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The unexpected always found a way to happen in this world. Particularly, it was the kind of unexpected that required extraneous actions to counter it, but with some effort it could be swung to her benefit. That was why Zelas herself was hunting dead dragons today.

Twelve little candlestick dragons, dancing down Megiddo. Deeper down they went on the currents of the world's flow, which brought all to the sea known as Hell. Should any devil ask, she tried her luck with the dead when the living would not speak.

Megiddo was the nexus that connected the world of the living to the world of the dead, working as a whirlpool to both sides. It sucked souls with a mind, and slung out those who had lost their identity to astral erosion. For all the power that Fibrizo had possessed, for all the might of Shabranigdu himself, they could not control the ebb and tide that Megiddo created on the flow of souls. It had no astral side, it existed beyond the astral side, it could not be touched or commanded. Theories and rumors amongst weary devils told Megiddo was lying within the staff of the worlds.

To the astral world, it stood below as an blue star on the dark red firmament. Even the most idiotic navigators could find their way by it. More troublesome for movement was the stream of souls, whose astral side shone a bright blue. In many places small threads flowed to the star, converging into a thin pillar below it. The closer an astral being came to a wide river, the easier they were blinded. To go amidst the pillar meant all loss of orientation, for a devil could only break the flow, not feel it deep enough to travel on it.

Lately Zelas had a need to pass Megiddo, so she had created a chimera of devil and wolf : a large silver wolf striped as a tiger with white and wings as a dragon. If she contracted her projection into a small enough human form, using plasma instead of matter, she could hold onto this chimera. He would pull her along across the astral plane, riding the flow for her.

Even so, they were slower than the average soul, let alone a dragon. Her prey was gaining ground without even having realized she was there, but Zelas was confident she would catch them on the other side. At this point, she was at the mercy of her chimera. Should it decide to throw her off, she could be lost here for a very long time, long enough without direction and sensation to lose some of her sanity. He would never throw her off though, Zelas was excellent at forging loyalty.

With something all too much resembling a pop into a void, the souls fell into the first expanses of Hell. Where previously they had been a diverse buffet, now their dim veil of miasma turned to wonder, disappointment, disillusionment and curiosity. See, the other end of Megiddo was all too similar to entrance. Clouds of rocks whirled around here as much on the other side, one could still see the pillar on the other side through the gaps. In fact, if one were head in the opposite direction of the flow, the one that returned souls to the living world, it would look almost exactly the same, only inversed. A pillar on this side, an unfolding flower on the other side.

The only difference between here and there was the lack of flower movement. Hell had no true exodus, it was merely a confused refugee camp. Not even a sign to anyone where to go or what would follow, let alone how they would ever find their family and loved ones. Clusters of souls hung around, trying to find consolation and guidance with one another. Many would wait for a long time before choosing any of the rivers that led further into Hell. Zelas was sorely tempted to linger and feed, but alas. She circled her mount higher to get a better view.

Since the last time, the thickest of the blue rivers had curled a little more inward and the dark hollow where Fibrizo had carved out a river in the red had contracted a little more. Ha! Five thousand years and never had he dented the walls of the worlds, let alone Megiddo itself. A few decades and it would be healed.

It was through Megiddo that the gods had believed they could chip away at Shabranigdu's mind. A tell tale sign of their naivety : merely taking away mental space did not mean the end of the ideas living in that space. By grace of their astral bodies, Shabranigdu and Garv had retained their personality where their hosts were scrubbed into blank slates. Yet they were able to do so only by integrating a part of their body into the soul. Garv had gone too far and become a true chimera, but even Shabranigdu was tainted by the souls to the point the host could influence them.

That had been Fibrizo's original reason to risk himself in finding Shabranigdu. He had believed he could intercept the fragments by controlling hell. Megiddo had been a pesky maze to him, not the power it ought to be respected as. Granted, the maze thing was a fitting description. Zelas had just spotted her prey, but they were in a different river than the one her mount was currently above. They'd have to cross the flow, and quickly. Once the dragons were further down Hell, they could access any old vision nexus and contact their tribe and then wham, Vrabazard or Valwin would know too much.

Zelas commanded her mount to jump from one soul cluster to another. This action caused them to scatter, and in no time her prey spotted her. With her astral form being colored so brightly and being so massive, she stood out like a sore thumb to any dragon that was skilled enough to see the astral side. The twelve formed a loose flock, but did not stick together. Those few most magically potent went ahead in the flew.

