Undeath and Rebirth

The entire castle went deathly still when Alma unveiled the unknown assailant. The Baobhan Sith, along with every member of the Black Rose, stood petrified and perplexed by the smug, grinning face of Oona Ewe. Except, there were notable differences between the dream shamaness and this eerie alternative creature.

For one, she was more of a satyress than a faun, having a longer snout and ears. Four pairs of horns were crowning her head, the first drawn back while the second curved into a loop. Her mystical white hair was more rugged than wool. Oona’s azure complexion had darkened to near ebony. Gone were the warm honey-brown eyes, instead housing moderate red pupils that gave her a distinct resemblance to the father of monsters. A third closed eyelid rested between her collarbone and bosom.

Lastly, underneath the caprine cultist’s robes was a form-fitting black gown and gloves, the skirt and sleeves embedded with thorny fur that twinkled like stars. Even without the pregnant tummy, she seemed slightly less pudgy while boasting her ample curves and bountiful breasts.

Refusing to believe what her eyes told her, Alma broke the silence by demanding, “W-What kind ov sorcery is this? Who are ye?! Why do ye look like Oona Ewe?!?”

“Oona?” The black goat woman tilted her head curiously. “Ahh! Ah believe ye are referrin' tae mah other self.”

“‘Other self’? Sae ye claim tae be from a different reality ov sorts?”

“Not entirely unheard of,” said Esmeralda. “I believe Beatrix mentioned wanting two versions of Cerise to meet!”

“Regardless, it’s certainly clear this isn’t the Oona we held prisoner,” noted Camellia, her crimson eyes narrowed behind her porcelain mask.

“Aye. Be careful, Alma,” advised Douglas, hand clutching his cutlass tightly. “Ah feel a strange presence as if we’re all deep beneath th' sea!”

Indeed, Alma, too, sensed an immense pressure weighing down her shoulders from just being close to the doppelgänger, as if gravity was on the verge of collapsing. Her nostrils flared when inhaling ‘Oona’s scent, detecting the reek of eldritch magic. Worse, the stone walls and furniture trembled and shook violently, signifying the beast disguised as the castle was once again afraid.

But the auburn-haired vampiress wouldn’t be deterred, strengthening her clutch on the caprine’s neck. “Tae think cowards now make up mah legion’s ranks! Are ye tae tell me that ye’re honestly afraid ov this measly old goat?! Pha! A'm not sae easily intimidated!”

A playful titter slid out of Oona’s throat. “Ye will be,” she crooned with a layered voice, sounding both soothing and husky simultaneously. “Ye don’t grasp how out ov depth ye are here. Let me… enlighten ye~!”

Her eyes widened, with the third in her chest snapping open, revealing a hellish horizontal pupil. The yellowish white of her eyes turned to the darkness that poured down her sockets like tears. The entire plane glitched with digital bolts of distortion, causing everyone within the room to stumble. The whole castle was quaffed with a pitch-black hue as a storm manifested overhead.

An invisible force propelled Alma backward, throwing her into Esmeralda and Camellia. Sounds of loud braying, monstrous growls, and cackling bleats suddenly flooded their eardrums, which they covered in a vain attempt to drown out the horrid noises. Douglas managed to peer outside a nearby window, only to see an enormous hooded leg stamp the ground, followed by five equally heavy thumps.

Alma’s vision remained fixated on the caprine entity, who arched her back when thorny tendrils sprouted from her bare shoulders. A licentious groan rolled out the back of her throat when said tentacles wriggled around her arms and supple shapeliness.

All at once, the violent squall swirling around the terrified Glamorguis gradually slowed down to a crawl as the enigmatic sorceress gently floated down to her feet. The inky blackness lifted from her eyes, her smile stretching her snout. Ancient sigils and symbols blinked around her as she approached the legion with swaying hips.

“Wettin' yerself yet~?”

Alma rose with bared teeth, conjuring her sanguine blade. “Don’t make me laugh! Ye’ve got nothin' but smoke an' noise. It doesn’t matter how powerful ye are; A'll still have yer heart! Ah won’t ever falter befur an'ther egocentric upstart. Especially one who wears Oona’s face! Night creatures, answer mah call!”

Howls and screeches filled the chamber as hellhounds, gargoyles, and bats scurried to their mistress’ aid, though they wore anxious expressions. Her followers were equally reluctant to fight but flanked the Baobhan Sith’s sides and took up stances.

‘Oona’ gave a mocking pout. “Oh mah! Sae many monsters against wee old me? That hardly seems fair~.”

“Fair is for the weak and foolhardy,” proclaimed Camellia, her lengthy hair waving around her busty figure. “We won’t be humiliated again!”

“Yeah, enough bark! Show us your bite!” Esmeralda snapped, loading a bolt into her crossbow.

“Well, if ye insist!”

With a twirl of her skull-infused bident, the black satyress unleashed ethereal vines that lashed out, ensnaring every stone sentinel and instantly crushing them into rocky debris.

When the bat monsters soared down, she summoned black bubbles from the ground that enveloped the colony. She then uttered, “Sleep.”

The bubble popped, and the unconscious flock plummeted with splats.

The Vice Lord growled and directed her pack, “Rip her intae shreds!!”

But the caprine woman batted away the pouncing hellhounds with her tentacles, twisting their necks and snapping their spines in half as each canine dropped with dying whimpers. One hellhound even met a far more gruesome end when one tendril formed a toothy slime-filled maw and consumed the dog whole.

The vampire couple recoiled and clutched their necks, watching the animal struggle feebly before the tentacle constricted to push it down through the tube. ‘Oona’ patted her belly and ran a tongue over her lips.

“Mmm! Doggy chowder~!”

Infuriated, Alma rushed at the doppelgänger with blinding speed, blade clashing against the ram-headed staff. Camellia, Esmeralda, and Douglas followed suit, trying to handicap the eldritch sorceress by attacking her on all fronts.

‘Oona’ repelled the legion of black roses with unseen force, providing enough time to channel a spell before they lunged for her again. She stamped her bident, and darkness fissured through the floor to unleash a wave of snarling vines and tendrils, knocking her foes into the castle walls and furniture.

“Seems ye didn’t learn yer lesson wit th' Mother ov Demons,” taunted the satyress.

But as she pulled herself back up, Alma had a victorious grin on her lips. “An' clearly, ye haven’t learned not tae underestimate yer opponents! Look at yer hand, fool!”

The cultist arched an eyebrow before realizing she was bleeding out; a thin line sliced across her palm.

The Baobhan Sith cackled while holding up her sanguine blade, stained with her foe’s blood. Crimson wisps wafted from the steel as its power began to take effect. “Yer defeat was decided the moment Ah could draw a single drop ov blood from ye!”

“Y-yes! Well done, Mistress!” Esmeralda praised with a cocky smirk.

“Quickly! Drink her essence an' finish her off,” urged Douglas.

“Make her regret opposing us!” Added Camellia sharply.

But their confidence was challenged by elated laughter as ‘Oona’ warned, “Ah wouldn’t do that if Ah were. Not unless ye want mah Darkyung growin' inside ye~.”

“Dark-what?!”

Before Alma could comprehend what she meant, the caprine’s blood unfurled with stringy coils before rapidly expanding from the sanguine blade. The amorphous substance then weaved together to form the shape of a massive tree-shaped caprine monster on three stumpy hooves. Ropey tentacles protruded from its back, acting like swaying branches. Many mouths opened and closed around its bark-like body, one of which was enormous and bared tusks.

The countess gasped and tried to pry her sword out of the bulky abomination. The Darkyung bellowed in response and ensnared Alma into its arms, groping and tugging her body in different directions.

“Naaaugh!! Let go ov me,” she strained, her limbs overstretched as they threatened to rend. “Ack! S-Somebody stop her!!”

But the vampires were too terrified to approach the gargantuan goat creature, cradling one another, overcome by a primordial terror. “What the devil is that?!” Esmeralda whimpered.

“The ugliest fuckin' thing A’ve ever seen,” Douglas answered with distress.

“Not as ‘fugly’ as ye’re about tae be,” said the ebony doe, who flung more blood splotches from her wounded palm, which rapidly grew to become three eyeless caprine creatures, sporting ample assets and similar tentacles whipping about from their backs.

The newly made monsters dispatched the rest of the legion, apprehending Camellia, Esmeralda, and Douglas before they could use their abilities to defend themselves.

The Darkyung brought forth their struggling captives before the eldritch caprine, the oversized monstrosity tossing Alma to the floor, landing a few centimeters from her feet. When the shaken vampiric faerie lifted her head, her wry gaze met Oona’s lookalike, who leered down at her.

“An' that was but a mere fraction ov what A’m capable ov,” the dark satyress boasted, a smirk lifting one side of her cheek. “Unless ye’re still unconvinced?”

“N-no… no more,” wept Alma, her fragile pride again shattered before her fellow vampires and Vice Lord. Her head hung low as she admitted, “Ye’re power dwarfs all ov us combined. Ah yield…”

‘Oona’ shook her head and tsked. “Stubborn lil' babe. Ye could have prevented an'ther pathetic loss had ye not acted sae rashly. An' ye still wonder why Bellatrix ne'er caved tae yer whims.”

The Vice Lord tensed at the mention of the succubus’ name. “H-How do yae know about…” Raising her head once more, she demanded, “Who—What are ye?!”

The ebony goat woman placed a delicate finger beneath Alma’s chin, guiding her to stand up while her thorny tendrils enclosed around them, squishing their plush curves and ample breasts together. Her face was flustered when she traced her cheek.

“Ah am th' physical incarnation ov th' All-Mother,” the creature answered, the bass of her layered voice reverberating throughout the room. “Th' Goddess ov Progeny. Th' Ebony Goat ov th' Woods wit a Thousand Young. Ah… am Shub’Niggurath~!”

“Sh-Shub’Niggurath?!” Alma yelped as her head forcibly turned so the goat woman could run her elongated tongue up and down her pale cheek. Her body shuddered when the caprine stuck her slick appendage into her ear.

“The fertility goddess from beyond space and time?” asked Camellia.

“No way,” said Esmeralda. “I thought the great old ones were just fables to scare bigots and heretics!”

“An' yet, here Ah stand, flesh an' blood,” the self-proclaimed deity rebutted, ceasing her lecherous licking.

“But why does an ancient goddess possess a mortal body?” Questioned the kelpie.

“That’s none ov yer concern,” dismissed Shub’Niggurath. “An' Ah would rather ye refrain from usin' that name. It carries racial undertones that Ah do not appreciate.”

Alma curled an eyebrow amidst her squirming. “An' what might we call ye..?”

“From this point onward, ye will address me as Lady She’ba,” announced the eldritch sorceress, a broad smile on her features. “A much more sensible title that commands elegance an' respect.”

The vampiric faerie managed to wriggle out of her molester’s hold and gain some distance. “Very well then. Why have ye come here, ‘Lady She’ba’? What do ye want wit us?”

“Only tae share mah power wit ye,” she responded while casually checking her nails.

“Huh? Wha-Why?!”

“Think ov it as a trifle,” She’ba began strutting closer with a hand on her hip. “A token ov goodwill between th' Legion ov Black Roses an' th' Cult ov th' Nemesis.”

“You mean that fallen order ov zealots that once sought Beatrix Belladonna as their dark messiah?”

“Th' very same. Except now, they have someone worthy ov their devotion~,” she confirmed with a giggle. “An' in exchange fur yer compliance, Ah shall bless ye wit unfathomable power. Ov course, this means dissolvin' yer alliance wit th' Sovereign Witch.”

“But she is our strongest ally,” debated the Baobhan Sith. “An army ov paladins an' mages are sailin' across th' oceans as we speak! We made a pack tae conquer an' divide Equestria!”

“Ugh! This is why yer order falls short, Alma,” scoffed the ebony satyress, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ye’re not considerin' th' bigger picture here! Yes, workin' wit Tatyana can give ye a chance tae fulfill yer conquest. A sliver, Ah might add. But workin' wit me grants ye a guarantee that ye’ll triumph over yer foes. As well as take revenge on those who’ve wronged ye. An' sae much more~.”

Esmeralda snorted. “And all we have to do is pledge our loyalties and faith in you? Ha! Get real!”

“You are undeniably powerful, Lady She’ba,” admitted Camellia. “But we have already sworn ourselves to our mistress.”

“An' look where that’s gotten ye,” the eldritch doe pointed out, waving a hand to highlight the dilapidated interior and drained carcasses littering the floors. “Yer night creatures are dead; yer fortress is so easily breached, all yer prisoners are gone—Ah doubt th' mighty Glamorguis will even obey ye after all ye’ve put it through.”

She’ba directed her narrow gaze on Alma, who couldn’t even muster a compelling argument against these facts. “Face it, Alma. Ye were ne'er in control. How could you be? Ye’re no better than a leech. A feeble parasite that has tae feed off others tae sustain its miserable existence!”

