Following the steps that Lucifer’s butler, the shameful shame of ultimate shamery that was Althazar, had taken when Abraxis entered the throne room, the duo went up the flight of stairs leading to the east wing. It didn’t take long to find Lilith’s room. Abraxis entered the one across the hall, Albagoroth following him. The room was large, rightly so for someone of his stature, and had its own sitting area away from the bed, bath, and balcony overlooking the rest of Hell.

Abraxis gestured towards one of the four couches assembled around an obsidian central table. After the large archdemon sat, Abraxis did so too, relishing in the feel of the softest spiderkin silk affordable. He knew there were at least two degrees of quality higher, but they weren’t available for purchase, not even by Lucifer or Andariel.

The first time he’d heard of such a thing, he’d not understood the implications. Now that he met Uncle, things were becoming a bit clearer. Those things didn’t change much. Yet, they changed everything. His perspective of the world around him shifted. Instead of feeling proud of the spiderkin silk they sat on, he now felt like it wasn’t good enough for him.

As he regarded Albagoroth, the silk brushed against him as a constant reminder of the information he still processed. Hell was small fry compared to what else was out there, but where was “there”? Where in the Four Worlds were these monsters like Albagoroth and Uncle hiding, along with the rest of his family?

Or rather than hiding, where were they flourishing? Where was the realm, plane, existential existence transcendent to what he’d known his whole life? The implications were infinite and excited him.

So first, before he could go and find out all of that, he had to be sure of one thing in particular. “Albagoroth, you mentioned a one-time deal. Were you wasting our time with that, or were you being serious?”

Albagoroth flicked his wrist, and two things appeared: a syringe of some gray-green fluid and an orb unlike any Abraxis had ever seen before. The fluid inside the syringe piqued his curiosity for but a second before the strange orb took his full focus.

The world only got bigger and bigger. The more he knew, the less he knew, and this orb made the fact the information he had available was limited stare him in the face to be recognized as a gross, nasty, awful thing. So constrained had he been to a simplistic, foolish view of the true world, he could hardly quell the indignation in his chest!

A curious thought struck him, Does Lilith know of these truths? There was no way. She was a part of the Seekers of Demiurge, sure, but—well. But what?

He’d heard the name before, Seekers of Demiurge, and understood the implied connotations of said name, but he never once really delved into the subject of the group’s existence, their purpose, their truths.

Food for thought, I suppose.

Whatever the answer, it made the Princess of Hell something far more intriguing to him. Namely, the fact Lucifer and Andariel had never mentioned word of the Seekers of Demiurge or Lilith’s involvement, which made him wonder if they were even aware of the organization's presence. But also, upon a second analysis of events, that wisp of something in her eyes that he’d never been able to place so many times before.

He grinned. She’s incredible, I know, but sometimes it escapes me just how much that is true. But as she is incredible, so am I.

Albagoroth cleared his throat to gain Abraxis’ attention. The fledgling snapped his attention to the archdemon and growled, “What? I’ve been waiting for you to answer my question.”

“Young Master, the deal was not an idle boast, no. This,” he raised the syringe, “is a pseudo-sentience of my own creation that can delve into the magic of your very being.”

Abraxis held up a hand. “Wait. Why don’t you just tell me what I want to know? If Uncle is your master, then you must know plenty about my family and bloodline. Just tell me and skip this whole thing.”

The archdemon set the syringe down carefully next to the prismatic orb of cosmic insight, fanciful flights of concepts Abraxis couldn’t fathom, and whispered power that shook his mind if he looked too hard. “I can’t do that, and I’ll have to rescind my offer if you press for any other information.” He gestured towards the syringe and orb. “This is all I can offer in terms of granting you a semblance of clarity. Anything else is outside of my means. And I promise, this is the best I have to offer.”

“As long as it’s actually the best,” Abraxis conceded, waving towards the eight-armed, minotaur-looking archdemon with a strange dichotomy of being overwhelmingly powerful yet oddly subservient. “Get on with it then, and be sure not to skip any steps. Do it right, or I’ll let Uncle know you’re not doing your duties properly.”

He didn’t know if Uncle would care at all. He’d only just met the man after all. However, the threat itself seemed to get Albagoroth moving into action. With a smooth motion, four of his arms gripped Abraxis’ two, restraining him completely while stabbing the syringe into Abraxis’ neck.

Pain. Everything became searing flames and blurred realities as those four arms dragged his forehead forward to press against the strangely amorphous orb of untold power. Albagoroth’s other four arms made sure the pseudo-sentience fully integrated into Abraxis, another unidentifiable power guiding the liquid.

Everything that came next, Abraxis woke with no memory of, gasping as he fell back to the ground and stared dead-eyed up at Albagoroth. It only took him a second to process that Albagoroth had finished and that he presented himself in quite an unsightly way.

Stolen story; please report.

However, Albagoroth didn’t look his direction, which allowed him the ability to convince himself the archdemon had seen nothing. Picking himself up, double-checking to see if Albagoroth showed signs of having witnessed his moment of shame, and then patting himself off when the archdemon remained as stoic as stoic could be, he sat at the edge of the couch and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What was that?” Voice neutral, his desire for the information Albagoroth now contained within the indecipherable orb beating out any fleeting sense of hostility. It helped to know that the archdemon could, and would, obliterate him were Abraxis to lash out in any way, shape, or form. Uncle had said he was left to his own devices as clear as day, and Albagoroth was still an archdemon with his own ego and identity that wouldn’t tolerate established boundaries being crossed. “What did you learn?”

