Light/Dark Slayer

One Shot Work

Korey J. Henson

________________________________________________

Erik

In this camp of the Marching Wolves, set south of Groven, the former land of beauty, steel met and clashed as young Knight Erik sparred withsquire Corgen in the early evening as dusk soon fell upon them. In truthhowever, Erik did not think of this as a spar, rather, a sort of training exercise. For Corgen was a nobleman, the son of a fallen king in the land of Groven slain by the demons of the Abyss. The land that Corgen would have inherent was now nothing but the equivalent of a wasteland, filled to the brim with corpses, maggots, rot, and demon spawn that took pleasure in the destruction.

Corgen was pampered with a silver spoon in his mouth since birth and probably wore diapers of the finest material. To be wed with a princess and sire his children—unfortunately the woman too had her life taken from her. He never pictured himself one day wielding a weapon, but after that day, after seeing his father murdered in front of him by the hellish monstrosities of the Deep, he knew he had to do something. To shred this unnecessary fat, get in shape, learn the ways of a weapon, thereligion that he once looked down upon, and change for the better—something that would surely take time to accomplish, evident in this spar.

Erik dodged each of Corgen's strikes without fail. For Corgen was a rather large, plump figure. Tall. Fat. He chose to wield a massive two handed club of sorts. A powerful weapon, surely, but required disciplineto use effectively, a concept Corgen was not exactly the most well versed in. Though, Erik did not underestimate him. Corgen's strike, while unfocused, were devastating if made contact upon even Erik's shield. When the mighty weapon had struck him the first time, shield up to guard against the attack, Erik flew several feet back and nearly lost the spar. However, Corgen was predictable, monotonous, clumsy. Itreminded Erik of fighting a rabid bear or berserker of sorts. He simply needed to bide his time, wear the beast out, drain his stamina.

Erik had noticed that Corgen's movements were full of openings, exaggerated. Corgen had winded up a large, heavy downward strike, right where Erik had been standing. Erik had sidestepped the attack with ease, leaving his opponent open for not one, but several seconds. “Foolish”, Erik said to himself. With a strong jab of the end of his sword, he struck Corgen's hand as hard as he could, forcing him to release the weapon. He bashed his mighty shield, Ravaghaust, against Corgen's shoulder, stunning him for just a tad longer. Finally, with a firm kick to Corgen's chest, not even his gray, heavy armor could protect him. Corgen had fallen over on the ground, and not a split second later Erik had stood over him—holding his gold durandel, named Repent, to his throat.

“Yield!” Corgen had said. Hands held high and palms open, a sign of meaning no harm. “I yield!”

“Very well.” Erik replied. Sheathing his blade before jumping off Corgen. He had a slight smirk after realizing that he landed harder on the ground due to Corgen's fat acting as an artificial trampoline. Erik had offered his hand for Corgen to take. “Come now, up with you.”

Corgen accepted. Reaching for the hand and latching on to it. Erik had hoped in the back of his mind that Corgen's weight would not drag him down to the ground with him, or perhaps fracture his spine. Corgen stood up, removing his helmet to reveal a man with a bulbous, chubby face, with black hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and chinstrap beard. Erik hadguessed he was, perhaps, in his late teens just as he was.

“I swear...” Corgen began, attempting to catch his breath with a face of red from the exhausting spar. “The day I defeat you in a spar is the day I ride a dragon through the skies.”

“No.” Erik said before lightly jabbing Corgen's stomach. “The day I lose to you is the day you let loose that belly and learn some art in your attacks.”

“So never?”

“Probably.”

The two laughed after this while Corgen ruffled Erik's short brown hair,annoying him as he slapped it to the side. Erik was a man that for some odd reason had what others would call an "unhealthy obsession" with keeping his hair in a certain way. He had always kept either a brush or comb on him, even in battle—evident in how he pulled his brush out and began whisking his hair down.

“We may laugh but this is no joke, Corgen.” Erik began while continuing to brush his bangs. “Your weight will hinder you in battle, bring you down.”

Corgen had crossed his arms and produced a smug smile on his face that in Erik's mind was begging to be stomped against the curb. “I'd sayI'm fast enough.”

“Then you're a fool.” Erik simply replied. “You think of yourself as onewho can outrun a hellhound?”

“.... Perhaps a Corpse Walker?”

Erik's palm had slapped hard against his own face, knowing that CorpseWalkers were one of the slowest creatures from the Abyss. If a toddler were to be put on a track with one it would be smart to bet money on the Walker coming in last.

“A bloody snail could outrun a Walker.”

“Indeed. I see no problem here.”

Corgen had always been a jokester. A court jester. He loved laughing, and making others laugh, even now when he had nothing left. But this served as a facade to hide his true feelings of pain, regret, sadness. His father had always told him, “When life gives you hell, boy, learn to laugh a little.” Whether he took the message too far or not is, perhaps, up to interpretation.

Another sigh before Erik spoke. “At dawn I am going to wake you up out of that bed of yours and we're going to go training.”

“Yay...” Corgen replied ever so faintly, and sarcastically, followed with a slow applause. Erik looked into his eyes, they had grown serious, strict, angry. Corgen quickly ceased his folly, and dedicated his attention towards him.

“Good man.” Erik said. “Fifty sit ups. Fifty push ups. A jog around the camp twenty times, then—”

“Then?!” Corgen interrupted. “What the hell else do you have planned planned?!”

“If you would allow me to finish...”

“I do not believe I want to.”

“....”

“You could drive a man mad, Corgen.”

“Already have.”

Erik was being pushed to his limit at this point. If it were not for a

voice calling his name from the side he may has struck Corgen in the face with his fist.

“Erik!” Jin had called him over while standing outside the barracks. “A moment of your time please.”

Erik shrugged before saying one last thing to Corgen.

“We will discuss this later.”

“Thank. God.”

Erik forced himself away from Corgen before doing something he may have regret. Afterwards he walked to his friend to meet his gaze. Jin was Erik's best, most trusted, and possibly only friend. A scribe for the Holy Knights. Young, black hair brushed down similar to Erik's, green eyes, and a relatable past, being an orphan since his own birth and being raised by the organization. The two had gotten along well for most of their lives, though Jin had always worried for Erik, so bent on culling the darkness from the world, so dedicated to training and battle.

“Hello, my friend.” Jin said, shaking Erik's hand while holding a plate of bread in the other. “I watched that back there. Twas a good spar to pass the time.”

“Surely you jest.” Erik replied. “It was bonkers is what it was, foolish.”

“What are you speaking of?” Jin asked with a curious look.

Erik shrugged before continuing. “Corgen needs to man up.” He proclaimed. “He could only land one strike on my shield, strong, but dull. His openings wide, his flaws many, his speed lacking, his humor mind numbing. If Corgen does not throw aside his act he will soon fall dead to the demons.”

Jin thought for a moment. Erik possessed a valid point. Ever since Jin had first met Corgen he could tell that, in a way, he was childish. But atthe least seemed happy. His jokes kept him going through this war of bloodshed. “The man is just making the best out of his situation.” Jin replied. “Perhaps you should learn how to do the same?”

Erik placed his hand on the hilt of his sheathed blade, the end of the

weapon being a dark blue. “The best a man can have in any situation is a sword.”

“Yes. I'm quite sure when you're starving you can eat that sword for sustenance, perhaps even crap out gold? Now why don't you be a good sport and eat a bit of bread?”

“I've no need for bread.” Erik declined the offer, lightly moving his head side to side. “It will do nothing but fatten me up for the demons. What I need is meat.”

After Erik said this Jin laughed, so much so that he had to muffle his mouth in order to control his laughter and make sure the bread did not fall to the ground. “Good luck. Meat is low, and our livestock are few. Less than ten heads I bet.”

“Seems like I'll be starving then.”

Jin, fed up with Erik's words, had placed the plate of bread down on theground, pulled out a light variation of plastic and began wrapping a fewpieces. Afterwards he stood up and placed it against Jin's chest.

“Just eat a little. You need this, surely someone of your lean build and profession can burn them off in a day or two.”

Erik contemplated for a few moments, but eventually took the bread and placed it in his pocket. “A decent argument.”

“Praise God some light can shine through that empty, yet stubborn headof yours.” Jin said before taking a piece of bread on the plate and beginning to feast on it in the other hand. “Now listen...” His chewing halted his words. “I didn't just call you over here for nothing. General Myra wants to see you in her quarters.”

“For what?”

“Hell if I know.” Jin answered before wiping away a few crumbs from his mouth. “I must return to the scribes. Our stomachs have been rumbling like the earth since this morning... May your wings fly high.” Jin said before beginning to walk away.

“May your wings fly high.” Erik did the same.

Erick began moving away from the barracks and to the inn by the river. In a crumbling state due to the attack. For the wolves had set out to Groven two days ago, the demons had not expected their approach and were slain with no casualties, few injured. Simple Walkers. Five hellhounds. A few undead. And only one fauste. The demons were no bigger than a platoon, and resting, most likely a search party of sorts. They could not match the might of the wolves of over one hundred strong and were slayed in under five minutes. Still, while allowed to join them on this mission, Erik was no wolf. Through special permission from the General he was allowed to join this battle, but this was not to be misunderstood.

Ironically, despite noting Corgen's inexperience, Erik was not exactly the most well versed in combat as well. He has fought in many battles, came back injured, but alive, yet still needed to learn more—and to be kept in check. His power is built upon revenge, hate. The General couldsee it in the look of his eyes after he returned from his first battle. In theeyes of most there was fear, in Erik's, it was bloodlust. To go back and slay more—a terrible omen. The light exist to slay the dark, not take pleasure in its destruction. No matter how strong his arm may have been, Erik had much to learn before being an official Holy Knight under the banner of the Marching Wolves.

He entered the inn, opening the large brown door. Inside it were men and women, dancing, laughing, enjoying themselves. Some chose to play an instrument or too to pass the time, and lighten up the mood. Others ate bread, and the few fruits and vegetables that were not rotted by the deeps influence. Erik had a light smile as he saw the happiness of his fellow Knights, but couldn't shake the thought in the back of his mind that they were too relaxed, too calm. Every Knight, every man and women here, is in enemy territory—or at least on the outskirts of it.Groven was the first major land hit by the demonic invasion, its beauty was tarnished from their mayhem. The flowers withered, the fruits molded and rotted, the animals grew sick and weakened.

