There was just so much they could do him to make him talk, but he would speak, he decided, he would indeed talk... small talk, that is.

“You know…” said Matthieu, “I’ve read books about my people slaughtering yours back in the days. Damn, they fell like…” he opened into a bloodied smile, “flies. Yes, that’s the perfect example.”

Matthieu challenged Clast with an unwavering smug.

Clast looked back; he did not care or maybe faked not to.

Clast sighed, “I wanted to leave you with at least a hand to clean your ass with, but I guess since you can only talk crap, you won’t really have any need for it.”

“Oh, clever! An intelligent fly, no wonder you were the Prince of your fallen race, eh Clastiel? How’s your first daughter? And your mother? Oh, and your sisters?” asked Matthieu, “You know they’ve died the gentle death, right? Raped over and over again by our incubuses, and hounds naturally. Oh, I can’t tell you; those things have third legs, I tell you. Your women might have gotten the best side of the deal.”

Clast smirked as he prepared an Adamantite saw. Matthieu knew the saw was cursed to never allow regeneration of the body parts it had cut away, “I bet you know very well. That Priests of Lore bed with their own demons is common knowledge, Matt. Your first-hand knowledge must be thorough as you say.”

“You talk back, Clastiel, but you know I’m right. Their bodies have never been found. Didn’t they?” Matthieu asked. “You want to know why, don’t you? If you ask gently, I might tell you.”

Clastiel’s hands wavered at that. Matthieu knew why. He knew fairies’ custom was to return their deaths to the One Island. The One Island in the skies of The Expanse was now an abandoned ruin, it once held the Temple of Wind, but it had been relocated ever since the Fairies fell, together with its Great Spirit. Matthieu didn’t know much more about that, not even his location, but he knew that Clast would want his families’ corpses back.

“Then why don’t you tell me?” Clast said, he kept up his, mostly, unwavering aptitude as if it was a joke having to deal with him.

There had been quite a few Priests that disappeared on the battlefields only to be returned like useless husks of their previous existences. They whispered only one thing then… ‘ Clastiel ’.

“You really want to know? Won’t you get back at me? No, will you release me? Please?” Said Matthieu giving his best to fake his desperation.

“Of course I will, Matt. I wouldn’t want to incur in your father’s rage,” answered Clast with the same level of falseness. Matt didn’t like that answer, though. Nobody touches my father.

“Alright, Clastiel. Come closer, and I’ll tell you.

Clast did as he was instructed, and Matthieu could find amusement in his expression.

“You can find them… under the dirt of my shoes. Our hounds have the habit of eating their victims after they’re done with their ravishing, you see.”

Clast straightened back, “You know, Matt. You are not really giving me many opportunities to show you my… mercy.”

“Did you know what really happens to the unfortunate of you that end up in my hands? I guess you’ve seen it; you must have been prepared for the eventuality before coming here for whatever it was that you wanted to do in the Dungeon,” Clastiel continued.

“Oh, what is it that you do? You make me suck on your tiny dick? I might be homosexual, but even I have standards. I wonder how you even managed to catch your beautiful, Clastiel. We all know that your race is not the most furnished there is,” Matt answered.

“Such an obsession you have with penises, Matthieu. I guess given your continuous coupling with demons, your standards have distorted. However, no, I wouldn’t make you suck on my dick. No, but I would indeed make you suck on something.”

Clast turned, calling for something, “Bring it in!”

The guards brought inside Matthieu's cell, something covered with a black sheet.

“You want to know what I’d do to you, you’ll find out soon enough. And don’t think I don’t know about your abilities to hide into your Souls.”

Clast removed the veil covering the device. What was revealed was a device with a nasty looking almost phallus-shaped extension.

“You wonder how this device is called? I’ll tell you, this is called the Soul Raper.”

Matthieu had indeed heard about it. It was a device they used in The Deep. They had no access to it but were not expecting anybody else to do, especially not the Druids, which did not have the best relationship with them given the fact that they both possessed Seers of invaluable might.

It was Matthieu, the one sighing this time. I guess it’s about to get very real.

“It seems you do know, courtesy of your father’s position, I guess,” said Clast. He then got closer and sat on the arm of the chair, bounding Matthieu, “You know, from Zane’s son, I expected a bit more… More. You seem like a very average individual, Matthieu. Are you sure you weren’t adopted?”

“Fuck you. Put that thing in my mouth and let this be done with.”

Clast chuckled, “You really must have an adoration for phalluses, Matt.”

Matthieu did not answer; shrugging, Clast proceeded.

The device would slowly work out every resistance Matthieu would ever be able to muster, given time.

Time is on my side. Time is on my side. Thinking so, Matthieu receded behind the walls of his Soul. It would be a long day.

