This chapter takes place before the last two. So Adam still hasn't merged yet.
The Greed Ring Capital spread out like an immense industrial maze. Crime and corruption were the norms here, blending seamlessly with the thick, choking smoke from countless factories. The sky above was an unsettling green by day, shifting to a blue hue at night, dotted with ominous red stars. This eerie celestial display cast an otherworldly glow over the grimy streets. Looming over this scene was a gigantic, spinning green coin moon, a mocking symbol of the greed and decay that permeated Avaricia, The City of Putrid Prosperity.
In this urban wasteland, smokestacks spewed toxic fumes, creating a dense haze that hung over the city. The air was thick with pollution, casting a dull, greenish pallor on everything. Garbage piled up in the streets, blocking alleyways and spilling onto the main roads. The acrid smell of burning refuse was ever-present, mingling with the stench of decay. Slick with grime and filth, the streets made every step treacherous.
This city was stuck in an endless cycle of consumption and waste, where the constant production of goods led to mountains of trash. The residents moved through this oppressive environment with resignation, their lives defined by the filth around them. Amid the towering buildings and crumbling infrastructure, signs of neglect and decay were everywhere, reflecting the city's slow decline into ruin.
Amidst this dystopian metropolis, chaos reigned as a mass exodus unfolded in the wake of The Scourge of God's rampage through Hell. Countless Imps from Wrath, Hellhounds from Gluttony, Possessors from Envy, and Succubi from Lust fled their devastated realms. Fear gripped them—fear of the King of Exorcists returning to complete his destruction and fear of the uncertain future that lay ahead in the shattered remnants of Hell's once-secure rings. With their homes in ruins, these displaced demons sought refuge wherever they could, desperate to escape the chaos that now defined their existence.
The streets of Avaricia were filled with despair and hope, as refugees from all over Hell gathered. Each carried tales of loss and survival. For them, the Greed Ring offered a fragile sanctuary in the chaos—a temporary haven where chasing Mammon's riches promised a brief fleeting sense of security amidst crumbling buildings and lawlessness.
In these days, the scum and loan sharks ate good as they enjoyed the taste of the fresh blood.
Amidst the decay, some areas remained wealthy and orderly. Affluent suburban neighborhoods, untouched by the surrounding poverty, starkly contrasted with the blighted industrial landscape. Here, perfectly groomed lawns and pristine houses defied the city's deterioration. This was the domain of Hell's newest elites, those who had profited from Mammon's gambling schemes and the unpredictable fortunes that swept through the rings like storms.
Those who had benefited from The First Man's rampage reveled in their newfound wealth and influence. Their celebrations were extravagant and unrestrained, characterized by demonic revelry and debauchery that resounded through opulent mansions and bustling gambling dens. Glasses clinked, laughter at the miserable bastards echoed, and stories of fortunes gained and rivals killed filled the air long into the night.
In the relentless grasp of Avaricia, the dance of misery and euphoria never ceased.
Amidst Mammon's towering domain, adorned with grotesque clown statues, stood a testament to his insatiable lust for opulence. Inside, the grand hall blazed with brilliance, a haven where Mammon's chosen few indulged in unrestrained greed.
Within the halls, demons clad in opulent attire danced and laughed, their voices a symphony of decadence. Columns wrapped in emerald and gold ribbons framed the scene, while sinister clown masks gazed down, mocking the revelry below. The air was heavy with the aroma of exotic feasts: succulent meats from infernal creatures, wines flowing like rivers of blood, and delicacies reserved for the elite of Hell.
Servants, their bodies adorned with jewels and markings of servitude, moved gracefully among the guests, offering delicacies and fulfilling every whim. The entertainment was as lavish as the decor: demonic acrobats twisted and contorted in displays of otherworldly skill, while musicians played haunting melodies that echoed through the halls. In secluded chambers, pleasures of the flesh were indulged, where courtesans and succubi ensnared the willing with promises of ecstasy.
Mammon's domain was a spectacle of excess and indulgence, a place where wealth and desire intertwined in a feverish dance, oblivious to the chaos and despair that plagued the rest of Hell.
Outside, manicured gardens bathed in the glow of liquid gold offered a tranquil contrast to the chaos within. Demon servants scurried, fulfilling Mammon's every whim with mechanical precision, their eyes blind to the suffering beyond the mansion's gates. This was Hell! Fuck everyone else.
