Devourer

“You have got to be kidding me.” Beelzebub muttered as she watched the footage. The Titan exploded and from what the footage shows it exploded like one would expect from an Ether Void Furnace overloading.

An Ether Void Furnace was a twisted invention by some of the old Fireborn. Each Ether Void Furnace was irreplaceable since no one could make one. No one could trigger that Void reaction in the furnace, which relied on a degree of magical control out of reach of the younger races. They knew the theory of how to create it but no one knew how to cast the magic. So here they were sitting on these super weapons and trying not to get them destroyed. When one of these furnaces detonate it releases a blast so powerful, it could level a city.

One of those blasts just hit one the Hive’s monstrosities, not only did it not kill it, the fucking thing got back up. It was damaged sure, but honestly, most things would have been vaporised.

Beelzebub had some second thoughts about all of this, but as the old saying goes, “The die is cast.”

“Are you so sure we took the right side now?” Satan growled from his seat next to her.

“More sure than ever as long as I disregard the primal fear in my belly.” Beelzebub said.

“So we are on the side of ruin.” Satan said.

“I thought we were always on the side of ruin?” Beelzebub asked wryly.

“Not like this.” Satan added, and Beelzebub nodded grimly.

Beelzebub leaned back in her chair, her golden eyes glimmering with irritation. “It would seem,” she began, “that we’ve gravely underestimated the Firstborn.”

Satan rested his elbows on his knees, his fiery gaze fixed on the rug.

“Underestimated? We barely comprehended them.” Satan muttered.

“We thought aligning with an Old God would strengthen our position, destabilise the balance of the realms. We sided with the Firstborn because we believed they’d win. But the Firstborn is no mere ally, he is owner come to reclaim what is rightfully his and he has all the power in the world to back it up.” Beelzebub’s said as her lips tightened.

Satan’s voice darkened. “The Firstborn knew what he was doing. They gave us a seat at the table at the cost of unleashing his dark will upon existence. The Hive consumes, and its shadow stretches farther every moment.”

Beelzebub rose abruptly, pacing toward the window. Her silhouette framed the faint glow of the realm beyond as her wings shifted restlessly. “Now, I see how small we are in his design. He didn’t need our help, we just sped things along is all.”

Satan stood, his horns casting jagged shadows. “Then we lean into that design. We chose our side, Beelzebub, and there’s no turning back now. The Firstborn will consume the realms, and we’ll rise in their shadow. If we falter, we’ll be swept away like the rest.”

Beelzebub turned, her expression hardening. “Then we see it through. Whatever remains, we’ve placed our bet on the strongest force in existence. If it means a world in ruin so be it.”

Satan’s voice was cold but resolute. “Better to be a part of the inevitable than to be destroyed by it. We embraced this path because it was the winning one. Now, we commit.”

The room fell silent, the flickering candlelight casting their intertwined shadows against the ancient walls.

I only hope we did not bite off more than we could chew…

No doubt they are scheming as we speak…

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.♚.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“WOOOOO!” I screamed as the party raged. We were in a club in Treachery, and I was taking full advantage of this humanoid body. I downed another bottle of their piss-poor wine as some nearby demons cheered me on.

Stepping inside this place was like plunging into a fever dream of excess. The walls were mirrored obsidian, their surfaces fractured in intricate, purposeful patterns that multiplied the room’s glow. Gold veins ran through the cracks, pulsing faintly as if carrying molten life. Overhead, a massive chandelier hung suspended in midair, its tendrils of molten glass dripping light like liquid fire. The flames within danced to the rhythm of the music, casting sinuous shadows that seemed to writhe across every surface.

At the heart of the space was the dance floor, an expanse of glowing panels that pulsed in time with the music. The floor shimmered with a gradient of hellish reds and purples, each step sending ripples of light coursing outwards like drops of blood in water. The dancers moved with unrestrained abandon.

Above the main floor, elevated platforms framed the space like a theater, each one holding performers who commanded attention. They twisted and spun on poles of gold, their bodies clad in shimmering fabrics that caught every flicker of light. Some danced in pairs, their motions weaving stories of forbidden passion, while others balanced on impossibly thin tightropes that wove between the rafters. Wisps of smoke and fire followed their movements, painting the air with trails of light.

The bar was a testament to infernal design, its long surface a single slab of black crystal that seemed to drink in the room’s glow and radiate it back in subtle, shifting waves. Shelves of exotic bottles lined the wall behind it, their contents glowing like bottled stars, each drink promising an experience as unique as its hue. Bartenders moved with practiced motions, their every action precise and experienced, flames and mist flickering from their hands as they mixed elixirs.

Even the ceiling was a spectacle. It stretched high above, an endless void speckled with constellations of ember-like lights that shifted and swirled as if alive. Occasional bursts of flame erupted and then dissolved into swirling smoke, casting brief flashes of brilliance that illuminated the crowd below. Around the edges of the room, plush velvet lounges in shades of crimson and black created intimate nooks, draped in gold-threaded curtains that sparkled like liquid starlight.

As I was about to reach for another drink a scantily dressed Succubus put herself on my lap as she licked her lips.

“Why not me and you go have some fun.” she said as she shifted her body slighly giving me a good view of her curves.

Now, imagine if I turned off my illusion right now; that would be fun. Ah the screaming that would ensue, it beast any music.

“Out.” a curt voice said as Rosa and the Crowfather entered the booth. They were both disguised as demons and Serchax followed in shortly after them with Regari in tow.