Erik clenched his fist after thinking of all that the demons had destroyed, then remembered that he was now on a task of sorts. The General's quarters were located on the third floor in one of the largest

rooms, she thought of it as fitting for her rank. He walked up all the flights of stairs, waving and occasionally giving a “Hello” when need be. He never was the most social person, finding it difficult to make friends normally. Erik forged bonds with men and women, not through conversation, but via fighting alongside them in battle. He felt like that was better than any monotonous social gathering, or forced meeting with fancy suits.

Finally ending his train of thought, Erik reached the room where he knew that the General slept. Taking up a formal, respective stance, he placed an arm around his back, using his other hand to knock on the door.

“Is that my boy?” A voice asked from behind the door, in perhaps one could say a playful tone.

“No. It is Sir Erik, of Holy Knight—”

Erik was cut short by the General.

“Yeah, that's him. Come on in!”

Erik's face had turned into a frown and a light blush. How he hated when she had called her that, ever since the day she first found him in that abandoned house in the land of Sarah all those years ago.

Once Erik opened the door he was not met with the familiar sight of thewoman in her early thirties, blonde hair in a ponytail, and amber eyes. Rather the site of a large, brown furry creature, larger than Corgen even—casually resting on the ground. Erik reached for his sword.

“What the bloody—”

“Hold your tongue!” The voice said in a strict tone. “Move along, girl.”The beast followed as the General told it. Raising itself up from the floor, on all fours, and slowly walking away to the end of the bed the General chose to sit on. Erik slowly removed his hand from the end of the sword after seeing the creature rest again.

“So quick to slay something without thinking, are you not?” The General asked, crossing her arms as she spoke.

Erik was almost lost in thought again, barely hearing her words and continuing to keep an eye on it. “By the Archangel's sword, what is thatthing?”

General Myra, leader of the Marching Wolves, laughed before answering. “Curious. I thought of you as someone to have seen a bear before.”

“No... No, no no.” Erik retorted, watching as the bear now licked its paws. “I assure you that is no bear, and if it is it must have been crossbred with some freak.”

“You poor confused sap.” General Myra laid down across the bed, making it so that her head was end of the mattress, and she could pet the creature. “What you called a 'freak' is a dire bear.”

“... A dire bear?” Erik asked, just for a second looking away from it.

“But of course. Are you not aware of their history?”

“No. Nor do I particularly care to hear it—”

“Good. Go ahead and lean by the wall over there.”

“.....”

Erik followed her wishes, but not without a swear or too under his breath as she began explaining the history of the creature Erik had called a 'freak.'

“You see, my wittle Erik.” She began, rubbing her hand across the creatures back. “The dire bear is a subspecies of what you and I are used to seeing around the lands. These ones are gigantic, for even a direwolf would piss themselves at the sight of it. And this one, here right...”Myra patted the bears back two times. “Is still growing.”

Myra looked into Erik's face, filled with shock and a bit of fear, as well as perplexity.

“You're joking...” Erik muttered under his breath.

“You wish I was, don't you?” Myra laughed again. “Unfortunately for you, I am not.”

“The beast must be twelve feet long.”

“Approximately.” She corrected him. “But she still has a lot of growingto do. Believe or not, she is only a few years old. At full size she'll be seventeen to possibly twenty feet long, and weigh six thousand to eight thousand five hundred pounds... However, she will most likely not live long enough to reach that size.”

Erik wondered what she was speaking of. The creature looked strong, what could possibly be wrong with it? “What are you talking about?”

“I may have to put her down soon.” Myra said, her tone softer, a hint ofsadness mixed in as well.

“... What's wrong with it?” Erik hesitated before speaking.

“There is no food to feed her. As you know, without food you starve, I'm sure you understand that concept.”

“A bear eats many things.”

“Yet our rations are low.” Myra countered his statement, Erik had been reminded of what Jin said. “And a part of our rations must go to the horses. If they die our travels will be longer, if our travels are longer wewill tire quicker, if we tire quicker we will require more food—which we do not have.”

“What about fruits and vegetables?” Erik continued with his questions, now starting to feel some sense of sympathy for the beast after looking at it a while longer. It did seem rather tired.

“The land is wide yet the soil is rotted, she offers us no fruit.”

“Cheese?”

“Cheese is low as well.”

“Meat?”

“In short supply, and must be fed to our men and women.”

“Bread?”

“... I suppose yeast will suffice. However, it seems that its nearly depleted now... She grows weaker everyday. But at least she has eaten recently, if ever so little. The girl munched on a garter snake I caught this morning. A fine treat, but wont keep something of her size going.”

Erik shrugged, knowing that she was right. “Is it truly necessary to put the beast down though, why not set it free to hunt on its own?”

“She will find no prey. Death through my blade is a mercy rather than falling at the hands of the Abyss.” Myra replied. “Though I bet she could take down a pretty number of walkers. If it wasn't for her state I may have wanted to train her... Do you believe that, perhaps, in anothertime, I could have made her my mount for battle?”

“Don't be preposterous.”

“Truly? I think of it to be a fine idea... But something that will not come to bloom. I suppose it would be best to come to terms with it now...”

Erik had to admit, he felt sorry for the creature the General had obviously gotten attached to. She looked at the bear, and smiled like a child with a puppy. Though, one could say that a simple dog did not exactly suit the General's personality. This—this was more like it. Erik reached into his pocket, and walked towards it. From his pocket came the same piece of bread Jin had given him, unwrapping the material around it, and offering the food to the beast. Then quickly backing away as the bear consumed it in a few seconds.

“Greedy creature...” Erik said, crossing his arms while watching it eat the last few crumbs from the floor.

“My God, has somebody finally grown a heart?!” Myra asked in a sarcastic tone.

“If I did not have a heart I would not be standing.” Erik replied with a smirk across his face.

“Tell that to the Abyss Knights.” General Myra had referred to other spawns of the Abyss, possessed and hollow Knights with no flesh beneath. Animated armor, the devil Kira's signature unit. Myra sat

herself up on the bed, urging Erik to take a seat next to her by patting the mattress. Hesitantly, Erik did as she had wanted.

“Be prepared, Erik.” The General began. “We go to battle in the morning.”

“Battle?” He asked.

“Indeed.” She replied.

“Our forces are no more than a bit more of a hundred men. You wish to face a thousand demons with that force?”

“The reports were false. That thousand that was originally here, half of those forces have moved to Sarah. And not to fear. I have word from the other Knights, reinforcements are on their way.”

“More men?” Erik asked again.

“More than that...”

It took a few moments for Erik to understand what she was referring to.

“Angels?”

“Angels.”

_________________________________________________________

The Six Devils

In the deepest, darkest pits of hell, where no light could shine, nor any angel could spread their wings and take flight, sat a tall man of pale skin on a log, with black hair, short and slicked back, blackened eyes, and matching armor. Glass of wine in hand, leg crossed with a smile across his face. He had finished his glass, that makes three now. Reaching down to pour another. Still, no matter how much he had drunken he could never get intoxicated from it. Ironic, Clause, the devilof flesh, pleasure, gold, sin, and wine cannot get a a bit tipsy from the drink he was known for. It was for this reason that he sighed,

disappointed. He was always curious as to how man felt when plasteredby wine, what happened to their senses? How dull had they become? Would it be fun to him? He had far too many matters on his plate to deal with. Taking joy in the succubus and women of hell, drinking to his hearts content, making sure to collect the finest of treasure, and of course— bittering about with his fellow devils.

“You dare question my men?!” Astaroth, devil of corruption had said toAzira, devil of wrath, with anger in his tone.

“Thy 'men' fall to angel and man alike, cut down like straw to even a dull blade!” Azira replied.

“My army is immortal in the undeath!”

“They're walking corpses, inefficient. So much so that man uses them to train their young soldiers, shameful!—”

“'Inefficient?' 'Shame?'” Kira, the devil of slaying and bloodshed interrupted the two. “Azira, you deem Astaroth's spawn to be faulty, when in truth one could say that yours are even worse.”

“My demons are of the wrathful, the strongest hell has to offer!” Azira stepped up to Kira's claim, voice dripping with anger and venom.

“The spawn of thy banner know no restraint. They boast of power and strength, blood and gore, though mindless and empty in the head. Bulky, gargantuan brain-dead marauders.

“A single Abyss walker can slaughter a hundred men!”

“If they are as foolish as the spawn of Azira. A human of average intelligence and skill can cull thy brood in a matter of hours.”

Kira was not without truth. Azira's demons are powerful—very, but lacking in overall thought and tactics, usually needing to be led by a more intelligent demon. Large in shape, horrifying, yet defeated with ease against a user of the Ascendant who have experience against her kind. Meanwhile, Astaroth's demons, the army of the undead, are vast in number, the largest army in hell. Like a virus they can spread among the corpses of man, transforming them and reanimating their flesh to

become spawn of the Abyss. Ghouls. Corpse Walkers. Liches. Wraiths. Flesh golems. Nearly anything that lives, rather, lived once before can be twisted into a minion of the Deep.

Meanwhile, Kira's forces were possessed armor. Hollow Abyss Knightsreanimated through the lost souls of the Abyss. Kira's demons were without a doubt the most skilled. Humanoid most of them may be, but they had knowledge and instinct. Defensive lines. Well versed in the ways of a sword and other weapons

“What say you, Clause?” The voice of Kira spoke.

“Come now, brother, I'm not in this trivial debate of yours. Just let me enjoy the show... Magandoth, how about you?”

“Feelings mutual.” Magandoth, devil of deception replied. His troops were of the weakest in hell, but made up for in their their vast numbers,in the same line as Astaroth's, and are excellent fodder.

“How I wish you would take the form of flesh, brother.” Clause had said with sarcastic sadness in his voice. “Now you leave me alone with these blubbering, uptight bitches and bastards that make me want to fallasleep from the sheer monotony of it all.”

Azira took no form of flesh, she did not need to. A great force of wind had disarranged Clause's slicked back hair, and made the glass of wine fall out of his hands.

“I'll have thy head on a pike!” Azira threatened.

Clause chose to sigh, and with a snap of his fingers a comb had manifested in his own hand, and another glass to his feet. He slicked hishair back in the order it was in before. “Magandoth, I know you've been keeping track, how many times has she told me this now?”

“I believe she has exceeded the limit of numbers that man has currentlyconstructed.”

“Fine then, let's say we make a new one. What is the highest number man possesses?”

