Demonic Devourer's Development

The hardest part of that investigation was explaining to the demons God of Rogues met what chaos beasts even were. To his frustration, he found that, despite the razor-sharp instincts the demons that lasted any prolonged period there developed, most of them very were deaf when it came to picking up on chaotic auras.

For many of them, the beasts were just ugly. But yes, the beasts. After asking so much, that at some point God of Rogues (to his annoyance, because he tried to be not too open about his search) found demons eager to greet him and answer his questions even before he introduced himself with violence.

Beasts, yes—there turned out to be more than one. There were several descriptions, and none of the beasts was like other. Each was completely unique, and while witnesses could be off in some aspects, no one could mix up creatures that different.

Finally, God of Rogues found a lead that seemed more promising—or interesting, at least—than these to the brutes he talked with until then. A tale of a demon sage—something that sounded outlandish from the setup, but God of Rogues could discern a truth from a lie, and at the very least, the storyteller believed his words.

According to them, there was a demon that achieved great power through rigorous training and meticulous perfection of body and mind. Then, instead of using it to grab as much as they could—which was what any other demon would do—he went into exile, disappearing from the face of the world somewhere in the Fifth Circle of Hell, amongst the Flamerock Planes.

The demon, according to the storyteller, was completely senile just because he didn't use the power he had for personal gain, but being a touched one, he also had "strange wisdom". What he knew, no one was sure, but more than an average demon, at least. God of Rogues knew some mortals that were born or turned by life that way. Their minds didn't work the same way these of normal people did, which indeed would lead them to unexpected, but wise thoughts.

Most of the time, they were just mad.

God of Rogues didn't know what to expect when he went to seek the sage, except that it would be something different from the other demons… which, it had to be said, almost all were mad to some degree.

Searching for the demon sage took time again. To save some of it, God of Rogues had to employ several locals to help him comb the burning wasteland. At least it was empty—that meant that there were no distractions, nothing to confuse the searchers.

The demon whose descriptions fit with that of the demon sage was sitting on the ground with crossed legs and closed eyes. When God of Rogues approached, the demon didn't react at all, and if the god couldn't hear the creature's heartbeat, he'd swear he was just a dead, dried mummy.

"Hey. Hey! Do you hear me, demon?" God of Rogues snapped his fingers in front of him.

That worked. The dried demon opened his eyes, though that was the extent of his movements. Even when he spoke, his lips were the only thing to move in his body. "Yes, I do. Thank you for asking."

God of Rogues pursed his lips. Yes, this demon did seem senile. Yet, God of Rogues could recognise that he survived where he had no reasons to. The flaming wasteland had nothing but heat—no food, no water, nothing. Even predators avoided it. And here was that guy… Dried, with the voice hoarser than sandpaper, but definitely alive.

It was worth trying to ask, especially after all the effort to find him.

"Demon, do you know what chaos beasts are?"

The demon sage blinked. That took him several seconds. "Chaos… Here, so many are drowned in it. They could find peace at any moment, but choose to suffer instead—isn't that the most chaotic thing you can do? To oppose yourself, only to suffer? And beasts. We are all them. Do we not?"

"That's not what I meant." God of Rogues tsked. "Let's try again. Do you know anything about creatures that look like a random pile of parts, and even if they don't, they exude an aura of wrongness around them? Aura of chaos?"

"These… yes. Their existence wounds me deeply. How come that from a realm of boundless possibilities come only the worst possible things? How come our Radiant Lord allows it? Are we His beloved children, or are we merely dolls of clay, shaped as a joke, thrown away and forgotten? Would He mourn the clay world He made after it cracks and breaks?"

God of Rogues frowned, wondering why this demon that looked like a talking statue was so wordy. And what Radiant Lord he spoke about. God of Paladins? No, he didn't create the world. That left only one being, but mortals didn't worship him for many, many centuries. Almost since the beginning of the world…

How old was that demon, God of Rogues suddenly wondered?

"Listen… these beasts shouldn't be in our world in the first place. And I've seen one just roaming around Hell. Do you know anything about this? About chaos rifts that opened in the last century or so?" That was God of Rogues' best approximation. Chaos beasts didn't last longer than that, though Hell seemed to be good on them.

The demon sage blinked with painstaking slowness again. "Yes. Nobody asks. I simply wait for the end to come—end of all existence—but they keep living their lives, die, forget, and live again. They think it would go on forever. It won't, but illusions are the thing that makes us happy, and why shouldn't we be happy? Though… I wouldn't want to make you unhappy with the truth."

"I will be fine, demon." God of Rogues snorted. "Trust me."

"Alright. I will tell you then, if this makes you feel better. You had a choice…"