Chapter 744 – Exterminator Of Monsters
From a grand scheme of things, we can consider that Ardan Divinity does have equivalents both in Paraideisian Archangels and the Demonic Royalty of Tartarus. The angels are stronger than the demons, the latter are more numerous, and both have as much variety between them as general Ardan belief-constructs. There is plenty of debate on this and I have nothing to add which has not been said before, but everyone understands that something like a fortress spirit, although operating from the exact same baseline and being made of the exact same biology, is nothing like a proper Divine. And even within proper Divinity, we get a huge range.
No one will deny my Divinity of Love either, although power-wise, then there is no point comparing myself to Fortia, much less to Elassa or Allasaria. They exist in different leagues above me. Nevertheless, Ardan Divinity is also unique for what it is. Demonic Royalty is merely extremely powerful and talented demons that are directly descended from their royal line. It can be assumed that there exists a single progenitor of this line, and the entire race gets weaker as the blood gets diluted. Archangels, biologically, possess more wings than the majority of their kind. Yet from what can be discerned, the racial differences on Paraideisius are not set in stone. Supposedly, one angel can change into another depending on their power, although they guard their secrets too closely for me to discover the exact mechanism of these transformations.
Yet on both worlds, these elites are the elites of their race. That is the difference between them and Arda. On this planet, we have created Divinity. Whereas it has never been confirmed explicitly, we can guess that neither Paraideisius nor Tartarus pray to their own Gods. And yet we know that whilst they have never confirmed praying, neither of them are atheists. Both of the worlds are highly spiritual. They simply lack Gods.
Ultimately, I have no way to answer this dilemma, nor even get close to answering it. It does make me wonder on how they see us though. Do they hate us for us? Do they see us as children maybe? There is a part of me that hopes so.
Let them be jealous.
The Ardan souls possess enough majesty to wrench Gods and Goddesses into existence.
What do they have?
- Excerpt from “Unrequited Existence”, written by Goddess Helenna, of Love.
Larinette calmed her breath as she raced downstairs, other succubi following behind her as the infiltrators of the Empire secured the ground floor. Princess Belili should not go to the basement, that would be a dead end, a death trap. A last ditch attempt at escape through flight was a better solution than hiding. But that was not for Larinette to think about that.
The white-haired Ardan monster had poured out a bottle already for them. Larinette didn’t know whether she should brew in anger at that or be terrified. It was a mixture of both. In one of the rooms, another demoness knocked over a table and took up firing position behind it. The woman’s tail whisked from side to side, a flame appearing upon it and trailing in the air even though she held a rifle.
Larinette followed the tactics though as she took up position in the doorway to the main room. Flames burst into existence, her black hair turned orange as her dark horns became fountains of fire which flowed down her body. The main room of the farmhouse was empty entirely, a fireplace stood connected to a chimney, although the logs had long since been used up here for communication back with flameseerers back home. The couch had long since been prepared for this moment. A thick piece of steel plate was affixed to the back and the furniture was set up as to act like cover.
One of the succubi that had come down with Larinette took up firing position behind that couch. Her rifle was aimed at the wooden door. Another hid behind one of the cupboards. Those weren’t armoured but it would be a surprise attack. And Larinette herself remained half hidden behind the doorframe as her eyes bounced from window to window to window just like the flames which began to spark from the candles and sliver down the floor. Those were from magicians deeper in the house, maybe from Princess Belili herself.
Through those windows was a fog of smoke. The Imperials with their canisters had forced down a cloud onto this region. Larinette had to force her trembling finger from squeezing the trigger as she listened to the thumping sound of her own heartbeat. That was easier to concentrate on than the ragged breath which made her think she was about to launch into a panic attack at any moment now.
The succubi behind the couch shifted, she threw off her jacket. Her tail drew a circle of fire in the air, her rifle trembled as she shifted it from different positions. Larinette forced her ears to concentrate on that woman’s crinkling flames, then on the outside. And they found nothing. Silence. The SIS was not moving in, it didn’t matter how well they were trained. That amount of people could not move across frozen grass without breaking it. And their vehicles were definitely not coming close, the hum of the engines was still low and distance.