***

The Sanctum inside of the Reversed Tree kept flashing with the light coming from the Inner Sanctum.

“I wonder how they are doing that…” Prisha whispered to Fred. She did not use their channel to speak with him; she wanted to be heard.

“I don’t know, but whatever happened with those intruders must have been positive for them, which means very negative for us.”

“But what good is it gonna do? I mean, more them having more Paragons just means more experience for us… I know it’s mean, but that’s the truth. Slowly but surely, they are going to be eradicated; what good is even there in fighting back?” She asked, her question was one to mock those hearing her into answering.

“Prisha…” Fred whispered, “I don’t know about you, but I’d gladly enjoy leaving a few more years to live, you know? I still didn’t get to shag a Giantess; I would love to try at least that.”

“Very funny,” said one of the Bastards drawing closer, “So very, very funny, frog-jailer.”

Prisha ignored Fred and focused on the Yggdrasilian bastard coming toward her. It was somebody he had already seen, the one guiding the expedition that captured them.

“You must be Phreviel, right?” She asked. Prisha’s heart started racing immediately.

Not only they rarely answered them, but the confident smile on the creature’s face said that the monsters were really sure of themselves.

“Yes, and you are Prisha Patel,” Phreviel laughed. Then he kneeled close to her.

“I’ve heard about you. The blonde-haired tall woman fought to let you, and the big guy over there, leave together with your companion.”

The blond woman? Greta? Helen?

“But you already know, do you? You aren’t going to ever leave this place. Your Spirits are much too valuable for us. They are our bridge.”

“Your bridge? What does that mean?”

Phreviel smirked, “I believe you should know at this point? Don’t you?” His eyes lingering on her feet. “I’ve noticed, or to be more honest, my beloved did, but we kept our mouths sealed because the Reverse Tree doesn’t care about what you do with the blessing he has been forced to give you.”

Prisha visibly shivered.

If they know… if they know and are entirely ignoring us, then what is their deal? What are they planning to do?

Prisha’s metaphorical gears in her mind couldn’t turn faster than they were doing at that moment, but as Phreviel left, she couldn’t get a proper answer out of him. She would have to wait and see, hoping that the wait and see part wouldn’t end up with the end of their journey on that beautiful planet.

***

Thomas Walker just woke up. His Roman residence had all he wished for his leisure time.

However, that day was a busy one, and he couldn’t allow himself to spend a lot of time lying in bed doing nothing.

He yawned, thinking, It’s barely eleven in the morning…

Thomas let himself fall back on the bed.

It was actually ten-fifty-eight, but his well oiled internal clock had woken him up a couple of minutes before the alarm rang.

It did before his eyes closed shut again.

He woke up looking like a zombie and headed to his living room.

It was a fairly classic room with everything centralized around to work with the tablet currently in Barachiel’s hands. The Angels were watching a nasty TV show where people were put together inside a house and left there until the public did not wish to see them anymore.

“If it was for me, they’d all belong to hell,” Thomas heard him saying. The Angel was talking with Xenaris, the succubus. The two were both sprawled on the divan, commenting on the show.

“Thank you, but even I wouldn’t want those people home, even our torturers wouldn’t wish to put their hands on them. They are just too annoying and fake.”

“Good morning, guys,” said Thomas, “Coffee?”

Coffee was the only thing he drank in the morning, no matter he grew up to be so thin.

“You should not be skipping breakfast Thomas, how many times should I say that?” Said Barachiel; he did not turn, too engrossed with the show.

“He’s right, Tom. You should put some meat on those bones. Otherwise, you are not ever going to find a woman that loves you,” the succubus agreed.

“Shouldn’t you always have different opinions?” Thomas asked, amused.

Xenaris shrugged.

A message beeped on the tablet, the messaging app Thomas used was connected to both his phone and the tablet, and his phone was long since dead; he did not care enough to charge it.

“Who is it?” Thomas asked.

“Zane,” said Barachiel getting up and stretching, “He says he’ll be here in half an hour.”

Thomas raised his eyes to the sky.

“Why do they always have to push me so soon in the morning…” he lamented, “Nothing’s gonna happen before midnight, for God’s sake.”

Both Barachiel and Xenaris chuckled, “You should really drop that saying,'' said Xenaris.

“Ah, right, he’s dead and all. But it’s grown on me, anyway. How are Bahamut and Grey?” He asked as if just remembering.

“Bahamut is ready for the big reveal,” said Barachiel.

“So is Grey, but he fears that there will be consequences if you do what you planned,” said Xenaris.

“I know, but it’s the right time. Alter will change forever. If we don’t proceed now, there will probably never be another time,” said Thomas. By the time he took his fourth cup of coffee, he felt ready to leave. At his level of Attributes, he barely felt a hint of its effect, but it was pleasant all the same.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he announced.

