This man made me write this. Give him thanks and headpats.

Immortal Imperium - The Foundations of an Empire

Post art of Leviathan in comments. Scaled, Tall, Dragon and or Sea Serpent. Or I can just use the one bellow. But I was planning on using it for Bune.


Aim raised an eyebrow as he felt a distant signature rise from outside his cave. It'd been two days since his 'fateful' battle with Gabriel. He'd sallied out with his remaining legions a day after to give the angelic warfront proof of his continued existence; just to rub salt in Gabriel's wound. Because psychological warfare was the best kind of warfare.

After that, it was business as usual.

Aim was something of a researcher. Not a real intellectual, in that sense he was more of a mad-scientist. He liked skipping the boring bits of science, or invented other means of hastening the process to 'get to the fun parts'. In that respect, Aim created biological computers based off his own brain, ensouled with stolen demonic souls he took from random Devils; the souls themselves getting white-washed in concentrated holy-light to remove any trace of individuality, then were directly corrupted by a unique magic he created known as a 'soul seed' that corrupted the souls into a one-for-one image of his own. Effectively, he was cloning himself on the most base-levels, but the 'body' he put his 'clones' into were specifically curated and cultivated vat-brains that were linked up in a gestalt network. Drawing on the concept of Dreams, Aim had created a sort of virtual playground that allowed his Brains to endlessly calculate and experiment with complex magics or enforced rules of reality.

His unique mind gave him the freedom of memory and memorization to codify entirely made-up languages within complex ciphers. It was specifically required when effectively inventing mundane chemistry and mystic alchemical practices. Being born within some form of B.C was rather annoying in that there were no giants that he could stand on; meaning that there weren't years of banal research that he could rely on to figure something out. Knowledge built on itself, which meant that Aim, even with his advanced intellect, was stuck either cheating with the bullshit of magic and demonic energy; or slowly testing things out with the assistance of magic verifying his research process without need for endless clinical studies.

In his fourteen-years of life, Aim had personally written eighty seven books on chemistry and alchemical theory; all of it codified in the written form of the Black Tongue, hard locking the knowledge to an entity that could resist the toxic Demonic Energy baked into the ink and the concept of the language itself. Not to mention that Aim enjoyed cursing his books just out of simple principle, and that the Black Tongue itself was only known to himself, or that he actively used ciphers referencing modern slang to further obscure the subject matter. Or used complex code-phrases that he'd personally memorized, like Whiskey-Foxtrot-Delta, written in completely plain English to add increasing levels of complexity to understanding the knowledge written within.

With the invention of the Brains, finalized a mere few years ago, Aim allowed them to control servitors, literally ripped from Warhammer 40k, to write up theses, research papers, spell formulas, and other more banal forms of information and knowledge that he might require. Servitors themselves were effectively just eternally loyal clones of himself that followed the gestalt consciousness of the Brains; thus allowing them to perform their own experiments. Thus, he had a constant staff of researchers and agents usually realmed within the Mid-Class of strength that used advanced tactics to hit above their level; obtaining him research material that he didn't have the time to, or otherwise was too 'hot' for him to personally go out and obtain.

His Laboratory was molded after the Nine Circles of Hell, after all, and the Second Circle; Lust, was effectively a massive library of knowledge that his Brains cooked up in their experiments down on the Circle of Violence. His last census of the Circle of Lust was around 67 Million Books; massive considering he'd only just gotten started producing such three years ago. But, when working with magic and Brain Computers that worked on different time-scales, shit just got done.

Aim remembered from his mortal life that Devils, or the 72 Demons of the Ars Goetia, were meant to be purveyors of knowledge. The ever traditional Faustian Bargain comes to mind, and Aim was certainly more than willing to get his hands on some pure mortal souls.

He had ideas for humanity. Very wonderful ideas indeed.

Maybe he'd sell the translated or transcribed versions of the books, but for now he was rather interested in safe-guarding his unique knowledge, and thus the anal-retentive security he had with the subjects he wrote. He was currently blitzing through a book that was generated by a Brain that recorded the experimental data of Demonic-Holy-Light; a mutagenic creation by harvesting the background radiation of Holy Light that God's descent on the Underworld created. It was a feat of energy transmogrification that was only possible within a space-of-realm that was separate from God's System; easily accomplished within the Underworld and a few Spatial reorganizations that bled the Dimensional Gap into reality.

Aim wasn't really impressed with his findings of the energy type, resulting in an energy that held clashing potential that ultimately tripped over itself to do everything the other did; just worse and at the same time.

With a deep sigh, Aim removed the tendril of nerve-fibers that had attached to the nape of his neck, and stretched from his chair.

He receded from his laboratory and tron-scanned himself up to his cave-home, then walked to the entrance. There was no door. They hadn't been invented yet. God's Pearly Gates were truly ahead of their time.

