***The Infernal Planes of Gluttony***

***Amon***

I popped back into existence, landing right where I had left the Infernum. In my time on the mortal plane, I constantly wondered whether being summoned could be abused to fast-travel.

Now I had my answer, and I wasn’t pleased about it. In the future, I would have to be very careful to only accept a summoning when I was somewhere safe.

Assuring myself that this day would have come anyway sooner or later, I placed a hand on the hilt of my dagger and started walking towards the top of the hill at which Amon’s grave was located. At least I had done everything I could to prepare for my return.

I had gotten a minor bag of holding from the humans. It was hanging at my side and held by a leather belt which was admittedly a little too big for me. The bag was filled with everything that I thought to be useful – mainly weapons and stolen magical items of low value, but which were good to have.

My time with the mortals may have been mostly peaceful, but that didn’t mean that I had been idle. True to my demonic nature, I had bargained and bartered until I got what I wanted… or taken it through other means.

That my visit to the mortal plane had been abruptly ended was unfortunate, but not unexpected. A demon could hold back his nature only for so long – and even in the end I never violated my contract. It was the mortals who banished me ahead of schedule.

Who knew that firing an icicle up their prince’s posterior would be received so badly? I hadn’t even injured him. My aim had been perfect! Not a single drop of blood was spilled and yet the mortals had acted as if a noble’s anus was something holy and utterly untouchable to them.

Though, I think it was more about the fact that he was nailing a minor noble who was nowhere close to his station. That, and that the noble in question was male.

I pursed my lips, suddenly sad that I hadn’t managed to escape their banishing ritual. Given the humans’ strange social rules, it may have been possible to pressure them into giving me something very valuable in exchange for keeping my mouth shut. They rightfully decided that banishing me would do the trick just fine and be cheaper in the long run.

I sighed as I reached the hilltop. It wasn’t like spending any more time with the mortals was desirable and I had essentially accomplished spreading my summoning circle among them. There was much more to gain by hunting fellow demons here in the Infernum.

Maybe the Anima Stone network would even send me to another mortal plane where better contracts could be struck.

But those thoughts were not of immediate concern right now.

I had to find other demons, preferably demons who could be easily subdued. Then there were the unknown dangers of this region. Sozzudon didn’t seem to be concerned about the local wildlife. But then again, he was an adult demon on an extremely fast hover-bike-thing.

From the top of the hill, I could clearly see the hole which led into the crypt. There was no doubt in my mind that Sozzudon had abandoned the site a long time ago.

Fortunately, I had my own way of rapid locomotion which Sozzudon lacked.

My wings stretched and my muscles flexed as I rose with the first beat. Then I was airborne and slowly gained altitude, flying straight up into the violet sky as I studied my surroundings for some recognizable landmarks.

Sozzudon’s bike was fast, but he had to travel a convoluted path over land and so my wings quickly carried me high enough to recognize Baaar in the distance. By observing the place from an airborne position, I could only confirm Sozzudon’s assessment. It indeed looked like a gigantic turd in the landscape, henceforth came the assessment that it was the shittiest place in the Infernum. From there, I quickly figured out where the valley’s hatchery was located.

Mortals probably would have some fuzzy feelings about their birthplace, but if I ever decided to return there the hatchery would burn with all its inhabitants, demonlings included.

I tilted my wings forward and settled into a slow glide, allowing the air-currents to carry me forward. Most adult demons weren’t capable of natural flight and had to rely on magic. Even succubi who kept their wings would have problems to achieve more than gliding without magical assistance.

As an imp with wings, I quickly learned that I didn’t have that problem yet. My wings were large enough in comparison to my body to carry me the old-fashioned way with muscle strength. I wondered whether using magic for flight was a natural demonic evolution upon reaching adulthood, given that the Infernum was a place that brimmed with mana.

Back in the mortal plane, my regeneration rate was so abyssal that I could easily exhaust myself if I wasn’t careful. Here, on the other hand, I felt the energy surging through my mana channels. It was doubtful that any demon would actually want to leave the Infernum if it weren’t for the lack of souls.

Mana wise, the mortal planes felt like dry deserts.

I hovered in the air for a good hour while I patiently observed Baaar and the caretaker’s valley in an attempt to find out what demons actually did when they weren’t busy with being summoned by some mortal. I wasn’t stupid enough to fly right into Baaar and to get myself killed with all the shiny items on my body. After all, I was still quite clueless when it came to my own kind’s society.

Actually, something told me that Amon’s artefacts were bound to my soul and couldn’t be taken without permanently killing me. The Anima network would consider them as a part of my body as long as I had some souls left within me.

Which didn’t mean that others wouldn’t try, or just kill me for the fun of it. And there was still the dimensional pouch which was certainly not included in this arrangement.

My careful patience was rewarded with a few answers and even more questions as I observed armed warbands of demons fighting each other in something that resembled organized chaos on the outskirts of the city. I channelled some power through my ring of Arcane Sight, which granted me not only the ability to see mana but also enhanced my eyesight considerably.

