***The Infernal Planes of Gluttony***

***The King of the Hill***

“Hahaha, look at them. So cute when they are playing. They are genuinely reminding me of myself in my own struggle for power...” The Lord paused, thinking. “... was it three millennia ago? Or four?” He waved his hand, admitting that his memory was failing him. “Doesn't really matter...”

“Sir-”

“Shush!” the Lord admonished his aide. “I am watching this. It has been at least fifty years since I got any fun from this competition.”

The lesser demon watched on, mourning as he bore witness to the annual festivals being turned into a mockery of their true spirit while his liege didn't give a fuck. Lord Ostreios, on the other hand, was having a genuinely good time as a bunch of nobodies messed up the proper proceedings.

First, they had riddled the battlefield with traps, when it should have been a place that tested the proper strength of the various groups. Now, it was more a place for thieves and assassins to sneak around.

Then these hooligans had dared to enter the central stage of the contest which was inconceivable to the Lord's aide. Normally, even the aide was willing to overlook a group of mere imps that had tried to profit from the easily exploitable event. Given the contest's scale, having a few groups cheat some souls out of the weaker contestants wasn't that big of a deal.

But this group's operation had long since overstepped the boundaries of mere opportunists.

The Lord pointed his finger and laughed as another explosion rocked the battlefield and a cloud of sickly, yellow gas spread out, covering groups of demons in highly poisonous chemicals of unknown origin. Those who were unfortunate enough to be enveloped by the gas started coughing, then quickly succumbed to the poison while vomiting out their guts in a particularly gruesome manner.

It wasn’t a pretty death, and the aide thought to himself that a sword through the chest would be preferable.

From their position on a floating observation platform, the Demon Lord and his aide, together with a few more of the Lord's military staff could easily overlook the cruelty of it all. Protected by their poison, the troublemakers were heading directly for the Lode Stone, the central piece of the competition.

Only the groups which were directly in their path tried to stop the newcomers – without much success due to waiting until they reached their group's position. By the time the newcomers arrived, the warband in their path had already succumbed to the pre-emptively used poison. It seemed like the newcomers were now rapidly using up their reserves in some sort of final charge.

The big problem was that all the warbands were only looking out for their own gain within the competition's rules. That meant that they only cared about holding their claimed spots which would guarantee an invitation into the Lord's legion.

This behaviour only aided the newcomers’ strategy.

The aide looked on in silent resentment, seeing his only solace in the fact that these cheaters would never get an invitation to the Lord's legion. Their unconventional tactics may allow them to carve out a one-time path to the Lode Stone, but they would never be able to hold that spot against far superior warbands without using up their stocks before the competition was over.

At last, the aide dared to hope that things would change when a new group entered the battlefield. “I think those are Ferachses' people who are following in the wake of that group. They are hunting down those unworthy hooligans!” Inwardly, the aide cheered the real demons on to kick these newcomers out of the competition.

Ostreios frowned, apparently not pleased by this development. “Now, now. Let's not overdo it with the animosity. As fas as I am concerned, those kids deserve every soul they earn. It's not their fault that those other demons are unable to utilize the knowledge of thousands of souls at their fingertips. Seeing this, I find it no wonder that none of our legions return from the annual raid intact. If they had only half as much brain as these youngsters, I wouldn't have to put up with replacing most of my warriors each year.”

The aide sniffed. “I would rather like to attribute the high losses during raids on other Infernal Planes to cut-off supply lines and landing in hostile terrain without having fortifications of our own, instead of the lacklustre intelligence of our warriors.”

“Ah, but you can't deny that the ability to respawn makes them too reckless.” The Lord chuckled and took another dried demonling tail out of the package in his hand, biting heartily into the salty snack. “That's why I set up the competition like this. Even the strongest warrior won't be able to hold a spot close to the Lode Stone if he can't act smart and ration his strength.”

Ferachses' warriors had now almost caught up to their prey, and the newcomers went wild with their poison, throwing it out left and right and even on top of themselves in an attempt to escape the inevitable end of their little escapade.

But their pursuers were relentless in their charge. The poison gas had allowed Ferachses to put two and two together, and come to the conclusion that the unfortunate little trap that had cost his warband so many souls earlier this day was the machination of these vermin.

After having encountered such an honourless trap, the older demons also took precautions and recruited some more healers and casters into their ranks. That allowed them now to charge right into the poisonous gas as healers were cleansing the warriors from the poison while mages redirected the gas with air magic. Their eyes were glinting with righteous fury at the possibility of taking their revenge.

Seeing their chance to take out a weakened competitor, other warbands in the vicinity closed in, hoping that Ferachses' group would be weakened after they had taken out the newcomers.

“Now that's it!” Ostreios commented. “Finally some action. Show me what you are up to, little ones. I know that charging in here couldn't possibly be your whole plan.” The Demon Lord of Baaar laughed and clapped his large belly in anticipation.

With his stout build, the Lord of Baaar wasn’t the most attractive demon, and some people might have called him fat, right until they realized that there was quite a lot of muscle hidden beneath the Archdemon’s physique.