In Mammon's realm, the chasm between wealth and despair yawned wide. While the privileged few reveled in their ill-gotten gains, the rest of Hell cowered in dread of The First Man's looming return and the uncertain future that awaited.
Under Mammon's dominion, the sprawling circus of wealth and poverty was stark. While the main actors reveled in their ill-gotten gains, the extras of Hell quaked in fear of The First Man's return. Their extravagant circus clashed with the desperate pleas of the downtrodden, transforming Mammon's realm into a chaotic carnival of excess and despair, where clowns mocked the suffering outside.
Their lavish celebrations clashed sharply with the desperate cries of the downtrodden, like clowns performing in a chaotic circus. It vividly illustrated the cutthroat nature of the Greed Ring—a realm where Mammon's relentless pursuit of power and wealth reigned supreme.
And as the night wore on, Mammon watched it all with a gleam in his neon-green eyes, knowing that this—the excess, the decadence, the unbridled desire— Mammon wouldn't have it any other fucking way.
Because in the Ring of Greed, there was only one rule:
"Fortune favors the ruthless," Mammon chuckled heartily, his massive frame sprawled across a vast web of his own silk, reclining in his elevated VIP room. Below, the grand party roared with jubilation, and Mammon's grin stretched wider, neon-green teeth glinting in the dim, colorful lights.
His corpulent form exuded a jovial air, dressed in an extravagant ensemble that suited his status as the King of Greed. Mammon lounged in a three-eared jester cap, its tips adorned with small dollar signs that caught the flickering light, while a bold black crown-like pattern adorned the front. His attire included a jester's collar split between dark green and neon hues, its edges trimmed with vibrant yellow, all blending into his clownish, yet imposing presence. Two clown girls whose names he didn't give two shits about snuggling into him like the vain whores they were.
Just like he liked them.
"Wouldn't you agree?" he asked, turning his head toward the only other person worth considering in the room. Nah, the only other person who mattered in the entirety of Hell at the moment. "...Yer Highness?"
Lilith reclined casually next to Mammon, her hourglass figure that put any succubus to shame exuding confidence as she settled comfortably into her seat. With a glass in hand, she turned to look at him, her sparkling plum eyeshadow catching the light as she leaned closer, her dark magenta lipstick accentuating a playful smirk.
Her eyes, with their light violet irises and slit pupils, held a mischievous gleam as she regarded Mammon. Her long blonde hair, streaked with honey-colored highlights, cascaded over her shoulders as she spoke, her voice laced with subtle sarcasm and a hint of amusement.
Mammon held back a growl at the sight of her, his eyes bulging with lust and greed. If he had her, she'd be a real jackpot for his businesses. He imagined her in a clown-themed outfit, bouncing around his casino to attract high rollers.
Maybe he'd even have her serve drinks dressed like that—yeah, that would make a fortune. Or maybe throw her ass in Loo Loo Land. That'll definitely save that train wreck.
Shame that he couldn't have her, but even then, Mammon managed to make use of her.
He was the best bloody businessman in Hell after all.
"Yes, it seems fortune favors the shameless, doesn't it?" Lilith quipped, raising her glass to her lips.
Mammon's grin widened, his demeanor cocksure as he leaned back in his silk-draped throne. " "Always has, always bloody will," he retorted, his gaze assessing as he took in Lilith's relaxed posture and amused expression. " You reckon you're having a laugh, Lilith? Enjoying the entertainment in this whole bloody circus, are ya?"
Lilith's smirk deepened, her gaze locking with Mammon's. "Oh, I always find ways to amuse myself," she replied coyly, her eyes flickering with an unspoken challenge. "Your parties never disappoint in that regard, Mammon."
Mammon chuckled, the sound rich and self-satisfied. "Well, I aim to please," he quipped, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. "And you, my dear Lilith, always add a touch of... spice to the proceedings."
Lilith met his gaze with an arched eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and calculated interest. She took a slow sip of her wine, savoring the moment before responding, her voice laced with subtle sarcasm. "Oh, Mammon, you give yourself too little credit," she began, her tone teasing, "Others might consider you a tacky hack, but you never fail to entertain with your grand displays of excess. It's almost impressive."
This bitch...
Mammon's grin widened. "Impressive enough to catch your attention, I see," he scoffed with mock humility, his voice dripping with amusement. As they kept on yakking, Mammon smoothly changed gears to a more direct question, inspired by Lilith's jab about his wild parties. "Ah, but speaking of my ripper parties," he started off casually, his tone still cheeky yet subtly prodding, "they've bloody missed your presence these past seven years. Where the fcuk have you been hiding all this time, Yer Highness?" His neon green eyes gleamed with curiosity, keeping his banter light-hearted as he waited for her response.