She then gently touched the vampiress’ shoulder, feeling her jump. Leaning her face close, She’ba whispered in a silky tone that sent tiny shivers up her spine. “But it doesn't have tae be like this. Ah can bring yer heart what it longs for. Give into me, love unto me, an' you will live deliciously~.”

“Oi! Don’t listen tae that hogwash, Alma,” butted in Douglas. “For all we know, th' second we’ve accepted her offer, we’ll fall under her spell! An' after th' time A’ve spent servin' th' Burning King, Ah ain’t goin' back tae bein' some monster cunt’s mule!”

The Darkyung confining him brayed ferociously but paused when the dark satyress held up her hand and approached the water demon with a thoughtful smile.

“That’s rich, considerin' yer history wit women, lecher,” proclaimed Lady She’ba. “Matter ov fact, ye’ve allowed women tae rule yer entire life! It’s why ye became a pirate, no? Tae escape yer controllin' mother an' sister when daddy left town~?”

The kelpie scowled. “Shut yer cock hole! Ye know nothin'!”

“Don’t Ah? Given yer animosity towards any female who crosses yer way, it’s not that hard tae imagine. Ye could steal an' plunder all the treasures an' wonders, yet no woman tae hold or look past th' horrid monster tae see th' lonely man ye truly are. An' then, when ye heard th' sea’s calling, ye took th' eternal plunge tae th' depths, where yer heinousness an' anguish forever changed ye intae the dreaded kelpie ye are today.”

Douglas allowed only a salty tear to leak down his cheek; teeth clenched tightly as his awful history brought forth.

“That… makes a lot of sense,” admitted Camellia. “No wonder you’re so depraved!”

“A murky mirror of our grievance towards men,” surmised Esmeralda with a twirl of her white skirt.

“… In th' end, only th' sea herself e'er welcomed me,” he lamented bitterly.

“Ye honestly thought working wit Alma or Tatyana could change that?” She’ba chortled. “Pitiful man. Luckily, Ah see some potential wit you, layin' dormant inside yer black heart~.” She ran a hand across his barreled chest, even petting some slimy leeches with a finger.

“R-really?”

“Mhm. Let me sweeten th' deal fur ye.” Her Darkyung released the male Vice Lord next to the auburn-haired seductress, whom the Lord of the Woods addressed. “Revoke yer allegiance tae Canterlot, become part ov mah progeny, an' not only will ye receive mah most… mmm, bountiful blessing~” She empathized with a growling moan while fondling her massive tits before releasing them with a bounce. “… Ah will free ye from th' terrible curse placed by those awful high lords. That’s what ye want. Tae no longer be th' Baobhan Sith? Tae be a faerie again?”

“Tae be free,” whispered Alma, eyes lit up when she dared to hope.

“Don’t do it, mistress!” Camellia warned with a snarl behind her porcelain, bloody-tear-stained white mask. “You mustn’t trust her! I’ve heard horrific tales about the Black Goat of the Woods!”

“As have I!” Esmeralda yelled, whose face paled further while wrestling with the Darkyung pinning her arms behind her. “Shub’Niggurath isn’t your average monster, just seeking to supplant itself through tribes and attachments! She is so abstract and incomprehensible to the mortal mind. All who become tethered to her are driven mad and have their minds warped!”

“Warped? Or made better~?” Lady She’ba tittered. “Still, th' choice is ultimately yers tae make. If ye wish tae remain weak an' powerless, that’s fine! No hard feelin''s; A’ll be on mah way… Oh! Ah almost forgot one other thing.”

She bent forward towards Alma, her breasts swinging between her arms. “Mah sources tell me Bellatrix Primadonna will participate in th' War ov Walpurgisnacht~.”

The vampiric faerie’s eyes widened a hint of color in her cheeks. “B-Bella?! She’ll be there?”

“No!” Esmeralda and Camilla cried out. “Don’t listen to her!!”

The ebony satyress ignored their protests and continued. “An' she’ll be far stronger, thanks tae th' guidance ov that trashy imitator, Lilith. She’s on her way tae becomin' Queen ov Hell. With how ye are now, Ah severely doubt ye’ll e'er get th' chance tae reclaim her as yer slave.”

Alma’s brows furrowed as she spent a moment mulling it over. Like the other Vice Lords that survived, she’d barely escaped servitude under the Burning King. Not to mention her stint as a prisoner under Bellatrix, when the succubus had foolishly decided she could convert her to her side as a lover.

She’d been flattered. Until the she-devil had betrayed her to aid in Oona’s escape. Nonetheless, when she surveyed her followers, she saw their faces still warred at her decision dubiously. Even the castle groaned as if to voice its concerns about trusting this sinister version of Oona.

Alma strengthened her fist as she made up her mind. “Ye’ve all sworn allegiance tae me. Promised tae obey mah commands. That includes ye, Douglas. Or will ye turn tail from me now?”

The kelpie grimly shook his head, a part of him equally intrigued by the promises the eldritch fertility goddess offered.

Turning to the interloper, she declared, “Very well. Ye claim ye can rid me ov this unbearable curse an' make me more powerful? Prove it!”

“Mistress, no!!”

The goat woman’s smile stretched uncannily wide. “Sae we have a bargain, then~?”

Alma bit her lip before replying, “We do.”

“Excellent!”

Clasping her hands together, Lady She’ba closed her prominent eyes while her third reopened. She sang an incantation through a tongue so unheard of that it sounded like complete gibberish to a layman’s ear. The ground quaked under immense pressure as a ghost circle formed around the entire room, black light gleaming out the archaic markings and symbols.

Alma squinted, arm shielding her face until her eyes could adjust. “What is this for?”

“Tae secure our bond, Ah invoked an old ritual,” answered the Ebony Goat of the Woods. “One, Ah think, ye an' yer legion will find most enjoyable~.”

Her tendrils delicately tugged the top of her gown off the slopes of her massive mammaries, each tit wobbling free. Then she bent forward to slide her dress down her wise child-bearing hips, giving her plump ass an enticing wiggling until the fabric cascaded down her legs.

Everyone couldn’t help gawking over the naked form of Lady She’ba, who proudly displayed her curvature with smoldering eyes. Seeing the ordinarily modest Oona Ewe reveal herself provocatively was bewildering, just as it was arousing.

“Davy Jones below, A’ve always wanted tae plow that phat ass ov hers,” Douglas confessed, not even bothering to hide the bulge formed in his trousers.

“Ooh~? Well, now’s yer chance. Fur this pagan ritual requires two things,” the ebony satyress cooed while running her hands up her pudgy belly until they brushed her heavy udders, pinching her inverted nipples until a milky white substance dribbled out.

“First is mother’s milk, which ye will drink tae empower yerselves,” she explained. “Then comes fornication, either wit myself or mah brood. They, too, have needs an' will help me draw strength from th' throes ov pleasure ye shall undoubtedly achieve!”

Camellia’s sneer depended on when the Darkyung gave goatish cackles. “You would have us lay with these wretched, grotesque abominations?!”

“They’re all female if that helps~,” the fiendish goat snickered.

Esmeralda shuddered with disgust and mumbled, “Now I know how Bellatrix felt...”

“Never fancied me a goat-fucker,” chortled Douglas, whose leer hardened on the mountainous breasts, lapping his jaw. “Ye, however… A’ll make an exception if it means Ah get a taste ov that saucy minx Oona!”

“Do not confuse th' dream faun wit this salacious satyr,” advised Alma, disdain written on her face. “They are polar opposites..!”

The water demon shrugged. “She has her face, arse n’ tits. That’s all that matters. Now, where are we doin' this? Here? Th' dining hall, perhaps? There aren’t any woods 'round here.”

“Ah can take care ov that,” muttered the blood countess, who mentally communed with her castle, and the eldritch beast shuddered when one of the unused sections transmuted into a thick, pitch-black wilderness.

Was she really about to do this? Her eyes flickered to the grinning goat woman, who gingerly petted the massive tree-like monstrosity she had conjured earlier.

Swallowing her remaining doubt, Alma pulled off the straps of her dress, the green silky cloth slipping down her voluptuous form. She strode out once it draped past her ankles and freed her chimeric flesh to the cool caress of the castle’s draft.

Her curtain-length auburn hair flowed behind her when she walked fully nude into the forest, followed by her closest lieutenants, who more reluctantly bared themselves in the presence of the caprine-shaped monsters. By contrast, Douglas quickly rid himself of his confines, eager to get his hands on the eldritch fertility goddess, who immediately felt at home in the dreary woodlands.

“Ahh~! It’s almost like bein' back home,” Lady She’ba mused, caressing and rubbing her shoulders. She then settled her wooly butt onto the dirt within the ceremonial circle, parted her thighs, and beckoned to Douglas. “Ye’re certainly eager. Why don’t ye drink from me first~?”

“Thought ye’d never ask,” chortled the kelpie, a smug grin spreading his snout as he settled before the ebony satyress, erecting stallionhood in hand. “How’s 'bout a lil’ spit n' shine tae start us off~?”

“Ugh! Way to prove her point, genius,” the petite monster hunter chastised. Her disgust doubled as she watched She’ba willingly comply and layer his cock with wet, sloppy kisses, bathing the flared tip with her tongue while her hands kneaded his heavy sperm banks.

However, her attention returned to Camellia when the goat-shaped monster got rowdy, harshly groping one of her pendulous pale tits while its other hand grabbed her pussy.

“A-At least slow down,” the masked vampiress hissed, trying to stifle her unwanted pleasure. It didn’t help that the eldritch spawn’s tendrils restrained her arms behind her back. “H-Hey, stop! This is priceless fabric, you filthy cur!”

The Darkyung bleated before bending Camellia over, pressing its own breasts and pelvis against her, grinding its drooling muff into her posterior.

“Agh! What are you—noooo no no!” Panic rose in her voice when one tentacle pulled off her porcelain mask, revealing the vampire’s scarred visage. The Darkyung brought its snout closer, opening its toothy maw to allow a long dexterous tongue to lap around her cheeks. “M-my face! Give me back my face!!”

“Hey! Get your paws off her, you horny-waaah!!” Esmeralda cut herself off with a squeak as another of the ebony goat’s brood lifted her effortlessly, holding her upside down to access her privates. She vainly tried to keep her thighs from parting, only for the beast’s coils to flick and pinch with her tiny nipples.

“Nn-naaaahh~!” The petite batmare involuntarily quivered and mewled, her legs spreading for the Darkyung as it kissed her entrance and whipped its slimy appendage around her insides. Esmeralda couldn’t deny her arousal to the demeaning ordeal, pussy juice leaked down her mound, drenching her stomach.

“M-Mistress, please,” Camellia called out to Alma between heated moans, her body betraying her from the vague female goat creature’s forceful caresses. “Y-you have to stop this!!”

But Alma looked lost in her little world again. Paralyzed by the raunchy display while the third of the lesser All-Mother children shyly caressed and massaged the Baobhan Sith, who released an airy sigh, not at all disturbed by the wiggling tentacles that curled around her ample breasts and hips.

“Naagh~! Just lie back an' think ov Transylmania or wherever th' fuck ye wenches come from,” Douglas halfheartedly suggested, far too fixated on the pleasure he got from Lady She’ba’s mouth. Gripping her horns like handlebars, he vigorously slammed his hips into her face, swabbing her throat with his salty length.

She gargled and sputtered, a new layer of spit coating his dick each time her snout met his crotch. Some dribbled down to stain her leaking fat E cups, undulating each time she was jerked around.

“Aaauh! Haven’t had a good suckin' in a long time,” breathed Douglas, loving the sight of his cock as it disappeared past her luscious lips. “Ye’re a real ‘throat goat,’ aren’t ya~?”

She’ba batted her eyes at him and managed to nod her head. Her sultry look only encouraged his abhorrent behavior, speeding up his brutal face pounding before hilting her maw. He relished the way her esophagus spasmed around his shaft.

“Yeah, That’s it! Keep them pretty eyes on me while ye choke on mah cock~!” Yet to his astonishment, she managed to stick out her tongue and wriggle it around his swollen orbs, making him gasp and shudder.

“H-Holy!! Whoa there!!” Douglas immediately pulled out, wet schlong prying She’ba lips with a wet ‘pop.’ “Fuck me, that almost made me blow!”

“Pha! Figured you’d be a quick shot—mmph~!?!” Esmeralda, who turned to taunt him, found her mouth engulfed by a slimy tendril as the Darkyung molesting her seized all her sex orifices in a unified thrust.

Ignoring her comment, the kelpie praised, “Yeesh, Shubby. Ye’re a whole new breed ov freaky slut~!”

Lady She’ba giggled after coughing out a bit more saliva. “There are none like me. Now…” Once more, she took a supine position, presenting her large milky udders at him, and parted her thighs, her pussy wet and winking. “… Come have a taste ov what eternity is like~.”

Needing no further motivation, the lecherous water demon settled between the satyress’ legs, rubbing his flared tip against the parting petals before fully sheathing all of his shaft into her love tunnel, an enticed sigh shared between the two.

