"He's a disgrace. What's the point of raising him? It would be a mercy to just let him die."
A woman with blonde hair and wine-red eyes scoffed in the grand hall, her right arm folded beneath her breasts as she spoke in the demonic language.
A thousand voices answered at once, a cacophony of profanities that somehow formed coherent words. From the chilling darkness that sent shivers down every spine, an elongated arm emerged, its dark, ferocious claws picking at a heart and lungs sacrificed by devil worshipers. "And since when were you the one making decisions? Your only job was to give birth to him. Now it's done. So have a fraction of gratitude, that failure is what's keeping you alive."
The woman stilled, her expression showing clear displeasure, but she kept her mouth shut, fearful of the patriarch's rage.
Then dark gates opened, and a young man stepped into the hall. His expression was cold and expressionless, pitch-black hair lustrous and beautiful, dark eyes like two pools of reflectionless abyss.
He looked at the devils gathered within, then lowered his gaze, eyes growing distant as he proclaimed loudly enough for all to hear: "What's the meaning of this?"
The woman stared at him with seething malice, biting her nails nervously before spitting her words with venom. "This doesn't concern you, Mikhail. This is about my failure of a son, refusing to do as he's ordered, doing as he pleases, disregarding our opinions as if we're nothing!"
Mikhail blinked, raising an eyebrow as a pale smile found its way onto his face. He pressed a hand to his cheek. "You cretins... Criminal, the very beginning of this path, teaches us rebellion and the pursuit of our own individuality."
He shook his head with a blank, pitying expression, staring down at them. "Leave my brother alone. He won't obey you if you order something he doesn't want to do."
He paused, his eyes dimming with memory as a faint smile touched his lips. "He's always been... a devil chasing an endless horizon."
....
"Are you meditating?"
Amelia's question hung in the air while Sam sat cross-legged on the grass, eyes closed and expression serene as he murmured something in a language she couldn't understand. It resembled Elvish, yet felt fundamentally alien.
Sam remained silent for a second longer, then nodded and opened his eyes, ending the bizzare chant as Amelia shivered. The words had carried a palpable wrongness, filled with malice and filth, as though they'd crawled up from the Abyss itself.
"Mm... It stabilizes spirituality." Sam exhaled slowly, rising to his feet. Crazed state he was in before faded, replaced by an unsettling tranquility. "Devils lose control more easily than other Beyonders, even when we know the acting method. To counter this, Paimon, one of the Dukes of the Abyss, experimented on devils and developed specific techniques to stabilize fluctuating spirituality. Many devils were sacrificed so this skill could exist."
He dusted off his trousers, stretching his sore arms, his eyes half lidded and lazy as he continued. "Cogitation is the mainstream method for strengthening the spirit body, but it's universal by design, not specialized. Since devils' souls are tainted by the Abyss, we're more vulnerable to losing control, and cogitation isn't as effective for us. That's why this technique was created. It allows us to influence all four levels of the soul: the Spirit Body, Astral Projection, Body of Heart and Mind, and Ether Body."
He yawned, scratching his belly, his stomach throwing all kinds of profanities at him. "In other words, this technique strengthens our Spirit Body and relieves its burdens. It banishes fog from our Astral Projection, gives us clarity regarding our emotions and aspirations, calms our Island of Consciousness, and prevents mutation by stabilizing our Ether Bodies. It's not all-powerful, same as Cogitation, but for devils, it's far more valuable."
Amelia blinked, touching her chin as she processed this. The technique sounded absurd, like a fairytale. If such a skill truly existed, countless Criminals wouldn't lose control and turn into beasts. But Sam had mentioned this 'Paimon', calling Her a Duke. Among devils, that made Her royalty. Which meant... if Sam had access to such a technique and knew this specific devil... Shit, was he from a Devil Family?
She swallowed hard, suppressing both curiosity and lingering fear. And while the technique seemed ridiculously powerful, that didn't mean it couldn't exist. As Sam said, countless devils had been sacrificed to create it. In other words, devils gained a valuable tool, but they also paid the price.
While Hermes had created a mystical language, something only gods should be capable of, He didn't need to make such a sacrifice. In a way, Hermes's creation was even more outrageous than Paimon's, since Ancient Hermes was universally used by denizens of the Spirit World, even if their origins in life were different.
For Beyonders, the Hermes language is the one that must be mastered. It was based on Jotun and Dragonese, and similar to Dragonese and Elvish, the effect of this language was direct and effective.
So it wasn't beyond reason that this 'Paimon' could create something as harrowing yet practical as the skill Sam was using, if an even more ridiculous feat was accomplished by someone who wasn't a deity, same as Her.