“One moment.... According to my brood it is one—”

“Silence!” Kira interrupted again, yet his voice was strict and demanding. Clause thought of himself as one with no authority, that he was the only true devil. Still, Kira was at the very least someone he hada slight sliver of a form of respect for. He gave the devil his attention.

“Bickering among each other is pointless.” Kira proclaimed. “We can do so when the angels have their light stripped and man has had their numbers culled... Erebus.” Kira called the name of Erebus; devil of the shade. “You say that man and angel may be concocting an assault in theland of Groven?”

“Correct.” Erebus replied, his voice the deepest and most demonic out of all six of them.

“What evidence do you have for these claims?”

“My pets have taken hold of a wielder of the Ascendant, human dog, found south of Groven.”

Silence filled the area, the mood had changed from rabid, sporadic anger to curiosity. For a moment, the six devils had been humbled. All focus was towards Erebus, though taking no shape.

“Interesting.” Magandoth said. “This could be indicative of a rebellion in the area... I assume thy spawn are wise enough to torture this light spawn for further information?”

“Of course, though the spawn of my brood claim this one to be strong willed, not easily broken.”

“Or perhaps thy methods are too light.” Clause said, now ignoring Erebus and partaking in more of his wine.

“Not to worry. My favorite puppet will soon turn his light to shadow.” Erebus replied.

“... I see!” Clause replied with excitement in his tone, he knew who Erebus was referring to—his creation of the same name. “That wench is stubborn, slick, elegant... Tell me, what must I offer to take her to mybed?”

“Nothing you possess, as I have told you before.”

“What if she were to come to me willingly?”

“She will not.”

“What if I were to take her by force?”

“Then you will die.”

“Return to thy whores, Clause.” Kira demanded. “She will not be touched by thy hand of plague and depravity”

“'Plague'” Clause had quoted him, perplexed. “Surely you must be referring to Astaroth!”

Kira chose to drown out and ignore Clause's laughter from his own statement, showing more and more how arrogant he was in the eyes of the slayer devil. “Erebus, make sure she succeeds.”

“She has proven herself before, she will do so again.” Erebus replied.

________________________________________________________

Erebus

A cool breeze ventured through north of Groven as Erebus, creation of her master of the same name, sat on the edge of a cliff leading into a forest of dead, rotted trees. Her long black silk-like hair flowing like water in the air, while her matching armorengulfed her body. She chose not to wear her medium length red cape, as she normally did. As Erebus only had don it in battle, as of custom and necessary for a servant of her master, a sign of being his herald of sorts—why Black Knight was the exception? Who knew.

She tossed one of her throwing knives sporting a blackened blade in herhand in a precise movement that some would even say is beautiful, though most men would not say that, as it most likely means that their time in this world is borrowed. Erebus had kept her eye on this one, specific flock of birds. She loved them—extremely difficult targets. Erebus had ceased swinging her legs back and forth, her gold eyes sharpened, arm winding with the weapon in hand. The birds slowed

down their flight for just a few moments—no—a split second. In that moment Erebus threw the knife with such force, such speed, that in lessthan another second the bird had a knife through its body, and took a long trip down to the forest floor.

“Still got it.” She said to herself before grabbing another knife from oneof the compartments in her armor, doing the same as before, tossing, twirling, fiddling around with the knife in her hand.

Erebus would have at least, if she did not hear footsteps several feet behind her, crunching against sticks and leaves. They were certainly notan enemy, as the steps were calm and uncaring. Then followed by whistling. Around one hundred feet away lead to a town in Groven the demons had recently destroyed, she never was one to stick around for too long after slaying, choosing to stray away from the group. The stepsstopped, the whistles continued, but in notes of two. She could feel the eyes on the back of her, but did not turn around.

Whistle.

“...”

Whistle.

“......”

Whistle.

“.........”

Before it happened again Erebus interrupted the fool.

“That's a nice tune you have there.” She admitted. “ Though I suggest ifyou want my attention you speak to me as you would anyone else, not call me over like I'm your bitch.”

“Apologies, my dear.” The voice replied. “For it is a habit of sorts.”

“We have many habits. For instance, I have a habit of cutting out the

tongue of those who offend me.”

“I like whistling better.”

Erebus, annoyed with the words of the voice, chose grab her katana. Unsheathing the weapon by its red hilt and removing it from the blackened sheathed, then staring at the blade. It was jet black, enveloping. She could get lost in it forever, hell, it could even be a sort of tool to relax herself. One of her comrades, Black Knight, said that if you were to look in it for too long you would become blind. For Erebus, however, it provided company. All she had to do was draw it, stare at it, and all of her troubles temporarily left from her mind.

“What business do you have with me, Malice?” She now referred to thevoice as his name.

“Funny you ask. Do you recall that group of men the hellhounds snuffed out?”

“Nope. I now possess short term memory loss.”

“Cute.” Not just a quick comeback Malice could think of in an instant, he genuinely found her blunt nature amusing, arousing. It made him laugh, at his own expense of course. “In regards to those men, it seems that one of them was strong with the Ascendant.”

Erebus gave more attention to Malice, slightly turning her head towardshim. “One who can manifest it?”

“Indeed. Before beat into unconsciousness he slayed a decent number of Abyss spawn.”

Turning her head back in front of her, now looking into the sky as dusk fell, Erebus placed a hand on her chin. “Have their wings been clipped and their light stripped?”

“There lies the problem.” Malice replied. “Unwavering he is. I've tried

many a trick, but he will not submit.”

“I'd bet a few coins to say you're just not trying hard enough.”

While she could not see it Malice crossed his arms at her statement. “Well now, men cannot tell us anything if they are dead, right? They tell no tales.”

“Would you like me to show you a few of our kind that contradict that, a lich or two?”

“Fine then.” Malice conceded. “Perhaps I'm not the best at such things, which is why I require assistance... From you.”

“Awe. I feel so wanted.”

“Also, twas an order from Lord Erebus.”

His words had caught Erebus's interest, but she shrugged after thinking about it for a bit longer, recalling the times Malice had used this excusefor other matters. One time he had said that “Lord Erebus request that you strip in front of me.” Or perhaps “Lord Erebus wishes for me to bed and wed you.”

“Bullshit.” Erebus spat to his claims. “If twas an order from our Lord the roach would have showed itself to me.”

Another whistle from Malice escaped his mouth. The same annoying tune that had finally gotten to her.

“You want my attention, do you!”

She grabbed the katana and quickly spun toward him. In the blink of aneye a dark purple flash of light had spawned from nowhere, and Erebusdisappeared. In the next moment she was standing in front of Malice. She was met with those same purple eyes, fitted with glasses. Brownishred hair that was slicked back. A brown shroud that covered his body, and brown boots. And that smile that urged her to cut his lips off. She

would have too, if he she did not notice that Malice's palm was open. On top of it lied a roach, the Roach—a messenger for their master.

“Lord!” Erebus sheathed the katana, and immediately bowed as a sign of respect.

A voice came from the large insect, the same as her master, and creator—Erebus. For he had named her the same for being his most powerful demon, or at least was before being defeated by Rhaust in combat. No, the word "powerful" is not appropriate for Erebus. While she was well versed in death and the ways of the Abyss, her strength lies not in killing, but trustworthy nature. His creation would always get the job done, no matter what rule she had to break and bend to her will—there was always motivation behind it.

“Why do my creations argue among one another as children would?” The roach spoke, voice just as deep as before in the Abyss.

“One could say it is the nature of demonkind, Lord.” Erebus replied, keeping her head down. “For would you have thy creation as submissive and docile as a kitten? No. We must fight, builds character.”

“I've no interest in your opinions, Erebus. If you wish to slay take thy blade and soldier upon man and angel alike. Speaking of which...” Her master silenced her, not needing to hear anymore. “Malice has informed you of the man, yes? Follower of Ascendance and light?”

“Yes, Lord.” Erebus answered.

“This man holds secrets of his kind, obviously. Humans are just as the very form you see, roaches. One indicates of more. You will take his light, singe his soul, put it to shadow, break his will—reveals his secrets.”

“A simple task.” Erebus said, more confident yet still respectful in her tone.

“I'm glad you believe so, as if you fail I will rob you of your pet.”

Erebus was one who possessed pale skin, but those words had turned her even more white and forced her stomach to turn. She knew who hermaster was referring to, the girl she kept to her side and made a pet of. Erebus thought of this as an easy task. In truth, she knew it to be, the words of her lord were obviously there to spite, and motivate her. To make Erebus feel like she had something to lose, plant a seed of doubt in her head—a familiar tactic—for this was not the first time he had done such things. Erebus had almost trained herself to not care about anything, or anyone but herself. The more she got attached to, the morehe could take. One time she had taken a young man from a town her and Lord's forces had ravaged, the boy attracted her, piqued her interest. She took him as a mate of sorts, a toy for pleasures of the flesh. Erebus for the first time in years failed at something—she found the boy dead in her quarters.

For everything she failed at, even if just a minute task he would take from her. Being a second off in a gathering. Even for stuttering in words or speech when giving a report. The most trivial of matters, he always found a way to taint and steal what was hers.

“Are we understood?” The devil asked.

“Without a doubt.” She replied.

“Excellent. Do not fail me.”

“Promise.” Erebus gave a light smirk, still keeping her head down.

Roach had vanished into thin air. She and Malice then quickly ran through the forest at speed that most men could only dream of. The hundred feet was traversed in mere seconds. While dashing across the forest, no matter how hard she tried, Erebus could not shake the thought that, if she had failed, the child she had named "Lara" would betaken from her. One of the ways of the Abyss are the teachings of "If

you fail, you were weak. Do not curse the task you were given, curse yourself for failing at it." Instilled into all demons, all hellspawn, all liches, devils, undeath, anything that came from the pits. It was how things worked down there, little mercy, little forgiveness, if you can notadapt you simply die—yet Erebus did not feel fear, but caution. Fear is for the prey she hunts, not her—at least that is what she tells herself.

They had reached the town, the smell of rotten flesh filled the area, something she had gotten used to by this time. Demons gnawing on corpses of men women and children, patrolling the area on an endless loop, some on top of houses keeping watch for the man and angel, it seemed that all demons could see perfectly in the dark—they were of course born and most raised in it. Erebus took note of just how, admittedly, monumental the different types of demons were. Some hellhounds. Undeath. Possessed Knights. Gargoyles of flesh and flight. Liches. Know matter how many times she had fought alongside them she could never stop having a child-like wonder from the demons. Though now setting aside these thoughts as she began focusing on her task.

