The rift broke open and sent the three strange thieves who used it as a gateway on a quick tour through the air. One met a rock headlong, the other literally ate dirt and the last one escaped a similar fate only due to frantically flapping dark wings.

"Stranded in the gutter? Sanded into rubbish? Landed w—" "Shut it!" The crocodile spoke before biting its rider in the backside, plucking the misadventurer from the soggy ground of an extensive meadow now featuring a strange hole.

That scantly clad, wiggling ass did kind of rub it the wrong way. Opening his mouth, the pale old man spat mud, flowers and pebbles. As soon as the worst had passed, his mount was caught in the crossfire of his justifiedly rising anger levels.

Reminding the latter that its very species had no muscles supporting peaceful extraction of razor-sharp teeth once it went for a bite, the skinny man only calmed down as his ride ripped off a big chunk of his lanky ass nonchalantly.

Smugness was palpable in its ferocious eyes as the injury readily healed under the sway of the immediate gathering of black mist. Until a rusty pitchfork dug deep into its muzzle, followed by screams of pain and hellish clamouring.

The show was just getting started. "You dumb old fart, for what was this?" "This old fart has a name, Trambalureidicroc." "Pshaw. If I could only puke I would. Agares it is then and explain yourself!"

Agares approached and jumped high, intent on laying down on Trambalureidicroc's broad back. It nestled so well between the cursed spikes. There was just enough space for someone as skinny as him.

But the crocodile skittered away, taking advantage of the muddy ground while talking up a storm. "Explain yourself!" Agares stubbornly shook his head, grabbing his pitchfork tighter as he intended to use it like a pole.

He never explained anything. Out of water, crocodiles had no good range of movement. Forwards was fine, backwards barely too, but left and right? That'd take time the reptiles often had not.

Yet Trambalureidicroc was sadly not an average crocodile. "Let me mount you." "No you won't!" Agares had no luck even after many tries, which made him curse in anger and the lush meadow lose the vibrant green.

Bleakness crept steadily over the land, with him at the centre. "You're merely my mount! Obey or I'll find another," he blared. "And you're merely a penniless devil. Can't afford the pay!" Trambalureidicroc countered right away.

Agares eyes lit up in even more anger, his whole body contorting as did the surrounding space. His skinny form disappeared under the encroaching darkness while his menace grew manifolds until another companion intervened, boxing him in the back and the mount on the snout all while annoyedly inspecting his wings.

Trambalureidicroc caterwauled in fury but a radiant pillar of black light hit it on the head and some of its recent memories got erased for good.

"Damn you, Crocell." Said it after an imposed reset had amply suppressed hard emotions. "Don't interfere in our affairs!" Agares complemented his mount's thoughts just as the former couldn't do so because another beam of black light came shooting its way.

"Head turned clockwise helps to calm down the nerves. Adherer to the radiant above, found headless in gutterish rubbish among the pervs." Agares displayed a mocking grin at Crocell's pompous declaration.

Not mentioning the fallen angel wasn't below inventing words just to keep to his dark riddle talk was his most impressive contribution to not endangering this most important mission.

"Save your spite for Brachiel. Heard you got officially challenged, so the longer this takes the more likely they see you as a pimp." The fallen angel's dark wings radiated power but nothing beyond what an innocent fit of anger would conjure.

This was a sore spot and Agares knew it. Yet he wouldn't be a devil if he didn't take this chance and tease the comrade, much less the mighty Duke of Hell he really was.

Immersed in the standoff between three pairs of eyes, they then heard the crumbling of nearby stone. Out of the levelled elevation crawled the last member of their hurriedly assembled expedition band.

Nodding towards Great President of Hell Camio, Agares laughed one last time at Trambalureidicroc's and Crocell's expenses before returning to his immoral self.

Not caring in the slightest what others would think of him, he took off his rags, smeared the dirt from one part to the other, spit fumes and dark green flames at the pieces and happily waggled his stark naked ass in their directions.

Why he cared about the dirt the flames burned to nothingness in the first place was a mystery only he could explain. But any form of boring routine was never entertaining enough, so Agares refused to give any quarter even when proper questions were asked.

The others knew of his quirk, so they ignored him. Camio didn't show much emotion while being exposed to Agare's antics just like Crocell. He had yet to completely revert back from his thrush form with which he'd believed to buffer the sudden fall somewhat.

Of course, like so many other things, his beliefs had been defied by reality. If anything, the transformation only messed up his feathers and broke many delicate bones.

That one day he'd almost end up completely crushed by a mere fall was not something Camio would've dreamt about even in his worst nightmares. Which he had control over...so it might not even count.

