***The Crystal City***

***Ascathon***

The clerk returns, taking a look around the corner with a somewhat anxious expression on his face. His agitated gaze sweeps over the waiting area until his eyes land on me. He nods, apparently satisfied that I am still at my place in the corner of the room. “It won’t take long now. We are almost ready for you.”

When I don’t answer and just glare at him, he decides that being somewhere else would be indefinitely better than to wait for me to blow. Like a dog with its tail between its legs, he shuffles away to get out of my vicinity, probably feeling that I would love nothing more than to tear him limb from limb.

My gaze switches over to the clock on the wall, checking the time. If the man sticks to his previous behaviour, he would return in ten to fifteen minutes to make sure that I am still waiting for him like a good little pet.

Sadly for him, I have no longer the intention of playing a good little pet. I am the only person left in the resting area for half an hour. The last person who was processed was some gentle, old deity who preferred an elderly appearance. For hours, she did nothing besides telling me that she almost didn’t manage to make an appearance in time.

If there was any doubt about what was going on up until that point, then it became quite obvious that the guy was stalling me, though I wonder who offered him enough to do something so foolish. Ignoring the risk of gaining the Council’s attention, I decide to check out what’s going on at home – just to be sure.

A quick use of the pathways is enough to return me to my base, where I reappear in the empty central corridor. If I am quick, I should be able to check if everything is in order and be right back without anyone ever knowing.

“Hello?”

There is no answer, but I smell the rancid stink of burned electronics when I inhale. Sniffing, I follow the smell in the direction of Ashley’s intelligence centre where I find the first two corpses, Lea and Fiora. Someone turned the two succubi onto their backs and closed their eyes, making it seem like they are just sleeping.

In a corner is a smashed workstation which is undoubtedly the source of the smell that drew me here. Some shorted out circuit is still spewing sparks, smouldering some plastic parts.

Kneeling down next to Lea, I check her body for any signs of a lingering connection to her soul, hoping against hope, but her spirit has long since departed. Clenching my jaw, I grind my teeth audibly and pull my eyes forcefully away from the body, searching the rest of the room.

There is a third corpse, a shrivelled something that’s impossible to recognize. Only the fine clothing indicates that it was either a very wealthy person of this world or someone else altogether. He too shows no signs of a lingering soul when I check. In fact, there seems to be no spiritual energy at all inside the body. It's in a worse state than even a mummy from some ancient tomb. Those, like any other bodies which died of natural causes, have at least some lingering signature of their departed soul.

That’s when I notice the holographic map in the middle of the room, displaying an entirely different tactical situation than I remember it to be when I left – all out war between Myrm’s faction and mine. Even more startling, my side seems to be losing quite badly, which shouldn’t be possible thanks to the mobile fortresses which I gifted to my people. The Alliance has nothing like them… unless...

“They are playing foul!” I hiss, blasting the projector unintentionally with a wave of force as I lose control over my power, destroying the machine. There is only one explanation for all of this! Myrm’s people are actively assisting their mortals. Wild rage flares up inside me at this blatant breaking of the rules.

“No matter.” There is nothing I can do about it at the moment without taking action myself. Where are Willow, Karin, Ashley, and the others? They can’t be all dead. First of all, I have to make sure that they are safe.

My thoughts return to the shrivelled corpse and I slowly get an idea of what must have happened. It’s not my first time seeing the remains of a succubus taking a full meal. I doubt that other attackers would have stood by and watched one of their friends getting sucked dry, so only one of Myrm’s followers managed to enter the base and at least one of my people must have survived.

Walking quickly, I hurry over to one of the workstations and activate it, logging into the facility's security system. I check the current state of the facility, but everything seems to be fine aside from a singular breach of the teleportation barrier, which must have happened when the single intruder gained entry.

Pressing my lips together, I pull a face in an attempt to puzzle out where the others went. If they realized that Myrm is actively joining the war they wouldn’t have stayed on the planet. It would have been much too dangerous.

Following a hunch, I decide to check Ashley’s castle, taking a pathway directly to its entrance. But one moment before I should materialize once more in the other dimension, the instinct which comes naturally to all gods takes over, averting my path and forcing me to appear several dozen metres away from my intended position.

Turning, I get the answer for why my path was diverted. I would have appeared inside a giant pile of debris. In front of me is the scene of the castle which was turned into a smouldering ruin. Taking a tentative step forward, I spread out my senses. Searching, I sent out my consciousness along the pathways, spreading myself over the whole area.

It doesn’t take much to find Willow and Isabella with the scrying spell, two bodies next to each other, placed directly on the road towards the castle. Taking a pathway directly next to Willow, I kneel down and touch her cold forehead. Again, someone draped them in a somewhat dignified position, laying them down on their backs with their hands resting next to their bodies. Just as if they were sleeping.

