The very first action anyone could take as Grim lost control was, surprisingly, his demonic assistant. Bag used his newly released powers to float the helmet directly upwards, away from the overly enraged man.

What that single action revealed stunned everyone but the demonic assistant, as Bag quite knew what Grim looked like. Long pale hair, almost sickly in color cascaded down from the interior of the helm. A perfectly proportioned, if somewhat pale, face held eyes of a deeply vibrant purple. A complicated tattoo that seemed to pulse with raw energy ran across one cheek and down Grim’s neck to disappear over his shoulder. As sickly and gaunt as he looked, Grim held an ethereal beauty that stunned the demons.

That stunned moment was broken as he unleashed an immense scream of rage, followed by a tidal wave of Hellfire in every direction. The manacles on his wrists, the armor he had worked so hard to create in the prison universe, and the closest guards were simply vaporized. Not a piece of flesh or armor remained of the poor hapless muscle-bound Daemons.

The explosion of raw Hellfire was, even to demons of any rank or species, always fatal. Hellfire extinguished the soul before the body, and demons didn’t have souls as most others did. Their kind of soul were stored in the very energy that made up the Inferno itself. A complex parasitic relationship that not even Sam had fully understood. So when the body died the spawning pits would work on creating another body for that soul to connect to.

Not unlike a server of sorts.

Thus, demons always had their bodies obliterated when Hellfire was in play. They had no souls within the bodies to burn, so they were always susceptible, without proper defenses or measures, to any kind of attack that struck the soul first. This made both Hellfire and Divine attacks incredible effective against them… and angels as well.

“Why?” roared Grim, as the Daemon warriors around him cowered back. “Why did this happen?” he screamed, voice cracking with raw emotion. “How?”

He staggered forward, ignoring the two ornately dressed demons. They, wisely, stepped aside for the enraged man as he made his way up the stairs in front of the throne unsteadily. Grim was always one to strictly regulate his emotions. This level of self-control was rapidly cooling his rage from a blazing fireball to a cold fury.

The nearly naked man stepped onto the throne’s dais, reaching forward in a hesitating manner. He touched the blade realizing that it was, indeed, his fathers. Swallowing his hand followed the blade to where it pierced Sam’s desiccated husk of a body.

“Why didn’t you take him down? Why didn’t you treat him as the King he was?” croaked Grim, tears of hapless rage streaming down his face.

One of the ornate demons bowed deeply, falling to his knees. The others quickly followed. “We tried to Prince Infernus. However, we were unable to remove the blade. Any who touched it perished. So, we honored Lord Samael in the only way we could, to hold court below his throne to so that all may be shown what we lost.”

It took moment for what the demon said to register with Grim. Slowly, he turned to the two slowly. “What… you lost? Explain.”

The second, and so far silent, of the two demons spoke. “What you see is what remains of the demonic races in Inferno. All other have been eradicated, the pits destroyed, and all our hopes obliterated in the face of overwhelming strength. Lord Samael was not betrayed, he was simply overpowered. We retreated here after fighting for… many years.”

“Fighting who? Who is there to fight? This entire realm is instantly fatal to mortals who aren’t infused,” Grim said, now fully under control of his emotions.

“The Hunters,” the two demon Patriarchs said jointly.

Grim didn’t recognize the term, but he now recognized the two in front of him. Patriarchs were demons who led families, lines, or lineages of various demon races. These two were from separate, but similar, lineages of Daemons, frontline warriors for Inferno.

“Hunters? I don’t… who are they? I don’t recognize them, and I have been to all Twelve Primes,” he asked, flabbergasted that he didn’t know about them.

The two demons nodded. “Hunters. Beings of… well we don’t know. We don’t know where they came from. We don’t know who sent them. We don’t know how many of them there are,” the first Patriarch said, still bowing low to the floor.

“What do you know then? And what did you mean the last demons?” Grim asked, the fact that the last demons in existence could be standing in this room.

“Not much,” the second Patriarch admitted. “We do know that they are not entities of the Twelve Primes. We also know that Hellfire is not as fatal to them as other beings, even mortals. Their losses were immense in the taking of our realm. But, apparently, not immense enough.”

Grim stood there in shock. He could read between the lines, but the realization was no less shocking. Inferno had been not only conquered, but outright destroyed.

