Reborn to Devour: A Demonic LitRPG

[Vendetta]

Fire.

The cloaking heat that eternally roasted my hands and burned behind my mask; a reminder of the wrong that I committed. A child born from sin and cast in the way that sinners should. Perhaps it was more poetic to burn me than the mundane way that I actually died: a noose and a healthy peppering of rocks.

But, in the same way that it was a symbolic curse based on the last passionate action I ever performed, it was also a gift. A gift that allowed me to inflict excruciating deaths upon those that I deemed worthy of my anger. A gift that gave me the opportunity to wrench my former beloved from their position of power and comfort and render it all to ashes; handed over to a warlord that was likely worse. But, what does it matter to me is what the fate of cowards and bystanders are.

The audience is as guilty as the actors.

Fires billowed from my fingertips. The targets were a pair of black hounds that prowled through the courtyard. As soon as I knocked on the red-painted wooden doors of my destination, they sprung from the shadows to rip out my throat.

I returned that kindness and warm welcome with my own greeting. Our exchange of pleasantries created wounds that simmered and boiled blood and a scent of scorched flesh.

Even after the ruinous aftereffects to their bodies; their continually burning that made them smell like an evening kitchen of an unskilled housewife, they still tried to attack me. Snarling mouths and bloodshot eyes lunged from the darkness to exact the flesh that they believed themselves owed.

Their gnashing teeth clenched around my hands, the source of the pain that I inflicted upon them. I could see their animalistic logic in the attempt to incapacitate the fires that wounded them.

But, I had no interest in humoring these pups. With my hands lodged in their mouths, I fed them a meal of fire and smoke. Their bodies expanded and popped in wisps of smoke. I could hear whimpers and whispers. Multi-lingual shouts of humans exacting their wrath upon animals that offered love in return sizzled from their bodies.

I wondered if these voices were mirrors of those that currently dwelled the world. Was this someone who had struck an animal today or was this but the memory of an attack that occurred years before? Had anyone heard their own voice, their own moments that sealed their eternal fate played back in the death of some inconsequential creature?

Would I ever hear my own ravings emerge from some beast?

With the deaths of the dogs, the doors slowly creaked open to finally permit my entry within. I entered with my flames billowing to show my hosts my deep displeasure.

I stepped into a room that could only be described as opulent. Carpets of crimson guided me through a room of pure marble. Statues of nude muscular men covered only by fig leaves flanked my path. Paintings with red motifs covered the walls. War, triumph, madness, and all other conceivable interpretations of the color red offered the only other color within the white room.

The carpet led me up a spiral staircase up onto a mezzanine. My fingers singed the bone-colored marble and allowed me to leave my own unique mark on the room.

I turned right at the top of the stairs, following the mezzanine to a door that was tucked into the wall. More artwork resided up here that I could inspect in closer proximity. All were crafted by artists that only the Vatican or the great kings of Europe could have afforded to commission.

While they were all credited with a different name, each painting had the same label beneath. Each was a brief glimpse into each artist’s personal interpretation of the prompt.

Divinity.

Families full of smiling faces. A woman with a meek grin and a slender figure only thinly veiled by her clothing. A man dressed in all white with a wreath of green atop his head standing on a balcony over a crowd of adoring citizens. The sky opened to reveal a beautiful winged being; the light that radiated from their visage almost too much for the bearded man below to bear.

The paintings felt out of place with the depictions of suffering that existed below and the world that we inhabited at large. There were no twists to the artwork, no hidden barbs or messages or satirization that could be gleaned to call it parody or commentary. If anything, the most striking thing about the paintings was just how honest all of them seemed to be. And, in a world where happiness was wrung out with a bizarre game of climbing managed by beings that personified the paths that lead man to ruin, it felt wholly out of place.

I left the paintings alone and proceeded through the doors into another chamber. Spacious with a domed ceiling and a hole in the top to allow the “natural” light to illuminate it. Walls patterned with honeycomb shapes made the entire structure feel like a beehive.

A table sat in the center of the room. A red tablecloth draped over the sides of the table to touch the chairs with red cushions set atop them.

