A'lheran swirled the delicate crystal glass with a light, circular motion, allowing the wine to come into contact with the oxygen and release more aromas. He sniffed and recognized the fragrance of licorice, cinnamon, and black pepper. Then, he glanced at the seductive human woman in front of him and let the red wine flow across his palate. In his mouth, it felt fresh, with a long finish and balsamic notes. It was undoubtedly a pleasure for both his human and demonic sides.
"Exquisite, don't you think?" A'lheran asked.
"Yes, you can tell it's good," replied the sensual woman with dark hair and light brown eyes. She was dressed in tight black lingerie and a sheer red robe. Much of her body had been surgically enhanced.
The question hadn't been directed at her but at himself, or, more precisely, at his human side, Michael, the engineer. A'lheran couldn't recall, nor did he know, how many years had passed since the last time he had tasted wine. He also didn’t remember which wine it was. Although he hadn't used all the energy accumulated from sacrifices, far more years had likely passed than he believed, because he felt a part of his personality, of his being, was missing. He sensed a void that could only be filled with the souls of the bodies he possessed. How many of those souls had he lost during the Soul Crystallization?
The speech he had given in that room before what the human had called a Cyberboard had been a mix of Michael's knowledge and an echo of the feelings he had experienced from what he believed was his penultimate possessed body. But it had only been thanks to his loyal Vulfrack that he had been able to orient himself in the timeline. Then, the absorption of a few souls had given his deteriorated soul a boost, and he remembered the defeat of the demons by the mortals.
That day, he had felt pain, sadness, humiliation, and frustration, not just for himself but also for the loss of his father, or rather the father of them all, Abyssoth, the God of Demons. But those weren't the only feelings. Part of him had felt greed, desire, and excitement at the thought of becoming the next Original Demon of Pleasure, though he had never known if that was truly possible. He had learned all those feelings thanks to the many bodies he had possessed along the bloody and cunning path that led him to become a Demon Prince.
Although almost all memories of those days had faded, fragments of his past remained. The soul of the first body he had possessed thousands of years ago was still anchored there, as were many of the following bodies he had taken. While not all of them followed a continuous timeline, the majority had belonged to races that knew aristocracy and a taste for wine, which explained his continued passion for it. After all, the essence that defined each demon was largely a reflection of all the mortals they had possessed.
"As if you could tell a good wine, darling," A'lheran said, unable to suppress his mockery. A plebeian like her, pretending to be an aristocrat, could never appreciate the true flavor. Aside from her sensual body, he found it almost insulting to speak with someone so uneducated, but he knew she had been an easy prey, so he had played along with her at that high-end restaurant. Some things never changed, and a woman's desire for a rich, powerful man was one of them.
"You're such an idiot, of course I can tell a good wine," she muttered after averting her gaze, then took a sip from the glass as if to reaffirm her words.
A'lheran smiled, stood up from the armchair, and took a few steps across the carpeted floor until he stood in front of the chair where his companion sat. He bent down slightly and gently stroked her face and straight hair.
"Come on, gorgeous, I'm going to show you heaven," he whispered in her ear.
The woman parted her lips slightly and then smiled mischievously, imagining what awaited her. The first time they had done it, A'lheran, both saddened and amused because his human side had never had the pleasure of being with a woman as stunning as her, had let Michael take control of his new body. The human, filled with divine vigor and uncontrollable sexual desire, had ravaged her for almost an hour. According to his prey, she had never experienced so many orgasms before.
A'lheran intertwined his fingers with hers and pulled her toward the bed. Both smiled mischievously.
"Lie down," he said softly.
She obeyed and lay down on the wide bed in the hotel room.
"Do you like to play?" he asked with a playful smile, showing some fine ropes the same color as the robe she was wearing.
The woman licked her lips and then gently bit them before nodding slightly.