The Lord kept cheering for the competitors and rooting for the underdogs who were about to be wiped out when his aide noticed that something was happening in the battlefield’s outskirts and in the city itself!

For one, thousands of demonlings had suddenly decided that now was a good time to charge the hill of all things. Like a red tide they went, flowing over the lesser demons in their endless hunger and following the poisoned path which the group of newcomers had carved through the competition. In their mindless hunger, they didn’t care that the corpses were poisoned. Either that, or what the aide found more worrying, someone had intentionally chosen the poison for the fact that it was deadly when inhaled, but relatively harmless when digested.

The other thing was the staggered detonation and the yellow cloud that was now rising above Baaar.

“My Lord.”

“Wahaha! Look at that! They aren’t dead yet!”

“My Lord!”

“What!?”

“The city!” The aide pointed, finally managing to get his Lord’s attention.

Ostreios shifted his awareness to the demonlings that were now swarming the outskirts of the battlefield, apparently carrying poisonous gas canisters of their own right into and through the ranks of competitors. The other issue was what was happening within Baaar itself.

“They have gassed the Anima Stone! Everyone who dies respawns right inside that deadly cloud! Now, that’s just unsportsmanlike!” Ostreios threw up his hands in outrage, mimicking a rampaging football fan. “I love it!”

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“You what!?” His aide wanted to throw up, while the Lord of Baaar made a little happy dance. At that moment, the weaker demon considered killing his liege but was afraid that he might fail in the attempt. Despite the Lord’s antics, the aide had seen too many times how powerful his liege was.

It was then when the yellow cloud around the Lode Stone was torn apart and a shrill, utterly insane laughter filled the air as a single demon stood above the rest, battling among his followers against Ferachses’ forces in what could only be a final stand.

In his left, he wielded a dagger that was trailing a whip of red energy in its path. The weapon curved and danced in a myriad of patterns, slicing open flesh wherever an enemy came within reach. The shining trails of light it left in its wake were like the brushes of a bloody red pencil, painting the canvas that was the battlefield’s ground in artful patterns. The whole surreal scene left the impression that no battle was fought – but a piece of art was being created.

In his right, the demon held a magical flame that drew the life itself out of his foes as it healed any accidental cuts his enemies managed to inflict. Even deadly wounds didn’t seem to stop this warrior as long as there was one body with life left within reach. And still, those who managed to keep their distance had to endure an endless assault of minor spells that spilled from the demon’s mouth like a river of insanity.

In the wake of their leader, the surviving newcomers stood their ground, their faces frightful of what was to come, but at the same time ecstatic at the endless flow of souls which the Infernum was granting them.

“Aw…” Ostreios clapped his hands together. “Too bad.”

“That demon!” The aide pointed at the leader who was insane enough to dare to challenge Ferachses himself! “He is souldrunk!”

Ostreios shook his head. “Sadly… we will have to put him down. Such a shame, but not surprising. A newly formed demon could never hold the thousands of souls that these guys must be receiving right now. I even dare to say that the insane one might hold an immortal soul… or two? No wonder that he became unhinged. And you mentioned that all of them were imps not long ago? I wonder who the insane one’s patron is. He should have taught his charge better than that. A waste.”

The Lord wagged a finger at his aide. “Always remember to show some patience when you absorb souls. Too many give you indigestion if you don’t allow yourself to get used to all those memories.”

The Demon Lord of Baaar was still lecturing when suddenly the newcomer’s dagger whipped forward. His opponent blocked with a shining greatsword, but the band of energy snaked around the blade, continuing on its path – and in the next moment Ferachses’ head rolled over the battlefield, adding to the masterpiece of death and bloodshed his opponent was creating.

Ostreios wasn't moved by the scene but admitted that the youngster had potential.

“You know...” The Lord of Baaar scratched his chin. “I like that one. Maybe I should preserve him… beat him down a peg until he comes to his senses.” He considered, then shook his head. “And maybe not. If he really holds two conflicting immortal souls, it might be more trouble than it is worth. He will try to hold onto those souls with all his might. We would need to pay some soul-sucker like a powerful succubus to extract the exact soul that is causing the problem.”

The Lord of Baaar was about to give the command for his personal elite forces to move in. He had his fun, but with a souldrunk demon running rampant he had seen enough.

In that very moment, Gluttony itself shuddered and it was as if the heavens themselves were speaking directly to Ostreios and his aide.

“Remove that one from my plane! He is trouble and I don’t want him here! There is Chaos wherever he walks.”

The aide fell to his knees, shuddering in fear and exhilaration that the Planar Lord of Gluttony himself had spoken to them.

Ostreios, on the other hand, frowned in confusion and along with the voice came the exact knowledge who Gluttony had meant. It had been centuries since the Planar Lord, a god in everything but name, gave him a task. The Demon Lord wondered why a being as powerful as a Planar Lord wouldn’t flick a finger to end the thing that offended him. Even if that would mean wiping Baaar off the map.

“How curious…” The Lord dropped his snack and drew a long, flaming sword, not daring to give the impression that he wasn’t willing to fulfil Gluttony’s will. When a Planar Lord’s attention was on a lesser being, the lesser one better did as he was told. It had been a long time ago, but Ostreios still remembered the day when Gluttony threw a tantrum within his lifetime.

