Chereads / Hell Training As A Default Skullhound / Chapter 4 - Love And War

Chapter 4 - Love And War

The former throne and palace of Gunjo, once a regal testament to the overwhelming power of the Demon King, now stood teetering on the brink of devastation. Majestic obsidian spires, which once pierced the sulfuric skies of Hell with imposing intent, were now vulnerable under the threat of rebel force and greed. The palace itself, a labyrinth of bone and brimstone architecture, echoed the wrath of the insurgent factions as they tore through its hallowed halls.

Chaos reigned supreme; battalions of traitorous demons wielded dark magic that lashed out like jagged whips, and dark weapons that gleamed with a cold, hungry light. Whirling vortices of shadow and flame ripped through the air, commanded by insurgents hungry to usurp power or sabotage the Demonic Order, depending on where allegiances lay that day.

"We are sending them a message!"

"Burn it down! Burn the whole damn thing down!"

"If one falls, they all fall!"

"Fate has answered us! One member is powerless, they all shall become like him! Gunjo!"

"Kill the harbingers who dare stop us and take the glory for themselves!"

Fights broke out in every chamber and corridor, each demon turning on another in a frenzied dance of destruction and desire. The air crackled and sizzled with malignant energies as spells collided, illuminating the macabre melee in bursts of eldritch light.

Amidst the cacophony of clashing wills and flesh, a figure of singular purpose emerged. Sevyn, her hair ablaze with a conflagration that belied her determined calm, moved with lethal grace and deliberate swiftness. The fires that crowned her head mirrored the untamed ferocity of her resolve.

She said to herself, "Find the veil. Leave. My objectives."

"Hey! That's Sevyn!"

"No shit!"

"Gunjo's wife! Kill her too!"

Sevyn dashed forward, fingers elongated into merciless blades that sang through the air, severing limbs and piercing demonic hearts with deadly precision. Each movement was a choreographed symphony of violence and mastery, as she cleaved her way through the sea of treachery.

The rebels recoiled and regrouped, unleashing their depravity upon her, but to no avail. She was an inferno incarnate, untouchable amidst their feeble attempts to halt her advance.

Her body twisted and contorted, weaving between the tendrils of dark magic sent to impede her. She bent reality to her will, leaving trails of cinders and ash where her feet touched the ground, as if the earth itself was surrendering to her intensity.

Flaming punches erupted from her fists, each one landing with the force of a falling star, sending demonic entities hurling into the walls with enough force to shatter the stone.

The battle was a tempest, and she was the eye; calm, collected, yet devastating. Her kicks summoned firestorms, the hellfire wrapping around her limbs, extending her reach, consuming her foes with a vengeful hunger.

Through the pandemonium, Sevyn carved her path to the heart of the palace—the treasury. It was there, amongst the hoards of pilfered souls and plundered riches, that she would confront the orchestrator of this madness, or so she believed.

At last, she stood before the entrance, the gilded doors torn asunder, revealing the wealth of eons laid bare for the taking. The clamor of battle seemed to mute, as if the reverence of this sacred vault demanded silence.

Descending the spiral staircase, the temperature dropped, yet her fiery halo only shone brighter in the darkness. She emerged into the expansive chamber, her resolve glowing hotter than the molten gold that lined the walls.

Inspecting the treasury, she found no plunderers, no defiant thieves, until a familiar voice reverberated through the stone, chilling despite the surrounding flames.

"Haha, Sevyn, it's good to see you again." He smiled.

She turned to find a human-looking man, the visage of deceptive normalcy amidst chaos. His black wavy hair framed a pair of deep red eyes and flushed cheeks, and his suit, sharp and out of place, contrasted the surrounding pandemonium.

Standing amidst the plunder of ages, flanked by the spoils of the demon kingdom, he watched her with a triumphant smirk. His presence was an enigma wrapped in the vestments of a civilization that had no dominion here.

Sevyn faced the human figure, her flames a roaring declaration of defiance.

The man, Arlan, raised a hand almost languidly as Sevyn unleashed her fury, and a black barrier shimmered to life around him. Her flaming strikes landed against an unyielding force, each attempt to breach it as futile as a whisper in a storm. With each contact, ripples of dark light pulsed across the surface, absorbing the impact with an eerie calm.