“As for the last demons my Prince, you look upon them,” the skinny Patriarch stated. “The palace was separated from Inferno, physically, becoming its own pocket dimension. The Council of Patriarchs used the last of our power, and indeed even that killed the majority of us, to ensure we are constantly moving. Finding us is nearly impossible.”

The second Patriarch coughed, “That is, unless someone happens to know the precise masterwork runes for a Hell Spike connection.”

“Which I do,” Grim stated factually as the two demons nodded.

“My Prince, where did you disappear to you?” the first Patriarch asked painfully. “You were gone for nearly thirty years Inferno time. Who knows how long within the Primes themselves. Why did you forsake us?”

Grim sat heavily on the stairs to the throne, unsure of how to answer the question. A clawed hand came down lightly on his shoulder. He looked up to see Bagdana in his full form. The shorter demon was dressed in a suit and jet black bowtie. His horns perfectly positioned to come out the sides of his top hat, nearly matching the hat in height.

“Master Grim no more abandoned you than you abandoned Lord Samael,” the demon stated firmly causing both Patriarchs to shrivel backward. “Lord Samael gave our young Master a task, one of paramount importance that would have affected the future of Inferno itself. I dare say, with his amazing foresight, that Lord Samael saw this exact series of events coming. I would not be surprised in the least if the wily Master of Deception showed back up at some point.”

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Grim snorted at that. “Yeah, Dad was rather sneaky at times, and you never knew what was going on with him.” He looked at the Patriarchs.

“What mission was so vital? And why were we nor informed?” inquired the second Patriarch.

Grim grunted, “That is for me to know. Dad… dad gave me the task, said it was important. Although now I am wondering if it was really that important or if he knew what was coming and wanted me out of the cross hairs. Not that the damn Couriers made anything safe or easy.”

“So, the Palace is the only thing that remains?” he said, changing the subject and not giving anyone a chance to dive deeper into what he had been up to.

“Yes Prince,” confirmed the Patriarchs simultaneously, immediately acquiescing to his unspoken demand to leave the subject alone.

“That means there’s a pit here,” he said cheerfully, stunning everyone else present. Even Bag seemed a bit taken aback.

“The pits were destroyed when Inferno fell my Prince,” said one Patriarch slowly. “There are none in the Palace.”

Grim popped a pale eyebrow, “Did you look?”

The demons all turned to one another before the second Patriarch demon grumbled, “For fucks sake, no we didn’t. Aren’t we just the smartest bunch, not even bothering to check what resources the center of civilization in Inferno may hold.”

Grim chuckled, “That’s better. Knock this deferential shit off and stand up. This groveling isn’t what I expected. There is a single spawning pit here used for Royal Lines. However, I can repurpose it to begin to give us works, soldiers, and renew the races of Inferno.”

The Patriarchs and Daemons stood. Then, as one, bowed to Grim. “Hail Prince Grim,” they said as one. Nearly three dozen demons, all that remained of a multi-realm civilization, paid homage and recognition to the prodigal son that had returned.

Grim stood, Bag at his side, as he circled around the throne. He threw one last sad glance at the remains of Samael, then proceeded into the receiving room behind the throne. The demons moved to follow, however Bag waved the Daemons away, only allowing the two demonic family leaders to accompany them. Once in the hallway behind the throne Grim studied the wall there closely, confusing everyone who had followed him.

Nodding, and apparently having found what he was looking for, Grim pushed a series of bricks in a sequence that resulted in the distinct sound of a lock disengaging. Then the section of the wall slid into the floor.

“This is the Royal Line spawning pit,” he said slowly. “Hidden away in case of emergencies for the Noble Demons. But I am going to fuck it up and use it to spawn more base level demons. Evolution may take longer, this is true, but numbers are an important factor right now.”

He turned to Bag, “I need to know if we are connected to Inferno’s energy, or if what is in the Palace is just a remnant,” he said. “Find that out for me. If we aren’t connected… we will need to use the prison universe as a source of materials and energy.”

“My Prince?” the first Patriarch asked, confused.

“Ah. Right. So. I somehow ended up in what might be an entirely unconnected Prime Universe. The beings who run it, and will apparently be leaving shortly, have told me it was intended as a prison realm,” Grim explained. “I suspect… no. I know that it is far, far larger than a realm. Those… weird creatures have hinted at as much.”