Standing hesitant at his cave entrance were two individuals. One of which was Zepar, the little twink of a Devil awkwardly shuffling as he stared at the other individual. Satan Leviathan was a tall woman, standing above the shorter man, rubbing his pink hair between two clawed fingers.

Leviathan wasn't a Devil. Not something entirely unique, as many of the 72 were former angels corrupted into Devils like Lucifer. Others were born from Lilith, like himself.

She was, however, something of a native resident of the Underworld. More specifically she was native to one of its great-lakes, Abyssiad, a Lake that had no end in depth due to a spatial anomaly that expanded the lake's depth endlessly. The waters were rumored to be taken from the Dimensional Gap itself; the spatial anomaly swallowing the Dimensional Gap's water, consuming it all for itself. The Gap, in that respect, was similar to Space itself; filled with endless amounts of random matter-material.

Aim had never spoken to Leviathan, as she was a dangerous creature at the best of times; always looking to take what wasn't her's. Known as the Deadly Sin of Envy, Leviathan was a creature that was best kept away at arm's length, for as beautiful as the woman with brilliant green, blue, and purple scales covering perfect skin was; she was rumored to be a bitter tasting poison in terms of personality.

The woman was currently teasing an uncomfortable looking Zepar, groping the gay man's crotch as she throatily hummed and toyed with him. Leviathan and Zepar were rumored to actually be rather good friends, as could be seen by the pouty look Zepar was giving Leviathan.

"Stahp it!" He whined, "You're messing up my hair…"

A throaty laugh left Leviathan's curled lips, "You're such a little snack, Zepar. Hoping that little Amy will snap you up? I've heard rumors that he's asexual." She whispered such slanderous slander that Aim was unable to keep his own slander back.

"And I heard you were a limp snake in bed." Aim said roughly, slouching forward as he stalked from the darkness of his cave. He was wearing newly fashioned Devil-Skin clothing, a personal staple. The devils he skinned were all pieces of scum no different than animals, and wearing a person tended to shut people up and have them respect his authority more. It didn't help that Devil Skin was also a rather powerful magical material that channeled the protective words of the Black Script to a degree of efficiency he'd yet to see matched by any other material.

Leviathan snapped her head to him, her blue hair like waves falling around her voluptuous form. "Oh? And where'd you hear that, Amy?" Her voice curdled in his ears.

"Baal." Aim said bluntly. "Did you see his face when you three were named Satans, by the way? Made my day." Aim grinned slightly, hidden under his mask of devil skin.

Leviathan giggled, nodding with enthusiasm, "Oh, yes. It was delightful."

Aim smiled, and glanced at the hunched over form of Zepar. "Zep. Are you here for my promise?" He asked.

The twink perked up, eyes glittering with hope. Aim grinned back and nodded. "Head inside, you'll find the living room quickly. Just sit down and I'll get everything ready."

"S-sure!" Zepar filtered behind Aim, vanishing into the darkness.

Aim then nodded at Leviathan, gesturing and from the earth rose two seats of stone. Aim sat down on one, and raised an eyebrow towards Leviathan. The woman hummed a tune, sitting down seductively as she grew a smile on her face, "Why does Lucifer show you such favor, Aim?" She asked, "He told me directly that he considered you for my position…" She frowned deeply, and Aim saw the issue. She felt slighted that her position was something guaranteed.

"Lucifer likes me for my unique perspective and mind; my intelligence, brutality, and effectiveness. I go above his expectations of the 72, and that has earned me his attention." Aim explained bluntly, "I refused him when he offered me the possibility, by the way." Gesturing to her, "As I imagine this conversation would be far more…violent if I had accepted."

Leviathan grew a smile, her pride in her strength showing as plain as day as her chest thrust out with validation. Aim saw that she thought he was afraid of her power, and felt his own pride flair; but with practiced ease he crushed it into the hole it belonged. 'Be weak when you are powerful and strong. Be strong when you are weak and vulnerable.'

"Good." Leviathan murmured, "I came today for…recruitment efforts. Lucifer has told me that he has risen you to the Rank of President; and that you are to engage in diplomatic relationships with other pantheonic entities, pagans, and lesser creatures. I too have been charged in securing the alliance, or at least continued neutrality of certain elements within this war." She frowned, "Lucifer has told me to work with you in this respect."

Aim frowned, "If you desire a lackey, you will not find one here. Lucifer has titled me as President, the face of the Devil Race; I would be remiss to make that face look...ugly."

Leviathan gained an edge to her as she stood up and sauntered to him. She rounded his own chair, a hand coasting along his shoulder. "So you do have a spine…" She whispered, and Aim frowned deeply, feeling a briney feeling of pressure start to press down on the environment.

"Cease this, Leviathan. You will not like the results." Aim uttered, his eyes hardening.

Leviathan leaned over him, her mouth nearly against his ear, "You will submit." She whispered.