Just that they aren't.

Willow clearly suffered some kind of lethal trauma, blood covering her chin and neck. Her hands are two bloody and maimed ruins. Isa's left side is almost completely crushed as if someone stepped on her as if she was a bug.

Again, their souls are gone, the bodies just empty shells, discarded for their next reincarnation. With remorse, I realize that I am not even sure if Isa has a next reincarnation. As a demi-god, her fate was still uncertain in that regard.

Still, I can’t help but pull Willow up into a sitting position to hug her. I called her a minion on numerous occasions. More often than not just in order to tease her, but if nothing else, she was one of the few true friends I had left. She stayed at my side over the eons, while others died, disappeared, or turned away from me for one reason or the other.

Reaching out, I take the remaining hand of Isabella’s crushed body. She looks like she ran face-first into a train. Someone destroyed the etheric beauty of the one who was once my wife – as much as demons would admit to such a relationship.

Putting Willow down gently, I step back, trying to steel my expression as well as my resolve, ignoring the tears running down my face.

“Fuck! I told you to go somewhere safe, ever since they started this whole World Enchantment business! I should have sent you and Karin away and never allowed Ashley to join this stupid game.” I reach for my chest, feeling something contract within me. This is my fault. I knew from the beginning that something like this was likely to happen.

And them!

They truly didn’t care about any of the rules if they even attacked this place. If Ashley had any sense, she took Karin and whoever she managed to find and retreated somewhere deep into the Infernal Planes. There are layers of reality out there which even the Council would hesitate to venture into.

There would be no point if I went to search for them right now and it would be too dangerous for them to return if they aren’t already lost to me. Maybe forever.

Taking a step forward, I take a pathway back to my base, appearing right inside my laboratory. Walking past the tank with my other body, I brush a hand over the surface and venture straight to the new high-security test-chamber which I set up for experiments with the Mana Crystals. I open the heavy metal door by kicking it in, ignoring the alarms which I set off. The whole system was never intended to repel a god anyway, but to keep nosy allies away from my research.

There isn’t much I achieved so far in terms of shaping the mana crystal, just some crude weapons. Shaping Mana Crystal to one's will is hard enough, but growing the stuff quickly yields imperfect results. Shaping the involved energies is an almost impossible task without losing cohesion of the involved forces, affecting the unique properties of the material.

Nonetheless, I take the knife which was one of the results of my labour. It’s half the length of my lower arm and slightly curved, with a grip whose lower end doubles as a punching ring. The blade is thinner than one would expect from a weapon like this, but Mana Crystal doesn't suffer from the same limitations as metal. Where metal would bend like clay in the hands of a god, Mana Crystal holds steady and is able to cut through any aura with ease. That's why most gods don't use mortal weapons unless they are heavily enchanted to withstand abuse.

If someone relies on using a weapon, they have to summon weapons by shaping their own energies.

Still, the end result of my experiment looks very much like the unintended offspring of an oversized bush-knife and a karambit.

The other weapon is a crude crystal spear, it’s shaft shaped like gnarled wood, making it not very appealing. But the tip is a straight blade with the size of a short sword. It was a first attempt at making something bigger than a knife on the fly. The work isn't pretty. In fact, I was very much disappointed with this one, but it should do the job.

Lastly, I grab a belt with several pouches, each filled with the remains of discarded Mana Crystal. They are just discarded fragments, but even little shards can cut when wielded properly.

That leaves me with one more stop. I just hope he is still there and wasn't dusted too.

Twirling the knife between my fingers to get a feel for it, I head over to the elevator which grants access to the facility's lower levels. The entire time, it feels like my body is moving on auto-pilot. Punching in the code, stepping inside, waiting for the elevator to arrive at Lucifer's feeding pen.

When the door opens, I just whistle into the darkness, waiting for Lucifer to answer my call.

My familiar replies with a pitiful 'meow' stumbling out of the darkness in its kitten-form. Only the little, bloody paws destroy the wrong sense of safety and innocence Lucifer is trying to create. He settles down inside the elevator, cleaning his fur.

The action makes me want to yell at him, questioning his priorities. How could he play around while important people died! But I know that it wouldn't be fair. Lucifer is smart, but he isn't a sapient being. The one who designed him never intended for him to be more than a familiar and I never managed to truly correct that. It would have required meddling with his whole being, making it easier to create a completely new familiar. I couldn’t do that, especially since he is a memento of my teacher.

I settle down and close the door to get us to the last stop, my book – or should I call it a diary of myself?

Collecting the artefact from its pedestal proves to be no issue and I return back to the upper levels, my diary thrumming with chaotic power while hanging from a fitting pouch on my belt.