Lilith's smirk deepened as she set her glass down delicately, leaning back in her seat with an air of nonchalance that belied the intensity of her gaze. Her voice, smooth and calculated, carried an edge of amusement as she replied, "Oh, Mammon, darling, you know how it goes. One must disappear from time to time to keep the allure alive. Besides," she added with a tilt of her head, "a little mystery never hurt anyone."
Mammon chuckled, a rich, throaty sound that echoed through the opulent chamber. "Ah, a woman of mystery," he mused, swirling the remnants of his drink in his glass. "But seven years? That's quite fuckin' sabbatical, even for a chick as enchanting as yourself."
"Time flies when one is indulging in new pursuits," Lilith quipped, her gaze flickering briefly towards the flickering prizes beyond the windowpane. "And speaking of pursuits," she continued, smoothly steering the conversation away from herself, "quite the impressive display, even by your standards."
Mammon's grin widened knowingly as he leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink. "Ah, gifts from my new mates," he remarked casually, his Australian accent thickening with amusement. "You know how it is, Lilith. Always expanding me circle, finding those who appreciate what I have to offer."
Lilith's lips quirked in a sardonic smile, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and challenge. "Indeed," she replied, her voice laced with subtle sarcasm. "It seems we both have a knack for... finding kindred spirits in unexpected places."
Mammon chuckled softly, meeting her gaze with a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, seems that way," he agreed, his tone lightly mocking.
That's right, bitch, you're not the only one with a silver tongue in Hell.
Lilith held his gaze for a moment before a smile graced her face once again. She looked down at the bustling party below, her gaze settling on Fizzarolli at the center stage. With a raised eyebrow and a hint of feigned concern, she remarked, "Rumors of Fizzarolli quitting you for Asmodeus and embarrassing you in front of all of Hell must've been greatly exaggerated, seeing him perform so splendidly tonight."
Mammon's eyes narrowed imperceptibly, catching her implication. Even in her absence, she seemed to know every fucking thing that went down in Hell.
Mammon shook his head in mock sadness, his grin wide. "Ah, Lilith, ya know how these things go," he said, his amusement thick. "Fizz and I just had a lil' disagreement, nothin' more. Never meant to belittle the lil' clown." He leaned back, swirling his drink, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Now, with poor, poor Ozzie hangin' between life and death, I can't just let my dear Lil Fizzy on the street, now can I?"
Lilith's smile didn't waver, but her eyes glittered with a mix of amusement and keen interest. "How benevolent of you," she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Taking in your old friend and your brother's imp lover. Truly, your generosity knows no bounds." Mammon laughed, a loud, hearty sound that filled the room.
"Well, someone's gotta look out for the lil' fella. Can't have him thinkin' I hold a grudge, now can we?" He leaned in closer to Lilith, his grin widening. "It's a dangerous world out there for an imp. and Fizzi's got a shitton of ficking creeps and stalkers trying to shank his cute little clown ass."
Lilith's smile remained unchanged, her tone cordial but laced with subtle implications. "Oh, Mammon, such unexpected generosity towards a vulnerable imp," she remarked with a hint of amusement. "It's almost touching, seeing you take such an interest in Fizzi's well-being." Her gaze held steady, her words carrying a subtle undercurrent that questioned Mammon's motives without outright accusation.
Mammon's expression shifted subtly, a feigned hurt crossing his face before he chuckled softly. "Oh, Lilith, always assuming the worst of me," he replied with a mockingly wounded tone. "Can't a demon extend a helping hand without suspicion?" His eyes gleamed with underlying mischief, a glint of something deeper than mere goodwill. "I'm just taking care of my wee brother's dildo while he's recovering. Poor stupid Ozzie has a lot of enemies who try to get to him through his bitch. Dumb cunt doesn't know how to choose his enemies."
Lilith's smile grew slightly colder, her eyes narrowing with a hint of amusement. "Ah, Mammon," she replied smoothly, her tone carrying a touch of mockery. "It's touching to see you play the protective elder sibling, even if Ozzie's... colorful acquaintances tend to attract more trouble than they prevent."
