The Chronicles of Logan DeRais: The One That Bleeds

Rhühmoüs‘s lair. It was a dark, dank place, filled to the brim with fetid corpses, dead rats, and the undesirables from the many meals of the Beast. There was a stink that rose from the ground and filled the room like no other in the known universe. It was enough to make even the most invulnerable human fall unconscious. Fortunately for humans, there were not many of them in Hell. Almost all of the souls here were Damned. They had been spirits at one point, but no more. Feces and urine were everywhere. From the ceiling hung uneaten corpses, rotting for who knows how long. Their plasm and other bodily fluids slowly dripping down like the leaves of the tree of life. Body parts littered the ground. Anything found in the first circle of Hell was killed, and thrown onto the endless piles of decomposing cadavers, for Rhühmoüs to later consume. He wandered endlessly around his circle, searching for new prey that were unaware of his presence. The glutinous freak was the undisputed ruler of this part of Hell.

Two beings were running through the circle as quickly as possible. No one knew who they were or why they were risking the dangerous trek through the lair of Rhühmoüs, but that information is irrelevant. It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes anyway, when they were just two more mutilated bodies lying on the ground. Everything was silent. The two were being very careful. Unfortunately, nothing stayed silent in Its lair for very long. There were too many obstacles, too many skulls, broken bones, or smashed glass to avoid stepping on something for too long. It was inevitable. And eventually it did happen. The male’s foot came down on the body of a hulk that had been brutally ripped apart. The loud crack of its ribs being snapped in two echoed off the walls, reverberating into the ears of the Beast. It roared. The woman screamed as the fat thing was revealed. It jumped up, out of the shadows where it had been previously invisible. Without giving them a chance to react, it grabbed the both of them before they could blink, and shoved the man’s torso into its mouth. The tortured screams of the unknown traveler were heard for a second, before they disappeared. Without bothering to consume the female, it simply squeezed roughly on her. She was crushed together in a dead, bloody mess. It dropped her and lumbered off, still chewing on the man. It’s thundering steps boomed as it left, shaking the entire circle of Hell.

Now, just as the noise that the wretched travelers had created drew Rhühmoüs down upon them, so would Rhühmoüs’s careless footsteps, shaking the entire area, bring his doom about him. Something slept in Rhühmoüs’s lair, something that had been growing more and more powerful the past year. Now, amidst the gigantic beasts treading on the ground, it was awakened. From the squalid filth it rose, shrouded by non-existent shadows, invisible to everyone. It’s very aura exuded an unstoppable confidence. Calm, collected, and in control, it strode formidably in the direction that Rhühmoüs had left. As it walked, his eyes snapped open. Lightning crackled in the first circle as wings suddenly sprouted from the beings back. He was a fallen angel. His beautiful black wings flowed smoothly behind him as he walked. Every stop he took, the darkness around him was pushed back, and he left in his wake an area full of light, besides the shadows that covered him, hiding his features. His pace increased as Rhühmoüs’s roars grew quieter. Then, he jumped up into the air, and began flying faster than any mortal being could run. The darkness was vanishing even faster now, and was disappearing as far as twenty feet in front of the angel. Inevitably, Rhühmoüs came into his sights. The lumbering beast paused, sniffing the air. The angel folded his wings, and dropped to the ground. The beast turned around to face the light bringer. The blubbery monster’s entire body was exposed to the light, and it was not pretty. It’s gross, hairy stomach was enormous. It was almost thirty feet tall, with fat arms and legs sticking out of its endless folds of flab. It was a sight that would send any normal person running and screaming in disgust, if not terror. It’s eyes widened when it saw the angel. It’s fat lips parted, emitting the word, “ANGEL!” as it started to lumber forward. Lightning cracked again as the beast ran towards the angel. He sidestepped it smoothly, then came whirling back to face the monster’s flank. The freak grunted stupidly, then turned around, its eyes flickering about wildly. It waved for a moment, confused by the angel’s lack of fear, then lumbered towards him. Quick as a flash, the angel’s hand opened, and an enormous cruciform sword appeared in his grip, twelve feet long, the blades on either side extending out two feet in either direction, and curving towards the tip slightly. The entire sword was wreathed in a black flame. He ran forward, and plunged the blade up into Rhühmoüs’s stomach and out its back. The beast groaned, then swung at the angel with its flabby arms. He withdrew the sword, tearing it out of Rhühmoüs and spiraled backwards, avoiding the flailing arms. Each of them took a few steps away from the other, then they both charged forward. The angel’s sword was in its hand. They collided, and the angel jammed his sword into Rhühmoüs’s heart, twisting cruelly. The monster stopped, its mouth open, its eyes amazed. It’s arms swung at the angel for a moment, in a poor attempt to strike him, but the angel leapt back, letting go of the sword. Rhühmoüs grasped at the sword, trying to pull it out, but it’s arms were too short. It staggered for a minute, then fell backwards. It dissolved as it fell, exploding into tiny pieces of shadow, which dissipated as soon as they came into view of the angel. The angel waved his hand, and the sword came winging to his hand. He snapped his nimble fingers, and the sword disappeared. Then, changes began to occur. The angel was beginning to grow bigger. After ten seconds, he rather resembled Rhühmoüs. Soon, he had completely taken his shape. He would stay here until something better occurred to him. He sat down, clapped his fat hands together, and the light disappeared. Suddenly, the adrenalin that had been being pumped through his veins was cut off, and he collapsed, weaker than the weakest hellkin. He retained his shape of Rhühmoüs, but he was unconscious. Helpless.