Malam thought she could defeat them all by herself. That was the worst part. The confidence was intoxicating in its terror.
Something moved outside. Something had to have suddenly moved. Larinette saw a shape move. A tall figure, far too tall to be a human, yet so fast that it could have been a mirage. The succubi by the door would have shot had she not been focused on conjuring a cloak of fire behind her. The succubi behind the hidden shelves did pull the trigger though.
A single gunshot rang out and echoed through the room. It put a shattering hole through the glass window and silence descended back down over the building. Larinette blinked, holding her breath. The succubus who had fired held her gun still, finger on the trigger and ready to fire another shot. The one by the couch stared through the window searching for a corpse.
What if they had hit her though? Would the SIS retreat? Well, it would certainly be good for morale-
Boom!
The wall gave way when Malam’s cannon of a shotgun blasted through stone and steel and wood and shattered every window in the vicinity into a faint mist. The succubus that had given out her shot no longer stood, the bookshelf before her had exploded. And the demoness was no longer a recognisable flesh but a general mess of flesh. Larinette’s eyes went wide. Her fires burst forwards from her hair and scoured the fog in a great wave for all of a moment. Then her own terror pushed her back into hiding.
Whether instinct, luck or cowardice, the succubus stopped firing and turned back around so that her back was to the wall and she faced the corridor. A moment later, a dagger stabbed into the wall, if she had still been in that firing position, it would have gone into her head. Considering how deep it drove into the stone, it probably would have split it.
There was another gunshot. Another cannon blast. And for all of a moment, all hell broke loose. The building began to shake and shift as if it had come under fire. The chaos lasted for all of a moment, silence returned as quickly as it had disappeared the first time. Another demoness appeared at the end of the corridor, she held her rifle to fire, aimed at Larinette for a moment, then held it down.
Larinette moved her hand, fire silently twisted from her burning black hair and pointed towards the door. She outranked that woman here. The other succubus nodded, held her rifle back up, fires burst out around her, small birds and knives that were tiny blazing infernos.
She took a step forward. Then another. A third. She stopped at the doorway. A small trail of dust was coming was coming from there now. A deep breath was taken. And then succubi stepped into the doorway, gun raised and ready to fire.
BOOM!
Her finger did not even get a chance to begin closing and her flames burned themselves out of existence. The massive gunshot split her limbs from her torso, carving a hole large enough to fit a head through right where the woman’s heart was. Larinette’s eyes went wide, her breath held, she pressed herself up to the wall. Her flames died down in her sheer terror and concentration on what was coming through that doorway.
Malam was inside the house. She had to be. Larinette forced her eyes away from the woman on the ground and straight ahead. She took a step forward, her fingers went to pull back the bolt.
And she stopped when she heard the hound of it clicking and pushing a bullet in. Maybe there were times when it was silent, right now, it felt like she had just set off fireworks by herself.
Her body tightened.
She cursed herself for making such a mistake.
The wall to her right buckled and broke. Her finger did manage to pull the trigger, although the bullet shot harmlessly into a corridor populated only by a corpse. Larinette only caught a glint of white hair when she felt something cold enter her chest. Her back slammed into the wall, she slid up it, lifted off the ground and came face to face with a pair of eyes as that were black voids of pitch.
The knife drove deeper between her ribs.
Knife and all, Malam dropped the succubus in the corridor, turned, extended and arm and pulled the trigger on the black-horned demoness who was raising a gun at her through the doorway.
Azaela made a series of hand motions as she turned and ran from the stairs towards one of the rooms with another demoness by her side. “She’s here.” They could track the monster sweeping the ground floor through the crashing of walls and the blasting of that massive gun. Four succubi were on the stairs, guns pointed and at the ready. Princess Belili herself and gone to the master bedroom, complete with an elite guard.
