It took the other would-be rescuers an embarrassing amount of time to catch up to Mammon, and by the time they arrived at the location the demon pointed out, he had already moved the kidnapped children out. They were still unconscious, but Mammon had the presence of mind to bundle them up together near a bonfire. Next to the kids was a badly burnt and beaten-up individual, barely clinging to consciousness.
“You’re finally here,” the demon muttered.
The men ran up and bowed down to the demon once they saw the children safe. “We apologize, sir! There were some men who attacked us on the way here, but we’ve taken care of it.!”
Mammon looked up and saw that the men and women did look a bit scuffed up, but he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I’ve already taken care of the situation here. Get the kids back, and find a doctor or medic to check on them.”
The hired help nodded immediately.
“And get this man secured,” the demon continued, “He’s the only survivor of the gang who did all of this, and I’m sure the other victim’s families would want to know what happened. We’ll interrogate him tomorrow, the others deserve to know who’s responsible for this mess. Get someone to check up on him as well, we can’t have him dying before then.”
“As you will, Master Amon!” the leader of the bodyguards half-shouted, “And your injuries…”
Mammon frowned, but as he looked down, he saw why the men were concerned. His once pristine clothes were tattered and burnt, and small scratches and wounds covered his body. The worst one was his chest, where he had taken that blade through the heart. It was still bleeding profusely, which he supposed explained the lightheadedness he felt. Mammon inwardly cursed at the frailty of the human body, even if he could augment it past mortal limits.
“I’m fine,” the demon grunted, “Take the children for now.”
“But-”
“Now!”
The men flinched. “Yes sir!”
The guards moved with haste, not wanting to anger the man who single-handedly rescued the kidnapped noble children. From the sheer destruction strewn about and the still lingering smell of burning bodies, no one wanted to risk annoying the powerful magician. Before long, the men had secured the children and the hostage and saluted Mammon one last time.
“We are good to go, sir,” their leader said, “Are you sure-”
“I am sure,” Mammon grumbled, “Leave me be. Tell the others what happened, and ensure that nothing else goes wrong. I will catch up with you in a bit. I need some time to recover.”
“As you will, sir Amon,” the man answered, but he still looked concerned as he saw the blood continue to ooze down Mammon’s chest, “Just… please take care. I know sir Wren will be troubled if you are too injured.”
The demon nodded. “Just go.”
Mammon slumped on the ground once he was sure that all of the humans had gone. Even the local bums weren’t stupid enough to stay in the area, and the demon was truly alone at that moment, allowing him a moment of peace and quiet. More importantly, it allowed him to show a moment of weakness. The wounds that Mammon suffered were not fatal, but they were more severe than he initially thought. Now that his rage had subsided and that strange crimson energy left his body, the demon was left feeling pitifully weak. He had truly expended himself back there, caring little about the aftermath of his actions, and he was paying for those choices now. He couldn’t even will his body to heal, and so, Mammon could only lie there bitterly.
He cursed at himself for allowing his Wrath to take over all reason and logic. That was not the Archdemon of Greed’s way, and he had always looked down on those idiot Wrath demons for their shortsightedness. Well, he was one of those shortsighted fools now, his body so bereft of energy that he could hardly move.
Worse yet, now that Wren’s safety was secured, he saw that the powerful red-hot rage he felt before had subsided and disappeared. No matter how much he tried, the demon simply could not access that well of power from earlier, not in the same way that he could use his Greed abilities. That was to be expected, Mammon supposed, as he was still a novice to the Sin of Wrath; he had to take some time to understand these new abilities of his and their associated Sin, because he could not afford to be placed in a similar predicament as he was in now, nor could he allow all reason to leave him once he tapped into those powers.
Stolen story; please report.
Mammon shuddered at the thought of turning into a crazed berzerker again, or worse, what if he tapped into the other sins and became as depraved as those horrible incubi or obese gluttons? Mammon couldn’t live with the shame if he ever became lost in those base pleasures. Speaking of the other sins, the CEO of Hell laughed as he contemplated his current situation.
He had been too Prideful to seek help - the one Sin that all demons knew too well since their fall - and now he was freezing in some slum, unable even to walk home. Yet even now, the thought of seeking outside assistance was still something that Mammon couldn’t bring himself to do, much to his detriment, but he supposed that’s just what it meant to be a denizen of Hell. Without Pride, there wouldn’t have been a fall, and Mammon supposed he owed his very existence that primal Sin. Pity it didn’t seem to give him any new abilities.
