the overcoat screamed at him the moment it made contact with his body. Then it constricted as tight as it could go, seeking to squash him into a pulp that only resembled a man.

Grim was so caught off guard it nearly succeeded.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, pumping energy into his body to reinforce his skin. Being in the Palace, that meant that he had enough available power to making his skin nearly impervious to blunt force and piercing damage. It would take a lot more than an angry coat to kill him.

it screamed at him more.

He… was at a loss. The overcoat couldn’t hurt him… so he wasn’t too upset with its attitude. On the other hand, he seems to have hurt it somehow… and badly.

“Just what the hell did I do to you?” Grim asked, poking at the rage infused leather. It had stopped its attempts to squish him, but was still so instilled with a sense of fury it was practically vibrating while he was wearing it.

it screeched.

Grim mentally tuned it out. But he was very annoyed that his coat, which the true demons volunteered themselves to make, was apparently some pain filled homicidal rag determined to off him. He grabbed his new blade by the handle and held it up. “Do you want to kill me too?”

it said back instantly.

He blinked. “Are you… high?” Grim asked, incredulous.

it said, depressed.

Grand. He had made a depressed kitchen knife and a murderous jacket. This couldn’t… have gone any better really. He sighed. No. It really could have gone better. Much, much better. Grim’s only thoughts on what could have possibly gone wrong were that he infused far too much essence into only four items.

He paused.

“Umm, gauntlets. Hey there. You doing ok?” he asked, holding up his arms.

“Grand. I summoned the Brady Bunch,” Grim lamented.

Bag took that moment to walk into the bedroom, freezing as he stared at Grim in shock. Slowly, he opened his mouth… then closed it. Finally, taking a deep breath, the demon said, “Master, your clothing is on fire. Is it supposed to do that?”

Grim was caught off-guard again, holding out his arms inly to realize that the sleeves were smoldering and on fire.

screeched the overcoat.

pointed out the sword.

The overcoat went from on fire to cool in a heartbeat. it asked cautiously.

“You keep trying to kill me and I will. I don’t need a coat that doesn’t behave,” Grim admitted. ”Besides, what can you even do for me? Outside of lighting yourself on fire.”

it said, cackling madly.

The word chipped in while the overcoat continued to cackle and ignore all inquiries directed at it,

Grim nodded at that. It was to be expected they would all have base level abilities. These abilities would expand over time, through both use and by feeding them raw energy and souls. “What about you sword?” Grim asked, “What can you do?”

it said. Then it added,

“Anywhere? Like another dimension anywhere?” Grim asked, a bit surprised.

the blade confirmed.

Grim nodded at that. It was a rare weapon who could cross dimensional boundaries when called for. It was a rarer weapon that had additional abilities aside from that. Nodding he directed his attention to the gauntlets. “How about you two? Anything interesting you can do?”

pouted the young male gauntlet. The female one sighed in acquiescence and the brother continued,

“Dimensional… thingy?” Grim asked, confused. Then his brain cleared, “You mean you have your own pocket dimension?”

the boy said excitedly.

That was great. Grim now had a dimensional storage device. These were some of the rarest and most difficult devices to create anywhere in the Prime Twelve. Often times they required massive machines to compress materials or open and maintain pocket dimensions. Nothing like a wearable device existed outside of a few realms, at least that he was aware of.

the elder, much cooler headed gauntlet said.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Grim was floored. Not one, but two pocket dimensions attached to his wrists. That could be very good… or very, very bad. Pocket dimensions took enormous amounts of energy to maintain, and should the anchor become unstable… well worlds had been lost before in such events.

“Right. Keep you two safe,” Grim said grimly.

the female gauntlet explained,

That brought Grim a bit of relief. Not much, but a bit.

cackled the overcoat.

The female gauntlet sniffed at him, she snarked back.

muttered the jacket.

Grim turned to Bag to help, only to see that his assistant was nearly doubled over in silent laughter. Bagdana was more than capable of hearing the entire conversation, and apparently the level of discomfort Grim was feeling was highly amusing to the demon.

“Master,” he gasped, schooling his facial expression and demeanor, “perhaps you should give them names to cut down on this… lack of coherent conversation.”

grunted the coat.

“Right then, into the closet you go then,” Grim said, having enough of the piece of belligerent clothing. “And that was a thought I never thought I would think,” he said, struggling through the complex feeling of confusion mixed with no small amount of shame.

protested the overcoat.

The sword giggled,

A mental shrug from the jacket was its only response.

“Enough!” said Grim forcefully, smothering the armor with enough energy to cow them all simultaneously. Even Bag looked mildly ill. “Jackets name is Strap. Blades name is Sunder. Gauntlets are Kim and Kane. There. Done.”

