Review Time:

Thristan: No worries on that front lol, what's kind of funny is that I have started to prepare a D&D Sheet for the characters in this series to prep for a Campaign that I may run for this series in the future XD

RandomName41: Wait until they get older XD

Darkscythe Drake: Thankies!

dragonlord2782: Many ideas indeed!

Jebest4781: Thankies!

Harry Potter: Goetian Beginnings

Chapter VI: Extermination Day Eve

Wrath Ring, Corvus Estate

November 8th, 1990

In the peaceful solitude of their secluded sanctuary, nestled amidst the mysteries of the cosmos, Octavius and Octavia devoted their time to their Void Dragons. These majestic beings, with origins rooted in the mystic energies of the universe, had fostered an extraordinary bond with their riders, a bond forged and continually strengthened by the power of telepathy.

Octavius's dragon, a formidable male named Nocturne, bore dark, glossy scales that shimmered the color of Obsidian.

"Easy, Nocturne," Octavius gently implored, their thoughts mingling seamlessly within the realm of their shared telepathy. He held forth a large, mystical gemstone, its spectral glow mirrored in the dragon's sentient, amber eyes. Nocturne responded with a low, rumbling grunt, a soft plume of smoky shadow billowing from his nostrils as he acknowledged the gemstone with a respectful dip of his head. Octavius then proceeded to meticulously inspect Nocturne's expansive wings, his fingers gliding over the glassy scales, alert for any discrepancies. Through their mental link, Octavius continuously emanated waves of tranquility and trust, soothing the mighty dragon.

Across the sanctuary, Octavia engaged in her own tender communion with her Void Dragon, an exquisite creature she had named Nebula. Her scales radiated a luminescent violet hue, their effulgence rivaling the star-strewn expanse they frequently traversed. The bond between Octavia and Nebula was deep and intimate, their minds often resonating with shared sentiments and thoughts that transcended the necessity of spoken language.

With a telepathically transmitted sentiment of warmth and affection, Octavia ran her hand tenderly along Nebula's snout. Nebula reciprocated with a comforting purr, her large, star-lit eyes closing in sheer contentment. Octavia then wielded a special brush imbued with potent enchantments to preen Nebula's radiant scales. Each stroke enhanced the resplendence of the dragon's violet scales, their soft luminescence amplifying the ethereal beauty of the creature.

Upon the completion of her grooming, Octavia guided Nebula telepathically towards a substantial, enchanted basin of water. Nebula quenched her thirst, the magically infused water specially concocted to replenish her energy reserves and allow the dragoness to grow stronger and more beautiful.

Octavius was perched on the edge of a vast crater, Nocturne, his fledgling Void Dragon, lounging by his side. Together, they gazed upon the star-studded expanse that stretched endlessly before them, a cosmic tapestry that held countless mysteries and wonders, magic casted by the siblings to ensure they could see the cosmos from the cast of a curse.

"Nocturne," Octavius projected his thoughts to the young dragon, utilizing their budding telepathic bond, "what do you see when you look at the cosmos?"

A sense of curiosity and wonder washed over Octavius, the dragon's thoughts merging with his own. He could see the universe through Nocturne's eyes, a vibrant ballet of twinkling stars and swirling galaxies, brimming with an untouched beauty that took his breath away.

"I see... lights. Many lights," came Nocturne's mental reply, his understanding still innocent and new. "Each light seems so different, yet all are part of the same... sky."

Octavius smiled at the dragon's simple yet profound insight, reminding him of the pure curiosity that was the essence of learning. He then asked another question, "And us, Nocturne? How do you feel about our bond?"

Nocturne looked at Octavius, his amber eyes reflecting the starlight. "Our bond... it's warm, like the sun," the dragon responded telepathically, his thoughts young yet sincere. "It feels safe and comforting, like a nest."

"And..." Octavius continued, his thoughts reverberating gently through their telepathic bond, "what do you feel when you fly?"

A sense of exhilaration, freedom, and pure joy filled Octavius as the young dragon pondered his question in thought. The feelings were so intense, so raw, that Octavius could almost feel the rush of wind beneath his feathers.

"When I fly... it's like I'm part of the sky," Nocturne responded, his thoughts brimming with excitement. "It feels... free. Limitless. Like I can touch the stars."

Octavius chuckled at the young dragon's enthusiasm. He could almost feel Nocturne's yearning to spread his wings and fly high, to soar among the stars and beyond into the dark of space. With that, Octavius leaned back, wrapping an arm around Nocturne. Together, they gazed at the endless universe stretched out before them, their hearts full of promises and dreams, their bond strengthening with every shared thought and emotion.

Turning his gaze from the vibrant horizon, Octavius surveyed the flurry of activity within the boundaries of Corvus's estate. The sight was a lively one, a burgeoning settlement being erected by Hellhounds of all shapes and sizes. Their presence, once an oddity, was now a constant, a symbol of the estate's evolution. Octavius could see the Hellhounds diligently at work, their strong and youthful bodies moving with purpose. From the compact, muscular frames of the smaller hounds to the towering, menacing figures of the larger ones, every Hellhound had a role in this bustling society they were creating.

"It is quite a sight, isn't it?" Octavius mused to himself, a smile touching his lips. "That all of these Hellhounds would be used for servant work, bodyguarding, prostitution, drug trade, and worse..."

His mind drifted back to the day he had first taken in a Hellhound from Beelzebub's adoption system. His first adoptee had been a fierce, fiery Hellhound he had named Orion. Orion's fiery spirit had touched the young one deeply with how spiteful the hound had been, but when Octavius gave Orion the chance to make a home for himself; that made the Hellhound go from hating Octavius to nearly hugging him to death.

After Orion came Phantom, a shadowy Hellhound with a quiet, reserved demeanor. Then there was Ember, an energetic, red-coated Hellhound with a playful charm that was infectious. There was also Frost, a pale white Hellhound with a serene temperament and keen intellect.

Each of these Hellhounds had a past, a history before they came to Corvus's estate. But here, they had found a new chapter, a place where they were valued, where they had a purpose. Octavius was not the only one who saw the potential in taking Hellhounds out of Beelzebub's adoption system. Many other lowborn Goetians, inspired by Octavius's example, began to adopt Hellhounds in increasing numbers.

These lowborn Goetians were often in a unique position. They were not of the highborn class, but they had their own resources and influence. They had the means to provide for the Hellhounds, and more importantly, they saw the value of them beyond just their physical prowess. And so, the lowborn Goetians began to adopt scores of Hellhounds, each one finding a new home, a new purpose. These Hellhounds were relocated to various parts of Goetian properties, mainly those in the Wrath Ring, in places where they can be able to live a good life before they decide what future to have.

Many assumed these Hellhounds were going to be raised to be further propagators of the Goetic lines... but the truth was far more complicated than servitude. The outcome from this better transition of life for these Hellhounds

In the visions Octavius had, he knew this would make the Hellhounds fiercely devoted to the Ars Goetia. He was almost surprised at how simple it was, especially considering that all it took to bring devotion was just not being an asshole and not to be a controlling-abusive overlord; something that was hard for the others to do as it seemed.

As Octavius was finishing his telepathic thoughts with Nocturne, a rustling sound drew his attention. Emerging from the shadows, the youthful Orion approached. Orion was an imposing figure, even among Hellhounds. He stood taller than most, his strong and muscular physique a testament to his strength and prowess. His fur was a deep, inky black, so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around him, making him appear as a formidable shadow against the landscape.

Orion's eyes were perhaps his most striking feature. They were a blazing, fiery red, glowing with an intense light that seemed to burn from within. These eyes were not just a window to his soul but also a reflection of his nearly eighteen age.

There was an air of seriousness about Orion as he approached, a clear indication that he was here on important business. "Octavius," Orion began, his voice resonating clearly intent. "There are some important fucks at the town hall. Said they were part of your inner circle, should I kick them out?" He asked.

"No, matter of fact, they are my uncle's folks trying to urge me to learn Hell Magic too early. Entertain them and try to get them to teach you and the others instead." Octavius smirked... that was until his Hellphone went off.

Dusk, calling for an 'Extermination Day' prep meeting.

"Great, yeah. Go ahead and entertain them Orion."

Goetian Palace, Imp City

November 9th, 1990

The air was dense with anticipation as the council convened in the Goetian estate's grand hall. Extermination Day was looming, and there was a daunting list of preparations to be made.

Maps were unfurled across the vast table, each one marked with potential danger zones and areas of interest. Octavius, his keen eyes scanning the intricate details, used his newfound mastery of Transfiguration magic to manifest markers, effectively highlighting key areas. His hand moved with a fluid certainty, each movement a testament to his rapid acceleration of knowledge and practical abilities.

Beside him, Octavia, with her uncanny knack for Divination, was engrossed in her own task. Her fingers traced unseen patterns in the air, her eyes half-closed as she delved into the complex tapestry of potential futures. Her work was delicate, like threading a needle through a swiftly changing landscape, identifying the safest paths and the most dangerous pitfalls.

Francesco and Dusk, their minds a whirlwind of strategies and tactics, debated the best defensive measures. They were a study in contrasts, yet they complemented each other perfectly. Francesco, with his understanding of demonic politics, provided valuable insights into potential allies and enemies. Dusk, on the other hand, with his unique perspective, offered strategies that were unorthodox yet effective.

