spent in devotion to one of the dark gods, and a willingness to overcome reality itself. The rewards are without equal, but these beings will forever be enemies of the natural world.

Every soul that dedicates itself to Chaos seeks this apotheosis.

Though for every champion to roar in triumph as a newly crowned Deamon Prince, untold thousands will perish on the field of battle, or be warped utterly into wailing Chaos spawn.

But those that succeed are creatures of unbending will and utter ruthlessness, who would tear the heart from the very world in the service of their own ambition. Yet all among their number still walk in the shadow of the one who came before, the first mortal ever raised to their exalted ranks.

He is the Lord of Torment, The First Damned: Be'lakor, the Dark Master.

His is a name that has resounded throughout history, a shadowed hand twisting the strings of fate for as long as any can remember. He is malice made manifest, a mind of terrible intent that would see all, even the Gods of Chaos, torn down in his name.

Who Be'lakor may have been in life and from what mortal race he rose, has long since been forgotten across the slow march of time. The only certainty is that he was once a mighty champion of Chaos, a warrior of peerless skill and unflinching courage.

As his conquests grew in number, he drew the attention of the four ruinous powers, impressing each in turn with feats of intelligence, endurance, excess and bloodshed. No mortal had ever drawn the gaze of all four Gods before, and each desired him for their own designs.

Through twisted dreams and whispers on the wind, the champion was drawn into the far north of the Chaos Wastes. He warred through lands of wild beasts and savage tribes, until he crossed the borders of reality into the Realm of Chaos itself.

The twisted, maddening lands of the Aethyr are enough to break even the strongest of minds, yet the champion gazed on, unflinching in the face of the impossible made real.

Impressed by his resolve, the Chaos Gods rewarded the champion by destroying his mortal form and binding him into a new form of pure magical energy. Each of the four gods gifted a measure of their power, creating a new and terrible force, Be'lakor, the first Daemon Prince.

Antecedent among demons, Be'lakor was an incomparable prize. The Dark Gods fought to claim his tainted soul, each seeking to use him as a playing piece in their Great Game and win dominance over the others.

As this contest raged, Khorne, Nurgle, Slaneesh and Tzeetch all offered Be'lakor even greater power if he would only consent to lead their demonic armies to victory.

The demon prince readily accepted these gifts, but he had little interest in the Great Game.

Be'lakor promised each God his devotion alone and played the bickering deities against each other. But In truth, he served only himself. When he had grown strong enough, he abandoned the Great Game within the Realm of Chaos, and fled back to the mortal world.

Be'lakor's dark majesty attracted many thousands of demons and primitive tribes to his service, and he swiftly bent them to his will alone. For many years his armies tore across the continents, throwing the fledgling kingdoms of every race, including many long forgotten, into madness and ruin.

As Chaos spread, so too did the Winds of Magic increase in intensity, strengthening his demonic hordes and the Prince's own immaterial form.

His minions built mighty edifices, great towers and thrones designed to gather the wild magic in great reservoirs for him to draw from. Be'lekor was worshipped as a god and he reveled in his and he reveled in his unmatched primacy.

Yet the Chaos Gods had not forgotten Be'lekor's betrayal, and each had resolved to put an end to this upstart creature's dreams of godhood. Be'lakor might have pursued his own designs, but his conquests had unwittingly strengthened the Ruinous Powers as well. With every city swallowed in demonic tides or race driven to extinction, the Creed of Chaos spread and soon other mortal followers began to draw the attention of the Dark Gods.

None commanded the mutual respect of all four gods, but with every new Champion elevated by Khorne, Nurgle, Slaneesh, or Tzeetch to demonhood, Be'lakor felt his power ebb and wane. Slowly his armies began to splinter under these usurpers.

As the hordes of Chaos paused in their sweeping conquest to struggle amongst themselves, the Elves of Ulthuan conducted their great ritual to stem the Winds of Magic that were billowing across the world.

An immeasurable vortex siphoned away the energies of the Aether, denying the warring armies the stuff of Chaos the power that kept their daemons in material form.

