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The Circle of Pride. Events unfold immediately after Season 1, but before the start of Season 2. Location: The Hotel and its immediate outskirts.
On one of the buildings, a small demon appears. It looks like a beetle, with three limbs on each side of its body. In appearance, it can only be described as a cockroach with a human head and squinting eyes. It jerks its head around, looking in all directions. Its eyes dart from building to building. The garish red colors and the abundance of blood on the roads make its body recoil from the edge of the roof. Its mouth opens in quiet derangement: "What the fu—"
An enormous chain pierces the beetle's body, crushing its head, and then a pillar of light, which seemed to shine brighter than the sun, strikes the small spot where its body had been, leaving not a trace of the tiny life that had appeared in this place.
From the light, three figures emerge. One woman, Crudy, and two men, Damian and Metu. The girl is dressed in a bright red dress with grim black inlays along the sides. Her dark hair is pulled back into a barely noticeable ponytail, and the end of the dress finishes in a short skirt, beneath which gray tights are visible. On Crudy's feet are dark boots, which look particularly sturdy compared to the rest of her clothing. Her sharp yet simultaneously joyful expression creates a picture of extreme pleasure on her face. The smile stretched wide across her visage confirmed it.
Damian looked the part alongside the woman. His clothing maintained similar black-and-red tones but lacked the tone of frivolity noticeable in her taste. It was of a strictly formal type and evoked a sense of severity that emanates from people holding high positions in a corporation. Black trousers, a shirt, and a red tie tucked behind the collar would make anyone who saw Damian adopt a slightly more restrained posture. Looking at this person's face, the contempt that had appeared in his gaze from the moment he arrived in this place was obvious. His eyes coldly rolled across the red horizon and wearily turned to the remaining member of the group.
Metu shone like a star in the night, and his face depicted a picture capable of making any artist bite their nails in admiration, for no human could ever hope to capture it. There was something magically enchanting in this visage, like the warmth of a fire on a winter evening or the embrace of a beloved person. If hope had a representative, Metu would be exactly that character. The articles of clothing on him, unlike the two other individuals who had come with him, exuded a purity and holiness befitting church servants. It was obvious that this attire had been meticulously checked for dirt or wear and then brought into scrupulous order. The robe had sparkling gold inlays, and the collar was embroidered with various forms, ranging from a cross to a crescent moon. Still, there was something in this person that united him with the other two. A sense of unintentional contempt toward this world, as if their very essence rejected the possibility of visiting this place for longer than a few minutes.
Metu was the first to announce their arrival with his sweet, melodic voice, which could rival honey in taste: "And sooo~ My dear friends… Today I have brought you—!" His voice was immediately interrupted by Damian, who was clearly indignant.
"You promised you'd show us a GOOD place, right? What the hell are we doing in this dump? There's nothing here that works properly! The only hope for this world is a shaky power structure that gets overhauled every day because of the incompetence of the people who live here!" Finishing his dismayed and angry speech, Damian fixed Metu with a gaze in which his feelings were clearly readable. The smile didn't leave Metu's face, and he stepped closer to Damian and stifled the possibility of future protests with his finger on his lips.
"Don't get so heated, sweetie! Don't you want to impose your power on this world and a little…" — Metu swept his hand through the air, then clenched his fingers in a tenacious grip — "…guide these pitiful beasts? They need your… strong and firm word~" His hand moved and began sliding from Damian's chest downward with a light motion, until Damian forcibly pulled it away and dragged it off his stomach.
At the moment when the quarrel was about to escalate into a fierce argument, a female voice spoke up: "Boys, can you not do this in front of me, huh? As much as I'd have fun watching your moaning faces, that's not why we're here. Let's get down to business…"
Damian seemed to exhale with relief, and Metu slightly furrowed his brow in a displeased grimace, but they both nodded. Metu spoke again, donning the same secular smile on his face that inspired trust in those who deserved no trust at all: "You're right as always, my friend! Surely you already know why I called you here with us. Actually, it's my sign of recognition that you—"
Crudy rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, then looked him in the eyes: "You want to help me so I'll ask you for a favor later, right? Fine, I forgive you, saint. When can I start? I see good potential in this world…" Her gaze shifted away from Metu and changed to something more greedy, like a predator watching an animal drinking at the river.
The smile on Metu's face grew even wider. His body moved forward, and he leaned a little closer to Crudy's face. His hands clasped behind his back in silent joy as he slowly said: "Don't kill everyone, alright? You can do whatever you want, except total annihilation. Good luck~"
Crudy didn't ask again, and so where she had stood, a trail of black smoke immediately appeared, vaguely resembling a silhouette, but soon it too dispersed. Metu and Damian both knew that soon this world would feel a pain it had never seen before. Their task, however, lay elsewhere.