She drummed her wolf on the shoulder with slim fingers, he purred in response to her code. They would hunt the faster ones first, then corner the weaker. In addition to its purpose, the emotions would run up in their prey as they realized just how weak they were.

One hand was all she needed, her swords remained immaterial. Five thin light wires shot from her nails, tauntingly brushed across a dragon they passed, but aimed firmly at the one leader ahead. It touched none of the other souls on the way, but when her power reached the dragon, it wrapped firmly around its tail and crept up to the wings. The dragon cried out as its soul was encased by Zelas's magic, its astral form fragmenting under her power. A small snack for her, which she would repeat eleven times more.

Each soul she forced into the form of a small golden ball, a technique she had Xelloss raid from Fibrizo's remaining magic. It was an imperfect imitation, but it would do. They remained aware of their surroundings, so Zelas glowered over them as she rode deeper into Hell. There was a list of typical but mind breaking one liners she could say, she her her projection recite them as they went along. There wasn't any concrete hunger to still, Zelas got plenty on the way here, but she was being practical by building reserves. A trip to Megiddo always was filling because so few liked to die.

Given the drama physical creatures made about dying, you'd think they ceased existing. Zelas supposed they couldn't help it. The very foundation of a soul was the instinct to live. Even the souls that had a good reason to stay in Hell, they'd be pulled to live the more their identity eroded, and this erosion was not something souls were hardwired to prevent or even be aware of. Many would eventually throw themselves into Megiddo.

Underlying this system was the principle of balance. Zelas respected this, but not those subject to it. There was a separate balance for her own kind, and those that did not evolve meant nothing to her beyond being of use, or already used. Honestly, most beings knew they would die and end up in hell, yet they'd fight for a few more years of hardship anyway. This was particularly inexcusible of they were those who believed a paradise awaited them. Zelas almost felt petty enough to call them spoiled. They didn't need to end with the destruction of their body, if they worked to stay themselves. When an astral creature died, they were gone. At best, chopped off parts of them would become new creatures, perhaps even similar ones, but the original identity was nothing anymore.

And then there were those lucky few that had become chimera.

"Zelas, what are you doing?" A cold voice, the start of the sentence farther away than the end. She was always so fast.

Zelas bothered to place a smile on her face as she turned to the angel, a radiant human-astral chimera with white hair, whose stoic demeanor made a strange contrast to her gently colored robes and feathered wings.

"Miss Milina, how early you are. My apologies for the disruption, I'm afraid there's been a broken dam," she purred, holding up the captured souls. "Be so kind as to lead me to your lord."

Milina narrowed her eyes slightly, then nodded.

"I presume you'll want to have a look the other two now?"

"Oh, is it obvious?"

"I'll let Lezo know once I brought you to Rangort. Follow me."

No more words wasted, Milina spun around and flew down an unpopulated stream, followed by Zelas.

Shabranigdu's hosts had been the reason Fibrizo had bothered with the afterlife in the first place, but he had never harvested much from that effort. The souls carrying the pieces of Shabranigdu, Ragradia and Siephied all cycled right out of the afterlife the moment they met Fibrizo. With their mortal souls in control and great power at disposal, Fibrizo's efforts to stop them often were in vain. It was as easy for them with just kick him off and fall into Megiddo's pull.

Often.

Her priest had snooped around hell a little when given the chance to visit the erstwhile Hellmaster and made an interesting discovery : Fibrizo had managed to detain two pieces. Unfortunately Zelas had not met them, but dead dragons were an excellent excuse to meet with Rangort, the new Hellmaster.

Incidentally, Earthlord Rangort had gotten a tip about the oncoming power vacuum, allowing hir to take it before anyone else.

Incidentally, Rangort was the one to suggest that yes, perhaps for that desperate time of otherworldly invasion by Dugradigdu, the gods can do something like include a devil in the counter prophecy.

Incidentally, Rangort was not entirely inclined to attack Zelas on first sight.

Incidentally, Rangort had taken custody of those two souls.

However, just because this particular god understood that listening to Zelas could have benefits did not mean there was any trust. Zelas was not allowed to roam Hell without any escort, so beyond Megiddo she was expected to be in the company of an angel at least. Usually this was Milina, as she best best accustomed to the disruptive energy of devils.