Douglas resumed pummeling the ebony goat woman and lifting one of She’ba’s hefty dairy mounds to his snout, resigned to fuck her hard while sucking her dry. His other hand kneaded her left breast, soaking his calloused fingers in the warm pale-purplish substance.

“Aaahhh~! Yes, yes! Sow yer seed intae me, stud,” she chanted between husky moans. “Give mommy a clutter of yer young~!”

While the breeding talk wasn’t exactly his kink, Douglas couldn’t deny it was doing it for him. The way that velvety voice urged him on drove the Vice Lord into a lustful frenzy, tugging on her fat tits for more of that delicious milk as his tip breached the ebony satyress’s cervix. It was the tightest pussy he’d ever plundered, her slippery birth canal squeezing his cock so much, it was hard to pull in and out!

His eyes went blank, images of all the women he ever captured and violated overwhelming his mind. Fantasies of the lays he wanted to claim, including the pair of vampiric minxes that vexed him, came to life.

“Always knew ye were a cold fish, Camellia,” he growled between thrusts, milk, and drool dripping down his smiling lips. “But at least yer cunt’s nice an' hot~!”

“Vile vermin!” the real masked batmare seethed, crimson eyes glaring at the vulgar scene. As if being molested by this putrid monster wasn’t bad enough, she had to watch this loathsome sailer pretend he was fucking her in his mania. It reminded her too much of her Count Dhullex, the cruel master who sired both her and Esmeralda, forced them to become his brides, and permanently marked her once beautiful face with cross-shaped scars with his nails when she refused to obey him.

“W-Wait a minute,” Esmeralda said after spitting out the intrusive coil. “Something’s happening.”

The thestral couple noticed a strange enigmatic glow shimmer around the drunken water demon, his muscles expanding as eldritch power began to course through him. Douglas arched back, moaning loudly to the ceiling as he climaxed, pumping She’ba’s slavering pussy with his horse splooge.

“Yes! It’s workin'!! A-A’m feelin' it! Ah feel th' power!” He declared with delighted laughter, no longer paying attention to the ebony goat woman, who wore an unsatisfactory frown while scooping out some cum from her freshly fucked hole. “Th' oceans are but an'ther womb tae conquer! Virgin lands, waitin' tae get fucked by me, Lord Douglas! All th' riches an' wenches Ah could want!”

Alma paused her forttage with the Darkyung, gazing at her fellow Vice Lord with astonishment. Her doubts about the bargain were momentarily washed away, seeing the kelpie conjure his Onoma to pry her followers away from the Darkyung’s grasp.

“See this, ye uppercrust bitches? Maybe now ye’ll start showin' me th' respect Ah deserve an' finally give me a taste ov yer pussy sweets!”

“I’d allow maggots to feast on my flesh before I ever show you an ounce of interest, you miserable swine!” spat Camellia.

“We don’t want your small, smelly dick anywhere near us,” added Esmeralda, squirming at the sight of his cum-stained cock, still throbbing stiff. “You’re nothing but a pussy whipped Bluebeard knockoff!”

“Ah am a Vice Lord!” The water demon corrected angrily, “Ye two are merely ex whores ov a wannabe Dracula! Ye may have hunted many monsters an' made a small name fur yerselves, but ye’re a footnote compared tae me! An' when A’m finished wit ye, ye’ll grovel fur mah cock like th' lowly bottom feeders ye… ye-yeeeeaaaaaarrghk!”

Douglas suddenly dropped his aquatic hold on the vampiric duo, staring at his shaking limbs as blackened veins bulged out from his corpse-like complexion. The kelpie bellowed as his body contorted and changed, his musculature expanding rapidly. The leeches stuck to his barrel chest became infused with his skin, the bloated creatures growing in size.

He fell to his knees, vomiting clear liquid as his watery eyes fell back to the eldritch sorceress, who rose to her hooves feet with a sly smirk on her lips.

“Aaaghk… Ye bitch! What have ye done tae me..?!”

“Precisely as Ah promised,” She’ba said condescendingly. “Givin' ye th' power yer salty soul craves. But he who makes a beast ov himself is free from th' pain ov being a man~.”

Douglas roared in outrage, wielding his hydromancy and lunging for the ebony satyress’ throat. But while the Vice Lord did so, the Mistress of the Woods held up the ornamental bell collaring her neck and gave it a ring. The sound wave knocked the kelpie down, his agonized cries increasing as he felt his magic assimilate into the bell.

“NAAAAAAUGH!!”

Robbed of his Onoma, nothing could prevent the Vice Lord’s anguish as the last of his sanity spent staring fearfully at his comrades, reaching out to them.

But like so many women before them, they recoiled with disdain, Esmeralda and Camellia quietly taking solace in watching the foul sea demon succumb to his monstrous mutation.

However, whatever joy they might have felt quickly gave way to horror. Algae and seaweed overtook the bulky equine creature, some of which grew into slimy bioluminescent tentacles adorned by suction cups. Also protruding from its back were four elongated leeches, puckered mouths pulled back to show off endless rows of tiny teeth.

Douglas’ teal pupils split into a manifold of glowing eyes, his snout opening until tissue stretched apart as a harrowing neigh croaked out the kelpie’s maw.

“Burgh! He reeks worse than before!”

“And I thought he couldn’t get more disgusting,” muttered Esmeralda, punching her snout.

“An upgrade, honestly,” snickered She’ba, who stroked the stallion monster’s flared snout.

Alma’s crimson stare fixated on the ancient bell that siphoned her cohort’s power. “Isn’t that th'—”

“Bewitching Bell,” acknowledged the black goat of the woods. “An heirloom from mah great grand uncle, Grogar~.”

Camellia balked. “The Father of Monsters?”

“You’re related?!” exclaimed Esmeralda.

“There’s a piece ov me inside e'ery doe, ram, buck, and ewe,” she elaborated. “What better way tae connect tae mah descendants than through a mortal vessel? Yet none could handle th' vast strain mah very presence wrought. Their feeble minds were too easily broken…”

The Baobhan Sith grimaced. “All except her..?”

“Th' one ye call Oona, yes,” confirmed She’ba. “A’ll spare ye th' details, but let’s just say ye don’t know what she’s been through tae come this far~.”

Motioning to the auburn hair vampiress, she said, “An' now, Alma. It’s yer turn~.”

The Vice Lord hesitated, a cold chill running up her spine. She didn’t want to turn like Douglas, the kelpie reduced to a mindless abomination that mirrored Midnight in his hyper-stallion state. But despite his new grotesque appearance, he appeared more formidable than before…

Biting her lip and tightening her fist, she approached the eldritch sorceress and enveloped her lips around one swollen teat. Unlike the greedier Douglas, she carefully sipped from the ebony goat’s bosom before pulling away, savoring her milk’s strange yet scrumptious tang.

A sudden surge of ungodly pressure contracting beneath her breasts, a cry of pain escaping her vocal cords while gripping her head, withstanding overwhelming nausea. Esmeralda and Camilla tried to act but were quickly apprehended by the Darkyung while their All-Mother lifted the Bewitching Bell with her hand.

“Shhh, that’s it, dear. Let go,” she urged with a silky whisper. “Expunge th' vampirism taintin' yer soul, an' bath in th' essence ov renewed fae life!”

With a shake, the bell’s chime drew out Alma’s curse, scarlet aura pouring out her eyes and screaming mouth.

Once her demonic prowess was extracted, Alma cast her head back to howl, her pale figure drained of all color and becoming stark white. All her deer antlers and hooves, wolf’s tail, and raven feathers disintegrated and melted off.

Antenna-like appendages grew out of her head. Four massive leathery membranes, shaped like butterfly wings, completely with large eye-shaped organs underneath. Her hands and feet darkened, crimson markings spreading all her arms, legs, and belly.

The thestral couple were stunned by the radiance their Mistress exuded after her radical metamorphosis was complete. And when the throbbing pain in her head ceased, Alma opened her new unblinking red eyes.

“Th' Baobhan Sith is no more,” announced She’ba, who offered a mirror for the eldritch faerie to admire herself in. “Now ye are Alma, Blood Faerie ov th' Black Rose~!”

Alma could make out her reflection for the first time in millennia, sharp nails tracing her pale cheek. A wave of emotions washed over her. Fear for what she had become, yet jubilation that the curse had been upheaved.

Clear tears ran down her face, having forgotten what it had looked like before the high lords ruined her.

What started as sobs soon turned to wicked cackles, Alma’s laughter making the Glamorguis whimper.

Camellia voiced her concern. “Mistress? A-Are you alright..?”

Heaving a contented sigh, she turned to her pair of followers with a wide smile. “Better than okay. A'm invigorated!” Her wing flaps folded around her voluptuous form, forming a robe to cover herself. “Mah wings. Mah body! It’s back! Yet somehow, mah mind an' bloodthirst remain?”

“Ye were smart tae curb yer ingestion, sae th' after-effects aren’t as damagin',” the ebony satyress shrugged. “Ye’ll need tae drink from me consistently if ye wish tae maintain yer sanity, but that’s an'ther day.” Her eyes narrowed as her face became serious. “A’ve fulfilled mah end ov our arrangement. Ah trust ye’ll honor yers. Less ye invoke a goddess’ wrath…”

“But ov course,” the pale fae queen nodded before taking a knee. “Ah, along wit all members ov mah court, pledge allegiance tae th' Cult ov th' Nemesis an' swear gratitude an' devotion tae th' Ebony Goat ov th' Woods!”

Esmeralda and Camellia, however, couldn’t hide their contempt for the idea of aiding this abominable goddess in whatever she was plotting. The sinister smile that crept across her snout was too telling.

“Ye’ve made a powerful ally today, Alma,” surmised Lady She’ba, dispelling the ghost circle and despawning her Darkyung. “Ah look forward tae yer contributions. We shall await yer arrival befur th' Eve ov May.” Her thorny vines helped the curvy doe redress her gown and cultist wear. Then, opening a distorting portal, she left without another word, taking the thundering storm with her.

Alma didn’t linger on the consequences of her decision for too long. With her previous life restored and strength renewed, she telepathically commanded the eldritch beast to intertwine with her so it may feed on her latent essence. The blood faerie moaned as its tendrils coiled and caressed her breasts and ass, allowing the appendages to penetrate her pussy and anus. The Glamorguis grumbled along with her, its limbs alight with glowing red energy to sate its hunger.

Whenever Alma physically and spiritually unionized with the eldritch beast, visions of its former Mistress, Bellatrix Primadonna, swam into her mind’s eye. This also brought forth their last exchange together before Layla saved and liberated her.

The former Baobhan Sith wasn’t sure whether she missed or despised her more than ever!

Regardless, she would supplant her castle with enough energy to help transport it to the Isle of Parras and prepare for their next confrontation!

Meanwhile, her followers gathered their disregarded clothing, drenched in sweat and fatigue from the ordeal.

“I can’t believe she made us sully ourselves,” Camellia whispered to her partner, adjusting her bosom. “I’m… not certain we’ve made the prudent choice.”

“It’s too late for regrets,” murmured Esmeralda. “We’ve pledged ourselves to our Mistress. Alas, our word is our bond. That being said, I find her choice of company dubious...”

Her pink eyes settled on Douglas, the once mouthy and depraved kelpie pirate now a mere reflection of his monstrous design. The only noises he could make were snorts and whinnies, which she detected a hint of sorrow in.

For a moment, she almost pitied him. Then she cruelly smiled and mumbled, “Hoist by your own petard! Or would that be a Jolly Roger? Ah, but I suppose I will miss your base banter.”

Camellia, who’d recovered her mask and strapped it back into place, merely offered him a look of disdain before she turned away. “I hope we won’t come to regret this,” she whispered to her lover and exchanged a deep kiss, their arms momentarily entwined about each other.

Within moments, Lady She’ba stepped out of the dimensional rift before a banquet table set up in the woodlands of Parras. Acolytes hurried to greet her now that her identity was no long concealed.

“Welcome, All-Mother!”

“You bless us with your presence!”

“Hail the Black Goat of the Woods!”

The ebony satyress tittered with amusement, almost overwhelmed by the adorations the Cult of the Nemesis dotted her in. As she made her way to the head of the table, she noted the variety of mouth-watering food on display. No doubt crafted to perfection by the ever-dedicated Seer of Black Dreams. With the ‘aid’ of any naysayers within their fold.

Grogar noticed his great grand niece and greeted her with open arms. “Aha! My prodigal apprentice. You’ve returned successful, no doubt.”

“Great uncle,” she mused cutely when hugging him. “Are th' other arrangements complete? Is e'erythin' goin' accordin' tae plan?”

The older ram chuckled. “Not to worry. By the time Walpurgisnacht strikes, you’ll be well acquainted with this ‘Dream Faun’ and her child.”

“Oona,” she corrected. “Her name is Oona. Ohh, Ah can hardly wait tae meet her!”

