Devourer

Chapter 209: A World of Rot

Serchax took a bite of her favorite fried potato snack as she watched the show. To Serchax’s credit, she felt she had done an excellent job running the show. After all, no one had died yet, but that might change in the near future. Old Tobias had decided to follow this merry band, after all.

What a fall from grace this poor soul had. Once, he was a semi-competent warrior, but now he was just a rage-filled mess—a soldier without a cause, or perhaps a fanatic without one.

It was a good thing, really, that Mahaila popped back. Serchax would have just killed him. At least Mahaila would give him a chance to walk away, or maybe just beat him to the floor.

Mahaila had returned from hell to check on things, and it just so happened that this idiot had finally found them.

"Hello, Uncle," Mahaila greeted Tobias, her voice cold, her hands lightly resting on the handles of her rapiers.

"Mahaila, where is it?" Tobias spat.

"Where is what?" Mahaila asked as she stared him down.

"The Great Beast? You smell of Terra. You left recently. There is no world gate here," Tobias said, his approach and tone betraying his desperation.

"Not one more step. I do not have the power to free you of your chains. It is no one's fault but your own that you bear the Morningstar Brand," Mahaila warned Tobias, her right blade leaving its hilt ever so slightly.

"No, not you. The Great Beast does. I know what it is. It can free me," Tobias said.

"As you are, he would more than likely just eat you," Serchax said with a laugh.

Tobias twitched at those words, turning towards Serchax as if he were about to pounce on her.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Mahaila said, stepping towards Serchax as if she were about to shield her.

"She doesn’t need your protection," Tobias spat.

"No, you do. The only thing keeping you alive right now is me and those potato snacks in her hand," Mahaila said, glancing at Serchax, who was still happily munching away.

"If you truly suffer so much, I could always set you free," Serchax said with a gleam in her eyes. The glowing arcane eye on her forehead flashed to life, and Tobias took an uneasy step back.

Serchax didn’t actually have a human form; it was an illusion. But her illusion magic was powerful enough that it could lie to the world itself, causing the transformation to become reality.

"I suggest you leave," Mahaila said as she glanced down at his chest, where the Morningstar was branded into his flesh.

"You struck a bargain, Uncle. Magne Morningstar is not a kind woman. I thought you knew that going in," Mahaila stated, and Tobias’s face visibly turned purple.

"Don’t…" Mahaila warned, but it was too late. Tobias drew his battle axe and swung at Mahaila.

In a flash, Mahaila had drawn her right rapier and parried the swing.

"Don’t…" Mahaila warned again, but he kept going.

Serchax could see the obvious skill difference. Mahaila’s movements were efficient and controlled, while Tobias fought like a wild berserker. It was a poor strategy, considering Mahaila had felled dragons singlehandedly. Even Serchax herself had little interest in fighting her. But for someone like Tobias? Well, Serchax enjoyed a fun distraction like anyone else.

Each wild swing was easily parried by Mahaila as Tobias's face purpled with rage and desperation.

"[Blackflame Tempest]!" Tobias roared as his axe ignited with black flame.

Serchax smirked as she saw Mahaila’s eyes narrow. That was a dangerous spell. Those black flames ignite anything they touch and are a pain to extinguish. They literally burn the soul from the body.

Mahaila ducked under the swing and delivered a hard punch to Tobias with her left hand. The strike stunned Tobias, and with his concentration broken, the black flame went out. Then, with a speed Serchax couldn’t even follow, Mahaila’s right foot shot toward Tobias’s head. Her raptor claws closed around his skull, and he was brought down into the dirt.

"I suggest you go off and cool down," Mahaila said simply, digging her talons into Tobias’s throat.

"The Great Beast will not return for a few more weeks at least. You may speak with him then," Mahaila said coldly as she released him.

Tobias got to his feet, thoroughly humiliated, his face still twisted with rage.

"Careful, Uncle. If we do this again, I am going to kill you. For the friendship we once shared, please leave for now. We’ve both lost enough friends," Mahaila said, and Tobias gritted his teeth before turning away.

Serchax watched as Tobias stormed off, casting a hateful glance at Alastor, who just shrugged in response.

"Do I seem like an honest man? Did you expect me to stick my neck out for you? Your usefulness ran out the moment I realized the Daemon Princes knew about this whole thing. Consider yourself thrown under the wagon," Alastor said, and Tobias visibly twitched in anger.

"Uncle," Mahaila snapped, snapping Tobias back to reality.

"Go," Mahaila said evenly.

"I suggest you go, little one. She is practically pleading for your life. You should know I’m running out of snacks," Serchax said, waving her last potato chip.

Tobias gritted his teeth as he finally stormed away.

Serchax laughed at the pathetic sight and grinned as Mahaila rounded on her.