A'lheran placed a blindfold over her eyes and kissed her neck slowly. She shivered repeatedly as she felt his caresses shifting in direction, until she found herself tied up, arms and legs spread wide.
"Damn, I'm so wet," she said, but A'lheran didn't need her words to know how excited she was.
He loved sadomasochism, and just the thought of whipping and dominating her like the bitch she was made him rock-hard. In fact, sex was almost a basic necessity for demons with a lust core. However, he felt a hunger, an even stronger need than sexual appetite, taking over him.
Demons needed to nourish themselves with souls to survive and, almost as importantly, to climb the ranks of their race. The more souls they consumed, especially powerful ones, the stronger they became.
There were several ways to do this. One was to take over a mortal's body until the soul was completely consumed. This was the most traditional method and, in a way, the most pleasurable, as it allowed demons to enjoy the physical pleasures of having a body. But it also influenced their own uniqueness. Another way was what mortals used to call sacrifices. This method was the most euphoric and the fastest way to feed, as it involved directly absorbing the victim's soul. The best part was that it allowed demons to remain longer in the mortal body they had possessed, as some demons became so attached to the bodies, they took that they essentially became them.
In Michael's case, A'lheran had taken him because he was the most appealing of those available to be devoured like lambs. More importantly, after being imprisoned for so long, his spiritual side urgently needed a body to avoid fading away. Initially, A'lheran had intended to use the human engineer's body until he found one that suited his tastes and personality better. However, once he possessed it, he realized that Michael had more qualities similar to the bodies he had taken in the past than he had initially thought, or rather, remembered. He felt a resonance with Michael, evoking the shadow of someone whose qualities he had absorbed before, but he couldn't identify the specific quality or the body it had belonged to. It was like a missing piece of his personal puzzle, familiar but unreachable.
Among all these qualities were his intelligence, his insatiable sexual appetite, his taste for wine (though the poor fool had never had the chance to try a truly good wine), and his passion for knowledge. Plus, with his slightly trimmed sides, the long curls covering part of his right face, and his elegant clothing, he even resembled a human nobleman A'lheran had once possessed. Oh, how he had enjoyed that body!
A'lheran glanced again at the woman eagerly awaiting his touch and smiled. Sacrificing a woman didn't bring him as much pleasure as playing with her for hours, but he still enjoyed watching her suffer.
He took a small knife and made a deep cut in the palm of his left hand. Blood began to flow, and he dipped his index and middle fingers of the other hand into it. Then, he approached his companion and drew on her stomach the magical symbol that most mortals called satanic or demonic. Upon taking over Michael's body, he had discovered that many mortals imitated that symbol in their movies or comics. In those, they usually drew them with the blood of sacrifices, making them overly large. However, reality was different. The anagrams were often small because they had to be drawn on the victim's body, written with both the victim's blood and the demon's own blood to link the extracted soul with themselves. While it was true that the anagram could be drawn on different victims to absorb multiple souls at once, this could backfire if the demon in question wasn't strong enough. And A'lheran was still too weak to absorb more than two souls at once.
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The woman shuddered at the soft touch of his human fingers, and the thick liquid spreading across her skin. A'lheran placed a leather gag with a ball in her mouth to prevent her from speaking, which aroused her even more. The demon lowered himself gently, continuing to caress her, this time transforming one of his human nails into a demonic one. He pressed it against her and made a small cut. She squirmed and let out a muted moan. He kissed her and moved the blood flowing across the same area where he had drawn the ritual symbol. The blood didn’t need to cover the entire symbol, just a mix of both their bloods would suffice. But he liked to play. So, he moved his bloodstained finger across the entire symbol.
A'lheran stepped back and began reciting words in a language his human side didn't know. The symbol emitted a flash, and the woman squirmed in the bed as if reacting to a pleasurable sensation, but a few seconds later, her movements became violent as pain unexpectedly overtook her. She writhed for several seconds before her body lifted a few centimeters off the mattress, her limbs stretched taut, and her chest the most elevated point, like a sheet caught by its corners in the wind. From the magical symbol, the essence of life—what most mortals called the soul—began to emerge and floated in the air until it fused with Michael’s possessed body.
