Inside a dark rectangular room filled with dark power and ancient magic, towering stone walls with macabre artwork of torture and vanity spread along them.
A ceiling which seed to stretch towards the sky, with intricate carvings and tapestries along the pillars and ceiling, depicting scenes of dark battles against the divines and the successful demonic conquests.
The air was thick with a slight fog and scent of burning incense, only a dim light flickering along the castle walls with dark green torches creating deep shadows across the room.
At the far end of the room was a massive throne carved from the sa black stone as the walls.
It was a work of art created with large black stones similar to the ones used for the ceiling and pillars supporting it.
A male was seated on the throne, two black horns jutting from the sides of his head and two thick arms resting upon the black armrest covered in the skulls of various creatures and races.
His dark red eyes watched the cowering demons in the room, a cruel sneer upon his lips.
"Tell , Balzeth, why did those two brothers fail?" A slightly charming and deep voice sounded from the massive demon's lips.
Belzeth, a demon standing beside the demon on the throne, was a butler dressed in a black suit and a crisp white shirt.
The butler was a smaller demon with slicked-back hair and a deferential expression, always at the ready, attending to the needs of his master with silent efficiency.
"M-my prince, there is not enough information. However, it was said to be the work of a single male who appeared to be a demon and two won..."
Bang! The throne trembled with a thick explosion, countless skulls shattering into dust and debris flying across the throne room.
"Oh? A demon!" His voice seed calm, but the bulging black veins and anger in his face caused a terrible aura to weigh down on all the demons in the room, almost crushing their bodies.
Around the room were several smaller demons, so with serving attire and others as re attendants or guards.
"..."
So of them were now almost kneeling on the ground, their faces filled with sweat as the sheer force of their master's power caused their bodies to crumble.
They wore long black robes, with a large hood covering their faces, keeping the disgusting features hidden as many tried to silently perform their duties, offering a sense of silent reverence to the man on the throne.
"Yes, my lord, it was said that he was a forr "human" the race we are exterminating this ti, although it seems now that the disgusting winged rats have abandoned him." The butler's old voice was slow, slightly drawn out, but pleasant to hear as the male on the throne nodded.
"Ah, I see... I see...!"
Boom! The male lifted his arm, clenching his fist.
A flash of black light exploded from his hand, a form of lightning magic as the arc of thunder chained between several of the lesser demons and the two that failed to slaughter the champions of the divine.
'These useless pieces of garbage, not only did Zenovia announce war against my master, I lost the favour of the pri prince because they failed!'
The demon on the throne was livid, watching the debris of the destroyed demons; he snapped her red eyes towards the butler.
"I want the human world to burn, break all rules you can if their world is too much. Let's kill them in that stupid hidden world!"
"My lord, you an that so-called "ga", right? Your will shall be done! This Belzeth will see your will completed!"
Belzeth's visage faded like a shadow as the room inside the throne beca filled with dread and terror, the ruler of this room sitting on the throne now with a pensive face.
Those that survived the fading pressure quickly began to perform their duties, trying to remain silent as the faint whispers of the butler vanished; these re servants were not permitted to make noise or speak in the presence of their prince.
A thick magical scent filled the air as the walls almost pulsated with dark energy.
The Demon Prince was a towering figure, his muscular fra radiating power and confidence; grasping the arms of the black throne, he stood with fluid grace.
His black horns scraped against the stone pillars as he rose to his full height, wearing a regal attire which was imposing, a blend of dark leather and heavy tal.
He wore a long, black coat adorned with silver filigree and black boots, reaching up to his knees. A belt made of silver chain hung from his waist, and on his chest was a dallion bearing the symbol of his power.
The mont he stepped forward, all breathing stopped inside the room, worried they might be vaporised on the spot should they even breathe, his face masked with solemnity.
Piercing eyes fixed forward, ignoring all of the servants and other demons with an unreadable expression, each movent with a sense of purpose as he walked forward, footsteps echoing through the Gothic Throne Room as he made his way to his private chambers.
This man's na was Amon, the demon prince of War and Slaughter. His patron goddess Alia now loses favour towards him because of the failure of his subordinates.
Thus, his title as a demon prince was unstable and caused him to need results fast.
'Damn human, why did you have to be my enemy? We could have enjoyed much fun together, crushing others and engaging in slaughter!'
Amon thought to himself in a mont of clarity.
His deanour was one of calm authority, yet he could beco a crazed berserker at any mont; slowly, he moved with deliberate movents.
The embodint of power, causing all who saw him to feel a sense of awe and terror from his presence, a prince of demons, was only a few steps away from becoming a god; his rule was supposed to be absolute.
'That bitch! What does Alia an? Wanting to see if he can take my place!' Amon felt anger as he tried to hold it within himself.
After several steps forward, he finally reached a huge red door, with a stone sculpture of himself, with ruby-like gem for eyes; they glowed brightly the mont he approached before the stone door opened slowly, allowing him to enter.
The doors closed behind him with a soft sigh.
His room was silent, and the only sound was the rustle of his coat as he moved across the room. He was a solitary figure with imnse power and dark magic.
And at that mont, he was at peace, surrounded by the trappings of his power and the entire room filled with his power started to refine his body, constantly eating away at his naked flesh to improve his physical prowess.
"That little fake demon wants to walk around proud on that shitty little planet? Fine!"
Amon looked into the tall mirror, his shining red eyes narrowed with a fierce face.
'Let's see how he survives the constant assault of my demon army. Does he think those restrictions will weaken my demons forever? How about if I bombard them endlessly with new demons? Those Divines don't care about the humans or this world.'
"re insects, they will die in droves..."
He grasped a small orb which began to show the images before the defeat of his subordinates; Amon discovered sothing very helpful.
"Oh my, how interesting. Are you an incubus? Is that why!? Zenovia was so crazy about you... So finally, after over 5,000 years, a male of the Zelgan bloodline appeared again. No wonder you have so many won around you... Good, a weakness! Hahahaha! Let's have the imps violate them endlessly before I kill you!"
He looked towards a smashed statute; forrly, it must have been a very beautiful female, her body filled with wounds and scars as she carried several weapons on her back and in her arms.
This woman with long flowing hair was Alia, the goddess Amon believed to have abandoned him, choosing this new male. "Zell" to replace him.
In the dark depths of a distant planet, countless years travelling distance from Astera, the demon prince of war and slaughter closed his eyes, now only thinking about how to kill Zell and make him suffer.
Across from him, outside, the tall black window showed the scenery from his castle.
The scenery was a bleak and desolate wasteland, with a sickly shade of the green sky, as constant rain of ash fell from the clouds.
Its land was barren, with jagged rocks and scorched earth stretching as far as the eye could see. In the distance, there were mountains of black stone, their peaks lost in the clouds.
Amidst the wasteland, there were pockets of flickering fire, casting a warm glow over the desolate landscape.
These were the demons' forges, where they crafted the weapons and tools of their dark trade.
The hamring sound echoed through the wasteland, a constant reminder of the demons' mastery over tal and fire.
In the distance, a massive gate made of black iron was adorned with the symbol of the demon realm.
It was the entrance to the Underworld, the realm of the lesser and more crazed demons, and the gateway between their world and the world of the mortals, however right now, it was covered by giant golden locks and chains, with only small cracks at the bottom, only re imps and whelps could squeeze through the gaps.
Massive demons guarded the gate, their weapons ready and their eyes fixed upon the bleak landscape.
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