-A massacre which would horrify most can instead be entertainment for the deranged.-

As the order fell, a wave of monsters surged forward. In the face of large-bodied beasts charging with claws and fangs bared, many from the peasant army broke and ran, but not all. The front line, armed with whatever they could find, and with everything to lose, stood firm.

A four-legged dog beast peeled ahead of the pack, and one human peasant was knocked down by its ferocious leap. He screamed as his throat was torn out and quickly died, but the other nearby humans seized the chance to surround the beast. Iron prongs stabbed into its flesh from multiple sides. It howled and threw its weight around, knocking several of the peasants back by ramming its flank into them. However, a lucky strike to the canine’s neck felled the beast.

One monstrous foe was down, but now the rest were upon them. With the arrival of the disorganized body of the horde, the battlefield split into many smaller sections. On some sides, the humans were able to secure a numbers advantage, surrounding and harassing their enemies to death, even at the cost of some of their own. In one corner of the war zone, a threesome of trolls were playing a bloody game of catch with an armless man.

The total numbers for both sides were similar, but the monsters had an overwhelming advantage in quality. Anywhere the humans didn’t outnumber their attackers, they were slaughtered.

But the battlefield was utter chaos, and Astaroth glimpsed some humans who fled into the horizon. Others, he knew, were still holed up in their homes. The peasants still fighting were madmen with wild fury in their eyes.

Astaroth sat comfortably in his palanquin, enjoying the show. Screams rang out in the distance, and he noticed that one of the houses had been breached. He smiled in amusement and propped up his cheek on his fist as he watched women and children being dragged outside.

After one house was breached, more soon fell, and the air was ringing with high-pitched cries of pain. A peasant man who saw his wife and child had been grabbed threw down his weapon and pleaded with a miserable, broken voice.

“Stop, you monsters! Please! I yield! Don’t hurt them!”

A hobgoblin had been raising his club to strike the man, but his arm froze when he heard words of surrender. He cast a nervous glance back toward Astaroth, who raised an eyebrow in warning. The hobgoblin trembled and lowered his weapon.

Several desperate people who witnessed this started shouting out concessions as well, and the violence against them stopped. Even the most fiery farmer remaining decided to yield when he realized their lives could be kept.

With an awkward silence following the chorus of surrenders, the monster horde looked uncomfortably at their leader—except for Rahashik, who stabbed the throat of a man whose mouth he had covered quickly enough.

Frowning while looking at the mob of survivors, Astaroth sighed. “Strip their clothes and use them for their bindings, then gather them all together.”

The monsters did as ordered, clearly depressed that they had less human meat to eat tonight than they expected.

One of the prisoners snorted a small laugh at a bugbear who was having trouble tying knots. The bugbear bashed in the head of the prisoner in a moment of rage. For a moment, the beast was euphoric, but then she stiffened, hearing the sound of a small-bodied Devil jumping off his palanquin.

“While a war prisoner can be killed on a whim, that decision ultimately lies with the commander. You’ve disregarded my chain of command, beast.”

The bugbear lowered her stance defensively. From the look in her eyes, she felt cornered and was prepared to fight.

“It… it was a mistake,” she grumbled.

A pair of fiery red irises peered at her coldly and without sympathy. “Well, mistakes have consequences, and the punishment for insubordination is demotion. But what to do? You’re already the lowest rank among my pawns. What say I enslave you to compensate for the prisoner you killed?”

Sweating under her fur, the beast gritted her teeth and bolted, attempting to flee her punishment and the wrath of this Devil.

“So it’s desertion now?” A sadistic smile twitched at Astaroth’s lips. “Given the situation at hand, I believe the highest punishment for that is justified.”

He snapped his fingers, and a wall of fire sprung up from the earth, forcing the fleeing monster to skid to a stop and quickly change her direction. However, it bought enough time for other monsters to catch up and grab her.

“Break her legs,” Astaroth told them.