"Are you insane?" Mahaila hissed at Serchax.

"You know he isn’t stable. Stop goading him," Mahaila spat.

"Unlike you, we don’t feel much of anything toward him. From where I’m sitting, you should have just killed him. Unstable and uncontrollable tools are not useful things," Rosa said from the side as Regari and Sena hid behind her.

"It’s not that simple," Mahaila retorted.

"It is," Serchax said simply, dusting off her hands after eating her last chip.

"Careful you don’t compromise my lord’s designs because of your sentimentality. Your timely arrival saved his life," Serchax said, her smile fading for a moment as her form shimmered, revealing a flash of the monster the Deep Shaper created. The old gods do not create kind servants.

"That is for the Great Beast to decide—whether he is useful or not. The Great Beast has shown some interest in him, and in all the members of my master’s old group," Mahaila said, and Serchax cracked a crooked smile.

"I wonder how much of that is just morbid and meaningless curiosity. Remember this well, Mahaila: I know the Old Gods better than most," Serchax said with a wicked smile.

Their blessings are never free.

The more desperate you are, the more they will take…

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.♚.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Ohhh…

Oooooo…

I like that guy. Angry, deranged, and above all, desperate. The desperate have no bargaining power. Those goatlike horns remind me a bit of the Ostayans. But then again, horns are the lineage of the Demons; the Umbarans also have horns. The only humanoids with horns are those who trace their lineage to the first Demons.

Furthermore, I recognize those cloven hooves. Only the most ancient of Demons have bestial legs. The Ostayans had bestial traits, certainly, but they didn’t have the same affinity for magic. They only kept their bestial forms because of their reliance on brute strength.

As always with most forms of decay in this world, the most unnecessary ones go first. With most of the Searing Hells being giant slums, it’s natural that the physical traits would decay first. But for a creature to have both, they must have been born before the decline.

I might actually be able to infect this one with the Mind Bore Parasite as a term. Although, it would be a hard sell, I’ll admit. The Morningstar Brand is proof of servitude; it would just be trading one master for another. The best I could do is offer a more lenient form of servitude. But judging by his reaction, he’s not going to accept any more chains.

Still, I really do like Mahaila’s attitude. She folded that fool like an omelet. It was amazing to watch. I wish I had some snacks like Serchax did. Might be a good idea to start up a movie industry or something... huh... that’s actually not a bad idea.

But I suppose that’s for another time. Mahaila did mention she was the best duelist in the world. Technically, slaying a large monster isn’t considered a duel. A duel is closer to two humanoids squaring off, so you could say she was in her element in that fight. A one-on-one duel is probably where she would shine. The Crowfather, on the other hand, seems to be a weaker duelist, but it seems he’s far more capable in large-scale battles thanks to his magical proficiency. But one-on-one with someone like Mahaila? The Crowfather would most likely lose his head in that scenario.

As with the Hive, it is always important to use tools in the most effective way. That was the mistake of the old Firstborn—they squandered their tools and even let themselves be undone by their own creations. For all their strength, they couldn’t imagine a world without them. That was their weakness, and I have no intention of following them into oblivion.

I disconnected from the Hive in hell and switched back to the brood in Divonia. They were hard at work helping a group of people they were actively undermining. It was also great theater, honestly.

It was quite funny how things turned out. When I first showed up in this world, I thought I would run around and eat everything to get bigger, but it turns out that wasn’t the best strategy. Now I’m just this shadowy puppet master pulling strings in the background. To its credit, it’s really effective.

I mean, just look at Divonia. Originally, I had plans for an all-out war with them, but now they’re tearing themselves apart for me. Heck, even some of the Merchant Princes are thinking of switching sides to the Averlonian Empire. Merchants, at the end of the day, are pragmatists. There will be those who choose to back the winning side.

“Ego, how are your plans going?” I asked into the Hive mind.

“Very well, my king. I have quite the surprise for the Divonian Crown. They are moving vast quantities of food from the Valley of Plenty. They’re paying exorbitant prices, but it’s either that or face collapse,” Ego said.

“You want to target that supply line,” I said, and I got a gleeful affirmative in response.

“The supply line goes through a mountain pass. There’s a narrow choke point. The supplies can either go through this particular route or use the safer path, but that’s clogged with desperate refugees,” Ego said.

Hmm, if a caravan filled with food moves past starving refugees, they’ll just rob it. So they have no choice but to take this alternative route. From what I see, it’s also shorter but more dangerous because of the mountain cold. But the dangers can be addressed as long as you have resources. If that mountain pass is cut off, then the door to the Valley will be closer.

Which means…

I CAN SELL THE FOOD INSTEAD!

I love money...

But do you know what I love more than money?

My enemies being poor!

“My King? Do I have your permission to proceed?” Ego asked, snapping me back to reality.