Fibrizo had turned Hell to crystals and marbles, intent to mock the souls within by painting their torture chamber so beautifully. With his power gone, Rangort had adopted the crystals as they match hir's earthly themes, the blank spaces and torture plains were filled with gray earth.

Milina deftly wove across the landscape, forsaking full speed so the devils keep up. It was easier moving and seeing here than near the center of Megiddo, but she still had difficulty keeping up with an angel in a god's domain.

And how much of a god's domain it had become. Fibrizo was powerful, but not nearly omniscient and omnipotent enough that he could turn all of hell to misery. There were simply too many souls, but they had all existed in fear for him. The inhabitant's best hope was a featureless area to build a new society in, usually with strangers, and hope they did not draw the attention of Fibrizo or any of his lesser devils. Their greatest enemy : trying to figure out how to exist without notice of Fibrizo, how to return to Megiddo, how to cope with the shattering of all of their beliefs.

In his absence, communities had begun to flourish. Like ants on an anthill, they dug into the twisted earth to carve out towers and palaces. The trees were growing with diverse fruit than merely apples and fountains with the simulation of water had risen near them. Clergymen and priests no longer were broken, she saw several of them amidst the groups to preach a new creed.

Zelas was mildly amused, but mostly annoyed with what she heard. Service to Rangort had become the new holiness, they spoke with greater purpose than what drove the simple minded god. How they'd break if they truly understood what astral beings were like; forces without social needs like law, morality and ethics, sometimes even without solid personality. All those things they valued so much were trivial to many devils and gods alike. Zelas would like to find a really religious person who she personally make this understand, just to taste the results (according to Xelloss, broken dragon faith was an absolute delicacy). But who that believed they knew the gods would believe a devil?

"Why does Rangort bother?" Zelas asked, nodding at another community. "With them. E is doing more than just guarding the pieces."

"For now, e gains some miasma, but e still feeds on the flow of the living world. Perhaps it matters to hir after all whether people are alright. Ragradia had some care, did she not?"

"There is very little to care for a dead soul. What for? Food, sex, sleep, all those things are gone. What do these things even do with their time?"

"Exactly, Zelas. What do they do? If a person dies, they lose their possessions and home, their ability to grow and change, they're thrust in a world they don't know at all and are unlikely to meet their loved ones again. They lose control over their fate. For many, cessation of existence would have been the kinder end, especially during the reign of Fibrizo," Milina said. "Rangort is creating a world she can eat from by giving them a direction."

"Tss, the benefits are thin for a god. They can just sit back and let the flow carry food to them. What can a god give them to make them happy enough to feed?"

"Well ... Rangort is making a point of allowing new souls to be created by keeping these from reincarnating."

Aaah, there it was. The miasma that Rangort could gain from the dead was much less than from the living, since they lost so much functions that related to their bodies. That only applied to the current numbers, if she could raise the amount of emotive beings in a controlled environment that the devils usually ignored, she had long therm profit. Hmm, and perhaps there was a benefit that these souls could spread her religion to the world of the living.

Rangort might be making hir own plans for the future, the sort that tasted like a power grab. It was either forethought or lack of thought, considering how slow that harvest would be.

By the time Zelas could see Rangort's true form across the astral plane, the landscape of Hell had changed considerably. A mossy green tint had infected the atmosphere and the land had given up pretense of the living world. As if the wind had blown across fragile hills and smeared them out, green structures leaned across dark rivers that went in circles. No even ground was to be seen, so thickly they lay together, but there was a lone road that led to a dark cathedral. It was crudely molded from damp mud boiled to hard rock, or molten lave coaxed to mimic manmade structure. Only the windows were truly a homage, round and and ruby in lead.

Rangort lay thick across the landscape in the form of a yellow fog, small compared to hir were the souls of the Ancient Dragons. They were the praetorian guard when e was absent. When the dark flock noticed her, Zelas was met with hatred and distrust, yet it was not as fiercely tasteful as with the usual dragon. They knew her, a little.

The fact that Rangort was here at all meant e was also aware of certain unrest in the world. Of the three pieces of Shabranigdu that resided in Hell Luke was most likely to pose a threat, as his piece had partially awake.

Milina landed on the platform before the cathedral's entrance, right below Rangort's astral head. She bowed briefly, but there was no reverence in her posture or miasma. Rangort projected a human form, androgynous and of the dark tribal blood of the ancient tribes. This form gave a curt nod to Milina, and nothing was given of her Rangort's true form. All of this was merely show for the souls that were watching.

