Chapter 117: Chapter 117 - Gathering of Demon Generals ( Part 1 )
Further beyond the lands known to mankind...
Beneath the waters of the oceans no ship had ever dared to sail...
In the shadows of mountains blackened by wars fought many ages ago...
There lay the Demon Continent.
For one thousand years it existed but as a mere myth told in hushed tones by priests and scholars. Most people did not believe its existence.
They were wrong.
The Demon Continent had not fallen.
It merely waited.
Right in its center there was a unique mountain.
Mount Vharos.
It pierced the skies in crimson clouds which did not move.
Streams of molten obsidian ran down its slopes instead of lava.
The sky remained in eternal twilight bathed in light of black lightning.
On its peak there rose a fortress big enough for entire kingdoms to hide inside.
The Citadel of Eternal Night.
No sunlight had kissed its walls since the end of Great Demon War.
Deep under the fortress...
Below countless chambers, dungeons and ancient temples...
A pair of giant black doors rested in silence.
Both of them towered over fifty meters in height.
Carved into their surfaces there were ancient drawings.
Seven armored warriors kneeled in front of huge shadow.
Above them in demonic language unreadable for humans were the following words:
"The Obsidian Throne Hall".
The doors opened.
There was a sound of rumbling.
Ancient torches lit up on their own.
Violet fires danced around countless pillars crafted from polished obsidian.
The hall was of incomprehensible size.
Its ceiling lost itself in darkness.
Giant statues of Fallen Demon Emperors looked at everything with their lifeless eyes from each side.
In the center of the hall there was a circular room.
Seven huge thrones circled the black stone ground with a magic circle engraved on it, older than the age of humanity itself.
Each of them belonged to one of Seven Demon Generals.
For one thousand years...
Most of them had remained unoccupied.
Today...
They would meet again.
The first of the figures already took his place.
Azrael.
The Second Demon General.
His black armor reflected the violet fires.
Contrasting with terrible presence he projected when facing his opponents, Azrael now sat motionlessly with a porcelain teacup standing next to his throne.
His crimson eyes kept looking at the empty room silently.
Patiently.
A demon attendant stepped closer with caution.
"My lord..."
"The meeting is about to start."
Azrael nodded.
"I know."
The servant immediately withdrew.
Even amongst demons...
Azrael inspired reverence more than fear.
Suddenly there was a violent explosion near the entrance.
The giant doors burst wide open.
The dark wind rushed through the hall.
Thousands of armored demons came marching forward in impeccable order.
Each of them had a black spear.
Their armor featured bloody claw marks on their chests.
Walking behind them there was a tall man in tattered black armor.
An enormous spear lay on his shoulder.
Every step he took broke the obsidian floor.
His crimson cape fluttered like alive flame.
His scarlet eyes burned in hatred.
The Third Demon General.
Draven.
He laughed loudly.
"So..."
"The old hall still stands."
His voice shook the hall.
Without waiting for permission, he fell into his throne.
"I’ve been waiting far too long for another war."
Azrael calmly sipped his tea.
"You’ve always been impatient."
Draven smirked.
"And you’ve always been too merciful."
Azrael said nothing.
After a while...
A stench of foul air crept through the doors.
The temperature dropped.
Black smoke began wrapping itself around the pillars.
Out of the darkness came an old woman walking with help of her twisted staff made from petrified bone.
Her long silver hair trailed on the floor behind her.
Around her there hovered dozens of floating talismans.
With each step she took, there echoed whispering voices through the hall.
The Fourth Demon General.
Morgatha.
Mistress of curses.
She smiled showing her unnaturally sharp teeth.
"How nostalgic..."
"I haven’t seen this hall in centuries."
Even Draven frowned.
"No one likes your magic."
She laughed quietly.
"That’s precisely why it’s effective."
She gracefully took her seat.
Suddenly...
The torches dimmed.
The whole hall blurred.
For a moment...
All seven thrones looked to be unoccupied.
And then...
There was a soft clap.
A young man clothed in elegant white clothes appeared right next to the fifth throne.
No one had noticed him entering.
His silver mask reflected the violet flames.
When he smiled...
There appeared five copies of himself in different spots of the room.
And then they vanished.
The Fifth Demon General.
Lokiar.
Lord of Illusions.
