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Kamish settled, his immense, shadowy scales shifting like plates of dark metal. They climbed back aboard, while Igris stood like a sentinel on the great beast's neck.
"There is a fortification not far from here," Igris said respectfully. "Our soldiers have already prepared it. It is operational and will serve as our base of operations in this realm… and for the Monarch."
John Constantine, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his thumb, paused, the match burning down to his fingers before he shook it out. "Woah there, knight. Pump the brakes. Are you seriously telling me Arthur already built a bloody fort here? In Hell? When did he have the sodding time?"
Igris turned his helmeted head, the violet slit of his visage fixed on John. "My liege did so the moment we set foot upon this soil. In secret. With one look, he understood this plane answers only to power and war. It was… prudent to establish a foothold that answered solely to him." The knight's gaze drifted towards the jagged, burning horizon. "This place… it reminded him of a certain realm he once knew."
John exhaled a plume of smoke, his brows furrowed. "Reminded him? How many ancient, war-torn hellscapes has the lad been to? Just how old is he again?"
From beside him, Zatanna adjusted her top hat, her sharp eyes calculating. "So he disseminated his shadows the instant we arrived. Without a word. A covert deployment right under our noses."
"I'm not complaining, that's the smartest thing he could've done, love," John grumbled, though a thread of professional respect wove through his annoyance. "If we'd taken a tumble straight into Neron's clutches, or gotten cozy with one of the other fallen choirboys, that kind of intel would've been peeled from our minds in a heartbeat. The bastard knows what he's doing. He's proven that. Doesn't mean this isn't about to get monumentally messy."
From the shadows near Kamish's wing joint, a low, rumbling chuckle echoed. "The die is cast, and the pieces move! So now, officially, the Shadow Monarch's claim is staked in Hell's own game. A new faction enters the fray, a claimant to the infernal throne. The others will seethe, particularly the deal-maker, Neron!" Etrigan's eyes glowed.
"Knock it off, Etrigan," John sighed, the weariness of ages in his voice. "I mean, who in this sulfur-scented asylum doesn't want to be the top dog? Every damn dimwit with a pointy tail and an inferiority complex is scrabbling for the crown."
"Because with the throne comes power," Zatanna stated, her voice clear and cool. "True, absolute power over an entire dimension."
"And no one's ever truly managed to hold it," John said, his gaze distant. "Not for long. Not in any way that mattered. Except for Lucifer Morningstar himself. The original article. Everyone else is just a squatter in a ruined palace."
Kara Zor-El had been quiet, her cape stirring in the hot, foul wind. She stood at the edge of Kamish's shoulder, her eyes scanning the impossible expanse. The Kryptonian vision took in leagues of torment in a single glance: seas of fire, mountains of broken teeth, swarming, endless legions of demons in grotesque variety. A somber weight settled on her features.
"It's… vast," she said, her voice softer than they were used to. "I can see… countless armies. Movements across entire regions. It's not just a battle. It's a world at perpetual war." She turned back to them, a flicker of the hope that usually defined her dimmed by the scale of it all. "This won't be over soon, will it?"
John took a final, long drag on his cigarette before flicking it into the abyss below. It spiraled down like a tiny, doomed star. "Naturally, Sunshine. This is Hell. There are billions upon billions here. Souls, demons, monsters, the whole rotten lot. And the size of dear old Earth?" He gave a hollow, mirthless smile. "It's a speck of dust compared to this. A single, miserable borough in an infinite, screaming metropolis."
Kamish, sensing the unspoken command from Igris, beat his wings once, a thunderclap that sent tremors through the rock below. They ascended, leaving a plume of dark smoke, heading towards a new stronghold, a fort built by shadows and foresight, the first true move in a game where the only rule was power.
****
Kamish cut through Hell like a living catastrophe.
The massive shadow dragon flew at incredible speed, his wings slicing through storm clouds of ash and ember. Rivers of molten fire blurred beneath them, entire demonic cities shrinking into distant embers as they crossed distances that should have taken days in mere minutes.
Yet even at that terrifying pace…
it still took time.
Time enough for the sky to shift from blood-red to bruised violet.
Time enough for the land below to change from war-torn plains to jagged wastelands littered with ancient bones, broken fortresses, and half-buried relics of forgotten hell-lords.
John squinted through the rushing wind.