Well, Zelas knew the art of acting. Her wolf land and she swept off, imaginary wind blowing her white robes and hair.

"Hellmaster Rangort, how is the harvest?" she said, her voice congenial.

Rangort's face sharply turned to Zelas, green eyes glowering.

"Zelas ," Rangort growled. "What do you want here?"

"What, this is all the greeting I get? Perhaps I came to ask about why the wind dragons are trying to create something like a unified dragon nation. Are you conspiring against me?"

"Are you?"

Off course Zelas was, but that wasn't really the point right now.

"Have you become touchy, new Hellmaster?" She held up the captured souls. "These dragons here, they've found out about Val and the involvement of my priest. It would help if you could sent them in their way quickly, if you please."

With too symmetrical steps, Rangort walked over and snatched the souls from Zelas.

"I did not plan to send anyone towards Megiddo anytime soon," Rangort droned. "We're making such good efforts with postponing reincarnation. Most souls keep their sense of time for more than three years even without biological clock. Though I suppose a few dragons will make no difference."

Hir power folded over the souls and for a moment the dragons had joy. They recognized their god, held hope and faith and the overwhelming sensation of holy power nearer than they ever had dreamed. Those few seconds of bliss were enough to make Zelas's proverbial stomach churn.

Then Rangort ripped their astral bodies to pieces. Two dragons had enough identity to realize what was happened and spoke the beginning of a plea, Rangort forgot about this a second after she let go. The gravity of Megiddo swept the blank souls away.

Though the woman's face remained impassive, Zelas smelled Milina's conflict. She had never been a religious person so there was not much to break, but she had to understand what she had just witnessed. Not merely death, but true cessation of a person. Absolute erase, and absolute lack of guilt on behalf of either deity.

Less affected were the Ancient Dragons. They had long since accepted what the gods were like. After all, Vrabazard hadn't cared enough to drop his temple a simple line like, "Stop committing genocide on pacifists, it's not nice."

More over, they knew the last of their kind retained life because of these twelve dying. For ancient dragons, whose DNA was all but wiped out, there was no reincarnation. If their astral form eroded away, they'd just be an aimless specter, forever trapped here with a half-mind. A mixture of Val and cloning was their last hope.

A rather dimwitted hope, as far as Zelas was concerned. They better spend time on staying themselves. Many liked to think of reincarnation as a continuation for a person when in reality it was recycling. Whether by gods's claws, choice or Hell's astral corrosion, an individual ended just like that. That a soul remained changed nothing like that. For a thousand years, Zelas had questioned why devils who desired cessation so much could not give up and end themselves at times they realized they would never get what they wanted most.

That was why every time she was here, she entered the cathedral and told this to its prisoners. That, and long therm planning to ensure Rangort didn't find it strange if she wanted to hang out here for a little longer. That planning would bear fruit today, because Milina only now took off and would take a little while.

Rangort did not question her as Zelas pushed open the heavy door, it did not matter to gods if anyone was tortured as long as they did not need to taste it.

Pulsing red light flared out of the center of the dark hall, energy so thick that soon Zelas could not even feel Rangort's power in the walls anymore. Sound was quenched and the flow died here. Zelas stood in the rotting corpse of a decapitated Ruby Eye Shabranigdu, and the heart of this corpse was a man in a spherical cage.

When a piece of Shabranigdu was destroyed while the host soul practiced influence, a ghost remained due to the chimera process. Like the Knights, but the power had a direct tie to sentience. Luke Yuukaral was one such a ghost. Lezo Greywords had found him and take him under his wing with the intent to teach him to govern the power. Zelas had joined this effort once it became relevant to her goals, but the official story to Rangort was that they would destroy the remaining power of Ruby Eye. E was fooled so easily Zelas could not even take pride in it.

Luke floated in the center of a wiry cage of dark red stone, curled up with his head low. The cage kept him in place should he lose control, but what really did it was his sheer willpower. Luke would have no destruction because Milina was out there and he was firmly against her cessation. A metallic band covered his mouth, preventing him and Shabranigdu from speaking. Even if he was a chimera now, Zelas and any other devil were still bound to obey his every command spoken in Ruby Eye's voice. This was too much of a risk.