“Tell me, what makes this man so strong?” Erebus looked towards Malice while he was adjusting his glasses.

“His pain tolerance is astounding, a knife though the foot barely phasedhim.” Malice answered.

“More details. What other methods have you tried?”

“Burning.”

Erebus sighed.

“There a problem, love?”

“Malice, you are a fool if you think a flame will make the man give in to the dark, for the sun is a flame of its very own, the brightest of all—

you have rejuvenated him.”

“... Ah. You have a point.”

“Goddamned fool.” Erebus continued mocking him as they continued to walk down the street of the town.

“I have also incorporated sleep deprivation.”

“Good, now you're getting somewhere.”

Malice smirked knowing he had made some progress, even a light blush formed on his face.

“What you need to do is increase the pressure. Have you taken what he values the most?”

“... I do not know what that man values the most, for he has not spoken to me.”

Erebus sighed once again.

“Malice, question; what does man value the most?”

Malice thought to himself for a moment as the two halted their pace.

“... Their land?”

“Incorrect.”

“Their women and children?”

No response from Erebus.

“Their steel?”

“Even worse than before.”

“Their yeast, meat, gold, and wine?”

“No. His snake.”

“....”

“Snake?” Malice asked.

“Yes, his snake.” Erebus replied.

“As far as I know of that man owns no snake—”

Malice was cut short after Erebus's hand quickly grabbed his loins with a strong, crushing grip. Causing him to yell out in pain and fall to the ground due to the agonizing pain as the imps laughed at this harm.

“The snake in trousers you dunce.” Erebus said while he was still on the ground and holding his hands over his crotch. “Where the hell is theman at?”

Malice could not say a single word, choosing to point to the house in front of them. After thinking about it, Erebus should have guessed it was that house due to four hellhounds guarding the door.

“Good lad. Catch you in a few.” Erebus patted Malice's back, casually as she would in any other instance, uncaring of the hell she had just delivered to him and beginning to walk away.

The large hounds of red eyes and black fur eyed Erebus as she approached, flashing their yellow fangs, then calmed themselves after seeing it was a demon of her stature. Far stronger than them. If Erebus was to shoot a deadly glare at them the mutts would have whimpered and bowed obediently to her—which she must confess, did sometimes just for fun.

Erebus opened the door, the room dark, the air tainted with the smell of the Abyss. If it were not for a single candle, and her eyes built for the night, she would mostly have not been able to see. What she saw was a man of dark skin strapped to a chair, stipped of his clothing, in nothing but his gray boxers, he had been bound to a chair. On his skin laid runesthe liches placed on his skin to suppress his gift of the Ascendance.

This one had short white hair, and was young—perhaps around the age Erebus's body seemed by human standards—early twenties. The man lifted his head to meet the figure who walked through the door.

“Holy hell!” The man said with a smirk. “Now that's a step up from the ugly bastards who've stepped in here before.”

“Oh, we have a talker now do we?” Erebus stepped towards the man, now taking note of all the bruises her comrades had obviously inflicted on him. Erebus placed a hand, clad in a metallic glove, with sharpened fingertips across his cheek, cutting through the skin with ease and was creating four lines that immediately spilled blood afterwards. “We are going to have a lot of fun.”

“You can count on it.” Just as Malice spoke of, he seemed unphased by this. No sign of irritation or struggle. The man just looked to her face with a smile.

“Hmm...” Erebus contemplated.

“Got something on your mind, demon spawn?” The man asked.

“.... You're not like the others, are you?”

“I've been told once or twice.”

Erebus slowly walked behind the man, dragging her glove across the back of his face and to his head. The lines had grew bigger, more blood had been shed, but once again the man did not care.

“Listen, I'm not going to lie to you.” Erebus began. “You're going to diehere.”

“Sort of guessed that.”

“Indeed. However, you can die slowly, or quickly. I suggest you pick one now.”

“If selling out my buddies means going out painfully, screw it, why not?”

The man had made a mistake—it was never confirmed whether more ofmans forces were even in this area of Groven to begin with.

“Admirable.” Erebus said, resting her elbow on top of the mans head, while resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “Foolish, but admirable.”

“Isn't that how all men are?”

“Quite... Finally, someone who thinks like me. But as strong as your light may be it will not shine here. You will die, alone, in the dark. Just end your suffering. I can make it incredibly quick, you will not feel the slightest of pain from Blight's blade.” Erebus spoke the name of her katana.

The man laughed.

“Did I say something funny?” Erebus asked.

“No. Just that... They told me this would happen.”

“Who?”

“My superiors, they say it to everyone in case one of us gets captured. And you wanna know what they tell us to say?”

Erebus was curious.

“Die in the dark, so the innocent may live in the light.”

This was not Erebus's first torture and interrogation. She was experienced in this enough to know who the true, brave men are. The ones that don't just talk shit to seem intimidating or unafraid. The trick to separating them from the others was not if they laughed or not, laughter is an instinctual reaction that serves little in trying to dissect a

specific mans psychology. Nor was it the tone of their voice. Nor the tears. Their endurance to pain. None would reveal the truth. All Erebus had to do was look in the eyes of the man, it showed her everything. Their past. Their state of mind. It was all as transparent as air afterwards. She chose to do the same here. She walked in front of the man, kneeled down to his level, and looked directly into his eyes....

“Strong.” She said. “But not infallible.” Erebus could see it, his heart while sturdy could fall into the Abyss. This man most likely had a few screws loose that helped him through the torture. She speculated a troubled past or two lay asleep in his soul.

“Tell me.” Erebus began, still kneeled, eyes still focused on his. She didnot even blink once. “Why do you resist the Deep?”

“Because Ascendance gives me wings to fly above the dark.” The man answered

“Yet no matter how high, no matter how fast you fly—a bird must come down for water eventually. It happens not just to birds, but all creatures of flight. Even the mighty dragons fell to its influence.”

“Then I'll stay in the air for as long as I can.”

A sadistic smirk grew across Erebus's face. She unsheathed just a mere section of her weapon, showing a sliver of the blackened blade. A dark, purple aura manifested itself around it, the power of the Abyss Erebus infused in it. She then placed the blade over his skin, and slowly flayed his flesh. The man gritted his teeth in an effort to endure the pain, but tears had finally fallen from his face once Erebus finished this section. She had flayed a whole piece of skin from the mans arm, and it fell to ground. Afterwards, the man suddenly screamed out from an unbearable pain. On his exposed red flesh grew black roots that drainedhis blood. But not just his blood, his gift of light, his power of the Ascendance, siphoning it and feeding the power to the blade. Erebus

continued to do this, but this time on the mans scalp.

Erebus's next words dripped like venom from her lips. “How long can

you fly above the Abyss, with your wings of wax?”

_________________________________________________________

Danira

Two Hours Later

Danira of the Holy Knights, and patrol leader of this nights Night Walker run strode across the field with hand on pistol—or more specifically hand cannon, with a firm grasp. Her jet black hair cut into abob blended perfectly into the dark, as did her gray leather armor. Her eight men she had led tonight wore similar attire, though most chose to wear more brighter colors such as gold. Not exactly the best camouflage, but one of their teachings were that the power of Ascendance made it so that hiding behind dark colors for protection was, almost, a sign of cowardice—Danira didn't care for that lesson. She had done this dozens of times, but out here, in the dark, where yourlight grows dull, one can feel rather paranoid. However, when not in the blinding light of the Ascendant, one must admit that they have a lot of time to think—reflect.

Danira was born in the land of Gurren, mother died during her own birth and fathered by blacksmith with a chip on his shoulder. A stubborn man he was, old and cranky as well. How she loved him, taught her how to craft weapons and armor of steel and stone, but he was a close minded character. Before armageddon had happened he called the legend of angels and dragons "Posch, bosch, and bullshit." Whatever that meant. All that changed when the angels flew down fromthe clouds that day. Danira had laughed a storm, pestering him every day with her "I told you so" phrase to spite him. Danira had loved the old tales of angels, the way of the Ascendance. She followed their

teachings, not out of religion, but respect. Never drinking. Never partaking in pleasures of the flesh until wed. Just sticking to her craft, though secretly fearing that one day she would end up like her father.

But at age thirteen, after a Holy Knight had saved her in the land of mountains while out in blizzard that had come in from the land of Yahve, searching for metals, that's when she decided—she would be a Holy Knight. Any age was accepted if they had willed it, and with permission from the guardian of course. Her father hesitated, still, he could see her look—full of fire—the urge to explore. Through months of begging, assuring him she would be okay, he finally conceded—and in a weeks time she had left the land of Gurren for training to become aHoly Knight, though taking her knowledge of the craft with her. To thisday, she is quite sure her father is still at the smith shop, trying to convince his customers that a random cheaply crafted weapon is some grand jewel that deserves the highest amount of coins.

She loved the old fool, couldn't wait to see him again. May even whip up a good cup of hot chocolate just like in the old days. Too old for hot chocolate some of the other knights had thought. As Danira was now inher late teens.

Remembering days of the past, Danira was snapped back into reality after she heard the snap of a branch on the ground, based on her estimation it was approximately twenty to thirty feet in front of her and the other Night Walkers.

“God! Down!” She hissed under her breath, not wanting to know if thispossible threat could hear them. Her and the rest of the Night Walkers crouched low to the ground, barely making a single sound. “Listen...”

She and her men tuned their ears to night. Just in the distance, they could hear moaning—ever so feint moaning. A common sign of a common enemy.

“Corpse Walker?” One of the men in the back had speculated.

“Unclear.” Danira replied, hand still held on her weapon. They had knew that the demons used Corpse Walkers as a sort of... Alarm system.They made a blood curdling shriek once they had found a target they

wished to consume, while it could be local wildlife the walkers were after, they were more often than not humans. Not alerting them when on a mission that involved stealth was vital. And what was worse than them were the bloody hellhounds. If the dogs had found non human life, they simply growled. For man? They had barked. Howled. As loudas they could for other demon spawn to hear. Good luck sneaking up onthem as well, they have powerful noses that rival a bloodhound.

“Bowmen. To my side.” She gestured for the groups archer to come towards her. The man did so, looking on the ground to make sure he stepped on no branches and made as little sound as his feet clad in leather could. “The rest of you stay. Guard. Keep your eyes peeled.”