“Patience,” said Omen, who stepped out of his cooking tent with a fresh bowl of stew and a bloodied apron. “We wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise I’ve spent years setting up, now would we?”

“Baa! Ye an' yer ‘surprises,’” She’ba snorted. “Don’t forget who gave ye th' means tae make all this possible!”

The deerman playfully pouted. “I know better than to bite the hand that feeds. Speaking of which, did you successfully recruit Alma and her legion?”

“As if ye need tae ask,” the ebony satyress rolled her eyes while tapping the Bewitching Bell. “Outside ov extractin' Alma’s vampirism, Ah only had tae take th' kelpie’s Onoma. Figured ye’d make better use ov it.”

“Yes. Oceanus’ ability to manipulate water was wasted on that ruffian,” agreed Omen, still holding a bit of resentment for Douglas during his captivity. “Have efforts been made to locate the resting place of—”

“Already underway,” said Grogar, who stroked his beard as he pondered. “Hmm. And I may know the perfect candidate who should receive Oceanus.”

The nahtdyr nodded before sitting down and placing a napkin over his lap. “That can wait a little longer. Come, eat. I think you’ll find this dish to be exceptionally tasty~.”

The two caprines curiously took a spoonful of the soup and slurped, their facial features relaxing as the warmth and flavor washed over their senses.

“Mmm! Well seasoned!”

“Th' rich aroma also adds tae th' eloquent taste an' appealin' color,” complemented She’ba. “Which heretic was this?”

“Oh, not a heretic,” amended Omen. “Just someone who skittered a little too close to the base.”

“Pha! Poor thing should have steered clear the moment they found out what they were in for,” the elderly ram joked.

A knowing grin spreads the dark cervine’s snout. “Yes… she should have.”

As the cultists dined in, he playfully stirred the soup while humming the nursery rhyme of ‘itsy bitsy spider’ before sipping another spoonful.

Moments after the destruction of the Necronomicon, those gathered by Layla’s chambers awoke from unconsciousness. Dion rubbed his head while Iclyn and Arcanum Folklore brushed themselves off.

“Ugh… what happened?” The burly ram asked. “Ah remember this swirlin' vortex ov horror, followed by a big flash an' then… blank!”

“I believe we witness the end of that wretched book,” the cyan doe grunted before examining the stairway ahead. “And that gunk barricading the entrance is gone!”

Without losing a moment, the erenn stallion lit his horn with magic to pry the see-through doors and hurried inside. The trio surveyed the damage and breathed a sigh of relief to find Zeloph, Beatrix, and Viscera unconscious.

Arcanum overlooked Zeloph, and the first visible ripples of the Necronomicon’s undoing manifested as darkness evaporated out of his body. The orange strife on the angel’s midnight locks gradually overtook the entirety of his hair, seemingly restoring it to its original color before his imprisonment within the tome. The beckoning Vorpal Blade dematerialized into cubic shapes, vanishing into the angelic alien’s forehead.

When Dion and Iclyn approached Beatrix, she stirred and murmured before she came too. The knightly caprine dropped to lift her into his arm, calling out, “Lass?”

The violet mare’s eyes fluttered open, a dreary smile on her face while she brushed a finger through his black beard. “Mmmm… If I pretend to still be asleep, do I get a kiss~?”

Dion sheepishly chuckled while Iclyn rolled her eyes. “Wonderful. Glad to know her childish nature remains intact.”

“Intact… what do you—wait..!”

Beatrix’s pupils shrank to pinpricks as she rose, startled, watching the essence of her power steadily leave her. “O-Oh gods, I… I can feel it! My magic… My immortality..!!” Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she poked her bust, which proved a tad less bouncy than usual. The pouty unicorn witch whined, “Even my alchemy enhancements are gone!”

The onlookers wore blank expressions as Iclyn dryly pointed out, “… Your tits look exactly the same.”

“Nu-uh! They’re far less perky and way smaller,” insisted Beatrix, fondling her set of double D cups. With a defeated sigh, she muttered, “At least the Demiurge is still connected to me for the moment…”

“You’ll have to let that go eventually,” reminded Arcanum.

“Aye, trust us. It’s fur th' best,” Dion reassured, stroking her platinum blonde locks. “Ye did th' right thing."

Beatrix managed to nod her head while letting her friends help her hobble back to heeled boots. “I hope… Oh! Zeloph! Is he—?”

“Out like a light. And a redhead, apparently! But otherwise, he’s okay.”

Beatrix heaved a sigh of relief before her expression twisted at the sight of Viscera, still sickly and foul looking.

As the group cautiously approached her, Dion drew out his great sword, ready to slay the nephilim while they had a chance. Unfortunately, Arcanum noticed her spines quivering and blurted out, “Hold it! She’s not—!”

The monstress demi-human snapped her eyes open and rose with a violent shriek. Her dusty wingspan batted away the warrior caprine. Iclyn tried to channel a flurry in her hands, only to be blasted with a chemical cloud that burnt into her eyes. “Aaaughh!”

“Iclyn!” shouted Beatrix, her horn flaring with a magical aura.

But when she unleashed her triple storm spell, all that conjured were three balls of the elements that hardly damaged Viscera, who tauntingly said, “Was that supposed to tickle me~?”

“Nah. But this will!” boasted Arcanum, who summoned his signature firearm and took shots at Viscera, who erected bony protrusions to block the bullets, though one magically infused round managed to hit and rip through her skin.

Hissing, she retaliated with corrosive shots from her titan arum tail, one of which reduced his weapon to sludge. “Motherfuck—!”

The warlock’s curses were interrupted by more orichalcum bones she released, unable to evade them all as one pierced his stomach.

And to make sure Dion couldn’t recover, Viscera ejaculated her adhesive slime all over him, the substance rapidly hardening to glue him to the floor. With all her obstacles out of her way, the harpy beldam leered at her unconscious prize and strutted towards him, running a tongue over her beak-shaped mouth.

In a panic, Beatrix stood between the two demi-humans with a protective stance, glaring defiantly at the villainous avian. “Get back!”

Viscera hollered with wicked laughter. “And who’s going to make me? You? Without the Necronomicon and Demiurge boosting your prowess, you only have cheap parlor tricks and second-rate magic!” She ran her tongue along her topaz bony wrist blade. “So stand aside, honey. You don’t have a chance~!”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” retorted Beatrix, with as strong a voice she could muster. She glanced back at Zeloph and proclaimed, “The Necronomicon doesn’t define who I am. And I won’t rely on it anymore! Especially when it comes to taking down the likes of you!”

In a black flash, Erebus manifested around the curvy witch mare, cosmic darkness waving around her form and her rapier in hand. This wiped the callous smile off the nephilim’s face as the two squared off in a duel, steel clashing against the bone with flying sparks.

Beatrix ducked and weaved out of any acidic projectiles and shrapnel Viscera flung at her, countered by orbs of black magic. Despite being at a major power disadvantage, the wayward witch didn’t skip a beat while manipulating her Onoma to suit her needs in combat, much to Viscera’s growing agitation.

“Grrrrrgh! Stubborn equestrian whore! You don’t know when to quit!!”

Beatrix valiantly yelled, “I’ll quit when you monsters stop messing with me and my friends!”

With the vile one distracted, Arcanum muffled his yell while yanking the bone out of his injured stomach, stumbling over to assist the others. He warned up his palm to cauterize the wound with a strained hiss. Iclyn had her hands cupped over her face, fighting off the sting in her eyes while Dion struggled to wrestle his way out.

“Hang on, big guy. I’ll get you out,” the scruffy detective said, channeling his magic through his dagger to slick through the hardened gunk, which proved a lot less resilient than the contamination mold.

Beatrix and Viscera reached an impasse, arms shaking for leverage one could gain over the other. Sweat poured down the unicorn’s brow, her foe slowly pushing her down… until the strange corvid creature assisted by fluttering at her face, trying to peck her eyes out.

“What—Ghaak! Stupid bird, where did you come from—Aaagh!!”

Seizing the opportunity, Beatrix regained momentum, unleashing Erebus’ full might to pin the Vice Lord against the wall. Spotting the cawing raven, she breathily said, “T-Thanks!”

Arcanum pulled with all his might until a sizable fissure cracked the carapace concealing Dion, who burst an arm out and pried the rest off. The two clapped hands as the alabaster ram pulled himself back on. Iclyn also recovered by rubbing some salt in her eyes, her vision blurry.

Realization of her imminent defeat quickly became the rage. Viscera let out a furious screech and conjured her own Onoma, using Erebus to spread her infectious blight toward Beatrix. Once the witch was forced to separate from her magic, the nephilim unfurled her large plumage to free herself and swooped past, knocking aside both the unicorn and alien crow.

She landed near Zeloph, seizing him in her talons, and flapped her wing to propel herself skywards before Arcanum and Dion could intercept, creating a strong gust that pushed them back.

Beatrix cried. “Oh no! Zeloph!!”

“Don’t let her escape!” Yelled Dion.

Both mages launched spells at the avian demoness, who twirled and bested her wings until smashing through the glass dome and sailing away. The collateral damage awoke the Glamorguis, as well as Layla, with a pained gasp. Once she put together what had happened, the motherly succubus resumed making immediate repairs with her energy before the spacecraft was too impaired to take off.

“Damn it all!” cursed Arcanum, who clutched at his wounded belly. “We’ll never catch her now.”

“It’s no use,” said Iclyn, equally irritated. “Had I not been blinded, I could have frozen that butt-ugly turkey solid!”

Reluctantly, Dion resheathed his claymore. “Great! We’re down an'ther member ov our team! Can this day ov shite get any worse?!”

“We can’t leave without Zeloph,” exclaimed Beatrix. “He doesn’t have a suit! If he’s exposed to the planet’s radiation long enough, he’ll—”

“We can’t afford to remain on Sacratera,” Layla’s voice echoed through the Glamorguis. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Beatrix. But we must trust Bellatrix and the others will secure Zeloph while we make port for Midnight’s world.”

Begrudgingly, the group cooperated and left the premises to refocus their efforts elsewhere while the Mother of Demons poured her all into recalibrating the hole in her roof. When Julianne came too, holding her head, she swiftly commanded, “Go help purge the ship of any disease you find. And heal whoever’s hurt on your way!”

“At once, your ladyship,” the rosy-haired nun complied, spreading her wings to fly off into one of the many corridors.

Layla pursed her lips together as she worked, aware that they were sitting ducks until the sickness was cleaned from the Glamorguis systems. She’d underestimated her prisoner, overly confident in the UFO’s extraordinary tech.

The primordial woman vowed never to make that mistake again. Should there be a next time…

Bellatrix Primadonna was the first to regain consciousness outside the UFO, rising with a groan. Her golden eyes opened to find her allies and opponents on the ground. She recalled brilliant light spearing the skies before unleashing a massive shockwave that paused their battle.

Eventually, Analise, Seb, and Arron rose with grumbles and aching heads. Then, Mortis Solitaire and his draconic minion, Andrei, stood back up like reanimated corpses.

“Strange… I no longer sense the Necronomicon,” the skeletal lich announced, eyes narrowed. “Was it really destroyed..?”

Bellatrix, too, no longer felt the tempting magic that occasionally compelled her to act on her worst instincts. She briefly glanced all over herself, finding nothing different from her succulent curves clad in the skintight spacesuit.

“They did it! And I’m still in one piece,” she surmised, slightly relieved.

Their attention turned to the sound of glass shattering, lifting their heads to spot the vile one carrying an unconscious Zeloph skyward.

Bellatrix snarled. “Viscera!”

“She’s got Zelly!” Ana cried out.

“No,” muttered Mortis. “I cannot allow her to taint the Fallen One’s soul! Andrei, to me!”

The reaper stallion in tattered black robes levitated after her, Andrei beating his leathery wings to follow his master… only to be pulled back to the ground. Each of his three heads glowered at Arron, who grappled his tail while keeping his feet planted.

“Nnnagh! Hey! Where do you think you’re going?!” The bull-headed brawler said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t hear no bell!!”

Mortis didn’t get too far either, getting sprayed by bullet rounds. And while no blood was drawn, purified salt leaked out, causing the undead warlock searing pain.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” Seb taunted while clipping in a new magazine. “Y’know, I thought I wasn’t gonna make a cent doing ‘hero’ shit, but you’ve made me realize something! I can make a killing selling witch doctors ornamentations from your corpse!”

Bellatrix and Ana glared daggers at the card demon. “Seb!!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know! Less plotting, more ghost busting!” He rolled his eyes before firing more salt-laced ammo at Mortis, who deflected the bullets with his guillotine-bladed scythe.

The battle resumed between the undead and the demi-humans, plus Bellatrix. Arron was faring much better with his rematch against Andrei, absorbing the dragon’s ghastly breath with his crystalline skin before punching back with some slugger-style boxing.