The sounds of crunching and screaming caused one human prisoner to faint and another to release their stomach contents. Currently, there wasn’t a single one feeling in any way glad that this was the result when one of them was killed at random. It only made them more aware of the madness and cruelty of the person holding onto their lives.

Snapping his fingers again, a blood-red bonfire flared into being beneath the bugbear. She was slowly being cooked by it, and so she obviously tried to roll herself away, but Astaroth just waved at a nearby monster.

“Kick her back in.”

She tried to escape once more, but the same thing happened again. Finally, Astaroth crouched in front of her, the light from the flames dancing ominously across his face.

“The highest punishment for desertion is a tortured death. But thank you for being an example for the others.”

Astaroth reached forward, uncaring as some of the bonfire’s flames licked his pale skin. His claws pierced sharply into the bugbear’s chest and forcefully dragged out her beating heart. He tossed it to Rahashik, who took the gesture as permission to feed the lump of meat down his snake-like throat.

“Now, let’s see,” Astaroth walked up to the huddle of pale and trembling humans. “Shall I make an example out of one of you as well? I don’t want you mongrels getting ideas just because I don’t allow my subordinates to kill you.”

He raked his eyes over the assembly, unconsciously licking his lips with a forked tongue in anticipation. A young girl caught his eye: just a small and precious thing who couldn’t hurt a fly.

Astaroth adored children; they were so innocent and beloved. Almost any race would feel anguished to see their offspring harmed.

“What a cute little girl. Alright, crawl forward if you don’t want me to burn your parents alive.”

Taking rapid, hiccuping breaths, the child quickly burst into tears. Her panic was acute and debilitating, so she didn’t move from her spot except to tip over and enter the fetal position.

Astaroth smiled devilishly and reached toward her, “What a naughty child you are.” He stopped his hand when a young boy rolled in front of him.

“D-don’t touch Aewyn,” he demanded fiercely.

“Really now?” Astaroth chuckled. “Are you her big brother? How are you planning to protect her when you’re all tied up and facing a real live Devil?”

The boy gritted his teeth and did his best to stand up without using his arms, which were tied behind him. “T-take me instead! I’ll be the example, so leave my sister alone!”

Still curled up on the ground, Aewyn whined her brother’s name, “Cassius…”

No adults stood out to say anything. Astaroth wondered if they were already dead or just selfish.

“Well, aren’t you brave? Alright, we Devils can be reasoned with, after all.”

This looks like a good chance, the Devil Prince thought. And he’s weak, so the bar is low.

“You know, human, if you swear your loyalty and soul to me, not only will I let you and your sister live, I’ll also gift you powers like mine. But if you refuse I’ll just return to my previous whim and kill little Aewyn. What do you think?”

Cassius looked over his shoulder at his sister crying, glanced at the burnt and heartless corpse of the bugbear monster, and scrunched his eyes shut tight.

“I’ll do it,” he nodded.

“Then let’s shake on it,” Astaroth said, offering his small, white hand. Both it and his eyes were glowing with a mysterious and swirling red-black light. It looked appropriately mystical for the current atmosphere, but inside, Astaroth was straining from exertion. Thankfully the boy only hesitated for a moment before taking the Devil’s hand.

Red and black flames engulfed the boy, swirling an image of torrential power, but when they subsided, the boy appeared just as before. Cassius was more changed than he appeared, however, and he demonstrated it by lighting a magical fire in his hand. Astaroth guessed that the knowledge and power to perform infernal magic was still buzzing in his soul.

“You are a warlock of mine,” Astaroth told him, “and I am your patron. Your power is borrowed from me. Use it often and you will adapt to be capable of stronger magic. Just know that my power and your soul can be taken away easily should you displease me.” He cracked a small smile. “Ah, but as promised, as long as you remain my loyal warlock, I won’t kill your sister. I’ll even be kind and protect her; let her live better than the other slaves.”

Cassius nodded and clenched his fist to extinguish the flame. “Okay, uh, master. Th-thank you.”