"When I told you to come find me, I didn't think you'd interpret that as, 'later today'."
The Doom Slayer let out a dismissive grunt as Ajuka met his stride. It had been a good seven hours since preparations for his debut. Seven hours that had involved Serafall and her PR team brainstorming at a drawing board, recording him with an aural-imaging device, recording voice-overs, incorporating footage of the Slayer's battles, editing footage, compiling a few lengths of codex info, and finalizing the end-product. Now, all that was left of the whole ordeal was to tap into the media of every major government and time the broadcast such that every nation would see his debut at one time.
Fortunately, while that part of the debut would take an indeterminate amount of time to accomplish, the Slayer's presence was not required for it, and thus he and Tiamat had hastily left Serafall's studio, the Satan Girl only lightly protesting their sudden departure. He trusted that she wouldn't fuck anything up. He hoped his trust wasn't misplaced.
By the time they'd left the studio, night had fallen, and the Slayer was wont to spend his time productively. While he did want to create a map of Lilith's facilities, he felt it more appropriate to do that during the day, and since Sirzechs had granted him access to the Citadel's Private Library, he made it his number one priority to visit the room and begin his research.
That, of course, led him to Ajuka's office per the devil's request, where Tiamat conveyed the Slayer's intentions. Understandably, the Satan was caught off guard considering that he'd made the request to follow the Slayer in his informational adventures just hours earlier, more so because the two had basically just met, but at the moment, he wasn't too busy, even with the current interdimensional situation; Ajuka was in charge of everything technological, and thus wasn't as involved with political affairs as others. Now, here they were, an unusual group of three consisting of Primeval, Dragon King, and Satan walking side-by-side, the Slayer flanked by his companions as his boots fell heavily on the floor, Ajuka studying him carefully, Tiamat simply following silently.
The Slayer's eyes roamed the environment, taking in the vastly ostentatious embellishments of the massive hallways that he'd expected to be in Ajuka's office. Either Ajuka was really humble, or this sense of ornate grandeur was tradition.
The group passed by a number of men and women ranging from high and middle-class laborers garbed in the apparel of twenty-first century suit-and-tie office workers with the occasional, regally dressed manager or two standing among the rest, to guards outfitted in a type of ceremonial armor. Each and every one of the devils lost their shit when they turned and saw the Slayer, and more than a few of the guards prepared to swing their swords or thrust their spears, only for the Hellwalker to brush past them, Ajuka's presence stilling them.
"So, then," Ajuka started as they stepped into a seemingly mundane, out-of-place elevator, "what do you hope to find first out of this venture of yours? Not that I doubt that we will find anything. I'm just curious." He raised a brow at the Hellwalker as the doors closed metallically. The contraption began descending the many, many floors of the citadel all the way down to Basement-Level Three.
The Slayer didn't respond, didn't even move at the question. After a moment, when Ajuka grew weary at the Primeval's unresponsiveness, he saw Tiamat nod and realized through deductive reasoning that the Hellwalker was having one of those unseen, silent conversations that happened between master and familiar.
"Master is looking to find the ones responsible for stealing his technology first," she answered the Satan. "Since the Relics of Doom have been scattered across dimensions for millennia, it would be wise to begin research with the most recent and likely easy to track activity." She regarded him with an interested look. "You mentioned that the Blood Marines and Crimson Giants have only come into commission recently after the idea was first conceived a century ago?"
Ajuka nodded. "Correct. I was the one who approved of their use in private militaries. The ones who'd requested it were the clan heads of the Great King Faction. I will admit, I did overlook whoever authorized such a grand project. I am unsure of who it could be, considering that the Great King Faction loves to adhere to pure-blood supremacy."
The Slayer bristled slightly at that. Pure-blood supremacy? In a more modern society, an issue like that would be just a perspective, but here in this aristocratic society where power was everything? That certainly sounded like a bag of issues that he may have to deal with later, at least, if such antics brought harm upon civilians, which he was sure they did. It wasn't a problem to linger on now, though.
"... Say, Ajuka? Why help Master? I'm sure you have much better things to do with your time…" Tiamat inquired suddenly.
Ajuka smiled sheepishly. "Well, to be truthful, beyond making sure that whatever the Slayer finds doesn't bring about a crusade, I really just have an intrinsic interest in the Slayer's affairs."
Tiamat looked at him strangely. "... Since when did you start swinging for the other team?"
"I… excuse me?"
Tiamat laughed. "I jest, Ajuka."
The Hellwalker huffed when the elevator let out a metallic ring, indicating their arrival. Tiamat and Ajuka had taken to light conversation, reminiscing with one another about whatever activities they'd happened to undertake with one another in the past. The Slayer, for the most part, ignored them, instead focusing on his surroundings.
Immediately noticeable was the lighting of the basement level, or rather, lack thereof. It was incredibly dim, but much of the hallway he and his group had found themselves in was even more ornately decorated than the rest of the citadel, statues of crystal and gold as tall as Tyrants standing at attention on either side of the hallway, the ceiling stretching upwards of fifteen meters high—taller than one's average two-storied suburban domicile. To the Slayer's minute surprise, when they began walking, torches on either side of the hallway blazed to life, royal-violet flames bursting from them. The Slayer wasn't left pondering why there was such a showing for too long—mostly because he didn't care—because it was soon revealed that, when they came upon the one and only visible doorway on the entire floor, the entirety of Basement-Level Three had been dedicated to one massive library—and that said something, considering that the Citadel was bigger underground than above.
The Slayer stared at the massive, five-meter tall wooden double-doors without any sort of reverence. Pretentious though they seemed, if this library held more than any other library in Lilith—quite large considering that Lilith was the size of a damn province—then these doors had a right to look however they wanted. Either way, the Slayer cared not, and he approached it without pause, reaching for the handle-less door.
The warning came a microsecond too late. The Slayer's open palms pressed against the seemingly normal wood, but the moment his fingers made contact, multi-colored runes and magic circles spun into view. In the next instant, the Hellwalker dashed back, and blasts of hundreds of different kinds of magic obliterated the spot in which he'd once stood. Explosions rocked the building as lightning jumped from floor to ceiling, jets of fire, ice, energy, and destruction ripping stone apart.
The Slayer watched, knees bent in alarm and eyes narrowed in fury as wave after wave of magic continued to slam down. He stepped back when a dozen more magic circles appeared, accompanied by an energetic whirring from behind him. He turned his head. The statues of gold and crystal jumped from their pedestals, then faced the Slayer with vigor, readying their weapons.
The Primeval behind the visor glared. Faced with opposition, the simmering anger within him bubbled into rage. His aura blazed as the Super Shotgun appeared in his fingers, and he raised it, eyes set aflame.
The Hellwalker paused, not at the sudden command that left Ajuka's lips, but at the statues that suddenly froze. After a tense moment, they moved, returning to their original positions. Behind him, the Slayer could hear the magic circles dispersing. He lowered his weapon, and it disappeared from his hands, the rage settling, his aura returning to him.
He turned his head to Ajuka. A green, energy-like shield flickered around him. It became apparent that the shield's purpose had not been to protect him from the barrage, but rather to protect him from the dust that would have otherwise dirtied his outfit.
The shield dropped with an energetic hum, and the man behind it turned, eyeing the Slayer with a troubled stare. The Slayer stared back.
"So…" Tiamat finally uttered, her own plethora of magic circles dispersing as she lowered her readied hands.
Ajuka cleared his throat. "Right. I forgot to mention that the Citadel's Private Library is, well, private. Only those with access from the other Satans and I can freely navigate it." He facepalmed, seeing the wanton destruction about the floor. "I should have warned you, but it has been a very long while since I'd ever granted someone new access to this floor. My apologies." He looked up at the ceiling. "I do hope that nobody heard that." His gaze returned to the Slayer, now noticeably curious, yet cautious. "Was… Was that your aura, by the way?"
The Slayer said nothing. After a strained moment of silence, he gave a gesture towards the unassuming wooden doors in an unintentionally menacing 'you first' manner. Ajuka inhaled before wordlessly proceeding ahead of him, frowning slightly.
"Are you unharmed, Master?" The Slayer turned to see Tiamat's worried frown. He raised a brow, and though she couldn't see it, Tiamat could feel it. "S-sorry, but you can't fault me for worrying sometimes, Master." She bit her lip. "I just…"
The Hellwalker's perpetual scowl softened when he saw the downtrodden look on his familiar's face, and he considered her. After a moment, he found his gauntlet subconsciously drawn to her head. He rubbed the dragon's scalp in a surprisingly soothing and affectionate manner.
"Master?" Tiamat looked up at the man behind the visor, eyes soft. They shared a brief, fleeting moment with one another, but it was a moment nonetheless. Tiamat smiled at him. "Thank you, Master."
The Slayer allowed himself to indulge for another minute more before he decided that they'd idled long enough. Finished with comforting whatever unusual doubt had plagued Tiamat's psyche, the Hellwalker removed his gauntlet from her head, eliciting a small pout from the Dragon King. He ignored it, following after Ajuka, who'd repaired the damage that the door-trap had caused with a wave of his hand. The devil watched the tender event between Slayer and dragon with a smile on his lips. The Slayer ignored that as well. Soon, Tiamat followed after him, and the doors slammed shut behind them.
The newcomers stared.