Damian crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Metu, who was adjusting his collar with his slender fingers: "What's the plan? Should I also go off on my own, or do we have better ideas… ugh… darling…?" Hesitating at the end of the phrase, Damian stared roughly into Metu's eyes. They immediately flashed with a tender spark, one that shouldn't be underestimated merely because of its tenderness. Such a spark could become a wildfire, given a worthy cause. Damian was playing a dangerous game, for Metu was largely unpredictable.
This time, luck favored Damian enough that Metu didn't attack him right then and there. He only let out a quiet chuckle and nodded: "That's right. You're granted freedom of action, same as Crudy. Ah! I hope I don't need to tell you that—"
Damian raised his right hand, placing it before himself and cutting Metu off: "I know, I know. You don't need to talk to me like that nutcase. I'm not going to mow down people without reason… Well… I'm off…" Damian hesitated for a second before bending down and leaving a trace of a kiss on Metu's forehead. Damian's body immediately vanished, just as Crudy's had done earlier.
It certainly wasn't without effect, as a faint blush appeared on Metu's cheeks. He closed his eyes and laughed loudly toward the sky: "Hahahaha~! Wonderful! My darling is so wonderful when it comes to the little things! Hehe~ He'll have to answer for his actions later…" Metu calmed his nerves and quietly mumbled under his breath. He raised his left hand, which bore several pairs of gold rings with small gems, and snapped his fingers. His body immediately transformed into a golden haze.
Opening his little red eyes, Metu surveyed the place where he had ended up. It looked slightly more well-kept than the streets and definitely bore notes of taste and refinement. The place was small but spacious enough to accommodate a large number of people. Right now, life was bustling within it. Metu found himself right in the middle of a group of people he hadn't seen before. Giving them a cursory glance, his eyes caught the only strong individuals in the room who possessed the essence of divinity in their blood.
A girl was dressed in a red-pink suit that harmonized with a white blouse and white-and-black heeled shoes. As a result, she definitely looked like the manager of some small business. Metu made a mental note that she was the one in charge here. Also, his gaze didn't miss the unnaturally pale skin tone, nor the sense of distant holiness emanating from her. He turned his head to the other person who had caught his attention.
Red. That's the first word that comes to mind upon seeing this person. Though his clothing might seem excessive at first glance with its small details, there was a note of beauty in his style that didn't provoke revulsion at the abundance of red. Still, this person had a facial expression that was all too familiar to Metu, as it screamed of feigned pride. Such a thing was unsurprising, as this red creature possessed powers capable of protecting that pride. The face had characteristic expressiveness. It was sharpened. Not just the features, but even the teeth looked sharp, as if a wild predator, not a person, stood before Metu. This trait provoked the irritation that arose in Metu at the sight of such people.
Finishing his inspection, Metu discovered a spear tip near his neck. It nearly made him laugh, but he deigned to raise his gaze to the brave soul threatening him. He immediately saw an amusing picture before him. The girl didn't attract attention with either clothing or beauty, but a scent very familiar to Metu emanated from her. She definitely came from the Most High Kingdom. Metu even softened his demeanor slightly toward this crowd, seeing something so kindred to him.
"Now speak… Who are you and what the hell are you doing here? I haven't seen you among the residents of Hell before…" the angel woman spoke, demanding an answer from Metu. He was already prepared to politely dismiss her insistent behavior, but before he could, someone intervened in the conversation.
That same girl who seemed to be the local boss gently moved the spear tip aside with a light smile and stood before Metu with a friendliness that almost surprised him.
"No, Vaggie! Um… Hello! My name is Charlie Morningstar. I'm the manager of this hotel for the rehabilitation of sinners. May I ask your name?" Her big eyes looked at Metu with hope, which made his smile falter slightly. Metu inclined his head, smirking at such a display of innocent good-naturedness.
His voice took on a respectful tone: "Ah, a pleasure to meet you, lady. My name is Metu. I am… a newcomer to this place… There's no need to fear me. I'm sure I won't cause any trouble for such a kind person as yourself, Miss Morningstar…" Charlie appeared to be the bright type of personality who always evoked goodwill in Metu. It was almost like talking to a child who still clings to their innocent dreams and conceptions of the world.
As Metu tried to place his hand on Charlie's shoulder, he suddenly noticed an enormous surge he hadn't paid attention to before. This individual surpassed the power of everyone in this room. Metu's eyes lit up with excitement as the suffocating scent of Heaven mixed with the filth emanating from that person. Metu unconsciously placed his hand on Charlie's shoulder and squeezed it while his gaze was distracted. It seemed to make the girl named Vaggie tense up, but Metu didn't pay it much attention. He stepped back, finally breaking their contact. Now he had the opportunity to fully examine everyone present here.
