Wasn’t This a Night Game

Legiones Ketratu

After Mammon was banished from the mental realm, Asmodeus hastened to the collapsed Amael’s soul.

[Hm.]

Perhaps it was because it was a fragile human soul, despite being under his protection.

Its state was rather unstable.

[It’ll take a little time to stabilize it.]

But it was no problem.

He had just absorbed a multitude of powerful divine entities, more than enough to heal Amael’s soul.

He slowly reached out a hand, picked up Amael, and began the healing.

Amael, somewhere between wakefulness and slumber, opened his eyes and looked at Asmodeus.

[Don’t open them. Rest.]

Asmodeus smiled gently as he spoke those words, but Amael didn’t close his eyes.

He forced them open, gazing up at the King of Lust.

“Lilia… Goddess?”

Asmodeus, hearing those words, realized he no longer wore the guise of the muscular man he so often favored. He was in his true form.

For reasons unknown, Amael seemed to draw courage from the image of that muscle-bound man. Amael grabbed hard at the edge of Asmodeus’s robe, as he tentatively began to shift his form.

His voice faint, as if about to break, he whimpered, practically screaming the question.

“Don’t send me to Hell.”

Asmodeus chuckled at that.

[Is that your wish?]

“People were… they were hurting so much. A whole family almost killed themselves because of me. Good people, who did nothing wrong, who even offered me black bread, were trying to die because they couldn’t cope with reality. I had to use my powers to save them.”

[I know. I saw it all.]

“I’ll take responsibility and martyr myself… I’ll be sure to martyr myself before my powers go wild… Just, please, don’t send me to Hell.”

Asmodeus burst out laughing at the sight of Amael sobbing like a child.

What a foolish creature he was.

To fear Hell so much, when he didn’t even truly understand what dwelled within him.

[Don’t worry. I’m here with you, Amael. For now, set your mind at ease. Rest.]

Asmodeus stroked Amael’s hair.

Amael’s grip on his robe loosened slightly.

But he still struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting against unconsciousness.

“This city… Mammon is here. Mammon is at the scrap yard.”

[Yes. I know.]

“Save this city. Peter and Anna. Jim and Amy are still in this city. And so many other poor, suffering people are in this city.”

At those words, Asmodeus softly caressed Amael’s cheek.

[Is that your wish?]

“Yes. Lady Lilith is a god of the pantheon, right? Please… protect them. I don’t want to see the people of this city suffer.”

[It shall be as you wish.]

Amael, hearing Asmodeus’s words, finally let go of the robe.

[Sleep now, Amael. When you wake, everything will be better.]

“Why must I… suffer like this? If only I could just be happy…”

Amael mumbled, weeping, before falling asleep.

“Why is Asmodeus in my body… I never asked for any of this…”

Amael was completely asleep.

Asmodeus embraces Amael tightly, rising from her seat.

Her gaze lifts to the heavens.

She feels the gods of the celestial pantheon gazing down upon her from above.

The passage between the celestial and human realms, severely damaged by Lucifer, had rendered the gods’ divine presence faint upon the earth.

Asmodeus slowly summoned her own divinity and authority.

[I shall be occupied with healing Amael, you see. I suppose the task of dealing with the remaining remnants of Mammon must fall to you.]

Slowly.

An intense divine power, as if invoked for the first time in ages, emanates from her form.

The potent authority born of consuming Mammon’s divine essence slowly begins to surge beyond Amael’s body in the form of a pillar of light, reaching out into the human realm.

[Anathema!! Anathema!!]

[The sun!! Flames!! aaagh!!]

The screams of countless demonic followers and hellish minions within the scrap yard erupt from all directions in unison.

[The passage is opened.]

Asmodeus announces.

[I entrust the cleanup to you.]

She embraces Amael’s body tightly, commencing the healing of Amael’s soul with her own power.

[Awaken.]

At the sound of a majestic voice, unfamiliar yet resonant, Iomene’s eyes snap open.

She lifts her gaze to find a towering figure, its face shrouded in light, looking down upon her.

Though she could not discern its features, Iomene recognized the being before her.

“Dulanir-nim?”

Dulanir silently gestures to one side.

There, Iomene sees a familiar city.

A city of steel and steam, formed of colossal factories.

The Scrap Yard.

And within that Scrap Yard, the rampaging minions and followers of Mammon are visible.

[Flee!!]

[To the mines where the light cannot reach! Descend underground!! aaagh!!!]

Unable to further disguise themselves because of the massive pillar of light enveloping the entire city, they scream and scramble in a frantic escape, their forms eliciting a visceral sense of revulsion within Iomene.

“Fiends of Hell!!…….”

But the fury that exploded from her lips died a swift death as a pallor stole across her face, and she leapt from her seat.

“Ah, Amael!!”

The sight of the Saint Amael collapsed upon the floor assaulted her eyes.

A gaping hole marred his chest near his heart, and the blood pooling around him made her heart feel as if it had plummeted into an abyss.

