While Zell was enjoying the company of his future in-laws, in the demon world, the dark ash rain everlasting in this bleak and horrible city.
Belzeth, Amon's former butler, was dragged down a set of dark stone steps leading to a bleak and macabre basement room.
His body was heavily beaten, and he knew he was about to face torture.
A cold chill began to fill his flesh, blood seeping from all over his body; two broken arms and his right eye torn out, still with a bit of flesh hanging from the infected crevice.
'Why... I always served you since you were a mere child...' Belzeth cried in his mind, unable to speak as they ripped out his tongue and fed it to the crows.
'That damn boy, why did he become so powerful! Curse you, half-blooded vermin, Zell Delacroix!'
He had failed to kill the demon boy Zell Delacroix; no matter his excuses, the fault was his own, and now he was paying the price. Belzeth's thoughts were filled with self-blame and frustration, wondering how a mere human that became a demon could surpass true demons, not those restricted by the accursed divines, fully powered whelps and imps.
'Their power shouldn't be this high; something is wrong! How could a regular half-demon easily kill so many demons? There must be a rule-breaker on the divine's side!' But Amon, my dear prince, why wouldn't you listen to my words, my plea!
Wishing his master would realize the issue, see past his wrath and desire for amusement, and would lodge this complaint with the demon council to have their patron goddess Amelia look into the divine's actions.
'N-nevermind... It is all worthless; this boy has become so twisted since killing the prince of lust... Zelgan was a smart man; why did he try to save that fairy planet which cost his life... Old friend, I hope you don't blame this old fool for choosing Amon's side; he is like a grandson to me...'
His broken teeth and bloody mouth tried to sound the words, "Even now", but only spluttering and flesh smacking sounded, causing the demons to drag him and punch him again, the pain of black demonic scales crushing his cheeks no longer causing pain; only feeling emptiness as his vision became dull.
"Shut up, you old bastard! You let our lord down, nothing but a lying traitor!"
Belzeth knew that his plan to kill Zell was naive and foolish; at the time, he thought it was perfect from the information he received from Zenovia's pawns and the spies in other camps; the boy should have been at the same level as a full-powered imp class demon at most.
He should have known better than underestimating the young boy's strength and power.
'I was so foolish....'
As he looked around the room, his mind was filled with regret and reflection, and he was dragged down the stairs into the basement of Amon's castle.
There was only one truth here, Belzeth had failed his demon prince, and now he was about to pay the price.
As he entered the room, Belzeth was struck by the dreadful atmosphere; even as a demon, he hardly saw scenes and places this dreadful, causing a chill to blow down his broken spine. The walls were rough-hewn stone, and the floor was slick with blood and bodily fluids.
'Such a horrifying place.' Belzeth thought, wishing this was just a dream; he would wake up in the next moment, simply with a cold sweat beside his beloved wife.
However, that wife was hanging before the castle, her body impaled from the crotch to her skull with a thick spear, after hours of being enjoyed by the low-grade imps until her mind was broken, merely remembering causing a single dry tear dribbling down Belzeth's distorted face.
'Malezia.... forgive this foolish old man! I will come to you soon.'
Belzeth came out of his stupor, only to be greeted with the thick air thick with the stench of death and decay as stray were-rabbits scuffled around the dark room; his stomach turned at the sight of the various torture devices that lined the walls.
'N-no, please... A quick death... I beg you...'
There were iron maidens with spikes that would pierce the unfortunate victim's body and racks with straps to stretch the limbs until they were torn from their sockets.
Belzeth could see-saws, hooks, and branding irons designed to inflict unspeakable agony.
The room's centrepiece was the large wooden table, stained dark black with blood. Chains hung from the ceiling, and various instruments of torture were scattered about the room.
Belzeth shuddered as he realized he was about to become acquainted with them.
Torches lined the walls, casting flickering shadows over the room, and the only sounds were the occasional drip of blood and the creaking of the chains.
Belzeth could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited his fate.
'Amelia, the goddess of war and slaughter, please guide this unworthy lamb into the embrace of his beloved once more; my sins and failures carried on my back to atone in my next life.'