"And you will find yourself destroyed in your attempt. Remade in my image."

Aim felt her clawed fingers cut at his throat, and he didn't flinch a bit, just staring with dead eyes at the seat of stone she'd vacated. He heard her click her tongue, claws receding from his neck as she rounded him entirely, a pouting look on her face, "The other Satans will see me as lesser if I do not bring you under my control." She whispered, a cold look of calculation on her face, "Give me something, and I will not crush you under my bulk."

Aim had to restrain the comment to call her fat. "I care not for what you tell others, but if we are to work together, we shall have a working agreement. My reputation is something that I have cultivated, and I will be miffed if you ruin it; spin a tale, something that makes you look better for having claimed or conquered the fearsome Aim. Start collecting allies, not servants, and you shall rise as a seemingly invincible political and militant power within the Underworld."

Leviathan visibly considered it, "This…working agreement. Elaborate."

"Mutual respect." Aim stated. "I am a Devil Lord; treat me as such, and I will treat you as a Satan. I am not a slave or pathetic peon that you can play with like a child toying with ants. And in our specific circumstances, on the job, we will need to act together; to play on the same stage, reading the same script. The other pantheons won't take us seriously if we project the image of a divided and chaotic people, potential conquerors, shit flinging monkeys, or brutal slavers; they will be considering everything that we portray. They will evaluate our culture, our clothing, our words, how we speak, how we hold ourselves, how we talk to one another, and so much more. To that, we must agree on the message we are projecting to the world, and to the specific polity we are targeting."

New respect brewed in Leviathan's eyes, the woman biting her lip as she leaned back, truly considering Aim's words. "You have put real thought into this position." Leviathan muttered.

"And you are more concerned with your title and domestic politics than performing well within your position." Aim stated bluntly, drawing a visible wince from the woman. "Which is understandable," He cut in before she could refute his statement, "And thus Lucifer has the wisdom to give you a delegate." He gestured to himself, "This works wonderfully for myself, as you will be acting as my aegis within the game of politics; for I will be under your banner." Aim grinned, "I find this situation agreeable, but there need be lines drawn in the stone; crossing them will sully this working relationship, and what could've been something good, can be not so."

Leviathan nodded, the woman then turning to him with interest and curiosity in her eyes, "What did you mean by forming those…alliances." She asked, lounging back onto the stone throne he'd conjured.

Aim grinned, leaning forward, "You need allies. Asmodeus is a dirty cheater in this respect, but he's also going to be making enemies; the man whore will be using his uncanny looks and sexual attraction to sway Demonic Pillars to his side. But judging on his personality, he'll squander their potential and it'll remain an unorganized political block. The Underworld exists within a tumultuous state right now; currently in a state of war which distracts from the bigger picture of grand civilization. There remains the question of what happens when this war ends? Who will be remaining? What factions will stand the test of time? Who will rule the Underworld when Lucifer sits on the marbled throne of God? To this, I ask you to start building a political faction within the Underworld; first, generate a political ideology, things that you want either built, changed, done, believed in, or created. Convince others to believe this message, rally up support using the war and hatred of other races; like the angelic factions, or Pantheons that insult us, representatives and diplomats of the Devil Race. Zepar, myself, the unambitious, the unaligned, the creatives, the fence sitters; find a target demographic to mold your message around." Aim leaned back on his throne, enjoying the enthralled look of awe on Leviathan's face as he spoke, "Currently, the political situation of the Underworld is divided in several Ordos. The Hedonists, the Hellhounds, Heaven's Rebels, the Original Sins, The Legion, and the Pillar Centralists."

Some recognition passed over Leviathan's face, but he could tell it bothered her she didn't know others of these political orders. "I believe the Hedonists are Asmodeus' faction, Heaven's Rebels would be Lucifer's adjutants, the original fallen, and the Six Houses." Leviathan murmured in deliberation, "But the others I don't know." She looked miffed admitting that.

Aim nodded, "Some of them are gestating factions, I'll admit. You were correct, by the way. The Hedonists will be Asmodeus' loyal posse of pleasure seekers; loud fools that can sway opinion with the ease of a smile, or a promise of a blowjob." Aim frowned as he spoke of them, "Useful if you can manipulate them, not so if you need to publicly announce something that they'll disapprove of. They're a loud majority, and easily swayed by Asmodeus; thankfully the man isn't likely to be an active political adherent, but he could act as a chaos factor and obstacle."