A nod was all that was needed from the men for a conformation of the order. Slowly, Danira and the archer disappeared into the night.

The two kept their stances low as they continued. Danira took point, ready to pull out her weapon at any moment. If it were a Corpse Walkerher hand cannon, named Flare, would burn it to cinders with a bullet crafted of pure energy, and most likely gore it in two, or several pieces. No need to alert the other hellish beast that could be out here though—which is why she called for the archer. Reanimated they may be—immortal they are not. One strong blow to the head, tis all one needed to put down this specific Abyss spawn. Finally, after a few more feet they found their culprit—a Corpse Walker indeed.

Though the smell gave the creature away as well, they smelled of scum,putrid flesh, and maggots. It walked in a slow place, head down, arms and the upper torso moving in a monotonous manner. Head down—perfect.

Danira had given the signal to hide behind a tree while she did the same. The spawn continued its pace, predictable and easy target. They are one of the lowest, if not the easiest of the Abyss spawn to slay. Usedas training dummies by the Holy Knights. For it is said that "If you cannot slay a Walker, drop your sword. If you cannot outrun a walker, drop the bread." A joke said back in basic training.

Still, the two needed to be cautious. If anything vocal were to escape their lips it must be the lowest tone they can muster. Working by signs,

communication via the hands was the best option. With a motion of her hands, she pointed towards the creature, mimicking the winding of a bow. The archer got the message. Slowly grabbing an arrow from the quiver on his back, and lined a shot. Breath held. Focus unbreakable. The man, just as he did with any other situation, was in a trance of some kind. He held himself in place for just a moments...

In the next the arrow flew threw the air, penetrated the decaying skull of the spawn, and fell to the ground with a hard thud.

“Excellent.” Danira said, tone still low as an ant to the ground.

“Honors, leader.” The archer replied, lowering his bow. “Though I always fear them to not truly be dead when the arrow pierces their skill,choosing to wait until we let our guard down and walk over them—then strike.”

“Want to know what my father would call that one, archer?”

“Do tell.”

“Posch, bosch, and bullshit.”

“I suggest thy father say that again after going out into the field for a few days.”

“Please, the man would strangle one of them to death with his bare hands.”

“Walkers need not breath.”

“You sure do talk a lot, archer.”

“You started it, leader.”

The archer's voice was one note and monotonous, yet ironically smart mouthed in words. Danira could tell, this one was calm, cool, collective—Erik was a bit of the same—though not nearly as calm—or cool—or collective—on second thought she casted that brief belief aside as quickly as a gambler would when they pray to God that they hit the jackpot.

“Have you a name, archer?”

The man took his hood off, and revealed his face, little that Danira could make out through the dark. Green eyes, dark skin, short black hair. Perhaps older than her. And a face that truly went with his voice, showing little expression.

“Fear my ass.” Danira had said in her head. “This man looks like one could stare down all six of the devils at once and not even flinch.”

“I be Zane, of the land of Sarah.” Zane proclaimed.

“I guessed from the skin. My father was from Sarah, you know.”

“Truly?” Zane asked.

“Oh, yes. Indeed. Tis the hair, isn't it?” Danira ran a hand through her short hair, knowing that is was common for man and women of the landof Sarah to have lighter shades, while hers was jet black. In regards to Zane, while his was indeed black, it was a light shade of it. Well, as light as the color black could be. “Do not be fooled, for my father was atraveling man who couldn't keep his paws off women—hence my birth.”

“I see... Well, best not follow the ways of thy old man, lest fall to the pleasure of the Abyss.” Zane said, still in that same monotone voice.

“I wonder how one tells if the man is joking or not?” Sarah asked, once again speaking in her head.

Danira would have thought, speculated, and wondered wondered more, but she was cut short by the sound of... Marching. Loud marching. Surely not of the wolves, as they were south, she and Zane are of now of the north—where the marching appears to be coming from. The two of them were silent for several seconds until Danira ended it.

“We need to get back to the camp.”

They heard laughter. Growls. Moans of the Abyss lusting for battle.

“Now!”

_________________________________________________________

Malice

One Hour Earlier

Hellspawn Malice took to sitting on top of the house Erebus and her captor had been within, reading a good, yet damaged book in bad condition. Torn pages. Terrible binding. Though he could not complain,for after demons walked upon land of any type usually there was nothing left. He read it to ignore the screams of the man Erebus had been torturing for information, yet, rather enjoying it. Thought of it as background music for him and his book, like being in a tavern and having a fine woman play a tune on an instrument to amuse him. He took a moment to adjust his glasses, hoping that the sounds of the man were not so loud and ear piercing that it would shatter them. Then, putting them back on to continue his read.

The boy Malice was in the past was born a bastard of the land of Yahve,no father to teach him the sword, the way of the hunt, to endure the harshness of the blizzards that made the land of snow famous. One must be cautious when traversing the land, for they could freeze and diein a matter of minutes without proper protection and training. A harsh land indeed, yet it suited the boy. He got a kick, a thrill out of the thought of death at any moment.

This particular boy, perhaps, had a few screws loose. There was a certain... Joy the bastard had, in watching, making something and someone suffer. As a child he played with matches, burning paper. On the playground, he pushed other kids to the cold snow on purpose. Whyhe did this, why he enjoyed this? Nobody could say, not even himself. Even the greatest of philosopher struggles with defining emotion, for it is mans most primal trait. His mother took note of this, tried to make him happy, shower him with the gifts she could afford for him, but it was all pointless in his eyes. There was no joy, no pleasure in such ersatz objects to distract him from the euphoria he gained from other things. The slow killing of a mouse. The ecstasy of seeing his own fleshcut, licking the blood fresh from the wound.

Eventually, he grew sick of the stigma. People looking down on him forwhat he enjoyed. How was his hobbies any different from taking a stroll? Or hunting a deer for meat? He could find no difference, didn't understand why people feared him. That's when the boy, aging, now thirteen, went to the local library, and found a few books that caught hiseye.

Necronomicon.

The Verses Of Hell.

Demonology.

Way Of The Abyss.

How they caught the boys eye. He skimmed through just a few pages ofthese books, wondering what they had to say, what everyone was fearful about—he found out. Just reading the book, how it explained demons, the tortures of hell, what lies in it, could make any man cautious. Stray away from the dark. But while some saw darkness, the boy saw opportunity. Finally, someone, anyone of anything had understood at least a tad bit of how he thought, even if just legends of sorts. He checked out the books from the library, and took them home with a smile on his face—of course hiding it from his mother.

In just one week, the large, thick book consisting of over seven hundredpages was read. Hell, he wanted to read it again for a spellcheck. It wasso interesting to him. For the first time the boy felt as if... He had founda friend of sorts, if metaphysical at that. He read the ways of the Abyss,the shadow that engulfs light. Fascinated by the line of thought. How the darkness wishes to not destroy light, but lead it to becoming stronger. Only the strongest should lead, and constantly be challenged. Everything becomes darkness, light always fades, for always darkness is eternal in some way, shape, or form.

Next was the book of Demonology—gripping—seductive as a siren. The boy had always been one for mythology, especially the great dragons who fell to the might of the Abyss. And he had always wanted a pet. Later in the book, after approximately three hundred pages, it explained how to summon a demon. “Enticing.” The boy said,

adjusting his glasses just as Malice does now.

Hellbat. One of the lowest forms of demons. Gray, slim, yet furry flying creatures, with an ugly face which holds a jaw of small dagger-like teeth. Not exactly dangerous, but playful creatures, a little more than imps. The boy had read that summoning a demon requires some form of sacrifice, or offering. For this demon it was rather easy to summon. Just one drop of blood, a simple pentagram, and an insect to offer as a sort of "treat" to the Abyss spawn. “Easy.” Said the boy.

One cut of blood, one trip to the basement, a few strokes of the hand with chalk later, and in five minutes he had himself a hellbat. A real. Life. Hellbat. He saw the flesh and bone form, take shape right on top of the pentagram—beautiful. It ate the treat with a little smile across thelittle spawns face. The creature had even let the boy pet him—for a short time. For it even said in the book to never, never trust a demon. Their kindness is but a facade to rebel against the one who summoned it, they are not be underestimated. After the boy let his guard down,the creature bit his finger. Jaw clamped shut on the tender flesh, by the timethe boy pulled it off a chunk of skin and flesh was missing.

The boy yelled out in pain, kicked the creature to the side of the room, and quickly destroyed the pentagram rubbing his foot clad in a sock on it. The demon disappeared, yet the boy did not learn his lesson. He wanted to master this, as much as he could. Thinking that this was just a simple mistake. So he tried again, for everyday of the week while his mother was at work. Trial and trial, error and error. But with each summoning his will got stronger and stronger in order to control the demons. He had done this for years.

By age fourteen he had summoned a hellhound under his command. Byage fifteen he had successfully summoned a succubus to rob him of innocence. By sixteen he had summoned a ghoul to piss around with. But by age seventeen he was caught. His mother had found him playingchess with an imp, in his lap was a succubus rubbing a hand over his chest, and a hellhound resting by his side. His mother had screamed outin horror of the monstrosities. The boy? He adjusted his glasses, and with a snap of his finger ordered his loyal hound to tear apart her throat—doing so without hesitation.

His mother lay dead on the ground, hound still gnawing on her neck like a bone. The boy was unphased, uncaring by this. He was already long gone, mind too clouded by his "friends" to care about other, such trivial humans. The boy thought of demons as the only ones he will ever need. In the night he packed up his things, and fled from his town in the land of Yahve. Traversing the harsh lands, and taking shelter in a decent cave. How he would survive? He did not know, he did not care—he just needed more time to his friends.

He decided to summon his favorite succubus, the one that had kept himcompany during all these years. Actually spoke to him, unlike the others who said nothing, did the task, and vanished into thin air. But he needed a quick session to take his mind off of things. He had laid downa mat on the cave floor, and the two began.

Five minutes into their session the boy suddenly felt odd. Removing hislips from her neck and looking down at his own, he was feeling... Dizzy.

He looked down to his neck.

Blood was pouring out. He could see his own flesh, and a large bite mark. The last thing he remembered was falling to the ground as his vision grew darker and darker, and seeing the succubus smiling with blood dripping from her lips.

“Not as good as I thought it would be.” Malice closed the book, after thinking about it, it was a rather bad read.

