image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]

Deep within the confines of the Infernal Treasury, an architectural marvel deemed one of the three wonders of the demon world, the walls gleamed with an eerie crimson hue, fashioned from bricks forged in the heart of hellfire. Towering ominously, the edifice spanned three to four floors, its ceiling seemingly lost in the abyss. This vast storage lay concealed beneath the very foundations of the infernal citadel.

My presence here was no unfamiliar matter, tracing back to the annals of the First Age. A vow had been made then – a pledge to seal the vaults and never disturb their sanctity. Within these vaults lay a hoard of golden treasures, glittering and alluring, yet of little value to the demonic denizens. For our economy thrived on the currency of power and dominance, a realm where arms and supremacy reigned supreme over mundane exchanges.

But what good are vows if not to be broken?

The gold had accumulated over time, gathering dust, a testament to my role as the grand ruler of the underworld. A sentiment resonated deep within me – perhaps someday, these treasures might find utility, a purpose beyond their opulent gleam. Still, the notion of returning to this place had never crossed my mind.

The vault's imposing gates swung open, a yawning abyss beckoning Alpos and me into its depths. A grandeur of gold stretched as far as the eye could fathom, a dazzling sprawl ranging from coins to meticulously golden bars, and from battle-worn weapons to arcane relics of forgotten eras. It was a sight to behold, a visual symphony of wealth. I had set about collecting these relics in hopes of one day they would be of use and the time had come.

The treasury comprised three distinct sections. The first floor housed valuable items such as gold, alongside weapons considered ineffective. Deeper within, on the second and third levels, lay the repository of arcane magical artifacts. These relics, remnants of a bygone era, had been meticulously gathered as part of my quest to attain greater power. However, despite my best efforts, my endeavors yielded naught but failure. However, through these pursuits, I gleaned a profound understanding of the workings of this world's magic and even unearthed secrets related to ascension. It was from the runes I had uncovered that the concept of fusing my abilities with the void orb emerged—a notion that promised heightened power and led me to my current course.

Yet with the powers I held at my command now, the runes were no longer of any use to me.

Beside me stood Alpos, an embodiment of awe in a place he had not ventured for epochs. The gold exuded a radiance that seemed to transcend the material realm, its allure tugging at our very essence.

"My lord," Alpos began, his voice a blend of curiosity and reverence, "might I inquire as to the purpose of our return to this storied chamber?"

"Indeed," I responded, masking my true intent behind a facade of calculated authority.

To admit my yearning for a comfortable life amidst the human world would be met with skepticism by Alpos, a faithful lieutenant whose conviction was unwavering. I needed an alternative explanation, a cause that resonated with his loyalty while maintaining my image as a powerful ruler.

"I am gathering the resources necessary for our conquest." I declared, each word carefully weighed.

Alpos' eyes glinted with curiosity, "Conquest, my lord? How does a hoard of gold contribute to our endeavors?"

"As you are well aware, our ranks have thinned considerably. It is imperative that we exercise caution and avoid impulsive actions. The vision I hold entails the utilization of the precious gold concealed within these chambers. I intend to transport this gold to the mortal realm, utilizing the funds to establish a firm foothold within the realm of demi-humans."

Alpos appeared visibly surprised by my proclamation, indicating that there were discrepancies he was grappling with.

"I perceive a sense of uncertainty in you. Fret not. My preparations are in place. If circumstances unfold favorably, we will secure dominion over the entire expanse of the southern continent."

"But, my lord, the southern continent is a desolate wasteland."

"Your perception is mistaken, Alpos."

Once again, a fleeting moment of confusion crossed Alpos' countenance, his gaze imploring an explanation.

"The southern continent has transformed into a verdant and vibrant land, teeming with potential."

"How is such a transformation conceivable?"

"Their King is responsible... He wields incredible powers, ones capable of rejuvenating the land itself."

"Is not this the domain of the druids? The very ones we eradicated during the second age?"