The Patriarchs looked at one another, stunned. There were only twelve Primary Universes, often referred to as the Twelve Primes. Any dimensional traveler knew this, as when traveling between realities you could see the constellations representing each of the eleven you could travel to, as well as the one you were leaving. Grand, sky filling constellations with hundreds of glittering satellites signifying independent planes and uncountable independent pin pricks of light for realms. To find there was a thirteenth, unconnected universe?

The implications of such a fact were quite literally world altering.

“Another universe… perhaps does this mean that there are far mor realms and realities that we could know of?” breathed one Patriarch in amazement.

Grim nodded. “Definitely. Don’t know why, or how, something of that magnitude isn’t visible. But I have a suspicion. Nothing factual to go on yet, but the fact remains there is an untapped universe out there,” he confirmed. What he said next stopped both Patriarchs in their tracks, even as he continued into the wall opening and down the stairs. “Did I mention the System isn’t present?”

Grim walked with bag down the wide curving stairwell for several minutes. Eventually, Bag began to chuckle. “Was that utterly necessary Master? Those two poor demons have lost so much, and have now regained their Prince only to be told that their world views don’t apply anymore. Independent universes without the System? Absurd… yet here we are.”

“Indeed,” Grim said, dour. His long pale hair was matted to his face and neck. He needed a shower, a shave, and some civilized comforts. He had, for too long, been on the fringes of society in his hunt for the Shards. Hunting and being hunted in turn, never forming attachments outside of his demons. They were his sole friends.

Or had been.

Now all he had was Bag, and Grim certainly wasn’t complaining. The destruction his armor had been the death of friends he had held near and dear for centuries. The Patriarchs hadn’t been wrong in their assumption that more time had passed outside of Inferno than within. They had been mistaken in the sheer quantity of time that had gone by, however. By his own count, Grim would be celebrating his three-hundred and eleventh birthday in thirty-six days.

Getting to the bottom of the stairs, Grim and Bag heard the shuffle of fabric from above them, signifying that the Patriarchs had come out of the stupor and were headed toward as well. For elder demons who were, supposedly, the last leaders of great bloodlines of demons, they sure didn’t handle change or surprise well.

Grim shrugged to himself, it could also just be a portent of old age. Old dogs and new tricks and all that.

At the bottom of the winding stairwell was a single, large room. Four hundred feet by four hundred feet, the room was perfectly square. An important metric when building a spawning pit, particularly one used by royalty and those of high rank within Inferno.

Spell work was divided up into several levels of ranking. The lowest was Apprentice. Most demons and students were inherently capable of casting this level of magic at birth. Following this were the ranks making up mid-level spell casters, Acolyte, Journeyman, and Adept. Above these were the vaunted ranks of Master and Grand Master.

But there was one more rank. Transcendental.

Very few demons, mortals, or even angels were capable of handling the amount of raw energy required to handle Transcendental spell work, much less create the magical circles required to channel that energy. Grim certainly wasn’t. He was proud to have achieved the level of Master, but he was far and away again capable of such immense magic that he was looking at now.

Grims father, however, had been one of those beings. He had been present when the Demon Lord had created the Royal Line spawning pit and the circle that went with it. While Grim could not create such a powerful magical creation such as this, he could certainly activate it. Provided there was enough energy left within the Palace that is.

“Bag, what are the energy levels here in the Palace? Do we have enough to re-activate this pit?” he asked his assistant.

Bag nodded. “Yes Master. In fact, it seems the Palace is generating a tiny amount of energy itself. Lord Samael probably ensured that it would be capable of doing so. He was, if anything, extremely paranoid of being cut off from his resources.”

Grim nodded. He stretched his hands out towards the vastly complex magical array in front of him. The Patriarchs came down the stairwell just in time to see him activate the energy flows of the array.

Grim lit up as if he were on fire, grunting with the effort of doing something as simple as directing the remaining energy of Inferno through his body and into the pits magic circuits. Then the look of being on fire turned into the feeling of being on fire, and Grims grunting turned to screams of rage and pain. After several seconds of the shocking scene, their Prince fell to the floor, unmoving.

A powerful hum filled the air as the vastly powerful array activated. And what remained of Inferno burned.