The Citadel's Private Library was... mythical. First of all, the entirety of the room was massive. So massive, in fact, that it was difficult to actually see where the endless insanity of objects ended, even with the enhanced vision that most supernatural beings sported. Rather than there existing endless rows upon rows of ceiling-height shelves, everything was floating. Thousands of standalone bookshelves dotted the air, frozen and unmoving as if time was stopped, some stacked upon one another, others lined up side by side. In the center of the room, just a meter from the ceiling was a large gyroscopic device with a sphere of what looked to be solidified purple light at the center. Orbiting this were a number of books that seemed to glow, intense with magical energy. On the ground, and also in the center of the room was a leafless tree, its branches branching out every which way. The ground itself looked like it was made of a dark liquid, but when the Slayer stepped on it, it was solid, yet it rippled. Most of the floor was dark, with only the ground beneath the tree illuminated by some bioluminescent means, as well as a few other spots that had alien looking foliage growing from them. Around the room and both anchored to the ground and moving freely throughout the air were crystals that emitted a soft glow. Almost everything in the room had dark and light wisps of something rising from them, moving straight up. Finally. at the base of the tree in the center of the room sat a single, seemingly normal unlit terminal, waiting to be used.
As Tiamat and the Slayer entered the room, the former slightly awed, the latter somewhat impressed but ultimately indifferent, Ajuka strode up next to them. "Magnificent, isn't it...? Now, I suppose this is the part where I am to ask: where do we start?" Ajuka quipped. "Do you have any keywords to look out for?"
As they were shaken out of their scrutiny, the Slayer and his familiar held a silent conversation. "If there are any sections specifically about technology or extraterrestrial civilizations, look out for the words: 'Sentinel' or 'Argent' within them. Any records on the Great King Faction's activity should be of note as well."
Ajuka looked at the dragon, suddenly very interested. "Extraterrestrial civilization?"
Tiamat regarded him with a stare. "Civilizations." The dragon paused when the Slayer looked at her, a question in his eyes. "Oh, Master," she smiled at him. "Magic is more than just for combat. If anything, it is one of the most utilitarian abilities there are. Sure, this library is pretty big, but Ajuka and I can comb through these books like nothing!" she said proudly.
The Slayer let out a surprised, yet appreciative grunt. So, bringing Ajuka along did have merit beyond the minor information that he'd been able to provide. Certainly, this was a plus in his favor. His gaze rose to the endless bookshelves, then fell to the leafless tree, then to the terminal, then to Ajuka. If Tiamat's and Ajuka's abilities were sufficient enough, then the Slayer would much prefer digging through a digital database. He pointed at the one terminal, then gave a near unnoticeable head tilt. Ajuka managed to decipher it.
"... Hm… You may use it, but I must warn you, a good amount of the information you will find is classified. While this is a library, it is also an informational archive… that's why we have such heavy security." Ajuka paused, hand on his chin in thought. He looked at the Slayer. "However, that shouldn't impede you from getting what you need. Sirzechs did grant you access to the means to acquire your information."
The Slayer managed a nod at Ajuka's cleverness. The devil turned, then led him to the terminal, Tiamat following closely, her eyes roaming the library. They passed by a number of crystals that glowed brighter when they approached, then dimmed when they left. It took a minute, but when they finally reached the tree, they found it to be much bigger up close.
"You do what you need. Tiamat and I will be somewhere on the farside of the library. I won't be able to stay for long though. I've got about an hour before I have… an appointment to attend to." Ajuka said.
The Hellwalker analyzed that statement, then nodded again. He figured that a leader of not only an entire nation, but an entire species wouldn't have any time to spare for him, a foreigner. Then again, according to both Ajuka and Tannin, the both of them had weekly outings to get absolutely hammered, or, at least, as intoxicated as a millennia old Dragon King and a Super Devil could get.
The Primeval regarded the man for another moment longer before he focused on the task at hand, shoving the old, out of place metal seat out of the way. The terminal booted up without fanfare. It required a password.
Ajuka gave him a high-clearance password, then disappeared with Tiamat into the endless sea of nonsense, the dragon woman giving him a pleasant wave.
Usually, information gathering was a nuisance—a vexing pain in the ass to deal with—and in any other situation, it would have been. But this was not any other situation. This was a situation in which a terminal—a computer device had been presented to him, the Doom Slayer—the god who wore the indestructible Praetor Suit, a mythical piece of alien technology capable of not just enhancing the wearer, but also interfacing with any and all technology it came across, so long as it was within an appropriate range.
Not even thirty seconds had gone by before the Slayer found results, trillions of documents scanned in the blink of an eye. He was very satisfied, almost to the point that the ever-simmering anger within him was sated for a moment. The less time he wasted here, the better.
The Praetor Suit blipped thrice as it displayed its findings to him. Large, bold letters dominated his vision, reading, "PROJECT: RED ARMY." The large title shrunk in size, placing itself in the corner of his HUD, then a series of documents and archives scrolled through his visor. Words jumped from certain pages, setting themselves off to the side, and soon, things became comprehensible.
He read the information, understood it, then his fists clenched.
Project: Red Army was the successful attempt to recreate ancient, alien technology that had been discovered over two-hundred years ago. Only one century ago, the Bael Clan authorized the project, thus, the reverse engineering of said alien technology began, succeeded by the development of the Mark I Red Soldier—the first generation of the Red Army.
With every word that he read, the Slayer's brow knit further. The devils had found ancient alien technology. Sentinel technology.
If what he'd read was to be believed, then they didn't steal Sentinel technology, and it wasn't given to them. They'd simply discovered it wasting away after who knows how long. The implications ran through the Slayer's head. Was this an abandoned Sentinel world? The idea was ridiculous—the Sentinels rarely ever left entire planets alone. It would take a massive, world-shattering calamity, like the one that had occurred on Mars—the sinking of the planet's crust that produced the Lost City of Hebeth.
The Praetor Suit blipped again, drawing the Slayer's attention. A single, high-resolution image appeared on his HUD. In the forefront, what looked to be a number of scientists stood, their faces censored. In the background, a gargantuan, green, metallic head—a helmet befitting of a titan sat, unrusted despite its obvious age.
When the Slayer's eyes fell on it, he recognized it instantly. It was the head of an Atlan. His Atlan—the Atlan from the Fortress of Doom.
A low, near silent growl left his throat. He dug deeper, willing the Praetor Suit to give him more. But that was it. There was nothing more. It wasn't in the sense that the clearance level he'd received from Ajuka wasn't high enough, it was that the documentation for Project: Red Army simply didn't exist. The Slayer ran a kernel-level scan. Nothing. His fists clenched hard enough to crush Blackstone.
They were using his technology, the Atlan that he'd been rebuilding for his own amusement, to further the advancement of their own civilization, keeping corrupt assholes in power. What's worse, he'd fixed that thing with an Argent core. If they'd yet to get to it, then he wouldn't let them. His glare hardened on the one name he could associate with this whole shitstorm.
The Bael Clan.
The Hellwalker's fingers found the terminal once more, and he allowed the Praetor Suit to scan it again. Names, dates, locations—everything that he needed appeared on his HUD. He read through it all.
The Bael Clan, the most powerful devil clan in the Underworld, famous for their matter-annihilating Power of Destruction and their adherence to devil power and physical strength, was headed by Lord Bael, son of Zekram Bael. The Bael Castle was located far from here, sitting behind miles and miles and miles of Bael territory.
The Slayer's aura bristled on his armor slightly. That was all the information he needed. After that Rating Game that Tiamat was to referee, he knew where he was going first.
The Slayer let out a huff. In less than five minutes, he'd already gotten good information, but he was far from finished. He switched gears.
Now that he knew where this technology was coming from, he could not only recover a portion of his property, he could also potentially halt the discovery and extrication of the Argent core. Argent Energy had the power to not just create interdimensional portals, it could break the walls between universes, and if done without the proper knowledge on how it operates… well, because Hell is intrinsically tied to every universe ever made, uncontrolled testing may open up a rift to the sealed dimension, undoing all of the Slayer's work.
Fortunately, the Slayer had been intelligent enough to install a fail-safe on the core. It couldn't be accessed by anyone but him, and if it was forcefully pried open, then… well it would collapse in on itself, destabilize into a singularity, then detonate in an Argent explosion that would obliterate everything for dozens of miles—similar to a nuke, but Argent. Unfortunately the Slayer's fail-safe had been with the intention to decimate demons should he ever actually entertain the idea of piloting an Atlan to fight the Army of Armageddon rather than ripping and tearing through them up-close and personal as he was wont to do. Now the Atlan was under some prick's mansion, and if anybody happened to be in the area if it went off, they'd be as good as dead.
The Hellwalker shook his head slightly, focusing on the next issue at hand: the Relics of Doom. His collectibles. One of his hobbies and some of his most prized possessions. Even if they weren't Argent-enhanced relics of unrivaled power, he would have refused to leave this planet until he found them all.
For the third time, the Slayer interfaced with the terminal. There were brief mentions of his belongings here and there, but beyond that, there was nothing. He scowled, turning away.
He supposed that finding all of the information he'd needed at one time would be too much to ask for. He turned his head to the endless rows of shelves. It seemed that he'd have to hit the books.
He didn't have a problem with that. Those who knew him—that is to say, pretty much nobody—knew that he was anything but a light reader. It was actually one of the pastimes he'd come to enjoy over the eons. He wondered if his collection of comics and novels had been obliterated throughout the years. They probably had been, and he lamented that. He could always procure more, though.
The Slayer turned in Tiamat's direction, staring through a small forest of alien plants that had books as leaves. As he and the dragon were tied—soul bound, they always knew exactly where one another were, and could feel each other's emotions to an extent. Rather, only the Slayer could feel Tiamat's emotions. The Hellwalker didn't want the connection to be mutual, solely for the sake of Tiamat's well-being. The dragon didn't deserve to feel what he felt. Nobody did.