He made a bow with dramatic gesture.
"My apologies."
"I dislike using doors."
Draven rolled his eyes.
"You also dislike fighting fairly."
Lokiar laughed.
"Winning is what matters."
He vanished.
After an instant...
He was already sitting on his throne.
A deafening roar sounded in the mountain.
Something huge approached.
Its heavy steps shook the hall.
The gates opened wide.
A gigantic monster barged inside.
Its body resembled that of a lion covered in black scales.
Six scarlet eyes scowled around the hall.
On its shoulders there was a broad-shouldered warrior in dark green armor made from bones of monsters.
A giant axe lay next to him.
Following him were dozens of dragons, giant wolves and abyssal beasts which stopped obediently before entering the hall.
The Sixth Demon General.
Grom.
Commander of monstrous beasts.
He jumped off his mount and started scratching the monster behind its ears.
"Wait outside."
The monster did just that.
Draven laughed.
"You treat these things like pets."
Grom grinned.
"They’re more loyal than most demons."
He sat heavily on his throne.
The stone groaned under his weight.
Silence returned.
Now there were five Demon Generals in their seats.
One throne was still vacant.
The biggest.
The oldest.
It stood in the center of the circle and not like other thrones.
Crafted entirely from black crystal.
Seven huge chains bound it.
Divine runes were glowing faintly on its surface.
Unlike other thrones...
It was facing the others.
As if its owner used to rule over the rest of them.
Nobody sat in it.
Nobody dared to come close to it.
Even Draven’s arrogant smile vanished.
Lokiar stopped joking.
Morgatha lowered her gaze.
Grom folded his arms.
Azrael simply looked around.
The atmosphere changed.
An old demon attendant entered the room.
He kneeled before the vacant throne.
His voice trembled.
"My lords..."
"The preparations are completed."
"The ancient seal starts to respond."
All the Generals glanced at the chained throne.
The divine runes pulsed once.
A sound of heartbeat echoed through the hall.
Thump.
The mountain shook.
Again.
Thump.
The violet flames flickered violently.
Even the air seemed to recoiled.
Draven smiled.
"So..."
"He’s finally waking."
Azrael put his teacup quietly.
His serene face was now serious.
"For one thousand years..."
"The Seventh Throne had remained silent."
There was another heartbeat echoing through the Obsidian Throne Hall.
Louder than before.
The chained throne trembled.
The ancient seals glowed brighter.
And for the first time since the end of Great Demon War...
Each of the Demon Generals felt presence of the being who once ruled over them all.
The Seventh Demon General.
Sealed.
But no longer asleep.
The heartbeat had ceased.
Silence reigned in the Obsidian Throne Hall once more.
Nobody spoke.
Not even the violet fire that burned on the endless rows of pillars faded in front of the chained throne.
The Seven Seals remained faintly lit, their surfaces filled with divine runes that had been created during the Great Demon War.
For a thousand years...
They hadn’t weakened yet.
But tonight...
One seal was cracking.
Azrael placed his hands on the table.
Draven crossed his massive spear over his knees.
Morgatha hid her face and mumbled something in some forgotten curses.
Lokiar spun the illusory coin.
Grom didn’t even move.
Then...
The deep sound of a horn could be heard throughout the room.
The ancient council was about to start.
A single figure stepped out from a secret entrance behind the Seventh Throne.
Unlike the Demon Generals...
It was unarmed.
Its body was dressed in old black robes with silver symbols.
The face of the creature was hidden behind an ivory mask carved with the endless number of eyes.
An ancient stone tablet that had the size of a grown man lay in its hands.
The tablet was full of cracks, and golden veins that went through the stone softly pulsed, just as if the artifact was alive.
All demons immediately lowered their heads.
Including Draven.
Including Azrael.
Because the ancient oracle of the Demon Emperor was standing right in front of them.
The Demon Oracle.
The keeper of the prophecy.
The guardian of the forbidden history.
The Oracle started to speak in the deep voice.
Neither male nor female.
Older than anyone can remember.
"The hour has come."
"The prophecy is starting."
The huge stone tablet started to hover above the ground.
Symbols lit up on it.
None of those symbols resembled any language that was used in the modern world.
It belonged to the era before the kingdoms existed.
Before the Church came into existence.
Before the first kings of mankind appeared.