That was all he could remember about his life before being turned into a hellspawn, and being the servant of his master, Erebus. He had obviously been sent to hell for his acts, that much he knew. But there were still pieces of his memory missing—memories he longed to retrieve.

The screams had stopped.

“Looks like lovely is done.”

_________________________________________________________

Erik

One Hour Later

The men and women of the Marching Wolves poured into the front gate of the base camp as the three figures clad in gold and white armor, taking horses as their mounts strolled into the the camp under the wolves banner. These figures were the reinforcements the General had spoken of—angels; masters and the originators of the ways of the Ascendant. Their few numbers were not to be laughed at, for one angel can slay a hundred, two hundred, three hundred of decent demon spawnwithout falling into their abyss.

Some of the wolves cheered, others, such as the General and Erik, saluted as they grew ever closer. Surely these three would be their saviors. It was estimated that the demon spawn nearest to them had an army of five hundred strong while the wolves was only a few over one hundred—this would tip the odds to their favor.

One could easily spot the angels, they tend to wear the brightest of armor, as were their horses. Other than this they always had yellow eyes that anyone could see clearly. Most are strict, honorable, follow code and tradition. Man speaks to them in a respectful manner for their gift of Ascendance and light to combat the demons of hell.

General Myra stood at the end of the angels path with Erik by her side, the other wolves took to standing on the left and right in order to form aclear walkway for them.

The angel in front, leading the other two, was obviously the most experienced. While he was no mortal if going by the age of man he would be aged. Having a chin curtain beard of grayed hair, and focusedeyes. On his back held two large axes, obviously meant to be wielded with two hands.

To the leading angels right was an.... Oddity, at least among their kind. A tall man with dark skin, a bald head, and a soul patch of black hair below his lower lip. The reason the General gave him an odd eye is

because, unlike others, he seemed carefree. He was waving back at the other wolves who cheered the angels on, enjoying the stir among the crowd with a smile. He held no weapon, not a sword nor a shield, but instead carried gauntlets on his wrist of gold, and greaves on his legs ofthe same color.

The final angel was female. Shoulder length blonde hair, by the standards of man she would have been in her mid twenties. She looked similar to the leading angel with an unbreakable focus that ignored the crowds words—especially the foolish men who whistled to her as if courting some common class courtesan. In her mind they were begging to get cut down by her dual swords sheathed on her back.

The leading angel decided they were close enough, dismounting their horses and walking towards the General. Same tight position as before, the one with grayed hair led while each one was to his left and right. Erik took note of this, admiring their discipline.

The angel offered his hand to the General. “You are General Myra of the Marching Wolves banner, yes?” He asked in a voice Myra would describe as "grizzly."

“Yes, angel.” Myra accepted, shaking the angels hand. “We thank you for your help.”

“No matter. Tis my duty to slay the Deep.” The angel replied. “I am high angel Seeth.” He introduced himself to the General and Erik. “These be my subordinates.”

The oddity stepped up the the General, just as his leader offering his hand to shake, and had that same smile on his face. “Honor to meet you, ma'am. I be Zeran of the silver tongue.”

Seeth had jabbed the angels arm, urging him to act more serious in this encounter. “Apologies.” Zeran said. “I be Zeran, pupil of high angel Seeth.”

“Better.” Seeth said.

Afterwards the angel that was silent met the General's gaze, and for a moment glanced at Erik. She, just as the others, offered her hand to

shake. “Tis an honor to meet you.” She began. “I be Lain, fellow pupil of high angel Seeth... Tis truly not just an honor, but perhaps somethingof a sinful pleasure to meet you, General. Forgive me, high angel.”

“Forgiven.” Seeth said.

“She's a fan of your work, General.” Zeran said.

“Pardon?” Myra had asked with perplexity, curious as to what Lain said.

“I've read much about you. Your men and women, your wolves. According to text you and the wolves formed a beachhead in a battle off the coast of Gurren. You defeated Abyss spawn in the number of thousands when the number of wolves was only hundreds, with not a single angel and few casualties—impressive—astoundingly.”

The General smiled, and was flattered at the comment. She had figured it out from her tone, the angel may have actually been... Shy, and excited to meet her. Myra had to hold back a light blush on her face at risk of seeming unprofessional.

“I thank you, angel.” Myra said. “But twas not me that defended the coast of Gurren, twas the wolves. The strength of the pack leads us to victory. If you wish to thank me you must thank every wolf here as well... You can start with this one.”

General Myra had placed a hand on Erik's back and pushed him forward, causing him to stumble like a fool—at least in his eyes.

“General!” Erik hissed.

“I see.” Lain spoke to Erik, observing him folly about. “Who be you, boy?”

Erik's mind spiked. He was a man in his late teens and was still being called a boy by others, it irritated him greatly, but thought of it as a signof disrespect and arrogance to become angered at an angel calling him that.

“I am Holy Knight, Erik, also gifted of the title Dark Slayer.” Erik had the urge to offer his hand to shake, yet was of custom and tradition not

to do so when speaking to an angel and being of man. For the angel must first offer their hand to him—Lain made it clear he had to earn it. As her hand stayed right by her hip. To be fair, she was not entirely incorrect for thinking that was. It was not the hardest of task to be a Holy Knight, or Dark Slayer.

“Acknowledged. May your wings fly high.” Lain shifted her attention elsewhere. Erik could tell, she just shrugged him off as quickly as possible.

“Nice to meet you, lad!” Zeran placed a hand on his shoulder. His graspfirm, nearly painful. “As you've heard from my comrades I be Zeran.” Unlike the other angel Zeran offered his hand, Erik accepted.

“Do not be offended by Lain; for her glare is of ice, as is her tongue. Can't help it.” Zeran assured the young Knight. Zeran had fought alongside Lain for years, she's always been this way. Lain crossed her arms and directed that aformetnioned glare of ice to Zeran.

“No offense taken.” Erik replied. Lying when not necessary was a teaching of the Holy Knights—Erik surely sinned.

“The honor is mine, boy.” Seeth had said the cursed word again, but made up for it via that hand shake. Seeth looked into Erik's eyes, deeply. “I see great potential in you—as well as risk.”

Those words, what had they meant? They stuck in Erik like a splinter toflesh, lingered in his mind for a few moments. These words would havecontinued to if not for the loud yelling from the other sides of the camp.

“General!” A feminine voice yelled. “General!”

Myra, Erik, the angels, everyone looked to the side to see Danira and her Night Walkers running towards them. Danira looked at the angels, apart of her was happy, they could surely lighten the impact of the news she was about to let loose on the wolves.

“Praise God.” Danira said, struggling to catch her breath, as well were her Night Walkers.

General Myra walked towards them, as the angels eyed the men and

woman who beared the wolves crest on their leather armor.

“Danira.” The General began. “What is wrong with you?”

Danira continued panting.

“Calm yourself and catch your breath, girl.” Danira ordered in a strict tone.

Danira finally looked up and given her answer.

“There are demon spawn marching towards our position!”

“.....”

“How many?” Myra stayed calm, she had never cracked easily under most situations. Simply choosing to grab the hilt of her large blade sheathed on her back.

“Their forces march of at least... Over a hundred—nay—five hundred! Listen, I don't bloody well know, I did not keep track! But they out number us—greatly! They howl and lust for bloodshed!”

The few wolves that heard this whispered of the new information, causing another stir among the crowds.

“Do not, panic!” Danira sound in loud, harsh, demanding and strict tone, even more so than she had spoken to Danira. “Do you have an estimated time. When did you and your Night Walkers first encounter—”

They, Myra, Erik, the angels and wolves, they all heard it—the marching and laughter. Groans moans and howls. This was not her first time hearing it, this was the battlecry of the spawn of the Abyss. Most of them knew little of stealth, they had no reason to. Their armies vast, strong, neverending. By her count they had approximately five minutes until they reached the base.

“Wolves!” General Myra had the attention of everyone. “Take up arms, battle will soon be upon us!”

_________________________________________________________

Erebus

One Hour Ealier

Light Slayer Erebus walked out of the building with swagger in her step, hands on her waist, swaying her hips side to side. She had done it. The man her fellow servant of their master, could not break gave her allthe information they needed in just about an hour. As said by her the man was strong willed, surely, but obviously had a few demons of his own that laid to rest in his head—Erebus dragged them out. Showed him how bright his light truly was here. Sent the whispers of the Abyss into his ears. With the task done, she looked up to Malice. He was sitting on top of the roof, she knew she had heard something ealier overthe mans scream.

Malice looked at her with curiosity, for a small thought in the back of his head had wondered, not if the man was dead, of course he was, but if Erebus gotten what they needed out of him.

“Please do not tell me that the man is dead?” Malice said, adjusting his glasses as per usual.

“Odd, when did you start caring about the well being of others?” Erebus asked in a playful tone before grabbing something from her pocket. Malice could make it out, a... Human finger. Erebus threw it towards one of the hellish hounds that was stationed outside of the house, eating it in such a hurry that the others barked at the mutt in anger.

“Allow me to rephrase the question; Please do not tell me the man died without relinquishing the information?”

“No need to worry then.” Erebus replied. “Contact our Lord, for I bringnews of human dogs setting up a base in Groven.”

“As expected.” Malice jumped down from the roof, landing without failon his feet to Erebus's side. “I'll begin preparations to summon Roach—”

“You do that.” Erebus interrupted. “I'll be back soon.”

Erebus turned away from Malice, he could tell by her stance, she was beginning to crouch low to the ground and run on all fours, when she traveled her fastest on foot, just below that of a horse. If he did not say a word immediately afterwards she would have bursted off before into the distance.

“What?!” Malice questioned in an annoyed tone. “You are the one that holds the information, what am I to say once we have audience with our Lord? "Hold on, my Lord, for Erebus is out on a stroll!"”

“We both know that the Roach takes approximately five minutes to manifest. I'll be back before then.” Erebus was on the ground, preparingto leave, she did not even turn her head towards him.

“Can you at least tell me where you intend to go?”

“To check on my pet.” Erebus answered. Her last words before she bolted off into the woods west of them.

Erebus speculated that Malice had said something else, but not even herkeen ears could understand what he said, for she was moving far too fast for her to hear. Erebus was confident that Malice would shut his trap, and begin preparations for the contact ritual. Now all she had to dowas retrieve her pet, and put it in a safe place before the battle she knew was about to unfold.