When he saw her, he rolled his eyes. Luke always sat through her little rants with annoyance, but didn't make a big deal out of it. After all, Zelas and her project was his best shot at ever walking out of here to be with Milina. There wasn't much complaining to be done in front of the big boss.

"Mister Luke, not today. Today, be alert. You see, the plan will have to be sped up. I'll need to know the signature of the two untainted hosts."

She flicked a cigarette and a smoke into plasmic form and spent the time bringing him up to date with the recent developments. He couldn't ask, but as Zelas could smell and taste his emotions it wasn't difficult to steer a conversation. Curiosity was obvious, if a neutral emotion.

Within reasonable time, Milina returned. Though the thick haze of power, they barely heard her holler her lines. Snuffing out her cigarette, Zelas turned to the weakest section of the walls.

Said wall was kind enough to explode without knocking Luke's cage out of orbit. Milina burst through a dust cloud, flying backwards to keep her eyes on her pursuer. Atop the rubble posed an unimpressive man with wild eyes and over embroidered cloak, the kind of person that liked to make an awesome impression but had spectacularly failed to grasp how this was done.

He roared to the ceiling, causing a few bricks to fall down right on top of him. Zelas, Milina and Luke exchanged an embarrassed look. Then Milina opened the door of Luke's cage and stepped in. Luke encased her with his power while Milina put forth a wing and tended to the feathers, bored already.

The host of Shabranigdu, one of seven, Doom To The World, was dusting off his coat and never realized that in this reality he could just will away dust. Zelas flicked her cigarette holder into a emerald encrusted sword; red handle adorned with green to support shining metal blade. There was a subtle mockery in this that had always gone over Shabranigdu's heads.

The host squinted his eyes, spotted Milina and unleashed an attack of generic fire waves without further thought. Zelas popped in the way and cut it apart like paper, getting rid of the dust clouds in the same move.

"That was all?" Milina asked. She prepared to get out, but Luke tugged her arm, causing Milina to roll her eyes. "I really doubt that guy's trying to trick us."

Zelas chuckled. The first wisp of the host's emotional miasma painted a personality much like Fibrizo, minus the sharp mind. "Don't worry, mister Luke. It's a fool alright."

"You, I command you to attack that god outside!" the host hollered.

Tsss. For all the power of that little soul, it was not the voice of Shabranigdu. She smiled as she floated over to that pathetic thing that hadn't even figured out he didn't need to walk here.

"Hmmm, perhaps I don't really feel like it," she said, placing a curled finger thoughtfully on her cheek. "Should I? Should I not?"

She spun around her axis and around him, the edges of her toga whirling around her. Her ethereal form been one chosen intentionally, modeled after the stereotypical saint but a little more provocative. In Hell where all instinct to breed was gone, its effect was more one of memory, but it usually was a pleasant memory to men. Something to play with. This man was no exception.

"Y-you're one of the five retainers, so you should help me regain my power!"

"Cute, thinks he can be Shabranigdu," she whispered as she laid her arms around his neck. For a few moments she held him with her eyes and let him enjoy the view, then she bore her nails in the back of his neck. "Yet can't even see the wolf whose jaws he is in."

Her power bore into the soul's astral body, thin threads rapidly infecting it's magic. She would remember this soul's mgic and forever be able to track it, and as a bonus the host gave off some tasty miasma.

"What are you ... why are you not obeying?" he stammered.

Tilting her head a little to the side, she smiled sweetly.

"Fibrizo lied when he told you dreams of dominion would come true. Shabranigdu takes you over and you are erased from existence," Zelas said. "All that changes is that you'll be entering cessation for me and not for him. Oh, and for future reference, my name is not you. To your kind, I am Zelas Metaliom, Beast Monarch or Greater Beast. Only those I will accept. Remember that."

She tore her nails out of him, leaving sharp marks across his back. The host crumpled down, Zelas kicked him a few feet further before he hit ground. Humiliation tasted so good, especially when fortified by a massive astral being.

The sealed Shabranigdu fumed at the treatment, yet he made no attempt to rectify her. It'd take too much effort for what he believed was honest dissent for a lowly human. Let him believe so.

"Earthlord Rangort," she said as she tapped the floor. "Pay attention."