Noctus, Gylfie, and Corvus conferred quietly, their focus on intelligence gathering. They were the eyes and ears of the council, their network of informants essential in staying one step ahead of their enemies.

Fang, fierce and loyal, paced the periphery of the room, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Her presence was a constant reminder of the stakes they were all fighting for.

At the end of the table, Stolas watched over the proceedings with a measured gaze. His wisdom and experience were invaluable, providing a steady hand to guide the council through the tumultuous preparations. As the council meeting wore on, Octavius and Octavia grew increasingly quiet, their attention focused inward. Their minds were not in the room, but rather scattered across multiple timelines, their gifts of Divination painting a troubling picture of the immediate future.

They saw visions of assassination attempts, a flurry of deadly encounters designed to claim the lives of key individuals within Hell. The assailants were ruthless, their actions calculated to create maximum chaos and fear. But there was a common thread that ran through all of these visions: the holy weapons of the Exterminators.

The Exterminators' sacred armaments were powerful, potent tools capable of inflicting devastating damage to demons. In the wrong hands, they could be used to carry out horrific acts of violence. Octavius and Octavia saw these futures, saw the grim aftermath of these planned assassinations, and they knew they had to act.

They saw themselves, too, in these visions. They were part of this tapestry of possible futures, their actions as crucial as the events themselves. In some timelines, they intervened directly, using their powers and resources to thwart the assassins. In others, they worked from the shadows, manipulating events to protect their allies.

But no matter the timeline, no matter the method, one thing was clear: they were going to have to get their hands on those holy weapons. The question was how, and at what cost?

In a sudden wave of clarity, Octavius and Octavia's minds were flooded with the harsh reality of their situation. The safe zones, the territories they had fought so hard to establish and protect, were overpopulated. Demons had flocked to these havens in search of safety, turning them into bustling, overcrowded settlements.

There was a desperate energy in the air, a palpable fear that hung over these places like a dark cloud. And it wasn't just the fear of the unknown, but of a known, imminent threat - the Exterminators.

These zones, initially established as places of sanctuary, had inadvertently become perfect targets for the Exterminators. The very concentration of demons and sinners in one place was a beacon, a call to the Exterminators who sought to rid Hell of its inhabitants.

The siblings shared a look, their hearts heavy with the weight of their realization. They had been so focused on creating safe spaces that they hadn't considered the potential risks of gathering so many vulnerable beings in one place. It was a strategic error, and one that could have catastrophic consequences.

Yet, there was no time for regret. They had to act, and swiftly. Their minds raced with strategies, plans to fortify these areas, to prepare for the onslaught they knew was coming. Every decision they made, every action they took, was with a singular goal in mind - to protect their people.

"Call for the Mystics," Octavius commanded, his voice reverberating through the council chamber.

His order was met with a flurry of movement as his aides hastened to carry out his command. The Mystics, an elite group of Goetian magicians, were known for their potent magic and their intricate knowledge of enchantments and wards. If anyone could bolster their defenses and conceal the safe zones, it was them.

When the Mystics arrived, Octavius wasted no time in outlining his plan. "We need bunkers," he said firmly, meeting each Mystic's gaze with a determined one of his own. "Well-fortified, well-hidden bunkers in every safe zone."

The Mystics nodded in understanding, and Octavius continued, "And we need more than physical defenses. We need wards, barriers that can hide our locations from the Exterminators. Can you do it?"

There was a moment of silence as the Mystics exchanged glances. Then, their leader, a wizened demon with eyes that gleamed with ancient wisdom, stepped forward. "It will be challenging, Prince Octavius," he admitted. "But it is not impossible. We will do our best."

Octavius nodded, satisfied. He knew he was asking a lot, but he had faith in the Mystics. "Begin immediately," he ordered, and they bowed in response, disappearing to carry out his instructions. As the Mystics left to begin their arduous task, Octavius turned to his personal aide and uttered a single command:

"Bring Alexander."

Within moments, the chamber's heavy doors swung open, and a figure clad in grand armor stepped into the room. The armor was imposing, not unlike the ceremonial garb of an Imperial Guard, with intricate designs etched into the steel. But this was no human guard. This was Alexander, a Legionary Centurion of Goetian heritage. His owl-like features were sharp and wise, his eyes reflecting a battlefield-hardened veteran's resolve.

"Prince Octavius," Alexander greeted, his voice resonating in the chamber as he approached the council table. His beak-like mouth formed a stern line, and his brow was furrowed in anticipation.

"Alexander," Octavius replied, acknowledging the Centurion with a respectful nod. "The Mystics have a crucial task ahead, one that could ensure the survival of many of our people. I want you and your legion to protect them."

Alexander straightened, his talons clicking against the marble floor. "Understood, my Prince," he responded, his tone unflinching. "The Mystics will be safe under our watch."

Octavius nodded, satisfied with the Centurion's response. "See to it," he said, dismissing Alexander with a wave of his hand.

Looking out onto his assembled Legions, Octavius couldn't help but draw a comparison to the Imperial Guard he always played games with. His own forces, with their intricate, imposing armor, bore an uncanny resemblance to the stalwart defenders of humanity depicted in the beloved game. Their stature, their discipline, their air of steely determination... it was as if a page from the game had been torn out and brought to life before him.

It wasn't just their armor that mirrored the Imperial Guard. The weaponry they wielded was eerily similar as well. They carried lasguns, the staple armament of the Guard, with their sleek designs and distinct, glowing power cells of Hell's very own craft. The way his Legionaries held them, with a practiced familiarity and ease, it was clear they were well trained and more than capable of wielding these formidable weapons.

Octavius smiled faintly, his mind wandering to the countless hours he'd spent immersed in the Warhammer 40K lore. He'd always admired the tenacity and bravery of the Imperial Guard, their willingness to face down the most monstrous of foes in defense of their people. Now, he found himself at the helm of fighting The Exterminators, a thought he did not want to cross.

Pride Ring, Pentagram City

December 28th, 1990

The steps leading to the Mange estate were grand, ornately carved and flanked by a pair of imposing stone gargoyles. The estate itself loomed before them, an imposing structure of dark, brooding stone and towering spires that pierced the smoky sky of the Pride Ring.

Octavius and Octavia, the newly anointed Princes of the House Goetia, approached the entrance side by side, their dragons trailing close behind. Their conversation, however, was far removed from their newfound status and the grandeur of their surroundings.

"The Extermination," Octavius began, his voice quiet, almost cautious. "It's almost upon us."

Octavia nodded, her gaze fixed on the estate's doors. "I've seen it too, brother. And I fear for our friends and family."

In the underworld of Hell, the Extermination was a force of sheer, cataclysmic destruction. It was a time when Heaven's forces descended upon Hell, indiscriminately destroying demons in their attempt to control the population. The Extermination was a brutal, unyielding force that didn't differentiate between highborn and lowborn, between friend and foe.

Octavius's hand clenched into a fist. "Charlie Mange is one of the targets. If my visions are right, she might be in danger."

Octavia, sharing her brother's concern, added, "We have to warn her, Octavius. We have to make sure she's prepared."

As they ascended the last of the steps, Octavius turned to his sister, determination set in his features. "We will, Octavia. We'll do whatever it takes to protect our allies. We're formal Princes now, and that's our responsibility."

As Octavius and Octavia ascended the remaining steps, the grand doors of the Mange estate loomed ahead of them. They paused for a moment, exchanging a glance of resolute determination, before Octavius raised his hand and knocked on the heavy door.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing the cheerful face of Charlie Mange. She greeted them with a bright smile that seemed to illuminate the dark interior of the estate.

"Octavius! Octavia!" she exclaimed, stepping back to allow them entry. "What a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect a visit from the newly minted Princes of the House Goetia today."

The siblings exchanged amused glances at Charlie's exuberance before stepping into the estate. The warmth of her greeting seemed to alleviate some of the tension that had been building up in their hearts. For a moment, they allowed themselves to bask in Charlie's infectious cheerfulness, knowing full well the gravity of the information they were about to share.

Charlie led them through the tastefully decorated halls of the Mange estate to a plush seating area, where she gestured for them to take a seat on a luxurious couch. The siblings exchanged glances before taking their places, the weight of their information dampening the otherwise jovial atmosphere.

"Charlie," Octavius began, choosing his words carefully, "we need to discuss something of utmost importance. It pertains to your safety."

Charlie, still smiling, leaned forward with a look of curiosity on her face. "Oh? What seems to be the matter?"

Octavia, more direct than her brother, jumped in. "We've been having visions," she said, her voice steady. "Visions of an impending attack here in the Pride Ring. And they're not just ordinary attacks."

Octavius nodded in agreement, adding, "The perpetrators are using holy weapons. It appears to be a coordinated series of assassinations, and we fear that you might be a target."

Charlie's smile faded as the gravity of their words sunk in. She stared at them, her mind racing to process this grim revelation. "Holy weapons?" she repeated. "Assassinations? Isn't this a regular occurrence?"

