Devil Slave (Satan system)

As Athena approached the pool, she felt the oppressive weight of the Cerberus’s gaze, even though its eyes remained half-closed, seemingly indifferent to her presence.

The towering beast, with its three massive heads, regarded her like an ant, insignificant and hardly worth its attention. But as she drew closer, one of its enormous eyes lazily opened, a deep, hellish glow emanating from within. The Cerberus shifted slightly, its colossal form rustling as it considered the tiny figure approaching the sealed pool.

Before leaving her Hell beast baby behind, now known as A47, Athena turned to Virgil, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Is it possible to sneak through the cracks in the skeleton seal?"

Virgil shook his head, his expression grave. "No, the seal is impenetrable. The only way to free Lilith is to corrupt the Aborted Blood with the blood of the living. A single drop of your blood in that pool, and Lilith will be free."

Athena glanced at the Cerberus, its massive jaws capable of crushing her in an instant, its body a living fortress that guarded the pool with an almost casual menace. She knew the risk, but she was determined to succeed. She left her Hell beast baby behind, its mournful eyes following her as she steeled herself for what was to come.

As she moved toward the pool, the Cerberus slowly opened another eye, regarding her with mild interest. To the beast, she was a mere insect, but the fact that she was advancing toward such a forbidden place triggered its instinct to attack. Athena knew this would happen, and she prepared herself, her powers surging within her.

There was no point in holding back now. With a fierce cry, she unleashed her power, golden flames erupting from her body, forming the shape of a fiery phoenix in the air. The flames danced around her, a brilliant, blazing aura of golden light. She rushed toward the Cerberus, her resolve unwavering.

But the Cerberus, barely roused from its slumber, simply opened one of its massive mouths and let out a deafening roar. It wasn’t even a full effort, more of a yawn, but the force of the soundwave was catastrophic.

The ground trembled as the roar reverberated through the air, and Athena was blasted backward, hurtling hundreds of meters away from the pool.

When the dust settled, Virgil floated toward her, his expression a mix of concern and resignation. All that remained of Athena was a skeleton, a charred remnant of what she once was, with bits of flesh still clinging to the bones. The Cerberus’s roar had been enough to reduce her to this state.

Athena was dead.

Or so it seemed.

Suddenly, golden runes appeared on her corpse, glowing with an ethereal light. The runes spread across the skeletal remains, and then, without warning, her body burst into golden flames. The flames consumed the skeleton, burning fiercely, but instead of turning to ash, something miraculous happened. From within the inferno, Athena began to take shape again, her body reforming as the flames danced around her. She was reborn, rising from the ashes like the mythical phoenix.

Athena pushed through the remains of the ash, her body fully restored, her eyes burning with renewed determination. She stood to her feet, the golden runes still flickering across her skin, a testament to the power of the phoenix within her.

Virgil watched in awe, a mixture of surprise and admiration on his face. "It would seem like a direct approach will not work," he remarked, his tone almost chiding.

But Athena, still smiling, wiped the ash from her hands. "I’m not done," she said, her voice resolute. The fire within her had not dimmed; if anything, it burned even brighter now.

Athena stood tall, her body battered but unyielding, as she faced the Cerberus once more. The golden flames of the phoenix flickered around her, a symbol of her relentless determination. She rushed at the monstrous guardian, her heart pounding in her chest, knowing full well what awaited her. Again and again, she charged, only to be met with death in increasingly brutal and creative ways.

The Cerberus, initially indifferent, now had all three of its massive heads awake and focused on her. It had grown fascinated by her resilience, her refusal to stay dead. Each time she fell, the golden flames would consume her, and she would rise again, her body whole but her spirit ever so slightly wearier.

With each death, the Cerberus grew more inventive. It skewered her with spikes that erupted from the ground, impaled her with jagged stones, and electrocuted her with black lightning that crackled through the air like a living thing. Another time, one of its heads spat a torrent of poison that melted her flesh in an instant, leaving only her bones before the flames took hold and resurrected her once more.

The twisted smiles that spread across the beast’s three faces spoke of a sick delight. In this monotonous, hellish domain, Athena had become its source of entertainment, a plaything that refused to break. The Cerberus reveled in her torment, finding joy in her agony, as it devised new ways to end her life. The once-dreaded guardian now saw her as an indomitable toy, one that it could tear apart endlessly without consequence.

But for Athena, the cycle was taking its toll. Every time she died, it became harder to pull herself back. The flames of the phoenix were strong, but the darkness that clung to her in the moments between life and death was growing.

She could feel unseen hands reaching for her, trying to drag her into the void, to hold her back, to keep her dead. Each resurrection was a battle in itself, a struggle against forces that wanted to claim her soul for good. Yet, the flames would guide her out, pulling her back into the realm of the living, no matter how much it hurt.

And hurt it did. The pain was not just physical; it was mental, spiritual. Every time she died, she lost a part of herself. The effort of returning grew more excruciating, the flames burning brighter but also colder, as if they too were being worn down by the endless cycle of death and rebirth. Athena could feel her mind fraying at the edges, the constant torment beginning to wear her down. And yet, she refused to stop.

It was during one such relentless assault, as the Cerberus prepared to deliver yet another killing blow, that something changed. Just as the beast lunged forward, preparing to tear her apart, it froze. A rumble echoed through the chamber, a deep, ominous sound that reverberated through the very ground they stood on.

The Cerberus paused, its heads turning toward the source of the disturbance. Behind it, the bloody pool—the Sea of Aborted Living Blood—was churning violently, the surface bubbling and frothing like a cauldron on the brink of eruption. The Cerberus growled, sensing something was amiss. It turned to face the pool, its eyes narrowing as it spotted something it had not expected.

There, by the edge of the pool, stood a smaller version of Athena. This figure was not whole, however; it was deformed, twisted, as if it had been shaped from the very blood that filled the pool. Its body was a grotesque mimicry of Athena’s, with parts missing or malformed, but there was no mistaking the resemblance. This smaller Athena was a product of Athena’s cells.

It was a duplicate.

The Cerberus snarled, its attention momentarily diverted from the real Athena. This was not something it had anticipated. The pool, which had been silent for so long, was now a roiling, chaotic mass, as if responding to the presence of this twisted doppelgänger. The runes on the skeleton seal glowed more fiercely, reacting to the disturbance, and the air around the pool crackled with dark and chaos magic.