Roots broke from the cracking floor and encased the host in a similar way to Luke, though this cage had no door. Zelas tapped the curled bars as she floated by and said, "Enjoy your stay. Do try to harm miss Milina, Luke will be glad to introduce you to what a smarter human can do with Ruby Eye's power. You might learn something."

Luke made an offended sound behind her, Milina just sighed and said, "Calm down. Rangort will take them back to Golgotha later."

Outside, the other host chased down Ancient Dragons, so sick with glee he did not notice Rangort. The host leaped for one of the dragons, wholly intent to harm it, only to be plucked away from spontaneously manifesting roots.

When the second host was encased safely, Zelas approached it. This was a child, one of similar disposition as the other. Both tasted like immature, sadistic, egomaniacs and since this one was trying to bite his way out of the cage, Zelas concluded it was another idiot too.

They were likely here because they liked Fibrizo as their playmate, the only thing that could possibly persuade any human to stay in the Hellmaster's presence. The one caveat was that such humans loved too much, be it in a twisted way. They loved power, loved that there was a world to control, and they lacked the disposition to rise in power when they lived. They could never be brought to hate enough for Shabranigdu to awaken and they lacked the magical prowess for alternate awakenings.

"How dare you defy your lord!" the child screeched, pointing at Zelas with a tiny finger. "Free us!"

"How indeed? My favorite theory is that you cannot control chaos to follow the same pattern all the time and I'm one of those pattern breakers. Or maybe, you are not my lord and king," Zelas said with an extra layer of smugness.

Rangort stretched out hir long neck so e came face to face with Zelas, now in the form of a wormlike dragon. Another act for the watching dragons, so Zelas reignited her cigarette and took a breath, every bit the image of nonchalant aristocrat. The message : not impressed.

"Chaos like how these two just happen to break out right when you're visiting here, Greater Beast?"

"Aaah, that would have been me, actually!" a shrill someone called. "Sorry I'm late!"

There jumped up what looked like an elderly human on the plasmic plane and a red, coiling devil on the astral plane. Quite the bastardization of Shabranigdu's power, a truth easier to achieve for him as his piece had no will.

"Oh, hello there, mister Laust," Zelas said. "How are you enjoying the afterlife?"

"Wonderful!" To enforce this, he twirled around on one foot. "Dying peacefully of old age isn't half as good as people make it sound, you have to wait so long to get to the good stuff! And I am so much more useful here nowadays. So not going to reincarnate anytime soon, I like this new Hell very much."

Good. He didn't buy into that 'the soul lives on' shit, he had made a true and successful effort of surviving reincarnation. Though he held less power than the Knight of Siephied or even the Knight of Ragradia, the Knight of Shabranigdu used what he had well.

"Explain!" Rangort demanded. Anger was just about the most of a distinct emotion e made.

"Just helping out a friend," Laust said innocently, clasping his hands behind his back as he bowed to the god. "Heard the Beast Monarch was here and was so curious what she'd say about these hosts."

"If she was affected by Shabranigdu's call, we'd have a disaster on our hands! You fool!" the god hollered, sending tremors through the hills and cathedral.

Said the pot to the spot clean kettle that only happened to be black.

"Oh, worry not, Earthlord. Who knows better what Ruby Eye can and cannot do than I do?" On the astral plane, his monstrous body smirked with five mouths and waved seventeen hands, some at the god, while others gave the middle finger to the nearby host of Shabranigdu.

Zelas chuckled despite herself. With Rangort distracted, she astrally reached out to the second host. Proximity would have been better, but she could make it work. She pinched off a little piece of power and let it go at once; enough to learn the magical signature.

"Rangort, dear, you'll never convince that man of the need for your sense of protocol. Remember, he got along so well with Lina Inverse," she said once she no longer needed a distraction.

"—better things to do than beach resorts ... " Rangort stopped and considered what Zelas said, swallowed hir pride (thanks goodness, Zelas never could figure out whether she liked its taste or not, especially when it's something that Rangort only displayed so inconsistently) and picked up Laust. E set him down over at the group of Ancient Dragons. "Do not let him leave."

"Ah, and here I thought we'd get no privacy at all," Zelas said, swaying her hip to the right. "But really, Rangort, no beach resort? I assure you they are quite lovely once you develop the taste for them."

"I have no need for developing mortal pleasures," Rangort stated. "Tell me what you're up to, Zelas."

This was not something Zelas would walk away from without explanation, apparently.

