"How dangerous are they? The Sins."
Mephisto sighed, a lingering sense of frustration on his face: " As of now? The Sins are a two out of ten. But that's on the premise we find them immediately should they be released. If they grow up, then there could be a problem." And he smiled, chuckling. " Well, I don't have any intention to release those monsters. The Sixty-Six Seals will remain."
I wasn't so sure. I don't like the idea of losing control like that. And I had resonated with the aura being released by those seals.
"You don't necessarily have to worry, you know." He began again. " Even if the Seven Sins somehow manage to escape, they'll have no effect on you. You who hold the Abyssal Sins."
"And you?"
"I've got a plan. However, I'm not in the least bit interested in helping. I'd be more curious about what the angels would do. I'm sure it'll be alright… Maybe."
Scratching my head at the irresponsible answer, I sighed, finding myself unable to do anything.
I looked at him: "You know my luck and dare to say that?"
"Your luck is kind of shitty." he admitted, leaping to his feet, shrugged, and moved towards the door: " Get this land situated. Your son did a fine job, but the people believe in you, not him. He is a stand-in. And you need to rally your armies. Demons are easy to convince, but Devils aren't. They'll need to see benefits."
I glanced towards the cleric frowning, pondering his worth and loyalty. No. There is no loyalty in hell. There is only fear.
"You suspect war in Arcadia?"
He nodded. "The Seraph will delay until victory is assured. But war will happen. And Metatron is after your head. I won't be surprised if a squad of powerful angels will descend here to take your head. Anyway. Call me when you're done. We'll head to Eden once the Second layer is stabilized." He said, closing the door on his way out, leaving the room utterly silent.
"Who are you, Cleric?"
"I am the Dark Paladin, Droma, Wielder of the Oath of Fury," he said beside my bastard son, draped in obsidian robes. He appeared more like a cleric than a paladin.
"I see. How long till the prince is healed and conscious."
"He is conscious now, my Lord. You merely need to soul whisper." Droma responded evenly, the scent of brimstone weak around him.
He wasn't a demon, nor a devil. Rather he was a human, a celestial. But judging by his power, he was surely more powerful than me. But I can't tell by how much.
"How bad were his injuries."
Droma went silent for but a moment before he replied. " Had Prince Zaid been fully tarnished by the Hells, he'd have been fine. But had the Eighth Monarch not stepped in, he'd have died. Another hit, and his soul would have shattered. He's lucky."
Zaid is strong… but I don't want him to be a Shadowfell. And I suspect he doesn't want to be one, either. Not to mention the recent changes, I can already feel more restriction building against my bloodline. It's as if the universe itself is against me.
Was this Zariel's doing? Is it Tenebrae, perhaps?
"Who controls the laws of the Myriad Heavens? And don't say the Silver Devil. He merely enforces it."
Droma turned, revealing the horrors of hell. Half of his face had seemed to have been twisted, carved, and burned beyond recognition, leaving behind nothing more than charcoal that smoldered with the heat of the very hells.
"The Council of Omnis is a Council that came into being after the first war between Heaven and Hell. Divided between Order and Chaos, the Seraphim and Fallen carry Nine Thrones."
"Nine?"
"Yes. The Angels and Fallen came to a decision that nine thrones shall be presented for every layer of hell. A decision that benefited the Seraph."
The only way for the Seraph to benefit was if the Fallen couldn't work together. They're divided, unlike the Seraph.
"However, with the inclusion of the Shadow Proclamation. Things began to shift within the Council of Omnis. Before, if one wished to be included in the ruling of the Myriad Heavens, one needed power, and most of all, one needed an invitation from both the Seraph and the Fallen. But now any Pantheon can join, and each has a single seat with a single vote."
"A goddamn republic." I spat in disgust.
"Indeed. But it's the best outcome. Especially for the weak. The Shadow Proclamation is meant to push those that are weak up."
I glanced at him, resisting the urge to sneer, as that wasn't in the least bit true. It was meant to give the illusion of authority. But in truth, the moment any other pantheon appears within the Council, they'll be subjected to the Angels and Fallen. The Shadow Proclamation merely made things more political.
Great… Just what I need. More work.
"And the Shadowfell? Are they currently being debated in this Council?"