Saying his final prayer before his mind broke completely, his eyes watched demons, the demons who had brought him to this room, grinning hungrily as they circled him, eagerly anticipating the coming torture.
Belzeth knew they would enjoy his pain, and he braced himself for what would come, no longer with regrets, until he heard the loud, penetrating steps; slowly, they came closer, like a bell that tolled in the distance.
A signal for Belzeth's end.
Suddenly, a door on the other side of the room creaked open, and Amon himself strode into the room.
'M-my lord... Amon!? Why come personally....' Belzeth felt a sense of delight and dread from seeing the handsome but fierce male standing in the bright passage; before it flickered to show his icy gaze, watching his former right hand as if looking at garbage.
His eyes glinted in the dim light, and his presence seemed to fill the entire space. Belzeth could feel his skin crawl as Amon approached him, his expression dark and foreboding.
"You have failed me," Amon said, his voice low and menacing. "And you know what happens to those who fail me."
Bang! Amon's elbow swung in a swift arc, the strike so fast that Belzeth couldn't even feel the wind until the blow had already hit him moments earlier.
"Aaaaaaaaaa!?" Belzeth couldn't speak, his tongue missing as a strange scream; a wail of pain filled the room, causing Amon to frown, lifting his foot at the now crippled Belzeth, one of his legs now smashed against the far black wall, crushed into flesh paste on the stone wall.
His body shuddered; an intense pain filled his body; then dampened by the insurmountable fear that Amon caused from his mere presence, no mana or aura used, just from his physical body and sharp eyes; looking down on Belzeth that began to convulse from the injury with a sneer.
"Why did you think that boy would die to mere whelps? If you were going to break the rules, causing Amelia to distance herself from me even more, then why not just send a fucking brute? Or a Noble?"
"...."
"SPEAK, YOU FUCKING USELESS GARBAGE!"
Belzeth could only nod helplessly and accept the wrath of his angry prince, knowing that there was no escaping his fate. There was no use for affection with the prince of slaughter.
All he cared about were results and victory.
Squelch! His powerful leg lifted into the air before smashing down on the remaining leg of Belzeth; he was only able to whimper as his bones were crushed into ashes, flesh into a disgusting stringy paste while it stretched and tore his skin.
'I am wrong.... my prince.... please....'
He watched as Amon surveyed the room, tired of his punishment, before his eyes lingered on the various instruments of torture with an almost loving gaze, like a man gazing at his first love, waiting on the bed without clothes.
Belzeth felt a chill run down his spine as Amon's gaze settled on him again.
"Take him to the rack," Amon ordered his voice like a death knell. "And make sure he feels every moment of his punishment."
Belzeth was lifted from the table and carried to the rack, where his limbs were stretched to tearing; along the rack were spiral-shaped metal spikes designed to create a wound that worsened the longer a person was placed on the rack, slowly bleeding out and dying.
He screamed in agony as the demons began their work, each blow sending waves of pain throughout his body.
As Amon began interrogating him, Belzeth's thoughts were jumbled.
He tried to understand what had happened and how he had ended up in this situation. But it was too late. The torture began, and Belzeth's mind was filled with pain and agony.
As the torture continued, Belzeth couldn't help but wonder how he had ended up in this position.
He had always been loyal to Amon, yet here he was, suffering at the hands of his former master.
But in this room of torture and death, it didn't matter how loyal he had been.
All that mattered was the pain that consumed him and the knowledge that he would never escape it.
The demons surrounding him seemed to revel in his suffering, their cruel laughter echoing through the room.
Belzeth's screams echoed off the walls, but no one came to his aid. He was alone in his agony.
Through it all, he couldn't help but obsessively think of Zell Delacroix, his thoughts turning into some curse as he repeated Zell's name repeatedly as if to endure the pain. His desire and hateful gaze only seek that half-blood hybrid bastard to die.
Belzeth had underestimated him, but now he saw the truth. Zell was not just a boy - he was someone who could match his prince in the future, a true enemy.
He wished he could turn back time and make a different choice. But it was too late for that now, as his body was torn apart, driven insane by the almost maddening sound of blood dripping from his mangled limbs as the demons and Amon left his dying body.
Alone in the pitch-black torture room as they waited for him to die.
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