"Love, Sevyn," Arlan began, his voice resonating through the vaulted chamber as if carried by unseen winds, "is not merely an emotion or a fleeting feeling. It is a profound ideology, a principle that shapes the very fabric of our existence."

Sevyn, relentless, launched another flurry of punches, her sharp fingers striking with the speed of falling meteors. The barrier held strong, and Arlan watched her with an unwavering gaze.

"True love transcends the physical plane; it is the unconditional acceptance, the willing sacrifice of one's self for the growth and happiness of another." The air around him hummed with dark energy, but his expression remained serene.

Her fiery hair danced wildly as she assailed the barrier with a barrage of kicks, her form a fiery silhouette against the backdrop of the treasury's riches. Each motion spoke of her relentless will, even as Arlan's shield absorbed her rage without so much as a flicker.

Arlan's eyes, the color of blood spilled in the faint light of dusk, held a certain tranquility. "Love is the understanding that the essence of our connected spirits endures, even in the darkest of times."

"And yet," he continued, unfazed as another explosive strike from Sevyn sent a wave of heat cascading off the barrier, "love also demands the wisdom to acknowledge that some bonds are forged from more than sentiment."

Sevyn, a tempest of motion, paused briefly to catch her breath, eyes focused intently on the man enshrouded in protective energies. She was unyielding, unbroken, but even she could not ignore the battle of ideologies unfolding before her.

"Your Gunjo, once a formidable King, now finds himself reduced to nothing more than an ant in the grand scheme of things," Arlan commented, his tone devoid of mockery, simply stating a fact. "Empires rise and fall; even demon kings are not exempt from this immutable law of the cosmos."

Sevyn lunged again, her silhouette flash-fried into the protective sphere, which glowed with a darker hue at the point of impact. Still, her efforts seemed to barely touch the reality in which Arlan stood.

"Perhaps that is love's cruelest lesson," Arlan mused. "Our power, our influence—all can be stripped away, leaving us with only the truth of who we are beneath the crown and mantle."

"I must confess," he said, as Sevyn regathered her strength for another onslaught, "my ambitions now lie in a different realm. Charrog and Tammon, the sovereigns of deception, they move pieces in a game outside the Order's view."

Sevyn's flames roared louder, a torrent of radiant incandescence, as she aimed to melt through the barrier between them with sheer determination. Arlan looked on, unmoved.

"They weave plots, believing themselves safe from the Order's gaze. But chaos is a blade that cuts both ways, and I intend to show them just how sharp it can be," Arlan declared with a cold finality, making it clear his resolve was as firm as the shield that encircled him.

Sevyn stepped back, her fire-wreathed form casting flickering shadows against piles of treasure. She took a moment to measure this man who stood before her, unscathed amidst her relentless assault.

"I am no pawn of the Order, nor do I serve their command," Arlan revealed, the black energy of his barrier pulsating gently like the heartbeat of the abyss. "Even though I was meant to be next in line before him, I refused, and the Order understood. The Demonic Order members cannot kill each other unless attacked first, so I'm being used to carry out the orders of death upon its own members. So now I'm doing what I can to gain my own power, become stronger for the sake of my ultimate goal. I was forged in hardship by Gunjo's own brutal tutelage. The pain, the struggle—it was a crucible in which my purpose was refined."

"And now," he confessed, his voice taking on a zealous edge, "I seek only the purest form of expression between two warriors: a battle to the death. Yet for such a duel to mean anything, Gunjo must regain his strength, his former might. I love the art of battle, of a good battle. You love Gunjo because of him. I love the action, I love grit, the blood that will be spilled."

Sevyn stood silent, the fire that once raged within her now simmering, contemplating Arlan's words amidst the symphony of clashing demons in the world above them.

"Deliver him this message, Sevyn," Arlan's eyes met hers with an intensity that seemed to crack the very air between them. "Tell Gunjo that Arlan still walks this realm, still breathes the sulfurous air of our forsaken land. As of right now, I could easily kill him, and if you kill me, I'll make sure he's hunted with pinpoint accuracy."

His barrier began to fade, the darkness dissipating into the air like ink in water.

"When he is ready, let him come find me," Arlan concluded, his figure starting to recede into the shadows of the treasury. "Our reckoning will be the stuff of legends, a final testament to the power we hold within."

His smile never left his face, and he said, "Oh, I almost forgot. Refuse to tell him, and you will regret it. Him and you."