Azaela, as nervous as she was, was not going to wait for Malam to come to them. Twice, they had caught up to the Goddess of Hatred, and twice they had heard a crash through a wall or fight in a place they couldn’t reach without circling back through the corridor. Everyone down at the bottom had to be dead by now. Even if the foggy smoke drifted and curled into the house through open windows, Azaela was glad it was there at least. She didn’t want to be reminded that the SIS had brought an army and sent in only one Goddess.
Eventually, Azaela returned back to the corridor with her assistant. They were a whole turn away from the team at the stairs, but Azaela was sure that the Goddess of Hatred was right below them. The sounds had stopped here, unless she could move silently, then she couldn’t have ran away.
Azaela locked eyes with the other succubus. The pair of dark-horned demonesses exchanged silent nods. Flames appeared into the air around them. They flew close to the floor. Azaela put her finger over the trigger as she aimed straight down… One final moment of doubt entered her mind. Although if they did nothing here, then they were simply asking to be picked at Malam’s pace. If she was going to win and kill them all, it was better to go down fighting quickly at least.
The pair of succubi opened fire into and through the floor below. The wood planks of the farmhouse had been thicker than expected. It was only on the third shot that Azaela saw her opening. Still holding the trigger and firing, she forced one of her magical flames into that opening. And once it was down, she poured all her magical energy into that fire.
Malam would be flushed out or incinerated into flame. Or she would-
BOOM!
The floor ruptured and exploded next to Azaela, her friend flew backwards, her body torn apart by the shrapnel made by that massive cannon. A person shouldn’t be able to use a gun like that. It should just tear arms right off. It… Azaela made the mistake of looking through the hole. Through the planks and the plumbing which had been torn open, a terrified crimson gaze met the eyes of this world’s monster.
For a single moment, she saw Malam drop watch her. The woman was the complete opposite of succubus, where they were dark-haired and colourful-eyed and all manners of tanned, Malam was a tapestry of monochrome. Her hair was a freezing tundra, utterly without any embellishment within it. Her face was pale enough to be marble. And her eyes were pitch black in their entirety.
And then, Malam was gone, she disappeared out of view, walking towards Azaela’s position.
Azaela took a step back, her breathing fast and ragged. She pulled her trigger. The gun clicked to warn of its hunger. The succubus, arms shaking, managed to force the magazine out. Her breathing was ragged, her heart beat so strongly that it felt as if it was going to jump out of her mouth at any moment now. Her legs felt weak, the entirely world felt queasy. Azaela wanted to kneel down and throw up.
The floor shifted, not from an explosion this time but it may as well have been. Frankly, Azaela would have preferred the finger of that cannon executing her than the feeling of fingers as strong as steel wrapping around her calf.
The demoness got pulled down through the floor.
Malam kicked the body away as stood in silence. At this distance, even a human would be able to listen to that terrified breathing and shivering.
Princess Belili stood, the stolen Imperial rifle in her hands. A team of six succubi around and in front of her, as every gun pointed to the other wall. At this point, they had heard the carnage. The constant thumping of that massive gun were almost comforting, those at least could be reasoned with: Malam was one of those huge Ardan monsters they called a Goddess, and so she could wield a huge gun.
It was all the other sounds that made Belili’s spine feel as if it was freezing. The crashing through the walls followed by silence. The explosions followed by silence. The thumps of a body against a wall followed by silence. It was the silence that was the worst part. Silence like that meant that everyone was dying on the spot. Malam wasn’t even leaving them to suffer, she was simply killing and moving on. Belili shifted and knelt down next to the large bed. In front of her was the endtable, the inside of that had been replaced with a steel block.
And suddenly, Belili wished the silence returned. “Oh princess!” Malam cooed from the other side of the wall everyone was facing. One of the succubi, pushed to the edge of the nerves, fired at the door. The bullet went through the wood and impacted into stone. “Oh princess! Malam called out again. “I know where you are!” It was the sing-song tone of it, the utter lack of serious and concentration that was the worst part.