Camio refrained from pointing fingers at the dastardly culprit boosting shitty spatial control. As a President of Hell, he was inferior to them in both power and standing. Betraying his raging emotions simply wouldn't be wise.

Not to forget that if things went south in this expedition, they might all find death at the end of useless struggle. "Cows are to the north," he said after Agares had finally stopped screwing around and clothed himself.

"So what are we waiting for? Hop on!" A precise kick to Trambalureidicroc's hard leather made the mount add another entry to the endless list of grievances yet welcome the other devils on its back without flying into a rage.

The group was soon moving northwards at such speed Camio had trouble intruding into the animals' minds they were passing by. Yet considering this was the sole reason he was part of the team, the circumstance made him struggle even harder.

"A word on this expedition." Agares stashed the pitchfork away in his stomach. From there, he'd take it again when needed, wherever needed. "There's only success allowed.

Baal's getting his ass handled by our Kings and Queens. Or he handles their asses. Last time I checked it wasn't clear, really. Anyway. Point is, if we fail he handles ours. And others will keep watching."

At these words Camio liked this expedition even less but he was already on board. Not that he was given any chance in the first place.

The devil still remembered them tearing him away from his four-hundredth concubine without as much as uttering an explanation. Next time he knew it, they were already rushing somewhere.

It was then that he got some much-needed information, albeit lacking to this day. "In other words, if not for the Kings and Queens, in our stead there would've come Baal."

"Cooked brain cells' importance—" "Now, now. I know you're angry, Crocell. I'm no fan of this witch hunt either. But call Baal names and he calls you. Wouldn't want that for the love of it."

The wind was tearing at them but the three didn't care. To harm them in any way would require much more than simple speed. "Of light and pussies behated comportance."

"...are you seriously continuing to talk in riddles? At least at the beginning where you only repeated one darn letter in all its variations a thousand times it was sufferable. But this is just awful."

Crocell folded his wings and started grooming them. As an ex-angel of the middle rung, he still retained some aspects even hell couldn't corrode with exposure and time.

He couldn't stand dirt on his wings, as much as losing matches by default or otherwise. Yet time wasn't his friend. "I know you'd rather fight the panjandrums and the abyssal noise they make."

"Left the fronts for a menial task. Returns and a conspiracy unmask." "The abyss won't dare. If things go south because of their intervention or we can't handle this expedition well, they'll suffer too."

Agares found the two's heightened attention on him but didn't dare tell any more. This was knowledge reserved for the Kings and Queens. And of the bits and pieces he'd stumbled upon over the centuries, he could only applaud the censure.

While the abominations might turn to the battlefield between the forces of light and theirs of hell, no powerhouse of the abyss would applaud that decision much less come there to eventually die.

The battlefield might become chaotic for the time being but Agares knew that devils thrived best in chaos and conspiracies. In terms of handling chaos, they wouldn't be up to par with the abyss and its crooked creatures, but their enemies were others this time around.

"How much longer, Camio?" "Approaching." Came the short reply from a sweat-covered President of Hell, constrained by his limits. Getting swiftly bored by the silence, Agrares struck up a conversation.

"Crocell. Fighting your old role model and teacher isn't the end of your road, I hope?" The fallen angel didn't respond imediately. "While defeating an old hand of the Virtues certainly underlines your progress, there is not all to it.

In fact, it isn't unheard of the Powers to prevail over the Virtues in the right circumstances." "Closure it brings." The fallen angel eventually replied, his wings now groomed until they shone in resplendent dark light once again.

"Power to my wings." "So you're about to advance? Then I certainly understand your zest for action. But remember that Brachiel might kill you, Baal will do so without a doubt if this goes highwire." Crocell adjusted his light armour and nodded in understanding.

"Dukes, the scared animals all over the pasture don't run anymore." "Then we're pretty much close. Don't kill randomly, Crocell. Remember, we're identifying the target, activating the enchantment. Then, force-feed, scare and collect."

"Then comes Astaroth's contraption into play." "Right you are, Camio. Ready yourself for that while we keep things under wraps." Trambalureidicroc stopped suddenly, the three ancient creatures of hell jumping off its equally ancient back.

Surrounding them was a collection of mostly cows and bulls but also other animals such as horses, sheep, goats and more hoofed quadrupeds albeit less numerous.

The next quarter of an hour, Astartes and Crocell showed the silly bunch just which qualities made them stand at nearly the top of hell's hierarchy.

Then when there was only one cow of excessive size left conscious, Crocell accelerated to the greatest speed he could manage and secured its mouth, prying it open with gargantuan strength.

Naturally, there was much resistance. But for the time being, he had the upper hand. Astartes came next, stopping it from moving with the help of Trambalureidicroc while Camio force-fed it all the grass he could find growing around.