The same couldn’t be said with Mortis. Despite the handicap of avoiding the succubus’ claws and weapons, along with Seb taking potshots with every gun-based artillery in his deck, the vengeful wraith held his own thanks to all the life he siphoned from the planet.

He swung his scythe through the air to send crescent-shaped projectiles at his opponents, who barely avoided the cleaves.

“Witness how a true death sworn wields the power of Thanatos!” The black shrouded reaper boasted, calling forth the wispy energy of Shadow Scythe’s stolen Onoma. With the betrayer dead, Mortis was the last member of his order, leaving him to become the embodiment of death itself. And he demonstrated his mastery by launching the shadows he cast to entangle with the demoness’ silhouettes, rendering them immobile.

“Aaagh! Can’t… m-move!!” Growled Bellatrix.

Ana seethed. “Cum guzzlin' twat! Let go!!”

Mortis conjured a shadowy replica of his sickle-armed to strike through the connecting darkness, projecting a sharp blade that traveled along the outstretched shadow like a shark’s dorsal fin. The attack landed, slicing open both succubi as the impact propelled them to the ground with painful howls.

“Shit!” Seb cursed, watching his bloodied comrades plummet next to him with a thud. Worse, his dual pistols ran out of ammo, leaving him with only a few long-range weapons he could use. And any stray attacks that missed them further punctured the Glamorguis. “The ship can’t take much more of this crap! Why didn’t we fold when we had the chance?!”

“Because I ain’t no bitch,” Arron yelled while withstanding another fiery blast from Andrei. “If I’m going to die, I’m at least going out swinging. But we’re not out of the race yet!”

“He’s right,” groaned Analise, struggling to pull herself up while her venus flytrap tail lapped at her wounds. Her spacesuit was significantly damaged, leaving some parts of her body exposed. “Nah way 're we turnin' tail. Not when that 'arpy bizzich 'as me brother!”

Her magenta eyes fixated on Viscera, who was circling the scene like the scavenging vulture she was. She tried to call her Onoma but ceased when it proved too taxing on her physique. “Shitbisquits! I’m nearly tapped aahhht. Aw that nickle and dime wasted on that lunkhead Midnight, and I can’t conjure dick!”

“My hand is almost empty,” added Seb, holding only a few more cards before pointing at Arron. “And he won’t last two more minutes in the ring. I hate to say it, amigos. But it looks like we went all in for nothing..!”

“N-no!” Bellatrix raised to her feet, blood oozing out her chest, arm, and lip. “I’m not dying here,” she proclaimed with cold determination. “Not while I have amends to make!”

Part of all this was her fault. Had she not let her vanity and greed get the better of her, Alma wouldn’t have taken control of the manor and imprisoned Oona, Omen, and Demi-Trix. Only now did she understand what it was like to be haunted by your mistakes, much like her sister, Shadow Scythe, and Zeloph felt.

The red-skinned devil balled her fist, unwilling to die before she could redeem herself in everyone’s eyes! Before she had a second chance to help the woman she coveted!

And so, Bella rubbed a hand over her belly, where the protective symbol Layla left over her womb rested like a rune tattooed onto her crimson flesh.

On instinct, she reached beneath the cool confines of the black spacesuit, where her claw-like nails peeled away the surface skin. Grunts hissed beneath her clenched teeth, hot blood splashing over her finger while she carved a line through the archaic mark, its effect and glow fettering.

Realizing what she was doing, Ana expressed concern. “Bella, wait! Ya do that, and you’ll—”

“I know,” she assured, eyes low to her abdomen. “But it’s a small price to pay if It means saving my friends.”

Once the seal was broken, the she-devil felt Zeloph’s potent seed slosh inside her womb, taking root and bathing her ovaries. She sighed hotly, her breasts and belly swelling slightly, nipples erected underneath the fabric.

Understanding the dire situation, Ana turned to her fellow demis and ordered, “Find a way ter score us extra time!”

“Fucking excuse me? You can’t be serious!”

But Ana used the last of her energy to shroud Bellatrix and herself in the neon void, leaving the gambler and brawler to fend for themselves.

“Oh, what the actual shit!”

“Quit your whining and help me!” Arron roared, veins bulging through his muscles while trying to keep one of Andrei’s mouths from closing around him. Growling, Seb loaded up his patronage tommy gun and sprayed Mortis before he could attempt to reach Viscera and Zeloph.

Ana changed back into her imp shape inside the neon void, for once wholly spent. “Not sure 'a long this’ll last, but it's the bleedin' best I can do,” the lesser demoness said through pants.

“I appreciate it,” Bellatrix said with a somber smile. “I… I never meant to hurt you, Moxxi. You never restrain yourself with how you feel about things. I should’ve realized it was different regarding your brother...”

Moxxi’s face twitched with emotion, but she shook it off. “'eaven and 'ell, love. I'm over it. I realized it wasn’t meant ter be after seein' 'a much 'e loved Edgie and vice versa. In a way, I discovered 'e 'ad a type.”

The red-skinned succubus curled a brow. “And that’s…?”

The imp gave her a sly smirk. “Women that could kill him~.”

The devilish women shared a light laugh before pressure bubbled within Bella’s body, making her shudder from the strange sensation. Moxxi gave her a hand to hold and reiterated, “Ya can’t take this back.”

“None of us can,” acknowledged Bellatrix. “I’m not even sure how we’ll handle this. But I want you to know that you’re important to me. You, Zell, the others… I think I’ve finally found people I can… a-aah~!” She hissed louder, her face strained, and her body shuddered, lost in the throes of mock birth. “I-I think this is my-”

“-your Onoma!” Moxxi agreed rather excitedly. “Blimey, Layla’s milkshakes must 'ave 'elped unlock it!”

“Guess so,” wheezed Bellatrix, thankful that the neon cord concealed this embarrassing process as a new sigil glowed around her stomach. She settled onto her back, ready to call forth whatever demon was being summoned and worry about the consequences later.

Sniffles rose from Bellatrix, small tears in the corner of her eyes when she squeezed Moxxi’s claw. “So this is Gehenna...my Onoma…haha. Some Queen of Hell I am! Fuck, Alma probably knows far more about the underworld than I do! Before a chance encounter, I was little more than an animal, left to wander mindlessly in the Necronomicon and prey upon lesser devils to ensure my pointless survival!”

She then screamed out her pain, trapped somewhere between agony and ecstasy from orgasmic birth throes once the ancient hellish magic unleashed, transforming her feminine core into a pathway into some mythic form of the underworld.

“I-I think I get it,” Bellatrix said breathlessly, instinctual awareness of her new power washing over her. “Like the Key of Solomon... I’ve become the gateway for every demon written in the Ars Goetia. But I’ll need a powerful seed to unlock each entry… Within minutes, I’ll temporarily bring a powerful devil into the world!”

“Shit! Outside of the pseudo preggers bit, that sounds amazin'!” Moxxi praised. “But can Seb and Arron 'old them until then?!”

“They’ll have to! Almost...there..!”

More scorching hot energy spiraled from Bellatrix, whose birth canal quivered to push out the conjuring demon in a deluge of messy juices. Her only solace was that it would get easier with time and diligence!

Another scream ripped from the she-devil’s throat when the archdevil was brought forth, his claws stretching and widening Bella’s walls to pull himself free as he twisted and squirmed headfirst, awash in her juices which continued to spatter. It felt like he would tear her in half, thankful the multiple climaxes that ripped through her made the pain and shame bearable. Finally, he popped free from her gaped wide cunt, Bella’s sweaty breasts left to wheeze and heave as she dripped.

The two demonesses’ recognized him as Asmodeus, one of the seven princes of hell and patron demon of lust. He had a crowned humanoid shape while a bull and ram’s visage adorned his shoulders. His entire lower body was serpentine, fin-shaped wings unfurled from his back. He stood on rooster legs.

He stretched his limbs before turning to address Bellatrix, floating with his arms and legs crossed. “So, you’re Lily's next Queen of Hell, hmm?” he said with a flamboyant tone, hands on his hips. “A little generic for my taste.”

Bellatrix narrowed her glowing gaze, mustering what dignity she could, what with her swollen belly, milk-dotted swollen nipples, and female lubricant continually leaking down her asshole. “I did not go through false labor just to be sassed by an underling!”

All three of his faces snickered. “Yeesh, relax! I’m happy to serve whoever gets me out of the hotbox. It’s been eons since I was last summoned!”

“Listen, Azzie,” Moxxi cuts in. “We’re currently under siege by a livin' 'alloween decoration and 'is bitchass pet gecko! Is there anything ya can do that’ll 'elp us aahhht?!”

Asmodeus briefly poked his head out to assess the situation before replying, “Mmm… Yea, no. I’m not getting my hands dirty with this.”

“Oh, ya tit suckin' lousy piece of dogturd!! Nah wonder Layla divorced your ass!!”

“Hey, hey, easy now!” The archdevil held out his hands. “I’m more of a lover than a fighter. But I can grant you a wish!”

Bellatrix deadpanned, “… a wish? That’s it?!”

“I know it doesn’t sound like a lot, but outside of a few restrictions, it can be anything you want!”

Moxxi smacked her face. “You’re tellin' me the primordial demon of lust, wahn of the seven princes of hell, is just a glorified genie..?!”

“In a sense,” Asmodeus admitted shyly. “But these are universal free wishes. Anything you desire—solongasitsinmypower—will be granted.”

Bellatrix soured. “So you wouldn't be able to resurrect Atalanta..?”

Asmodeus drummed his fingers awkwardly. “Technically, I can! It just wouldn’t be in any form you’d want. Sorry!”

Bellatrix tried not to think about what a decayed, decrepit, half-braindead monstrosity Shadow Scythe would likely be if she attempted that.

“No, I’m sure neither she nor Zeloph would appreciate that.” She rose to her knees to face him, covered in perspiration and heaving. “We need to find a way to defeat our enemies!”

Moxxi tapped her chin and foot in thought before snapping her fingers. “Ooh! I kna! We could reverse Mortis’ spell and buckshee Edgie’s soul!”

Asmodeus tensed his shoulders. “See, that particular spell is hard to undo, especially with how tightly Atalanta’s soul is bound to Mortis.”

The imp clutched her head and growled with frustration. “Sev'nty-two demons of the Ars Goetia, and we get stuck wif the wahn 'oo does fuck aw!”

A light bulb then turned on above Bellatrix’s head. “… or maybe that’s not the right spell!”

Both demons tilted their heads. “Huh?”

Staring hard at Asmodeus, the she-devil asked, “The alchemy that merged three dragons into Andrei. Can that be undone?”

The prince of hell considered it for a moment before responding, “That should be within my capabilities—EEEK!”

Bellatrix yanked him by the jaw, glaring intensely into his immoral soul, and threatened, “Just do it before I disembowel you, then remove your genitals and shove them up your—”

“Gagh! Okay, okay! Consider it done,” Asmodeus conceded.

With a plan formulated and Bellatrix’s spacesuit stretched back into place, the darkened sphere of the neon void dissipated, revealing that both Seb and Arron were on the ropes, the former evading Mortis’ wrath. At the same time, the latter was weary from all the punishment he took, keeping Andrei at bay.

Asmodeus rushed to aid the golden demi, drawing all of Andrei’s heads towards him.

“Pha! Another ant dares to challenge us!” One head scoffed.

“This one looks weaker than the last!” Another head hissed

“Begone demon, or share your fate with your putrid kind!” The third head warned.

As the dragon reeled his head back, ready to vomit green flames, Asmodeus waved a hand, engulfing the tri-headed terror with a blue magical aura. Before he could comprehend what was happening, a sharp pain coursed through his body, causing him to fail his head wildly.

“Graagh! What’s…happening… to me?!”

“Me? N-Not us?!”

“Naagh! We’re… I-I-I’m pulling away!!”

Torn flesh echoed, the alchemy that binds the dragon together unraveled, and the three drakes ripped apart.

Mortis paused his reaping of Seb’s head when he felt his mental control over Andrei shatter. His eyes dilated, appalled to find his most vital asset now a mere three skeletal dragons. “What? How did they—Aaagh!!”

This opening was what Seb needed to draw out his matted metal bat and hit a home run with the reaper’s head, sending him flying. His Onoma revealed he had stacked his chances of a critical hit with 72 against 64.

“And they said only angels get to play on the outfield,” the pinstriped devil joked before quickly joining his companions. His slime eyes glanced at the summoned archdemon and asked, “… Who the fuck is this?”

“Oh, that’s just Bella’s demon baby 'oo became wahn of the chuffin' sev'nty-two demon lords she can spawn through 'er succubi instincts wif in the cum in 'er cooch,” Moxxi explained casually. “We used 'im ter spitroast Andrei 'arder than a bathroom bimbo.”

“… Yeah, that makes sense,” the gambler huffed, too tired to even try to understand the logic behind it.

When the three separated lesser dragons rose back up and realized that their fusion had been undone, rather than stay and try to get revenge against their enslaver, the trio fled the premise into the abandoned city.