Leviathan nodded, taking her legs up into her seat and perching up on the throne as she listened to Aim speak. "The Rebels, meanwhile, will be Lucifer's Lapdogs and Sycophants. Lucifer himself is our Lord, of course, but the man himself is the ultimate chaos factor. If he declares that the sky is blue instead of purple; then let it be so. Lucifer is our Lord, and I believe that one of the most critical things we can do as servants of the man is to act as reliable support for him." Aim grimaced, "... I do not believe Lucifer to be the most mentally stable of individuals. He has surrounded himself in an echo-chamber where he can only hear the validation of his own thoughts and words. His own inherent chaos-factor means he jumps out of it, but even that echoes as something right and correct. There exists risk in being a voice of reason within a house of madness; most notably Lucifer's wrath. But if we let the house of madness rot, then Lucifer will decay with it." Aim sighed, "The man with one eye is King in a realm of the blind, after all; even just a little reason can be special in the court of none."

Aim found Leviathan rooted in her position, hugging her legs with narrowed eyes that widened; realization passing by with each second ticking, a startling truth shining through that statement, truth that had her…think. It had her thinking about a lot of things.

Aim continued on with his summary, "The Hellhounds, meanwhile, are the bloodthirsty warmongers. So long as we're killing things, they'll be happy. They are potentially our most dangerous political enemy, as we'll be advocating 'peace and friendship' with others in return for more critical war-resources, information, or allies; which the barking mad, the bloodthirsty, the insane, and the muscle-brained brutes won't care about, or understand. If the Hedonists are an issue of Lust; halting any form of change that decreases their access to fulfilling their sin, the Rebels are an issue of Pride, and the Hellhounds are an issue of Wrath."

While Leviathan digested that information, a hint of curiosity crossed her face, "What Sin do you hold dear to, Aim?"

The Devil Lord snorted, "Technically it's Sloth."

Leviathan stared at him with wide eyes, "Sloth." She stated in disbelief.

Aim chuckled, "I have my means of magically or chemically altering my mindset to be dramatically more productive; effectively strangeling my most natural sin by being ironically Diligent. In turn my other sins are more exasperated, although I have my moments of sloth; it tends to leak into my actions, words, and personality instead of being a dominating need. A sort of…natural apathy, if you would."

Leviathan opened her mouth, but then closed it the next second. She seemed to war with herself for a moment, before eventually belting out, "Continue."

Aim nodded, "The Original Sins are those like yourself and Beelzebub, Asmodeus could be considered as well, but he's already formed his political block while you two haven't." He saw her become envious, to which Aim chuckled, a blush forming on Leviathan's face as she realized she just got caught out. Right after a conversation where Aim admitted to being capable of controlling his Sin. New jealous desire sparked in Leviathan's eyes; self-destructive, although not in a negative way. "Beelzebub is a mystery to me; he's a very mysterious man, yes?" Leviathan nodded. Her fellow Satan was ever the dangerous rogue.

Aim hummed, "Then it's likely he's playing up being a spy; he might very well be listening to this conversation, gathering information, playing the role of a central intelligence organization. Likely acting to remove dissidents to his ideal of a state and using underhanded means of removing threats, or some other such nonsense." Aim let out an exhausted breath, "How tiring; just thinking about it is giving me stress."

A buzz sounded out, a dozen flies buzzing about, then fifty, then a hundred, then thousands; eventually collecting into a single entity. He cocked his head, the floppy hat on his head tilting to the side, "How?"

"Detection Magic, and flies aren't native to the Underworld; especially your favored genus. That and they all project various information magics to a distant location. You might want to secure that connection, otherwise someone could do something like this." Aim gestured towards a random fly, and Beelzebub flinched as the fly exploded; feeling a thousand needles burning inside his brain for a short second. Aim deadpanned at Beelzebub, "I could've cursed you through the connection, by the by." He shrugged, glancing at the scheming and somewhat pissed look of Leviathan.

Beelzebub meanwhile bowed slightly to Aim, "I wish to acquire your means of managing your Sin. It is…annoying, constantly feeling like I'm starving. That, and my own Envy troubles me."

Leviathan stood up, "I'd like it just the same." She said with girl boss energy.

"Sure, sure." A conniving smile curled on Aim's face, "You two wouldn't want to ally with one another? A secret policing organization that can spy on political dissidents while the other leverages natural charisma to attract and persuade Pillars into supporting you. My own research and inventions; the power we could control." Aim grinned, seeing the sparking interest in both Satans. "We could lay the foundations of an Empire. Lucifer has named ye' Lords of Hell. So, rule." He shrugged, laying back with a Devil May Care smile, delighting in the sparking neurons of the two before him.

Beezlebub buzzed, "If Leviathan can control her Sin, I'd be amenable. I don't want to set her off randomly." He said with a look directed towards Leviathan. "I myself require my own Envy, Pride, and Gluttony to be reigned back to even conceptualize such an agreement. Without them, with greater control over ourselves and our natures…this is possible."

Leviathan twitched, "Fucking…gah. Get this damnable Sin out of me." She hissed, demanding and firm.

Aim smiled, standing, "Follow. I'll finish with my little political lesson, if you desire?" He moved into his cave, the two Satans on his seven and five-o-clock.

