Achieving Heaven Through Hell Part 3: Only the Results

Chapter 26: Demiurge

Chapter 26: Demiurge

Sallos stormed into his ceremonial dressing room, the huge area resplendent with suits of armor and silk alike, the walls decorated with murals carved into the abyssal granite depicting his great deeds of eons past. His singlehanded conquest of the Baldricks, the antecedents of modern imps, in what would later become the Ring of Wrath. The bloody pacification of the proud Salamandrine, the only faction of native Hellions to retain relative independence. His brokering of peace between Lucifer's Fallen Host and the subjugated native Hellions, which would lead to the establishment of the Inner Circle and Hell as it was known today.

If he never saw the interior of this room ever again, it'd be too soon.

His entourage of demon priests were waiting for him, they genuflected and toadied and debased themselves, chanting as they prepared to commence the de-armoring ritual. Sallos had no patience for these pretentious, cloistered vermin at the best of times, and this was far from the best of times.

"Get out, all of you," he growled.

"But," gurgled the head priest. "Your armor, Your Excellency."

"I'll remove it myself," Sallos said, his voice a low, foreboding rumble within his helmet. "Get out now before I gut you all and decorate these chambers with your entrails."

The priests chattered like frightened monkeys for a moment. A moment too long. Sallos roared and flexed his aura in an explosion rage.

"Gͬͤ͗E̫͙̣͛̆ͮ̆̏͊T̸̝̗͍͒͋̌̆̓ͫ ̪̝̗̭̙̥̻̃̃͒ͨͭ̒̽O͖̔͝U̳̪̰͆͡T͐ͣ҉̝!̒͆͏͕̦̭̮̠ͅ"

The nearest priest was pulverized by the shockwave, reduced to a cloud of black, chunky, vile-smelling mist. The rest were knocked backwards, scattered like dry leaves, the abyssal granite walls cracking as the chamber shook. The priests got to their feet and scurried away from the enraged demon royal. The group neared the door when something happened. Any words that could define or describe what happened were either long-lost or cloistered away in the tomes of the angels themselves. It clawed away the sanity and souls of the priests in a single bloody slash of unreality. The priests fell to the ground, babbling and gibbering before melting away into puddles of vile effluence. Out of the thing emerged a stark white figure, gleaming with what might have been holy light in some long bygone era, but was now inexplicably tainted, defiled, and false. A pale imitation of the sweetness of God's love, saccharine but manufactured.

Sallos doffed his helmet and sneered. "Lucifer."

"Hey, Sally!" Lucifer chirped, hands folded neatly behind his back.

Sallos cocked an eyebrow at the disgusting puddles on the floor. "Was that necessary?"

"I figured you'd want some privacy," Lucifer said, smiling brightly. "Since we're about to discuss what's gotten you into such a tizzy."

"I communicated my opinions on the matter quite succinctly, if you recall," said Sallos, making a chopping movement at his throat. "I quit. That's all there is to it. Find someone else to root around for Uncle Jay-Jay's meat-suit, I'm done with you."

"Oh, Sally, Sally, Sally..." Lucifer chuckled and shook his head, his expression was unmoving but curdled somehow, becoming awful and eldritch. "My dear, sweet, deluded little minion. Aren't we forgetting just one teensy-weensy, but ever-so-crucial tiny, little detail?"

He was upon him in an instant, the shadow of his true form looming tall, the dark and cold about it so profound as to beggar the Abyss, his many, horrible eyes glaring down on Sallos with demented fury.