“Hey!” Arron shook his fist at them. “Come back and fight me, you cowards! I’m not finished with you!”

“Dude, just take the W,” urged Seb, hands keeping himself from falling over shaking knees. “They’ll probably die from the planet’s hostile environment anyway.”

“Hmph! I had them right where I wanted them,” the brawler pouted, arms crossed.

The pinstriped devil patted him on the shoulder. “Sure you did, champ.”

“Y’know,” Moxxi began while staring at Asmodeus. “As much of a pain in the crack ya 're, ya did come through when we needed ya.”

“Maybe this new power of mine won’t be too much of a hassle after all,” Bellatrix considered, tracing a finger over her scarred belly. She gave the demon prince a small smile and said, “Thank you, Asmodeus.”

“Happy to be of service, my liege,” he tittered as his corporeal form faded, returning to where he came. “Until next time~!”

The imp nudged the red-skinned succubus with her elbow. “And just fin'! That’s wahn aahhht of over sev'nty! 'oo knows wot sorta abilities ya can conjure up~!”

“Yes, that’s true.” Bellatrix rested her chin into her palm, already imagining the scenarios and uses Gehenna would have in her uprising as the queen of hell. Her face then turned sour. “Ugh, Dammit! Had I known all it took to gain such power was to fuck Zeloph, I would have chained him to my bedroom long ago!”

Their banter was interrupted by a rumbling behind them as the Glamorguis finally took off into the air. A pain tightened around them, knowing they would likely not live to see it return to take them home. Bella and Moxxi squeezed hands, taking comfort in each other’s company.

“Do not assume your friends have escaped my grasp,” the voice of Mortis called above, his tattered robes flapping in the gale, his shadowy aura flowing from his weapon and frail physique. There was a dent in his head from where Seb had struck him, nothing but darkness inside his fractured cranium. “They will not be spared. They will never be safe.”

The gambling demon groaned. “Look, Skeletor. We’re all very tired and wanna go home. What’s it gonna take for you to plop back into the hole you crawled out of?”

“The end of all life tied to the betrayer, Shadow Scythe,” the lich responded monotonously.

“Oh, give your 'ate boner a rest, ya crusty merchant banker!” Moxxi sneered. “Your lackies and dragon is gone, and ya already got your bloody revenge. Let it go!”

“I am no tyrant,” Mortis calmly declared, “The souls of Triad and Penny Dreadful are free to act on their own after the mission. And I always keep my word.” He opened his tattered black robes to expose his ribcage, where a pair of interlocked souls swirled alongside a multitude of others. “But the Ghosts of the Eldritch that ravaged Cerise’s world sacrificed themselves to empower me when I sought them in the Necronomicon!”

Arron pointed out, “Bruh, that book was thrashed!”

“They still seek the Demiurge! Once I’ve ripped it from Beatrix’s cold carcass, along with Zeloph’s soul, I’ll become unstoppable!”

“For someone who hates Shadow Scythe, you sound exactly like how she used to be,” proclaimed Bellatrix. “Maybe the presence of her soul has had more of an effect than you want to admit, Danse Macabre!”

“Don’t compare me to that filthy traitor!”

More emotion than he’d felt since he died spilled from the thin pale blue lips of Mortis, for he felt the repressed passion of Atalanta surface to of his clammy flesh, stretched thin across his skeletal presence. “I am the divide between breath and grave. The last of my order. It falls on my shoulders to maintain the natural balance. Such a journey is long and harrowing, but I will complete it. No matter how many souls must be sacrificed!”

Mortis pressed his assault, swinging his scythe and unleashing the full extent of his deathly magic to vanquish his foes once and for all. And despite being outnumbered, Bellatrix and the demi-humans were utterly drained of energy. They wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

Viscera understood this and patiently bided her time in the air for both parties to expend their resources to kill each other. It didn’t matter who stood victorious. In the end, she would reap the benefits!

Her chartreuse leer followed the ascending UFO until it had left the atmosphere altogether. “Hmph. I was hoping that the overgrown frisbee would be too crippled to fly. Oh well! I’ll come for them after I collect the scraps below.”

Her twisted smile stretched as Zeloph’s slumbering form was already undergoing its mutations, the higher altitudes speeding up the process.

“Such a pity you’re not awake to see all of your friends die~!”

Viscera cackled triumphantly as she flew higher, failing to notice how her prey twitched and stirred yet failed to awaken, for something had locked him in his dreams.

Deep within his subconscious, Zeloph was forced to relive the memories of his homeworld’s destruction. Everywhere he looked, fire rained from above to immolate the soil. The original nephilim titans, layered with a thousand eyes, trampled over the buildings and civilians, whose only crime was being human.

Once again, he fell to his knees, begging this madness to stop.

But something different happened. The background faded to pitch black, and the terror and screams were silent. Lifting his head, he saw Atalanta standing there, a pale gown waving around her lissome form.

Her words were inaudible, in spectral form, difficult to make out. But she was reaching for him, calling out to him.

Zeloph lifted and tried to run towards her, only for the distance to lengthen no matter how hard he ran. And just when their fingertips could touch, she was spilled away into the inferno and darkness.

“NO! ATALANTA!!” He cried out as everything whites out. Sound returned, and he could hear his breathing and heart racing out of his chest. But it wasn’t the only sound he heard.

All his hair and feathers stood on end upon detecting the familiar, horrible sound of an ambient pipe organ, its fortissimo resonating around the empty, heavenly void. His eyes dilated when he lifted his head, staring at a photonegative night sky full of prismatic constellations and black stars.

Accompanying that damnably loud instrument were other melodies and sounds. Woodwinds, strings, brass, chimes, processions, harps, and pianos. Along with a choir divided between singing and screaming.

His synthetic orchestra. A symphony conjured to appease Zeloph’s fondness for the art of music, yet lacking the heart and soul of a diligent musician.

As the seraphic angel rose to his feet, he noticed that his burgundy jacket and pants had been replaced by the royal white robes with topaz accents he formerly adorned. He was surprised to find the Vorpal Blade in his sash.

But all this grandiose and built-up lead to what Zell had already deduced was happening. Pearly gates opened with a booming sound as faceless souls and angelic abominations flocked in to take their positions in the operatic cathedral.

Zell held his glare at the blinding light and wallowing smoke, waiting for his inevitable arrival.

“Come on..!” He whispered harshly. “Come on, you bastard. Show yourself..!”

His unease spiked when a hand gripped his shoulder, and an all too familiar cadence spoke down to him.

“Such language is not permitted in my sanctum, boy.”

Zeloph turned around and gazed into the pallid visage forever scarred in his soul. Towering above everything else, grabbed in pristine white decorative regalia that fancied the likeness of a pope, a plethora of wings fanned out behind him, was the celestial being responsible for his descent into madness.

The scourge of mankind. The lifeblood of all demi-humans. The one Zeloph had once called his patriarch.

The Divine Father.

“Welcome home, Zeloph,” the otherworldly deity greeted with a hint of mockery. “It's been a long time since our last conversation.”

The fallen one scowled. “I have nothing to discuss with you, Metatron!”

An amused chuckle emanated behind the mask. “Is that what they’re calling me now? Another feeble attempt to shear off my influence on the unwashed masses.”

His brows furrowed, confused by what he meant, but a more pressing question demanded to be answered.

“How are you still alive? Ana and I… we killed you!”

“You merely banished me from the physical plane. Aside from this setback, my ideas and ambition have lived on. Thus, so have I,” the Divine Father explained, folding his arms behind his back. “I’m willing to admit I sorely underestimated you and your sister. You both have proven to be far more formidable than I initially perceived. But make no mistake. It won’thappen again.”

The seraphic demi-human stood his ground, hand over the Vorpal Blade’s hilt in a tight grip. “After all that time, you chose now to contact me? Why?”

“Hm. I never intended to reveal myself to you again,” scoffed Metatron. “After you ‘murdered’ me, I was satisfied in letting you sully yourself with those puny pedestrians you cherished so much. With the knowledge that you would carry out my will in spite, or perhaps because of your hatred for me.”

Zeloph’s vermillion gaze still harbored that same resentment while the primordial continued.

“But over eons, thanks to the efforts done prior to your conception, my real name goes unspoken by the common tongue. All the power I wielded greatly diminished, and my beloved sanctuary became a gilded cage. The only way mortals can still know and worship me is through a piece of myself I left behind. And even then, I can not fully guide them into orchestrating my triumphant return without shattering their fragile brains!”

It took the Fallen One a moment to put together what the Divine Father was getting at and gave a hollow laugh when it hit him. “Well, isn’t that ironic? The malevolent god, who failed to annihilate the people he deemed too stupid to live on their own, now relies on their belief to remain important.”

Metatron didn’t say anything, but he could tell his creator was bubbling with fury beneath his emotionless facade.

“Actually, no,” Zell continued spitefully, venom dripping off each word. “It’s worse than that. Losing a physical form wasn’t a problem. But being forgotten? Ohh, that’s a real bitch, isn’t it? You need humanity to believe your lies. Because without them, you’re nothing! You’re no god, Metatron. You’re little more than a tulpa with an inflated ego! A false messiah!”

“SILENCE!” The Divine Father commanded with a booming voice, the entire realm trembling under his power. Unknown forces crushed around Zeloph, who yelled from the untenable volume of the fake orchestra overwhelming his ears.

“I am an incomparable muse! And you..! You and the rest of your wretched kind have squandered my gifts. Which is why I come to you now, demanding you relinquish what belongs to me!”

“Aghk! So you are after the—!”

“Mikael’s Crucible holds the remnants of the original angelic order I created. That weapon is MINE by right! The notion that he would choose you as a worthy wielder baffles me.”

Metatron curled his finger to pull the struggling angel closer, his anguish reflected in the deities’ pallid mask.

“Every ‘fabrication’ of history I’ve woven pales in comparison to the blood staining your hands, Zeloph,” he reminded coldly. “Despite your proclamations to follow my footsteps, you still did so of your own free will.”

“I-I was wrong,” argued Zell. “In my arrogance, I took my anger out on the world for my friend’s death! That would have never happened had you not killed Jonn!”

The Divine Father shook his head. “If your friendship with Jonn really meant that much to you, why wasn’t it enough to absolve humanity of your wrath?”

“Wh-what? N-no, of course, it matters to me!”

“Ahh. So just less important to keep your promise to protect all Terrans!”

“That’s not true!”

“You turned your back on them. He betrayed his trust! Slaughtered BILLIONS!”

Tears stained Zeloph’s face as he wept, “I-I did..!”

“Then you ADMIT that Jonn meant NOTHING to you!”

“NO!”

Metatron clutched the angelic demi by his neck. “Do you realize how utterly mad you sound, boy? Look at the state that has befallen Sacratera! The place you called ‘home’! It was all set in motion the moment you renounced your servitude to me. And do you want to know why..?”

The angelic warrior tried to combat his words, shaking his head futilely as his cosmic maker leaned closer to whisper the insidious truth.

“...Because you were BORN to put an end to human life. That has always been your directive. You’re not a light meant to guide mortals out of darkness. You’re the very pyre that scorched the earth! Everything you touch turns to cinder and ash!”

“No… lies..!”

Metatron’s cruel laughter echoed throughout the heavenly realm. “You know it is true. You nearly erased everyone dear to Princess Cerise during your crusade on her homeworld. You failed to arrest Varys and his abominable successor. All your attempts at ‘heroism’ will always lead someone to their death. Innocent bystanders. Jonn. Quicksilver Bullet. Not even the woman you loved could be saved!”

Zeloph’s visage twisted with anguish, the image of her dying in his arms burning behind his tightly shut eyes.

“Your precious Atalanta. Slain. By the blade she gave you. Now that is deliciously ironic~!”

When the Divine Father released his grasp, Zeloph dropped to his knees and wallowed in despair. “… You’re right,” he choked quietly, sadness and guilt spilling onto the ground. “I can’t save a single soul. No matter what I do...”

“Yes,” encouraged Metatron, the bottom of his robes coiling around the demi-human like snakes.

“I-I’m not a hero. I’m not anything…”

“Yeess!”

“I’m just… unworthy.”

“Yeeesss, 𝓖𝓞𝓞𝓓, Zeloph! You finally see yourself for the insipid weakling you’ve become. I’d almost say I’m proud of you. Now…” The Divine Father extended his open palm. “Give. Me. The Crucible!”

Zell, shaking, pulled out the shimmering blade, feeling it tremble in his grip. Felt it glow hotter the closer it got to Metatron. Then, just when it was within reach, he stopped.

“… But…”

The seraph’s slumped shoulders went firm, and his eyes narrowed.

“… they still loved me..!”

Before Metatron could snatch the blade, Zeloph reeled back his arm, standing to his feet.

“They still believed in me. My family. My friends… they’re counting on me!”

An angry snarl ignited behind the godly entity’s pale mask. “Fool! You’ll only bring them to their demise. Leave them to burn inside a collapsed house while you walk away unscathed!”

