The Twelve Apocalypses: A Damned Soul's Path to the Abyss

Anger coursed through me like thick, bitter syrup, infecting every inch of my soul.

The urge to find those responsible was overwhelming. I wanted to find them, and then inflict unspeakable pain upon them, tortures I’d only ever seen bored trainees perform on slaves.

Unfortunately, reality cared very little for my desires. I had to stand there, waiting, as Glaustro and Graighast ordered the demons to sweep for other survivors. They briefly considered giving the same order to the mortal troops, but discarded the idea quickly. We were neither sensitive enough to track mana properly, nor powerful enough to assist if we found someone under rubble.

That was a fair assessment, even if it did mean my blinding rage still had no outlet.

"We can only hope that the others have seen similar levels of devastation dealt to their own troops." Graighast’s callous words pierced through my furious haze, and I glanced at his expression.

It was a dreadful mix of anger and towering fear. For a moment, I couldn’t understand that particular combination, but then the words Hayden heard in the training camp far too often echoed in my mind.

Demons do not tolerate failure.

If other troops had fared just as badly as we did, then we wouldn’t necessarily be perceived as failures. Sure, the invasion would still be floundering, but at least they couldn’t single out our two commanders. We would only be in trouble if the general decided to burn an entire invasion force to the ground just to prove a point. Considering how many resources that would waste? I was pretty sure we were in the clear for that scenario.

Besides, there was another option, one that Graighast didn’t mention. That was rather kind of him, actually. Since a decent number of us managed to survive, if any of the other sergeants got completely wiped out, we would automatically be shining examples of demonic excellence, no?

I was surprised that I could think so analytically. Fury was still burning inside my chest. Normally, such an overwhelming emotion would have sent me into a destructive spiral.

But with each passing moment, I found myself feeling oddly… focused. The rage was definitely still there. It still fought to drive my actions, and I was even inclined to let it. But it was freezing over, crystallizing into an efficient fuel that promised true vengeance for my foes rather than my own fiery death.

"We don’t have time for this shit," Glaustro snapped, pulling my attention back to the two commanders. I idly noted that he usually descended into vulgarity only when he was really upset. "Damn it all, we’re going to have to burn good souls just to establish an anchor point here. Is it even worth it?"

"Yes," his brother was quick to assure him. "If we do that quickly, we can be the first, or among the first, to report what happened here."

"And get fucking punished for it? You really want to drag this shit to the general?"

Glaustro was a snarling mask of fury, but his brother refused to flinch.

"As opposed to what?" Graighast demanded. "Hiding it? How? At a glance, we’ve lost at least two thirds of our men. The only ones still alive are skilled mages and the lucky few who somehow managed to avoid the worst of the blast. Don’t be daft, brother. There is no concealing this. We would be severely punished if we tried. Presenting valuable intelligence might even see us rewarded for our haste."

Glaustro’s mace creaked from the fury of his grip, but he nodded. "Fine, then. We’ll… go together. The failure is ours to share. I’ll start establishing the anchoring ritual. You wrap up here. I don’t want any of our men to accidentally get swept up in that shit and disappear to who knows where when the spatial magic kicks in."

The mention of said magic made me wince.

It wasn’t like I was surprised. Of course, spatial magic was involved in the demonic transformation of conquered cities. I had literally watched space ripple and waver as houses were replaced by demonic stores.

But the more I learned about spatial magic, the less I understood, and the more terrifying it seemed.

That was… unsettling.

Graighast simply nodded, watching as his brother launched himself off our floating disk of compacted stone. Once Glaustro was gone, Graighast brought us down to the cleanest stretch of ground he could find and allowed the stone disk to melt away.

The released mana swept over the ground, sealing over cracks and strengthening spots weakened by the explosion. It was impressive, but I wasn’t sure how much I trusted a quick-fix job to support a large group of mortals and four demons. Then again, if the city was going to collapse into a sinkhole, it probably would have done so already.

"Stay here," Graighast ordered. "Do not wander. I do not have time to go around saving mortals who somehow manage to get themselves stuck under shifting rubble. You will be perfectly safe here while the anchoring ritual does its job."

Even with my bloodthirsty rage, I wasn’t about to disobey orders given to preserve my well-being. I contented myself with watching as Graighast prepared to cast another ritual.

This time, he focused all his attention on the ground, carving symbols directly into it and feeding mana into them as he went. This explained his need for an open, stable area. By the time he was done, a large, two-yard circle was completely covered in demonic arcane symbols, and every last one shone with an angry red light.

Graighast adjusted a few things here and there before nodding in satisfaction. I expected him to perform some grand gesture to trigger the spell he had spent so much effort preparing, but instead, he simply raised his foot and brought it down on the arcane matrix with one furious stomp.

His spell erupted over the city in an angry tide. It washed over all legion troops harmlessly, but not without effect. Small red bubbles appeared over each of us, causing a brief bout of confusion when some of those bubbles repelled each other and scattered the mortals who stood too close together. As the spell rolled out, more red bubbles popped into existence around the injured demons on the ground, encasing each survivor in a protective layer. I even saw a few piles of rubble bulge upwards as demons buried underneath were caught up in the red wave.