"I am curious about the Legion and Pillar Centrists myself." Beelzebub stated.

Leviathan grunted her own affirmation.

"I'll start with the weakest faction; Devil Kind, our Legions." Eyebrows were raised. "The Legions are our Tools, of course, but they grow. Both in number, strength, and maturity. Some of your legionnaires will survive, and continue to survive; developing throughout this war as survivors that have seen more battles than most they have slept within the year. Most Devils outside of ourselves and the Pillars are pathetically weak, but they grow in strength as they imbibe souls, train, and practice; potentially even unlocking powers beyond our race, like Senjutsu or the Eastern art of manipulating Life Force. It is entirely possible for a benign and lowly Devil to rise to the occasion and become a High-Class entity. We should be ready for when that happens."

Distaste filtered from Leviathan, "You mean to give them nobility?"

"Not exactly." Aim said as he rounded a corner in his cave-home, finding Zepar raiding his fridge. "Zepar, enjoy yourself and make yourself home." The Pillar Devil froze cutely, a piece of soft white bread in his mouth, making Beelzebub buzz. "I'll be up in a bit and we can have some fun."

"O-okay." Zepar whispered, then went back to stuffing himself.

Aim continued along, "I'm just pointing out the potential of our Legions; how you wish to deal with them is, of course, your prerogative." Aim gave the two side eyes, "I have no desire to actually rule Hell, but I am entirely fine with being an arm-chair general and advisor." He chuckled, a bit of mischievous humor entering his eyes, "Let me…Aim you in the right direction." Puns not having been invented yet had both of Satan's crack stifled giggles.

Waving the humor away, Aim continued, "Just know that by alienating potentially powerful commanders of various Legions, if the political situation within the Underworld becomes fraught or tumultuous; then you will need to face potential seditious elements. I believe that incorporating a bit of upward mobility within the structure of the Underworld's political machine could be beneficial in collecting talented individuals that you could form a sort of…peerage or retinue out of. Servants, instead of colleagues." Leviathan nodded along, although it looked like she still didn't enjoy the idea; while Beelzebub was buzzing.

"A wonderful idea." The man murmured.

"Thank you." Aim said blandly. "The last of the important political groups would be Baal's lackeys." He said with audible distaste. "Baal fancies himself a Lord of Hell, and it was obvious how slighted he was when you three were made Satans. Lucifer sees Baal as a beast of destruction; however, that isn't necessarily true. Baal is a brutal creature, true, one who flexes his power to get what he wants and destroys what he hates; but he's politically savvy. He's figured out some inane personal philosophy about how strength and power is the most important resource to Devil Kind, and as 'the most powerful' he'll be leveraging his personal strength to corral a personal block of politically aligned, blackmailed, threatened, or strong-armed individuals into his loyal puppets. The man's a survivor, and willing to play the long game." Aim glanced over to see both of them plotting.

Good.

Turning into a room and gesturing to a teleportation array. "You are about to enter my Laboratory. Do not touch anything. Do not read anything; everything within my Lab is either encrypted, cursed, or sealed. You enter at your own peril. I'll be scouring my lab for bugs, although I do encourage you to try and plant some anyway; good practice for my information defenses."

Beelzebub chuckled, walking forward onto the array, followed by the rest of the trio. With a snap, they appeared somewhere else. They were in a sealed environment that was separated from the laboratory by a massive vault door that had both Satans gawking. It was a modern vault-gate in the sense of its technological design; inspired mainly by the vaults from the Fallout franchise. However, instead of merely being a modernized plate of steel, this vault door was stylized with a design element that invoked ancient evil. Made from refined Adamantium, a composite of Stygian Iron and Hellbeast Blood that he named Necronium, the Vault Door looked less like it was made of a metallic substance and more like it was made from a reflective stone. Black in color, the door was utterly covered in seals made from devil-skin, hell-beast parchment, and sealed into these papers were the tortured souls of seventy-seven-thousand Angels; a prize from a distant engagement. The Vault Gate of Apocrypha was designed as a spatial trap; engineered to arrest unrecognized spatial signatures to trap within the Vault Gate, where the seventy-seven-thousand souls of tortured angels would spiritual, magically, physically, and mentally violate the invader.

"Whiskey, Echo, Whiskey, Lima, Alpha, Delta." The vault's edges started to leak blood, filling the floor with the liquid, the watching Satans staring at the phenomena in wary awe; that became alarm as they started to sink into the layer of blood. "Just let it take you." Aim said, closing his eyes as he was taken under.

Then he opened them as a pool of blood within his laboratory spawned, he and the two Satans rising from the pool of blood. "Welcome to my innermost sanctum. And remember the rules." Aim stated, gesturing towards an extravagant and absolutely massive laboratory.