“Unscathed?!”

Embers and sparks of light flickered around the fiery angel, strength returning to his voice. “I am the Fallen One! I will always be beyond redemption in the eyes of the many I’ve wronged. I am paying for my mistakes! But the worst sin I could ever commit is if I punch my ticket and give up now! I caused this suffering! And I will make it right!”

Heat and illumination forced the Divine Father to shield his face, robes flapping with the gale blowing against him. Zeloph’s swan-shaped plumage unfurled, each vermillion eye glaring defiantly at him.

Zeloph aimed the glimmering Vorpal Blade at Metatron and continued. “You think you’re some poetic genius, Metatron. But I see through the angelic camouflage for the hack you are! You are forsaken—starved by the very ‘weaklings’ you sought to ruin! Because you couldn’t stand how unbreakable the human spirit is!”

“That’s enough out of you, boy! Hand over the sword, or this sniveling bark shall be your last!”

“NO! I will NOT!” He shouted back, slashing off the accusing hand of the Divine Father, who bellowed with outrage. “You no longer have power over me! So long as I draw breath, I will live on to defy you! In the name of everyone who has fallen before me! So go ahead! Throw everything you’ve got at me, you faceless, spineless FUCK!”

His glare narrowed on the bloodied sleeve as a differently shaped hand formed from the Divine Father’s wound. Darkened skin with elongated golden nails, not unlike Layla’s.

“You 𝓓𝓐𝓡𝓔 strike back at me?!” Metatron roared. “I, who taught you. Raised you! TRAINED you! I shared with you all my power and knowledge! But the only thing you cared about was your worthless little FRIENDS! I AM YOUR 𝓒𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓣𝓞𝓡! 𝓘 𝓜𝓐𝓓𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤!! 𝓐𝓝𝓓 𝓘 𝓒𝓐𝓝 𝓙𝓤𝓢𝓣 𝓐𝓢 𝓔𝓐𝓢𝓘𝓛𝓨 𝓤𝓝𝓜𝓐𝓚𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤!!!”

The realm and angelic creatures around them quake under the cosmic might the Divine Father called forth, ready to smite his rebellious offspring once and for all. But before they could react, the Vorpal Blade rose from Zeloph’s hand, filling the pale void with blinding light.

When the brightness dimmed, the seraphic demi-human gasped, startled by the bizarre alien creature that stood in place of his sword. It looked like a wolf with bristled blondish-white fur and six magnificent wings flared open from its mane and shoulders. It bared its fangs as it growled at Metatron, each multicolored eye with ringed irises fixated in an intense glare. It stood defensively in front of Zeloph.

“Wh-what?”

“Michael?!” The Divine Father exclaimed with bewilderment. “But you’re—”

The heavenly beast snarled as it pounced on the Divine Father, mauling the priestly figure. Metatron struggled to pry the angelic lupine off, its claws and teeth fixed onto his front. Only when the wolf tore off his face did it leap back?

“NOOOOOO𝓞𝓞𝓐𝓐𝓤𝓤𝓤𝓗𝓗𝓗!!!”

Zell observed the sanctum gradually grow dark, all the instruments and heavenly abominations dissolving into metallic goop. He flinched when the wolf dropped the blood-stained mask from its soaked jaws.

The two watched as the Divine Father knelt, seething while he covered his unveiled visage while liquid seeped between his hands. Then, all at once, his form began to change.

The godly entity’s white and gold regalia gradually dissolved to reveal yellow robes. His many wings wilted like flowers, save for a pair of black plumage with a leathery membrane between the secondary feathers. The bottom of his attire extended to form violet cephalopodic tentacles with eye-shaped rings, fully fused to the mass. The miter fell off, replaced by a long hood. And above his head shined an eclipsed halo shaped like a crown.

Zeloph was completely perplexed. “What in god’s name..?!”

A disembodied voice, assumingly Michael’s, spoke. “Your chicanery ends here, great pretender. You’ve conducted your shallow scheme to its finale. Now take your bow, and leave.”

The strange imposter slowly rose, appearing taller than before. His shoulders shook as he began to laugh. “𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓲𝓽’𝓼 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻? 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓷!?”

When he removed his hands, Zeloph gasped when he saw… nothing. No face or features are visible underneath the hood—just perpetual darkness.

“𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮,” proclaimed the entity. “𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮, 𝓘 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓜𝓲𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓮𝓵! 𝓜𝔂 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓮𝔀!”

The wolfish archangel snorted. “I know. But I much prefer this over your imminent victory.”

“𝓢𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓲𝓽.” The mysterious figure then gestured to the distraught demi-human. “𝓐𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓩𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓹𝓱. 𝓞𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮, 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾. 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝔂 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓶!”

Inky darkness fumed from beneath the perpetrator’s robes, enveloping his towering form in miasma as he delivered some parting words,

“𝓙𝓾𝓼𝓺𝓾'𝓪 𝓬𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓸𝔂𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼!”

With a final mocking cackle, the being formally known as Metatron vanished, leaving a mortified Zeloph alone in the empty void with his lupine savor.

“Well… this is going to be an interesting tale to my therapist,” the demi dryly surmised to alleviate the intense scene.

The tension didn’t die when Michael turned to confront him, growls still stirring from his snout. Zell winched, waiting for the beast to lunge for his throat… only for a long tongue to lick his hand. While weird, the gesture helped unwind the seraphic angel, who petted the wolf’s head.

“So… are you really..?”

“Yes,” the voice answered. “I am the archangel, Michael. First in the Order of Heaven. And your ancestor. I have been watching you since you first came into contact with my Crucible. Testing to see if you were truly worthy to join the pantheon of champions before you.”

Zeloph’s winged ears flattened a bit, biting his lip in shame. “I think I can guess what the final verdict is…”

Michael chuckled, then confessed, “I will not lie. I was convinced ‘the Divine Father’ had successfully tricked you into giving up the sword. But then, you got back up and stood your ground. In spite of all the tragedies you faced, the backlash you absorbed, and the grievous loss you suffered, you remain steadfast, valiant, and compassionate. That is what makes you a worthy champion.”

The fallen one was stunned by what he heard, tears forming underneath his eyes. “S-so then… I’m—?”

The heavenly beast nodded. “You have passed all my trials, Zeloph. There is but one thing left to do.” Michael walked past with padded feet, pausing to jerk his head. “Follow me.”

With bated breath, he followed the archangel, the darkness giving way to trees, vines, and other botanic wonders that made up Sacratera’s vast wilderness.

If Zell was quiet enough, he could detect the faint sound of a melody resonating around them. It was as if the very earth he walked on sang to him. And before he knew it, they approached the foot of a mountain, its peak hidden up in the clouds.

A sharp pain throbbed in his chest, making him yowl and stumble. The rhythmic pulsating sensation returned as he felt his body contort under the effects of the atmosphere.

“Naauuaagh!!” He cradled his arm, watching it mutate with feathers and scales.

“Keep going,” Michael’s voice encouraged within Zell’s skull, the wolf now standing over a smooth rock. “Do not resist.”

“Wh-what? But I’ll—!”

“You must allow your ‘demihood’ to help your body conform to this environment. Embrace every aspect of who you are… and rise!”

Tentatively, Zeloph pushed himself back up, doing his best to bear the pain while moving onward. With every tentative step up the mountain, he felt new extensions of his limbs and wings spread out. His clothes were cast aside once his stark plumage settled in, copying his arms and legs. The pulsing sensation even began to slow down until its tempo was one with his heartbeat.

And before he knew it, Zeloph had been thoroughly transformed by the planet, resembling the fabled phoenix. Six wings tipped with sunfire unfurled to lift the radiant avian into the air, able to efficiently sail to the summit.

He and Michael raced each other towards the mountain top, soaring through a sea of clouds until peaking into the hemisphere. The skies were painted in various colors, thousands of stars twinkling far in the distance while the sun’s soft glow glimmered across the horizon.

Zeloph marveled at the view before descending to where the mountain pinnacle peaked through the clouds. The moment he landed, in a flash, his body regained its more humanoid shape, panting as if he was coming up for air after a long swim.

Circled him stood the monolithic statues of all the previous wielders, each holding up their version of the Crucible. Some figures he recognized, such as Arthur Pendragon with Excalibur. Others he couldn’t believe were there, like Red Riding Hood, leaning on the woodman’s axe. And then, of course, there was Alice Wonderland herself, poised with the Vorpal Blade.

A short while later, Michael’s wolf form caught up and sat by the sculpture that captured his likeness. A wavy-haired man, adorned in sapphire armor and red cowl, with six wings, unfurled from his back, saber planted blade before him.

“Welcome to the Animarium,” his voice rang between Zeloph’s ears. “The heart of the Crucible, where all champions begin and end.”

“It’s so beautiful,” he admitted aloud, absolutely spellbound. “Wait… what do you mean by that?”

“I’ll explain momentarily. But before I do, there’s something you must know about ‘the Divine Father.’”

Zeloph furrowed his eyebrows and nodded. “You’re telling me! I don’t understand. Why is Metatron back? And what was that form?!”

“Up until now, you’ve never seen what he looks like,” answered Michael. “Metatron is yet another false alias we used to protect humankind from becoming associated with the cosmic horror who created us. We dare not speak his real name, for it alone grants him subliminal power and authority. There’s only one title we can safely address him by…”

The fallen one’s face gave way to horror once he proved together who the archangel was talking about. “… the King in Yellow!”

The heavenly lupine lowered his snout.

“That’s insane! The origins of heaven and hell. The mere concept of religion itself. Every angel, devil, and demi-human! It all ties back to the Unspeakable himself?!”

“I wish it were not true,” lamented Michael. “But the King in Yellow has been intertwined throughout our history. Quietly masquerading as ‘god’ to beguile mankind with the promise of heaven after death, should they devote themselves to his terrible magnificence. In reality, there is no such place. Only his eldritch kingdom of Carcosa.”

Zeloph clasped his head, unable to fully wrap his head around this inconceivable development. So much was going on; everything was spinning. The urge to vomit was rising in his belly.

“Do not fret,” the archangel reassured. “He-who-shall-not-be-named is detained and can’t act outside his dimension. Very few believe that the King in Yellow exists, as he can use a sole version of his eponymous play to infest their minds. The longer it stays that way, the more time we have to prepare. So please don’t concern yourself with him yet. There are more pressing matters at hand.”

Zeloph heaved a large sigh before nodding his head. “Right. What must I do?”

“To utilize the Crucible to its full potential, you must partake in a sacred pact called the Luster Pledge,” answered Michael. “Your soul will be eternally bound to the weapon. Upon drawing your last breath, your spirit and essence will belong here so that the chain of champions may continue, and the Crucible’s power can pass on to another.”

The demi’s eyes widened. “So the Crucible is also to be my tomb?”

“It is your choice to make,” the heavenly beast concluded, bowing its head. “But should you take the pledge, your deeds, and accomplishments will be immortalized for future predecessors to aspire to. Will you make the sacrifice needed to save lives?”

Zeloph stood silent, thousands of thoughts and anxieties racing around his mind. Of course, such incredible power would come with a caveat. So much had happened within the short span of several days. Fighting alongside Shadow Scythe, Ana, and their friends. Encountering and befriending more of his kind. The ongoing battles with Mortis, one of which cost his lover her life. Learning the truth about his origins, which tied back to two mythical figures of history. One is a benefactor of good, the other unspeakably evil. All while chaos and darkness threatened to tear the multiverse apart.

One thought he came back to was the conversation he had with Beatrix. About encouraging her to make the right decision, no matter the cost. Would she not expect him to do the same..?

The seraphic demi-human took a couple more moments to consider before exhaling. Looking up at Michael with conflicted cerulean eyes, he nonetheless gave his answer. “… I’ll do it.”

The archangel reclarified, “Are you sure? Once the Luster Pledge commences, there is no turning back. All paths you chose will end the same.”

“I am,” Zeloph said in aplomb, a sad smile gracing his lips. “Jonn always told me to be a simple man. Live life to its fullest, and help whoever I can along the way. He probably didn’t have this in mind, but… I feel this is what’s best suited for me.”

With his decision made, all the statue’s eyes opened with spiritual light, archaic energy flowing through an interconnecting series of runes that led to where the demi stood. The heavenly beast disappeared as Michael’s statue followed suit. The Crucible’s previous forms spun around him, providing brief glimpses of every man, woman, child, and creature before him.

Michael’s voice resonated throughout the entire realm of the Animarium, invoking the sacred pact.

“Reforge thy weapon of everlasting might…

Fly swiftly on sovereign wing…

Cleanse the wicked in your ardent light…

And be crowned anew, as Aether King.”

“Aether… King? M-me?”

“Shed your reputation as the Fallen One, and embrace who you were meant to be.”

“I… I-I will!” Zeloph cried out as the ethereal weapons swirled faster and faster, the world around him fading into the overwhelming light that enveloped the newly dubbed Aether King.