"We don't have the complete picture yet," Octavius admitted. "But we wanted to warn you, Charlie. We are aware of the constant amount of assassinations you face everyday, but we are aware of a successful one. A great deal of the danger is sourced from Extermination Day, someone is going to take a great deal of Angelic Weapons, using our safe zones as bait."

Charlie sat in silence, processing the information. Her cheerful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a serious, contemplative expression. She took a deep breath, her gaze flitting between the siblings as she took in their grave expressions.

"I see," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the startling revelation. "This... this is a lot to take in."

She rose from the plush couch, pacing the room as she absorbed their words. Her brow furrowed in deep thought, her fingers tapping absently against her chin. "Stealing Angelic weapons on Extermination Day... That's a bold and dangerous move, even for the desperate."

She halted her pacing, turning to face the Goetia siblings. "I appreciate your warning, Octavius, Octavia. I can't say I'm not concerned, but if there's one thing I've learned in my time here, you don't take shit from a Demon." Returning to her seat, she glanced at the siblings, her eyes softer now. "I can't thank you enough for this warning, Octavius, Octavia. Your loyalty and concern speak volumes of your character. As Princes of House Goetia, your duty to protect is commendable."

Octavius and Octavia nodded solemnly at Charlie's words, a small sense of relief washing over them. They had delivered their message, and Charlie had taken it seriously. That was all they could have hoped for.

With one last glance at Charlie, they both rose from their seats. They moved to the center of the room, and in unison, they bowed deeply. It was a show of respect and solidarity, a silent promise of their continued support and loyalty.

"Thank you, Charlie," Octavius said, his voice filled with sincerity.

"And thank you for listening to us," Octavia implied with a nod of encouragement.

As Octavius and Octavia disappeared through the grand doors of the Mange estate, Charlie found herself chuckling. The seriousness of their shared warning had given way to a moment of levity, and she found herself appreciating the comforting familiarity of their twin-like banter.

"Adorable," she muttered to herself, shaking her head in amusement. Their coordinated movements, their synchronized speech, even their shared determination — it was as if she was witnessing two sides of the same coin. Despite their imposing titles as Princes of House Goetia, they still held onto the charming quirks of their siblinghood, a testament to their enduring bond.

"Yes," she said aloud to the empty room, another soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Absolutely adorable."

The grand staircase of the Mange estate echoed with the soft thud of their steps as Octavius and Octavia descended. A silence had fallen between them, heavy with the gravity of their recent conversation with Charlie. But then, Octavius turned to his sister with a soft smile, a twinkle of nostalgia lighting up his eyes.

"Do you remember, Octavia?" he began, his voice soft but clear in the quiet hallway. "That nightmare you had when you were seven? The one where you thought Father had disappeared from the palace?"

A moment of surprise crossed Octavia's face, before she chuckled in reminiscence. "Oh, that nightmare," she replied, shaking her head as if to dispel the old fear. "It feels like such a long time ago. Even if it was three years ago."

The memory was indeed distant, but still crystal clear. She had been a small child then, and the vastness of the palace had suddenly seemed terrifyingly large when she'd awoken from a dream where their father had disappeared. Fearful and alone, she had run through the corridors until she had reached Octavius's room.

"I leaped right on you, didn't I?" she added, her chuckles subsiding as she remembered the comfort her brother had provided that night. "I hopped onto your bed and wouldn't stop crying until I fell asleep."

Octavius nodded, his smile softening at the memory. "Yes, you did," he confirmed gently. "You were so scared, Octavia. But that was the night I truly realized how much you relied on me. It made me want to always protect you, no matter what. "

"That night," Octavius continued, his gaze distant, "I remember feeling... terrified. Not for myself, but for you. I had never seen you that scared before."

Octavia's eyes softened, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze her brother's arm. "But you were there for me," she reminded him. "You always were. Even when I had the silliest of nightmares, you'd let me climb into your bed and stay there until morning."

Octavius chuckled at that, his gaze returning to his sister. "Well, I couldn't very well let my older sister face her nightmares alone, could I?"

Octavia smiled, a soft, genuine smile. "No, I suppose not," she agreed, her tone teasing. "And in return, you got an older sister who'd kick any monster that dared to creep into your room."

Octavius laughed then, a warm, heartfelt sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. "That's true. Those poor imaginary monsters didn't stand a chance against you."

"We're coming a long way since then, haven't we?" Octavius finally spoke, breaking the silence.

"We have and will be," Octavia agreed, looking at her brother with a smile. "And I know that no matter what happens next, we'll face it together, just like we always have and will be."

Octavius nodded, returning her smile with one of his own. "Just like we always have and will be." He chuckled, earning a light punch from Octavia.

Goetian Palace, Imp City

December 31st, 1990

As the relentless tick of the clock drew them ever closer to the inevitable dawn of Extermination Day, a profound sense of urgency permeated every corner of House Goetia. Octavius and Octavia, the newly appointed Princes of the House, were the driving forces behind this preparation. Their relentless pursuit of readiness was infectious, invigorating every member of their noble house with a shared sense of purpose and determination.

Through the grand and ornate halls of the Goetia Palace, echoes of hurried footsteps reverberated, a constant reminder of the urgency of their situation. Conversations were hushed, but the air was heavy with the gravity of their discussions, the need for preparedness seeping into every word, every gesture.

Outside in the sprawling courtyard, warriors of the House Goetia clashed in fierce mock battles, their weapons singing in the cold air as they honed their deadly skills. The courtyard was transformed into a battlefield of relentless training, where every warrior, regardless of their status, was a crucial piece of the grand puzzle.

Within the vast library of the palace, sorcerers and warlocks were equally absorbed in their own form of preparation. Ancient texts and forgotten scrolls were scoured for any piece of information that could give them an edge. Enigmatic spells, old warding rituals, and cryptic prophecies were painstakingly analyzed under the flickering candlelight. The hushed whispers of the sorcerers melded with the rustle of aged parchment, creating a symphony of knowledge and anticipation.

Octavius and Octavia were ever-present, their hands and minds involved in every aspect of the preparations. From tactical decisions to logistical considerations, they were the lynchpins of the operation, their insights and leadership guiding the situation through the murky waters of uncertainty. They convened regular councils with their trusted advisors, debating strategies and contingencies, leaving no room for complacency.

Furthermore, they bolstered their information network, ensuring that every whisper, every rumor that wound its way through the dark corners of hell, did not escape their notice. In this game of shadows, information was a weapon as potent as any sword or spell. As the preparations for Extermination Day proceeded in earnest, Octavius and Octavia found themselves in a rare moment of respite. They took advantage of the brief lull to evaluate their progress and discuss the specific arrangements for the shelters and the safe zones.

Octavius unfolded a large, detailed map of the Pride Ring and Wrath Ring and spread it across the table. The maps were marked with various symbols and notations, each representing different elements of their strategic plan.

"We've managed to secure several shelters around this area," Octavius said, his fingers tracing along a cluster of marked locations. "These are the strongest structures that we have, capable of withstanding a direct hit from any angelic weapon."

Octavia nodded, her gaze focused on the map. "Good. And what about the safe zones for the Hellhounds and Sinners?"

"We've established those towards the outer periphery," Octavius replied, pointing towards the marked zones on the map. "We've ensured they have adequate protection and resources. We've also coordinated with the Hellhounds willing to help, patrol these areas and provide additional security."

Octavia seemed to mull over this for a moment. "It's a good plan, but we need to make sure everyone knows their role. Communication is key here, Octavius. We can't afford any confusion or chaos during the Extermination Day."

Octavius agreed, "You're right, Octavia. We need to hold another meeting soon, ensure that everyone is on the same page."

Their discussion was interrupted by the entrance of their father, Stolas, who had a look of concern on his face.

"Oct, Via," he began, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "We don't have the luxury of time for another meeting. We're on the brink of Extermination Day. It would be best to send word by text message to everyone involved. Quick, precise instructions will have to suffice."

Stella, their mother, nodded in agreement. "Your father is right," she said, addressing her children. "You both have done so much already. It's time to focus on our own safety. We should prepare to hide at home."

Octavius, however, seemed undeterred. He straightened up, determination set in his eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Mother," he said respectfully. "But I can't simply hide while others are in danger. The Hellhounds and the others under my protection deserve a chance to survive too. I'm going to make sure they have that chance." He looked back down at the map, his fingers tracing over the marked safe zones once more.

Octavius and Octavia were deep in thought when a sudden wave of anxiety washed over them. It was a sensation they had become all too familiar with - a vision was coming. Their surroundings seemed to blur and fade as the vision took hold, pulling them into a horrifying scene of destruction and chaos:

Before their eyes, they saw Prince Vitis standing tall, his face contorted into a cruel smile. He was surrounded by thousands of his Hellhounds and Imps, a legion of forces that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"Purge this sad excuse of a Goetian hold!" Vitis ordered, his voice booming across the fields. "Let none live! Show no mercy!"

The Prince's fighters roared in response, charging towards the settlements with a bloodlust that sent chills down the siblings' spines. Buildings were set ablaze, and innocent Hellhounds and Goetians were dragged out into the open, their cries of terror echoing in the night as some were shot and others cut into many pieces. Blue, red, and black blood oozed from the buildings they burned and the houses they raided, killing everyone they could get their hands on.