Leaning back, Mammon chuckled again, his tone now tinged with a hint of reverence and deception. His grin widened, eyes gleaming with a mixture of admiration and fabricated nostalgia. "I mean, seriously, what kind of absolutely dumb no-brain-having motherfucker would ever think it's a good idea to go against the The Lord Almighty's Most Magnificent, Impeccably Crafted, and Unquestionably Peerless Creation, Forged with the Divine Essence of His Supreme Brilliance and Unparalleled Artistry?" His voice dripped with feigned admiration, laced with a touch of envy. " "Adam, now there's a bloke. Favored by the Lord and the angels alike. A real golden boy, they say. Special. Unequaled. A Paragon of Divine Favor, Crafted with Celestial Blessings and Endowed with Unrivaled Splendor."
Lilith's expression remained unchanged, a subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth betraying her lack of amusement.
Mammon leaned in closer, as if sharing a secret. His voice dropped slightly. "I remember chatting with him once in Eden," Mammon lied smoothly, his words calculated to provoke. and let me tell you, Lilith, he was something else. The Lord and the angels? They fucking loved him like no other. It was as if he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, destined for greatness from the moment he stepped foot in that Garden. Like don't wrong, the rest of the Garden was good and all. But fuck me, can only remember the OG dickmaster, you get me. Nothing else in there came even close to compare. "
Lilith's smile tightened imperceptibly, taking a slow sip of her wine as Mammon continued with a smirk.
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing with a sniff. "Greatest person I ever met, hands down. You could just tell—he had that spark, that divine favor. Makes you wonder what might've been if things had gone a bit differently, eh?" His expression shifted to one of sly amusement, knowing full well the effect his words would have on Lilith. "Definitely different than us poor cunts here down under."
He paused, expecting a reaction from Lilith—perhaps a retort, a scoff, something to deflect his verbal jabs. Instead, her demeanor shifted unexpectedly. Her eyes held a distant look, and her expression softened with a solemnity that Mammon found fuckin creepy.
It wasn't annoyance or anger; it was something deeper, something he hadn't anticipated. She was just hiding it. Dumb cunt was definitely seething inwards, Mammon told himself.
"You know," Lilith finally spoke, her voice soft yet tinged with a hint of detachment, "he was something else indeed. Favored, cherished, and..." She paused, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions—perhaps a touch of nostalgia, but mostly a guarded neutrality.
"He was the golden boy of Eden," she continued, her voice carrying a weight of resignation. "The apple of their eye, destined for greatness beyond measure. A shame it ended the way it did." Lilith's gaze returned to Mammon, a faint sadness underlying her words.
Mammon leaned back, masking his annoyance with a nonchalant shrug. He hadn't expected such a contemplative response from Lilith. She always had a way of surprising him, even after all these centuries. "No fucking point dwelling on what-ifs and might-have-beens."
Lilith regarded him for a moment, her expression inscrutable, before a small, rueful smile curved her lips. "Indeed," she agreed quietly, her tone more composed now. "One learns to make peace with the choices made, even if they weren't always the right ones."
It wasn't the reaction he wanted, but that was kinda expected. Fucking whore always had to ruin his fun.
However, Mammon was a professional wanker, so he pressed on regardless.
Mammon's brows furrowed, his expression shifting to one of faux contrition. "But hey, Lilith, I never meant to stir up any old insecurities you might've had. Just reminiscing, you know?" His grin turned sly, as if he relished the discomfort his words caused. "But it must've been quite a shock, right? Seeing your ex and... current husband? New ex? Ah Bloody hell, seeing the two blokes you spread your legs for trying to kill each other."
He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink before continuing, his voice dripping with smugness. "I mean, talk about a bloody messy love triangle. Adam and your darling Lucifer, squaring off like that. Quite the dramatic reunion, wouldn't you say?"
The Queen of Hell's fingers tapped gently on the rim of her glass.
Mammon's grin widened at his own audacity, relishing the subtle tension that hung in the air like the aroma of incense. He leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink thoughtfully, waiting for Lilith's response.
Lilith's expression remained unchanged, her demeanor composed but with a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. She regarded Mammon with a calm that bordered on indifference, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass almost absentmindedly.
"You always did have a knack for dredging up ancient history, Mammon," she finally remarked, her voice a measured cadence that betrayed no outward emotion. "But some history is best left in the past, wouldn't you agree?"
Mammon reclined in his opulent chair, his expression a mix of feigned sympathy and underlying glee. "Oh, Yer Highness, how can I not?" he drawled with mock sorrow, "my poor heart breaks at the thought of the state Poor Luci was reduced to." His tone dripped with insincerity, a smirk playing on his lips as he savored the moment.