"Let's say I want precautions. If Vrabazard shows up in Hell and kicks the hosts into Megiddo, we lose experimental potential. At the very least, I will find them back on my own. Would you have trusted me if I told you to let me drive magic into them otherwise?"

"No."

"Well then, that is your fault. Be thankful for mister Laust that he placed reason ahead of your instinct to resent me. You'll be finding my more reliable than you think."

It was a feeble excuse, and she smelled it did not fall into accepting earth. More spice was needed.

"Besides, how quickly do you believe the other retainers will act, now they have noticed the gods are planning something? The gods have never taken the first initiative and I assure you that Deep Sea Dalphin is a very sharp mind. She has a thing for emotionally exploitable boys, she'd love to steal away one from Hell."

E still doubted, for as far as Zelas could smell, but without an accompanying face she couldn't read more. "I assume cleaning up those dragons and figuring out the host's identities is not the only thing you came here to do?"

Zelas smiled a little wider. The line had been bitten. "No, as a matter of fact, there is another little thing regarding an Ancient Dragon with his adoptive mother."

Beat.

Oh, come on!

"The one who adopted the reborn Valgarv," she flatly said. "You will have heard me mention him."

"I'm aware of it. A wonder they let it live, given the likelihood of a miserable future. Killing it right now would leave it happiest in Hell. What about it?"

"Xelloss isn't making much progress, not quick enough. Perhaps the child can. He doesn't consciously remember anything, but a lot of those strange patterns remain, he'll learn quickly. It would fit quite well into the shield protocols I am developing."

"Hmm. You are certain he doesn't have ideas from the past life?"

"None the least. He is very loyal to Filia Ul Copt. I say we speed up things, relocate a few things. How about I help you bring those things back to their prison, and then we shall speak?"

"I don't need your help," Rangort said.

Zelas shrugged and leaned back, just in time for her wolf to run up behind her. She scratched him behind the ear and they purred together as they watched the humorless god go abouts hir way. The time was spent by Zelas mentally putting together the new pieces and figuring out how to play Rangort further.

Megiddo, gods, devils, all deities and little world walls. She wasn't certain where the next unexpected thing to throw her plan awry would come from, but it was likely something much smaller than them.

Rangort returned soon, neither smug nor satisfied with hir quick work. They changed the plan, and Zelas was sent away.

On her way back, she passed through Fibrizo's canyon was a last minute errand.

Fibrizo's burns lined the dark walls, more erratic ones across what had once been systematic, smooth carving. He had lost his reason, had done useless things. Zelas defined her projection to feel small sensations in the fingertips, it was like his madness given form.

To raise power against the Lord of Nightmares, to not accept that she might want anything but destruction.

She did not want to imagine how he must have felt when the Mother Of All Things seemed to betray him, but she imagined it anyway. It was her safeguard against similar arrogant mistakes. She would no go down the way he had done, blind to what was truly happening in the worlds and beyond.

The method to his madness had begun during the War of the Devil's Fall. All five retainers knew their lord, but they had never truly seen him. For the other four, Lei Magnus was their first meeting. Fibrizo had grown restless shortly after, unstable to the point where Lei Magnus took Garv to war despite Fibrizo being more powerful.

Zelas had a theory that Fibrizo had realized that even a complete Shabranigdu could not break down the walls of the world, or perhaps he'd looked too closely at the way chimerization corrupted. Whatever he had learned, it had eaten at him.

How many hours had Fibrizo wasted in the bowels of Hell, testing the power of the hosts? How many hosts had he known, had he tried to torture into hating so much that Ruby Eye would awaken, only for them to simply fall into Megiddo?

How hard had it been for him to feign friendship to hosts that would soon learn that he could not care for anything, before finding and keeping those two? He might well have met a thousand incarnations of hosts. Children that had died too early, people that had taken their life to prevent an awakening. Every time, he'd have been forced to ask why something as simple as a human could contain a deity's power.

Then there was Garv, merged with the soul and corrupted by it, yet without losing power. His progeny, Valgarv, similarly in favor of existence and bring along a conscience to boot. Souls did not break, devils did.

Reason would have whispered every time, what if the system is in favor of existence? You see my child, there exists a principle of balance.

The Lord of Nightmares before him, uncorrupted yet still with mercy for the world. He had made up his own explanation, and imagined wrong.

Questions could save one or drive one mad. Zelas had rigged her coin for the former.

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