"Maximize their suffering!" Vitis commanded, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Let Octavius know the true extent of our power before his 'peoples' lives are ended!"

The vision shifted, showing scenes of torture and violence, each more brutal and horrifying than the last. Hellhounds and Goetians were beaten, burned, and slaughtered, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. There were actions made that Octavius and Octavia shake with horror. The air was thick with the scent of fear and death, a grim testament to the horrors unfolding.

As the vision faded, Octavius and Octavia were left reeling, their hearts pounding in their chests. The future they had just witnessed was terrifying and cruel, a stark contrast to the peaceful settlements they were trying to protect. The knowledge of what was to come filled them with dread, but also a renewed determination. They would not let this future come to pass.

With a grim determination set in his eyes, Octavius reached for a pair of wireless headphones, summoning his magic to establish a connection with every one of his Legionaries. He adjusted the headphones and cleared his throat, his voice taking on a tone of command.

"Legionaries, this is Octavius," he declared, his voice resounding in the ears of his forces. "A storm is coming, led by Prince Vitis. His intentions are clear. He aims to purge our settlements, to inflict maximum suffering on our people. But we will not stand idly by. We will not let fear rule us. We will stand our ground, and we will fight."

He paused for a moment, his gaze hardening. "I command you to deploy for combat immediately. Protect our people, protect our settlements. This is not a battle for territory, but a battle for our survival, for our right to exist. Make ready, and may the fires of our resistance burn bright against the coming darkness."

Meanwhile, Octavia nodded at her brother, her face set in a determined expression. "I'll start getting everyone into the shelters, Octavius," she said, her voice steady. "You handle Vitis. I'll make sure the shelters are safe and secure."

Stolas, witnessing the actions of his children from a distance, sighed deeply. His eyes, wise and discerning, narrowed as he considered the unfolding situation. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a shadowy projection of the city they were defending, watching as his children prepared their forces.

"Octavius... Octavia..." he spoke, his voice laced with concern. "You're walking right into their trap."

Octavius, having heard his father's words through the magical connection they shared, responded without missing a beat. As he rallied his forces, his voice echoed in the minds of his parents, resolute and unyielding.

"Father," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "I understand your concerns. But consider this: in their attempt to draw us out, King Vine and Prince Vitis have themselves stepped into the open. And on the eve of The Extermination, no less."

His words hung in the air, a challenge and a declaration rolled into one. He turned his gaze towards the horde of Hellhounds and Imps rushing towards them, his grip tightening on the hilt of his weapon.

"We are not the only ones vulnerable here. They too have gambled their safety. And we'll make sure they regret it."

Pride Ring, Imp City

December 31st, 1990

Octavius stood tall on the rooftop of a towering building in Imp City, his silhouette outlined against the hellish skyline. His eyes, glowing with a fierce determination, scanned the city below. His magical aura, a beacon of indomitable will, emanated from him, reaching out to every one of his Legionaries, Hellhound Packs, and lowborn Goetians.

Raising his hand, he closed his fingers into a fist, a silent signal that reverberated through the magical connection he shared with his forces. In response, the Legionaries moved into formation, their armor gleaming under the harsh light. The Hellhound Packs growled, their bodies coiling in anticipation of the fight. The Goetians, their faces etched with determination, readied their own weapons, preparing for the onslaught.

As the city rumbled with the impending clash, Octavius stood resolute atop the city's tallest building, a tactical overview spread before him. His gaze was sharp, tactical mind analyzing every nuance of the unfolding scenario. He summoned his magic, reaching out to his forces spread across the city.

"First Division," Octavius's voice resonated through the magical connection, "Move towards the eastern sector. Reinforce our lines there. Do not engage directly. We need to hold them at bay."

His command was met with a chorus of affirmations. The First Division, comprised of his most seasoned Legionaries, quickly moved to execute his orders. They moved as one, their movements a dance of coordinated strategy. Their presence bolstered the defensive line, providing the much-needed support.

"Second and Third Divisions," Octavius continued, his gaze shifting towards the city's western front. "Flank the enemy from the sides. Keep them busy. Fourth and Fifth, you're with me. We'll hit them where it hurts the most."

Again, his orders were followed to the letter. The Second and Third Divisions broke off, moving swiftly to catch the enemy off guard. Meanwhile, the Fourth and Fifth Divisions stood ready, awaiting Octavius's lead.

He then turned his attention to his Hellhound Packs and lowborn Goetians. "Pack Leaders, Goetians, we will need your strength in the frontlines. You will be our first line of defense. Protect the city and its people."

With his orders given, Octavius watched as his forces moved, their movements reflecting his strategic planning. It was a living chess game, each piece moving in concert with his commands. He was the conductor, his forces the orchestra, and together they would play a symphony of defiance.

From his vantage point, Octavius's eyes narrowed as he saw the opposing force approach. They swarmed the horizon like a storm, their numbers blotting out the landscape beyond. Hellhounds and Imps made up the bulk of their ranks, their numbers too numerous to count. They moved as a chaotic mass, their collective presence an ominous sight.

But it wasn't just the Hellhounds and Imps that concerned Octavius. Among the enemy's forces, he could spot several Goetic demons as well. Their towering forms stood out among the sea of smaller creatures, their potent magical energy visible even from his distance. These Goetic demons were not to be underestimated, their power rivaling that of the highborns.

A deep sense of foreboding washed over Octavius as he took in the sight. The enemy's numbers were indeed vast and powerful. Yet, he remained resolute. He had his strategy, he had his forces, and most importantly, he had something worth fighting for.

"Legion, Hellhounds, Goetians, brace yourselves," Octavius's voice rang out, echoing across the city through his magical connection. "Prince Vitis approaches."

As the enemy forces closed in, Octavius took a moment to survey the field of battle. His eyes took in every detail, every possible advantage. He didn't have the luxury of brute force or overwhelming numbers. Instead, he would have to rely on cunning, strategy, and the strengths of his loyal followers.

"Legionaries in Division One, form up into defensive clusters," Octavius commanded, his voice calm and steady. The seasoned warriors quickly moved to comply, forming tight-knit groups that provided both offensive and defensive capabilities. Each cluster was a self-sustaining unit, capable of supporting each other while dealing significant damage to the enemy.

"Hellhound packs, position yourselves on the flanks," he continued. The Hellhounds, versatile and quick, were perfect for this role. They could swiftly respond to any changes on the battlefield, reinforcing the line where needed or launching quick, devastating attacks on the enemy's flank.

"Goetians, prepare your magic." The Goetian demons, with their powerful magic, were the linchpin of his strategy. Positioned safely behind the front lines, they could unleash devastating spells on the enemy while staying protected by their allies.

"And remember," Octavius added, "we do not need to defeat them outright. We need to hold them off, disrupt their formation, and buy time for the rest of the city to evacuate."

With his orders given, Octavius watched as his forces moved into position. The enemy was close now, their monstrous forms looming on the horizon. But Octavius and his followers were ready.

Vitis, standing atop a distant ridge, took in the sight of the opposing forces. The young prince was cloaked in the fearsome aura of his bloodline, his eyes glinting with a predatory light. He looked over Octavius's defensive formations, his lips curling into a sneer. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

"Forward!" Vitis roared, his voice echoing through the ranks of his own assembled Hellhounds, Imps, and Goetian demons. His command was met with a thunderous roar of affirmation, a harsh cacophony that echoed through the air.

With the single, powerful command, the charge began. The ground trembled under the weight of thousands of Hellhounds, Imps, and a few Goetians rushing forward.

As the thunderous charge of Vitis's forces erupted onto the cities perimeter, Octavius stood firm, his eyes glinting with steely resolve. The Prince's fervent aggression was expected, every move foreseen, every strategy contemplated and countered in his mind.

"First Division, engage!" Octavius thundered into his wireless headset. His voice, an unwavering echo amidst the cacophony of warfare, prompted his front line troops into action. The Legionaries erupted the charging hostile's positions with artillery and a field full of lasgun fire. Bright lasters full of demonic energy cut right into the incoming formation, ripping many of the Hellhounds and Imps to pieces. The explosive waves of artillery guns blew craters into the force, allowing time for a strategic maneuver for Octavius's tactical analysis.

"Second Division, hold position!" he commanded, his orders slicing through the air with absolute authority. The second division, composed of seasoned warriors and spellcasters, held their ground, their fingers itching on triggers and grips, awaiting his signal.

Vitis's forces, driven by blind fury, crashed into Octavius's first division. They expected to crush through, to shatter their defenses with the sheer ferocity of their charge. But Octavius's legionaries held fast, their guns blazing, their blades flashing, and their spells searing the air, repelling the onslaught.

"Second Division, flank and counter!" Octavius ordered, his voice ringing clear over the clamor of the clash. The waiting second division sprang into action, their guns spewing fire and bullets as they swept around the embattled enemies, striking from the sides and rear. Their sudden assault sowed chaos within Vitis's ranks, their coordinated attack exploiting the enemy's disorientation.

"Third Division, brace for the second wave!" His voice, unyielding and unflappable, echoed through the streets. Behind the frenzied front lines, his third division of forces steeled themselves, their guns ready and their magic crackling, ready to confront any enemies that dared breach the first and second divisions.