“I will deal with this myself,” Ostreios announced and stepped off the observation platform, leaving his aide behind. There was such a thing as an opportunity, and Ostreios hoped to find out what it was about that demon which made a Planar Lord keep his distance and issue commands from afar.

If he could get his hands on such a power…

Ostreios didn’t spread his wings, but teleported directly in front of the young demon who had lost himself to insanity.

“Hello,” he attempted a greeting but didn’t expect any other reaction than an attack.

The Lord wasn’t disappointed, as the demon lunged directly at him, swinging his dagger like a flail while a spell flew from his lips. Shackles of light tried to restrain the Lord’s movement, but Ostreios was ready with a counterspell of his own.

He shattered the binding and blocked the whip-like energy dagger, trying hard to come up with a solution to a very pressing problem. How to subdue this youngster without killing him? That was indeed a problem since Ostreios didn’t know where the younger demon’s bind-point was.

If he simply killed him, he would likely have to scour the entire Infernal Plane for the Anima Stone that was responsible for reviving the upstart. He contemplated this problem as he blocked or deflected the insane one’s strange weapon. It was challenging and might even have been a problem if the younger demon had been fighting with the least amount of consideration.

But as it was, the younger demon was solely commanded by the instincts of the souls' memories that had overtaken his mind. This was a fight of pure, undirected force against a Demon Lord who had millennia of experience and time to hone his skills. There was no contest here.

Then it came to the Lord that a solution was nearby – if costly. But the cost wasn’t an issue when a Planar Lord had given a command.

On the next swing, Ostreios kicked the other demon hard, propelling him thirty metres backwards and into the Lode Stone. The Lord was fairly certain that his opponent wouldn’t die from such a weak attack. It was just a simple kick after all.

Just as the young demon made contact with the artefact, the Demon Lord teleported again and appeared right next to his target, a binding stone already in hand and ready for activation.

Binding stones were expensive, but an effective solution to dealing with an elusive enemy.

The Lord slapped the stone on the young demon’s chest, forcefully switching his respawn point to the Lode Stone which was a monolith of red marble at least ten metres in height and covered in runes. With the binding stone's use, it turned to dust, but the deed was accomplished.

Before the upstart could react, the Demon Lord split him in twain with his flaming sword. And then he waited, ignoring the rest of the battlefield. Some of the newcomers were still fighting for their lives, though it was a lost cause and Ostreios didn’t care. The remains of Ferachses’ warband would eventually subdue the youngsters and have their revenge.

It was a struggle far beneath one such as the Lord of Baaar.

When the youngster respawned within a circle of red light, the Lord didn’t give him any time to get his bearing and slew him right away where he stood. Again and again this happened, to some part counteracted by the fact that the youngster was still receiving new souls through his ploy.

Ostreios wondered whether he would have to slay the youngster down to his last soul in order to interrogate him, but finally, after the twelfth or thirteenth death, the younger demon finally raised his hands in surrender.

“No more! No more violence!”

The Lord stopped his blade but didn’t lower it. “Are you back to your senses?”

In return, the youngster only showed confusion on his face. “What happened? Who are you.”

“I am Ostreios! The Demon Lord of Baaar.” He pointed his sword at the younger demon’s throat. “And you are in trouble. You have two choices, to perish here, or to join my legion. But first, you are going to tell me who you are and why a Planar Lord paid attention to you.”

The youngster blinked, clearly confused and unable to comprehend what was going on. His eyes fell on the Lode Stone and returned to the Demon Lord. “I don’t like either of those choices!”

He pulled a stick out of a dimensional bag at his side and smacked the Lode Stone with it several times, causing insignificant discharges of magical energies until the stick broke.

Ostreios frowned but didn’t do anything since the attack wasn’t aimed at him. “Are you still souldrunk? Do I have to kill you a few more times to get you back to your senses?”

Then there was an audible ‘crack’, and a fine line appeared in the Lode Stone’s red surface.

Ostreios froze. Never in all his life had he seen one of the Anima Stones or a Lode Stone damaged. They were artefacts which were provided by the Planar Lords and to his knowledge indestructible.

And then the crack spread and the Lode Stone dissolved in a pillar of light. The light shot to the heavens and the violet sky split, opening a rift that twisted and swirled at the edges. On the other side of the rift, the ground of a lush plane could be seen, teeming with life. It was an inverse version of the dead wastes of Gluttony, a hole in the multiverse that led directly to another plane.

The Lord shrieked, “What did you do!?”

The young demon frowned and looked at his broken stick. “It wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“What was it supposed to do!?” Ostreios demanded, unable to express his mirth as a powerful suction that was coming from the rift tried to pull him upward. Hadn’t Gluttony warned him that this demon was trouble?

While the Demon Lord was able to anchor himself in place thanks to his magic, the younger demon was pulled upwards, a mere doll who was thrown around by the forces which he had meddled with. The last Ostreios got to hear of the meddler and many of the combatants who were pulled up into the rift alongside large parts of his city was an agonized scream which quickly diminished with the increasing distance.

“It was suppooosed to bloww…”