Devourer-Chapter 230: Onwards to Ruin

Lucifer paced his opulent chambers as he grit his teeth. The pronouncement had just come from Beelzebub, the rings of Wrath, Gluttony, and Lust had thrown in their lot with the master of the hive.

He had already executed a handful of his intelligence officers for their failure. Lucifer knew at the back of his mind it was a meaningless display of wrath, but at least it provided the illusion of control. This was beyond a simple miscalculation; it was a catastrophic failure. His officers had assured him that nothing of interest was happening in Terra, that the mortal world remained a predictable quagmire of war, greed, and self-destruction. Yet, when the proclamation came down, and he had checked for himself, he saw the entire world in disarray.

Some ancient had materialised and was leading a hive. The details remained unclear, but the implications were undeniable. If he had known that from the start, if his agents had done their jobs properly, he would have put two and two together. The Great Beast had long been searching for an advantage, and now it had found one. Now it was too late the traitor rings were no doubt striking some secret deal that would strengthen their positions while leaving him at a disadvantage.

A growl rumbled in his throat. An unthinkable option lurked at the edge of his thoughts, it was desperate yes, but it was an option.

The angels.

He could contact them and make a temporary truce in the face of a greater threat. He could turn this disaster into an opportunity if he played it right and swallowed his pride.

But the very thought of it burned like a brand. To crawl back to those self-righteous hypocrites, and to ask for aid from the same beings who had betrayed him sent a undercurrent of rage coursing through his veins

In the end, he shut that idea down his pride would not allow it. If he was to fall the angels won’t be far behind, let the angels and demons burn together in the flames of the old world.

Lucifer turned sharply on his heel and strode towards his war room.

Just when he entered the war room another of his officers rushed in. His face was pale and his eyes were wide in terror.

“My lord!” the demon shouted in terror.

“What. Is. It.” Lucifer hissed as he glared down at the petulent welp.

Lucifer looked at the sweaty excuse of an officer as he trembled and cowered beneath him. “Out with it, before I gut you myself.” Lucifer spat.

“Leviathan has switched sides.” the soldier said.

Lucifer saw red and with a swing of his arm he decapitated the demon. His lifeless body slumped to the floor as his blazing blood formed a pool of fire on the floor.

Lucifer grimaced in pure rage as his mind wandered to the rings.

Pride (Lucifer)

Lust (Asmodeus) - Traitor

Gluttony (Beezelbub) - Traitor

Greed (Mammon)

Sloth (Belphegor)

Envy (Leviathan) - Traitor

Wrath (Satan) - Traitor

Treachery - Conquered

Limbo - Purged

So it seems he was now outnumbered, he expected this to an extent but what worried him most was the positions of the rebels. The top three rings included Asmodeus and Beelzelbub. Their Rings were right under Pride and so Asmodeus could devote his forces to holding off the forces of Pride while Beezelbub focused on defeating Mammon and Belphegor.

With Satan at the base of the Rings and with the hive reaching up from Treachery, it was only a matter of time before Mammon and Belphegor were defeated in short order. It seems Leviathan caved almost immediately, he was the most familiar with Satan’s legions and with the hive marching alongside, he knew it was hopeless.

Lucifer looked over the files, and as he expected he saw the Hive was hitting Leviathan especially hard in the war in Treachery. Of all the rings, he had been hit the hardest. His defences in Treachery have all been destroyed and it seems he does not have a single Infernis mine to his name now. But that was a state of affairs that would soon come to pass for everyone. With the declaration of support for Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Leviathan and Satan, Lucifer had no choice but to abandon Treachery.

That was the case for most of the remaining loyal members of hell. They have all started pulling their forces out of Treachery, as for Leviathan, he didn’t bother. He didn’t have much forces left to pull out.

With a sudden burst of movement, Lucifer strode to the war table, slamming his fist against its surface. The flames embedded in its hellforged metal flickered violently. His mind raced through every possible countermeasure. He needed a display of power, something to break the resolve of those who still wavered.

Beelzebub thought she could outmaneuver him. Asmodeus believed he could distract him. The Hive believed it could consume him.

They were all wrong.

Lucifer was no fool. He would let the others think he was backed into a corner. Let them think they had the upper hand.

Then, when they were at their most complacent, he would strike.

He could win, he knew he could…

Morningstar would never return…

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.♚.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Regari wearily lowered his blade as his new mentor called it a day. Honestly, he preferred the Crowfather’s training over Mahaila’s. He was a gentler teacher and had an overall slower pace. It still sucks on many levels, but at least his arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off afterwards.

The Crowfather grinned as he lowered his odd porcelain blade.The blade stretched far and llong, a sinuous arc of deadly elegance that seemed to defy the laws of balance. Forged from an unearthly white porcelain, it bore an ethereal translucence, as though light passed through it but could not escape unaltered. The surface was polished to a mirror-like sheen, yet it was not cold to the touch. Instead, it seemed to pulse with a faint inner warmth, a testament to the ancient magic infused within.

Every inch of the blade was adorned with delicate, spiraling etchings, arcane symbols and flowing script in a language lost to time. These markings, too fine to be seen at a distance, were inlaid with the faintest threads of silver, catching the light with a ghostly glint. The edge was honed to an impossible sharpness, a line so thin it was almost invisible. Running the length of the blade’s spine was a raised ridge, a subtle reinforcement of the delicate porcelain. The curve of the blade was precise and purposeful, crafted to optimize the fluid, sweeping strikes of its wielder.