They were definitely no longer human. This was confirmed not only by the persistent sensation of filth clinging to their souls but also by their physical forms, which had new limbs or mutated body parts. One of them looked like a spider, another like a cat. It was like a perversion wrought upon God's creation. Metu mechanically twisted his face in disgust. Cruel thoughts raced through his head, urging him to annihilate these beings, but he remained in place.
A voice sounded from the side: "Hey there, pal. Who are you and what are you doing next to my daughter?" Metu met the gaze of the fallen one. The smile that had vanished from his face instantly reappeared. It ignited a fire in his eyes, and he stepped between the pitiful creatures who had frozen before him. Taking a couple of steps, Metu found himself directly before a short man resembling Charlie, but with more pronounced masculine features. His hair was light, emphasizing his pale skin and bright teeth. Although his clothing represented nothing special, merely a simple light suit with pale-red lines, a sense of sadness and nostalgia emanated from these clothes. Looking at the energy radiating from this being, Metu immediately assumed that this person shared a past with Heaven, just like Vaggie, who was apparently an angel.
"Hey? Do you need something, or are you just another one of the sinners?" Listening to this being's questions, Metu let out a small sigh and then tilted his head to the side. His eyes narrowed, as if he slightly sympathized with this being. Finally, Metu sighed and stepped back to the far wall, so as to stand before everyone and deliver his speech.
"As I said earlier, my name is Metu. You may consider me a sinner if you wish… Let's introduce ourselves, shall we? I'd like to get to know such fascinating people a little better… Would you do us the honor of introducing everyone, Lady Morningstar?" Metu turned to Charlie, offering her his hand in a gallant manner that had been honed through numerous encounters with esteemed people.
As expected, she stood beside him with a smile and began pointing in turn to the beings before them. Various types of half-humans presented themselves to Metu: Angel was a spider-like being covered in white fur; Husk looked like a cat with avian features; finally, the smallest member of the team — Niffty — was a little girl with a single eye on her head. Having been introduced to everyone, Metu understood their basic character traits. He had often seen these character traits in other people, so he wasn't surprised to see an avid gambler, a prostitute, and an insane little girl.
Still, those who had previously caught Metu's attention turned out to be more interesting. Alastor was one of the most powerful demons among those living in Hell, but it seemed the recent battle with Adam, who was an archangel, had led to a weakening of his abilities. Although Charlie didn't speak of it, the pitiful form of this sinner was obvious to Metu. On the other hand, Charlie's direct father, Lucifer, was also nearby. Metu was pleasantly surprised to learn that his theory was correct, and Lucifer was indeed a fallen angel. His strength hadn't diminished, and thus clearly framed his body.
At the end of Charlie's speech, she announced her idea for the hotel. Metu burst into loud laughter, but surprisingly, this sound carried no coquettishness. It was as pure as her idea. When she was about to say something, he took her hands and cheerfully looked into her eyes: "Excellent! Simply wonderful! Haha! You know, I didn't think there'd be such a good person as you in this place!"
"Eh..? Thank you, sir! So, you want to join the hotel and help us? That's great news! We actually just recently restored the hotel. It looks better than ever!" She waved her hand around as Metu's eyes slid over the furniture filling the guest hall. It didn't look old, but on the contrary, seemed surprisingly well-kept and beautiful.
Metu nodded with a light smile playing on his lips: "You have a wonderful atmosphere here, dear Lady Morningstar. But, I would like to say that your plan is progressing by leaps and bounds… Ahem… I propose—"
He was interrupted again. Metu was already irritated enough at having to be in the company of such lowly beings as these sinners, and now they had interrupted him as well…
Angel stepped closer: "Wait, wait, baby. You still haven't told us anything. What's your business in Hell? You kill someone on Earth? Or something dirtier?" At the sight of this mocking smile, Metu restrained his desire to cleanse this world of his presence, which, fortunately for those present, was successful.
"Ahem… Mister Angel Dust… Yes, I ended up here for… murder. I killed people like you. Many like you… I believe that sinners should be DESTROYED…" Metu took Angel's throat in his hand and squeezed between his fingers. Immediately, the others rushed toward him, trying to pull him away, but without success.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Wait, sir! The hotel is not a place for fighting! I'm sure if you and Angel talk, we won't have to go this far!" Charlie's voice made Metu release the throat of the filthy whore, who threw a few strangled curses at him.