Like it was waiting for this signal, another wave of magic began to pick up. I couldn’t figure out the point of origin, but it sent the city’s remains wavering in and out of focus as space erupted into a fit.

The anchoring ritual wasn’t as smooth as usual. The magic almost looked sluggish to me. And when it washed over the houses and the ground, it revealed fading kaleidoscopic scars, jagged gashes in the fabric of reality. I saw the five demons with us visibly recoil.

Really, how could anyone believe these were normal? I wondered bitterly, shooting my fellow recruits a nasty look. I conveniently ignored that I probably would have thought the same, if it weren’t for the horrible reaction of my half-ascended mana. Still, I liked to think I’d at least feel suspicious.

The stalemate between the ritual and the scars didn’t last long. I felt a wave of anger that wasn’t mine pulse through the air, and then the ritual’s magic surged over the spatial scarring, rapidly washing it away. The ruined city wavered one last time before it was shunted away from its original plane, replaced by the familiar outlines of orderly demonic establishments.

In the same moment, bubble-wrapped demons were dislodged from their rubble prisons. The bubbles popped, unceremoniously dropping the survivors onto the swiftly forming cobblestones of a demon-owned street. Most of them were in an atrocious state, and their fellows quickly came to the rescue, dragging them back to where Graighast was now waiting patiently for the whole process to be over.

Finally, finally, everything stabilized. Doors swung open around us, and demons surged out of the shops and restaurants, ready to welcome the legion and kick off their temporary new lives. Of course, this gave them a perfect view of the savaged troops as we lingered in the middle of the street.

Noticing the looks we were receiving, Graighast quickly stepped forward to draw everyone’s attention.

"You are dismissed, for now. Go rest, heal, and celebrate. Yes, I do mean celebrate. We survived a challenge that our enemies should not have been capable of presenting. I… am not sure how long we will tarry here. It might be as long as a week, or as short as a day. It all depends on the other fronts, and how quickly and viciously command wants us to respond. Be ready to answer when you are called."

With those cheery parting words, Graighast stalked away from us, leaving a bunch of genuinely hurt demons and confused mortals behind.

The second I was dismissed, I was moving. Ungrateful brat that I am, I didn’t even think to check on Mia. No, I just stalked the streets, finally giving my anger free rein, letting it consume me one thought at a time.

I honestly don’t know if it was providence or chance or some cosmic joke, but when I eventually lifted my eyes, they landed on the familiar façade of the Apple Infernal inn.

I entered without hesitation.

The crimson-suited demoness who had delivered the inn’s warning might have been lying. Maybe I actually would be under watch. But then, so what? What was the worst they could do to me? Were they going to blow me up the second I set foot inside my room?

They weren’t the ones who killed the one demon who genuinely gave a shit about me and was willing to help.

I marched up to the counter, my nails digging furrows into my skin. I was one hundred percent sure the receptionists were being slammed by my emotions, but they showed no outward sign of it.

"We are extremely happy to see you, dear customer," the receptionist chirped before I could say anything. "Our system detected that a number of our regulars have suddenly dropped out of the invasion, and we were worried about our valuable clients! We still don’t know what happened, but rest assured. Apple Infernal is here to support you through anything."

I stared blankly at the smiling demoness. She looked so genuine while she ’reassured’ me that I had no idea what to do. Rage was clearly not the answer here, not that I could have wielded it against her anyway.

There was a magnetic quality to her eyes that drew me in and grounded me. It wasn’t enough to erase all the anguish wreaking havoc on my thoughts and emotions, but it was enough to slow the tide. While I kept looking into her eyes, I knew peace. I knew everything would be all right.

"I don’t know how long I can stay. The sergeant didn’t give us a timeline. Everything is a mess." I reached for my soul purse, trying to determine an appropriate number of souls for ’I might be staying a week or a day.’

To my surprise, she stopped me. "Oh, none of that now, dear customer. You have been loyally staying with us since the start of this invasion! In light of all the recent events, your stay with us this time is free." She leaned over the counter to hand me a room key. Then, giving me a wink, she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Please, do avail yourself of all our services. You’ll find our lovely inn offers much more than a warm bed and food!"

I nodded numbly, then staggered over to the stairs leading out of the lobby. A brief glance at my room key revealed I was on the first floor this time, probably because I was one of the first legion troops to arrive at the Apple.

And because the legion’s numbers were now severely reduced…

My slightly improved mood instantly took a nosedive again.

By the time I found my newly assigned room, I was a mess. I barely found enough strength to stumble onto the bed and curl up into a ball.

I almost died today. I almost died, and there was nothing I could do about it. This wasn’t a fight. I can’t just get better at the sword or grow my mana to combat this. Demons died. Bronwynn died.

I started to shudder as my anger, my grief, and my fear tore me apart.