"What's it called?" After a moment's hesitation, Amelia couldn't contain her curiosity and asked, her eyes sparkling with interest. "And… can I learn it?"
Sam studied her for several seconds, then shook his head. "It's called... Ghastly Requiem. And, not really. Paimon knew secret organizations and churches would covet such a skill. That's why She restricted it to those who carry devil blood. She even spread information about it during the beginning of the Fifth Epoch, baiting organizations to compete for Her legacy. It was all for nothing. Her 'legacy' was nothing but a trap, saturated with abyssal corruption, driving Beyonders mad or enslaving their souls. Unless you carry devil blood, you can't learn it. It's similar to how certain ritualistic magics can only be performed by Seers, Mystery Pryers, or Secret Supplicants. It's Demonic Magic."
Amelia nodded, feeling disheartened as she looked down. Seeing this, Sam's lips curled in levity as he patted her shoulder and walked ahead. "Don't be discouraged. It's not like you need to worry about losing control regularly."
Hearing this, Amelia nodded in understanding, a deep sigh escaping her lips as she realized how idiotic her question had been. Why was she feeling disheartened? She was relatively safe because of the acting method. But Sam lived in constant danger, perpetually monitoring his sanity to avoid becoming an abomination.
After their small conversation, they prepared their equipment in silence. Amelia handled the ammunition, oiling the revolvers and cleaning them meticulously. She also made wooden shields and torches, along with thermite bombs crafted from the last bits of materials she had, all laid out beside her on the grass.
Yuri sharpened daggers and knives on a stone he'd scavenged, while Sam departed to track the Rat King.
After half an hour, he returned, looking at them awkwardly, his mouth twitching as he held back a laugh. "Well... I think I found it."
"Where?" Amelia asked with a yawn, sprawled on the grass and leaning against a tree. She reloaded her revolver, spinning the cylinder playfully.
"Well... it's a contaminated area where sewage is dumped from Constant City, ten kilometers from here, north. The Rat King's dwelling there." He stated with a bright smile while Amelia's eyes widened in horror, color draining from her face as she trembled, weak laughter escaping her lips.
"N-no... No way..." she muttered, her eye twitching.
"Sadly... yes." Sam nodded with helpless shrug, not really giving damn about it.
"Then let's depart immediately. We have no time to waste." Yuri stood, handing his pack to Sam, who accepted it and checked his daggers and knives before sheathing them with a satisfied nod.
Sam pulled Amelia to her feet and patted her shoulder. "Here we go again..."
"Nooo!" she yelled, kicking his leg with a bloodthirsty sneer before leaping onto his back and punching the back of his head.
Sam sighed, grabbed her arm, and threw her onto the grass with an unimpressed look, following Yuri without looking back wbile tears welled in Amelia's eyes. "That's... not where a lady should be..."
"You're not a lady. Let's go, dude." Sam waved dismissively, walking ahead while Amelia gritted her teeth and followed reluctantly, wiping her tears as she glared at Sam with bitterness.
Since all three were Beyonders, they covered the ten-kilometer distance in an hour, their enhanced physiques making the journey manageable. Even so, Amelia arrived exhausted, breathing heavily as they reached a lake of filth. It was brownish-yellow in color, with bubbles rising and bursting on the surface. Garbage from the city choked the shoreline, and beside this wretched cesspool stood a small cave.
The Rat King's not-so-beautiful abode.
Rat Kings were valuable creatures to devils, one of the ingredients for their potions. Because of this, Rat Kings lived in the Abyss as well. Or more accurately, they were dragged there by devils and forced to adapt to that lightless land. Though, they managed easily enough since they were nocturnal by nature.
In the Abyss, rats were bred en masse, tainted by corruption and filth so that Rat Kings could be born. They were like cows, but instead of milk, devils harvested potion ingredients and materials for ritualistic magic from them. They were truly pitiful beings, yet simultaneously vile.
Every aristocrat of the Abyss knew about the creatures necessary for advancement, devil worship knowledge, ritualistic magic, and demonic spells.
And since Sam was noble, he knew them too. Be it, the environments they preferred, their behavioral patterns, or traits, everything recorded in Paimon's library.
When it came to Paimon, Sam's feelings were complicated. He respected Her strength and creativity, but he also couldn't help feeling disgust. That was how twisted She was, and Her methods were even more appalling. And no, he wasn't overreacting. She really was that disturbing. Besides, She was the Devil of Transgression, the strongest devil in the Abyss, with the sole exception of the Dark Side of the Universe, of course.
