Demon Continent Alsace in the year 307, in the 10th month of Asmodum, on the 26th day after the Empire's downfall.
Silently, they moved through the underbrush and tree shadows toward the unfolding chaos. He had observed the situation as long as possible, and now it seemed the Devourer's army was ready for their assault on the city.
The perfect moment had arrived for him to slip into the city and search for the princess. "Perhaps I still have the chance to rescue the princess and make her subservient to me. She does possess a Stage One core, and if we save her from this life-threatening situation, she might naturally become devoted to me as her savior."
At the thought, a broad grin spread across his face. He could already envision marrying the nation's princess, a scout from the common folk. No more life-threatening missions like this one, just a comfortable life in the palace where he could take one or more lovers.
"After the wedding, I wouldn't want to ruin my chances with her." He planned to feign fidelity and love for a month or two, or however long it took for her to be legally married to him. Once married, he could do as he pleased, for she wouldn't want to turn away from her savior and would forgive any mistake he made.
It wasn't forbidden in their society; many powerful demons had multiple partners, and he was no different. The princess would understand, or she would have to learn. He was certain that given time, she would, or there were other methods to make her compliant.
The traitors seemed unconcerned about potential attacks from behind. All the soldiers, demon or rat, had been drawn to the front, engaged in storming the city. They fought like a swarm, although not particularly intelligently. The civilians he had seen marched into the fray behind actual soldiers, where they were least effective. It would have been different if they had led the first wave, allowing soldiers to exploit the chaos for an attack.
It seemed to him that the traitors were following certain orders received beforehand. The drawback was obvious: they had no free will and couldn't think for themselves to adapt to the constantly changing situations on the battlefield.
Although the army was large, it struggled to penetrate deep into the city. And wherever it succeeded, it was repelled. Moreover, the army couldn't completely surround the city, allowing him and his remaining soldiers to enter unnoticed by both parties.
He found this peculiar. Why wasn't the army expanding to encircle the rat city, applying pressure from all sides? Not that he minded; it would make it easier for him to find the princess and extract her. He couldn't fathom her purpose here. Was she a captive of the rats, or was she aiding them in some alliance?
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"In essence, it doesn't matter. I won't be helping her if she struck any pact with these rats. I'll simply snatch her and vanish from here. Now I just need to find her."
With a hand signal, he directed his men to split up and search for their target. "If necessary, take one of the rats and interrogate them about the princess's whereabouts," he instructed them in a whisper before they disappeared in different directions.
He, however, moved towards the frontline, seeking a suitable source of information, if there was any command structure among the rats.
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He paced impatiently, observed nervously or fearfully by the priests, some exhibiting both emotions. They were always anxious or afraid in his presence, and usually, he relished it. But at the moment, he could have decapitated them for it.
Meinoume expected much from him this day, and the first part of his master's plan had miserably failed. They had lost a significant amount of combat strength.
From the start, he hadn't considered it a good idea to let the priests act alone. They were priests; some of them hadn't willingly become priests of their master and therefore had weak faith and could be overwhelmed by Diva and her shamans.
But that wasn't what was making him restless, it was the fact that he would be avenging his arm. Meinoume had foreseen that the little Titan who had petrified his arm would appear on the battlefield today, yet he hadn't seen her yet.
He couldn't catch a glimpse of her through any of the soldiers or perceive anything that could hint at her presence. Moreover, the Larrua had reactivated the golems, deadly to his troops, and he hadn't found a counter against them. He didn't know if he would come up with a solution or if the battle would have been long over by then.
This frustrated him even more. Then there was the constant whining of the priesthood, witnessing their own power dwindling and fearing the loss of Meinoume's favor if they weren't successful this time.
As if he cared for the damned souls of the priests. He was one of Meinoume's champions, and with every opponent he devoured or subdued, his own power grew. And Meinoume could always provide him with a new body.
"Though there's the problem with my arm." He glanced at the mentioned arm, reflexively attempting to close his fingers, which reminded him that it held him in his current body.
It wasn't that Meinoume hadn't tried to free him from this curse or put him in another body. Every time Meinoume had attempted to change something, his petrified arm had prevented it. It seemed as though body and mind had been petrified simultaneously and were held in place by his arm.
Hence, he hoped that by devouring the Titan, he could lift its curse. Initially, he hadn't noticed that the priests had fallen silent, and he couldn't hear their prayers or perceive their movements out of the corner of his eye.
However, as the connection to them and to the soldiers weakened, and he heard less and less of the battle, even other noises grew quieter and eventually ceased, he realized something was amiss. Lost in thought, he had neglected his surroundings.
Immediately, he activated shields around himself and ordered the priests to do the same. "What's wrong with you? Defend yourselves!" But no matter how loudly he shouted, they didn't react. Even when he approached the nearest priest and shook his shoulder to snap him out of his trance, there was no response.
The crunching of footsteps made him whirl around. Before him stood a young demoness with long black hair and pale skin streaked with veins of glowing embers. Her hands and forearms were dyed black like ash, sporting claw-like hands.
Her hair was parted by small horns that seemed to encircle her head like a wreath or crown, converging into two large horns jutting outward from her forehead, curving backward toward her head to create a loop, then tapering upward.
Gray eyes, with uncharacteristic slitted pupils for demons, threatened to ensnare him, much like the last time he had seen her.