Octavius's response to Vitis's reckless assault was a symphony of strategic warfare. His commands, delivered with flawless precision, directed the flow of battle. His troops, moving as a single entity, followed his orders with disciplined precision. The outer city was a tempest of violence and chaos, but amidst the whirling maelstrom, Octavius was an anchor of calm and control. His strategic acumen, reflected in every order, every maneuver, was the guiding force behind his troops' relentless resistance, turning the tide against Vitis's forces.

Prince Vitis, watching the battle from his command post, couldn't suppress a sneer as he watched his forces meet unexpected resistance. The first wave of his assault had failed to break through Octavius's defenses. His eyes narrowed as he observed the field of battle, taking in the strategic maneuvers that his adversary had employed.

"So, Octavius thinks he's a tactician now?" Vitis mocked, his voice dripping with disdain. Yet, beneath the bravado, a spark of irritation flickered. He hadn't expected this level of resistance.

"No matter," he growled, his tone steely. "Second wave, advance! Show them no mercy!"

As he issued his command, a fresh wave of Hellhounds, Imps, and Goetians surged forward, their howls and cries echoing ominously throughout the battle. Their charge was fierce and relentless, a tidal wave of fury meant to wash over Octavius's forces and break their morale.

Vitis watched, his eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation. He fully expected his second wave to shatter Octavius's lines. But as the dust settled, he saw that the ranks of his enemy stood firm. The gleam in his eyes faltered, replaced by a flash of disbelief. His teeth clenched, and a growl escaped his lips.

He had underestimated Octavius. His forces had been met with a formidable defense, his strategies countered with shrewd precision. A new sense of wariness crept into Vitis's mind, a grudging acknowledgement of Octavius's tactical acumen.

Prince Vitis, grimacing at the unexpected resistance, decided to escalate the situation. He had hoped to save his trump card for later, but he was growing tired of Octavius's defiance.

"Release the Infernal Dragons!" he commanded, his voice echoing through the ranks of his army. The order was met with a chorus of howls and cheers from his forces, the anticipation of an assured victory filling the air.

From the rear of Vitis's forces, several gigantic, monstrous creatures were released. Infernal Dragons, beasts of legend, their scales glistening in the infernal light of Hell, their eyes glowing with a predatory hunger. They roared as they took to the sky, their massive wings flapping as they soared towards Octavius's forces.

The battle grew quiet as all eyes turned towards the sky, the sight of the Infernal Dragons causing hearts to skip beats, breaths to be held. Then, as one, the dragons descended, their roars echoing, their fiery breath lighting up the streets.

The first wave of dragonfire swept through Octavius's front lines, incinerating anything it touched. The heat was so intense it turned sand into glass, and the screams of those caught in the blast were drowned out by the deafening roar of the dragons.

Vitis watched, satisfaction etching itself onto his face as his dragons wreaked havoc on Octavius's forces. His forces surged forward, using the chaos caused by the dragons to press their attack.

The field of battle was consumed by carnage and mayhem, the dragons adding a new level of brutality to the confrontation. The ground shook, and the sky was filled with the deafening roars of the dragons, the screech of their scales against each other, and the sound of their fiery breath incinerating everything in its path.

Vitis's smirk returned, larger and more triumphant than before. He had unleashed hell on Octavius's forces, and he was confident that this time, they would break.

The appearance of the Infernal Dragons in the city certainly changed the dynamics of the fight, but Octavius had been prepared for this. He had anticipated that Vitis might resort to using these mythical beasts, and he had a countermeasure ready.

"Nocturne!" Octavius commanded, his voice resonating with magical energy. From the darkness of the shadows around him, a swirling vortex of darkness appeared, from which emerged his dragon.

With a flick of his wrist, Octavius and Nocturn underwent a transformation, his youthful appearance shifting into that of a mature Goetian and Nocturne's the mature version of its normal self. His body grew larger, more muscular, his features becoming more defined and his aura even more powerful. This was his battle form, a matured version of himself that could withstand the demands of intense combat. Now, he was ready to ride Nocturne into the battle.

Mounting the Void Dragon, Octavius took to the skies, his figure a stark contrast against the backdrop of the burning battle below. His command echoed across the field, reaching every corner, every soldier under his leadership.

"Formations! Shield your divisions from the dragonfire! Counter attack on my mark!" Octavius instructed, his gaze fixed on the Infernal Dragons wreaking havoc on his forces.

With Octavius at the helm, his forces quickly adapted to the changing situation. They formed protective barriers with their magic and weaponry, shielding themselves from the dragonfire while the divisions with long-range capabilities prepared to counterattack. The battle was momentarily engulfed in a tense silence, all waiting for Octavius's signal.

"Now!" Octavius's voice thundered, and in an instant, the battle erupted once more. This time, it was Octavius's forces launching their counterattack, their weapons and magic aimed at the Infernal Dragons in the sky.

Octavius gripped the reins of Nocturne tightly as they ascended higher, their massive silhouette casting a vast shadow over the chaotic battlefield. The Void Dragon roared, a powerful, primal sound that echoed across the area, striking fear into the hearts of their enemies and igniting a surge of confidence within their allies.

With a swift downward swoop, Nocturne plunged into the chaos, his enormous wings beating powerfully as they cut through the air. Octavius, riding atop his dragon, commanded a wave of dark energy to radiate from Nocturne, forming a protective barrier around them as they charged into the cluster of Infernal Dragons.

As Nocturne clashed with the first of the Infernal Dragons, Octavius drew upon his magical energy, creating a vortex of dark magic around his hand. With a swift and precise motion, he hurled the magical vortex at the Infernal Dragon, watching as it made contact and sent the creature spiraling down towards the ground.

From their vantage point, Octavius could see the ripple effect of their attack. His forces, invigorated by his display of power, launched their counterattack with newfound vigor. The air was filled with a maelstrom of magical energy, bolts of magic, and volleys of arrows as they charged at the enemy.

On the ground, the Legionnaires, Hellhound Packs, and Goetian demons rallied, using the opportunity to regain their footing and push back against Vitis's forces. The tide was turning, and the battlefield was slowly being reclaimed.

Riding atop Nocturne, Octavius reveled in the symphony of battle. The clash of magic, the roar of dragons, the cries of the brave – it was a melody of chaos, a harmony of power and resolve that resonated deep within him. He felt the rhythm of the battlefield and he moved with it, making decisions with an uncanny precision that spoke of a deep understanding of the complex dynamics at play.

"Fourth Division, flank to the right. Seventh, reinforce the center. Hellhound Pack Alpha, Beta, focus on their left wing. Delta, Gamma, hold the right," Octavius commanded, his voice resounding magically to reach the ears of his commanders. Each instruction was given with a calm and measured tone, belying the intensity of the conflict surrounding them.

As he issued orders, he directed Nocturne in the dance of dragons. The Void Dragon twisted and turned in the air, deftly avoiding the fire breath of the Infernal Dragons while retaliating with bursts of dark energy. Octavius, for his part, drew upon his magic to enhance Nocturne's attacks, adding a layer of destructive power that sent their adversaries spiraling.

Despite the seeming chaos, there was a method to the madness. Every move, every decision, was part of a grand strategy designed to dismantle their enemy's formation and seize control of the battlefield. With each passing moment, Octavius's forces pushed forward, gaining more ground and scattering Vitis's forces.

Spotting an opening in the midst of chaos, Octavius seized the opportunity. With a powerful sweep of Nocturne's wings, they plunged towards Prince Vitis, cutting down a pair of Infernal Dragons in their path. The battle seemed to blur as they charged, all distractions fading into the background as the Prince became their sole focus.

"First and Fifth Divisions, press forward! Hellhound Packs Zeta, Epsilon, focus on the rear guard," Octavius commanded, his voice echoing through the magical communication network he had established. His instructions were clear and precise, each one calculated to maintain pressure on Vitis's forces and keep them off balance.

As Nocturne weaved between the Infernal Dragons, Octavius prepared for his assault. Drawing on his magic, he conjured a powerful spell, a sphere of dark energy forming at his fingertips. He could feel the raw power of the magic, a force that vibrated in tune with the rhythm of the battlefield.

With a final command to Nocturne, they shot forward like a bolt of lightning. As they closed the gap, Octavius released his spell, the sphere of dark energy surging towards Prince Vitis.

Vitis, with a burst of agility, jumped out of the trajectory of Octavius's attack. The sphere of dark energy flew past him, exploding against the ground and sending a shower of rubble into the air.

In response, Octavius made a daring move. Leaping off Nocturne mid-flight, he landed gracefully nearby Vitis. The Hellhounds and Imps that surrounded the Prince turned on him, a pack of snarling beasts and cackling demons ready to tear him apart.

But Octavius was prepared. His saber was a flash of silver in the battlefield's grim light, slicing through the air with lethal precision. Each swing was accompanied by the gruesome sound of metal cleaving through flesh, the sharp scent of blood filling the air. Hellhounds fell before him, their bodies crumpling to the ground, while the Imps were cut down in their reckless charge.

At the same time, Octavius wove spells with his free hand, dark energy dancing at his fingertips. With each incantation, bolts of magic shot out, piercing through his adversaries and reducing them to smoldering husks.