The Demon Princes, now numbering in the dozens and perhaps even hundreds, lost control of their armies and collapsed into anarchy. Even Be'lakor could not hold onto the material plane.

He was the last to be banished, for his connection to the mortal world was stronger than any other, but eventually he too was pulled back into the Realm of Chaos.

Banished from the material world, Be'lakor was left a shadowy essence that drifted through the Realm of Chaos. He deeply desired to return to the material realm, and reclaim his lost glories, but the Chaos Gods would not permit it. In a twisted irony, where once Be'lakor's potential had united the Ruinous Powers, his treachery had again left them in fleeting agreement.

Unlike other Deamons who might escape the Realm of Chaos when the winds of magic blew strongest, Be'lakor would be chained to the will of the Dark Gods and only permitted to leave when they desired it. This was a gift they granted sparingly, and only to inflict greater humiliation.

In the pantheon of the Ruinous Powers, Be'lakor's new role was to be the "Father-in-Shadow".

His only duty was to coronate and serve the Everchosen, a mortal Champion who had won for themselves the favor of all four Chaos Gods.

It was the honor that Be'lakor deeply coveted, and the act of crowning his successor tormented him.

Yet Be'lakor did not simply accept this indignity. From his confines in the Realm of Chaos, he whispered into the minds of madmen and warlords across the mortal realms. He promised them his unearthly power if they were to only perform a ritual through which he might be summoned.

But Be'lakor's promises were as poisonous to these petty despots as they had been to the Chaos Gods. He would inevitably slaughter those foolish enough to free him from the Aether, and pursue his own dreams of conquest. But Be'lakor's strength had been sapped and he remained a shadow of the being that was once worshiped as a god. His ambitions were always beyond his ability.

Invariably, the presence of a Daemon Prince would draw forth a mortal champion to lay Be'lekor low, and banish him back into the Realm of Chaos. There he would await the next ambitious fool to twist with honeyed words, or the coronation of the next Everchosen of Chaos.

Twelve times Be'lakor has left the Realm of Chaos to crown a mortal champion; anointing them as the "Herald of the Apocalypse". Twelve times he has been bound to their will to lead armies in their name. Yet Morkar, Vangel, Khaardun, Avasar Kul, and every other mortal being to bear the title "Everchosen" has failed.

To Be'lakor, Archaeon: The Three Eyed King seems little different, and while he has performed his duty and placed a crown upon the 13th Everchosen, he is driven as never before to not simply be the Father-In-Shadow to the newest Lord of the End Times.

When the demonic legions march against the mortal world, it will not be to the whims of Archaon, but in accordance with the will of Be'lakor, whether the Chaos Gods wish it or not.

For most, such designs reek of madness, but Be'lakor is like nothing else to ever walk beyond the Aether. He is a nightmare, a monster from a time long forgotten when terrible forces roared unchallenged across the world. In all the ages since, in the broken dreams of madmen and in the atrocities they unleashed, the hand of Be'lakor can be felt.

He is a creature wrapped in shadow, a force of ruin and destruction that seeks always to find his way back to the material world and tear it down, so that he might build it anew in his own monstrous image.

He is a being of pure ambition, a soul obsessed with the conquest of existence itself. And yet, for all his twisting motives and byzantine plans, for now he remains a prisoner, shackled to the whims of the Great Four and bound by their laws. Yet the time may be drawing near when Be'lakor is at last free again and beyond the power of any god or mortal. His strength is slowly returning in the shadows, and his plans have found their first successes. But the winds of magic are fickle. Be'lakor -the First Damned, the oldest Champion of Chaos may yet arise as the 5th Ruinous Power of Chaos, or he might simply be the first pawn in their neverending game.

XXXXXXXX

Belial looked at the great fortress that guarded the one single gate that led directly from Abaddon's Realm to other Chaos Kingdoms. The guards were sloppy, ill-disciplined and this compared badly with the days under Abaddon's rule. The humans hadn't found out about this place yet and their machines were not surrounding it. To Belial, it looked as if the whole place was about to fall apart.