"Ah, I beg your pardon. It's merely a habit from the past. My apologies, Mister Angel… In the future, I'll ask you not to interrupt me…" Metu looked into Angel's eyes not without a shadow of threat, and Angel turned his face away.
Charlie exhaled and then spoke again: "Alright. So, you seemed to be saying something about my plan to purify sinners and send them to Heaven, right?" Her eyes seemed to burn as she spoke of it, but a glimmer of sadness was noticeable in them.
"Yes, yes, you're right. It seems someone died on your side recently, didn't they?" His gaze didn't miss the change on Charlie's face. It was surprisingly expressive for a person living in Hell. Metu continued: "I want to tell you that your idea was successful… Yes, that's right. Your dear friend is now… upstairs. Mmm~" Metu's lips stretched wider as Charlie heard this. The reaction was exactly what he wanted. An abundance of joy, relief, and sadness mixed on her face, and tears flowed from her eyes.
"B-but how do you—" Metu snapped his fingers and showed them an image. On it was a small serpentine person, whose skin looked bluish, and whose clothing was entirely white. Charlie grabbed the edges of the image and happily embraced the floating picture. Metu covered his face with his hand and let out a quiet laugh.
In the moment of her distraction, Metu began to speak. His voice was quiet at first, then began to swell: "Sinners… You've managed to achieve success in this difficult endeavor, but tell me… Do you really believe that each of you deserves this? Right now, thousands just like you are losing their lives because of internecine strife… Are those who kill others even in Hell worthy of salvation? They destroy people just like your dear friend. Those who could go to Heaven… Some are simply incapable of changing… Isn't that right, Mister Alastor?" Metu turned his gaze to the red demon who still stood behind everyone in this crowd. His unchanging smile didn't waver.
Without allowing any of them to cut into his speech, Metu continued, addressing each in turn: "Haven't your friends, acquaintances, or partners been killed? Haven't you seen how malicious sinners or angels destroy your friends while you stood by helplessly and watched? Why should you tolerate all these maniacs surrounding you and depriving you of the right to live? Terrible!" Then, none other than Lucifer himself addressed Metu. Metu decided he was worthy of being heard out. Maybe there would be a shred of sense in his words.
"Well, well, well, listen. I understand what you're trying to say. I'm not too happy either that so many horrible people gather in Hell, but what can we wish for? If we just start destroying anyone who seems evil to us, would there be any meaning in that? I'm sure some of us have done exactly that…" Lucifer turned his gaze to the Radio Demon, then continued: "No one in Hell has the ability to kill that many sinners. It would just be genocide, like the one Heaven started!"
Metu listened to the final phrase of the fallen angel, then nodded. He understood his concerns and also saw how limited he was in his own capabilities: "As expected… But tell me, should your daughter really live in a world where all sorts of… creatures… capable of killing her walk around everywhere? Will you always be ready to save her? And what if something happens to you? Will her friends be enough? I know you're afraid, Morningstar. You're a father… I offer my help…"
Charlie stood in front of Metu, tearing herself away from the screen: "What you've shown us is wonderful news! If Pentious is truly in Heaven, then the rehabilitation of sinners is truly possible! If we show this to all of Hell, crowds of people will come to us, which means—!" Metu pressed his finger to her lips, trying to stifle her rising excitement.
"Miss Morningstar, allow me to speak with your staff, alright? I have a couple of questions I'd like to ask your father and the others… If you don't mind, I'd ask you to take a walk somewhere else… I ask that only Lucifer, Alastor, and Mister Husk remain… I have no business with the rest. I assume you have things to discuss…" Metu clapped his hands and then moved toward the bar counter, sitting on one of the stools. He began to slowly wait for the others to finish their conversation, agitated by his news.
Finally, after some time, the beings he had selected approached him. Husk lazily stepped behind the counter, and the other two sat down on either side of him. Metu turned his head toward Lucifer: "As I can imagine, you've never seen a sinner be purified before, right? Haha, I can see that's true! So your daughter's idea does work!"
Lucifer awkwardly scratched his head: "Um.. Well.. Of course, it works! I never doubted her idea… well, maybe a little… It's absolutely unreal.. Ah! How could something like this even happen?! In all my thousands of years, I've never seen this! Gods, my Charlie is definitely going to become super famous! This is—"
Metu slowly turned away from Lucifer, who was spilling his feelings in surprise. He met eyes with the one he hated most of all. Alastor. The maniacal murderer himself. Metu sat in a half-turn so Husk could hear: "Mister Alastor… The great and terrible Radio Demon. The one who kills sinners and Overlords… Haha, the price of your power is so laughable… Your leash is nearly longer than the one on Mister Husk… Are you also someone's pet?"
