A bustling crowd of youths both male and female crowded around an ivory building squatting beneath the towering spiral that represented Armazel Military & Magical Academy. Azazel had deigned to allow Armaros' name to remain in the title of their academy. This building was the lecture hall that had been established with the advent of the new gods occupying Ischuros. Today, Horchal, the god of fire, pain, and rage was giving a lecture regarding the manipulation of elements using magical power.
Fire was naturally a popular element for mages, with its destructive might and explosive potential, and almost all the students of the Armazel Academy, the sons and daughters of the wealthy who could afford the tuition, were streaming to fill up the new lecture hall. Urmu wasn't in attendance. He had no need; he received private tutorship in many higher magical concepts by all six deities of Ischuros, including Lisma who he'd first met.
There was Osk, the water god who also reigned over magic and mischief, Shora, the goddess of sanity, sophistry, and wealth, Gehain, god of fertilization, farming, and physical strength, Rygald, god of spirits and undead, and the aforementioned Horchal. Lisma was a goddess of luck, wisdom, and war. With their guidance, Urmu had quickly risen through noble society and no longer had any need to even visit the academy he once considered a second home.
After the lecture hall was packed and overflowing, an aged figure stepped onto the stage, hobbling slowly. It was Arakiba, the former headmaster, current master of ceremonies, who had been severely beaten by Azazel over the course of these months; hence his unsteady gait. After stepping to the front of the lecture hall's stage, Arakiba cleared his throat before barking, "Silence! Our honored speaker will soon arrive. Be orderly by the time he does." A hush fell over the hall at this harsh declaration, anticipation hanging in the energetic atmosphere.
"Good." Arakiba nodded apathetically, "please welcome the esteemed god of fire, Horchal!" He announced dramatically with a wave of the arm, gesturing to one side of the stage. When he finished a spout of fire flared up on the stage, revealing a tall figure with a bushy, red beard as it vanished. He stood proudly, head held high in disdain of the very ground he stands on. He walked stiffly to the center of the stage, standing directly in front of Arakiba rather than beside him.
"Today, students, will be the most gratifying experience of your short lives." Horchal waved at Arakiba dismissively, who exited backstage scowling, as the fire god began his patronizing yet ultimately insubstantial and disappointing lecture that mostly centered around the greatness of the god of fire, pain, and rage, and why he should be head of the pantheon instead of Osk.
"Bastards, even daring to presume godhood...Don't they know to whom they speak?" Arakiba complained sourly. He wasn't just thinking about himself and the other fallen stars, among whom only Azazel received any respect by these gods. He also spoke of the humans in attendance, though he often loathed to think of it. Before the downfall of Vinetum, spirits such as these gods would've had to serve these humans with utmost fear and respect, when the planet reached a full state. The day of Vinetum's fall was meant to be the day of its emergence into the wider universe, which the Demon King knew and used to hurt Triac all the more with his conquest of it.
A squeaky chuckle sounded out from by Arakiba's feet. Looking below, Arakiba squealed, "Spider!" and tried to step on the arachnoid thing in the floor.
Scurrying away, the fleshy spider-thing that was part of Armaros screamed, "Arakiba, you know it's me you asshole!" Armaros jumped onto Arakiba's leg, crawling onto his shoulder. "You're a real son of a bitch," he pouted.
Arakiba chuckled sadistically. He had indeed known it was Armaros, and even if he crushed him, the creature would just reform. "What do you want?" He slid his pupils sideways to look at the bug on his shoulder.
"Oh, not much in particular. I was just thinking of something." Armaros baited in a sly tone.
Arakiba growled and threateningly held his fingers over Armaros in preparation to flick. "Don't toy with me, bug. You had to separate from your amalgamated form to come here, it's no casual stroll. Why are you here?"
"Alright, alright!" Armaros squeaked. "I have a plan to knock this sextet down a peg. We just have to pretend to be enthralled by their glory for a bit."
Arakiba shot a glance at the strutting Horchal, and smirked. "Well that part won't be hard to pull over on them. I'm listening, Armaros."