That was an insult of course, Belial knew this place, knew how solidly it was built, in fact he knew it far better than anybody suspected. He knew there was a way in that by-passed the narrow twisting tunnel that the guards here used.

In the darkness, he slipped over the wall, making his way down the stairway towards the entrance. It was tiny, too small by far for him to use. But, once he had found it, he was able to orientate himself. He had to go one hundred blocks to the left, ten blocks up, then five back to the right. It was a measure of how cunningly this place had been built that going 95 blocks to the left and then five up would not take him to the same place. In any case, climbing at anywhere other than the right place was impossible.

"Sire, what are you doing here?" The demon guard had come on him unexpectedly.

Belial cursed himself for being so distracted that he had allowed a traitor to some so close. Had Euryale sent him? Or the humans? It didn't matter. Belial swung around and fired the modified human shotgun that had been made at Palelabor, watching the metal fragments blast the unfortunate demon into wherever came next.

Belial know the blast would attract attention and he had to work fast. His talons found the holes and he started pressing the keys inside, in the right order, hearing the panels drop inside as he did so. With the last one, the stone block was free to move. Belial pushed it, sending it pivoting backwards.

He was getting feverish with hurry, he could hear the guards approaching but the second block was free to pivot. He was inside the secret tunnel and the blocks pivoted back in time to conceal him from the approaching guards.

The tunnel was still cramped for a demon as large as Belial but he scrambled down, feeling the undressed stone tearing at him. It was utterly dark, and the sudden end caused him a heavy blow to his head. Now, he had to find the correct sequence again and this time his life hung in the balance. Get this wrong and the stones would swing to close the tunnel completely, crushing him out of existence.

Finally, the slabs were free and Belial was able to drop into the Be'lakor Gate chamber. It was empty, the guards had gone. He took a deep breath and stepped through the gate, into the Be'lakor Gate Chamber the other side. The guards there had gone as well and there was but a single figure sitting on a convenient stone.

"Don't shoot! I am the Grand Duke Belial, seeking refuge from the mortals. Abaddon's Realm has fallen, the mortals now rule everything."

"And why should we take you in?" Be'lakor's voice was teasing, condescending.

"Because I know how to beat the mortals."

"So do we." Be'lakor stared at Belial. He'd been expecting the former Great Duke for some days and had been getting to the point where he assumed the demon wouldn't make it.

"No, the mortals have weapons that outclass anything we have. Remember in the Great Demonic War, we fought for eons without gaining an advantage? Yet the humans crushed us utterly in a few of their months. Your Realm cannot stand any more than mine could. Not without the weapons I have built."

Be'lakor nodded. He would take Belial to Master Horus, perhaps the idea of a refugee would amuse him. Or, at least, keep him out of the way while Be'lakor got on with his own plans.

Underground Train Tunnel to Skavenblight, Azjania, Falmart

Far below the surface of the illuminated world, beneath the cities of the Holy Empire and the vast jungles of Azjania, from the wasteland of the Arctic to the lush forest of Terra Australis, stretched a labyrinthine network of train tunnels and passageways.

The magic train bumped and swayed as it ran on into the darkness at almost 300 km/h, its adamatine wheels screaming in complaint as they rounded the sharper terms. The hot, dead air suddenly became damp, and presently the walls fell away as they passed over a sturdy crystal bridge spanning a vast chasm.

The headlight on the train could revealed nothing in that vast space to human eyes, but Itami thought he could make out the faint splashing and roaring of running water before they plunged into the opposite wall.

The tunnel went on and on for hours, stretching far longer than Itami had thought possible given the Falmartian's primitive tools. Man made sewers intersect with natural caverns and Dwarven ruins gave way to an endless abyss.

The two apostles seemed to read his mind; "Should a careless traveler stumble upon an entrance to this place and venture too far and too deep, it might be a thousand lifetimes before they found their way back upon the surface."

Yet to the resourceful creatures who had learned to navigate its secrets and scurry in untold numbers throughout this twisted maze, all the tunnels of the Under-Empire leaded to a single place.