"Indeed, you are correct. A handful of them managed to survive the purge... Interestingly, this turn of events might play to our advantage, for while they possess knowledge of land preservation, they remain oblivious to the needs of the populace."

"If you speak it, my lord, then I hold it as truth."

My focus shifted to the vast expanse of the treasury before me.

"Task some of our most trusted agents with the responsibility of segregating a sum of five hundred thousand gold coins from the vault."

"It shall be carried out as you command, my lord."

"See it so."

My gaze shifted to the vast expense of gold before us, my mind was left to wonder. Would Arbos prove worthy of all this effort?

"My lord, might I impose upon you with a humble question?" inquired Alpos.

"You have my attention. Speak."

"My lord, I merely seek to fathom the extent of your greatness. However, I can't help but wonder, given the formidable power you've amassed, could you not challenge the heavens alone?"

The thought did cross my mind...

"I would presume not... We don't know of what powers they have yet hidden. It would be foolhardy to march to heaven without knowing their capabilities... If they haven't advanced over the past two years, it's possible that I could, but I highly doubt that they would be foolish enough to wait without improvement."

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"I understand," Alpos replied, his eyes darting off to the treasury itself. "My lord, did we solely come to the treasury for the amassed gold? Is there nothing else?"

"Are you implying something, Alpos?"

"My lord, I respectfully propose that we make comprehensive use of the treasury. The armaments stored here, while modest, could prove remarkably effective in our endeavors."

"Deploy the armaments? But these weapons are far too powerful for the average imp to wield."

"While they may not suit ordinary Imps, I believe I could make effective use of them."

"I see, do you have a particular weapon in mind?"

He must have spent considerable time here to have a specific weapon in his sights. Still, he's chosen to seek permission.

"Yes, my lord. I'm interested in harnessing the Impurity of Magic."

Ah, that staff... I distinctly remember crafting that staff myself... However, its practicality was limited, given that its very name alludes to its instability...

Nevertheless, the very instability of the magic within the staff renders it immensely potent under specific conditions.

"Are you familiar with the attributes of this staff?"

"Yes, my lord, I possess knowledge of its properties. It is a staff of extraordinary might, granting its wielder the ability to unleash fifth-tier fire magic, all without depleting the wielder's mana."

Impressively well-informed...

"Very well... Claim the staff for yourself... Utilize it to its fullest potential."

"I shall do so, my lord."

Turning, I made my way towards the exit, leaving Alpos behind within the treasury.

The staff has a chance to explode... perhaps I should have mentioned it to him... Oh well, if he is weak enough to die from it then it's of no matter.

image [https://i.imgur.com/7fgH3qs.png]

Within a dimly lit chamber, the very embodiment of a dungeon's aesthetics was evident: moss-covered stone bricks composed its structure. A central sewer system flowed with water, cutting through the heart of the room.

In this very chamber, a solitary figure endured captivity. A young girl, her eyes vacant of vitality. Her wings were cruelly affixed to the wall behind her, tattered and riddled with holes. Bloodstained feathers adorned her plight, securing her in place alongside shackles binding her feet, suppressing even the slightest movement.

Her visage portrayed defeat and sorrow, an expression void of expression.

Amidst the dimness, her eyes remained open, yet silence prevailed. No observers, no conversational partners. She was utterly alone. Helpless and defenseless, left to the confines of her mind, the darkness consumed her.

The entrance to the dungeon, crafted from reinforced wood and steel, occupied one wall. The door bore a rustic quality, its scent mingling with the air.

Yet, from beyond the door, footsteps drew near.

Her eyes, half-lidded, detected the sound of three distinct sets of footsteps nearing.

The door swung open.

Draped in a verdant cloak, her face unobscured, an elegant elf, her lengthy ears a testament to her heritage, entered the room, making her way to the girl.

Despite all this, the girl's silence held steady. She observed meticulously as the woman advanced, the torch casting its glow upon her.

"Mila Ashenhaul?"

The woman's words were softly spoken, her gaze fixed on the girl's tattered wings and broken spirit.