The spidery bit of flesh crawled close to Arakiba's ear as it whispered, "We will choreograph them into a dance of pride that will invoke the denial of probability, and provoke the Most High into action."
Arakiba's eyes widened in astonishment as he wheezed, "You said knock them down a peg? He may utterly destroy them!"
"Is that a problem?" Armaros playfully cracked.
Arakiba smiled bemusedly, "no, no it sounds nice, actually." He began to laugh hysterically, and clamped his hand down to silence himself. His laugh happened to ring out just when Horchal had dared anyone to laugh at his prowess, while demonstrating a tornado of flame spinning upon his palm.
This poor timing caused a few other students to chuckle, and the god of flame, pain, and rage bore an expression of humiliation and fury. "Who laughed?!" He bellowed.
"Ah, that would be me." Arakiba called out with false shyness, raising a finger from backstage. Horchal's furious expression froze onto his face, unable to abuse the transgressor, nor dispute against him. Who could say they had greater mastery over flame than a star, even a fallen one?
Students left the lecture hall feeling that though they hadn't gained any knowledge, they had learned their teachers held sway even over gods. It was a useful lesson in contrast to Horchal's boasting. The Armazel Academy in that way bolstered the loyalty of its student body without even trying.
Armaros' arachnoid fragment scurried back to its shredded main body, leaving Arakiba to propose the plan to Azazel. They had to gain his permission, or they couldn't even start to act on it, in accordance with their binding. Arakiba climbed to the top of the tower that was their headquarters slowly, unable to control the trembling in his legs. He was recalling all the various times he'd come to Azazel with this or that bit of news, or stood in a meeting with him, and been severely beaten without warning. These fits of rage could burst out of Azazel at any time, and it terrified Arakiba only slightly less than the natural authority the King of Fallen held over him.
Finally, he arrived at the door to the room that had once been the council chamber. Arakiba tentatively knocked, and the doors creaked open at his touch. Arakiba shivered. This meant Azazel was already expecting him. He entered into the room that had been extensively overhauled, from a dark and drab room full of chairs and a table, into a bright and ornate throne room worthy of an emperor. At the center, in a throne carved from black onyx, sat Azazel wearing a silver circlet.
"Arakiba." Azazel spoke in a serious and regal tone, "You have a suggestion?"
Arakiba smiled nervously as he approached, before kneeling. "It is as you surmised, Your Majesty." Azazel had instructed his subordinates and those of the Armazel Academy to address him as 'your majesty' instead of 'my king' in order to avoid Gel-ad's suspicion. This phrase hadn't ever before been associated with any sort of position, so it just sounded like effusive praise. "I have come up with an idea that-"
Azazel's palm suddenly came from nowhere to strike Arakiba harshly on the cheek. "You have?" Azazel glared at Arakiba in suspicion.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Arakiba let out traumatized screams, holding his hands over his head. "It wasn't me. But still, It is a good plan, one you should hear."
"I know. You wouldn't still be talking otherwise." Azazel spoke coldly. He no longer had any patience for these former brethren who had deceived and betrayed him.
Arakiba shakily continued to lay out the plan as Azazel nodded along while listening. Finally concluding, Arakiba looked up at Azazel is desperation for reprieve and approval.
Azazel tapped his chin with his finger. "I do like dragging down these so-called gods. Using the Most High though... it's risky. When He comes, we'd need a big gesture to demonstrate to him we're not on their side." Arakiba merely nodded in passive agreement, contributing nothing.
Azazel sighed, "For all your scheming against me, you're useless for me now? Fine. I already have a measure in mind. It will be in my hands, that's all you need know. I give my approval. Now leave!"
Arakiba leapt up and darted out of the room, sighing in relief as the doors closed behind him. Azazel put his brow in his palms, groaning, "Why must I be cursed with such subordinates?" He bemoaned his fate, forgetting how pleased he was things had turned out this way at the start. "In the end, I must take care of the important things myself." Azazel raised his head, determination in his gaze.