―—―—

Malefir wasn't mad. No, just disappointed —Useless, all off them. Is it to much to ask for competence?

As he walks through this cursed realm he can't help but remember the terror he felt that day– This place does that to you. He reminds himself to stay focused as even someone like him could be lost forever where he to step off from the path.

He hates this part of hell, and he hates its residents. A proud devil like him forced to feel fear, just the thought makes his inner fires stir hisss! - and wince in pain. As even after the years have passed, he is still recovering from his wounds and the weakness brought by the Light that was unleashed then. He brings his wrath down to a slight smolder, making sure not to overburden his recovering core. The whole thing was a massive failure... Those angels, all this is their fault.

But now that he is angry and remembered, he can't help but also curse that damn woman. Ambra— she was basically his left hand. She will regret it one day.

After he learned she just dropped the Imp with the troops, instead of bringing it to the Citadel as he ordered he was furious.

-Such a waste. He would have ripped her wings off for disobeying him like this... That's if she didn't just desert from the Legion at the same time. *Grrr! Gritting his fangs he picks up the pace.

But the mind keeps going back to that day as he walks the Nightmare Realm that he was forced to visit for his meeting, mood sour at the prospect of what awaits him. Soon he will reach the Garden, and have other things to worry about.

-Curse those incompetent and insubordinate morons that surround me.

Shadows keep swirling in the darkness - just an arms reach away, as he walks a narrow road.

After he was struck down by that crazy holy bitch and left to bleed on that hill, he found an Imp. The sole fact that it survived that day would be enough reason to suspect it wasn't simple. It was weak, so stupidly weak. A newborn really ―Too weak.

Red Imp is an advanced evolution that requires some measure of power. Not something a newborn should be able to achieve. He could understand a Hell Spawn becoming a regular Imp after spending some time up there, but that little thing seemed almost like it was born a day before.

It did save them both, though Malefir would never admit to anyone that he froze in fear at the sight of impending doom.

Regular newborn becoming a Red Imp- No, this just doesn't happen.

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The thing must have been an Elite, and those are rare. He wanted it secured, for the future. Now it was likely gone and he hates missing on an opportunity.

It has been what? Five years already... He was so busy with the fallout. The Legion of Dread suffered heavy casualties in that disaster. —Damn that fool.

But you should never let a good disaster go to waste, right? Or so he thought, but now he will have to explain himself. He was summoned.

She is a hard woman to please.

...

The darkness around him fades away as he reached his destination.

Walking the paved, tears filled streets of the realms capital he glares at the groups of succubi mingling around. They send him lascivious glances, try to entice him with their powers- and only laugh at the murder in his eyes as they go back to their gossip.

Damn vamps. They made the Garden their home after She took them in -Whatever was She thinking?

Reaching the Rose Palace he is again focused at what awaits him. Ignoring the guards he makes his way through the black halls. The unnatural darkness of this place hides many horrors, the Maidens just one of them. He knows the creepy things follow his every step, yet they appear unnaturally still, like statues. Just another decoration -Her Roses. Elite guards of this Garden of Nightmares.

He reaches the throne room under watchful gazes of the thorny abominations.

She is there, sitting on the elevated altar at the back in all her horrifying glory... But he dares not look up at her.

"Malefir! It has been way too long~" Her voice― "How have you been? You look awful. Is the Purgatory not serving you well?" She lazily drawls in a greeting.

"My queen." He takes to the knee.

"Oh spare me."―This merry, terrifying voice. "You now serve my son. Aren't you?"

He can't help but swallow at something hidden in that question.

"Speaking off. How is he?" In the periphery of his vision he can see the coils shifting as She leans forward. "I've been hearing rumors you know, seems he got in some trouble." There's mirth in her voice, but that just makes it more scary. "I guess some pruning might actually end up being good for him. Sometimes they need drastic Cut to make them grow well." A giggle makes him tense. "To make your garden beautiful."

Deep breath―

"He is recovering, my queen."

"Hahaha~! Ah, Malefir– I thought you a wise demon,." He hates it here. Damn incompetent bastards. "That is why I've sent you with them; to advise my useless son and keep an eye on him." He can feel guards hidden in the darkness stir at Her laugh.

"And yet, you still think you can hide things from me, tsk!" She is chiding him, like if he were a naughty child. And he is almost ready to Run!

He can now barely notice she is playing with something in her hands.

"But that doesn't matter anymore." He can feel Her attention is no longer at him but rather the object in her hand. And that brings Malefir immense relief. "Keep playing your amusing game, it is almost cute." Another small giggle.

"I've lost patience with my wayward son. He and the others will have to Rip what they sow." The hand lowers down. Unfortunate, since with that motion her gaze moves back to him. In her grasp he can almost see―

A piece of silk?

But there is no time to process this information.

"So you can just carry on with what you all have been cooking up there for the past few years," Her tone more serious now. "Just make sure not to step on too many toes. Orien was pissed off after what happened." She adds with a huuf!

"Yes, my queen."

He is going to live.

"Oh, but before you go..."

――——