“Huh? Oh yeah, go ahead, do the landslide thing you wanted. It’s the only way you can permanently destroy the pass without revealing yourself. So yeah, get to it. Collapse away,” I said, and Ego gave me another affirmative.

Ok, onto the next thing...

Sometimes I just feel like a bureaucrat...

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.♚.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Third Prince Jacovich nodded grimly to his attendant as he read the latest news. An entire caravan filled with exorbitantly priced food had just been buried in a landslide, severing the last lifeline of food from the Valley of Plenty to the Divonian Empire.

The harvest had completely failed. Corrupt officials, swayed by demons and their cults, had caused the entire farming industry to collapse. Outrageous taxes, severe punishments—like drawing and quartering for failure to pay—hadn't made the peasants contribute. Instead, it had driven them to run away. Some, in their spite, had even burned the granaries as they fled.

The nobles, meanwhile, squandered their coin on gambling and women. Jacovich suspected Averlonian agents were involved, but he could prove nothing. In times of chaos and mismanagement, criminals always attempted to turn a profit. It was just that this all seemed too... convenient.

And now? The mountain pass was destroyed by a landslide?

The week before, an investigator poised to flush out a cult had been murdered in his home.

A month prior, a royal investigation team had vanished in the slums—an entire squad of royal guards, elite warriors capable of slaying demons, disappearing without a trace?

It was all too suspicious.

He had no choice. Tomorrow, he would sail to the Isles of Gold and confer with the Merchant Princes. He planned to set up a temporary government on the eastern coast, far from the capital. It would be seen as treason, and he would surely be branded a traitor, but the arrangements were already in motion. The reserve army and the fragmented divisions were willing to defect. The officers and generals had already made up their minds.

This was their last chance to save the Divonian Empire.

Even many in the priesthood were on board, and word had already been sent ahead to the cities in the east. Still, food was the central problem. The Merchant Princes could help, but they would demand exorbitant prices. If his government survived in the short term, Jacovich hoped he could persuade them to lower prices for the sake of future goodwill. Perhaps, if he did his job well enough, he might even gain the sanction of the Angels—a move that would curry further favor with the Merchant Princes, who, greedy as they were, were still loyal to High Heaven.

If everything fell into place, perhaps the current Empire—so weak and rotted from within—wouldn't even be able to muster a force to prevent the secession.

“Your wine, Your Highness,” one of his maids said as she placed a cup on his desk.

“Not wine, water. I will be awake for some time,” Jacovich replied. The maid bowed and removed the wine, replacing it with water.

He took a sip and noticed an unusually dry aftertaste. His throat felt parched, and he realized how engrossed he’d been in his work—neglecting even his own needs. He coughed, clearing his throat, and straightened his back as he glanced at the papers on his desk. There wasn’t much time; everything had to be perfect.

Jacovich was the only legitimate heir who hadn't been charmed by the demons. His second brother had already been crucified by Archangel Silvana, and his two sisters had followed soon after. Silvana had warned the king and his eldest brother that if they didn’t get a grip on the situation, they would be next. The only reason they had been spared was that they had no direct affiliations with demons. But Jacovich knew better—his brother and father were deep in bed with the cults. The only reason he hadn’t turned them in was because he, too, had broken laws to fight them, even having corrupt priests killed for aiding the cults.

Inquisitors had strung up thousands of souls and turned them into pyres. Jacovich had no doubt he would meet the same fate for his involvement if discovered. Children had been crucified for not reporting their parents, so mercy was out of the question.

He coughed again, and this time, he tasted blood. Looking down, he saw a splatter of red on his parchment. He touched his nose and saw blood on his fingers. His coughing grew more violent, the taste of iron overwhelming his senses as warm blood gushed from his mouth, staining his sleeves.

Jacovich froze. The room began to swim around him, and as he looked up, he saw the twisted smiles of his attendants. They were watching him with delight. He glanced at the cup of water, his stomach sinking as he realized the truth.

“Poison…” he rasped, struggling to stand, but his legs refused to obey. He coughed again, blood pouring from his lips.

His attendants were no longer human. Their forms had shifted into grotesque, eyeless creatures with wide, sinister smiles plastered across their faces. He tried to call for help, but the words wouldn’t come. His body was shutting down—his limbs heavy, his breathing shallow, his vision narrowing.

One of the creatures approached him and knelt down.

"Hello. You can call me Ego," the creature said softly, its smile widening.

“You had a good plan, but unfortunately, I can’t let you go through with it,” Ego continued, watching Jacovich struggle to move.

“Monster…” Jacovich croaked, his voice barely a whisper as his strength ebbed away. His fingers twitched, but his body was already limp. His vision tunneled to darkness, the last thing he saw was Ego’s satisfied grin.

My king will see your home rot. You will not interfere…