The adult demons only had eyes for each other and ignored groups of demonlings and imps who were trying to make a living by foraging through the leftovers of the battle. Them being ignored wasn’t that much of a surprise. After all, hunting down demonlings wouldn’t give an adult demon any souls at all, and imps wouldn’t be that much better.

The Demonlings didn’t have the luxury of growing up in a hatchery, so they were consuming the corpses while parties of imps tried their best to loot the equipment without getting in the way of either demonlings or the warring factions.

I found this arrangement quite curious, but only up until I witnessed a swarm of over fifty demonlings overwhelm a group of three imps who had gotten too greedy when they approached the leftovers of a recent skirmish.

The demonlings didn’t care for the loot.

The carpet of little bodies moved like a single organism and cared only for the fresh corpses as they happened to flow over the imps on their way to the fresh meat. The slow imps simply got in the way of their feeding frenzy, so they paid the price. The demonlings lost about two dozens of their numbers, but I knew from my own memories that demonlings didn’t particularly care for their hatchmates.

Demonlings stayed together because it was convenient and because it gave safety. The slowest ones would die while the fastest lived. It was a gamble that assumed that oneself wouldn’t draw the shorter stick. And, a fallen comrade often enough only meant more food.

I wondered why that was so. The hunger pains from my time as a demonling were quite real. Why was that, when food didn’t really allow a young demon to grow? Was it some strange rule of the Infernum?

Further away from the city, huge monstrosities roamed the landscape. True titans in all shapes and forms who were as large as entire buildings. They explained why all the fighting was restricted to the city’s outskirts. In turn, these creatures were apparently also wary of the city, because they always kept their distance.

I wasn’t keen on messing with those things, so I turned my attention back to the inner city which seemed peaceful enough. Aside from the fact that there was a steady stream of adult demons which supplied the battlefields on the outskirts with fresh bodies. They spawned at a huge Anima Stone on a decently sized platform which was located in the city’s centre. From there, they would quickly organize themselves and receive the equipment which the imps had looted from the battlefield.

It seemed like a little ecosystem of its own.

As I drew a slow circle around the city, all the while keeping a respectful distance, I noticed that most of the fighting was concentrated around the base of the gently rising mountain outside the city. That was where Sozzudon had said that the Lode Stone was located. Did all of the combatants want to leave Gluttony?

I thought about it and came to the conclusion that this entire setup was like a gigantic game of ‘King of the Hill’. The strongest warriors would gather huge amounts of souls and likely decide to leave Gluttony for good once they could.

It was embarrassing to realize that my plan wasn’t as ingenious as I thought.

Originally, I intended to kill demon after demon, slowly working myself up the pecking order. With everything I knew about the Infernum’s rules, it was without question that killing anything on the mortal planes would always get me only a single soul. It was so much work compared to slaying a single strong demon which would gain me a tenth of all the souls he had accumulated.

Only, the way those guys down there were going about it was utter madness. Why would anyone want to hunt souls on a battlefield? The chance to end up with a knife in your back was huge. There must be a point at which it became almost impossible to accumulate any more souls before you lost them.

I scratched my cheek with a claw and then the explanation came to me.

A certain power must be ensuring that this scenario went on indefinitely, and there was only one entity who would profit from a setup such as this. The Planar Lord of Gluttony himself. Joining this battle would be a losing proposition.

My original plan of fellow demonslaughter didn’t seem very profitable when viewed in this light.

But then again, maybe I was thinking too small. If anything, then this battlefield was proof that going on a simple killing spree wasn’t the path to becoming a powerful demon.

An amused chuckle escaped my lips as my attention turned to the city and its Anima Stone. Mass murder was the way to go here! Would the Infernum count me a kill if the city happened to go up in flames? How many corners would I be allowed to take before my involvement in someone’s death wouldn’t be accredited to me?

There were so many things I had yet to learn, and I knew exactly where I could get the answers.

I searched the outskirts of the battlefield and singled out a group of five imps who were foraging far away from the actual fighting. Then I tilted my wings and descended rapidly, landing right on top of the corpse which they had intended to strip of its items.

The five were only a few steps away when I landed almost on top of them. They froze upon seeing me, gawking as if they had never seen an imp with wings before.

“Greetings, I have questions,” I introduced myself and spread my wings to look larger and more menacing.

They looked at me, and I looked at them. From up high it wasn’t as easy to see, but I found these fellow imps lacking. Their hunched positions told a tale of a life spent in submissiveness to their fate.

“Well?” I asked and focused on the imp at the front. “Can – you – speak?”

The imp bristled and showed me his teeth. “Get out of our way. We have work to do and this corpse is ours!”

Unfortunately, the negotiations failed before they could begin.

Faster than I had any chance to react, the imp had drawn a dagger and rushed forward.

I could feel a tenth of my mana drain away as my Infernal Shield activated on its own. The fiery barrier sprung into existence as a flaming, slightly orange haze that didn’t completely deflect the dagger’s approach, but slowed it enough for me to catch the imp’s wrist.

