Despite Genesis' myriad blasphemies and audacities, Ninkalammu seemed...intrigued by his defiance. As if sizing up a curiosity she hadn't quite figured out how to solve.
"Our time grows short," she purred at last, each syllable filled with seduction. "My Calamity is already rising to swallow the mansion and its unlucky habitats."
That unsettling smile blossomed once more, seeming to hint at unuttered amusements known only to her sentience. "Do take exquisite care with your new...abyssal gift, my sweet Genesis. And try ever so hard not to disappoint me overmuch."
Despite the edges of blatant superiority fraying her words, there was an undeniable undercurrent of banked intensity as well.
As if she relished the prospect of seeing how this particular human might perform.
Genesis inclined his head in a bow, every aspect of his demeanor suddenly radiating solemn humility.
Still, the idea of bidding final farewell without sating his curiosity felt like anathema.
"Before you depart, if I may..." His newly remade tongue flicked out to moisten those seamless lips. "There is one final question burning my mind."
Ninkalammu arched one elegant brow in a silent prompt to continue.
"How many others have you...anointed with these abyssal gifts'?" he pressed, unable to mask the hunger blazing behind his eyes. "Here, within this mansion's halls?"
The silence stretched out for an eternal half-second heartbeat, then two.
Until at last, the demoness threw back her head with a peal of rich, indulgent laughter that seemed to reverberate from the chamber's very bones.
"Always seeking to slake that insatiable thirst, aren't you?" She leveled a look of what might have passed for wry approval. "Very well, my incorrigible little blasphemer, I shall indulge your final quandary. Only because you provided such an appetizing evening's entertainment..."
"Including yourself, there are precisely five bearers of my Abyssal 'Gifts' roaming mansion." One clawed fingertip raised to tap against her pursed lips.
"As to their identities...well, I'll leave unraveling that delicious little mystery as an exercise for you, my sweet Genesis."
The demoness pivoted abruptly, her raven's wings unfurling in a single sweeping arc as she raised her voice in a dissonant crescendo that nearly shattered Genesis' equilibrium.
"THE CULLING GAMES HAVE BEGUN!"
With clockwork precision and harrowing ceremonial pomp, the 4 demon servants of The Lady arranged themselves in an exacting formation around their mistress.
As one, they extended their arms in a series of sweeping, geometric gestures - seeming to quite literally claw and pry open the fabric of existence itself.
A portal gate of swirling, polydimensional abyss widened into reality before them, its eldritch geometries defying mortal logic.
Ninkalammu cast one final glance over one inscrutably regal shoulder, fixing Genesis' in her ruby stare as her lips curved into a profane, lingering smile of utter sapience.
Then, with a departing nod that bordered on...respect?
She turned and strode through the shrieking, rift in all realities - her paramount demons following attentively.
Genesis, offering the barest hint of a bow, pressed one hand against the fevered skin of his abdomen.
"See you soon..." The cadence rumbled out, barely above a conspiratorial rasp. "...Little bitch."
He sank into the wingback chair, legs splayed wide, elbows digging into the cracked leather armrests as he hunched forward. A ringer for Rodin's Thinker if the sculptor had been drunk on absinthe when he'd carved it.
Genesis's gaze roamed the peeling wallpaper, the dull warp of wood paneling. His lips parted. "Time to assess the situation."
He tallied on his fingers. "30 souls within these walls. Minus the 4 maids. Then Cain and Abel. The mansion keeper, Maximilian, a doughy blank of a man."
Genesis smacked his palms together, lips pulling taut over crooked teeth. "Leaves 18 tourists, 7 staff and 5 with Abyssal gifts.
Myself included."
His head tilted as he studied a buckling ceiling beam. "18 doomed to death. Culling Games and all." He gave a low, rumbling chuckle. "Maybe more than that in the end. One of us gifted lot could kick it too."
Slivers of memory sparked behind his eyes - leatherbound books with embossed, snarling demons on the covers. "Grimoires never covered this Abyssal gift bullshit. Not a word on the Ninkalammu dame's handouts."
Spittle flew from his lips. "Lucifer though - He's the key.
Given the origin of these powers, they should be relatively apparent. The Prince of Darkness, the Father of Lies, as he's known, is renowned for his persuasive abilities. He's a master of rhetoric, as evidenced by his successful temptation of Eve into eating the forbidden fruit.
In Nomine Diablo, The Devil's Tongue, that is my Abyssal Gift."
He waggled a finger. "Satan, the Prince of Darkness, is also associated with shadow manipulation and the creation of illusions.
He's the ultimate deceiver.
No one can outwit the great trickster, so there must be an ability among us capable of unveiling illusions and lies as well."
His ginger wavy hair fell over his eyes as he leaned back, boots leaving prints on the chair's faded upholstery. "You know what's funny?
Ninkalammu, a demon, bestowed these gifts upon humans rather than upon demons or Nephilim.
It's clear that she doesn't hold a fondness for humanity.
If anything, we're mere vermin, filth, and slaves in her eyes."
A wheezy laugh. "This leads me to the theory that these Abyssal gifts are only usable by humans.
They seem to be a blend of purity and malevolence, much like Lucifer himself when he was cast down from Heaven, once the brightest and most beautiful angel.
Demons are impure, while Nephilims are 75% impure and 25% due to being half human and half fallen angel.
So, in order to use these Abyssal Gifts you must be 50% 50% like old Lucy."
Genesis pushed himself up with a grunt, straightening the lapels of his crimson suit coat. "But I know the game now. The old me would've played by the rules." He swiped a hand through his hair. "But Dad's little choir boy is long dead. I aim to disappoint."
As he reached for the doorknob, a gurgling scream pierced the mansion's musty silence, shrill and agonized.
"Game on."