Regari had heard some old legends on him and this legendary blade. Some old legends speculated that the blade was not a relic of the unknown but a creation of the Crowfather himself. A weapon tailored to his will, forged not by hammer and fire, but by something far older and stranger. The porcelain, they claimed, was not mined or crafted, but conjured into being, shaped by sorcery beyond the reach of mortal smiths. Its length, its curvature, even its eerie hum were reflections of the ancient warrior’s mind, as if the blade had been sculpted from his very essence. Regari now knowing what he does about the old world realised it was probably full of horse shit. It was an interesting thoery but who knows what was possible with the older magics.

The Crowfather never slid the porcelain edge into a scabbard like an ordinary blade. Instead, with a slow, deliberate motion, he let it collapse into dust. The white fragments disintegrated into fine powder, dissolving in the air like mist. The silver veins that once pulsed along its surface broke apart into shimmering specks, spiralling toward a small, unassuming sheath that hung at his side. The dust obeyed his will, flowing inward and vanishing into the narrow scabbard that should never have been able to contain a blade of such length.

Regari watched as he sheathed the blade and once again marvelled at it.

“I’ve wanted to ask…” Regari began but the Crowfather just chuckled.

“How does my blade work?” the Crowfather asked his old eyes twinkling in slight mirth.

Regari paused for a moment and glanced at the scabbard that looked too small to hold a blade that size. He looked up again and nodded.

“That would be a long explanation but perhaps I could just show you.” the Crowfather said as he unsheathed his blade and again the white cloud of powder emerged and neatly formed into that long white blade.

The Crowfather approached and with one hand still on the handle he offered it to Regari. Regari paused as he stared at the handle as if not believing he was being offered this opportunity. He gulped as he reached out for the blade. He grasped the handle and noted its beautiful engravings. It was covered in fabric bearing patterns of black feathers and red eyes. It was an ominous design even for a demon and he was once again reminded of the fact that the Crowfather was in fact a Ravenborn, a race that predates even the demons.

Regari caught a slight glimmer of mirth in the Crowfather’s eyes as he let go. Instantly the blade in Regari’s hand collapsed into powder leaving just the sheathe.

“What?” Regari sputtered.

“It relies on force of will. The stronger the will, the stronger the blade. When you lack conviction, the blade can’t even hold itself together.” the Crowfather explained.

Regari tried to focus his conviction and try to will the blade into shape. Slowly and almost reluctantly the dust formed a small shard of porcelain on the hilt. The shard was not longer than two centimeters and as Regari tried harder, trying to use every fibre of his will the blade only grew another half a centimeter.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

The Crowfather for his part was looking on amused at Regari. He was purple in the face as he tried to force the blade together, well the blade was almost two metres long so he is about one percent there and that’s not even assuming his will can hold up enough to make the blade battle worthy.

He smiled at the sight and nodded slightly. “A good first attempt but it will take more than that.” He took the blade and instantly reformed it into its full splendour.

Regari panted as he wiped the sweat from his brow, “How do you do it?” Regari asked despite his growing headache from the strain.

“Practice, meditation, and thousands of years of loss to harden my resolve.” the Crowfather replied as he returned his blade to it’s sheath.

The Crowfather looked down at Regari and sighed. “Hope you will never be able to use this blade young one. It is burden best left to legend.”

As the Crowfather moved to return to the lounge of the building they were staying in Regari’s voice rang out once again. “Could the Great Beast do it?”

“Yes, his will bends the hive to his designs. The sword answered his call as easily as loyal dog does to its master.” the Crowfather replied in a clipped tone. That moment was once again a reminder of the horror of the Firstborn.

The sword was probably bent to his will, the sword could do nothing but obey.

“The Great Beast called it a clever little trick when he returned it to me.” the Crowfather murmured.

Regari in that moment, could only admit that in the end, the Firstborn were considered gods for a reason.

He was very grateful that his dear sister is now safe somewhere but honestly it all still terrified him. These weren’t powerful demons, demons Regari could understand, but Ancients? They were something else entirely, they were ruthless monsters who saw in things only their material and strategic value.

But to be fair that wasn’t true for the Crowfather or Mahaila but… well… he does also know Serchax and Rosa. Ok maybe Rosa wasn’t that old but from the stories Rosa tells of some of the Hives lieutenants, Regari actually thinks he would be safer in Hell.

“Come along now we need to prepare. We will be heading to Wrath soon.” The Crowfather said as Regari obediently followed.

“Actually of the hive lieutenants, which do you think is the worse?” Regari asked curiously.

“Malegaros is one of the worst.” the Crowfather admitted with a grimace.

“The flesh smith?” Regari asked as he followed along.

“Butcher surgeon would be more apt.” the Crowfather growled.

“I’ve seen the way he works, he keeps his test subject alive and awake as he carves. He views it as more accurate and efficient. Helps weed out the weak specimens.” the Crowfather grumbled.

“So what, he just carves the creatures open when they are alive?” Regari asked as he felt a slight bit of nausea.

“The Hive Creatures are fine with it, they are loyal, absurdly so. Its those that are not part of the hive that are the true victims. They cut humanoids apart just to see how they handle stress.

Despite my moral reservations, I cannot deny its effectiveness. Most old-world strategies are very effective.” the Crowfather said, and then he stopped midstride and turned.

Learn this well young one

The Old World returns, and so do their ways…