Demonic Devourer's Development

The paling faces of the guards were a delight. It was good to see that my name still held weight in here, even after my death. But then, death always was of noticeably lesser importance in Hell. I noticed that some didn't believe my claim, but they couldn't deny that I looked like someone strong.

With a gesture, the lieutenant ordered one of his soldiers to report to the Master of Sin. Curious, I sent a mental projection after him.

"Of course, dear guest… please, follow me." The lieutenant bowed. "The Master of Sin won't refuse an audience with you."

Or, more like, the lieutenant had a feeling that if he did, I would take one either way, and he had orders to avoid excessive violence. I hummed. "Go on, then."

Leaving the rest of the guards alone, we walked inside the monumental building. Its corridors were a maze, intentionally built that way. The lieutenant led me in a roundabout route, while the messenger he sent went straight to the ruler of the place. And with him, my projection.

The Master of Sin was enjoying himself in a lavish (by Hell's standards) room, accompanied by a couple of women that looked fresh from the Abyss. One was missing an arm, and another had a bandage over her forehead, but overall, they looked not so bad. They even had clothes—a bare amount of them.

The Master of Sin himself looked like a full-blown demon, old enough that his skin turned red, rough and impenetrable for heat, his hair melted into long porcupine-like needles, and his nails became scorched-black claws.

The three of them were playing a board game of some sort, with game pieces carved out of flamerock. The women flinched and grimaced each time they had to move a piece, and both had blisters on their fingers. Their reactions amused the Master of Sin greatly. So much so that when the messenger arrived in the room and knelt at the entrance, the demon didn't even react at first.

"My lord, there's a guest coming to you, he's being led to the throne hall. He called himself Devourer."

That provoked a reaction. Disbelief, mostly. "Devourer? He got himself killed less than three hundred days ago! Whoever you let enter is an impostor you should throw out before I quarter you and all your squad."

"I'm sorry! But this demon! He looked strong. You told us to let the strong ones enter. He had, uh, uh…"

The Master of Sin finally turned away from his game to hiss at the messenger. "Report fully. What had you seen?"

"He had wings, but not like a bird or a bat. They were like two sheaths of glass, but also shimmered a little and had a form like…" The guard, who didn't even know what to compare them with, as he forgot his mortal life and never saw an insect in Hell, fell silent again, frantically looking around.

"Like an insect's?" The one-armed woman asked. "They were shaped like pointy ovals?"

"Right, right, like pointy ovals! And he had yellow carapace, four arms, claws, ears like a bat and a pair of antennas."

The Master of Sin frowned. He realised that this really sounded just like me—a mix of animal attributes. And it wasn't news in Hell that I changed looks all the time. Even though we didn't meet before—today was the first time I heard about this demon—the Master of Sin heard about me plenty.

"Alright. Call for the Enforcers. I will see this… Devourer."

I didn't catch what Enforcers were, besides the Master of Sin's best hope at dealing with me, should the things go awry. The demon hoped they won't, but one never knew. After all, the previous ruler of Dis also hoped that the things won't go awry when he accepted the Master of Sin's audience, and how did that end?..

What a coincidence, this audience was going to end very similarly.

By the time the lieutenant finally walked me to the throne hall, the Master of Sin had time to not only arrive here but also sprawl himself on the stone throne in a picture of pride and superiority. His Enforcers stood nearby, on guard. All of them were old and powerful demons, something I could tell without having to dip into their thoughts by their demonic adaptations and the way they held himself and their weapons.

Unlike these of the guards, Enforcers had weapons—a spear, a sword, a chain with a spiked ball on end, a scythe—made from metal. On the Fifth Circle metal was a rarity, because you had to mine it on other circles—in here, it was extremely rare.

But when there WAS metal, it rarely was simple iron, either. That one was too dark for iron, almost pitch-black. I couldn't remember its name, though—I never used metal weapons and armour in Hell in the past. There was no point by the time I could get my hands on any.

"The Master of Sin, our merciful lord, greets you, Devourer," the lieutenant said rigidly, bowed, and scurried away.

"Indeed." The ruler of Dis smirked, showing a set of shark-like teeth. "Devourer. Were the rumours of your death greatly exaggerated, or did you already spring back from it?"

I smiled back. In the contest of teeth, his were more impressive, but mine hid a common sense-defying power. "Second. So you are the big shot around here, eh? Well, this is going to change now. You know the drill." I brandished my claws and spread my wings. "The Master of Sin, accept my rule or I will beat you into the ground."

"So it is like that. I wish that, for once, a guest came to me just to chat." The Master of Sin pinched his lips together. "Enforcers, take him down!"

"Sure will," the chain demon grinned at me and began to spin his weapon in the air. "Let's see if he's the real thing, guys!"

"I sure know for myself that I am. Let me prove that to you."