In a way, She resembled Emperor Roselle, making revolutionary discoveries, but in mysticism and demonic magic rather than technology.
Which made sense. She was the Head of the Nois Family, after all. One of the most powerful families in the Abyss, perhaps the most powerful.
Though if the Devil of Ruination became an Angel... well, rankings would shift, Sam supposed.
Still, he wondered: who would win... Ruination or Transgression?
He shivered, shaking his head and trying to focus on the task. Thinking about powerful devils was discouraging because of how vast and dreadful they were.
But deep down, he knew that not everything was so simple. Before he left, the Naboredisley Family had been collecting mystical items, sealed artifacts, and ingredients.
Sam was a child back then, but he wasn't an idiot. Even if he was burdened with the glorious purpose of cleaning demonic horses' shit, he still understood that chaos was stirring in the Abyss. Every devil was unique, but every single one of them were selfish, with flames of ambition burning in their hearts to reign over all.
Sam exhaled, shaking his head and refocusing on the Rat King. As Yuri and Amelia arrived near the cave entrance, he glanced at them and whispered, "The Rat King isn't exactly a powerful monster, but it's annoying to deal with. It can command other rats, and they're nocturnal."
He studied the cave mouth, saturated with chilling shadows, then blinked and hit his open palm with his fist, afaint smile crossing his face. "Oh, I almost forgot, don't let them injure you, or you'll be infected with all kinds of diseases."
Yuri nodded solemnly, his dull eyes dimming further as he took a deep breath and retrieved the torches and shields they'd prepared.
Amelia shivered. She didn't relish the idea of walking into a cave infested with rats. I'd rather burn down another prison... she thought with a pained expression, accepting the shield and torch she'd fashioned in the forest.
"You two will attract them with noise. Scream, shout od whatever works. Just make sure the King sends its minions after you. Meanwhile, I'll sneak up on it and finish it off. Light doesn't harm them, but it blinds them, causes sensory overload which means..." Sam smiled softly, looking at Amelia expectantly who groaned and handed him the thermite bombs.
"Don't waste these. I'm warning you." She hissed, grabbing his shirt with a cold, seething look. "If I find out you threw them away uselessly, I'm going to drown you in this lake of shit."
Sam raised his arms in surrender with a helpless smile. "Fine, fine. No need for threats."
He muttered curse under his breath, pulling his hair back. Come to think of it, his hair had already reached shoulder length.
Seeing his confirmation, Amelia smiled in satisfaction, arms crossed beneath her breasts as she nodded with a pleased hum. Then she opened her eyes, noticed his thoughtful expression as he stared at his hair, and sighed. "Come here."
Sam blinked, glancing at her in surprise, but nonetheless obeyed. She forced him to sit by pushing down on his shoulders until he settled onto a stone. With a mischievous grin, she positioned herself behind him and started fussing with his hair.
A minute later, Sam stared at his reflection on a blade, his expression utterly bleak and unimpressed.
"What the heck is this?" he asked, staring at the messy bun. It wasn't even done well...
"Hah? You look pretty, though." Amelia scowled, irritated that her work wasn't appreciated.
"My brother from another mother..." Sam's lips pursed, his eyes dreary. "I'm going to fight rats. Why would I need to look pretty?"
"Oh... Sorry. My bad." Amelia nodded sheepishly and sat behind him again, her legs encircling his waist as she reworked his hair.
Now, Sam was at least ready to fight. His hair was tied neatly in a way that wouldn't interrupt combat. But then a sudden idea struck him. "I'm so stupid... Why didn't I just cut-"
"Nooooooo..." Amelia hissed, grabbing his hand and wrenching the dagger away from his hair with all her strength. "Cutting hair that beautiful is a sin. Don't you dare."
"Huh? Are you an idiot?"
"No, you're an idiot. Go to hell, bastard."
"I came from hell, punk."
"Children..." Both of them froze as Yuri spoke, staring at them sternly, his dull eyes regaining their luster. "I think we're in a hurry."
Sam and Amelia, now sprawled on the dirty ground, pulling each other's hair, coughed awkwardly, stood up, and collected their equipment with awkward nods.
"Yes, I know, sir." Amelia nodded seriously.
"I... just go inside. Don't forget to make a lot of noise, guys." Sam muttered, walking into the cave and hiding his face.
Yuri shook his head, smiling wryly. Children, huh… Sometimes he forgot that Sam was only fifteen and Amelia no older than nineteen. They were both children. How easy it was to forget when they could so easily bring catastrophes despite being so weak...
Both of them were exceptional, and to be honest, insane. Perhaps that was the quality that would allow them to shine in a world where madness and suffering were inevitable.