It was a madhouse filled with activity, servitors that looked like clones of himself were dressed in various ergonomic jumpsuits of varying color varieties, denoting their position. Those with gray jumpsuits were assistants, apprenticing themselves to a colored servitor and acting as labor-aid for their job. Those with a dark navy blue jumpsuit were scholars, organizing the massive and ever-expanding library that they were overlooking.

The laboratory itself was designed similarly to Dante's Circles of Hell; at least in concept. They were currently on the first layer, Limbo. Limbo resided on a massive ring platform surrounding a pit. This pit's walls were covered in shelves, floating skulls with manipulator arms made of bone and steel floating throughout the space; organizing books. Limbo was the manufacturing realm, filled with thousands of gray-jumpsuited servitors, all of them being directed by individuals wearing burnt-orange suits. They were masters of transmutation alchemical formulas. Using a conjuring array, the industrial orange suited servitors would summon forth massive islands of matter from the Dimensional Gap; then they'd harvest and break down the stone, water, or chunks of metal into more manageable pieces. Then those pieces would be filtered for rare magical materials, while the mundane refuse would be carted off to be transmuted into needed supplies; like paper for their books, or adequate building materials.

However, that was just one facet of this layer, as Limbo also had the Fleshworks; industrial vats that harvested the cancerous blood, flesh, skin, and tissue of captured Hell Beasts, Devils, and Angels. This was useful as all books needed to have a Hell Beast leather cover, and any book detailing non-mundane information -meaning anything even relating to magical knowledge- was to be created using devil or angel skin. Inks were also harvested from Hell Beasts originating from the various Underworld Lakes. Lastly, Limbo was the manufacturing zone, so they built and manufactured materials into products. With magic and transmutation, they didn't need massive factory buildings, and instead Aim invented the Transmutation Template; a template design that could be switched out on demand to transmute certain matter into a desired object. No subtractive or additive manufacturing needed, just one zap of magic, and one would obtain whatever was needed or desired; so long as it was accurately designed by a capable transmutative expert.

Aim guided the awed Satans to an air-lift platform that levitated into open space, riding above Lust. This was a massive organized library representing Aim's lust for knowledge and information, organized by Scholars controlling vast hordes of Corrupted Cherubim; the common flying skull servitor. "Welcome to my Laboratory; the Circles of Apocrypha. I'll give you a brief tour." Aim gestured towards the various servitors, "Those are servitor clones, created by harvesting the souls of angels and devils, then being white-washed in demonic or holy energies; before being infected by a specific spell design." Aim glared lightly at Leviathan, who was looking like a rabid creature, desperate to have. "...We might need to accelerate getting you two controlled. Especially for what's on the circle of Gluttony; the tour can be put on hold."

Aim took control of the floating platform, directing it down to the bottom of Lust. There he found the lead Servitor, connected to a brain-computer floating in a clear vat. The massive mutant brain had a thick tendril of nerve-fibers covered in a layer of thick skin connected to the nape of the servitor's neck. It was he who categorized all of the knowledge within Apocrypha.

The servitor bowed, and spoke in the Black Tongue, "Lord Aim. How can I serve you today?"

The Satans understood the language, becoming dazed at the pleasant language that just…scratched their brain in the right ways.

"I demand two copies of the Sinner's Compendium; translated to Enochian."

"As you will, my lordship." The servitor bowed, hundreds of skulls floating down and using their manipulator appendages to gather materials from the storage repositories within the Lust layer. They gathered the materials together, and dozens of printing servitors started to rapidly process two copies of each page; dividing the book in sections, assigning various page numbers to one-another in efficient bursts of language.

Before their eyes two books were written, bound to a spine, then the cover was rapidly stitched with golden thread. Aim took both books and then presented them to the two Satans, both of whom instantly opened them, devouring their contents. The wonders they've witnessed, this massive realm of Apocrypha. It was all the proof they needed; they had to restrain their innate sins. To be better. To be greater than their base impulses.

The book detailed what the sins were, his research and brutal testings of each; from conducting horrific experiments by putting devils in confinement and studying the effects of sexual conduct and rape, to the nebulous sins of Pride and Envy. Then came 'cures' and 'treatments'; noting the specific chemical and alchemical processes of producing medicines that altered brain and body chemistry to simulate and trick one's biology into believing one had sated their sin. To mystic self-hypnosis, or brutal treatments of heavenly punishment to exorcise their sin from their soul. Treatment after treatment laid themselves out, with the Satans reading through detailed experimentation, filled with terminology that only thanks to their respective intelligences and context clues that they managed to vaguely understand.

Beelzebub retreated to a reading area that was located next to the counter of the Great Scholar of Apocrypha, soon rising up from his seat and requesting from the Scholar a dictionary; needing to describe what he needed as such a thing didn't exist in this time period. Beelzebub soon navigated where Leviathan had secluded herself, lounging in a secluded area of the quiet, but active library.

Aim watched them through his servitors, himself enjoying a short period of reading while they studied.