He walked over, his footsteps thumping loudly. After a minute of trekking between some standalone shelves and combing through the small forest, he found Ajuka and Tiamat discussing something, literal gleams in their eyes as they set stacks of books on a wooden table. A number of shelves hovered around them before floating away. He approached them, and the Satan caught sight of him first.
He regarded the Slayer with an interested look, and Tiamat turned when she saw that Ajuka's attention was no longer on her. "Oh? Running into trouble already?" The Satan inquired.
The Slayer only shook his head. He understood the man's confusion—it'd only been five minutes since he'd started after all.
"Then," Ajuka continued, "have you already found what you are looking for?"
The Slayer grunted affirmatively.
Ajuka stepped back in surprise. "So quickly?"
The Primeval nodded, and Tiamat automatically jumped to explain. "As expected!" she said proudly. "Master's Praetor Suit is a technological advancement like no other. Not only does it enhance his abilities, it is extremely utilitarian as well. That is, it is capable of interfacing with any and all technology it comes across, from weapons to computers and more."
The Satan was nothing short of impressed. The Slayer's technology was pretty much alien, and while the devils had done a decent job of replicating it, he hadn't yet heard of an armor that could interface with any technology—after all, the terminal in this library was made with magic, unable to be hacked or accessed by external technology.
"Huh. Well then. I was hoping to get a bit more… engaged in this endeavor, but I suppose that you would like to get the job done as swiftly as possible, yes?" His eyes adopted an excited flourish, but at the same time, there was apprehension. "So, may I ask what you found?"
The Slayer stared at the devil for a moment, then looked at Tiamat, recalling the way in which she'd transferred her life story to him, the way the memories had flowed into his brain. He thought about it, then experimentally, he replicated the feeling, but in reverse, sending images, flashes of soundless information to the woman.
Where she stood, the dragon stumbled suddenly, her head shooting upwards in surprise at the sudden intrusion.
Ajuka gave her a concerned look. "Is something the matter?"
"No it's just..." She cleared her throat. "We are not yet done here. Master has found the ones that had stolen his technology, as well as the ones who'd authorized this, Project: Red Army. It was the Bael Clan. According to recorded archives, the Bael Clan first discovered Master's technology two-hundred years ago before they started developing the Red Army one-hundred years after."
The Satan adopted a thoughtful look. "The Bael Clan? That's… strange..." For a brief instant, his expression morphed into a frown, and had the perceptive Doom Slayer not been paying attention, not even he would have caught it. In the next moment, he wore a neutral stare. "What will you do now?"
The Slayer's brows narrowed at the question. His eyes looked the Satan up and down. From what he'd gathered about Ajuka in the few hours that he'd known him, the Satan was likely worried about what the Hellwalker might do. The man's worries were probably justified, the Slayer would admit. Although he refused to harm an innocent unless they attacked him first, he had no qualms with kicking in the front door of this Bael Clan to find the answers he needed, especially when they were in possession of his technology, whether they knew that or not.
"I'm going to take a guess and say that you are going to make a visit soon?" Ajuka asked. The Slayer's stillness was his only answer. "I see. While I can't tell you what to do, I will give you a suggestion." His gaze sharpened. "Politically, you are a neutral party. If you barge into their territory unprovoked, you will become an enemy to devilkind, and given enough provocation, I and the other Satans will be forced to take action—especially since the Bael Clan is one of the most powerful and important clans there are." The Slayer could sense a 'but' coming along. "However, if you were to send a powerful political representative first, say Tiamat, and request that they return your property, the pressure enforced on you will be mitigated, but not by much. The Bael Clan won't give up anything to a man without strength, and while you certainly do have that, they will probably want proof that whatever you are trying to get is yours."
The Hellwalker paused at the advice. He didn't like it. He hated it, in fact. His fingers curled in resentment towards politics of any kind. He certainly wouldn't be going through any bullshit witch hunt to prove that the tech was his either. That being said, maybe he would heed Ajuka's advice… to an extent. Rather than sending Tiamat alone, he himself would go and allow Tiamat to carry his demands. And should they be denied, well…
He would tear the entire fucking castle down to get his shit back if he had to, no fucks given.
The Slayer would rather not make an enemy of someone like Ajuka—not because he was weary of fighting the devil, but because he was, as of seven hours ago, a curious companion. The Slayer had lost enough brothers throughout the eons. But if it meant that he would be kept from his goals, if it meant that his belongings would be used to empower entire civilizations and keep corrupt beings in power, then he'd risk it.
He gave a nod of acknowledgment—nothing more—then slowly looked to Tiamat, cueing her to continue.
"Understood." She gave Ajuka a stare, grabbing his attention. "While Master has found the ones who'd stolen his technology, he has yet to find anything in the digital database about the Relics of Doom." She paused. "I know a lot about the Relics, but it's been a long time since I've seen one. Are there any records on where they could have gone?"
"…" The shift was immediate. At the mention of the Relics, Ajuka's expression became grave, and the Slayer could tell that he was internally debating something. It was a few moments before he replied. "We do have records, but… just follow me." He set the book in his hands down and walked briskly, white-knuckled as he disappeared into the forest of books, illuminated by the light of the gyroscopic sphere. Considering that this matter concerned one of his most prized collections, the Slayer didn't hesitate to follow, Tiamat tailing him closely. The group trekked for a good, long minute before Ajuka spoke again.
"I know you noticed how we Satans reacted when Tiamat first mentioned that the Relics of Doom are your property, Slayer," he said, gravity in his tone. "The Relics of Doom are no laughing matter. They are important. Very much so. Perhaps even more than the Sacred Gear system—even all Thirteen Longinus combined cannot match their importance. It is not common knowledge on what exactly they do, or where they are."
They approached a magic circle etched into the liquid floor at the back of the library. It looked... strange.
Ajuka stopped when he reached it, then turned around, facing both the Dragon and the Slayer. "I knew that we'd reach this topic soon enough, but I didn't think we'd be here so quickly. Slayer, I want you to know that the only reason I am showing this to you is because I know you are the sole creator and owner of the Relics. I can tell—I've brushed past a few in my time, and now that I think about it, their energies are intrinsically tied to yours. You're a new, big league player in this universe, and if you truly are the owner, then you deserve to know where they are, at least. Had you not been related to them, well…" He paused for effect. "Let's just say that we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."
The Satan didn't give either of them time to reply, moving over to the circle. With a tap of his heel, the etchings emitted a soft glow. He stood at the center of it, turning to face the duo, then he thrust a hand towards the giant, dozen meter-long gyroscopic sphere. It pulsed with energy, shifting color from purple to blue.
"Where are you taking us?" Tiamat inquired.
"To a place accessible to only a few—even fewer than those that can enter this library." He sighed, closing his eyes as he looked to the floor. "I can't guarantee that you'll find anything useful. But you're welcome to look. Now, please," he tapped his heel on the circle again, and it hummed with energy, "step into the transportation circle."
They did so, and without further pause, Ajuka took them away.
"I-I-I-I-It w-was an h-h-honor w-working wi-wi-with y-y-you, s-sir," a meek, quiet, feminine voice stammered.
The Slayer turned his head as he stepped into Serafall's studio, Tiamat moving past him as his fists clenched. He stared down at the quivering girl that, for some reason, went out of her way to greet him, even with the obvious terror in her eyes—a young devil journalist who'd just entered the news and media business recently. Although she was a Low-Class devil, she was excellent at her job. It was one of the reasons why, despite her lack of any kind of strength—something highly valued in devil society—Serafall Leviathan had taken the young girl under her wing, not as a member of her peerage, but as a member of the Satan's prestigious news and PR team. Cassandra, her name was.
Despite the bags under her eyes, highly indicative of an obvious lack of sleep, the young woman squeaked as the Slayer's powerful gaze found her. She quivered on the spot, unable to move, tears glistening as if she'd seen the most atrocious and terrifying thing in her life. The fear was almost primal, yet it didn't evoke a flight or fight response. With a single look, the girl's life was placed in his hands. Was she really that afraid of him? Most Low-Class devils seemed this way. It spoke volumes about his aura, and that he should expect similar reactions in the future—given, Cassandra was particularly shy.
Either way, the Slayer was disinterested beyond the small pang of sympathy he felt for the stressed and fatigued Cassandra. Without an utterance, the Slayer gave a hard nod of appreciation to her, then tore his eyes away from the journalist's shaking form, looking for Serafall. He found her in no time at all; she was standing atop a throne composed of filming equipment, a small touch-screen device nestled between her fingers as Tiamat approached her excitedly. The Hellwalker followed his familiar, menacing in his step as he always was, though if one looked closely, they could see a certain amount of annoyance in his gait. The Primeval's thoughts wandered to the source of his ire.
It had been twelve total hours since he and Tiamat had entered the Citadel's Private Library and began their research—twelve hours since he'd taken the first step to success on his latest journey. In that time, he'd managed to discover that a piece of his lost property was being used to accelerate the technological advancements of devilkind; the Atlan that he'd been repairing in the past for his own amusement was now locked behind a safe, the key of which was held by some highborn aristocrat, and while this was certainly good news—good in the sense that he had a place to start—it was nonetheless news that was soured by his other discovery.
It turns out that, when it comes to the Relics of Doom, after Ajuka had given him and his familiar access to records of his possessions' last known whereabouts, he learned that, in the past decade or two, all of his possessions had begun disappearing from the radar one-by-one. In other words, they were being hunted by somebody. Used by somebody. And neither the Slayer nor Ajuka—nobody for that matter—knew of who or what was taking them.