Belili said nothing because she could say nothing. Her throat had tightened to a vice, it was difficult enough to make sure she kept a steady face in front of her soldiers. She had to consciously keep on breathing through her nose so that she would not suddenly start panting. “Princess! Are you not going to answer?” For a moment, Belili expected Malam to laugh. That would have fit right in.
But there was no laughter.
Boom! That massive cannon of a shotgun ripped a whole through the door, it blew it off its hinges. Belili quickly looked around, no one got hurt. So Malam was just making an opening for herself then. Fires materialized around Belili, a snake that twirled around her arm. A small container bounced off the wall and rolled into master bedroom.
All the succubi looked at the small object. Belili realised it first “GRENA-“ A blinding flash followed by a ringing in her ears destroyed her fires. Belili closed her eyes and covered her ears to try and recover from the blast. Someone dropped their gun. Someone fell over. Someone entered the room.
Belili forced her eyes open to see Malm within their ranks. The Ardan incarnation of Hatred slithered with a knife in one hand from succubus to succubus. She did not slash or stab, she just made one long continuous cut which wove from demoness to demoness like a string that was going to tie them together.
Belili didn’t know what got into her. Whether it was the panic of her flames going out, the fact she had dropped her gun or the sheer terror from being so close to a monster that was taller and faster than her, she ran.
She ran all of three steps, a knife suddenly impaled the back of her calf and the Tatarian royal dropped to the ground with a scream. She did not stop through, she scrawled through the door, ripped the knife out of her leg and put as much distance as she could between herself and the bedroom. There were more bodies in the corridor. Belili had to crawl over one that had her arm broken. “Princess!” Malam cooed again.
Belili turned around to see how Malam had to almost crouch to get through the doorway. Belili had always thought she herself was tall, but the Ardan Goddess was something else. And the way that creature moved was downright unnatural, the dexterity on display was reserved for the likes of snakes and squirrels, not semi-giants. The demon princess pushed herself along the floor backwards until her back hit the wall. “Please! Malam! No!”
Malam’s approach was unnatural. She was obviously too tall to be inside this building, she had to crane her neck forwards and bend at her waist to fit in the corridor and even then, somehow, she still manage to move so smoothly she could as well have been gliding. “No what?” Malam said. “No what exactly? No to capturing you? No to killing you? Hmm? Which one?”
“Don’t…” Belili tried to think of an answer that wasn’t something Malam said. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Ohohoho!” Malam cooed. “Princess!? Don’t hurt you?” She chuckled again, finally getting so close she was practically on top of Belili. “And when you hurt Arda, did you stop? When the Eparika was turned black? When the people in this home went missing?” Belili felt a tear go down her cheek. And Malam must have noticed it too. “Are you going to cry now?” She chuckled. “Please do, knock yourself out.”
“Malam.”
“Your mistake was thinking you could outdo me and Helenna. Outdoing one of us is hard enough. Both of us?” Malam chuckled as Belili thought of another way to bargain for her own life.
“I’m a princess. I’m royalty.” If only she did not have to reveal her ace so quickly.
“That is why you lost.” Malam said almost immediately. Belili didn’t understand what Malam was saying, because she could ask for clarification, Malam did it herself. “Because you are royalty and I am a Goddess.” Malam said proudly. “And what is royalty before a God?” Belili knew the answer, and could not say it.
“I know things back home.”
Malam chuckled. “No Princess, you are on Arda so you will operate on Ardan logic. If you kept me alive on your world, I would immediately get to work on destroying it. Through a word here, a wink there, a secret here, I don’t care or know how, but you would have civil war on your hands.” Malam made that terrible chuckle again. “And if that is what I would do, why should I treat you any different?”
A monster. There was no other way about it. Malam was a monster. All the Ardans were monsters. This was a cursed world. They never should have returned. They never should have come here to help them in their first war in the first place. At the very least, Belili tried to save some pride for herself. “Not the face.”
Malam chuckled as she lowered the gun, a knife slid out of her sleeve and into her free palm. “Of course not.” The Ardan Goddess sounded as if she was in bliss. “I’m not going to ruin a trophy, am I?”