Sevyn watched as the darkness where Arlan had stood became just another void among many. No trace of his being remained; even the barrier that had thwarted her was now but a memory. She remained still for a moment longer, the fires of her hair now a calm sea of embers, reflecting thoughtfully on the human man's ideology of love, his musings, and his declaration.

After finding the veil her and Gunjo needed for their camp in the cave, Sevyn's feet stepped lightly upon the shattered debris of the palace floor, her figure cutting through the smoke-laden air. The fiery tangle of her thoughts was mirrored by the chaotic dance of rebellion that roared around her.

A pair of leathery wings unfolded in front of her, a demon blocking her way with a sneer. "Where do you think you're going, flame-head?" it taunted, brandishing a serrated blade with menace.

Without breaking stride, Sevyn reached out, her hand wrapping around the hilt of the demon's weapon. With a mere flick of her wrist, the demon was flung aside, its cries lost in the cacophony of conflict. Sevyn pressed on, her thoughts returning to Arlan's revelations.

"Am I…to be the harbinger of an anticipated death match?" she murmured, the weight of destiny resting heavily on her shoulders.

'What if I'm doing the wrong thing?'

She reckoned with the notion of love interwoven with the ideology that Arlan had presented. It hung in her mind like the heavy tapestries that adorned the war-ravaged walls.

"Let's gut her and hang her colors on the gates!" another voice screeched—a spiteful earth demon erupted from the ground ahead, its claws raised high.

'If I really love Gunjo, would I tell him, or not tell him? Both sides of the story…seems to lead to Gunjo's death.'

Sevyn sidestepped gracefully, dispatching the creature with an effortless swipe of her incandescent hair, her fiery locks whipping through the air, severing the assailant's intentions along with its form. Dust settled where her enemy once stood as she continued her exit.

"These fiends want power, but lack understanding," she reflected. "Arlan seeks a chessboard, they merely see a brawl."

'Am I leading Gunjo to his own death? After failing him before…? If I fail to tell him, will that ruin him too…?'

The clash of steel and smoldering spells ceaselessly filled the air as warring factions clashed. Sevyn, the perennial warrior, found herself an island of calm in a sea of turmoil. She deflected a volley of dark energy flung from the gnarled fingers of a demon sorcerer without even glancing back.

"Mere distractions," she said quietly, her focus unnervingly steady. "Messages of hate and division, nothing like the profound connection Arlan spoke of."

'I can't tell him. I don't wanna be a failure towards him again. But I have to tell him..'

A gang of winged fiends descended upon her, their leader shouting, "Down with the so-called elite! Her blood for freedom!"

Their talons met the same fate as those before, repelled by a sudden surge of heat that emanated from Sevyn's core, her innate power bursting forth like the birth of a star—and just as quickly, she snuffed it out, leaving singed feathers to fall like a macabre snow.

Sevyn was an anomaly within the chaos, a testament to control amid unwieldy aggression.

Her enemies grew more ferocious as they sensed her nearing the outskirts of the conflict zone. One brutish demon, towering and scraped, hollered through the malice, "Your head will be our ticket to ascendancy, Sevyn!"

His laughter was short-lived, quelled by a piercing gaze from Sevyn that preluded the swift arc of her hand—a motion that unleashed a whip of flame. The giant fell, and as he did, so too did his imagined ascension.

Each step towards the palace gates was a step taken through the quagmire of visions and bloody ambitions. Sevyn was relentless, her body instinctively responding to each threat even as her mind wrestled with existential queries.

As she shouldered through a blast just detonating at her side, a sinewy demon with eyes like venomous orbs declared with certainty, "The new age is upon us, old guard!"

But Sevyn merely brushed away the infernal apparition as if it were no more than a bothersome gnat, her dominance clear, her purpose unwavering.

"Old guard, new age," she said to the air, "Titles are wind."

The fortress that had once been a symbol of demonic prowess now lay behind her, the grand entrance gaping like a wounded giant. With each impasse she overcame, her silhouette seemed to weave through the tumult as a specter gracefully choreographed by destiny's unseen hand.

As the palace's looming shadow receded, Sevyn vanished into the mercurial embrace of the lands beyond. The promise of a battle born out of twisted love and fateful encounters was now her burden to bear, a beacon amidst the warring cacophony, leading her to Gunjo, and to the clash that would define them both.

'What if I fail again..?'