As if the divine creature was a goose, he stuffed it into its mouth and down the throat, stopping only when the immediate meadow surrounding them had been bereft of all and any stalks.

Feeling the expulsion from this realm increase exponentially on them, the three exerted themselves to the utmost to end what they had set out to do.

Camio summoned a giant empty jar and frantically tore away at the divine cow's udder, thinking nothing about its discomfort and fury that soon turned into panicky fear while the pull intensified by the second.

Extracted as much milk as there was, the jar failed to impress any of them so they installed Azaroth's prized contraption much rougher than planned, ultimately grounding the poor creature.

The contraption looked very complicated but was actually simple in both use and purpose. Poles and pipes connected to various weights would make sure that all the milk was taken and the creature force-fed when nothing was flowing into the jar.

There was a runic heart installed just above the holy cow's, exerting a mighty pull force that'd rip away the vibrant stalks from all over the realm and towards the contraption. It also came with a certain security feature.

If idle time exceeded a preset limit, various poles with spikes on them would stimulate the holy cow to rethink its options. Such a fate awaited all denizens of hell who didn't work like demanded.

At times like these, it showed just how similar devils could behave, no matter their ranking. As a last effort, they pooled their strength and engaged in one last collaboration.

Summoning imps and the likes to stock up on the feed and guard the place, they were soon forcefully exiled from the plane. Each one of them returned to their usual tasks, glad knowing Baal would calm down soon and their hides were safe too.

Crocell set course towards the Immemorial Battlefield, cursed grounds that never saw a second of peace. He was slightly late, but not by much. His very essence foretold a truth. A different thunderstorm was approaching. Crocell liked it!

Feared as the most nightmarish of immoral monsters out there, Thoth found himself stared at in a corner, the ever-increasing pairs of eyes accusatory and condemning.

Cracked ground and mistreated space the elves found themselves surrounded by became safe, albeit uncomfortable lodgings by his mere presence alone.

Thoth didn't want a sudden hole in the ground gobbling up his treasure in a freak accident, his consciousness stressed out by the revelation postdating the baby's brief disappearance.

Never ever, Thoth thought, distressed still. Never ever shall I be forced to relive that moment. It was fear coming from deep within him, fear so elusive yet unforgiving he failed to shake it off.

Fear so great even the serious injuries he was suffering from now more than ever before paled in comparison. Thoth knew very well of the terrible repercussions following any one of the immortal's volatile state of mind, if that came to be.

Their power too vast to contain when it truly mattered, no such instance would find a happy end. Not for the powerful being in question, not for all that lived and thrived in the region.

Mortals would die at most, but the culprit had to live with this baggage for the rest of his time. He knew that, but at the same time, he also couldn't condemn his actions. He wasn't the perpetrator, after all.

Not all are bad at that, some even care so little about others even immortals shun them, found Thoth after a silent second of prayer reserved for the perished.

Baggage that keeps accumulating, stress that eats at the mind, warps the soul, binds cognition. An enemy Thoth knew had the best chances at ending the immortal.

In his circles, it was known that most true deaths occurred due to themselves, no outside forces involved. Perhaps as a trigger. Thoth shook his head, forsook the dangerous thoughts and immersed himself in reality. The baby was safe.

Both on a microscopic level and to his magical scans, which in the meantime had accumulated uncountably. The elves' wrath welcome too.

Provides an anchor, keeps the mind occupied. No matter if god or otherwise, no immortal can do without good anchors. Maybe he wasn't as detached as he believed to be...

At the very least, Thoth wasn't nearly as quixotic as would be required of him to be to misinterpret their feelings, the ire tightening the chests, that fire smouldering fervently in the eyes.

Yet with the baby here within reach, their fury wasn't his to be concerned about. "Thoth," Elfriede whispered, no iota of energy contained in her hollow body any longer, her eyes dull.

Thoth turned his head, tilting it so his vertical ash-coloured pupils merely brushed past the gathering of people without triggering anyone. At least the tree is safe was a stray thought of many crossing his mind.

The energy he exuded was erratic at best, his previous outburst seemingly so far away as if it'd come from another lifetime altogether. Yet no elf entertained any deadly delusions, for which Thoth was also content.

The bunch's class. A shadow of the former bite but...smidgens remain however minute. "I am not your enemy. Rage quelled for sure...so is any goodwill left." Elfriede's head sacked back as she tried to nod yet failed miserably.

"I...thank...you." "No need." Thoth wasn't ready to murder innocents in cold blood, but that didn't mean he suddenly cared or felt responsible for the miserable elves standing before the levelled remains of their property or their dead.

