(General P.O.V) (A few minutes earlier)

The steps were light. Not at all hurried or heavy. A blonde man dressed in a green shirt, jeans and boots stopped infront of a shield of green energy, pulsing with power. His smile stretched out into an arrogant smirk as his eyes speared through the last ditch effort at protection the Shaman had employed.

The elderly Shaman was holding his cane tightly as he made eye contact with the Stranger…no. Not a stranger. The man was none other than the outsider that had arrived in the village a week before! The Shaman's eyes widened in unmitigated surprise.

"You?"

He asked the man.

Guy Lisbon's smile widened some more.

"Me." He stated, running his eyes along the bubble shield that extended to cover the whole village. Vines crept up along it's surface, strengthening it even further. Lisbon sighed.

"Is this how you treat your guests? To be honest, I am feeling very unwelcomed."

The Archaeologist said, slowly walking around.

The older Shaman swallowed his fear and stepped up.

"I know what you are. A demon from the lowest pits of hell." The Shaman spit to the ground in disgust. "Touch the shield and you will feel the full wrath of nature strike back. No one…not even you can survive that."

Lisbon raised his hands, pulling back. He laughed uneasily.

"Trust me Old Chap, I am not that stupid to not heed your warnings." He sincerely said. His voice took on a sudden change.

"So why not cut this game of cat and mouse and just pull down the Shield? I promise you no harm will come to you and your people. I just need to access the hub real quick and then I'll be out of your hair. Mmmh? What do you say?"

Lisbon offered.

The Shaman looked behind him. He could see the faces of the gathered Villagers staring at him in hope. He was their only source of strength right now. Something he couldn't be…The Shaman felt his heart break as he chose duty above family. Above clan. Above his own blood. Some of the older villagers understood his dillema and offered him looks of determination. It was a silent confirmation. One that he needed more than they knew. It was then decided. They weren't backing down even if it meant forfeiting their lives.

"Bite Me." The Old Shaman said testily. Lisbon's eyes widened at being caught off guard by the answer. A laugh escaped his mouth. The archaeologist laughed for a few more seconds before rising up while wiping away tears from the corner of his eyes.

"Bloody hell. That was very funny. That…that was something Old Chap." He straightened up, clearing his throat.

"Tell me something… you're the anchor holding this shield together, right?"

The Shaman refused to reply. He could only hope that the young warrior would be back to save them all before the Demon breached the protective dome.

"Your silence is answer enough." Lisbon smirked. A bad feeling started blooming inside The Shaman's heart. 'Where are you?' he wondered in his head.

"And so I'm thinking that if I take you down…then the Shield will naturally come down. There are no other guardians of the green among you." Lisbon Stated before adding, "I made sure of that."

The Shaman felt his heart break again as the hope he harboured that maybe his brother and nephew were alive got shattered. He forced himself to put on a strong front.

"You'll pay for that Demon. That much I assure you."

The Shaman bit out in gritted teeth. The demon rolled his eyes,

"Oh please how many threats do you think I've heard over the millenia? Now where was I? Oh yes. If I were to…" Lisbon flicked a hand.

The Shaman felt a sudden sensation of heat followed by mind numbing pain assault his chest. He looked down and saw a spearhead sticking out of his chest. He couldn't believe it. What…what had just happened? He craned his neck behind him and saw the spear that had dealt him a mortal wound, held by one of the villagers, an old friend of his. His eyes…infact all of their eyes were unfocused…

The Green Shield shimmered before breaking apart into green motes of light. The Shaman couldn't maintain the energy. Without an anchor all the energy fell apart. The Shaman lost control of his motor functions and fell to his knees, his hands grasped the spear. Blood escaped his mouth. If he could only remove the weapon…he could use the green to try and heal himself. There was a chance that it would turn him into something other than human but…

"Nah-uh. None of that, now…just close your eyes and fucking die okay?"

The soft but sinister voice of the demon sounded, stepping closer to him.

"You…" The Shaman wheezed out, giving the demon the most hateful glare he could muster. The Demon rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Me. I took control of the minds of your people, none of them are naturally protected from telepathic intrusion by the green like you after all." The Demon crouched before him and sighed.

"I warned you, this was how it would turn out." He patted the injured man on his shoulders, further causing more pain. It was a proof of the old man's resilient life force that he hadn't died yet. Blood was pouring out of his wound like a broken faucet.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"I feel like giving you something before you die though." Lisbon clapped his hands and jumped to his feet in a dramatic fashion.

"I know! I'll tell you how I accomplished all of this."

He said in excitement before turning back to address the slowly dying man. The Shaman knew he had to do something and luckily it looked like the Demon was pre-occupied. The aged Shaman reached into the earth, touching the ground with a bloodied hand. He was sending a desperate plea. A plea to the real champion of the green.