“Do you need company?” Xenaris asked.

“No, thank you. I’m fine today.”

She muttered an “Ungrateful…” as he went.

Before reaching the bathroom, Thomas could hear her ask it to Barachiel too. “Do you?” She asked him.

“Nope,” was the Angel’s answer.

“Ungrateful… both of you. You know I get hungry in the morning…”

***

By the time Thomas finished showering, Zane was there to pick him up. Meaning he was there to teleport him to their destination.

Thomas still had his hair wet, but he liked it that way. To let it dry in the sun, not that he could suffer from any backlash anymore.

“Top of the Morning to you, Zane,” Thomas said.

Zane nodded, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. The Archbishop, currently dressed in civilian clothes, like Thomas himself, was lost in his own world. “Morning,” he answered uninterested.

Thomas couldn’t help but give him a supporting smile and place a hand on his shoulders.

“Matthieu is a capable individual, Zane. He is your child, yes. But he won’t fail.”

“I know,” answered Matthieu, “ and maybe I should have told him so more frequently. But will I be able to now? No.” He shook his head. “I’ve been too stern.”

Thomas nodded, “He will be your pride; after today is done, everyone shall remember his name forever. They are going to make him Saint, you know?”

Zane nodded, “I know, but…”

He’s going to say it, isn’t he? Thought Thomas.

“But that will not give me my child back.”

A few long moments of silence ensued. In the end, it was Zane recovering first.

“Let’s go; they are waiting for us at the Main Headquarters.”

“Why not call it the Vatican?” Thomas asked.

“It’s anti-climatic, even here we are in the Vatican, Tom.”

Thomas sighed, “Let’s just go…”

The very next second, they were inside the Apostolic Palace.

Here we go again… Thomas thought.

He could, of course, feel Pope Alexander’s massive presence if he so much as moved a couple hundred meters from his house to the main Vatican’s building direction. Feeling him up close like this was unnerving, to say the least.

The monster already back in the days of Lore was a creature whose might bordered to the Legend level, was now really a Divine ranker. His levels were known to lay somewhere between 181 and 186. A proper Tier 9. One of the strongest individuals in Alter.

Being a man of two thousand years, he was someone at the level of the ancients that ruled life on Alter. A creature that could metaphorically annihilate anyone with as much as a flick of his fingers.

Not that he would dare to lower himself to act. Because it was only natural, when titans such as him moved, so would the others act. Few had the luxury to ignore these rules. And when people of their level faced each other in battle, it meant utter destruction, the annihilation of an empire, of what they had built, it meant through war, it did really mean as much as declaring open war.

So they resided in their abodes, content to move things in the shadows.

Pope Alexander was a monster, whether it was about the power or how he governed it.

He could nudge entire governments in doing what he wished, without as much as them noticing him.

Thomas had been fascinated by the power this man radiated, and he knew that the same could be said by the Pope when he met him.

However, with time and the unhealthy obsession the Pope had taken in him, Thomas had started feeling oppressed by the man’s overbearing presence.

The Pope gave him order after order, he made him lead attack missions, he made him join important meetings. To Thomas, it almost felt like the Pope wanted to forge him in his ideal right-arm.

But that was not what Thomas wanted; Thomas wanted everything the worlds had to offer, but staying under the Pope’s shadow was not something Tom wanted, nor needed.

He had started feeling… captive of the Pope’s presence.

If it goes the way I wish it does, I’ll be free of him, I’ll be free of them all. Because the world will be in such panic that nobody will dare give my disappearance any importance.

I shall finally be free of using my powers to the fullest, use them exactly as a true Herald should.

His fragile plan, however, bordered around one other man’s decision. Somebody he had met and joined eight years prior. He was invited to the ‘ night’s party,’ naturally, and if their allegiance was still what it should have been in the past when they struck their deal. Then the plan would go off without a hitch.

Eight years is a long time for ideas to change, said Barachiel resting in his Soul.

I know, but that man has waited for six hundred years; I doubt he will back down now. But if he does indeed… then we are…

Xenaris finished the sentence for him, Fucked, truly and wholeheartedly fucked. Without even a drop of lubricant, and by an elephant.

Thank you for the wonderful image, Xenaris. That was exactly the encouragement I was looking for.

However, ” Barachiel interjected, “ the depiction is quite filling, if I may say so.”

“It is…” said Tom out loud, “It indeed is…”

“What is?” Asked Zane as they walked on the beautiful pavemented road leading to the Apostolic Palace.

“Oh, our destiny, Zane. It is going to be amazing. Amazing.” Thomas grinned. It was going to be a long day.