“Well, you definitely take after your father, Young Master.” Amusement. Glee. Hope. Excitement. These things flashed through the archdemon’s eyes faster than Abraxis could parse. “I’ve got the sum of your existence here,” he said, holding the prismatic orb with all eight hands, “but a lot of what is here, you’re prohibited from knowing just yet.”

Is he saying what I think he is? Abraxis questioned internally, stunned by the refusal to report the full extent of what had been learned. Remaining objective, he nodded. “Tell me what you know.”

This time, Albagoroth at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. It passed. “I presented some of the information earlier. Currently, your Existential Ranking is… subpar. You’ve yet to Awaken as well. Your potential for growth is limitless, as is the norm for your bloodline. Your Nexus is prepared to advance and increase your Existential Ranking, which seems to be why it’s currently subpar.” He looked at Abraxis oddly. “Why do you try to limit yourself to a singular type of Sin?”

Abraxis bristled at having his decisions questioned, but Albagoroth had no malice in his voice and had already done much for him. He pushed away the paranoia that the archdemon would sabotage his growth or lead him down a lesser path. After all, he was a being far greater than Lucifer and Andariel. And all three of them overshadowed him multiple times over.

He considered his answer for several moments, went down the logical processing of his choices, and then nodded to himself, resolute. “While I may have an affinity for many of the other Sins, several of the others feel detrimental to my identity. And that’s something I value more than raw power.”

“Good answer.” Albagoroth resummoned the orbs from before, seven of them with distinct coloration hovering above the prismatic orb. However, even more detailed information presented to Abraxis. “This orb is the highest grade Reader I’ve created, and I only use it on you now after having spent the last thousand years refining its attunement to take into consideration your family’s special… circumstances.”

Studying the orbs again, Abraxis noticed there were different quantities and qualities than before. Rather than empty space and vagueness in those that lacked concrete definition, there was that power he’d failed to identify before. Something new and complimentary. “Explain.”

“I can only show you. Whether you figure out what these mean or not is entirely up to you,” Albagoroth said, holding his head up high, “but if it’s you, I’m sure you won’t disappoint. And even then…” He looked around, waving his hand to erect a barrier. For what, Abraxis couldn’t tell. “You don’t need to know.”

The barrier shattered as fast as it raised, and given the current context, only one person in Lucifer’s palace could do that. And as Abraxis thought, Uncle appeared.

“What might you be trying to do here, A-Bag-Of-Rocks?” Uncle asked, eyes cementing Albagoroth in place absolutely.

Uncle reached his hand forward and pressed a single finger against the archdemon’s forehead, pulling a strain of something milky, something silver and black, and something that made the minotaur-sized, eight-armed archdemon roar in unimaginable pain and terror.

Albagoroth fell to writhing on the floor, spasming and convulsing like a lesser demon who’d drank too much of that forbidden, disgusting Blight concoction that robbed them of the senses and diluted their powers but took away their pathetic insecurities and perceived weaknesses. He writhed and wriggled until he stilled, got back up, and knelt before Uncle.

“My apologies, Master. I will receive whatever punishment you deign necessary for my lapse in judgment,” intoned Albagoroth numbly, devoid of any emotion and that familiar, resounding power of definition in his existence. “I’ll take my leave and await your orders.”

Poof.

Albagoroth was gone, disappeared in a haze of prismatic hues mixed with a slick, filmy like gray power that pervaded his being. Left alone with Uncle, Abraxis was uncertain whether or not he should speak.

Of course he should. “What was that about, and have you finished your meeting?”

“You really do have no shame,” muttered Uncle as he inspected the strange wisp that had come out of Albagoroth. His eyes didn’t leave the wisp, and then he found what he wanted. He sighed and turned to Abraxis. “Look here, Nephew. Your will is powerful, and there will be people who wish to appease that will. That does not mean you should take advantage of them before you’re ready. If what Albagoroth told you had been more serious, I’d strip you of all of your potential and gift it away—probably to that Lilith girl. She already has so much potential,” he mused.

Losing his power wasn’t an option Abraxis would ever even contemplate, so he simply nodded. “I would not prod deeper than I should. I’m uncertain as to what was said to cause such a reaction.”

“Worry not, Nephew, for Albagoroth knows of his misdeeds, even if you remain ignorant. That is for the best,” he stated, shaking around the wisp of Albagoroth’s being for a few seconds before letting it go. As if guided by some unseen existence, the wisp went to the exact spot Albagoroth had disappeared and followed his steps with a poof. “I’ll take care of the rest of your report. Do pay attention. My time is very valuable.”

Abraxis wanted to know two things, but he’d already asked the first. So he needed the answer before they could proceed. “What of your meeting with Lucifer and Andariel, Uncle?” he repeated, holding back the vitriol at having to repeat himself as if his words were worthless and his questions a nuisance. “Should you not return to them first?”

Uncle gave a short shake of his head. “I’m currently in that meeting, both here, there, and nowhere at all,” he stated matter-of-factly with a subtle wink. “Now, let’s get to those results.”

Now that his first question had been answered, the ongoing question of his results from Albagoroth’s Reading pervaded his mind and absorbed his focus. A little too focused, in fact. Looking at Uncle suspiciously, he only received a knowing grin, but there was nothing Abraxis could do as his focus returned to the orbs and his suspicion faded entirely.

“So, let’s start here.” Uncle pointed at the most prominent orb, violet. “Your pride.”