Droma nodded, a beyond hideous frown upon his charred lips: "Yes, I believe both Fallen and Seraph voted to restrict the bloodline of the Shadowfell."
I see. But these changes will only affect the next generation of Shadowfell. But seeing so many died recently. What difference does that make?
"Bastards." I spat, grimacing at such a foolish mistake. I should have been here. "How? When is the next meeting?"
"There is a meeting every day, my Lord." The Dark Paladin addressed, sweat billowing from his brow as my icy gaze pierced his.
"Everyday… What type of bull…AHHHHHH~" Bellowing, I glared at my bastard, that looked even more punchable than ever before.
How unfortunate.
Clenching my fist to hold myself back, I growled, sucked in a long breath, and folded my arms: "Ok… Ok… Everyday… I guess they talk about important shit, right?"
Droma was oddly silent as he shook his head, no: ' My Lord, you see the Fallen love to torture. So they'll bring up topics no one cares about, such as moral issues."
"...Moral issues? What's that?"
"His Majesty Lucifer recently brought up the banning of Slaves, which was immediately shot down after seven days of going back and forth. Such an issue is more of a local government or whatnot. It has no standing among gods. And sure, the Serpahs agreed with the Fallen, but everyone else disagreed. Who doesn't want a slave?"
So these tactics are used to waste time. Jesus Christ. I hate politics; even if it has monetary value, I need to pawn this shit off real quick: This is like a full-time job. Not my cup of tea.
"Ok, I—"
Pausing as a knock cut me off, I glanced towards the door as a ruby-eyed young man stepped in. Hair long and slender, face handsome with a devilish glint.
"Your Grace," the Young Devil bowed: "Soloman is here to see the Prince."
What fresh hell is this?
"Does he have an appointment?"
"No, but—"
"Then tell him to fuck right off. I don't have time. No… Shit. Where is belius? Those two are mortal enemies." I muttered, only to slap myself in the head: " Lead him to me. Next, summon both the King and Prince of Hell to the throne room. Not this little shit here. He's on standby."
The ruby eye devil bowed. Watching him take his leave, I sneered: "When he returns, kill him and his entire family. That little shit recognized me but did not even state his name. Foolish idiot."
…
…
…
I waited no more than several minutes before blood painted my entire vision as Droma moved with the laws of the very void. His attack landing without any gesture or intent. The ruby-eyed devil merely exploded in a shower of blood.
Beside him stood a frowning young man: Eyes a beautiful sapphire that burned with a seemingly everlasting flame. His hair was a snowy white, but it felt different from Zariel's; Solomon's hair felt as though it was aged as if he was ravaged by time.
"Why is it that someone always seems to die right next to me every time I visit these accursed Hells?" He cursed, spitting a glare at me.
Noting the lack of blood on his white robes, I shrugged: "It's hell. What do you expect?"
Solomon scuffed: "What was his crime?"
"Arrogance."
"In hell? I thought you'd like that." He said, his blue eyes glowing as if he were testing me.
Snorting, I said: " What is it you want that you had to barge in without an official audience."
"You know what I want: Demon King, Belius, the Bastard you—"
"Watch it, Soloman." I warned, narrowing my eyes." You might be a Fell God, but this is my territory. It'll be simple to have you killed. I'm sure you show respect to the Fallen of the Nine Hells. I expect you to show it to me."
"I—"
My hand rose: " Ariel is the only reason you are still standing. Now. Speak. Why should I give you one of my best generals?"
"He killed my daughter… my wife." Soloman spat, clenching his fist so tight blood dripped from his fingers. Sizzling through brimstone as its power burned with an almighty radiance.
That's awesome. I wonder if my blood can burn through the ground. No Arsene focus.
"The death of your family has nothing to do with me. I ask what can you offer me? I don't do shit for free. If you're willing to take Belius' spot, I'll give him to you. I'll even have him bark like a dog as I hand you his leash. I'll even throw in my son. He's a Snow. I'm sure he has value."
"I'M NOT A SNOW!!!!" The bastard barked, snapping his eyes open to my surprise.
'Arsene… Be nicer to Zaid.' Lily suddenly began. 'He is still family. And while you haven't publicly recognized him, you see potential, don't you? Stop treating him like a toy, or you'll regret it. Zaid is your son, you know. That's all I'll say."
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