_________________________________________________________

Lara

One Hour Earlier

Twas a cool night for the young girl who eyes were of red and dress was of white, but night nonetheless. She felt rejuvenated as the moon fell and the stars revealed themselves to her. Though she had to admit, this figure was intimidating, scary, but seemingly... Friendly. Or at the very least tolerated her.

For earlier today, when her keeper had left, the tall figure in engulfing black armor saved her from the creatures her keeper had occasionally referred to as "Kobolds." What that meant, she had no idea. All she knew is that three of them hissed at her when she walked away from the figure to relieve herself in the woods. They held axes in their hands,clad in pinkish reptilian skin similar to that of the devil Clause's demon spawn. They had come from a cave several feet away from her, and inched ever closer.

Perhaps... They were peaceful? She walked over to them, wondering if the creatures may take a liking to her, provide her with company until the women returns?

She was wrong.

When she approached one of the creatures snapped at her with their menacing maw of brandished razor-sharp teeth. The girl had fallen to the ground, flustered and fearful of the creatures. She was so frightenedthat she could not stand up. One of the Kobold's held a pickaxe above her head, preparing to slam it through her skull—then the figure came.

The figure dressed in black armor of the toughest of metals, riding a reanimated horse of rotten flesh, yet rode as if it was still alive and perfectly intact. A large sword was slung over the figures shoulder, a black blade similar to that of her keeper, except this one was much, much bigger. It seemingly required two hands to wield, but her savior held it in one with ease. It had a shade of obsidian black across the blade, and the artwork of skulls lining across the lethal weapon.

Her enemies were now just as horrified as she was. Their weapons dropped, backs turned, now fleeing from them—rather—just the figure.Though it did not let them get away. The horse that carried the mysterious character galloped quick, flying past her. With one swing of the blade all three of the Kobolds were dead. Simply gored in two.

With the enemies dead the horse turned back around to her. She wantedto have a smile across her face, and thank her savior. However, while she could not see the face beneath the armor, she could tell it was furious. Still on the horse it tugged her arm, lifted her in the air, and placed her on the back of the horse. Calling her a fool and to be more

cautious around caves, for the Kobolds linger in this area of Groven. Once relatively reclusive, stayed out of the way of the other races, but driven mad by the influence of the Deep.

Afterwards, she grabbed her umbrella, just as she did before to shield her from the sun, and said nothing as the two continued throughout the day and her keeper was away.

The two have been seated on this cliff, away from the destroyed town for hours upon hours. She was only allowed to be as far as the figure could see her, that meant without going into the woods she had about thirty feet of space. He, well, she thought of him as he from the voice, did not speak unless necessary , such as correcting her. But Lara grew hungry. As time went by she became weaker, it had been so long since her last feast of the delicious red water that brought her back to life.

No, animals didn't do it, it didn't satisfy her. She needed the red water of man. Of those who looked like her. He brought her a rabbit, perhaps that would cure her urges? No. Not even close. That was a stick of candy in her eyes. Once she drained the rabbit of blood she threw it off the cliff.

It has been—in truth—she doesn't exactly know how long the woman has been gone. How long she has left her. She just knew that she missed her, so, so much. She was rough, but wasn't every other form of life here? The keeper fed her, kept her warm, changed her dress and bathed her every now and then. Said good morning. Good night. Even snatched her over to her side in order to hold the girl in bed when wanting to rest every now and then. But for now, it seemed that this was her situation.

Growing weary and fatigued, weaker while sitting with her legs crossedand head down with the figure, still sitting on his horse and looking outin the distance.

Until finally, she heard footsteps behind her.

She and figure turned, he grabbed his blade, preparing in case it was an enemy. Though his hand was sent back to the side, and performed a massive shrug after seeing who it truly was.

“You're late.” The figure spoke for the first time in hours. Regardless, she could never forget that deep voice that seemed to have an echo to it.

“Duty calls.” A voice replied.

A flame sprouted from within her. She remembered that voice, hearing it all the time. The same one that told her to "shut up" and yanked on her chain.

Standing upright she saw Erebus, what others called her. She thought ofher as her keeper. A smile that she wanted to form all day came across the girls face, she stood up and began to run towards her.

Though tripped and face planted on the ground due to being so excited that her foot got caught on her own chain, attached to the collar around her neck.

“Stupid little Lara.” The girl had a name. Erebus bended down to grab her chain, pulling it upwards and urging her to stand on two feet. Erebus had placed that collar around her neck, a sign saying that she was her pet. “Up with you.”

Even in pain Lara was still happy. Immediately after standing she wrapped herself around Erebus's leg and nuzzled her head against her like a little pup.

“Someone has missed me.” A small smile formed across Erebus's face as she placed a hand on top of the girl, rubbing it through her dirty brown hair. She looked to her comrade. “I thank you, Black Knight.”

Black Knight, a fellow servant or their master just as Malice was. Morepowerful than all of them though. A trusted General, and possessed a loyalty stronger than nearly every demon they have fought alongside. No flesh lies beneath his armor, a hollow shell—a damn powerful one though.

“Twas an order from our Lord, I would of course follow it without hesitation.” Their lord Erebus knew of, and allowed his creation to keepthe girl she named "Lara" as long as she succeeded, even ordering Black Knight to protect the girl every now and then. “Yet I've no idea why you take a liking to this pet of yours.”

Erebus smirked. “And I've no idea how you talk without a tongue, thinkwithout a brain, see without eyes, breathe without lungs—”

“I do not breathe.” Black Knight interrupted.

“Or move about without a heart. But we do not question many things around here, do we?” Erebus concluded—or would have if she did not remember. “Knight, prepare to leave.”

“Battle?”

“Our Lord shall be contacted soon, I've acquired information from the man filth.”

“Captured today?”

Erebus gave a thumbs up to him.

“Most impressive.” Black Knight admitted. “Shall we leave?”

“Go along, I'll catch up. Though our time fleets, I believe Malice may have already summoned the roach.”

Not a word was said. The Black Knight ran off into the woods to the town of the demons before Erebus could say another word—similar to how she had treated Malice.

“Yes. No "are you sure" or perhaps "I insist we go together."” Erebus thought to herself.

She then lightly pressed the girl away from her, kneeled down, and looked into her eyes. Erebus could tell how long it had been since she had eaten by three things. One; her movements. Two; her attitude. Three; her eyes. They had a sort of obtuse feeling about them, she could tell the girl was hungry.

“You haven't eaten in a while, have you?”

Lara nodded her head side to side.

“Let's fix that.”

Erebus cradled Lara in her arms, holding her like a baby. Then stood

up, and ran through the forest at a slightly slower pace, not being able to run on all fours with Lara in tow. Nuzzling up against her chest, Laraenjoyed the cool air hitting her from the speed. It felt intense, yet relaxing at the same time. Like she was flying. And the best part was she could smell it, the scent of enticing red water man had flowing through their veins, the smell increased, growing at a steady pace. She started to get excited, flailing in Erebus's arms and beginning to moan. For Erebus discovered that she was a nearly mute child, and could not say much of anything understandable.

“You'll get your fill soon, brat.” Erebus said. “Stop moving about like a fish out of water.”

Lara could not help it, she continued to struggle. She had to consume something—had to. Her small fangs grew larger, more sharpened. Erebus could tell she was getting anxious, for Lara was gnawing on the breastplace of her armor. Wanting to bite something. To, quite literally, sink her teeth into her.

“Hold it back, we're nearing the town.” Erebus hissed in an harsh tone.

Finally they had done it. They reached the gate of the town, strange, Erebus must have made a mistake and gone a different way. No matter. Her lord should have been summoned by now—he was not one to wait long.

She had to get to where Malice was, and was in luck when she saw Black Knight as well as the aformentioned hellspawn all the way at the end of the town. However, Lara needed to be fed. If not she would make more and more noises, especially when around corpses. When Lara did that she attracted more attention from the demons that saw her as nothing more than a meal, and kept themselves from attacking her due to Erebus.

It was a straight walkway to her comrades, and a large pile of corpses amassed from the slaughtered townfolk kept just to the left, fifty feet in front of her. But she could feel it, hear it, other demons were there by the pile. This would prove troublesome with Lara around.

“Dammit.” Erebus said in a low tone, then setting Lara down on her

feet. “Child, keep close to me.” Erebus placed a strong grip on her shoulder, knowing that the flesh would cause her to rebel from her commands and run off somewhere.

The two walked down the street in a straight, steady pace. Erebus kept her head forward, though eyes darting at every demon that came into sight at an inhuman pace, and made sure her walk was something of a tightened stance with no openings for Lara to be snatched away.

Two hellhounds walked down the street, they would pass alongside Lara. Erebus heard one growl, shot a deadly glare, and the two whimpered, moving past them quickly. Some of the lesser demons suchas imps played with each other on the rooftops, not paying her or Lara any mind. To Erebus's side on the stairs of a house were two ghouls, in a petty squabble over a piece of bone with a few slivers of flesh attached to it.

Coming down the street this time instead of hellhounds were possessed,Abyss Knights holding a variety of weapons from swords, to axes, to maces in hand. These were of Kira, the slayer devil's brood, not easily intimidated. She quickly walked to the far left of the street, yanking on Lara's chain to do the same. They did so, and luckily the knights payed them no mind. After they had left Erebus and Lara moved towards the far right of the street, for Erebus had reached it.

And cursed again.

In front of her were indeed the corpses, but also something else—Fauste demons.

They are of Clause's brood, the devil of pride. Ravenous, reptilian creatures. The smallest stand six feet tall, the tallest twelve. Sharp claws several inches long, razor sharp teeth, green skin of scales with matching eyes, some even possess the element of lightning to strike down the wielders of the Ascendant. Intelligent as well, speaking the tongue of man and demonic perfectly. They are shock troops, as well asbeing able to perform a variety of other task such as leading demons of lesser intelligence to battle. A group of them, the aforementioned shock troop unit are called "Ravagers." To Erebus, however? They were “Hotshot rookies that get a stiff one knowing they survived a few

battles.” She never cared for them, for just as the devil that spawned them they were arrogant and tiresome. Boasting of their kills as if she cared.

Erebus could not leave Lara alone, not for a second around here. Especially with the noises she was making, now needing to muffle them with her index finger she placed in Lara's mouth. She could feel Lara's fangs sinking into her armor, trying to penetrate it for blood. She went with a risk, simply grabbing one of the corpses from the pile the fauste were taking pleasure in, then getting out before anyone had even noticed her.