“More. More! Give me more!”

Lightning and pure energy crackled from the throne room, then a great explosion was heard. Smoke billowed out of the room, polluting the already ashen air, hanging like a cloud of poison gas. Hideous laughter issued from the room, and electronic discharge came from the room. The clouds inside the room began to dissipate, and shapes began to form. It was Lucifer’s throne room, but the throne was gone. In its place was a black blowing pentagram, etched into the ground. It’s outline rose out of the floor to create a solid container. Inside this force field stood the Anti-Christ, Dűscậth. He had changed much in the past week; he was now fully grown, standing at six feet tall exactly, he had a full head of jet black hair, a pale, gaunt face, a goatee to rival his father’s, and a mouth full of jagged teeth. His eyes were black Solid black. He stood naked in the pentagram, his arms held up by invisible shackles. His feet similarly chained to the ground. His tattoo, etched with blood taken from Zoane’s grisly remains, depicted the number 666, the number of the beast, on his upper back. Also was a tattoo of a pentagram, in the small of his back. This tattoo used an injection of his father’s blood.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Dűscậth?”” asked Lucifer, panting loudly with sweat dripping off his forehead. His hands were raised up, placed on the outer sides of the pentagram, and he was supporting himself on it. He looked extremely weak; the pallor had gone from his face.

“Yes father, very much so,” he drawled, grinning, “Your life energy tastes very good, very good indeed,”

“Good. Wonderful. Now get the hell out of the pentagram. You’re going to drain too much,”

“As you wish, father,”

The Anti-Christ stepped from the shining star, and it slowly faded from view. Lucifer collapsed onto the floor. He was barely breathing.

“Why, what’s the matter father?” grinned Dűscậth, “are you tired?”

“Damn you, you hellish brad. You’re lucky I need you, otherwise would have killed you for that,”

Dűscậth spun around with his arms outstretched, and laughed. Lightning flashed from his fingertips.

“Destroy me, father? I think not,”

“you’re too cocky,” Lucifer gasped, the room spinning before his eyes, ‘That is not a good thing. Age and wisdom will defeat brute strength and youth always,”

“Yes, that is what I’ve been told,” Dűscậth sighed, “would you like to try? Come now, just this once,”

He put his fists in a mock fighting stance. Lucifer looked at him like he was insane, then turned to face the window looking out on Hell.

Dűscậth's face blackened. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me, old man!”

With that, he hurled a ball of lightning on the crippled devil in a streak of blind anger at not being taken seriously. It struck Lucifer in the back, and hurled him towards the window. He collided with it, and was sent hurtling through the Hell-wrought glass and out of the Mourning Star. Dűscậth smirked pompously as he envisioned his weakened father falling into the deepest pit of Hell, leaving him to rule. He walked over to the window, and leaned out of it, looking for his father. The ball of fire hit him full in the face, knocking him back and sending him flying across the throne room.

“So that’s how you want to play, you little son of a bitch? Fine then.” Shouted Lucifer, soaring back through the window on his great bat wings. He flung another fireball at Dűscậth, but the Anti-Christ dodged it, and flung a ball of energy at his father. With a raised hand, Lucifer deflected the black magik, and it impacted on the ceiling, burning a hole straight through with no difficulty. Lucifer swung the enormous claymore that he had just conjured at Dűscậth’s head. If the blow had connected, the Anti-Christ’s skull would have shattered. However, he ducked at the last minute, and flung another ball of energy at Lucifer. This time, the age old devil could not spiral away quick enough, and it clipped his left shoulder. The devil roared in fury, dropping his sword. Dűscậth caught it before it hit the ground.

“Check and mate, father,” Dűscậth drawled with satisfaction, leveling the sword at his creator’s throat.

“Fine. You win, this time. Stand down,” said Lucifer.

“Oh, I don’t think so, ‘dad’. Not this time. No, I think I’ll drain you of your energy, and leave you here to die, while I take over your kingdom!”

Outrage played across Lucifer’s face, “What the Hell are you saying, Dűscậth?” he demanded.

“”Oh, I think you heard me the first time,” Dűscậth said, as he pulled the sword back, preparing to thrust it into his father. A second passed. Dűscậth drove the sword right into Lucifer’s heart, and twisted it roughly. He smirked with satisfaction as he watched his father fall to the ground. Dead. He reached down to finish sucking the life out of the devil, to find that he wasn’t there. He had disappeared.

“Fuck,” swore the Anti-Christ. A panel on the right side of the throne room slid away, and Lucifer emerged, unharmed, from the darkness. He was flanked by two slavers, each carrying HellCannons: the new, modern weapons of the Infurnum. The bore a resemblance to human guns, and when activated were able to shoot a disintegration beam, a stunning shot, or large black fireballs. There was no limit to their firepower. Satan snapped his fingers, and Baaka chains appeared from nowhere, holding the Anti-Christ still. Baaka chains were unbreakable, even by the power of a god. No one knew where Lucifer had gotten possession of them, but he was very proud of them and used them whenever he could. His son hung from the ceiling, bound by his hands and feet.
“So, my son, you seek to destroy me, do you?” he asked, calmly.

“Merely an exercise, father,” the Anti-Christ replied, “I knew it wasn’t you,”

“Of course you did,” Lucifer smiled sardonically, “Take him away,” he ordered the two slavers, and they took him, bound in the Baaka chains, out the door. The Anti-Christ was shouting.

“No, father, you can’t do this to me! You need me! Let me go!”

“My son, from not on, I will deliver you my energy into your cell, which will be lined with Baaka plates. You will learn to obey me,”