“No… No!! Amael!!”

Even as her cry tore through the air.

Dulanear withdrew the illusion, looking down upon her with unwavering gaze.

[Go forth and protect. Protect the humans of the city, and safeguard the one you love. This is the command I bestow upon you, do not refuse.]

“I will!! I have trained for this moment these past months! Use me!!”

Dulanear seized Iomene at those words, lifting her.

[Show the vile powers of Hell my wrath. Chosen One.]

A glorious light engulfed Iomene. And in the next instant.

Iomene realized she no longer rested within the Imperial Palace where she had been relaxing, but in a place entirely alien.

The stench of iron.

The reek of oil.

And the humid breath of steam.

And within that olfactory assault, she saw the man she loved lying limply on the ground, a hole torn through his heart.

“Amael!!”

She rushed mindlessly forward, attempting to embrace Amael, but a pillar of light encircling him repelled her with brutal force.

Staggering back, she was swiftly pulled away by Kal Renaro who had been watching.

“Do not approach the pillar of light so carelessly! Forcing your way in could severely injure you!”

Iomene, at those words, finally regained her senses.

She tore her gaze from Amael and surveyed her surroundings.

A few Labor Unionists, clad in grimy clothes and armed with light machine guns, pistols, and explosives, stared back at her with vacant expressions.

Kal Renaro, having released her arm, bowed his head cautiously.

“We greet the Imperial Princess.”

“Explain. Now. In detail, what has transpired.”

Kal Renaro at those words distilled what he had witnessed into its most essential components, and swiftly explained.

“We were conversing with the Saint when a dissolving mass of flesh suddenly appeared before us, screamed, and vanished. The Saint then collapsed. And roughly five minutes later, Your Highness abruptly manifested here.”

Even as he explained it, a confused expression clouded his face, but Iomene was hardly surprised.

She watched the pulpy remains of Mammon melt into the floor, then walked out into the open.

For over sixteen long years, her soul had suffered because of the shard of an evil god. More than anyone, she could keenly sense the power of the Abyss and the authority of Hell.

Besides, now, because of the pillar of light, the infernal legions couldn’t even bother with disguises, could they?

Following the instinctively palpable stench of Hell, it wasn’t difficult for Iomene to witness a scene of monsters screaming.

[The mine! We must descend into the depths!! Down below!!]

[Anathema!! Fire!! Sunlight!!]

[It burns!! Pain!! So much pain!!]

Massive, twisted things, their bodies studded with dozens of blinking eyes, charged forward, smashing everything in sight.

Behind them, humans fled, screaming.

Seeing Kal Renaroe emerging after the Princess, several of the fleeing humans rushed to him to report.

“Comrade Renaroe!! Demon worshippers and dark sorcerers were hidden among our comrades!!”

“They suddenly mutated into monsters, and are rampaging, destroying everything around them!!”

“Bullets have no effect!! We can’t handle them with pistols and light machine guns! Comrade!!”

At those words, Iomene smiled and nodded.

“Ordinary weapons cannot kill these abominations.”

She pushed through the crowd and slowly started walking towards the monsters who rampaged forward.

“Princess!! It’s dangerous!……..”

The laborers tried to stop her, but the divine power that emanated from her body in that instant made them flinch back.

The mark of Dullanear on the back of her hand began to glow.

And the approaching monsters seemed to have noticed her presence.

[Dullanear!!]

[Mad god!!]

[How are the hounds of the Pantheon here already!!]

[Only one!]

[This is the fastest way to get to the underground mine!]

[No time to detour!]

[Break through! Bite and kill!!]

[For Mammon!!]

The demon worshippers spoke in unison, then charged at Iomene.

She carried no weapon,

nor assumed any defensive stance.

Instead, she slowly raised a hand etched with her stigmata toward the heavens.

And she opened her mouth.

“Legiones Ketratus.”

From the sky, dozens of beams of light descended upon the earth.

“Assemble.”

The moment Iomene clenched her fist, the light dissipated, replaced by beings unseen before by the scrap yard’s denizens.

Giants, towering over two meters.

In one hand, weapons closer in size to heavy machine guns than pistols.

And in the other, colossal swords and hammers that seemed impossible for a human to wield.

Shoulder plates of transcendent size.

Breastplates forged of adamantium and mithril.

Helmets painted a cold, stark white.

And inscribed upon the armor, the phrases of the Codex Proliliium.

The White Order’s most formidable paladins.

And, simultaneously, their most seasoned battle-priests, slowly turned to face Iomene, their summoner.

“First Company answers your call, Holy One. Command us.”

Iomene pointed towards the encroaching throng of Mammon’s followers.

“Kill them.”

A simple, potent command.

And the answer to that command did not return in words.

The First Company raised the handguns they carried.

“Cover your ears.”

After uttering the warning, the massive handguns, each about the size of an average man’s torso, roared to life.

Cannons.

Not gunshots, but cannons erupted.

And with it.

The bodies of the demon worshippers began to simply… explode.