-Many ugly things dot the world. Jealousy, desperation, wickedness…-

What a vile and twisted creature. Bishop L’oral could scarcely believe what his magical senses were telling him. He felt as if he was facing a living mass of detestable things: a force of nature, rather than a person.

The child he saw speaking with Lord Aldermane must not be human. He looked human, but the details were wrong. Not to mention the magical contract he asked the lord to sign and the two dead guards slumped against the wall.

L’oral thought he knew what this was. It was a legendary existence that hadn’t been seen in this world since the founding days of the Church of Angels, the antithesis of the pure and good creatures L’oral worshipped: a Devil.

Though it may be hard to believe that a creature told of in fables had appeared here out of nowhere, L’oral trusted his feelings.

And he could not allow this city and its lord to fall to a Devil.

#

The tension in the air was palpable. Despite holding his head high and acting casually the priest and the Devil Prince both were very aware that the being they were facing was dangerous.

Holding his prayer beads up to his lips, Bishop L’oral whispered, “Salu Celestia. May the holy light preserve me and vanquish evil.”

A nasty grin split the small Devil’s face, hearing even just two words in Celestial. But he spoke a word or two of the holy language as well.

“Anhel de sil fornicus homissia mavi,” he said, which roughly translated to: “Your Angels are inbred whores.”

The priest’s face twisted in great offense, and he pointed the hand with the prayer beads at the Devil. Within an instant, an orb of radiant light formed and launched itself right at the Devil’s face.

Astaroth stepped to the side and dodged the attack, but just barely. He could feel celestial heat burning the tip of his nose like a sunburn.

“I can’t promise you’ll live if you don’t leave now,” he snapped at the city lord. “We’ll discuss the contract again after I’ve uprooted your fleeting hope.”

More radiant orbs of light formed around the Bishop and shot out like stones from a sling. With impressive quickness, the Devil produced orbs of red flame in the same numbers and sent them to intercept. The city lord, scrambling to escape the rapid blasts of heat and light, slammed the door to the study when a pair of clashing orbs nearly hit him. Bookshelves toppled over and paperwork went flying. After a few volleys, the Bishop paused for a breath, and Astaroth took the chance to complain.

“Can we not damage my future possessions, if you don’t mind?”

Then a flaming red lance formed above him and bored into the Bishop’s shoulder, knocking him out the window. A cocoon of golden light embraced him and protected him from impacting the grounds below. The Devil lept out of the broken window and landed cleanly, though the shock traveled up his legs through the souls of his feet.

Damned wingless larval form, he cursed.

Bishop L’oral staggered to his feet and held his prayer beads tightly in both hands. A great sword made of golden light formed in the air in front of him and sped toward Astaroth, who reflexively deflected the jab with his claws. The pale but sharp nails smoked faintly. He raised one hand above his head, and a storm of flaming daggers spiraled around him, keeping the radiant blade away long enough for the Devil to close the distance, taking a bloodthirsty swipe at the Bishop’s neck. A spectral golden shield blocked his strike; the same one that broke the Bishop’s fall.

The Devil swiped his claws a few more times, trying to break through the barrier, but it held strong. Behind him, a rush of air warned him that the radiant weapon was back, and he threw his body out of the way without hesitation. It still wasn’t fast enough though and the holy blade of light managed to pierce through the Devil’s side, where a human’s kidney would be.

Holy purity seared Astaroth’s flesh like even the hottest fires couldn’t, and blackish-red blood poured liberally onto the pavement.

“Hah!” A wrathful laugh slipped past the Prince’s lips, and he locked eyes with the holy man.

Suddenly, Bishop L’oral found himself somewhere else: the world was red; Devils blotted out the sky like murders of crows; fire burned the land and sky… Nowhere could he feel the presence of the Angels.

The holy man was pulled along on a ride through the Nine Hells, where he saw unspeakable things. But it wasn’t really him moving anywhere: it was his soul. His body was kneeling on the pavement, screaming while blood poured from his eyes and fire seared his flesh. Unlike the guard Astaroth had subjected to this torment, the Bishop survived. He survived long enough to see Astaroth standing before him, clutching the wound in his side and smiling cruelly.

“Was that Hell?” L’oral murmured, broken.

This time, there was no golden shield to stop Astaroth’s claws. The Bishop’s head rolled on the pavement, and his body collapsed to the side.

Releasing a breath, Astaroth held out a hand palm-up. The air spun above it, flames sparked, and everything dispersed to reveal a black iron coin with a human face on it. He crushed it between his teeth and it disintegrated into motes of light. Slowly, the wound on his side sealed shut.

And now, he could get back to his original goal here.

After a short trip back into the manor (and a while longer spent searching the many rooms within) Astaroth found the city lord lurking in what appeared to be a tea room.

The Devil raised a brow, but decided not to comment. Instead, he held up the Infernal contract he had rescued from the office.

“Shall we pick up where we left off?”