The battlefield around Octavius quickly became a scene of carnage, bodies of Hellhounds and Imps littering the ground. His path to Vitis was paved with death, but his focus remained unyielding. He was a force of destruction, carving a path towards the Prince with his saber and magic.

Octavius, standing among the fallen adversaries, locked his gaze onto Vitis. His voice, filled with stern confidence and an icy calm, echoed across the field of battle.

"Your forces lie defeated, Prince Vitis. The path you've chosen has led to this moment of reckoning," Octavius said, his saber still gleaming with the residual blood of his fallen enemies. "Do you not see it? The scales have tipped. This battle, your battle, has been lost."

Vitis, rising slowly to his full height, let out a laugh that echoed through the battlefield, filled with scorn and defiance. His body twisted and contorted, taking on a monstrous, demonic form. "Lost?" he sneered, his voice a deep rumble that shook the ground beneath them. "You mistake the situation, Octavius. I am far from lost."

As he spoke, three figures emerged from the shadows, each one a Goetic Noble. Their blades glinted ominously in the dim light, and an aura of dark magic surrounded them. They moved to flank Octavius, positioning themselves between him and Vitis.

Vitis's transformation was as swift as it was horrifying. His Goetic form disintegrated, replaced by a monstrous entity that was a grotesque parody of his original self. Standing at twice the height of any ordinary demon, Vitis's skin turned into a deep, sinister crimson, with ebony veins running across his gargantuan body like a network of dark rivers. His muscles bulged grotesquely, each movement demonstrating his raw, inhuman strength.

His face was no longer the smooth, handsome facade of the prince, but a terrifying visage of demonic power. His eyes burned bright yellow, radiating an insidious light that gleamed with malevolent intent. Protruding from his skull were massive, curling horns, dark and jagged, adding to his intimidating stature.

His arms were more akin to monstrous appendages, with sharp claws extending from his fingertips, each as long as a sword and capable of slicing through the toughest of armor. His legs, strong and sinewy, ended in hooved feet that dug into the ground beneath him, creating cracks with each step he took.

A pair of massive, bat-like wings unfurled from his back, stretching out to their full, formidable span. Each wing was lined with sharp spikes, and they beat the air with a force that created gusts of wind across the battlefield.

Octavius stood firm, his gaze unflinching as he met the monstrous form of Prince Vitis and his three accompanying nobles. He twirled his saber in his hand, the blade gleaming in the hellish light, its cold, silver hue in stark contrast with the fiery battlefield around him.

His posture shifted, displaying the confidence and elegance of a seasoned warrior. His feet spread apart for balance, his left hand behind his back, and his right hand holding the saber forward. The blade pointed directly at Vitis and his henchmen, the unwavering resolve in Octavius's eyes reflecting off the polished surface of his weapon.

He adjusted his grip on the hilt of his saber, his fingers curling around the handle with practiced ease. The weapon felt like an extension of his arm, a testament to the countless hours he'd spent training and honing his skills.

Octavius's aura flared around him, a potent display of his magical prowess. The air crackled with energy, the scent of ozone filling the space around him. His eyes flashed a brilliant azure, a clear indication that his magic was at its peak, ready to be unleashed.

Every fiber of his being was attuned to the battle at hand. He felt the rhythm of the combat around him, the pulsating energy of his opponents, the subtle shifts in the wind, the throbbing of his own heart. The battlefield was his stage, and he was ready for his performance.

"I am ready, Vitis," Octavius called out, his voice echoing across the field of battle. "Let's see if your demon form is as formidable as it looks."

The battlefield fell silent for a moment as Octavius lunged towards his opponents. His movements were fluid, each step, each strike of his saber, and each spell he cast flowed seamlessly into the next.

The first noble lunged at him, a massive blade aimed for his heart. Octavius sidestepped, his form a blur. He executed a swift, elegant parry with his saber, deflecting the attack with ease. As he sidestepped, he twisted his wrist, sending a stunning spell towards the second noble who was preparing a magic attack. The spell hit its mark, and the noble stumbled back, momentarily disoriented.

Octavius's fighting style was a dance of precision and control. His footwork was impeccable, each step measured and deliberate. His saber moved in a series of controlled, precise strikes, each one aimed to disarm or incapacitate his opponents.

The third noble, seeing an opening, charged towards Octavius. But Octavius was ready. He deftly dodged the oncoming attack, spinning away from the noble's blade. As he spun, he directed his saber in a wide arc, slashing through the air towards the noble. At the same time, he cast a binding spell, his voice echoing through the battlefield. The spell caught the noble off guard, and he was momentarily immobilized, his movements hindered by the magical restraints.

Now it was time for Octavius to face Vitis. The demon prince, in his monstrous form, towered over him. But Octavius didn't falter. He stood his ground, saber at the ready. Vitis roared, a primal sound that echoed across the battlefield, and lunged at Octavius. Octavius met the charge head-on. He danced around Vitis, his movements swift and graceful. He weaved through the demon prince's attacks, his saber deflecting each strike.

All the while, Octavius continued to cast spells. Bolts of energy erupted from his free hand, colliding with Vitis. But the demon prince was resilient, each attack only seeming to spur him on.

But Octavius didn't relent. He kept his focus, his eyes locked onto Vitis. His saber continued to dance, each stroke a combination of power and precision. Each spell he cast was calculated, designed to wear down the demon prince.

It was a dance of combat, a blend of physical and magical prowess. Octavius moved like a maestro conducting a symphony, each move, each spell, all parts of a grand composition.

The duel raged on, the clang of metal and crackle of magic filling the air. Octavius, unwavering, matched Vitis's brute force with graceful agility and strategic precision. The two combatants were in stark contrast – one a towering demon, the other an Owl-like figure with a saber. But their determination was the same – both were bent on victory.

Vitis lashed out, his claws extended, aiming for Octavius's throat. But Octavius was quicker. He sidestepped, his form a blur. As he moved, he cast a shield charm, a barrier of magical energy forming between him and Vitis. The demon's claws clashed against the shield, sparks of magic flying off in all directions.

Octavius didn't miss a beat. With a fluid movement, he darted forward, his saber slashing through the air. His attack was met with a roar from Vitis as the blade cut across the demon's arm. But the demon prince retaliated swiftly, his tail sweeping towards Octavius.

With a quick spell, Octavius propelled himself upwards, his form soaring over the tail sweep. As he descended, he directed his saber towards Vitis, his aim unerring. The blade found its mark, slashing across Vitis's chest.

But the fight was far from over. Vitis roared in fury, his claws scraping against the ground. He lunged at Octavius, his monstrous form a blur of motion. But Octavius was prepared. He continued his dance of evasion, his steps quick and light. His saber danced with him, a graceful extension of his will.

As the duel continued, Octavius showed no signs of fatigue. His focus was unyielding, his movements practiced and precise. Each spell he cast, each strike he delivered, was calculated. He wasn't just fighting – he was conducting a battle, his saber and magic his orchestra, his tactics his score.

With a final, calculated move, Octavius saw his opportunity. Vitis, despite his formidable strength, was beginning to tire, his movements becoming slightly more sluggish, less precise. In contrast, Octavius's stamina and precision were unwavering. His saber slashed through the air, meeting Vitis's clawed swipe with a resounding clash.

With a swift side-step, Octavius evaded a tail sweep from Vitis, simultaneously casting a stunning spell. The spell hit Vitis squarely, causing the demon prince to falter. Seizing the moment, Octavius lunged, his saber aiming for a non-lethal strike.

The saber's blade cut through the air, its sharp edge finding its mark. With a swift, clean motion, Octavius slashed across Vitis's leg. The demon prince roared as he stumbled, falling to one knee.

There was a moment of stillness as Octavius stood over the fallen demon prince, his saber still raised, ready for any sudden move. But Vitis didn't retaliate. His breath came in heavy gasps, his body weighed down by exhaustion and pain.

Octavius didn't move to deliver the final blow. Instead, he withdrew his saber, his gaze steady on the defeated Vitis. With a deep, commanding voice, he spoke, "Yield, Vitis. This battle is over."

As Octavius's words rang out in the battle's silence, a transformation overcame Vitis. His monstrous form shrank down, the grotesque features receding. His dark armor reappeared, and the tall, imperious figure of Prince Vitis stood once again on the battlefield, looking every bit as regal as before, albeit slightly worse for wear.

However, the moment of victory was short-lived. The sound of a clock striking midnight echoed through the air, its deep chimes reverberating across the city. One by one, all the clock towers in the city followed suit, their combined tolling creating a haunting symphony that filled the night.

Upon hearing the ominous chimes, a look of pure horror replaced the defiance on Vitis's face. Octavius too, despite his stoic demeanor, couldn't hide the dread that filled his eyes. They both knew what this meant.

The Exorcists were coming.

The mere thought of these creatures sent a ripple of fear through even the bravest of souls. An extermination was upon them, a night of pure terror and chaos. Vitis and Octavius shared a look of horror, their personal conflict momentarily forgotten in the face of this greater threat.

They had been so focused on their own battle, so consumed by their personal vendettas, that they had forgotten the inevitable. As the clocktower continued to toll, marking the start of a new day and the beginning of the extermination, Vitis and Octavius were left to face the horrifying reality of what was to come.