Just as Mammon was resigned to accept his fate of freezing here until he recovered enough energy to heal his wounds, an unexpected guest came to relieve him from this fate. A shimmering in the light, a slight distortion of the shadows around him was the only indication that a new presence was here.
“Dust?” Mammon muttered incredulously, “What are you doing here?”
“Thought you might need help,” she whispered, but the demon could hear just a hint of amusement in her otherwise empty voice.
The demon frowned, Dust didn’t appear like the type to go out of her way to help him out like that.
“But I’m here to report the completion of the task,” she continued and held a hand for Mammon to hold, “I’ve found traces of the mage. Same traces lead here.”
The demon might be prideful, but he didn’t see the point in rejecting his subordinate’s offer of help now. He took the hand and leaned onto the seemingly fragile girl. She was a lot stronger than he originally thought.
“So the same bastard’s responsible for this,” Mammon began, but shook his head, “No, someone that powerful wouldn’t resort to something this petty. It’s more likely that they’re helping out the people responsible, it would explain why it was so damned hard to find their hideout.”
“Can’t be sure.” Dust shrugged. “You destroyed the evidence.”
“Right…” Once again the demon was bashed in the head with the consequences of his earlier actions. It would have been better to just stick with Greed!
“I’ll give you a full report at the base,” Dust continued, “You need rest.”
Mammon sighed. “I wish I could do that, but there’s a party full of royal assholes that need to be placated first. Drop me off at my house first.”
The girl nodded. “Hold on.”
Before the demon could agree, Dust grabbed onto his waist and disappeared into a nearby shadow. Travelling this way was… different, Mammon supposed. It was like they were jumping between bits of darkness, dashing from shadow to shadow in a very disorienting way, but the demon couldn’t fault the speed. It took Mammon close to an hour to reach this part of town, but it only took Dust five minutes to go back. She dropped him off at his room and left without another word.
Mammon groaned as he forced his up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he peeled off the charred and blood soaked clothing so that he could properly assess the damage. The demon frowned as he saw that although the smaller hurts were healing just fine, the stab wound in his chest was still raw. He tried to will it closed, but his flesh simply did not listen. Mammon gritted his teeth and tried to find out why.
He submerged himself back into his mind, and to his relief, it appeared that his soul was unaltered. The once blazing fruit that represented Wrath had withered, sure, but it was not gone, and the demon knew that he could reawaken that power if he only understood the Sin better. No, the source of his woes didn’t lie here, but where could it be…
On and on Mammon wandered, unable to find the malady that plagued him. It took him almost a full hour before he understood something. It was exactly the absence of something that was the problem! Mammon had long since used what little connections he had with Hell to fuel his shape changing capabilities, but he simply could not feel that connection any longer… no, it was there, but it was so small that it might have not existed at all. That was concerning.
The CEO of Hell opened his eyes once more and frowned at the wound. He tried to shift back into his other forms, and was relieved that he could go between the three easily enough, but whatever damage he sustained remained even when he shifted. But… there was other implications to this; Mammon was not a creature of flesh and blood, as evident by the fact that he just had his heart destroyed, so what would it mean if he couldn’t manipulate his earthly body any more?
Did that mean that he was trapped in a mortal shell, albeit a very sturdy one, forever? No, there was too many unknowns, too many different powers at play, he couldn’t make rash judgments so quickly. The only thing that Mammon needed to know now was that his flesh was not immutable, and he had to master these new abilities fast, because with his connection with Hell all but severed, he couldn’t rely on his old tricks to survive. Now that he’s pissed off a formidable mage, for surely that individual noticed Mammon after his hubris, this need was amplified several fold.
Mammon shook his head and redoubled his focus. All of those things could wait for the future, he still had things he needed to do right this moment. The demon stripped out of the rest of his clothing and forced himself into the bathtub, where he took the next fifteen minutes scrubbing off the worst of the burnt skin and charred ash from his body. Once he was certain that he was thoroughly clean, he took a bandage from the medical cabinet and did his best to tend to the worst of his wounds. The demon chuckled at his situation, he had only bought medical goods to use on his victims so that they didn’t die too quickly, and he never thought he’d have to use them himself. Oh how times have changed.
Once everything was done and Mammon had regained enough energy to at least walk, he got dressed and left to see what the situation was at Wren’s party. He was still weak, miserably so, but at least he could hide the worst of it for now. He couldn’t afford to show any weakness, not in these desperate times, and certainly not when he was vying to garner more power. He could only hope that his body would last long enough for all of that.