There is no particular reason to change my outfit since I had no time to incorporate the crystal-tech into any armour. The black leathers I always preferred will be enough.

As soon as I leave the elevator, I return with Lucifer to the waiting area in the Crystal City's administration department.

Sitting down, I stare at the wall, trying my best to think of nothing, else I might snap. And I don't want to snap. Not before it's time. When it doesn’t work, I do my best to use the time in order to think of my possible next steps, playing through different scenarios in my mind.

I am still in a trance when the corrupt clerk reappears, nodding at me from the entrance. He furrows his forehead as he takes in my appearance. “You don't look so good. Have you been crying?”

When I don't answer, he hesitates, afraid to pursue the matter with someone of my reputation. “Don't worry. Ahem, I am sure we will be done any moment now. I know that waiting for hours for some bureaucracy must be disturbing.” He turns, intending to go back to his previous business.

Taking a pathway, I appear right behind him, startling him when he turns fully and bumps into me. Stumbling backwards, he retreats into the waiting room. His eyes widen when he sees the blade in my left hand and he instinctively releases his aura, pushing me slightly away. It's a good reaction, but the wrong one in this case.

Barely half a second after his aura sprung into existence, my knife cleaves through it as if it wasn't there in the first place. The tip of the curved blade bites into the side of the man's belly, hooking into it. My hand doesn't stop though, and I cut all the way to the other side. Angling the blade, I pull it back – down to the centre of his groin, then up, all the way to his chest, carving an upside down, inverted '4' into him.

With a manic expression, he looks down at himself as his aura sputters out of existence, clearly unwilling or unable to cope with the situation. With his muscles cut, his belly is unable to hold onto its contents and guts spill out of him and onto the floor, sullying my shoes.

Pulling the knife out of his chest, I take a step back to avoid the mess I made.

As soon as the knife is out, the fumbling starts. The clerk falls to his knees, trying to stuff his innards back inside. I've watched scenes like that often enough to know that it could take quite some time to realize that, while not immediately deadly, the blow was fatal.

He is still busy with himself, his face now distorted in a silent scream, when I crouch down in front of him, my head tilted as I study him. “And do you know the best of it?” I whisper. “Healing makes it only worse because that blade didn't just cut your mortal flesh. I tried cutting myself with it once. The damned knick was worse than a paper cut and took weeks to heal. Healing just caused it to bleed more. I've yet to find out the actual reason, but it doesn't matter at the moment. Verifying its ability to cut through an aura was more than enough. I guess I should thank you for the help.”

Croaking, he draws in a long, exaggerated breath, presumably to call for help.

Leaping forward, I grab him by the hair of his head and swing the knife like an ax, cleaving through his neck, separating the head from his body.

Turning around a little too enthusiastically, I splatter blood onto the wall as I make a 180 and head back to the little table in the waiting room in five long steps.

Working with manic speed, I tilt the head upside down and dip my finger into the neck-wound which is oozing blood. Then I draw the ritualistic circle and symbols of a most basic revival spell – with a few little alterations for which my teacher would have flayed the skin off my back.

Like, tethering the soul to this incomplete piece of flesh tightly enough to make it impossible to depart without incinerating the whole thing. And giving it the whole range of feelings.

When I am done, I plant the head in the centre of the circle and infuse the ritual with power, granting it just enough mana animate the head without regrowing anything.

Sometime during the procedure, the head stopped moving. But now, infused with green, necromantic energies provided by the ritual, it blinks. Then the mouth starts moving again, opening and closing in silent, unheard screams.

It's quite hard to scream properly if you have no lungs to push out air and your vocal cords are gone.

“Have you ever wondered how it's like to have your eyes poked out?” Raising my knife, I slowly push the tip into his left eye-socket, causing the remaining eye to go manic.

Having my rage satisfied at least a little, I retrieve the knife and pat the head which is working out its jaw. “Don't worry. It's evening and you are the only person I've seen for some time in the building. But! Good news! At the very least, I am very sure that someone will find you in the morning! You just have to endure until then without going mad from the pain. That’s the worst for an immortal, am I right? Being raving mad? But I am sure someone important like you will manage without blinking an eyelid. Just a few hours!”

His remaining eye searches around the room, rolling upwards in its socket, then down again.

Sniffing, I notice the odour which is spreading through the room and pull a face. The beheaded body must have lost control over its bowels. “Gods, what did you eat? It smells like you were rotting from the inside!”

Of course, the head is no longer capable of answering that question.

“I better go. Please give the cleaning staff my apologies, but there are people to kill, corpses to revive, a world to destroy, you know, evil stuff.” I giggle and ruffle the man's hair.

Then I get up and take a pathway back to the world, feeling already a little better. Who knows? When I am done, these tears might stop flowing.