"Leviathan, I believe it would be best if we studied this together." He held up the dictionary, "I procured us a 'dictionary', which will help us understand certain vocabulary."

The woman glanced up at the natural born Devil, a frown on her face. "What method are you thinking of using?" She asked, gesturing for him to sit next to her. She sat on the carpeted floor, a fascinating feature that both of the Devils hadn't ever seen before. Leaning against a bookshelf, the two of them inspected their books.

"I believe I am going to speak to Aim regarding the Ritual of Recreation." He licked his lips, "I…I was born deformed. Mutant." He stroked up to his face, past the thick collar that hid most of it and placed a few fingers along his orbital bone. "I am curious as to what this ritual could do for me."

Leviathan looked a bit alarmed, "Do you not worry about your Clan Trait?"

Beelzebub shook his head, "No, that will be specifically isolated within the ritual formula. From how Aim describes it, it is a rebirth of the body, soul, and mind. I will simply be capable of directing and reformatting my birth to being…idealized. The Ritual notes how…imperfect Lilith's ritualized birthing process is. How purposeful mutations are in hopes of creating more individuals with powerful Clan Traits. I admit, I do not understand everything that is referenced in the Ritual. I do not know what 'Genetics' are, but speaking to Aim should shed light on the matter." Hope shone in the Satan's voice, his mutations something that were obviously something he hated about himself. "And for you?"

Leviathan frowned, "...I guess I could do the same." She muttered. "God created me on the Fifth Day." She sneered, "He threw me into the Ocean, alone. I had no mate, I was confused, I was powerful; and I was deadly. He killed his own child, his own creation; for what? To feed some fucking monkeys?" She growled in wroth hate. The hate and rage died the next moment, and Leviathan sighed, "I just want. I want without end; because I was born with nothing." She sighed, "Except for the power that had my Father kill me."

A silence fell over the two Satans.

From the corner of their eyes they saw Aim walk from the end of an aisle. "Beelzebub, I recommend it." Aim stated as he neared, "The ritual would fix what you want, and you'll be…idealized." Aim sighed, "I myself haven't gone through the ritual due to a core component; you must have a crystalized image of what you desire yourself to be on the other end of the ritual. For myself, I hate my Clan Trait too much, and if I went through with it, it'd likely be stripped from me."

Both of the Satan's raised eyebrows in surprise, "You hate your Clan Trait?" Leviathan asked, "You are Aim of The Hellflame, yes? That is something to be proud of…"

Aim's face soured, "Yes, and it has no creative depth. I just burn shit. Look at what I built! Look around you and see my wonders!" He stretched his arms out, gesturing above to the towering walls of books and information. "What could have I done if I was an Agares with Time Manipulation? Or a Dantalion with his Lies? I've created a dozen languages that bend reality on their backside by merely speaking them." The air warbled as he spat, "What could've I done with an ability that let me Lie to Reality itself?" Flames burned in his mouth as he visibly seethed with Envy. Then he grit his teeth, chuffed with a gust of flame spewing out of his mouth, and collected himself. "All this power has done for me is attract unwanted attention." He sighed, "All I desire is to reside within Apocrypha and build. Experiment, create, design." He chuckled weakly, "If I was born one of the chaff, I'd have anonymity. Imagine it; a peon Devil creating such wonders."

"You'd have been far weaker…" Beelzebub stated, confusion in his tone.

"And I'd have been able to sneak my way to Earth all for it. And there I could feast. Manipulating human mortals like puppets, dancing to my tune and on my stage; falling into a waiting maw for endless years. From Low Class to Medium Class within a few years. High Class within a decade, Ultimate Class in two or three. By then I'd have been entrenched on Earth, and God could turn the world over and he'd not have been able to uproot me." Aim chortled darkly, the two Satans glancing one another.

For their entire life, they believed power was everything. A man could plot, but at the end of the day a dagger or blade had no weight behind it if wielded by the weak. But this man? They looked around, and found wonders, knowledge, and mystery. They knew power, but they did not know this. They never had the chance to.

This man scared them. His intelligence, his cruelty, his ruthlessness, his rationality, his apathy. For the second time since their birth, the two Satans found an entity that scared them beyond their ability and power; but by simply their very presence of being. The Lord of Hellfire stroked his Devil Skin coat, the two Satans idly realizing that they were sitting before a predator that wore the skin of 'their' own race.

Leviathan swallowed, meekly bowing her head. Beelzebub turned his cheek, not meeting Aim's mad eyes.

"Anyway…" He drawled, gazing down at Leviathan, who avoided his gaze. "For you, Leviathan, I'd recommend a Seal. You'd seal your Sin with your Transformative Magic; this would grant you a massive boost of power when transformed into your True State, while tying your Clan Trait to the concept of Envy. Furthermore, you'd be capable of theoretically usurping the domains and claims of the Divine to certain bodies of water. With a lot of training, a few rituals, some body modifications, a couple trinkets and artifacts; and maybe some deicide or possibly the theft of a divine armament…" Aim grinned, "All of Earth's Oceans would be yours to command."