"I presume you are her?"

A weighty silence enshrouded the room. Recognizing Mila's unwillingness to cooperate, the woman retrieved a keychain, an array of keys dangling from it.

"I was sent here to free you from the confines of this chamber."

Mila's face lifted in a sluggish motion, her lips contorting to allow words to escape.

"I am not Ashenhaul."

Her voice came off as one of anger and disdain, her eyes glowed with fury, directed at Grismala. it was as if the voice of the Demon God was conveyed through her, a terrifying prospect.

In surprise, the woman's eyes widened, her focus swiftly shifting to Mila. Mila's words caught her off guard, yet the woman maintained her composed demeanor.

"Then who are you? If not Ashenhaul, for what reason do you find yourself ensnared within our confines?"

"And who might you be? What purpose do you have for reaching out to me?" Mila inquired.

She couldn't afford not to answer, for if she decided to go down that path, it would bring an end to their exchange, losing Mila's trust in an instant.

"Some deem me the Witch Queen of the Elves."

"Grismala... Is that your name?"

"You recognize it?"

"Only through fleeting conversations."

A cough seized Mila, a small spatter of blood escaping her lips as her gaze shifted to the woman. "Why have you sought me out?"

"As I mentioned, my mission was to free Mila Ashenhaul. Since you are not her, I suppose I shall depart."

With a turn, Grismala's lips curved into a smirk. She toyed with her keys, anticipation shimmering in her eyes as she awaited Mila's response.

Grismala's sadistic nature of toying with others was evident, however, she held a deeper reason for reaching out to Mila.

"He was right about you... about us... We mortals, we are disgusting..."

Mila echoed the words of the Demon God, his expressions of despair, resentment, and malevolence communicated through her.

Wheeling around, Grismala advanced swiftly, her grip on Mila's face firm as she drew her nearer. It was fear that drove her to this sudden action, and yet she lost her nerves upon hearing the words spoken. "How did you escape the void?! What pact did you form with him?!"

A laughter emerged from Mila's lips, accompanied by a fit of coughing.

"Pact? I made no pact... the Demon God, with all the power he possesses, deemed me unworthy even of demise, a wasted effort for a weakling such as I."

"Is that the truth? None have eluded his wrath. Why should you?"

"You are naive... Unaware of the formidable abilities he commands... Mere pawns in a grander scheme, and I have glimpsed the darkness he shall unleash."

Her eyes brimmed with darkness and despair, her utterances akin to the voices of the demons she had confronted. An angel she may have been, yet the darkness had pervaded every fiber of her existence.

Mila exuded an aura of ominous malevolence, resonant with the very energies of the void. Lingering remnants of the darkness she had encountered clung to her still.

"That hardly addresses my question. Why you? How did you alone survive his wrath?"

"Why don't you direct that inquiry to him... You will see him soon."

"See him soon?"

Mila's cryptic words left Grismala bewildered, even unsettled. For the first time in her extensive existence, her heart quickened in anticipation.

Mila, beset by fits of coughing, spattered blood upon the floor. The light in her eyes began to dim.

"Owl! Tiris! Fetch her," Grismala commanded her awaiting guards at the chamber's entrance.

The guards hastened into the cellar, carefully detaching Mila's wings from the wall, liberating her from the shackles, and lowering her unconscious form to the ground.

"Act swiftly. Time is short. Summon the members of the Holy Scripture to tend to her injuries."

With synchronized effort, the guards grasped Mila's torso and limbs, swiftly dragging her out of the chamber to seek treatment for her wounds.

As they departed, Grismala remained behind in the dungeon's shadows, left to ponder the words that had been conveyed to her.

"See him soon?" She echoed, her voice a murmured contemplation.

Exiting the chamber, a profound sense of foreboding overcame Grismala, causing the hairs on her body to stand erect. Those words Mila had spoken had rattled her to her very core, leaving her shaken to her essence. Yet amidst the encroaching darkness, her faith remained vigilant, pushing forth into the darkness.