Lilith arched an eyebrow, her gaze steady as she regarded Mammon through half-lidded eyes. "Do spare me your theatrics, Mammon," she replied coolly, her voice betraying no hint of emotion. "Your concern for Lucifer's predicament is as genuine as your humility."
Mammon brought his hand to wipe away nonexistent tears. "Oh, Yer Highness," he drawled with mock sorrow, "Last night, I cried myself to sleep because of what happened. I saw some mashed potatoes and I just couldn't help but remember him."
Lilith's gaze hardened slightly at his words, her voice tinged with a trace of genuine concern masked by her usual composure. "Lucifer's predicament is no cause for amusement, Mammon," she replied coolly, her tone betraying a flicker of her estranged concern. "Regardless of our estranged relationship, I still wish him no harm." "Which is more than I can say for you. Betting on the death of your siblings while you hid away from Adam?" Her tone dripped with cold disdain.
Mammon's grin widened at Lilith's pointed retort, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hiding goes for both of us, fookin don' it?" he quipped, his Australian accent thick with playful arrogance. "And siblings? You're spending way too much bloody time with Bee if that's what you think we cunts think of each other."
Lilith regarded him with a cool gaze, her expression now tinged with a hint of amusement. "Perhaps you're right," she replied with a raised eyebrow, her voice carrying a note of subtle mockery. "It's easy to lose perspective when one's pursuits are so... ordinary."
Mammon chuckled, undeterred by her jab. "Ah, but you make it sound as if my pursuits lack sophistication," he retorted, leaning forward with a theatrical flair. "I assure you, Yer Highness, there's a finesse to my endeavors that only a few can appreciate."
Lilith's smile remained enigmatic. "Finesse, Mammon? Or is it merely a facade for base desires?" she countered smoothly, her words cutting through his bravado. "You play a shallow game, chasing after trinkets while the world burns. This isn't a game you want to play, Mammon."
"Oh, but I've already played and won," Mammon declared with a laugh, spreading his arms in a grand gesture. He gestured around the opulent 'ell, filled with debauchery and revelry. The room was adorned with lavish decorations, shimmering lights, and a lively orchestra playing in the background. Demons of various ranks mingled, indulging in pleasures of all kinds. Mammon clapped his hands, drawing attention to himself. "Why else would I throw this party? The grandest party 'Ell has seen in centuries? It's simple. This is the festival of my farkin Ascension!"
Lilith raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. "Ascension?"
Mammon nodded emphatically, leaning in with exaggerated confidence. "My ascension as the Biggest Cock in Hell!"
At this, Lilith, the Queen of Hell, couldn't help but burst into genuine laughter, her amusement echoing through the room as she covered her mouth with her hand, unable to contain her mirth.
Ignoring her dismissive laugh, Mammon's grin widened as he continued, his voice laced with mockery. "It's clear ya haven't seen Lucifer's state. He's fucking drooling mess. Bel's not even sure if his ass is going to wake up, and even if he does, without his wings, he's lost the power to keep all of 'Ell in line. 'Ell 'as no king now. Satan, Bee, Leviathan, and Ozzie are all in deep shit. The only threat left was your little brat, and she's probably already fucking dead."
Lilith's voice dropped to a chillingly calm tone. "Ruler of Hell? Your delusions and fantasies are as amusing as ever, Mammon," she said, her gaze unwavering. "But you seem to be forgetting someone.
Mammon's grin widened, undeterred. "And who might that be, Your Majesty?"
Lilith's voice dropped dangerously low, her eyes narrowing. "Me. I'm more than capable of reminding you what the Queen of Hell means if you wish for a demonstration."
"Is that a threat, Lilith?" Mammon's laughter echoed through the opulent chamber, his tone brimming with confidence as he spoke. As he continued, arcs of crackling electricity began to dance around him, a telltale sign of his impending transformation. His form started to shift, growing larger and more menacing with each passing moment.
Lilith observed with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement as Mammon's figure contorted and expanded. Electricity surged around him, illuminating the room in a flickering, eerie light. His limbs elongated into eight long, sharp legs, each ending in menacing claws. Additional pairs of eyes sprouted across his face, their gaze fixated on Lilith with unnerving intensity.
Lilith leaned back in her chair, her smile turning enigmatic. "Consider it a reminder, Mammon. A reminder that while you play your games of ascension, life always has a way of reminding us where true power lies."