'PLEASE!'

"You see, demons come in many variations. You humans don't really know the difference. Can't blame you," he shrugged, "though I'm very insulted that you confused a demon lord of my standing with your run of the mill Lilims." His black eyes turned more menacing as a cruel glint appeared on them. The Shaman felt a palm land on his shoulder and squeeze. His clavicle cracked and the pain he felt was hellish, though it was nothing compared to the spear through his chest.

He groaned and tried to look up, establishing eye contact with his torturer.

"That's for your earlier disrespect and in case you haven't figured it out... I'm the one keeping you alive. I like keeping things simple. So although you're in my presence...none of that bowing crap. Call me Mammon." A cold shiver run down the aged man's spine. That name...

"About keeping you alive, I can't have you dying on me before I tell you how I carried out my plans now can I? You see, I need an unbiased opinion." He chuckled waving his hand at the other villagers. " And There's a short of that currently. And I know, I know... Monologuing is bad taste. I'm wasting precious time when I could be getting this over with. But this is needed..."

The Shaman could feel himself slipping away only to be jerked back to reality every once in a while by Mammon.

He never stopped calling for help. And in one instance, he felt something answer him. Something that felt massive. Something that had the same energy signature as the power running through generations of Shamans.

' LEND...STRENGTH.'

A slap pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, Old chap. I can't keep on doing this... asking you to pay attention. If you drift off again into that little noggin if yours, I'll start killing people." The statement was said in a way that showed he wasn't lying. Mammon straightened up, clearing his throat in the process.

"So there I was, chilling in my palace down under. Some bloke comes in and says...Luci's gone. The big bad himself, mate. So everybody's like...time to take over the kingdom now that the king as abondoned his castle. I laughed at their stupidity. The throne of hell has a huge spotlight being shown over it. Everybody's clamoring to have a piece of it but they don't realize just how high profile and dangerous to their health it is."

Mammon suddenly went silent while looking off into one direction. Had Aden been there, he would have felt the telepathic fluctuations coming off the demon in waves. He was an even much stronger telepath than Miss Martian "Well hello, there. I can't have you interfering so of to Dreamland with you bunch." A shockwave blasted out through the mental realm and Miss Martian quickly marshalled all her skills and power to keep her teammates and her from being turned into vegetables. The most she could do was block the worst of it, which still led to everybody in the link being rendered unconscious.

A second later, a light appeared in the sky, roiling uncontrollably in the air before it slammed into the ground, creating a groove under it. The bio-ship had not been spared either. "Mmmh, interesting." Mammon, said parsing through the memories of the junior squad, casually. The mental walls put up by Miss Martian were nothing infront of his millenia of skill. He turned his attention to The Shaman. A large pool of blood was already under him and the old man felt cold. Darkness was creeping on the edge of his vision. He felt something pull him back from death.

"Anyway, with no... supervision, I went off on a completely different direction. Why contest for a realm with so many greedy bastards, when I could take the opportunity and create my very own Kingdom? Luckily, I had foreseen this and ensured a countermeasure for when I got the chance to escape. You see, this body comes from a long line of half breeds. Suitable for possession with no chances of rejection. It truly feels like home. You can thank Solomon for that by the way...Bastard thought he could shackle me like he did the others forever but...millenia ago, I hatched this plan. And now the world is going to be mine."

Mammon laughed cheerfully before continuing with his explanation,

"I whispered words of hope to Lisbon on how to get his malady treated. He couldn't understand that the changes his body was showing, was just his blood reacting to his hidden heritage. So he came here at my behest. Seizing control of a second rate demon like Mnemoth was child's play. I simply pointed him to your village, promising an all you could eat buffet. Lisbon under my guidance led your village warriors and shamans to me, where I had set a trap. Fast forward to me taking their souls and turning them into undead that follow my every command...I knew I had to thin out the herd some more. So I reached out to your nephew, stoking his ego, hate and impatience, both to deliver a fresh meal to my underling for all the work he'd put in and to subtly steal another Shaman from you...you might not be powerful individually but having Nature act as your battery is bloody annoying. I've fought bastards like you before. The rest is history."

A brief silence dominated the area. 'Now what?'

The old man wondered.

'TAKE REST.'

Suddenly he felt the ground rumble, a surge of vines, stronger than any he could create, broke through the earth, forming into the shape of a huge hulking humanoid figure. The champion...The Shaman realized, hope blooming inside him.

Mammon cocked his head to the side with an easy smile on his face.

"Well well well. I was thinking you wouldn't show up, Champion of The Green."

That's when the Shaman realized...it had all been a plan to stall until Swamp Thing arrived.