Hence, the Slayer was annoyed. It had only been a day since he'd arrived in this city, and yet he'd already ripped and tore through its greatest source of information down to the bloody bone, only to find the crumbs of a cold trail. Before he'd left, Ajuka had shared his worries, telling of how the Relics could bring about the rise and fall of massive civilizations in a relative instant. The Satan feared that someone or something with malevolent intent was attempting to gather them all, then use them for a nefarious purpose. So far, all special operations sanctioned by the Great Satans themselves to recover the Relics have failed, and more than a few hand-picked teams sent out had never come back. Had Tiamat not fallen asleep against his shoulder six hours into his research, the Slayer might have put a fist-sized hole into the computer that he'd been sitting at.
The Hellwalker paused in his lamentations of stagnated progress, his thoughts falling on that of his draconic companion. His eyes flitted over to her, watching as she dodged a hug from Serafall, who was excited for reasons different from the dragon. The Slayer was never usually one to be worried about something, but when Tiamat rested her head on his shoulder the night before, she began mumbling in her sleep, and strange things began to happen. It wasn't until the Slayer received a burst of fear and doubt that undoubtedly emanated from his familiar before he grew concerned for her well-being. He'd put a hand to her head, ruffled her hair a bit, and after a few moments, her strange feelings had receded, replaced by warmth and happiness. The Slayer wasn't yet sure what to make of this, but he had instantly connected it to the strange episode of worry that had plagued her before they'd entered the library. He wouldn't confront the Dragon King about it yet, but if it got worse, then he would take action.
Tiamat was his familiar—his companion, and no matter how cold and distant he himself seemed, he understood the woman far more than anybody else could, could empathize with her. He wanted her to be well, and while he wouldn't say no to her assistance, he would not allow her to proceed if it cost her mental well-being. He'd lost enough companions already.
The thoughts faded away, replaced with the matter at hand: Serafall had summoned him and Tiamat. As he approached the devil, any of the exhausted producers and tech-team members nearby gave him a wide berth despite not being in his way. When he got close, the dragon and the Satan grew quarrelsome, and Tiamat threw Serafall off of her. The Satan finally took notice of the Slayer, landing face-first before him.
"Ow… Hey! You're here!" she sprang-up from the debilitating position, excited. "I mean, why wouldn't you be? If Tia-tan is here then you should be as well." She shook her head. "Anyways, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here."
The Hellwalker stared coldly, unmoving and apathetic. Her energy wasn't abated.
"I'll cut to the chase, just for you. Your debut is finished!" She paused. "Well, actually, your debut finished a few hours earlier and we're just monitoring the world-wide situation as it cools down—er, never mind that. Wanna see?" She held her hands up to him, as if presenting a treasure, but between her fingers was nothing but empty air. The Slayer tilted his head slightly, confusion and annoyance evident. It took a moment before she realized that something was wrong, and she brought her hands to her face, a puzzled expression on her visage. "Where did…?"
She whipped around, eyeing an awed Tiamat who stared down at a touch-screen device—the very same one that Serafall had just held. Before the Satan could protest, the dragon stepped over. The metallic, ear-shredding riffs of At Doom's Gate rumbled from the device, and the Slayer's gaze snapped over.
"Wow! Master, take a look."
The Primeval looked down at the device. There on-screen he stood in his usual position—fists clenched and glaring with simmering anger. For the first time, he saw his own aura. Flames of white and red dominated the screen, licking at whatever they could, bristling at the slightest movement. It looked like his body was bathed in fire. There was a voice rattling off the Slayer's Testaments.
He grunted at that, then turned away. So, that was it then? There was certainly less fanfare than he'd expected from the likes of the devils, but then again, the simpler, the better—nobody would know that it was the devils that had made it.
That being said, he was done here; it had taken almost twenty-four hours of work and preparation in which Serafall's PR team had utilized their skills and assistance from foreign peacekeeping agencies in tandem with Sentinel-esque technology to tap into the viral communications of every supernatural government—a task that was steep to success considering the technological innovation that each civilization had—but now, it was finished: he'd made his debut, and now, in return for the demobilization of every active military from what could be equated to DEFCON 1, everyone in the world would pin the blame of the Malicious Incident on him. He figured that devil society wouldn't take too kindly to his presence, but he wouldn't leave—not until he paid the Bael Clan a visit. If anybody came after him, he would be ready for them, as he always was.
Tiamat smiled that endearing smile of hers. "That was quite the show, Master. It was awesome!" she said excitedly. Was it really? All he did was stand in place while they recorded him with an aural-imaging camera.
"Ha!" Serafall huzzahed, chest puffed out. "My team is mastered in the arts of videography. They could make a whole movie out of a man walking down the street if they wanted to."
The woman stood in a picturesque pose, eyes closed and statue-like as she waited, presumably for some kind of acknowledgement or praise. The Slayer, puzzled, stared at her for a moment before losing interest, at which point he motioned for Tiamat to follow. They were done here, thus, they were leaving. On top of having no reason to stick around, the Slayer had grown weary of staying in the Citadel's Private Library for so long. Now that the Sun of this world had finally risen, it was time he saw the province-sized Lilith.
"Oh? Are we leaving? Very well."
The Chaos Karma Dragon set the touch-screen device down and turned to the Satan Girl, who's eyes had snapped open at the dragon's words. "Thank you for your help, Serafall. It was nice seeing you again, but we must go. Master wishes to see Lilith's facilities, and I have a...date to attend to." she smirked, smug.
The Hellwalker gave Serafall another neutral look, then a rigid nod before turning away. As the Slayer-Dragon duo began to leave the room, Serafall sputtered incredulously, realizing that her new prime teasing target didn't much care for her antics. She pouted, then loudly called out to him.
"Uh, hello? Hey! Where are you going? Isn't this the part where you thank me? Or, y'know, the team that worked so hard for your benefit for like, twenty hours straight?" she demanded. The Slayer stopped walking, but he didn't turn around. His benefit? If anything, this whole thing was for their benefit. The only thing he'd personally accomplished here was painting a massive target on his back. "I have an idea: as a thank you, you should feature on my TV show: Magical Girl Milky Spiral Seven and the Space Marine!"
For a moment, the air went still and everything stopped. Cassandra and the other devil producers paled, their heads snapping towards the Primeval in the room, fear evident in them—both because they desired to do away with the Slayer's horrifying presence, and because they were all too fatigued to deal with Serafall's antics at the moment. Trying to record another episode of that damn show would exhaust them beyond their limits.
As if he hadn't heard Serafall at all, the Slayer kept walking. Though everyone else let out an audible sigh of relief, Serafall, miffed, whined horribly. The Slayer's only argument was that he had begrudgingly thanked her by virtue of his universal affirmative gesture: the nod.
Unhurried, the Slayer-Dragon duo left the studio, opening the doors into one of the hallways of the Citadel, a rush of cool, magically-conditioned air meeting them, light flooding into the room. Soon, after passing many hallways and shocked, terrified servants, and after descending an elevator, they reached the surprisingly humble and empty lobby, save for the single receptionist who jumped at the sight of the Slayer, quivering in her shoes. With that, Tiamat and the Slayer finally had free reign to do whatever they wanted within Lilith, so long as it wasn't harmful or lawless.
The Slayer stopped and looked beyond the entrance of the Citadel, the light of noon noticeably dim; it must be cloudy outside. The whole situation was... surreal.
For a literal eternity, his sole existence had been to purge the demons—to stop the evil from spreading. He fought and toiled for billions of years, never once imagining what it'd be like should he succeed in his mission. His agenda had never gone beyond anything but ridding of Hell.
And yet, here he was picturing the life ahead of him, unsure of what was to come. It was here where, for the second time since he'd sealed Hell, the Slayer realized that, from now on, he would be free and in possession of an overabundance of free time to spend for the rest of his immortal eternity. For eons, every microscopic facet of free time he'd had, he'd used to improve himself such that he could better destroy the demons. The only times he'd ever dabbled in the commodities of recreation were once every few millennium: he'd oil-painted a portrait of Daisy and himself, he'd built himself an Argent-powered PC, he'd collected comics and books, learned and mastered strange weapons and techniques like nunchucks, and he'd done a few other things he didn't care to remember.
Now though? Now his time was limitless. Twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred sixty-five days a year, one-billion years an eon. While it wasn't quite daunting, he wasn't sure what he'd do with such time. Eventually, his belongings would be found, then he would have a mission no longer. He could spend his days destroying the evils of this world, jumping between universes and dimensions doing good, but, though evil was plentiful, no evil could be worse than Hell. Even if he spent years of time casting judgement upon the bastards, he would still have all of the time in the world. The question was, even if he lived life as a drifter of sorts, how would he spend the immeasurable time on his hands?
He felt his eyes being drawn to Tiamat. Memories of the past two days bounced around in his head, and an answer took no time to form. Perhaps, the answer to filling such large lengths of time would be to not spend such time alone. Perhaps, creating companions really is what he needed in the long run. He didn't know for sure if that answer was true, though. Only time would tell.
That being said, maybe it was time to pick up some hobbies beyond ripping and tearing.
The Slayer thought about it for a moment. He was very inclined to spend all of his time looking for his belongings until the mission was done, but then again, the ever-present threat—the stress that the demons had forced on him was no longer existent. His belongings had been in circulation for two-thousand years, so finding them would be no short, easy task, and he could confidently say that there would be much waiting involved in all of this. Now, as he'd sometimes wished he could in the past, he could, well, relax somewhat...
