Death is only the beginning, unless you are Nameless.
Condemned to spend eternity in Purgatory with the rest of the Between, Nameless is the most hated soul who never lived. After centuries of searching for a meaning to her dull existence, her answ...
Warning: Graphic violence described in this chapter.
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8
Hydra
The vehemence of my anger was almost unbearable. How had I lost to her?
No! Of course that wasn't correct. She had fled from me, frightened for her life, as she should have been. If only I was consented to fight her with my full power. Actually, Father had instructed me not to harm her at all, and I hadn't until the little bitch struck me. She started it.
I picked myself up from the ground, refusing to acknowledge any pain Kairos had caused me. I was better than her. The extents of her injuries were proof of that. I barely had a scratch on me. I ignored the blood streaming from my temple, the pinching throb in my wrist.
Human forms were so irritating, always needing nourishment, time to heal, and constant looking after. How I longed to drift free as a shadowy spirit, unseen by my enemies and my delicious prey. I had formed this lowly body from all the souls I had consumed. Father needed us in our strongest form, and solid was it, according to him. Of course, I had preferred this appearance spiritually as well for the five centuries I had existed, but spirits did not have blood flowing through their veins that could threaten to be spilt at any given second, causing the loss of precious life energy, nor could they receive physical injuries that could slow you down during battle. Demons naturally fought better through shadow and mist. Father was a fool for thinking otherwise.
A human form, he said. A slab of damn meat.
The portal crackled. Ah, right... the Underworld. Father was waiting for me. I dragged myself towards the fiery red portal, dreading speaking to Father and having to tell him that I had failed in my attempt to bring Kairos to him. I was seething in anger. I never failed at anything.
"No matter," I told the night. "I will either end up bringing her to Father eventually, or send her to Oblivion myself." I preferred the latter of the two, but to commit the act would go against the Demon Lord's wishes. Don't get me wrong, I held no loyalty to my Father. Hell, I would have obliterated the monster myself had it not been for one thing.
He was the source of my power.
Power, to me, was absolutely everything. My life's goal was to overthrow my father and become ruler of the Underworld, to finally rise up against the Gods and prove we were the better species, sink my teeth into their pampered , self-righteous souls. To do that, I would need power, and for the time being, Father was my only source of obtaining it. Now, again, please don't get me wrong. The Underworld would be my kingdom, and earth would be my playground. I had no intentions on taking over any of the godly realms, those sun-shiney places. I'd blow my brains out sitting amongst the boring plants and creatures and shit. I was a Demoness after all, and I quite enjoyed the pleaful screams of the tormented and the darkness of my beautiful realm. But most of all, I loved blood. Except not to drink like the vampires of folk lore – though the legend of blood suckers stems from my ancestors, the Tsalmaveth – I only ate the souls of living beings.