Grim felt a surge of energy as the items engraved the names into their very beings. As their creator, giving them names made them… more tangible, deepening their relationship and resonance with him. This made both the items and himself stronger than he would have without naming them. Although, at this point he wasn’t sure if the boost to his power was worth the problems they brought along with them.

yelled Strap telepathically as he felt the energy surge through every stitch and fiber of his glorious being. The others had similar, if much less overt, reactions to the increase in power.

Sunder, Kim, Kane, and Bag just sighed, already seeing that the offensive piece of equipment was going to be a handful to deal with.

“Right then,” Grim said with a roll of his eyes and turning to Bag, “What are you planning on doing?”

With a smile that revealed all too many sharp teeth, Bag took a bow. His body began to melt into a dark, pitch-like liquid that flowed along the floor and up Grim’s legs and torso to the crown of his head. After his body had completely dissolved, and the liquid fully coalesced into a ball, it spread out into a short, wide brim leather top hat. The edges curled outwards and the two buckles were perfectly centered above the brim of the hat, giving the impression that it was smiling malevolently at anyone who looked close enough.

And Bag probably was.

said Bag eloquently.

Grim nodded. Bag wasn’t wrong. It had taken Bag, and a lot of trial and error with his former armor, to find a balance that provided the needed boosts and abilities that were useful. There was no point in having an ability to grow plants if he was not going into a situation that called for it. A variety of abilities was always good for a variety of situations but having a mastery of those abilities through practice was a requirement for success. It didn’t matter how many things you could do if you did them all badly.

“This works I guess,” Grim said, indifferent to the newfound cohesion between his armor. He certainly looked good. Although their strength would only grow as time went by and they fought more together. He was still concerned about Strap, but the murderous overcoat had, if anything, the appropriate mindset for his role.

It was with that thought that Sunder yawned. it said sleepily, then the blade went dormant.

Infused living armor, particularly armor that had their own personalities, were often ‘awake’ only for limited amounts of time. Their active abilities, such as summoning creatures or allowing their wielders to wear living Hellfire, took immense amounts of energy. This didn’t make their passive abilities any less effective, but it did cut down on the useless chatter.

Something Grim was very much looking forward to.

He examined the gauntlet twins and the overcoat, only to find that they were already dormant as well.

Bag chortled mentally.

“Lets… hope their personalities mellow a bit before that happens. They are annoying enough as it is, I don’t know if I could stay sane if they were awake all the time,” Grim admitted, adjusting his tie in the nearby mirror. “Now, lets go find that Daemon and issue some instructions. Do you know where it is?”

reported his assistant.

“Grand,” Grim muttered. It didn’t take him long to make his way back to the throne room. The moment he stepped through the double doors, he noticed the Daemon and two imps kneeling before the throne itself. Samael’s body and the blade were still there, much to his annoyance.

“I think its about time I took care of that,” he said, striding across the flawlessly crafted floor and up the dais steps and reached out to take the hilt of the odd, black blade. The moment his hand made contact with it however, his skin began to decay through the gauntlet without doing any damage to it. “What the fuck?” he said, surprised.

He pulled his hand back and flexed his fingers, feeling as the skin grew back. Again.

“Did that sword just… fucking attack me?” he said, both annoyed and impressed. “Fine. Fuck you.”

Grim held out his hand impulsively and a stream of pure, fully empowered Hellfire burst forth into existence. It washed over the blade, his father’s body, the throne, and flowed up the walls behind it incinerating everything in its path. He kept up the flow for a solid minute before cutting it off and mentally extinguishing the flames. The throne, true to the being who crafted it, remained unharmed. The body and blade, however, were gone, leaving only the hole the blade had made in the throne itself.

exclaimed Bag happily over their mental connection.

Grim nodded as well. Truth be told, it had been much easier to eliminate the blade than he had thought. However… the fact that his father’s ‘body’ had been reduced to ash told him several very, very important things.

The first, and less important, fact was that the blade had simple ceased to be. This told Grim that it was either a simple piece of metal enchanted and disguised to look like something far more malevolent and powerful… or it had been an outright illusion with a curse in it.

The second, and far, far more important fact was that no Demon Lord’s body, living or deceased, could be harmed by Hellfire. That Samael’s body had been reduced to ash by Grim’s attack told him one, simple, irrefutable thing.

“Dad is still alive,” Grim stated. “Or at the very least he didn’t die here. But my bet is that he is still very much alive. Why he staged this though… I don’t really know.”

Bag reminded him.

Grim rolled his eyes. It was true that his father had a… deeply shadowed side to him that no one really understood. On the other hand, he was a loving and caring parent who taught him nearly everything he knew. For him to fake his death… or at least make them think he faked his death ensured that there was a good reason behind such an action.

Grim cracked his neck, “Lets go Bag. My father can figure out his own issues. He did so before me, he will do so after me. We, meanwhile, have things we need to figure out.”

He smiled, the toothy grin slightly too wide for his face, “Things to do, people to kill.”