The Oracle raised one hand.
"The words that are carved on this stone..."
"...have never been wrong."
All Generals watched in silence.
The runes were changing positions.
The golden light started to fill the room.
Then...
The voice that didn’t belong to the Oracle could be heard from the stone tablet itself.
Ancient.
Majestic.
Just like the ancient history started to speak.
«"When the Markless Maiden bears the Twelve Divine Swords..."»
The whole hall shook.
«"...the blood of both light and darkness shall awaken."»
The prophecy finished.
The golden light disappeared.
Silence came.
Nobody moved.
Draven laughed first.
"So."
"The prophecy was true after all."
He got up from the throne, and the look of excitement filled his crimson eyes.
"The White Hunter."
"The girl named Jennie."
"The reincarnation of Leonis."
He gripped his spear harder.
"She must die."
His voice boomed in the chamber.
"We should march immediately."
"Burn every kingdom where she hides."
"Destroy every city."
"Search every forest."
"I don’t care how many humans die."
"But as long as the Markless Maiden dies with them."
His bloodlust filled the room.
The dark mana that surrounded Draven twisted into horrible creatures.
Nearby demon commanders lowered their heads in fear.
Draven grinned.
"If she dies..."
"...then the prophecy dies with her."
Morgatha shook her head slowly.
"You have only heard half of the prophecy."
Draven frowned.
"What?"
The old witch gently knocked her staff on the floor.
"Prophecies are rarely that simple."
Lokiar leaned backwards.
"And the death of the wrong person has a tendency to make the prophecy become true even faster."
Draven looked at him fiercely.
"You love riddles."
"I love survival."
Grom finally said something.
His deep voice sounded like distant thunder.
"The girl already possesses two Divine Swords."
"If she is indeed the one foretold..."
"...she becomes stronger."
"The longer we wait..."
"...the harder she becomes to kill."
Draven nodded immediately.
"Yes."
"So we must kill her now."
He looked at Azrael.
"You have met her."
"You know where she is going."
"Speak."
Silence filled the chamber.
All gaze was fixed on the Second Demon General.
Azrael was sitting in his place.
The teacup rested quietly next to him.
His face hadn’t changed yet.
He watched at the prophecy, which was carved on the ancient stone tablet.
Then...
He closed his eyes.
He remembered a lonely girl who smiled at the ocean.
He saw the young mage proud of her first perfect spell.
He saw a Divine Wolf calmly eating the dried meat.
He saw the campfire, the shared tea, and laughter.
He also remembered another smile.
A smile from a thousand years ago.
"If we meet again..."
"...then I hope that it happens in the more peaceful world."
Azrael slowly opened his eyes.
Draven frowned.
"Well?"
The Second Demon General answered calmly.
"I have nothing to say."
Draven hit his spear into the floor.
"You have become too soft."
Azrael looked at him without any anger.
"I have become patient."
Draven laughed coldly.
"Patience wins no wars."
And Azrael answered,
"Neither does blind hatred."
For a moment...
The temperature in the chamber fell dramatically.
Dark mana and crimson killing intent collided in silence.
Morgatha smiled to herself.
"Interesting..."
"The council is split in two."
The Demon Oracle raised a hand.
The invisible pressure disappeared instantly.
"This council hasn’t convened..."
"...in order to argue."
"This council convenes..."
"...in order to prepare."
The ancient stone tablet hovered once again over the chained Seventh Throne.
Its golden runes started to glow even brighter than before.
The Oracle’s voice became solemn.
"The Markless Maiden has woken up the first threads of destiny."
"The Divine Swords answer the call of the Maiden."
"The remaining seals become weaker with each sword she acquires."
All Generals looked at the massive throne that was encircled with divine chains.
The heartbeat started once again.
Thump.
One of the seven chains lit with crimson color.
A small crack appeared on its divine symbol.
The Oracle lowered its head.
"The era of waiting..."
"...has ended."
Meanwhile, far away, under the peaceful sky, Jennie, Snow, and Roxy continued their journey laughing over the new magic failure of the last one.
They didn’t know that, somewhere deep underground in the Demon Continent, their names were the subject of an ancient prophecy.
And they also didn’t know...
That each step to the next Divine Sword brings them to the awakening of the greatest enemy of the whole world.