The Hellwalker was pulled from his inner-machinations by his loyal familiar, a sly grin on her lips, her eyes shining. Her tail slowly undulated in an excited manner, a habit the Slayer had come to notice. She was about to do something that she considered, in her own words, devious.
Her hands in the air, she stretched. "Mmm, we are finally out of that library... I say we should get some fresh air. So, Master? How about that tour? I can show you all of the locations of interest, as well as some places where we might be able to have... fun. It will take several hours at least, though, if you're okay with that. I need to find that one vendor..."
A tour. That would work. The Slayer could make a detailed map of the city while marking down locations like libraries and possibly even historical museums as future points of interest for research. This was also a good chance to discover what the devils were all about when it came to culture. There was only one issue...
The Hellwalker gazed into his familiar's excited electric eyes. Tiamat seemed to forget that the entirety of the Devil population had it out for him, or, at least, were afraid of him and would deny him entry into their shops—at which point he'd leave because there would likely be nothing of integral interest or inherent need to be found.
"By the way, don't worry about the devils. I'd give it a week before anybody tries anything," Tiamat added. "I would attempt to conceal your presence, but even I wouldn't be able to do that alone. Perhaps with the assistance of the Great Satans, Tannin, and a few Ultimate-Class devils, it could be done. Unfortunately, your reputation here is less-than-stellar... So, shall we go then?"
The Slayer gave a slow, understanding nod to which Tiamat smiled. She stood by his side, then—
"Hey, wait up!"
Tiamat nearly tripped over herself. The Slayer caught her by the arm and steadied her, then he turned around to see Serafall Leviathan skipping over to them, her full Magical Girl getup sparkling incessantly. The Hellwalker looked her up and down, his gaze critical. He could already tell where this was going.
"You're touring Lilith, right? Let me go with you. I can show you all there is to see," she offered, eyes glittering.
Off to the side, Tiamat was noticeably upset. "What? Serafall, you can't come with—"
Serafall immediately cut the dragon off. "C'mooonnn," the Satan drawled. "It's been so long, Tia-tan. I know you've been here in the Citadel for like a day already, but that was work. This is play. It's the perfect opportunity for us to catch up. I promise, it'll be fun~" she winked, glitter wafting.
Tiamat's expression screamed confusion and dismay. "I... But... You... No! You're a Satan!" she argued. "You have duties to attend to! Responsibilities!"
"Well yeah," Serafall replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm the Satan of 'Foreign Affairs', and Slayer-tan—" the Hellwalker's brows narrowed at the nickname, "—happens to be a very powerful, very important foreigner whom I would have obligations to tend to. Isn't that right, Slayer-tan?" she addressed, expression lifting. "Technically, I would be doing my job."
The Unchained Predator stood motionlessly, brows knit in a mixture between a frown, a glare, and a flat stare all at once. He studied her, searched for her sudden motivation to follow after him and Tiamat beyond being an annoyance. The only thing he could come up with was that she wanted to study him. That, or keep him in check. If it was as minimalistic as that, he didn't give a shit. He made no reply, but that did nothing to deter Serafall's energy.
Tiamat, evidently, was irritated. The prospect of her potential pseudo-date with her Master began to crumble away, and she lunged at it's flaking form, clutching it desperately. "You... You're just using that as an excuse to get out of working! I'm sure that there are plenty of things to deal with, like the potential war between nations—"
"Actually, I've already dealt with that matter. Since the debut was completed a few hours ago, the friction between factions is stable again."
Tiamat growled. "Well... aren't you tired? Weren't you complaining to Master about the weight he'd put on your shoulders yesterday? You've worked for nearly twenty-four hours after all. Your team, too. Shouldn't you be fretting over them? Take better care of your underlings!"
"Nope," Serafall replied easily, popping the 'p'. "I was just joking around the other day—I don't tire so easily; I wouldn't be a Satan otherwise. Also, I already permitted the team to rest here. They're fine."
"W-well... even if you aren't busy or tired, why can't you go bother Sirzechs, or Ajuka, or your sister, or even your peerage instead?" Tiamat demanded.
"Because they're all soooooo busy." Serafall whined. She held out a hand. "First of all, Zexy-Zechs is spending quality time with Gray-chan since the aristocracy has been kind of quiet since Slayer-tan's debut. Second, Juka-tan and Tannin-chan are busy getting hammered since it's their weekly outing today—" the Slayer frowned at that, "—Third," she sniffed, "Sona-tan is a meanie. Fourth, my peerage is... also mean." She paused briefly. "Also, Falbium is busy demobilizing the military—and that's booorrrring!" She cried. "You guys are the only ones doing anything interesting."
"Plus," she added, "if I go with you, nobody will be stupid enough to attack you if they see me. And if they do, I'm sure you can handle them."
Tiamat went silent, shutting her mouth with an audible pop. She refused to let the last remnants of her dream date crumble away. "No," she said, an air of finality to her tone.
"Can I come with?"
"Can I come with?"
"Can I come with?"
"No!" Tiamat shouted, tail straightening.
"Can I come with?"
"NO! Wha—What even is your motivation? Master, let's—Master?" Tiamat looked behind her to see her master already heading for the exit, fists clenched and a rigidness to his step indicative of annoyance. The Slayer was done with this shit. He would survey the entirety of Lilith on his own if he had to, but if Tiamat or even Serafall wanted to give him a tour, then they'd better haul ass because he ain't waiting. "Master! Wait for me!"
"I'm coming too!"
He pushed through the doors, taking his first steps into the city of Lilith.
Upon taking his first step into the great outdoors, the Slayer's eyes were drawn up, and immediately he noticed the endless expanse of grey clouds that were emphasized by the lack of shimmering barriers enclosing Lilith. There was a light breeze, almost pleasantly chilly against his exposed biceps.
Next, his gaze fell onto the massive, high-rising office buildings that rose well above one-hundred fifty meters, each edifice lying just beyond a fifty meter wall that surrounded the Citadel and its smaller, government-sanctioned military buildings. Each one of the skyscrapers was absurdly wide, and more than a few had bridges that connected them to one another. Hovering far above those large buildings were floating islands of rock and earth that dotted the sky every kilometer or so, likely suspended via magic of some kind, each one housing yet another skyscraper, temple, pyramid, or other edifice of the sort. The Slayer immediately found himself conceding that the devils had a damn good architectural design team, because this city would look, to the average man, majestic. This would be interesting for sure.
The impromptu group of three consisting of Primeval, dragon, and Satan—much to Tiamat's dismay—made their way over a security bridge, then crossed the threshold of walls and military buildings. There were several devil guards there, as well as Blood Marines and a few Crimson Juggernauts, but none made a move on any of them. Before Ajuka had left for his 'appointment', he informed the Slayer that he'd release a public service announcement after the Hellwalker's debut, regarding the Slayer to the entirety of devil society, detailing that should any harm or damage come to a devil as a result of the Slayer's rage, it would be entirely the fault of the victim that aggravated him, and the government held no responsibility for such violence at all whatsoever. The Slayer had no idea what the public reaction to such a statement would be like, but he was sure it wasn't good. In any case, none of the given warnings stopped the previously aforementioned devils from staring, nor did it quell the obvious shaking in their knees, shock and fear evident within them. At least it would be a benefit to both the Slayer and the Satans. Anybody acting out of line for the mere sake of prejudice would not be supported, thus stifling the will of those who saw his aura. On top of that, should anybody come to attack him, the Slayer could deal with the issue without unintentionally starting an all-out rip and tear session against innocent devils.
Tiamat seemed to doubt that anybody would attack him on sight, star-like aura notwithstanding; it was likely a result of his debut. The Slayer glanced at Serafall, who was now chatting away towards Tiamat in a very one-sided conversation. The Satan must've shown the world something quite mortifying—though he saw nothing of the sort, the Satan Girl did ask for the clips from his battle with the guards. As for the passive state of the automatons, their stillness could be the result of a reactive intelligence in which they attack only if they or their allies are harmed.
"I-It's h-him..." The Hellwalker heard the devil guards whisper. "t-the Doom Slayer... Why is he here? How did he even get here? And what is Lady Leviathan doing with him!?"
"He's a monster is what he is—"
"Shhh! They might hear you, dumbass!"
He ignored their mutterings, casting his eyes about the area. Aside from simply wandering around the city, there was, as of now, only three real incentives for moving out: marking landmarks for ease of navigation, observing the devils and potentially identifying the scumbags among the populace, and acquiring the means to better take care of the Dryad offspring. Otherwise, this venture would be entirely for recreation. It shouldn't be that difficult.
After passing the gate, he could see more of the city; it was an odd but fitting mesh between the modern central business district of a vast capitalist metropolis, and the overzealous structures of an alien aristocratic society.
Unfortunately, it didn't take long before his presence was noticed, and his gaze was drawn to eye level where he caught the scrutiny of some haughty, disdainful aristocrats among dozens of slightly more mundane office-workers that had paused their daily business to stare at him, mortified and appalled by his presence in the inner-city of the devil capital. They looked at him like he was an animal. A predator to be wary of, as if the slightest movement would induce a knee-jerk reaction. Whenever his gaze fell on one of them, they either stepped back and cowered into the embrace of a present spouse, looked away in anxiety, or stared back defiantly, angered by his presence here—nobody yet spoke or verbally vituperated him, likely because they saw Serafall with him. So, the Satan Girl was useful in this situation...
"The wretch is here?"
"Please... don't let that beast near me."
"Do not worry. If he tries anything, he is as good as dead."
