Devil's Apocalypse

"Or maybe I'm just socially awkward?"

Kasdeya couldn't help but constantly replay the previous interaction in her head, especially the end.

"I always thought I was both calm and composed, but maybe that's only in the face of immediate danger?"

Her strange mutterings in the demon tongue didn't go unnoticed, but due to how quietly she was speaking and the fact that many other individuals were also muttering under their breath, though their speech was on the subject of research, all she earnt were a few curious glances by some who wondered what such an existence could be thinking when they beheld the demons below. To them, she was a mysterious and powerful individual of unknown gender, age, and origin, and, even though she was obviously demonic in nature, she clearly had enough wisdom and connections to be allowed to roam freely in this place, so they paid her no mind.

"The only real way to find out if I'm as unshakeable as I think is if I enter any more peaceful interactions with other sapients, though that shouldn't be a problem here." She thought with a quick survey of the room.

Kasdeya rested her arms on the rail lining the edge of the balcony, tapping the metal with a clawed finger as she continued to ponder, though this movement was almost completely obscured by the 'cloak' she wore, so all any onlooker saw was a strange creature leaning forward over the rail then letting out a rhythmic, metallic sound.

"But what if I truly am just innately horrible at stable communication? I have a feeling that not being able to work my way through the intricacies of diplomacy might be problematic… Hmm, I'll have to ponder this problem."

Kasdeya was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed multiple individuals enter the room and immediately start making their way towards her.

-----------------------

"Director! We may have a problem!"

The Director stopped at the entrance to the facility, he was planning on immediately retreating to his personal sector to tend to his own matters, hoping to sneak away before anyone tried to ask for something, as someone always needed something, but to his dismay, his much to competent aid had ambushed him right as he returned.

"You do realise you're paid to fix the problems, not report them, right?"

"I know sir, but I regret to inform you that something outside of my capabilities has appeared."

"How did you even manage to find me, anyway?"

"You told us you were returning today, so I waited here until you arrived."

"Damn you and your competence, you're not paid well enough to be this good at your job."

"Thank you?"

"Wait a minute…" The Director walked towards his aid and moved his face so that they were almost touching, "If you need me to fix something, that means you're having difficulty, which means you're NOT competent!" The Director spun on his wheel and started striding away with a triumphant look.

"Umm."

"Oh I'm so proud of you, only just receiving my orders to lessen your competency and already striving to make improvements!"

"I don't under-"

"WAIT!" The Director froze and spun back to face the aid, "You only just received my order and are ALREADY making improvements… Only someone who's competent would do that!"

"..."

"Are you trying to fool me?"

"We have a bigger pro-"

"To think that I'd almost fallen for your lie! Your scandal! You're not incompetent at all!"

"Director, there is a bigger problem that needs your attention!"

But the Director didn't respond, acting as if the aid didn't even exist as he started walking back down the corridor, heading for his personal quarters while muttering under his breath at a speed that would put rappers to shame, constantly alternating between many different languages and accents, some more ancient then the planet he now stood on, all while the aid tried to interject.

Having almost reached an area which the aid was forbidden from entering, he was starting to panic, desperately needing to get the Director's attention but not willing to risk his life by attacking him, when he spotted a lifeline walk around the corner.

"Oh thank god. Laurence! Please knock some sense into the Director!"

Not a second after the words left his mouth, a cold wind blew through the corridor, followed by a shockwave that threw the aid off his feet.

Glancing back towards the Director, his eyes were greeted with the bone-chilling sight of a young man, his hand extended and his middle finger not a millimeter from the Director's face, but when he focused, the image of a pristine, unblemished but completely normal human hand faded like a mirage into barbaric looking claws glowing with a dark sheen. Six bladed tendrils extended from the man's back in a heartbeat, all shooting towards the Director's seemingly defenceless body with the aim of impaling him, but they too were halted in midair, like they had been grasped by some invisible force.

Then, right before his eyes, the man was shot back into the wall, sending a cascade of fractures through the heavily reinforced structure. The Director raised his hand, the man's body floating into the air, following the motion, and, scrunching his hand into a fist, the man's body followed suit and ripped apart as it was compressed together.

But the aid didn't bat an eye, not even when the lifeless and mangled corpse, worthy of the heaviest of censorships, dropped to the floor, splashing blood over the walls.

The Director relaxed his body, moving his hand back down beside him, and a few seconds later the corpse of the young man started reconstructing itself, healing at an impossible pace as the blood, which the aid swore was red just a second ago, had turned black and was flowing back into him, completely covering his form and when it had completely soaked back into his skin, all traces of injury were gone and instead of a young man, stood a teenage girl.

"You needed something, Laurence?"