Baal was a demon.

He originated from a place beyond, invisible to all physical means. Indiscoverable by the Incandestine.

He possessed memories so ancient that only recollection could be recalled, like one with aphantasia seeing words on the page. He knew the meaning but was unable to generate any specific imagery associated with his memories.

In that recollection, Baal ‘remembered’ his first breath on Apolaphia, taken through the blood-filled lungs of a bare-chested young human boy, no older than ten summers. Recently deceased eyes observed a sizeable crowd of shrivelled humans.

The child had been sacrificed, an offering to end the famine that plagued the lands; a reagent to activate a spell to summon the God of Fertility through ADAM’s power.

Baal may not have been a God in the eyes of future scholars, but he did possess great power. And with that power, the child Baal summoned rain, storm, thunder and volcano, enriching the dead, dry, sterile earth. It bore fruit. He made it so.

For his deeds, Baal demanded praises. Praises that were freely given. He was their God. And with each word of exaltation, each thought of admiration, each prayer of gratitude, the demon grew in power. And with each deed, his followers grew in number.

But just as every empire does, Baal’s began to slowly crumble and fall into ruin. So, the demon did what he had to in order to keep what he was owed. He corralled his people and forced them to sacrifice themselves in his honour. Blood-fueled, magical rituals to become eternal, ethereal fuel; to become an eternity worshipping the one who had given them a life free of hunger.

So it was. And Baal took these faithful souls and used them as the ore from which he wrought his new form; one that inspired fear and appeared as inextinguishable fire.

But of course, this was just the beginning. The more people knew of his exploits, the greater his power. Recognition, fear, praise. All of these things only further increased Baal’s power. And if there was one thing Baal enjoyed, it was power. Indeed, he had long since known that it was the only thing he desired. It was his reason for existence. He was a demon. He was powerful. It was who he was; it was his identity.

Baal learned that being acknowledged by beings of greater power only compounded the effects of their thoughts and actions, granting him more power in return.

Though he could not be killed, Baal’s physical form could be destroyed, sending his soul back to the realm from which it came. Over countless aeons, the demon reforged his form, updating it with the latest in scientific and magical technology. Even if his nigh-indestructible form was to be felled by some great miracle, numerous contingencies were already in place, hidden all throughout Apolaphia, and even throughout the greater universe. No matter what happened, Baal’s visit to his primordial ‘home’ would be exceedingly brief, as his contingencies would automatically recall him back to ‘life’ in the common universe.

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Indeed, the demon was eventually killed, but upon returning to life and exacting his revenge, Baal found that his death, rebirth, and revenge had only served to further his great power. His legend grew.

For a time, Baal contented himself in building a great castle and enslaving the surrounding citizens, existing merely as a villain to be felled by the great heroes of the age. Every thousand years, someone would succeed; even if only by the demon’s complacency and boredom. Eventually, all of Apolaphia knew of the Demon King, and he had managed to attract some truly dangerous attention; An alliance of magicians had designed a spell that would erase the concept of ‘Baal’ from the minds of all who desired it, setting the demon back hundreds of thousands of years.

That would not do. That would not do at all.

And so, Baal had built a magical fortress atop the world’s highest peaks. A network of countless spires, winding streets, corridors and chambers. And to that fortress, the Demon King had graciously welcomed all who desired power; those who lived as he did.

And so the great and terrible crown, Tenebria Coronum had been born.

The Coronum was useful not only as a means to further his legend but also as a means for the Demon King to monitor the development of magic and keep it under his watchful eye. He feigned weakness, hiding the true magnitude of his powers, letting himself be known merely as a ‘demon’, his true identity having been lost to time. Indeed, he even let others bear the title of ‘Lord’ alongside him. It did not matter if they knew how powerful he was, only that his presence be acknowledged.

In the past, the Demon King had been content with all the power given to him by Apolaphia. He had been content in his little power struggles. A game to be played to maintain his position at the top of the food chain.

So, what had changed the immortal being’s mind?

It was the arrival of the Intercessor that had opened the demon’s eyes. Until that fateful moment, Baal had been a fish content with the pond. But having been exposed to the richness of the ocean, the demon could not sit idly by on his laurels, engaging in petty power struggles. There were more worlds to conquer. Nay, an entire universe to conquer. And, restless after countless aeons of sitting at the top, he could not wait an extra moment to seize the power he so desired.

And so, he had bet everything and entered the Labyrinth. Though of course, Baal had the utmost confidence that ADAM’s test would be nothing more than an easy distraction. He could not die, and he could not be banished. He was undefeatable. Though ADAM’s power was arguably greater than his own, Baal knew that ADAM was not some righteous God with a vision for the world. ADAM was a servant who would only serve their purpose; to grant wishes. If Baal so chose, he could escape from whatever sentence they passed upon him. He was inevitable.

So, how was ADAM to effectively test a being such as this?