"What business could one such as Lady Leviathan possibly have with such a vile monster?"
"He'll kill us all!"
"Don't fret. Lady Leviathan must be keeping the madman on a leash… I hope."
He decided to ignore the stares and murmurs, as he did the guards. Tiamat seemed less keen on that idea.
The Slayer tilted his head slightly as he observed Tiamat return a mix between a frown and a disappointed look to each passerby ten-fold, now outright ignoring Serafall's blabbering. He figured that the dragon would be a bit more uncaring about the behavior of those around and towards her considering that she was usually calm and collected unless it came to head pats. Then he took into account that, despite her age, Tiamat had lived the majority of her life as an isolationist up until the last few hundred years, and even then, she knew only a select few people, and she very rarely left her cave. Whether she cared about the judgement of others that stared at her would be entirely determined by her as a person. It was a good thing that she wasn't petty, shy, or chaotically vulgar, lest she attack others for their deprecating stares.
The Slayer felt something grab at his closed fist, and he peered down just enough to see Tiamat unconsciously palming his gauntlet with a delicate-looking hand, asking for permission to grasp his own. He stood and stared for a moment, annoyed, then slowly held his fist up to catch the dragon's attention. It took the dragon a short while to notice, but when she did, she froze, then turned, a blush on her face as the Slayer raised an inquisitive, though unseen brow.
Serafall noticed too. "Ooh, Tia-tan is going for it~" she teased.
Tiamat groaned, her cheeks darkening. "Sh-shut up! I just... we should... uhm, we should... get out of here," she said softly, cheeks red. She nodded towards the devils that had begun to crowd the street.
Once Serafall realized the situation, her teasing grin became a frown. "Ah. I see." She sighed exasperatedly when she saw yet more devils stopping and staring. "Jeez, this is worse than I thought it would be. Man, Slayer-tan—you've really gotta get that aura of yours under control. Alright you two, follow me."
The Satan Girl started walking in a seemingly random direction, but neither the dragon nor the Hellwalker yet followed. Instead, Tiamat squeezed on the Slayer's knuckles, awkwardly begging for permission again. The Slayer only gave a blank stare. He didn't yank his fist away, but he didn't reciprocate the hold either. Tiamat felt her cheeks grow warmer, embarrassed that every devil in the area could see her plight in plain sight, even if their focus remained solely on the Slayer. "R-Right. Let's go."
With a light tug, the Chaos Karma Dragon hurriedly pulled the Slayer along, her smaller hand around his gauntleted fist as they followed after Serafall. Inwardly, the dragon sighed, her cheeks flushed, her qualms about the devils momentarily forgotten. She almost jumped when she felt a familiar gauntlet rubbing at her head, then she relaxed into the ministrations. She recalled her daydreams from earlier, how she desired to experience that taste of affection called hand-holding. This isn't quite what she imagined, but it was better than nothing, she supposed. She could feel the warmth, the small hint of affection even, and that's all that mattered.
The powerful group traversed the inner-city for a while, the Slayer retracting his fist from Tiamat's needy palm after an indeterminate amount of time, annoyance evident. Serafall had taken it upon herself to lead the group, and she cheerfully brought them to a number of locations ranging from mundane facilities like shops and office buildings, to monuments, memorials, and cultural artifacts, all whilst dodging the eyes of fearful devils every once-in-a-while—it was less out of necessity and more because Tiamat didn't like the stares. It was very unfortunate that, no matter where they went, most of, if not all of the trade centers shut their doors if they managed to catch wind of the Slayer's arrival. However, this did little to hamper their progress nor did it stifle the derivation of entertainment from their trek.
The Slayer found a certain amount of appreciation for the artistic value that devil architecture had, as well as the immaculate cleanliness of the environment in general. On top of that, and more importantly, progress was being made, so such trivial issues didn't mean shit to him. Yet.
Tiamat found pleasure in simply guiding the Slayer through the city and introducing him to new things, pointing out a few memorabilia in the forms of statues and such. Serafall made it her goal to tease the shit out of Tiamat, seeing as she couldn't get anywhere with the Slayer.
It didn't take even five minutes before the Satan caught on to Tiamat's little crush, and it was then that she realized why the dragon was so adamant on taking the Slayer on a tour alone. Immediately, Serafall capitalized on that, and for the next hour, Tiamat ran red-faced with steam billowing from her ears and her tail whipping up a storm—literally on numerous occasions, much to the Slayer's annoyance.
However, after a while, Serafall relented, and the dragon and the Satan began engaging in more casual conversation. Any misgivings Tiamat had about the devil slowly melted away, and soon Tiamat's unusual discomfort was no more—she began excitedly dragging the Slayer along with her, a pep in her step alongside Serafall's as the Satan brought them to partake in her shenanigans.
The route that the group took was somewhat arbitrarily determined—mostly based on what Serafall desired to show them, and on what Tiamat desired to show the Slayer. The auto-map did its job, and with each edifice they passed, each monumental structure they observed, new codex entries were created, the Slayer cataloguing the important ones for the future.
The first major landmark they'd stopped at was an absolutely massive coliseum in the northern inner-city that harbored an arena from which half-a-dozen other, mile-high, magically suspended arenas could be accessed by virtue of teleportation. The Slayer noted that each of these areas would work well for sparring against Tiamat, given that each is about a kilometer in length or diameter at least, each with different terrain types ranging from mountains to cities.
The second major landmark was located in the eastern inner-city; it was Lilith's Grand Lore-Keep, a gargantuan library with a clocktower that harbored literature and lore specifically about devil history and cultural artifacts, supposedly rivaling the Citadel's library. Its size supposedly rivaled that of the Citadel's library. Here, in the Slayer's free time, he might be able to find out more about the practices of many of the older devils. Perhaps he'll give it a visit some time within the next week.
Eventually, the group reached the ends of the inner-city towards the south, then they approached the southern markets where aristocrats were much less apparent, but still existent among the much more numbered financially middle-class devils. There, they happened upon the third major landmark thus far; it was a humble tavern that went by the name of the Sinner's Circle—the place where Ajuka told him to rendezvous in one week. Despite Serafall's claims that Ajuka and Tannin had gone on their usual outing, neither devil was present. Perhaps they had multiple locations from which they acquired their... fixings.
On top of those major landmarks, there were dozens of other, smaller, minor landmarks that helped improve the Praetor Suit's navigation systems. Otherwise, that was all they'd managed to see in the lengthy three hours they'd walked—they had to teleport more than once to see each class-divided sector of the city.
Beyond a plethora of dirty and fearful looks thrown his way, the Hellwalker found no devil yet noteworthy. Of course, he didn't see anything beyond the surface level, and he wasn't currently actively seeking the shitheads out. He'd do that later.
Now, the trio went through a stylized, outdoors strip mall and market of sorts, consisting of stalls, booths, small buildings, and yellowish lights that were highlighted by the darkish clouds and the ever chilly winds. The Slayer inadvertently scared the absolute shit out of every devil that saw him. Said Hellwalker kept a watchful eye on both Tiamat and Serafall. Although he carried with him an air of unbreakable apathy and stoicism soaked only in simmering rage, he noticed that Tiamat seemed to be having fun, a smile on her face, and for that, he was, in a way, satisfied. When it came to Serafall however, he wasn't sure what to feel other than mild irritation. The Satan Girl had proved herself to be both childish and mature in her antics. She wasn't as bothersome as he'd expected of her from their first impressions, but she was a little pushy and overly cheerful—an attitude that bled over to Tiamat after some time. The Satan was okay, the Slayer supposed.
Overall, the trek was calm and peaceful beyond the few stares he'd received. At least, that was until...
At some point, both Serafall and Tiamat had grown voracious, and they'd found it appropriate to stop at one of the many street vendors. At that moment, reason seemed to be overcome by excitement and they exuberantly skipped up to a small cart that, despite its size, stood out among the streets. The Slayer followed, aware of the looks and the many bodies that kept out of his way, but much more patient than he'd been just one day before. However, when he caught sight of the cart's vendor, he inwardly huffed. He could tell just by looking that his approach would be unwelcome. He decided to keep his distance.
"Hello, may I interest you in a—oh!" A young-looking female devil turned to the Satan and the dragon, the practiced smile on her face morphing into an expression of surprise. "Lady Leviathan? Dragon King Tiamat? Both of you at once... What's the occasion?"
The Slayer noticed the vendor's casual tone and overt lack of deference. So they were all acquainted with one another.
"Ah, Serafall and I are giving my Master a tour through Lilith," Tiamat explained. "It has been a very enjoyable experience thus far."
"It has!" Serafall agreed. She frowned. "Though, I do wish Slayer-tan was a bit more expressive about everything. Gosh, talking to him is like trying to communicate with a brick wall." She put her hands on her hips. "All he does is grunt every once in a while, like 'unf, unf, unf'. How are you supposed to know what he's saying?"
The Slayer immediately grunted after hearing that statement, then his flat expression narrowed into an annoyed glare. Well, she wasn't exactly wrong. Did his vocalizations really sound like that?
The street vendor tilted her head. "Eh? Master? Slayer... tan?" she turned her head, and her gaze met the Hellwalker's.
The confuzzled look on the devil's face fell, and her eyes widened to the size of the very serving bowls before her as the Slayer's dark, cold gaze bore into her, his form wreathed by the fire of his blazing aura. The devil went pale and staggered about, a hand instinctively flying behind her so she could grasp something to support her quaking form. She promptly tripped on seemingly nothing, then fell forward. The only thing that stopped her from falling face first into the stovetop of her own cart was Serafall's palm.