She walked fast, nearly into a run. Growing more weary the closer she got to the demons. They were joking about, chewing on the flesh of humans they had slain earlier. One had the corpse of a young woman inbetween their jaws, clamping the flesh and crunching the bone with a loud cracking sound that caught Lara's attention.

“Forward.” Erebus ordered, grabbing the top of her head and making sure she was looking only at the deceased in front of her.

One of the fauste to the right of Erebus had been swinging their green tail back and forth, nearly hitting her. “Watch the tail, buddy!” Erebus said to the demon spawn. The fauste stopped, but did not look at her.

Erebus then quickly grabbed a corpse by the neck, it seemed to be of a young man with red hair, perfect. She held the carcass up, turned around, and had a smirk on her face. However, she made a mistake.

Lara was walking behind her, Erebus was so distracted that their pace was slowed, giving Lara time to look at the fauste. One in particular caught her eye—because it did not have one. This fauste was tall, and one of its eyes had a scar upon it, most likely from the wond of a blade.Despite this, within a few moments it saw Lara perfectly. This fauste just happened to be the leader of this group of Ravagers, he did not treat the girl without notice.

“Girl!” The creature turned its head, speaking in a deep voice. So deep that even Erebus was caught off guard. Her eyes darted open and her body spun to face it. “Why do you cast your gaze upon?!”

Lara did not know what she had done, for demons it's an insult to a stare at them for too long, a challenge—she was in no state to do such, at least not know. A vampire she was, but still in a child's body who hadno control of her powers.

The other fauste turned from their flesh, staring at the girl. Fauste were easily ticked off like children, Erebus knew this. She was also aware that the other demons barely tolerated this pet she had been taking care of for some reason.

Erebus threw the corpse to a building behind her, grabbed Lara by her waist, and dashed to the same building as the fauste ran up to them, baring their fangs.

“Great.” Erebus thought. “This one again.”

She has been dealing with this same fauste for a few weeks now, angering him once by "spoiling" his kill during combat. She assisted him in battle, he took it as a sign of disrespect and viewing him as weak. He had a name as well.

“Hello there, Bal'Tarak.” She called the demon spawn by his name earned through bloodshed. He stood tall, around eleven feet.

Erebus could feel it, they're trying to break her apart from the girl. Circling her, pressing her back against the wall, finding a flaw in her defense. She kept Lara directly behind her, always had a hand on her. Holding her by the collar so that she would not bend down and try to siphon the blood from the corpses neck, making her vulnerable to attack.

Bal'Tarak licked his claws of the remaining blood before speaking. “How long do you plan to keep this flesh around before feeding it to me?”

Bal'Tarak had referred to the girl, tilting his head to look at her.

“Till I grow tired of her. Still, I do not know why you long for this girl, she would be an appetizer for something of your... Build.” Erebus had tried to coat her words with false compliments.

“If you would take a bite out of man once in a while you would have already known that the youngest possess a fine taste. I'd go as far to sayintoxicating.”

“So you say.” Erebus replied.

A low hiss filled the demon spawns next words. “Are you implying me to be a liar?”

“I'm implying that maybe you enjoy feasting upon the young for a reason... Perhaps you cannot prey upon anything more powerful now? Is that the reason, truly? Lost your bluster and bravado after being slashed by the man with an axe?—”

Faster than a human eye could see Bal'Tarak had one of his claws to Erebus's throat, while the sharpened fingertips of her gloves were placed next to his. He did not hiss, no, he growled. Took this as an offense. Erebus's glared into his one, single dark green eye while he didthe same to her gold ones.

“You'd best keep hold of that smart tongue, bitch!” He cursed her name,ready to tear her throat apart in an instant

“Bloody hell.” Erebus said with a wrinkled face, as if she had just takena whiff of rotten milk. “Your breath smells not just of flesh and scum, but piss. Is that one of your kinds practices? I know you to be of Clause's brood, prideful. Does your kind take pleasure in letting themselves go on corpses and consuming them? It make you feel good about yourself? Marking your prey or something akin to such things—”

“Cease and desist!”

That voice interrupted, the voice of the devil Erebus. Black Knight, the Roach in hand with an open palm, still sitting on his horse held the voice of his master.

A few moments afterwards all demons in the area bowed. The fauste. Hellhounds. Ghouls. Imps. Abyss Knights. All of them. Even Erebus herself fell on her knees, not bowed and standing like the others. She did this as a sign of respect for angering her lord. Then noticed that her pet still stood as if nothing was happening.

“Down, girl!” Erebus ordered. Forcibly pressing Lara's body down to the ground as she fell over. Lara was directly on top of the corpse from before. She followed her keepers orders, but put her face in the deceased mans neck to drink the blood. Immediately after her teeth sunk into the flesh she felt renewed. It felt like a drug or alcohol to her, the version of wine for vampires. She continued to drain the blood while her keeper spoke.

“Lord.” Erebus said. “Tis a pleasure, as well as honor.”

“I've no time for formalities, nor are they swaying me.” Erebus replied in that same demonic voice. None, not the Black Knight, nor fauste, none could speak like her master. It made the hearts of many fill with dread. “Malice speaks of you claiming knowledge from the Ascendant.”

“Correct.”

“Elaborate.”

Erebus cleared her throat before speaking. “The man spoke of a settlement of Holy Knights under the Marching Wolves banner. Gifted of Ascendance just as he was.”

“Direction?” Asked Erebus.

“South.” Answered her master.

“Do the humans have the angels in tow?”

“None that he spoke of.”

“How many?”

“Over a hundred strong.”

For a moment Erebus had ceased his questions. Contemplating his next words. Tension was high for her creation, as she was worried in this split second one of the demons would snatch Lara while she kept her head down.

“I assume he gave you a landmark?” Erebus asked.

“But of course.”

“Mind your tone.”

“.... Of course.”

“Where do they rest their heads?”

“Near Groven's great crossing stream by the edge of the land.”

More silence for just a few seconds, Erebus gave his order.

“Listen to my words.” The demons did so. “Erebus. You and the Black Knight shall march with a force of four hundred demons. How far will that walk be?”

“Around thirty minutes, Lord.”

“Sufficient. Malice.” Erebus called to his servant.

“Lord?” Malice answered, bowing beside Black Knight.

“Hold steadfast the town you walk upon while the others cull the Ascendant south of Groven. These are all of your orders. Are we understood?”

Every demon had answered "yes." Those who could not did so in demon tongue. The beast such as hellhounds and ghouls moaned and groaned to showed affirmation.

“Splendid.” Erebus looked to the voice of her master, the roach had begun to fade, as did the voice, if not slowly. “Do not fail me, Erebus.”

“I never have.” She replied.

“Rhaust proves otherwise.” Roach had vanished.

While the other demons scattered to the front of the town, beginning to form their march upon the human dogs, Erebus slammed her fist against the ground. She was reminded of him, Rhaust, that damn demon who took her promotion to the legendary Hunter Killer unit. The most feared among man, and respected among demon. Erebus made one small mistake in combat with him, fighting for the position,

and she lost the duel.

Black Knight and his horse had walked to her side. “I'll gather the first the two hundred under my command. What say you do the same for theothers?”

Erebus nodded her head, not wanting to speak. More demons walked past her as Lara drained the last of blood from the corpse.

“See you at the gate.” The Black Knight walked away, while Malice walked towards Erebus.

“Well then.” He began. “Looks like I'm staying here, doesn't it? Don't get killed out there, lovely.”

“Malice.” Erebus said, now rising from the ground and grabbing Lara's collar.

“Hmm?”

“You'll be taking care of Lara while I am away tonight.”

“Ha!” Malice laughed at her statement. “Fine then. But I'm not one for promises. Don't blame me if you come back to a dead kid—”

Erebus was fed up with the his talking for now. Yanking Lara's chain to the door, she was practically thrown in the house due to the door being unlocked, sure that nothing was in it due to it being her quarters during her time here. She then pushed Malice against the side of the house, and held the blade of her katana to his throat. Malice had fear in his eyes, looking towards the blade just barely scraping across his skin. The blade felt... Burning. Tingling. All because of the energy of the Abyss infused into it.

“Heed my words you four eyed piece of shit!” She began. Her words were oddly deep, like an echo Black Knight had produced. Erebus's eyes became as sharp as her blade. Malice without a doubt pushed her too far. “I am going to go off to battle. When I come back I expect to see my pet perfectly intact—no, sparkling. Give the little brat a bath, she needs a good cleaning. Send her to bed, and tuck her in while you're at it. I will return to the town once the orders from our Lord have

been completed. And I swear to all the six devils of hell if I am to return and this girl has a single scratch on her, I will do worse to you than I did that man while he was begging for deaths embrace. Do you hear me you limp, maggot dick, hellspawn bastard?!”

Malice was at a loss for words, it was extremely rare to see Erebus this way. He knew he could not say nothing, choosing to nod his head.

“Good boy.” Erebus gave a peck of her lips to Malice's cheek while he was still panting, shuddering with fear. Walking away while sheathing her blade. “She bites!” Erebus said.

Erebus gathered her forces. Two hundred demons, undead, and a few hellspawn were now under her word, her command. They stood behind her without movement, waiting for an order. Even the mighty Ravager unit and fauste from before had to follow her regulation. Black Knight stood alongside her with troops of his own behind him. The time had come, to snuff the light from Groven.

“Wait.” Erebus said, placing her hand on her back in a confused, sporadic manner.

“Is something wrong?” Black Knight turned his head towards her.

“... I forgot my bloody cloak!” Erebus left her red cloak, a gift of the heralds of Erebus that is to be worn in battle at the cliff before while passing the time via killing birds with throwing knives. Yet, she heard abark to her side. It was a hellhound holding it, the same cloak in his jaws.

“Ah.” She said. “Thank you, mutt.” Erebus adjusted the cloak on her back. With a cool breeze it flowed with the wind. The demons had exited the town while Malice and Lara watched from the side. The ground beneath shook under their feet.

“Marching Wolves, huh?” Erebus spat. She had fought these same HolyKnights before. They were... A challenge to her. Made her excited “Let's put down some dogs! ”

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End

One Shot done by Korey J. Henson.

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*Short Gag*

Malice: So girl... Do you read? O.o

Lara: *Nods head side to side*

Malice: Joy. -_-+