The ingestion of another soul caused a brief euphoria, and he almost tore apart the lifeless human body, but he wanted to remain unnoticed as long as possible. So, he forced himself to muster his willpower and suppressed one of his most primal instincts. Just then, the door to the room opened. It was Vulfrack.
A’lheran was glad that it had been him who found him in that makeshift temple beneath the runielectric plant of Tagrei. He felt there were forgotten fragments between them—at least on his part—but Vulfrack had always been a warrior with an extreme sense of loyalty, something he appreciated. In the demon world, it was common for subordinates to try to overthrow their masters to take their place, and given how weak he had awakened, it would have been exceedingly easy for Vulfrack to kill him.
His loyal follower’s new body was that of a broad-shouldered, muscular human. His dark brown hair was shaved on the sides, with a small ponytail tied up. His beard was a bit long but well-groomed. A scar crossed his left eye, and another ran down his right cheek. Now, he was dressed in a navy blue suit with suspenders and a matching shirt, though in a much lighter shade, with the top buttons undone, revealing a skull pendant and part of his tattoos. Despite the years and the changing times, he still had the same intimidating yet elegant demeanor that defined him. Of course, he had taken the latter from him, as the demonic warrior had been his creation.
"What is it, my dear Vulfrack?"
"Sir, we haven't been able to contact Rudhi, Zergo, Nerub, Darxy, and Praxy," said the demonic warrior after kneeling in submission. "We believe they are dead."
"Well, I wasn’t expecting much from them anyway, but they served their purpose," A'lheran replied without giving the matter much importance. "But setting that aside" He ran one of his fingers along Vulfrack's face, lifting it so their eyes met. The eyes of the body he had possessed were blue. "I must thank you for freeing me from the soul crystallization and for warning me about the Black Cross Hunter."
The mention of that single word reminded him of the frustration when six of them cornered him, forcing him to flee so they wouldn't destroy his essence with their special weapons. One of them had a damned divine inside them. Were they still alive?
Without realizing it, he squeezed his servant's face, and his demonic nail dug into his skin.
"I don't deserve your thanks, sir," said Vulfrack, showing no reaction to the cut.
A'lheran turned and took a few steps around the room.
"Those arrogant fools should know their true place."
"And they will, sir," said Vulfrack, his face calm.
"I'm proud of you, Vulfrack. It's impressive that you managed to secure a vessel like that."
"Thank you, sir." The demonic warrior bowed his head briefly. "I will do anything to please you."
"That’s what I like to hear," A'lheran said with a smile. "As the good loyal dog that you are. You may go now."
"As you command." Vulfrack glanced at the woman who had served as the sacrifice. "Shall I take care of her, sir?"
"Now that you mention it, yes," the demon prince replied. "Inject her with a drug overdose and dispose of her. I don’t want to raise suspicions just yet."
Vulfrack nodded and carried her out.
A'lheran approached a round wooden table between two cushioned chairs. He took a glass of wine and a slice of cured ham, savoring them slowly. Then, he moved to the window of his hotel room, from where he observed the city of Catlon sprawling before his eyes. In the background, the voice of one of Catlon's most famous religious leaders echoed from a holographic television broadcast.
Though A'lheran had a preference for more artistic designs, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the evolution—or rather, the reconstruction—of Catlon after the devastation of the old world. Having participated in its destruction and subjugation in the past, A'lheran remembered a city that barely covered a quarter of the plateau it stood on. Now, not only did it fill the entire plateau, but it also spread beyond, taking the shape of a city-castle that, when viewed from above, resembled a comet with a fish-tail.