"Hey, are you okay?" the Satan asked as she steadily righted the vendor.
"Tha-tha-tha-tha-that!" The vendor stuttered, glued on the spot with her mouth agape. Serafall's gaze followed the vendor's, and she looked back and forth between her and the Slayer. Realization quickly dawned on her.
"OH! Yeah, that's Slayer-tan. Don't worry about him, he won't hurt you. Just trust me when I say that you should give your eyes a moment to adjust. In fact," she looked over at the Hellwalker, "Oi, Slayer-tan, why don't you come over here and introduce yourself?"
The Slayer looked at the Satan, then towards the street vendor who continued to shake in her shoes. Off to the side, Tiamat gave the Satan a concerned look. Was Serafall blind or some shit? Regardless, the Slayer complied, if only to see what would happen. He recalled Cassandra's attitude towards him in the studio, and he immediately concluded that whatever was about to happen would not be good; the street vendor was, at most, a high-end Low-Class devil in terms of power.
The Hellwalker gave Tiamat a nudge when he approached, encouraging her to get this shit over with.
"Ah, right," she paused, unsure. She turned to the vendor, who's eyes were glued to the Slayer. "A dozen sangui-berry crepes, please!"
The Slayer stared at the dragon. Given the context of the situation, would it not have been better to just order a few? Did she even have the currency with which to pay the vendor? On that matter, would said vender even respond to such stimuli? The devil seemed intent on ogling the Slayer in fear. Irritated by her unresponsive nature, he knocked his fist against the top of the cart, the loud rapping snapping her out of her stupor with a cry.
"A d-d-d-d-do-ze-ze-ze-zen c-c-crepes? Y-y-yes! R-right away!" she fumbled over herself. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as the stovetop blazed, and she hurriedly extricated the tools and ingredients she needed from a lower compartment. Unfortunately, her shaking hands failed her, and a rather large mixing bowl slipped from her fingers. It clanged hard on the cart, smashing into the Slayer's Praetor Suit before unceremoniously falling to the ground.
There was a sudden chorus of gasps, then all went silent throughout the street, the loud clanging having grabbed the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity, causing them to turn and look at the Slayer for the first time, his star-like aura of judgement blinding and overwhelming them, shutting them up. The devil vendor looked shocked at what she'd done, her whole body shaking in pure unadulterated fear. Her mouth opened and closed, speechless by her own action. She didn't let out a peep of noise, that is, until the slow realization finally dawned on her, and she broke into tears.
"P-p-please don't hurt m-me!" she drawled, pleading as the streams poured from her eyes.
"E-Eh? Lyla-chan!? Hey, I thought I told you that he wouldn't..." Serafall trailed off. "Man, this is worse than I thought. You really need to wrangle that energy of yours, Slayer-tan," she reiterated for the third time.
The Slayer had no response. Tiamat gave him a concerned look. After a moment—the vendor now on her hands and knees, Serafall aiding her—the Slayer let out a guttural heft of ire, then turned away, ultimately coming to the conclusion that Tiamat and Serafall could do without his presence for some time. The second his eyes swept across the silent street, men and women backed away, their hands intertwined with their loved ones, children hiding behind their parents.
He looked left and right at them, totally disinterested in their thoughts about him, but nevertheless willing to let the situation cool. Eventually, his gaze fell onto the massive park fountain at the end of the street. He chose to wait there—he'd not much else to do, either way. He looked back to Tiamat, then gave her a gesture indicative of his intent.
Tiamat looked saddened to a degree, but nodded. "I understand. Please wait for us, Master. We won't be too long fixing this—and don't worry about me." She smiled. "I've been having a lot of... fun."
The Slayer didn't doubt it. He made his way over to the fountain, the sounds of running water growing louder as commotion became quieter. At the foot of the fountain he stood and waited, arms crossed, and still. He almost didn't notice the horned devil he had stood himself right next to.
In his periphery, he saw the devil look at him—saw her really look at him before developing an awed expression about her face. She stared at him for a long time, a good sixty seconds before finally mustering up the courage to say something.
The Hellwalker's head snapped over, and he immediately identified the speaker and all of her features. Had any lesser man lay eyes upon her, he would have been entranced, for only a few meters away from the Slayer stood a stunningly gorgeous, supernaturally beautiful woman. Her hair was a burning scarlet that flowed with the wind, her eyes were ruby-like and twinkled in ambiance, and her visage was perfectly soft and heart-shaped. Her chest was ridiculously large and wonderfully pillowy, able to draw the eyes of many, and her hips and thighs were thick and creamy. All of these luscious body parts were constrained only by thin layers of fabric that left nothing to the imagination. Horns grew out of her head, bat-like wings sprouted from her back, and a spade-tipped tail swung from her rear. Her cheeks were heated, flushed, and saliva dripped from a pink tongue that flicked across her lips as she licked them, her eyes wide in total disbelief.
"Hey!" she reiterated, as if he hadn't heard her the first time. "You're that guy!"
The Slayer fixed her with a disinterested glare. His steely green eyes bore into the newcomer's from beyond his visor, but she seemed unfazed by his aura.
She howled, laughing with each breath. "I've been looking for days! And you've been jumping all over the place for hours!" She paused, the jovial smile on her lips morphing into one of frustration. "Damn it, you've been teasing me for almost a week now. I hope you know that I intend to repay you in full. Your ass is MINE!" Suddenly, she jumped, arms outstretched, intending to glomp the Slayer.
Memories of first meeting an unfamiliar Tiamat flashed through the Slayer's memories. The Unchained Predator was not amused. At lightning speed, the Hellwalker's hand shot out and easily caught the devil by her throat, clutching it forcefully. The devil's words replayed in his mind, and he interpreted them in an instant. So, people had already began searching for him? For days, even? Before his debut? Tiamat's intuitions had been right...
The Slayer's innate rage began to rise. Funny how he'd managed to stand himself right next to one of his pursuers. He looked the devil he had caught up and down. Obviously, she was one of the ones searching for him, but what was this woman's business? If she were an assassin of some sort, she wouldn't have been so high profile, nor would she be dressed in such a manner unless her intent was to entice him—a tactic that would never work. She also wouldn't have been so frantic, frenzied, and out of place in general. And what was that about teasing? The Slayer looked into the devil's eyes, but he raised a brow when he detected no malice, only a frenzied, animalistic need of some sort. That did nothing to calm his irritation though.
A cold glower in his eyes, he stared the devil down as she choked for air, grabbing at his gauntlets, but rather than pleading for oxygen or wailing in pain, something unexpected happened. Unbeknownst to the Slayer, the devil in his hold was a culmination of lust: a Succubus.
See, as a Succubus, it is in one's very nature to be inherently excellent at draining and consuming energy from prey, as well as seducing prey; they radiate so much sexual energy that a mere look from a fully-fledged Succubus could turn a homosexual man heterosexual, and a heterosexual woman homosexual. So complex is the Succubus race that their bodies have evolved to drain the essence of a man with a mere touch. This ability is amplified a thousand-fold when stealing the energy of virgins, and of course, the older the virgin, the more energy they have. Perhaps most important, gathering energy gives Succubi immense pleasure, and a virgin's energy, much more so.
So the moment the Slayer's armored gauntlet wrapped around the horned devil's throat, a pneumatic-like event occurred, and the immensely dense, utterly overflowing high-pressure divine virgin energy that wreathed the Slayer's armor sought an outlet to a low-pressure environment, and it was sucked from the Slayer in a massive drove, swirling into the Succubus's body, saturating her bones, her flesh, her skin, and her teeth, coalescing into such a dense form that, had virgin energy been visible to the naked eye, one would think that they were staring at a star cluster, such was the density of the energy. The result? Every last nerve within the Succubus's body that could feel pleasure, did. Immensely.
The Hellwalker raised a brow when the devil in his clutches began spasming uncontrollably. He hadn't even applied enough pressure to cause asphyxiation. Was she so weak when she was the one to confront him? Then, suddenly, she screamed, high and shrill, but not in pain. No, her screams were only in immense pleasure.
"YES! YES! YES AHN~" she moaned to the heavens, eyes watering as they rolled into her skull, tongue hanging out, saliva dripping like a waterfall from it. "I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING! OH, YES~"
The Slayer's irritation became puzzlement. What did she mean, coming? Was she not already here—oh.
It took the cogs in the Hellwalker's head a moment to turn, but by then, the threads of cloth that held the Succubus's bountiful breasts were suddenly drenched by a sweet and savory milk, and the burning region between her thighs gushed, her love juices spraying and flooding the ground in one continuous, unending orgasm the likes of which had never been felt ever before. The Succubus continued to moan and scream, drawing the attention of many nearby devils who turned and watched in sheer horror at the Slayer's star-like aura, and confusion at the Succubus's mix of screams and moans.
The Slayer stared blankly at the Succubus even as orgasmic love juices continued to flow, covering the Praetor Suit, and for the first time in a very long while, shock and confusion got the better of him. He had no idea what to do in this situation, so, like he always did when confronted with a problem he was unsure of how to go about, he defaulted to the ultimate solution: punching the living daylights out of whatever caused the problem. In a practiced manner, his fist clenched, the glare returned, and hastily, he sent his metal gauntlet careening at the sex devil's ahegao face. The punch connected, smashing against the Succubus's cheek, and her head snapped back with a loud crack as she was sent to the land of dreams. The Unchained Predator dropped the Succubus's now unconscious, twitching, pleasure-filled body, and she landed on the pavement with a thud. He stared down at her. Despite the new fracture on her zygomatic bones, her expression was still twisted in immense pleasure.