Steaming platters of food were left unattended atop the table. Smells and presentations that far exceeded the noodle-house Ishmael took us to fill my nose. However, the noodle-house did teach me something important. I could see it in the way that there were no animal carcasses present. No identifiable bones remained that could tell the diner of what protein they were partaking in, just that it was dressed in an appetizing way.

“Do you feel no desire to indulge?” A voice wondered.

“Does a person walk into someone else’s home and simply start eating their dinner?” I asked in kind. “Going by how you treat guests who knock at your doors, it does not surprise that you expect little of your guests.”

An echoing laugh filled the dome, obscuring the source. One of the chairs slid out from the table, inviting me to sit atop it.

“Then, please feel free to eat,” the voice said. “I will join you shortly.”

I sat down and started eating. Exquisite flavors coated my tongue. Rich broths and airy breads complimented perfectly cooked meats. It far exceeded anything that I had ever eaten in life. These were dishes reserved for nobility and wealthy merchant families using spices delivered from distant countries.

I felt like a guest of the Emperor of Rome’s feast. Without the need for hunger, there was no feeling of being full. Instead of vomitoriums to expel the excess food and keep eating. I was a bottomless pit that could swallow the entire table hundreds of times over if I so desire.

“A voracious appetite,” the voice complimented. “But, perhaps a little too trusting of our invitation and the contents of the meal as a whole.”

“There are no animals in Hell,” I replied plainly. “And, I wouldn’t entertain an invitation from a demon who seemed to be the type to require poisoning. Was I mistaken?”

“No, you were not mistaken,” the voice answered.

I heard the doors open behind me. I turned my head around to see a long-bodied serpent slither across the floor towards me. Its tongue flickered, tasting the air.

I rose to my feet, a small burst of flame exiting my fingers before a voice entered directly into my head.

“Calm yourself,” the snake instructed. “This is but a vessel for me to communicate with you. Do not fret. In this building, there is just you and me.”

“Are you the Demon in Red?” I asked.

“No, no,” the snake replied with a shake of its head. “The Demon in Red is, unfortunately, too busy to be able to meet with you. Matters in the higher realms have begun to be quite…demanding. They did offer their condolences that there would not be a meeting and have given me some notes to ensure that I speak to you about to determine whether or not you are made of the right stuff to gain entrance into our little covenant.”

“I should be saying the same of you,” I replied. “You must know that I have had a complicated past with authority. Are you demons worth serving?”

The snake seemed unbothered by my retorts. Its reptilian face was unable to express the emotions of the person that transmitted their voice through it.

It slithered closer. The length was enough to wrap fully around the table and have its head and tail rest at the same end. Its head rested dangerously close to my body and its tongue flickered out adventurously into my flames.

“That is acceptable,” the voice agreed. “I came from a time where you either served your lord or worked as a mercenary. I hear that, nowadays, people are able to choose their labor more freely. Is there a question that you already have in mind?”

“I would like to know what attributes the Demon in Red chose me for,” I said simply.

“There are a few things that I do not wish to say on my Master’s behalf, but that is something that I am able to answer,” the voice inside the snake said. “Firstly, you both call the same peninsula in Europe your home. Though, it had different names when you lived there. The Demon in Red has a preference from people who came from their nation. Basil, their current primary disciple, also hails from the same place. They say that having recruits of a similar region creates cultural alignment.”

“Is that it?”

“Of course not. You created your own organization. You showed unwavering determination to accomplish a difficult to achieve goal. You made deals that did not disadvantage you and learned when to leave while you were ahead. Of all the demons that recently rose from the lower rungs, you have tremendous upside. But, that upside comes with a great deal of caveats.”

“Caveats?” I asked, taking a bite of food. “Is there something about me that makes me inferior to Basil?”

“Yes,” the snake answered callously. “Basil, for one, has yet to die. He is prolific at killing boss monsters. He is obedient; he will go where we say when we say and do what we say without asking questions. He is to be raised to be an ideal companion and bodyguard to the Demon in Red and, as such, requires a higher level of attention. You, however, are cynical, guarded, and untrusting. Our greater attention will only earn your ire. A mishandled reward or order you disagree with may quickly remove you from our side. I perceive you as, in a word, temperamental.”