"It does, doesn't it," Mammon laughed, not threatened in the slightest. "That's why you're here after all this time, right? Because in all of Hell, The Great Fucking Mammon is the only one you can beg for help, right?"
Lilith's smile widened slightly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Oh, Mammon, you always did have a knack for grandiosity," she replied smoothly. "But don't mistake my presence here as a plea for help. I simply find your antics quite entertaining."
With a final surge of power, Mammon's transformation was complete. He stood before Lilith in his full demon form, now more spider-like than humanoid. His jester cap's ears had sharpened into distinct, pointed appendages, adding to his grotesque and imposing appearance.
Mammon's voice, now deeper and resonant with power, cut through the air. "Cut the shit, bitch," he hissed, each word dripping with malice. "Do you really think the First Fuck isn't coming back for your ass? Oh, he will, and he's going to tear you apart. Play the mysterious and dimming femme fatale shtick as long as you want, Lilith, but I see through it. Your poor hubby is fucking crippled. Your lovely Charlotte is dead. Belphegor is too busy choking on her boy toy's cock — yes, bitch, I know about that little secret. And the Ars Goetia would never go against Heaven, not after your dear fucking ex went Old Testament on poor lil Ozzie."
Mammon's laughter echoed through the hall, his transformed body now a grotesque display of power and greed. His eight legs clicked against the marble floor, each step punctuated by the crackle of surrounding electricity. Despite his imposing form, Lilith remained composed, her demeanor unshaken by his theatrics.
"You still don't get it, do ya, Lilith?" Mammon's voice boomed, his eyes gleaming with a mix of malice and amusement. "You may think you're stronger, but ya always underestimated the power of ambition. Greed drives us all. I can't bloody take it anymore. This ring is just too damn small for me. 'Ell had nothing more it can offer me, so I simply looked somewhere else. I told ya, didn't I? I made some new mates!"
Lilith's eyes narrowed. "What did you do, Mammon?"
Mammon's smirk twisted into something truly ugly, a sneer that seemed to crawl across his face. His teeth bared in a way that was more menacing than cheerful, and his eyes glinted with cruel amusement.
"I fucking humbled myself."
In that moment, ten thousand years of instincts honed through the constant threats and paranoia of living in Hell flared like a raging inferno in Lilith's core. The hair on the back of her neck stood, and a chill ran down her spine.
The distant and long-forgotten fear of death.
It all made sense in that instant. Mammon's bravado, his confidence, and his grotesque transformation—they weren't meant to intimidate her. He knew she was stronger.
No, they were a distraction from the portal that opened behind her.
Through quick wit or instinct, Lilith didn't know which saved her, but she managed to raise her hand to protect her neck and summon whatever shields and barriers she could just in time to intercept the coming blade.
A whisper of steel, too fast to see, sliced through the air. The blade struck her barriers, each one shattering like glass. The impact jarred her arm, and pain exploded in her senses as the force sent her sprawling.
A deafening roar followed. Mammon's mansion crumbled, reduced to rubble as a massive explosion detonated, sending shockwaves through the opulent hall. Dust and debris filled the air, mingling with the screams of demons caught in the blast.
Lilith's ears were ringing, and her vision blurred. She could taste blood in her mouth, and feel the sting of fresh wounds. But as she was blasted into the air, she quickly recovered and landed atop one of the statues. She stood tall, defiant, her eyes burning with fury as her hand tried to heal the bleeding stump of her right arm.
"Damn, and here I thought I'd get your head in one hit," an annoyed voice pierced through the cries of demons and the raging chaos. The massive cloud of dust and flames was swiftly cut in half, revealing the speaker.
Silver wings spread wide, chestnut brown hair framed a face with red eyes, a mixture of two distinct facial features that made it clear to Lilith who he was. He wore a silver coat, and as he moved his left arm to rest the spear on his shoulder, she glimpsed an assortment of weapons hidden beneath the coat. In his right hand, a short blade hung loosely. "Guess I'm a lot rustier than I thought."
Lilith's gaze hardened as she scanned her surroundings, her senses reaching out for any trace of Mammon. There was no sign of him in the aftermath of destruction and chaos around her.
It seemed he had run away the moment he could.
"Ah well, it matters little." The man spoke with a sharp edge as he bent his knees and leveled his blade at Lilith's form. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with malevolence. "Truth be told.."
"I was hoping you'd fight back."
Wonder who that guy with the spear and sword was?