Some freaked out citizens still called the names of the missing ones, elves desperate for a reunion of any kind. Thoth ceased to care about Elfriede or the fervent hustle and bustle, preferring the silence over useless word-wagging.

The sleeping baby was just too cute to not look at. Will become a mighty mage one day. Problem was, it didn't sleep in his arms. Damn lucky lizardwoman. Taking advantage and playing dead already? Demands I keep my guard up.

You shan't entertain hopes for thievery. He heard her accelerated heart rate, felt the air rushing through her lungs and unassuming eyelashes quiver. Hers blinked vertically, so Thoth noticed. Yet she didn't move, the baby still happily nestled away in her bosom.

While he was torturing his brains with ideas about how best to extricate his precious treasure from unwanted trash, the gaggle of elves surrounding their weakened prophet parted and the remaining elders approached.

They took their sweet time, unsure of what to expect from the volatile almighty they'd crossed twice already. Outside their awareness, there might even be more grievances between them.

"And?" Thoth for sure wasn't happy with them interrupting him as he watched the most infinitesimal of changes the baby underwent in her sleep. Whatever they had in store for him, their words would be empty air itself to his ears.

"...top?" "Yes?" The elf whose name he failed to remember, took a deep breath, shook her head at the others warning her with panicky eyes and repeated her question, this time without swallowing more than half of it.

"Wasn't this over the top?" Thoth ignored them, keeping his warm eyes trained on the baby. Her body shuddered, her eyelids trembled. Must be a nightmare. Heard that bunch loves sending bad dreams to mortals.

Might need to...warn them. Thoth didn't like that one bit, but at the moment he refrained from casting another planar class spell. After all, time had mellowed him out quite a bit. Plus, the consequences...

However, if this had happened some odd millennia ago, the actual star map might need revision. "You expect me to reason with lowlife? To engage in mouth waggling for the one responsible? Brokenhearted?!"

Thoth didn't sound accusatory in the slightest, his voice was controlled but flat. "Duwende...provoked you and the price is harsh but fair." She surely had something else bugging her tongue.

But the elf knew best that arguing on that front wasn't doing them any good. "Your point? I suggest...," Thoth was tired of handling elves, his social energy truly spent.

Nothing good would happen if he forced things. Not in this state of mind. "...you keep this very short." The elders stiffened up but didn't run off either.

At least they've gall. Sass probably too. Fucking with immortals...I've got to give them that. "...as you wish." The elf took another deep breath, focusing her iridescent blue eyes on Thoth until he met her neutral gaze before continuing.

At the furthest end of his mind, he suddenly recalled her name. Avelyn. "Why involve the Great Prophet? Why punish a dear friend so excessively?" Thoth grinned, his ancient gully having trouble keeping a load of creepy laughter down.

The elf stiffened at his reaction, her gaze darkening by the second. "You misunderstood. As you're always prone to do as far as I know. Talked to Elfriede about this. Yet she didn't share my opinion."

Thoth fought the disgust welling up in him, ignored the heightened frequency of quivers enveloping the lizardwoman's body and took her in his strong embrace. Next, he'd really require some peace and quiet. Aethernum called.

"Misunderstanding? Please enlighten us. ...and heal her." Avelyn standing between him and his centre of power played a very dangerous game. But seeing her bow and the remaining elders surrounding her following her example soon after, Thoth relented.

Slapping our relationship in my face? Fine, I'll humour you. "A broken oath concerning immortals brings serious injury or even death upon the fool in accordance to the extent of violation.

Elfriede took the young. Gave me her word. Rebound is impossible to cure. That's all." The elf's confusion was palpable but Thoth didn't care anymore.

Avelyn most likely expected a different kind of answer, but that was that. Aethernum wouldn't come to him without creating a totally unwelcome fuss, so he had to go there on his own.

Only when he was gone from their sight and the elves almost out of his immediate sphere of perception did he discover understanding dawning on their now paperwhite features.

The realm stands, some things live, the stars move and no lasting repercussions as far as I can tell. Breaking some of the seals though... I'm still standing because they were rather unimportant.

Anyway...what to do with the young next? Feed? Cuddle? Make the young stronger? More resilient? Cram magic? Walk the realm? Set off for others?

No, walking realms doesn't seem appropriate with all the traps surrounding us and a bunch of elves of medium intelligence near the trigger. As for setting forth towards other destinations...that'll come soon anyway.

Laying low? Creating unparalleled items with long-forgotten enchantments to secure the young's survival and hinder a possible repetition of today's events to come to fruition?

I...wouldn't be near the young then. Plus it takes time. This requires serious consideration.