At least they were honest. I would have gotten up and left if they were simple flatterers that looked to exploit ego in exchange for cooperation. I saw glimpses of Basil and I perceived him as a gladiator; one suited to kill and inspire adoration while doing it, but he was not made of greater stuff than that.

“So, you have some worries about me?”

“We do. Namely, what will drive you now that you have defeated the object of your passion, your obsession? We understand that you fled to this realm to avoid an inevitable knife to the back. Now, we would like to know your aspirations.”

A small puff of smoke left my eyeholes. I raised my burning hands near my chapped lips, the eternal smell of cooking bones wafted into my nose.

“It’s a question that I had not had long to consider,” I answered truthfully. “The only revenge I could get now is to find a way to kill Mikha’el as well. With that, it would be the final nail in Armaros’ coffin; the last light of hope I can take from him.”

“Ah, the fallen angel,” the snake hissed back. “You would need to have power that rivals the Demon in Red to achieve that goal. Centuries of fighting without any sense of progress stands in your way to even be close to that goal. In fact, Mikha’el is closer to conquering Hell than you are to even catching a glimpse of him.”

“You’re not stopping him?”

That got a reaction out of the snake. The creature opened its mouth and showed its fangs at me. Its head moved side to side in a hypnotic pattern.

“Why do you think that the Demon in Red is unable to meet you?” The snake snapped.

“What would the Demon in Red do if they were to conquer Hell themselves?”

“They wouldn’t do anything,” the snake answered, calming down. “The Demon in Red merely wishes to preserve Hell in its current version. A good compatriot of theirs took the throne last and built it in the way that they desired. We are currently members of the status quo party of the elite demons. The current system serves us just fine.”

“Is that so?” I asked, able to list off ten dissatisfactions I had with this place if I were asked to.

“It is so. There is something else that I wished to ask you. What would you do if you were to discover that Armaros is free in the third rung?”

My hands slammed into the table, igniting the red tablecloth. My eyeholes turned into miniature volcanos. My mind seethed, swimming in a pot of boiling water.

“That is not possible,” I stated.

“It is possible,” the snake answered sharply. “Your hedonistic dragon ally that you left your former realm to the mercy of has already fallen apart. Retainers and allies that expected to be rewarded with kingdoms of their own found their hands empty of rewards. They combined with the remaining factions that still survived and plunged the entire realm into a place that overflows with blood. Armaros has escaped his captivity and is looking to restore Brunswick to a recruiting center for his angelic liege. If he were to ever set foot above his station, what would you do? Will you consider allowing him to dominate your afterlife?”

My fires grew further. He needed to die. He needed to die far more than what had been delivered from him. Brunswick needed to stay dead, his reputation needed to stay tarnished, his true self needed to remain unveiled for the world to see. And, if fate was not going to ensure it, I would need to be the one that I had to do it. I had to do everything in my power to make this afterlife the Hell that he deserved.

But, was that all my existence was intended to be? Forever tied to this man that I never want to see again. Will I continue to define myself by him or was there a better way?

“I don’t know,” I answered both the snake’s question and all the ones that burbled in my head. “He deserved worse than what he’s been given, but how long should I devote my afterlife to him? Wouldn’t I be able to unleash far greater punishment from above?”

The snake unfurled itself from around the table and started to make its way back towards the door. I wondered if I had made a mistake.

“It is good that you answered honestly. As such, we would like to give you a task to prove your abilities outside of combat,” the snake said. “Build a new organization and make it well-known throughout the third rung.”

“I will try to do so, but I must know for what purpose.”

“We believe that the best way to grow our power is to develop elites and allow them to naturally grow their own petty kingdoms staffed with their own people. We task you to begin your own organization, grow it, and incorporate it with our own. If you request resources, please return to this manor and ask me directly.”

“I will endeavor to do as you’ve asked.”

“Good. And please, try not to abandon these ones.”