A city known as Skavenblight.

If such a patchwork of ruins and hovels might be considered a city, then Skavenblight is the largest and most populated city that ever was or will be.

Located in the heart of the Blighted Marshes, a putrid mire forever cloaked in reeking mist and unnatural smog, Skavenblight viewed from the surface is but a great ruin, forgotten towers and broken streets slowly sinking into the muck.

At first glance, the city might seem abandoned, but shadowy figures scamper between crumbling buildings and ominous green lights flicker in some of the tallest towers and deepest burrows.

Beneath it all, the ceaseless rhythm of machinery can be felt as much as heard, betraying the true nature of Skavenblight.

The city itself exists underground in unfathomable levels, countless districts, lairs, breeding pits and mines all linked together by an interconnected and ever-changing web of tunnels.

Skavenblight serves as the capital of the Skaven race and endless homunculus-workers continually shift whole mountains of rock, drilling ever outward and ever deeper, utilizing arcane machinery and disposable chattel. Even so, its passageways are always filled with seething hordes of insatiable Skaven that demand constant expansion.

Every Skaven clan maintains at least some foothold within the capital, but it is the Four Great Clans who control the most impressive districts.

Clan Skryre and Clan Moulder dominate the economic interests of the city, running vast workshops and markets, trading their wares to aspirant warlords.

The War Monks of Clan Bellica maintain a more religious quarter where zealous Skaven go to embrace the warfare aspect of their patron god - Emroy.

Last and smallest of the Great Clan's districts is that of Clan Eshin - a secretive place known only to a select few who practice the arts of stealth, poison, and assassination.

The limitless wealth and prosperity of the city attracts the worst of the Skaven race, and Skavenblight is said to have the greatest concentration of warlocks, thieves, bandits, renegades and outlaws than all other Skaven strongholds combined.

A state of lawlessness presides at all times, as clans partake in a perpetual cycle of corruption, murder and betrayal, each vying for control over the city's countless territories.

At the center of Skavenblight lies the Great Temple of the 13 Gods, meeting place of the Council of Thirteen where the Lords of The Underworld gather to oversee the greatest issues of their race and plot invasion against their enemies above.

The Temple extends for many miles beneath the city but is marked above by a single great tower reaching to impossible heights over the surrounding wasteland.

The Tower of Darwin is said to be a piece of madness made manifest, perfect marble-white sections intertwined with crude scaffolding, masonry of every style and realm haphazardly stacked upon each other.

If the old legends can be trusted, then this tower was the dream of men and dwarves who once lived together in Kavzar - said to be the oldest and grandest city in the world. Envisioned as a temple of honor their gods, the city laboured to create a tower that would touch the very heart of the heavens. The work continued across the ages, generations of sons progressing the labour of their fathers, for thousands of years.

Their train continued on for another 15 minutes, the monotony now broken by the occasional side tunnel, all of which looked thoroughly abandoned.

The magic train began to slow as it passed over the second crystal bridge, a persistent whining building into an ear-splitting scream as the brakeman applied the brakes. Huge piles of smashed rock were visible to either side of the track, the spoil of uncounted centuries of mining.

A dim glow appeared ahead, resolving into a pair of beautifully decorated Orichalcum doors set in a carved obsidian archway that must be at least a hundred feet high.

The magic train screeched to a stop in the entrance hall. Great carved columns supported the roof of a vast space, mostly filled with crates, barrels and weird looking plants. Itami stared around them, seeing a maze of tunnels leading off in every direction.

The train conductor spoke at last, he voice filled with pride. "Human, know that you are uniquely privileged, for of all your kind you are the first to ever enter the Prisha Manor."

Itami and Lelei got off the train and followed Aleister and Giselle to a large white magic carriage that was waiting. A Skaven coachman approached them and spoke. "Welcome to Prisha Manor, Grandmaster Aleister, Grandmaster Giselle and guests. Her Most Reverend Prisha Sargun is waiting for you all."