The other demons took one look at Rosa and looked like they wanted to argue. They glanced at the Crowfather and ignored him. Then they looked at Serchax as she smiled at them like they were delicious piece of meat. Fear kicked in, and they all fell over themselves trying to leave. Regari was knocked out of the booth in the mad scramble and he ended up tumbling down the short slight of stairs leading up to the booth.

“You alright?” the Crowfather asked as stuck his head out the booth.

“I’m fine.” Regari groaned as he got up and clambered back up the stairs.

“Now then what do we hear?” I asked with a grin.

“Fear, lots of it. People here are acting like it’s their last night on earth.” the Crowfather said.

“For many of them it might as well be. The drafts are calling up, millions sent to die against the hive.” Serchax said with a grin.

I glanced again at the spell wall surrounding us, with the Crowfather casting the magic, nothing was leaking out.

As for what is happening out there well it was quite the parody. Tomorrow the drafts are in and more would be sent to die. So tonight they were using whatever they had to get any shred of pleasure they could.

At the bar, hands slammed down crumpled bills and empty wallets. Drinks disappeared as fast as they were poured. No one cared about the cost. What was debt to the damned? A man laughed too loudly as he ordered another round he couldn’t afford, while a woman beside him drained a bottle of liquid fire, her hands shaking. The crowd’s pockets, already thin, emptied onto the bar without hesitation, the piles of crumpled money disappearing into the till like a black hole devouring light.

The lounges, draped in velvet and glimmering with gold-threaded cushions, told the same story. Guests lounged with an air of forced nonchalance, their laughter just a little too loud, their movements a touch too exaggerated. Some leaned close to whisper secrets or promises, their voices urgent, their gazes flickering with fear. Others sprawled out, clutching goblets of shimmering liquid they couldn’t afford, draining them in desperate gulps. A man in a worn suit reached for another round, his fingers shaking as he counted out the last of his savings, while a woman beside him clinked her jeweled goblet against his, murmuring, “Drink like it’s your last. It might be.”

Word had gotten out that a great Titan was felled and the beast that felled it took its Ether Furnace reactor blast and got back up. The age of the Ancients had returned, bringing with it a an old forgotten horror, a vast, unyielding swarm that ravaged the Searing Hells. If the demons were sin then an ancient hive was something far older. The hive was hunger made manifest.

The Lords of Hell, once untouchable in their power, now cowered beneath its shadow. Their armies, once mighty, were crushed effortlessly beneath the Hive's relentless march. Desperation was growing among the rulers of Hell and of its denizens, their fears creeping out of every dark corner.

“Many are talking of fleeing. And from what I hear the enforces are deserting as well. Better to live as some fugitive rat than to become food for the Hive.” Rosa said.

“From what I see they are already fleeing, cohesion is breaking down.” I said as I noted the intel from my hive.

“So when is your contact going to be here?” Rosa asked.

“He’s here already. Just needs the right excuse to come in here.” I said as I glanced at the man in the worn suit.

He was holding the last bottle in his hand and he had been just chased away from the bar since he very obviously was drunk and out of coin.

I watched as he stumbled left and right until he finally seemingly fell into my booth. As soon as he dropped past the curtains he stood up abit shakily before downing a potion. In a few seconds his eyes went from groggy to razor sharp.

“Rather dramatic don’t you think?” I asked, and the demon just shrugged.

“Lady Beelzebub is not available for this chat, her presence in Treachery would draw too much suspicion.” the demon said as he took a seat.

“And how will we talk?” I asked and the demon just held up a hand before going silent.

Then his body lurched and spasmed, it lasted but a moment but soon the demon was reclining into the chair with a very feminine demeanour. Ah so possesion then, why come down here when you can borrow someone else’s flesh.

“I apologise for the look, but it is difficult for me to attend in person.” the demon said, his tone of voice completely changing.

“So what is it you wanted to discuss?” I asked and Beelzebub paused for a moment.

“Do you feel you can move on from Treachery? The balance of power is shifting, your Hive is destroying vast swathes of the local armies. Once you seize control you will have the rings in a stranglehold. Without Infernis, they will not be able to wage war effectively for long, put enough pressure on them most of the Daemon Princes will fold.

However, we are all convening to meet on a desperate option.” Beelzebub said.

“Desperate option?” the Crowfather asked.

“They are talking of releasing Magne Morningstar from her prison.” Beelzebub said.

“What’s wrong with that? She would be useful, another ancient on my side is definitely a plus. If she turned out to be hostile I could just eat her.” I replied and I saw complicated expression cross her face.

“Morningstar would not take kindly to our betrayal, I was hoping we could forgo that step.” Beelzebub said.

“And why would I forgo that step when I have so much to gain? The Prime Evil of the Searing Hells would be a valueable weapon against the forces of heaven.

“Indeed she would be but, her rage would also diminish the Searing Hells, her purges would destroy many useful servants. You yourself are already powerful do you truly need another ancient? We are more numerous and having more of us to manage your domain would be more useful. The angels have atrophied just like us, they are not the same race that wiped the Firstborn from this world. The Light Born are dead, there is nothing that can save them now.” Beelzebub said.

“How are you so sure the Light Born are gone?” the Crowfather asked, and I agreed. The Serpahim were a sneaky lot so I wouldn’t be surprised if they hid some of their trump cards.

“Alright, how about this.” I said as I prepared to lay my little lie on the table. If I said no, they might work against me. But if I said yes they would be suspicious…

Prove to me that you are more useful than Magne Morningstar…

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