Leviathan snapped up to Aim's gaze, meeting the ambitious gaze of a scientist who saw her as an interesting subject. She shivered, meekly nodding her head, with Aim chuckling. "Grand!" He directed his attention to Beelzebub who had retreated into his robes slightly.

The gaze had the powerful Devil buzz softly, firming up under the eyes of a predator. "I would recommend the Ritual. I would ever so desire to see the result of a more…refined Devil; a true biological masterwork." Aim said, his eyes sparking with the madness of a scientist; Beelzebub nodding along instantly.

Aim grinned, "Wonderful. Now, let's get studying." He chuckled.

Leviathan's solution was a simple spell that she cast on herself. A brief few minutes of tutorship, and between the cast and the next moment, the woman seemed to become…dazed. Then she grew giddy, a significantly more friendly smile and free demeanor spreading through her.

She took some time to adjust to her new sense of self, and when she'd centered herself; she headed over to an impromptu ritual that was being set up within the grand library.

There she watched as from a pool of blood crawled a blackened skeleton, the creature falling into a fetal position and soon streams of blood covered the newly gestating entity. Flesh and tissue grew over its grotesque form, with Aim overseeing the ritual.

Before long Aim and Leviathan beheld an interesting individual rise from the blood pool, entirely naked as she stretched and inspected her form. "Did I fuck up something?" Aim muttered, queerly looking over the ritual circle. He glanced up and inspected the new woman who looked entirely comfortable in her skin, and decided this was who she wanted to be.

Hey, all power to 'em.

Aim went to summon forth some clothes, only for the man to suddenly freeze.

"I can't be that retarded." The man muttered. He snapped, and fire sprang out of his hand. He snapped again, and suddenly a gout of fire spewed from the carpeted floors of the library. He frowned, focused, and then snapped.

A massive gust of flame spewed into the air, and from the fire was a set of perfectly orderly pieces of clothing; conjured and created from his imagination. "Holy shit this has potential." Aim muttered, staring at his hands with shock in his expression. Beelzebub stepped out of the pool of blood, glancing over to Leviathan and spreading her blood covered body out.

"Could you do me a favor…" She asked with a sheepish look.

Leviathan nodded with a light smile, conjuring forth water and washing her fellow Satan down. The woman then banished the dampness from Beelzebub's body. Then Beelzebub stalked over to where Aim had summoned clothing, putting them on.

Leviathan couldn't help but bite her lip as Beelzebub grinned, showing off the snazzy red suit that Aim had summoned with a sudden enlightenment into his Clan Trait. It was a piece of fashion completely foreign to her sensibilities, but damn did it look nice.

She grew a bit jealous, but instead of the burning sensation of needing to have the suit, or something better than it; she instead just grew to admire the dress.

How…freeing.

Glancing over to where Aim was, Leviathan shook her head as the man was snapping like a madman, objects, materials, creatures, and more being summoned from random gouts of fire; the man looking like a child as he discovered a new facet of his abilities.

Beelzebub coughed for Aim's attention, the Devil Lord's head snapping away from the blob-fish he just summoned from a gout of flame. "I'd like to officialize our alliance…" She glanced around the library, biting her lip as she gazed at the endless books, "And I would like to…request access to your library."

Leviathan joined in, "Yes, this alliance would be a grand thing indeed." She stepped by Beelzebub, the other woman giving her a conniving glance, to which she returned.

Aim cocked his head, then a wide smile spread across his face, "Wonderful. I'll be acting as your advisor, I believe. As for the access to the library; I ask that no knowledge is removed from the Circle of Lust. Anyone who you wish to teach will need to learn from here, and you can recommend any one person; but only one. Destroying knowledge, vandalizing the property, or breaking any of these…" He clapped his hands, and a servitor dive bombed by, dropping a thick booklet into his hands, "Rules, will have you expelled from the library. Anyone who you recommend is tied to yourself, so if you don't believe them capable of restraint or following simple rules of privacy and respect; then don't invite them lest you want them to get you banned." He handed Beelzebub the rules. "Otherwise, you may at any time have access to the Circles of Lust and Limbo. Requesting Materials, Troops, Intelligence, and more from myself and my legions is more than on the table." Aim grinned deviously.

Leviathan and Beelzebub grinned back, power feeling wonderful; even if it wasn't the power they were used to. "We were promised a tour." She demurred, batting her eyelashes.

Beelzebub stepped on her foot, jutting her breasts forward, emphasizing her suit, "You mentioned a Level of Gluttony?" She asked.

Aim laughed darkly; "Come, come," He beckoned, "See my works, and despair."