It was like my opponent had tried to stab into a layer of jelly, which gave me more than enough time to grab his wrist and draw my own dagger without hesitation as the memories of a soul stirred from deep within me.

The movement felt familiar as the tip of my blade sunk into his chest and slid back out in a single motion. Guided by an entity that was me and yet wasn’t, my blade kissed his innards three more times before he could even scream. Once he did, it only came out as a wet gurgle.

Slice and dice, and on top a little bit of spice!

The other ‘other’ sang from within me as I pushed the imp over and slit his throat with a sawing motion, cutting deep to sever his tongue before he tumbled to the ground. The imp came to rest on his back and his eyes showed surprise, but my actions made it seem like he had gotten a second mouth that was laughing madly.

Curious, I knelt down and pried his mouth open to rip out the tongue. Once I had the object of my obsession, I realized that I was giggling madly.

I steeled my expression and tried to suppress what was the most serious case of losing control over my souls yet. This time, it hadn’t been the magician, but the warrior who made himself known. Gaining so many powerful souls was clearly something that hadn’t been good for my mental fortitude.

Trying to find some solace in a snack, I bit down on the tongue.

When I returned my attention to the remaining four imps while chewing on the tender flesh, I could tell that I had earned their respect. At least none of them dared to come within the reach of my blade.

I swallowed and pointed the tongue at the next in line. “How about we try this again?”

He nodded eagerly.

“What is this battlefield over there about?” I waved the tongue in the general direction of the nearby mountain where the fighting was the heaviest, and all eyes were transfixed to the severed piece of flesh. “I am new here, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Is it some kind of war, or a competition?”

The imps looked at each other and shook their heads before the one I had addressed spoke, “No, not war. It’s the annual rite to determine the strongest warriors. Those who manage to claim a place among the warriors closest to the Lode Stone will have the honour of accompanying Lord Ostreios in an assault on another plane… For satiation and souls!” He added the last bit as if it had been drilled into him.

“Ah,” I commented and nodded to myself. That made a lot more sense. Given how expensive travel between the Infernal Planes was, the Lord of Baaar was likely to assemble a legion that consisted only of the strongest demons. “This is a regular occasion?”

The imps nodded and reasserted once more that this wasn’t some kind of war, but friendly competition. We demons had a very exact language when it came to the different forms of violence. It went so far that, as an example, we had six different words for war.

There was a personal wàr, which was declared on a personal enemy and would likely only end upon killing that one enemy.

Wâr, was between two families and would only end upon the eradication of one family down to the last egg, which would never concern me since I wasn’t from a powerful demonic bloodline, nor affiliated with one.

Then there was wãr, which was between two warbands and was fought for one reason or the other without personal feelings in the matter. It could be ended in case one side chose to submit or their contractor perished.

On a greater scale, there was wår, which was fought between two Demon Lords with them being the only ones who had a say in the matter.

The ultimate form of wąr was when a Demon Lord managed to gather enough power to challenge a Planar Lord.

Finally, there was the wăr which even demons feared when two Planar Lords went to town on each other. Luckily, the caretaker had clarified that such a thing had only happened once in living memory.

One had to be very careful when declaring war in the Infernal language, less the Infernum might mistake a good-natured oath of murder for a battle against the whole plane. And as Sozzudon had taught me, verbal contracts with reality itself as the judge were a bad thing.

I returned my attention to the matter at hand. “And you guys are what? The local footboys who are fetching the lost equipment?”

They nodded and the one I had addressed spoke, “You could say it like that. Normally, we make a living by hunting demonlings for the market, but during the festivities, we have the chance to earn much more. The warriors are giving us one soul for every retrieved set of equipment.”

“Wow… sounds really profitable,” I commented mockingly. “Why don’t you join the battle? Isn’t it much better to kill a demon of your own? I imagine it would take only a few to get to your next evolution.”

The three in the back shook their heads, agitated at the thought and their speaker shrugged. “It would certainly be a dream of ours, but how likely is it to challenge an adult demon and to survive? They are hard to get alone and our only chance would be to gang up on a weak one. And if we tried and failed the challenged party would have no problem with waiting for us at the Anima Stone. They would kill us over and over again until our last soul is used up.”

I frowned. “Spawncamping? Such a thing is allowed?”

The imp shrugged. “Who would stop an adult warrior demon from killing a mere imp? It isn’t like we are the spawns of some strong demonic bloodline. Nobody would give a second thought about our demise.”

“Oh, but I do!” I smiled and beckoned them closer which they reluctantly did, careful to not get within reach of my oversized dagger. “Haven’t you realized what great of an opportunity this battle is? Allow me to help the four of you to help yourselves.”

The new leading imp narrowed his eyes, smelling the trap. “At what cost? And what’s your name?”

“The cost, only a little more information and maybe a few experiments.” I offered him the rest of the tongue. “And you may call me Amon.”