“One more thing before you awaken,” Michael’s voice beseeched as it grew distant. “If you ever encounter my sibling, tell Lucifer… I love them. And I forgive them.”

With a nod of his head, Zeloph closed his eyes and allowed the Crucible’s light to envelop him while wholly, his newfound purpose bringing the seraph to exaltation as he reentered reality.

Viscera released a startled screech at the sudden harsh light and heat radiating from the angel’s body. “Aghk! Wh-What’s happening?!”

Her captive became brighter and hotter, forcing her to let go of him when it seared her talons, drawing attention from all over. Bellatrix, Analise, Seb, Arron, and Mortis calmed their fighting, mesmerized by the spectacle.

Two large wings with closed eyes emerged from the brilliant illumination, followed by four pairs of narrower plumage. Zeloph was revealed in all his exalted glory as the light died down, fiery mane flickering upward. His gray complexion is now completely alabaster, the markings glowing with vibrant cosmic energy. His sunflower-tipped tail had lengthened, as did his feathery ears. The angelic demi opened all his eyes, taking in his apotheosis with absolute awe.

“Whoa! I’m… I-I feel… This… feels good!”

Tears of joy ram down Ana’s face. “Zelly! He made it!!”

“And my man’s exalted!” Arron added excitedly, fist-pumping the air. “Let’s fucking go!!”

“That son of a bitch,” Seb whispered in astonishment. “He actually pulled it off!”

Bellatrix was momentarily stunned before a smile crossed her lips. “If Shadow Scythe could see you now..!”

“Inconceivable!” The black-shrouded reaper glowered, his shadows deepened by the amount of light illuminating the area. “Where did all that power come from?!”

“No… It’s not possible!” Viscera hissed in disbelief, arm shielding her eyes from his annoying brightness. “You should be a feral beast! How did you—?!”

Zeloph turned to address the avian monstress in a caustic fashion. “Are things not going the way you planned, Viscera? I’m surprised by your lack of foresight. Even Varys wasn’t this disorganized!”

The villainous nephilim smiled disparagingly at that little jab. “You think you can get under my skin? Don’t make me laugh! Where was this dazzling display when your sweetheart was bleeding from the inside out~? So much for true love—Darragh!?”

Her insult didn’t get too far when the exalted angel flashed forward to land a punch powered by the fury of a thousand suns. Viscera shot through a building, which collapsed on top of her. It took the discombobulated harpy a moment to emerge from the rubble, sorely dazed with sharp gasps wheezing from her bloodied mouth.

Zeloph hovered downward with an intense glare, cracking his knuckles. Viscera returned his gaze and lifted herself, orichalcum bones extending from her wrists. She violently shrieked, “I’ll tear your soul apart for that!”

“No,” he retorted as he called upon the Crucible in its splendor, retiring the flimsy needle-shape of the Vorpal Blade for a proper turquoise saber with angelic wing decorations, anointed with sun fire. He then held it with both hands to split it in two, dual-wielding the heavenly sword. “You will bathe in the fires of absolution!”

Thus commenced the aerial bout between the Vile One and the Aether King, who danced around with brisk speeds beyond light’s reach. Yet no matter his chosen angle, Viscera could deflect with the dexterous bones ejecting out her body. It became apparent the two were roughly on par as they duked it out in the skies.

“Is this the reason they demanded your execution?” Mortis murmured to himself while observing the fiery seraph in the distance. “No matter. Only I may claim such fervent power!”

But before the death-sworn wraith could join the gray above, he hissed when hellfire scorched his tattered cloak and flesh, skin sizzling over his bones. His spectral green eyes narrowed on the she-devil and demi-humans, warning them, “Stand aside! I’ll deal with you later!”

“You’ll deal with us now!” Bellatrix declared with balled-up fists soaked in fire and brimstone. She, Moxxi, and Arron sailed skyward to confront him head while Seb summoned the last of his arsenal to fire from below. If only to buy Zeloph a little more time.

Meanwhile, the ongoing battle between the seraphic demi and the bilious nephilim caused more destruction across the ruined cityscape. Dust, steel, fire, and smog kicked up in their wake.

Eventually, Zeloph’s advanced speed became too much for Viscera to keep track of, yowling from the Crucible’s immolating bite. She struggled to land a hit in either, the corrosives shot from her tail countered by beams of lights fired from every eye adorning his plumage.

Her foe proved nigh untouchable as well! Every attempt the avian monstress made to get close and piece the angel’s flesh with her poisonous talons was swiftly evaded or, at one point, blocked. Zeloph caught her hand and firmly sundered it with a tight squeeze.

“NNNEEERRAAGH!!” Viscera screeched, reeling back while grasping her fractured hand. With malice, she soared around and breathed out toxic gasses to envelope her prey to impair his senses. Then she cast her Onoma to trap him in a cocoon of meaty carrion moss.

For a moment, nothing happened, and the beldam began cackling in victory… only for streaks of light to penetrate through the rancid sack. Her makeshift prison instantly exploded, layers of seared blight splattering the dilapidated buildings while Zeloph flew out with only a few purple blemishes.

The nephilim balked. “What?! No!!”

“Your festering rot will fall before my cauterizing blades!” The Aether King boasted.

Channeling more of Apollo’s fire through the Crucible, the fiery seraph crossed his sabers and soared through Viscera, who bellowed as each slash sang her flesh. No quarter was given to allow Viscera a chance to put up her bony defenses. With his adversary discombobulated, the Aether King flash stepped beneath and ascended with a spinning strike, slicing through the Vile One like a fiery tornado. Finishing his combo was a cross of flames that blasted the beaten harpy through the tallest tower in the area; the structure collapsed with a thunderous boom.

Panting hotly, Zeloph disenchanted his Onoma, remerged the Crucible into one, and descended upon the heap. Viscera lay bloodied and broken when the dust settled, wings bent at crooked angles. Steam hissed out of her fresh wounds, clothes burnt, and skin charred. When she felt the scorn of her enemy’s stare, for once since hatching out of her biomechanical egg, the wicked beldam felt fear clench her frantically beating heart. “N-N-No, please! Spare me, Zeloph! Please!!” She pleaded with a shaky voice.

His glare hardened. “Spare you? Like how you spared the many you tormented and ridiculed? How about those you left infected and defiled in your wake? Did you spare them!?”

“I-If you let me live, I’ll reform! Y-Yes! I-I’ll even go back and cure them! P-Promise!” She lied blatantly, desperate to survive her predicament. When he stepped forward, she clumsily stumbled back, groaning from the pain coursing through her limbs.

Realizing she wasn’t going anywhere, Viscera broke into pathetic sobs, a feeble ploy to pull on his heartstrings. “Ah-haaah… please! Please don’t kill me! Have mercy..!”

Her wept became whimpers as Zell pressed the tip of his blade at the base of her neck. Cold cerulean eyes gleamed as he told the sniveling nephilim, “My heart is full of mercy… but none of it for you!”

Ghoulish flashes snapped his attention back to where the UFO took off, where Mortis released the full brunt of his black arts on his allies. A multi-soul draining spell the Eldritch bestowed upon him to help the lich’s quest in reaping all life. His four opponents screamed, knocked to their knees, color, and age rapidly siphoned from their skin. Wisps of their essence rushed from the defeated demons in threads that zapped into the reaper’s ribcage.

“Your resilience is a fool’s errand,” said the reaper stallion. “All life must be allowed to die!”

Zeloph’s dormancy reignited as he took wing, aware that by leaving Viscera behind, she was guaranteed to recover and cause further harm. But he wouldn’t allow the lich who took his beloved’s life to do the same to his friends!

At a brisk pace, the Aether King appeared before the undead stallion and swept him away with the Crucible. With their foe momentarily knocked out, the spell immediately broke, much to their gasps of relief.

“Nice save,” Seb wheezed, holding himself up by his trembling arms before Zell helped him and Arron. Ripples of light ran through them from his fingers to cleanse their ailments and rejuvenate their stolen energy.

He did the same for Bellatrix and Moxxi, the latter nuzzling into his chest affectionately. “Always knew you’d come ter me rescue~! reminds me of a wet dream I 'ad where ya washed me up in a bathtub before—!”

A soft chuckle passed his nonvisible lips. “You’ll have plenty of time to fantasize about that afterwards.”

Once the imp felt healed enough to flutter on her own, Zeloph used the Crucible to open a cross-shaped rift, a glimpse of the Glamorguis’ biotechnological interior from the other side. “Go! Hurry while you still can!”

Arron questioned. “But what about Mr.Bones? He’s still—”

“I’ll handle him,” insisted the seraphic demi. “He won’t rest until everyone we know is dead. But you're need back on the ship. Help Layla and Julianne while it can still fly!”

The two male demi’s stared at each other uneasily but understood that they would be in the way. Seb approached him and held up the last card in his deck. “Take this,” he urged. “I think you’ll know when to play it.”

Zeloph accepted it and nodded. “Thank you.”

With a tip of his hat, the gambler leaped through the portal while the burly bull-headed demon held up his fist to Zell. “Give him hell, twink!”

The gesture was returned, and he, too, fled into the rift as well. He then cast his gaze on his sister and the she-devil. “What are you doing? You need to go now!”

“Not a chance in hell am I lettin' ya face Jack Skellington’s demented cousin by yourself!” berated Moxxi.

“She’s right, Zell,” concurred Bellatrix. “This isn’t a fight you alone can win. Nor can we afford to lose. There’s more at stake now.”

The exalted demi then noticed her exposed stomach, his eyes widening to find the protective rune no longer active. “Bella, what did you do..?!”

“What I had to,” she said firmly while pinkish red tinted her cheeks. “What I said still stands. I will become queen of hell and win Alma’s heart. However… I won’t deny I’ve grown rather fond of the demi-humans. I feel completely in my element when around them. And you. So… perhaps we could arrange something together? T-That is, if you’re not opposed to the idea…”

Again, she primarily directed this at Moxxi, aware of her complicated feelings for her brother. But the imp gave a cheeky laugh.

“Bloody hell! Ya didn’t 'ave ter go that far if ya wanted ter to upgrade our relationship wif more kinks~! I’m 'appy ter be a part of your life!”

She fluttered up to give the red-skinned demoness a hot smooch that brightened her blush. Turning back to Zell, the neon demoness asked, “'a abaht it, Zelly? Wanna 'elp Bella raise a lil' 'ell~?"

Before he could properly answer, all three drew their attention back to Mortis, who rose with light grumbles. He cracked the joints of his neck while focusing his ghastly gaze on the trio as the portal closed behind them. “Ahh… So the damned now welcome their fate!”

As Bellatrix took a stance and Analise retook her full figure, Zeloph stepped forward with the Crucible ready, glaring intently at Atalanta’s executioner, sensing her soul within the lich. “The only thing I welcome is Atalanta’s release from your undying grasp!”

A dry chuckle rattled out his jaws. “Her death was no release. It was penance! You were my instrument in ending the betrayer’s life. And soon, you will join her in death. A poetic conclusion for a pair of irredeemable mass murderers.”

“You’ve taken and doomed far more lives than any of us combined,” reminded Bellatrix bluntly.

Mortis shook his head. “I go wherever souls are adrift. From the ground, they came, and to it, they returned. That world was always destined to die. So too will the planet we stand on.”

“Cut the bullshit,” snapped Ana. “Ya took 'er soul and Onoma! Ya 'ren’t playin' the bleedin' neutral card on us! Not when deep daahhhn in those gritty bones, ya relished every Cock Linnet of watchin' 'er writhe loike the sadistic fuck ya 're!”

The undead unicorn scowled, spectral orbs glimmering brightly. “Yes! I will confess; I wanted to prolong Atalanta’s torment until she ended herself. But your interference was a stroke of fortune! Love is the gravest sin of all. And through it, she died with the bitter awareness that her beloved angel had let her down—”

Zeloph was upon Mortis in a flash, his guillotine-shaped scythe raised to block his heavenly saber. A screech of metal sounded, sparks flying as the sunfire burned brightly, reflecting its user’s rage.

“You killed Quicksilver Bullet!” He growled with conviction; angry tears lifted from his fiery eyes. “Made him lesser. Turned him against his only daughter! You selfishly took the lives and essence of everything around you! You’re not the personification of death, and you never will be! So don't you dare suggest I betrayed the only woman I LOVE when we both know for a FUCKING fact that YOU STOLE HER FROM ME! YOU LOATHSOME, PATHETIC PILE OF DEATH-WORSHIPPING GARBAGE!!”

The moment Mortis felt the edge of his scythe being pushed back against him, he spirited to a safer distance as a v of flames erupted from the blade’s path. A slight smile came to his thinned blue lips as he retook his stance, a rare feeling of excitement flowing through his empty veins.

Bellatrix and Ana glanced at each other with worrisome expressions, both aware that if Zell were pushed too far, he would be consumed in the endless cycle of vengeance. Still, they stood by his side, ready to aid the Aether King in his final dance with Mortis Solitaire.

To avenge Shadow Scythe.