The Extermination had begun.

The clock tower's final chime reverberated through the silence, its ominous echo fading into an anticipatory hush. Then, the skies above Imp City ignited in a horrifying spectacle. Silhouetted against the black expanse were hundreds of Exorcists, their goat-like horns and LED screen masks glinting in the city's neon glow. The sudden flare of their descent was like a nightmare given form, a spectacle of terror that cast long, monstrous shadows over the city.

As they swooped downwards, their wings spread wide, the first screams began to ring out. The Exorcists were armed with an assortment of deadly weapons, each styled after divine instruments of war. Spears that mirrored harpoons, ethereal swords, and a chilling assortment of guns and knives, all designed for a singular, grim purpose: extermination.

Like the apocalyptic horsemen of old, the Exorcists charged into Imp City, their arrival heralded by a wave of terror that swept through its denizens. The screams grew louder, more frantic, as the first of the Hellhounds and Imps fell under the Exorcists' relentless assault. The terror was palpable, a chilling specter that gripped the city in its cold grasp.

Blood-curdling shrieks of agony filled the air, mingling with the horrific sounds of battle. Buildings erupted in chaotic energy as the Exorcists set about their grisly work, their weapons gleaming ominously with each swing, each thrust. The demonic city, previously engrossed in its own internal struggle, was now united under the shadow of a common, terrifying enemy.

And so, amidst the chaos and screams, the Extermination had begun. A dreadful massacre that turned the city into a veritable abattoir, an event that would continue to scar the memory of Imp City's surviving inhabitants.

Residents of Imp City, both lowborn Goetians and Hellhounds alike, scattered in every direction, their previous conflicts forgotten in the face of this terrifying onslaught. Buildings lit up with chaotic energy as the Exorcists descended, their weapons gleaming with a deadly light. The city that was once consumed by the feud of Vitis and Octavius was now united in fear, a single entity facing an impending doom.

manic grin stretched across Vitis' face, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "So, Octavius," he said, his voice a rasping whisper, "ready to watch your pitiful little army be slaughtered by the Exorcists? Ready to lose all your precious friends because you were too weak to protect them?"

Octavius met his gaze, his expression steely. "You forget, Vitis," he replied, his voice ringing clear over the screams and chaos, "you share the same fate. The Exorcists don't discriminate. But unlike you, my friends won't be left alone to face them."

With that, he turned to Nocturne, his loyal Void Dragon. The dragon, sensing his master's intent, knelt low, allowing Octavius to hoist the weakened bodies of Vitis and his Goetian nobles onto its back. Despite their recent battle, Octavius felt a grim satisfaction in saving these enemies from the ruthless extermination. After all, they were all hellbeings, and in the face of the Exorcists, such petty feuds were meaningless.

Octavius climbed onto Nocturne, taking one last look at the city being ravaged by the Exorcists. With a powerful beat of its wings, Nocturne took off, heading towards the nearest shelter. As the dragon carried them away from the chaos, Octavius couldn't help but wonder what the aftermath of this horrific night would bring.

Nocturne descended, landing smoothly at a reinforced shelter, filled with the growling and barking of Hellhounds and the disciplined ranks of Legionaries standing guard. The shelter was teeming with lowborn demons seeking refuge from the ongoing extermination, their eyes wide with terror.

Octavius assisted in unloading Vitis and his nobles, their bodies being taken by Hellhounds for healing and care. However, as he looked around, he could see the fear in the eyes of the lowborn, their trembling bodies huddled together. Their lives, their existence were no less valuable than his own.

A new resolve kindled in Octavius' eyes, a spark of defiance amidst the terror and despair. He would not cower while his people were being exterminated. He could not stand idle and let the Exorcists slaughter his people without resistance.

Turning to Nocturne, he laid a hand on the dragon's flank. "Stay here, my friend," he instructed, his voice low yet firm. "Protect them."

Octavius took a step back, looking into Nocturne's eyes, sharing a silent understanding with the dragon. Nocturne nodded, giving a deep growl of agreement.

Shelter Alpha, Imp City

December 31st, 1990

Octavius moved swiftly, sticking to the shadows as much as he could, his keen owl-like eyes scanning for any signs of the angelic invaders. The city was a labyrinth of narrow, winding streets and tall, crooked buildings. Normally bustling with activity, it was now eerily silent except for the distant sounds of battle. Every so often, he would catch sight of a streak of light in the sky as an Exorcist descended, their wings spread wide and their weapons gleaming in the dim light.

Octavius weaved through the city, using his intimate knowledge of the city to navigate its streets. His sharp senses were on high alert, every sound, every movement catching his attention. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Suddenly, a burst of light illuminated the street ahead of him, followed by the distinct sound of an Exorcist landing. Octavius quickly ducked into a nearby alleyway, pressing himself against the cold stone wall as he peeked out at the newly arrived foe.

He knew he had to keep moving, to find a way to help his people. But with each step, the situation seemed to become more dire. The Exorcists were descending in greater numbers, their presence an ominous sign of the slaughter to come.

Navigating through the labyrinth of Hell's city, Octavius finally arrived at a second shelter. The noise from outside seemed to fade as he stepped inside, replaced by a hushed silence filled with fear and whispers. His eyes quickly found Octavia, his younger sister, huddled in a corner.

She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening in surprise and relief. "Octavius?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. She quickly rose to her feet, rushing towards him.

She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to really look at him. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she tilted her head, observing his features. "You... You look different," she said, her voice soft and uncertain. "You look like... like Grandfather."

Octavius cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. "Paimon?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, nodding slowly. "But not just him. You also have... Father's glow," she added, referring to their father, Stolas. It was true, Octavius had taken on a new aura, a new demeanor that resembled the regal, authoritative figures of their family.

Octavius didn't respond immediately, his gaze turning thoughtful. "Perhaps it's the situation," he said after a moment, referring to the ongoing Extermination. "Adversity can bring out qualities we never knew we had."

Octavia simply nodded, looking at him with newfound respect and curiosity. She had always known Octavius was strong, but now, he seemed... different, more powerful, more commanding. He had truly embraced his Goetic lineage. And while it frightened her slightly, she couldn't help but feel reassured knowing that her little brother was there, standing strong amidst the chaos.

Noticing the fear still lingering in Octavia's eyes, Octavius reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, glowing crystal. The light it cast danced across their faces, providing a stark contrast to the dull and dreary atmosphere of the shelter.

He held it out to Octavia. "Take this," he said, his voice calm and steady.

She looked at the crystal, then back at him, confusion written all over her face. "What is it?" she asked, hesitantly reaching out to take it.

"It's a dimension warp crystal," he explained. "If the Exorcists manage to breach this shelter, use it. It will transport you to a safe location."

Octavia looked at the crystal again, this time with a sense of awe and fear. She clutched it tightly, nodding. "Okay," she whispered, swallowing hard. "But what about you?"

Octavius gave her a reassuring smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be fine, Octavia. You just focus on staying safe."

She nodded again, holding the crystal close to her chest. Octavius could see the fear in her eyes, but also a flicker of determination. He knew she would do whatever it took to survive, just as he would do whatever it took to protect her, and the rest of their kind.

With a last glance back at Octavia, Octavius turned and pushed through the shelter's entrance, stepping out into the chaos of Imp City.

As Octavius disappeared into the chaos of Imp City, Octavia was left in the relative safety of the shelter. She clutched the crystal he had given her tightly in her hand, her mind racing with worry for her brother. As she did, she felt a sudden, overwhelming sensation and the world around her seemed to blur and distort:

She found herself standing in a vast, desolate landscape, filled with the wreckage of what appeared to be a great battle. The ground was littered with the broken bodies of angels and Exorcists, their once brilliant auras dimmed and flickering. And standing amidst it all was Octavius, his figure imposing against the backdrop of carnage.

His clothes were torn and his body marred with cuts and bruises, but his posture remained unbowed, his eyes burning with defiance. In his hand, he held his saber, its blade slick with the ichor of his fallen foes. The scene was horrifying, yet strangely serene, a testament to the sheer force of Octavius's will.

And then, the vision shifted, and Octavia saw something even more astounding. Towering above Octavius was a figure of immense power and majesty, its presence radiating an aura of divine authority. It was an entity of pure light, its form indistinct and ever-shifting, an embodiment of celestial grandeur.

It was God Himself.

Octavius stood against this divine entity, his saber raised, ready to defy God himself. His gaze was resolute, his determination unwavering. He was alone, yet undeterred, prepared to face the Almighty for the sake of those he loved.

The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Octavia stunned and breathless. She clutched the crystal tighter, her resolve hardening, knowing he would be the one who may defy all and become the harbinger of a new way.

As the vision faded and reality settled back around her, Octavia blinked rapidly, struggling to comprehend what she had just seen. Her brother, Octavius, locked in a deadly confrontation with God Himself was an image that was difficult to shake off. Yet, as much as it terrified her, there was also a spark of hope - a belief that her brother was capable of the impossible.

But she knew she couldn't share this vision with anyone. It was too dangerous, too volatile. A prophecy, if it was indeed that, could incite panic or worse, false hope. If word got out that Octavius was destined to confront God, it would cause chaos.