"Remind me," he muttered, gripping a ridge of Kamish's shadow scales, "to never complain about commercial flights again."
Zatanna smirked faintly, hair whipping around her face.
"You'd still complain about something," she said lightly.
"Yeah," John admitted. "But at least I wouldn't be worried about being destroyed by the air itself."
Etrigan remained seated, eyes narrowed at the endless inferno below.
Kara hovered near the edge of Kamish's back, eyes scanning the horizon.
Then she stiffened.
"…There," she said quietly. "Do you see that?"
Far ahead, something different rose from the chaos.
A fortress.
Not the kind built by demons
but something more.. Human.
As Kamish closed the distance, the structure became clearer.
A remote stronghold carved into a mountain of black stone, perched on a desolate ridge far from the larger hell-cities. The land around it was scorched bare, as if the world itself refused to grow near it.
Black banners hung from its towers.
But the fort itself wasn't what stole their breath.
It was what stood outside it.
Kamish descended, slowing just enough for them to take in the sight.
An army.
Of Shadows.
Rows upon rows of shadow soldiers stood in disciplined silence, humanoid silhouettes with glowing eyes, their forms pulsing with power.
Towering among them were shadow giants, colossal figures of living darkness.
Demon knights in blackened armor stood at attention, blades planted into the ground like grave markers.
And beyond them…
The generals and the marshals.
Ultra hovered slightly above the ground.
Beru stood with arms folded at the fort gate.
Doom stood next to him in silence, his shadow body heavier, denser, spikes faintly glinting with violet light.
Galatea floated near the fortress gates as well, regal and composed.
The few marshals who were present here, the dangerous presences that felt less like soldiers and more like walking disasters.
John stared.
"…Bloody hell," he breathed. "He wasn't kidding about building an army."
Zatanna's voice was softer, touched with awe.
"This isn't just a base," she murmured. "It's a clear declaration of war. Surely every demon lord in hell already felt them."
Etrigan clicked his tongue.
"He was preparing…" the demon rumbled.
Kara's eyes widened as she scanned the lineup.
"So many of his strongest shadows are here…" she whispered. "Galatea. Ultra. Beru. Doom…"
Kamish landed with a heavy impact, cracking the ground beneath him.
Before anyone else could speak, Kara jumped down first, boots hitting the black stone with a dull thud.
She headed straight for Galatea.
"When did you guys do all this?" Kara asked.
Galatea inclined her head respectfully.
"Mostly his doing," she said calmly, nodding toward Beru. "But it was the King's orders. We are to remain here… for now."
Beru gave a faint, sharp grin.
"A battlefield always needs a nest," he added lightly. "This one will do."
Etrigan's gaze drifted past them
to another group standing further back.
Figures in a dark, yet luminous armor. Wings of shadow and violet light.
He stiffened.
"Angels..." he muttered. "Just like the one I fought."
His eyes narrowed, suspicious and unsettled.
"How does he have angels in his ranks?"
Kara shot him a look.
"Aren't you nosy."
John snorted.
"You don't actually know either, do you, sunshine?"
Kara turned away a little too quickly.
"…None of your business."
John raised a brow.
"Well, I don't think they're angels," he said thoughtfully. "Not the real deal, anyway. Real angels? One of them can flip the balance of Hell on its head."
He glanced at the glowing figures.
"And if Arthur had actually killed that many angels to make shadows out of them…" He whistled. "The consequences would be apocalyptic."
Kara frowned. "Angels are the good guys, right? In that case Arthur wouldn't harm one."
Zatanna hesitated.
"… It's hard to say, Never seen an angel except for Lucifer and he is a fallen one but.." she said carefully.
Then she looked at John.
"You saw the shadow that fought Etrigan. The one with wings."
"Bellion," Kara supplied.
"Yeah," Zatanna nodded. "You sure he's not an A..?"
John didn't let her finish. "I don't want to think about it," he muttered. "Some doors are better left closed."
Galatea turned back to the group, composed and welcoming.
"Please," she said, gesturing toward the fortress gates, "you may all stay inside the fort. It's rather cozy."
A faint smirk crossed her lips.
"The ant made sure of it."
John blinked.
"…The ant?"
Beru's grin widened just a fraction.
"The Monarch will be here shortly," Galatea added.
John exhaled, rubbing his chin.
"Right," he said. "Then we should probably talk strategy before the walking catastrophe gets back."
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want