The Slayer looked down at the Praetor Suit. It was drenched in what he assumed were reproductive fluids. He hadn't a clue about how to feel beyond aggravation. His suit had been covered in more bodily fluids than one could ever imagine, but never once had it been touched by... this.
He looked up, quick to leave the area, but things were far from over. Unseen by the normal eye, the touch of his energy upon the Succubus had been highly reactive, and as a result, it sent out an orgasm-inducing pleasure pulse throughout Lilith, notifying many of his current location. The Slayer froze when he felt another shift in the air, and he looked up to see the silhouettes of many more Succubi accelerating towards him. They landed near him, lining up in rows. Countless more unnaturally beautiful women, all of whom had horns, wings, and tails similar to the woman he'd just socked, stood before him. It was a platoon of Succubi, at least a hundred of them. They didn't bat an eye at the body before his feet. Their thoughts were overcome by lust. Now, they were mindless beasts.
The Hellwalker's gaze swept across his new adversaries. Irritation swelled within him, but as he stared at the horned-devils that surrounded him, he didn't see malice or evil, only immense lust and want. One of the Succubi squeezed her massive breasts together in what was intended to be an enticing manner, and another gave him a full view of her naked genitalia. He swore he could hear a fucking catcall somewhere amidst the mob. None of them had actually seen him punch the shit out of the first of them, he realized.
His fists clenched as he glowered at the Succubi, ice in his heart. The Slayer was never an instigator, and as such, if these horned devils left him alone, he would ignore them in turn. He had no idea why they seemed to have a... fixation with him, or where they even came from, but he wanted no part in their shenanigans. Unfortunately, even when he gave them a clear chance to fuck off—he took up a stance indicative of his intent—the Succubi only grew more excited. As the horned-devils became more active, creeping closer to him, it became clear that he wouldn't be leaving without throwing punches.
Strange. His first encounter would be up against a group of devils that didn't seek to harm him. As far as he was concerned, these posies didn't even pose a threat. That didn't stop him from getting pissed.
Everything pissed him off. Just to varying degrees.
Glaring coldly, the Slayer gave one last look at his adversaries. It was a final opportunity to leave him be. There was a moment of pause as the Succubi gazed at him, holding themselves by nary a thread of remaining will. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they jumped upon him.
The first Succubus to face him giggled sultrily as she grabbed at his waist, a lascivious smirk on her lips. The Slayer stepped back, then caught her extended arms before forcefully pulling her into a knee that cracked her jaw. The Succubus screamed as the physical contact brought her to an immense orgasm, and she fell back, unconscious in both pain and pleasure. The Slayer's brow twitched at the sight. He paused for just a moment, and time slowed to a crawl as he gauged the reactions of the rest of the horned-devils. There was a bout of hesitation, a falter in their frenzy, but ultimately, not one of them seemed to be deterred.
Time resumed, and as the Succubus's body met the ground, three more horned-devils leapt at the Hellwalker. They were quick, but he was far more swift. With little effort, he caught the first one by the leg, then he swung her like a fleshy bat at speeds that cleaved through the air, smashing her figure into the other approaching Succubi with such force that bones were broken and bodies soared. The moment their forms crashed against one another, the immense virgin energy flowed between them without resistance, and they each experienced the greatest, most mind-numbing orgasms of their lives. Before their bodies could even touch the floor, the Slayer's merciless fist found the craniums and rib cages of a dozen more Succubi, bringing all of them agony and ecstasy at the same time, and in a strange parody of what was usual, the streets were painted white by breast milk before being washed clean by colorless orgasmic juices.
As the Slayer swept the legs from another Succubus, he caught a slight change in the lighting and coloration of the environment, and he stepped away just as a pink beam of some type of energy zipped past him, slamming against the face of the Succubus he'd just dealt with. He looked to the source, head lowering, and his gaze fell upon three floating Succubi, their fingers twirling as magic swirled from them. They licked their lips hungrily as they stared at him, and the one in the center closest to the Slayer snapped her fingers, forcing the energy around her to spin into a comprehensible form.
When the creations came into view, the Slayer's glare hardened, and rage bubbled. Tentacles. Dozens of warped genitalia. By his will, the gruesome Chainsaw appeared in his fists, and he revved it, its maniacal song rumbling throughout the streets. The sound grated on the ears of many, and finally, more devils had become aware of the commotion, a few guards and patrolmen among them. The Slayer ignored their shocked faces and screams of inquiry as they approached, and he leapt into the air, swinging the sword of torment heatedly. Tentacles shot at him, but he brutally sawed through them, spraying flesh, blood, and artificial sperm everywhere, and he beelined towards the floating Succubi that sought his energy, the expressions on their faces morphing from lust to surprise.
The two unoccupied Succubi waved their hands in a panic, and heart-shaped glyphs spun into existence before them, blasting aphrodisiac magic at the Slayer. With total control over his body, the Slayer easily dodged between the lust-shots, and he approached at high speed, the Chainsaw disappearing from his hands as his gauntlets balled into fists. With unforgiving intent, his gauntlet soared like a rocket, smashing hard against the first Succubus's bouncing chest. The horned-devil let out a squeal as the Slayer followed through, throwing her form with immense force at the other two Succubi. Energies transferred, and they were out cold, pain and pleasure coursing through their veins as they crashed through the side of a nearby building, sending dust and splinters everywhere in a spectacular shower induced by a shockwave. As the Slayer began to fall, he looked down and locked eyes with an awed Succubus below. Before she could even snap out of her stupor and think, the Slayer's boot crashed against her head, the downward force throwing her head into the pavement, cracking the stone. Like all of the others, she too began to spasm uncontrollably. By now, the Slayer had grown used to it.
He landed heavily, and hastily, he searched for the next target, as he was always wont to do. To his minute surprise, he found no target. His gaze swept across the rows of Succubi, but they no longer had purely lusty looks in their eyes, and their earlier exuberance was nonexistent. Instead, they backed away, not quite in fear, but in apprehension. He could see their hesitation—they still wanted to come after him, to... experience whatever his touch seemed to do to them, but something held them back. After a moment, he realized that it was not he who they were wary of.
The Hellwalker felt a familiar presence behind him. He turned stiffly, and he paused when his gaze fell on a very angry Dragon King. Tiamat stood, her brows knit in a murderous glare and her eyes burning—shining a glacial blue, lightning jumping from them. Her hair disobeyed gravity, rising above her shoulders as they blazed, flames bursting from each individual strand with heat enough to sear the feathers of a mature Phoenix. Her lips were twisted in a furious frown, a snarl of rage. Suddenly, her aura exploded around her, sending typhoon winds throughout Lilith's streets, forcing civilians, guardsmen, and Succubi alike to shield their faces, her power weighing down on their shoulders. Those that witnessed her majesty found fear planted within them, for everyone knew not to mess with an angry dragon, especially not one of the renowned Dragon Kings. With supreme disdain, Tiamat stepped in front of her master. The Slayer didn't stop her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Serafall Leviathan stand beside him.
The Chaos Karma Dragon scrutinized the view before her: the beautiful bodies of numerous Succubi, the breast milk that painted the ground white, the orgasmic fluids that washed it all away, the labored breaths, the moans of pleasure. Almost disturbingly calmly, she raised a finger and pointed at the nearest Succubus.
" You." Her voice was powerful, reverberating throughout the area, and those that heard it shivered in fear. "What business do you have with my Master?"
The Succubus sputtered. "Your master—?"
The ground beneath the Succubi shattered, cratering intensely as Tiamat stomped impatiently, the shockwaves rumbling as they tore the nearby water fountain apart and sent all of the devils in the area save for Serafall tumbling to the ground, a number of them shrieking in the process. Serafall gave a thoughtful hum at the sudden property destruction. The Slayer remained indifferent, though he watched his familiar with interest.
The Succubus visibly swallowed, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of her face. "W-well... I want your master!"
Tiamat paused. "... What?"
"I said I want your master!" the Succubus reiterated. There was a beat of silence.
"...Well... I want him more!" A different Succubus among the crowd of a hundred rose.
"Oh yeah? Well I want him most!"
"No I want him! I want a piece of that ass!"
"Hey, hands off, bitch! He's mine!"
Tiamat's attention was pulled every which way by the rowdy Succubi and her eyes narrowed dangerously at their claims. The Chaos Karma Dragon was very knowledgeable about the Succubi. That's why she found it very strange that they were all acting in this manner: direct and without foreplay.
Succubi were lustful creatures, but they weren't bullheaded. They lived for the art of seduction, of elegance, of crippling a man's will to resist before they inevitably rape him. But they never first threw themselves at their prey like this. Her gaze was drawn down to the numerous bodies that lay on the floor, and the pleasured looks on the faces of many. She saw the euphoria within them, but she also saw the bruises and broken bones.
Slowly, her frown deepened as she put the pieces together and understood what was happening.
" Enough." Her voice boomed under the influence of magic. Her brows twisted into a disdainful glare. "Leave, now. All of you... and I might just show mercy."
The Succubi hesitated, eyeing the Slayer with want. Tiamat snarled.
The glass shattered, and the Succubi were cowed. They turned tail and left, but not without first shouting their grievances towards her. "This isn't over!" more than a few of them taunted.
When the streets were finally clear, Tiamat sighed, her gaze softening. She turned around, then a troubled look came upon her face as she stared at the Slayer.
"Master... you didn't tell me that you were a virgin!" she whined.
The Slayer only grunted, irritated.