So Octavia made a decision. She would keep this secret, locking it away in the deepest recesses of her mind. It was a burden she would bear alone.

As the shelter around her buzzed with nervous energy, Octavia pulled her focus back to the present. She clutched the crystal Octavius had given her tightly in her hand, her mind reeling with the prophetic vision. The future was uncertain and dangerous, but one thing was clear to her - Octavius would fight to the bitter end, no matter what stood in his way.

And as for her - she would do whatever it took to support him, from the shadows, in silence, keeping this terrible and incredible secret locked away.

Shelter Omega, Imp City

December 31st, 1990

Into the chaotic scene descended the Exorcists, their monochrome forms stark against the fiery backdrop of the ravaged city. As they descended on the city, the Exorcists moved with a ruthless efficiency, their angelic weapons slicing through the bodies of the demons, leaving a wake of death and destruction in their path. The screams of their victims echoed through the night, joining the chilling symphony of horror that was the soundtrack of the Extermination.

Yet, amidst the carnage, Octavius stood tall. His sharp gaze followed the flight of the Exorcists, his mind calculating their trajectories, their strengths, their weaknesses. The sight of them, so cold, so merciless, only fueled his determination. He navigated the blood-soaked streets with a grim resolve, his every step a silent vow to protect his people, to defy the angelic exterminators.

Octavius emerged into a scene of stark horror. The cobblestone streets of Imp City were stained with the blood of the fallen. Imps, their once vibrant colors now dulled in death, lay scattered amidst the rubble. Hellhounds, once fierce protectors, were strewn haphazardly, their forms still and lifeless.

The shelter's entrance was being besieged, the heavy doors shuddering under the relentless onslaught. Inside, the cries of the trapped Hell inhabitants were nearly drowned out by the brutal cacophony of the Exorcists' attack. Yet, through the chaotic noise, Octavius could hear the faint, desperate pleas for help.

With a determined glint in his eyes, Octavius gripped his saber tighter. He would not allow this shelter to fall. He would not let the Exorcists claim any more lives tonight. Like a storm unleashed, Octavius surged forward. His saber was a silver streak in the air, slashing towards the first Exorcist with a speed that betrayed his aristocratic elegance. The Exorcist parried, their celestial harpoon clashing with the saber in a shower of sparks.

Octavius moved with a grace and fluidity that belied the strength behind his blows. His stance was straight and tall, his movements precise and calculated. Every slash, every parry, every step was a part of a dance only he knew. The saber in his hand moved as if it were an extension of himself, its deadly arc cutting through the air with an ease that was almost hypnotic.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Octavius sent the Exorcist's harpoon flying. But the Exorcist was quick, lunging forward with an unarmed strike. Octavius dodged, his body bending in a graceful arc as he moved just out of the Exorcist's reach. With a swift counter-attack, his saber sliced through the air, forcing the Exorcist to take a step back.

In the blink of an eye, Octavius had weaved a complex web of attacks, his saber dancing around the Exorcist like a predator. The Exorcist was formidable, but Octavius was a tempest, his attacks relentless and unyielding.

Yet, throughout the entire duel, Octavius's demeanor remained calm, even serene. There was no trace of desperation or fear in his movements, only the cold, calculated precision of a master. His eyes were sharp, his focus unwavering. He was a storm, but a storm with purpose.

With a swift, final stroke, Octavius disarmed the Exorcist, his saber slicing through the air with a deadly precision. The Exorcist staggered back, their celestial weapon clattering to the ground.

As three more Exorcists swooped down upon him, Octavius swiftly bent to retrieve the fallen celestial harpoon. In his grip, the weapon began to glow with a soft, silver light. His eyes narrowed, his concentration absolute. The energy of his magic pulsed through him, flowing into the weapon.

In an instant, the celestial harpoon began to shift and change. Its form twisted, the metal groaning as it reshaped itself under the force of Octavius's magic. The blade of his saber and the harpoon began to meld together, intertwining in a seamless fusion of celestial and demonic craftsmanship.

The brief pause in combat allowed Octavius a moment to catch his breath. He was surrounded, encircled by the Exorcists, their otherworldly faces appearing as illuminated masks of disdain. Suddenly, a collective gasp echoed amongst them. Their attention, it seemed, had shifted from him to something else. Something that sent a wave of surprise through their ranks.

One of the Exorcists spoke, a voice akin to a thousand harmonious whispers, "A living human in Hell!" The Exorcist's voice echoed, growing louder, "We have a Code Celestia! Alert all in the vicinity! Bring the Archangel Adam!"

A wave of unease swept over the Exorcists. Such an event was unexpected, a scenario they had not been prepared for. The Exorcists' collective focus shifted away from Octavius, their eyes darting towards the direction of their newfound priority.

But Octavius was not an angel, trained and poised for combat. He knew well that in the battlefield, a single moment of distraction could be the difference between life and death. As they were momentarily distracted, he seized the opportunity. With a swift, powerful sweep of his double-edged weapon, he struck at the nearest Exorcist. The celestial being had no chance to react. His blade cut through the angel without resistance, a streak of deadly silver that met its mark with a resounding thud. The Exorcist fell, their form disintegrating into an ethereal mist, a last, eerie whisper of their presence fading into the chaos of the night.

The fall of one of their own was enough to snap the remaining Exorcists back to their senses. Their gazes returned to Octavius, the shock and surprise of the moment replaced with the horror of their fallen angel.

As the last remnants of the fallen Exorcist faded into oblivion, Octavius stood tall, his chest heaving with exertion. His gaze remained unyielding as he met the eyes of the remaining Exorcists. Raising his weapon high, he took a deep breath and spoke his name with a commanding authority that echoed through the battlefield.

"I am Octavius Goetia," he declared, his voice carrying over the cacophony of battle. "Son of Prince Stolas and Grandson to King Paimon."

His proclamation caused another ripple of surprise among the Exorcists. For a moment, their weapons wavered, their attention entirely on him.

"I have lived among these souls," Octavius continued, his voice steady. "They have become my family, my friends. I will not stand by and let you destroy them and I will not allow you to slaughter those I love."

As Octavius finished his proclamation, a noticeable change began to take hold of him. His dark red eyes, glowing with determination and defiance, began to shift, as if mirroring his resolve. The fiery red hue cooled and deepened, transforming into a vibrant, captivating purple. It was the same shade of royal purple that marked his lineage, a testament to his Goetian blood.

Simultaneously, his feathers, already a striking contrast against his dark clothes, began to darken. Their once light hue took on a deeper, more intense color, imbuing them with an ethereal quality. The change was subtle, yet undeniably striking.

And then, his aura shifted. The soft, warm light that had always surrounded him started to intensify, glowing brighter and deeper. The vibrant violet light seemed to pulse with his heartbeat, casting long, eerie shadows around him. It was an inspiring sight, a silent declaration of his powerful heritage and unwavering resolve.

The transformation was complete. Octavius stood in the midst of the field of ever increasing Exorcists, his transformed appearance a beacon in the chaos. His eyes, now a deep purple, bore into the Exorcists, daring them to challenge him. His aura, now a deeper shade of violet, seemed to radiate an energy that was almost palpable to King Paimon himself.

Octavius Goetia had fully embraced his lineage, and he was ready to face whatever came next.

As the standoff between Octavius and the Exorcists reaches its peak, the young prince's transformation has sent waves of anticipation through the battlefield. With his purple eyes glowing like twin stars and his aura radiating with unmatched intensity, Octavius Goetia stands ready to protect his people and challenge the heavens themselves. But will his newfound strength be enough to face the wrath of the Exorcists?

And what of the prophecy seen by Octavia? Will her vision of Octavius standing victorious over the defeated Exorcists and even God himself come to pass? Or does it foretell a darker, more grim future?

The Extermination has begun, and the battle lines are drawn.

Will the son of Prince Stolas and grandson to King Paimon prevail? Or will the Exorcists succeed in their divine mission?

Find out next time on... Dragon Ball Z!

Hey, I am hyped on adrenalin and I really enjoyed writing this chapter! And holy wow, we have hit 70K words for this series already! Goodness, as we approach 100K and 100 Favorites, we reach several other milestones in this series. At the moment, I just made the record of writing 50k words in a single week's time and it looks like we'll hit 100k within the month!

With that being said, let's talk about the plot for a moment:

-Octavius killing an Exorcist: Taking the scenario of "killing your enemy with their own blade" is the approach when dealing with Angelic foes! Plus, there is more to the fight that will be explained in later chapters!

-Octavia's Vision/Prophesy: A lot is going on in this one, since Octavius just killed an Exorcist, things are going to get more interesting from here!

-The Battle: Nuff said, I like combat and tactics/wargame strategy. Plus, if you're a WH40K player, I played the Astra Militarum Artillery+Infantry Build. We are not into Krieg territory but... I have a plan Arthur!

-The Transfiguration of Octavius and his dragon: Given that it would look comical if a ten year old owned towering and hulking creatures, it made sense for Oct to transfigure himself into an older version of his body, given the circumstances. This is not to say that his abilities are enhanced through this way, just putting that out there in case anyone has an idea lol.

Hoped you all enjoyed this chapter and please don't be afraid to Fav or Follow this story, means a lot!

Thank you for your time,

-True