Surrounding this expansion and dominating the landscape was a thick outer wall encircling the city, reinforced by imposing defense towers at regular intervals. These structures, standing vigilant over Catlon's vast expanse, were a testament to the city's military power and its preparedness to fend off any threat, emphasizing Catlon's dual identity as an industrial urban center and an impregnable fortress.
From his position, A'lheran could see the so-called "first ring," the heart of the plateau where the palatial buildings of the elite stood, alongside luxurious apartments, the most prestigious hotels, renowned businesses, government buildings, and in the midst of it all, the runielectric plant. Beyond that, encircling the ancient plateau and descending to sea level, lay the second and third rings, where buildings, much more densely packed and of varying designs, reached heights between fifteen and forty stories. As night fell, a sea of lights and advertisements sprang from neon signs, holographic screens, and 3D projections, bathing the city in a decadent splendor.
Amidst these clusters of residential and commercial buildings were hundreds of ceramic factories. These not only produced luxury goods for export but also key materials for the armor of the Ibelirian army. The constant smoke from the factories mixed with the lightning from the auxiliary towers and the runielectric plant, giving Catlon an air both gloomy and austere, in sharp contrast to the city's vibrant nighttime spectacle.
At the edge of this circular area, six hive zones were located. Neither A'lheran nor the human he had possessed had been to one of these yet, but from what he had gathered from his human side and the Ibelirian network's information, those zones could be fertile ground for his demonic followers.
Before the destruction of the old world, Catlon had been separated from the sea and surrounded by forests. Now, hundreds of years later, and fueled by the Royal Decree of Population Restructuring, a "thin" line of roads and railways known as "the bridge" connected the urban sphere with what had once been a fishing town, fully integrating it into the urban fabric. The port, transformed into one of the lowest districts, housed a mix of taverns, brothels, and other establishments dedicated to fleeting indulgence.
The winding roads that ran through the city at different heights, used by vehicles on the upper levels and trains below, along with the metallic stations that emerged and blended into all sorts of buildings, highlighted the complexity and innovation in Catlon's infrastructure.
He almost felt sorry for having to destroy it. But his master, the demon god, had given him an important task, and he had to fulfill it if he didn’t want to suffer his wrath. The truth was that when his god briefly appeared to him after his release, A'lheran couldn’t believe he was still alive. He may have lost many souls and memories, but the one that fought in the final battle still remained within him. Back then, when the demons were already tasting victory, the cursed warrior of destruction tricked the demon god into possessing him, and once inside, the warrior of destruction sacrificed himself to kill the god. The brutal explosion of energy that emerged from the warrior of destruction killed and struck down hundreds of mortals and demons.
Shortly after, the demons found themselves overwhelmed by their lack of leadership, by the united armies of mortals suddenly bathed in revitalizing energy, and by the army of the traitor who fought with an unheard-of fury at the death of his commander.
And yet, there he was. Somehow, he had managed to survive it, and now he had returned to finish what he had started. And best of all, A'lheran had been one of the chosen ones to begin this magnificent task.
A'lheran looked at the city again, and a slight smile appeared on his lips as he imagined the world ruled by them. He would live in a tremendous modern castle, obsidian-colored, with numerous decorations featuring sexual, demonic, and plant motifs crafted in silver and shades of purple. It would have numerous windows with ancient tracery, and from the interconnected bodies that made up the castle, circular towers with conical roofs would extend, with a main tower from which he would oversee his kingdom. In this kingdom, mortals would take their rightful place as slaves, used as vessels, food, and most of all, as sexual toys. A'lheran would spend his days listening to classical music, reading, painting, enjoying wine, and, of course, indulging in endless sadomasochistic bacchanals.
But that fantasy would have to wait.
"Music player," he said, and a small holographic screen appeared to his left. A'lheran touched the screen, and a classical melody began to play throughout the room as if he were sitting in front of the orchestra's conductor. He refilled his glass and drank again. The first thing was to destroy Catlon, and he had already begun pulling the strings to carry out his majestic plan.