It seemed the words produced no effect on Alastor other than a small amount of interest, but Metu didn't want to see his reaction at all. That wasn't what he needed. Metu shifted his gaze to Husk: "Sir, I assume you're here because of your vow binding you to this demon, yes? I can free you. Honestly. I sympathize with you from the bottom of my heart. You committed the most painless sin. Cards aren't so terrible… Haha. I suppose Mister Alastor wouldn't be so happy for you to be freed from his control…" Husk didn't agree right away, but he looked at Metu skeptically. Obviously, such an offer was too enchanting to be true.
"Listen, buddy, I don't know who you are, but you'd better not run your mouth like that around—" Metu waved his hand. He confirmed that the King of Hell had already gone off on his own business, which Metu had no interest in, leaving the three of them. It seemed Alastor was ready to intervene and say something, but…
"I've had enough. I held back while Charlie was around, but you don't deserve redemption… Farewell, Alastor."
A quiet click sounded in the room. It was barely audible, but seemed to drown out all other sounds. Light spilled over the spot where the Radio Demon had been. He was no longer there. Not a single piece of dust remained where the most powerful sinner in Hell had stood.
Husk looked around several times, then stared at the spot where his master had been sitting. Emptiness. He hadn't vanished, as before. He had been annihilated. Killed. A surprised exclamation escaped his mouth: "What the hell…" Husk looked at Metu's face, which was relaxed, humming a melody under his breath. Husk felt the contract binding him and Alastor torn apart. It was such a shocking end.
"What the hell did you just do, man? How did you… Did you fucking kill him?" Metu only nodded innocently at Husk's questions. He placed his elbows on the counter and rested his head on them, watching Husk intently. Husk grabbed a bottle and quickly poured half of it down his throat. He shook off the shock, then climbed over the bar counter: "You know what? I don't give a shit what you did. I'm leaving. I got a feeling that without that bastard, this place is gonna go to shit. Good luck." He threw out at the end, then left through the main door.
"Well, that was to be expected. No matter. This cat will soon become pure too… Once I've had my fun with the wretched traitor and his little daughter…" Metu closed his eyes and let out a loud laugh, in which a bell-like chime rang.
Over the course of the next hour, Metu strolled leisurely through the hotel. He heard the agitated whispers between Vaggie and Charlie, but they concerned him least of all. He caught a moment when Lucifer was alone in the guest hall. Metu leaned on the back of the armchair standing opposite Lucifer. The angel raised his eyes: "Ah, it's you… Met… Whatever your name is? Ah, anyway… Do you need something? I assume, since you helped my daughter with… all this redemption idea, you want something, right?"
Metu circled the armchair and sat in it, crossing his legs. His gaze swept over Lucifer. His appearance was… disheartening. He had definitely spent a lot of time in isolation, for his outer look left much to be desired. Metu almost began to regret what he wanted to do, but it wasn't his first time: "So, Mister Morningstar… I know you were cast out of Heaven, right? Do you think they had reasons for it? Maybe your willfulness went beyond the boundaries?"
Lucifer looked down and ran his hand over the armrest of the chair. He raised his gaze and quietly said: "I suppose they had some reasons, but they weren't… entirely right… What interests you in this story?" His body adopted a slightly more constrained posture as Metu brought up this topic.
"Eh, you know… You became the reason humanity was filled with sin… If you hadn't done that, maybe you'd have far more friends right now, and your dear little daughter would truly love you—" Metu jumped back as anger appeared on Lucifer's face, then laughed: "Go ahead and try. I assure you… You're no match for me…"
"Ah, you know, I have no idea why the hell you suddenly appeared here and started conducting this… campaign of yours… But I'm not about to listen to some sinner…" Lucifer shrugged and drank from a mug that had appeared in his hands, as if he couldn't care less about Metu's words.
"I'll be honest… I hate all of you. You, and these sinners… You all must correct your mistakes. What you're doing… You're terrible, Lucifer. You're not even capable of building a normal life for those you doomed to sin…" Metu let out a mournful sigh and placed his hand on Lucifer's shoulder: "I can redeem your sins. Tell me… do you agree? This isn't a deal. I just want to know…"
Lucifer obviously didn't believe that Metu represented anything more than an ordinary weak sinner. So he said without any agitation: "Well, sure. Why not, go ahead…"
"Thank you… It's time to deal with this dreadful place…" Metu vanished from the spot, leaving behind golden pollen that tinted the floor a light yellow color.
"What a strange guy…" Lucifer said slowly, not yet knowing that soon this world would take a completely different course.
First, Metu headed to the worst of the worst. The VVV Group. Three Overlords who massively encourage depravity among the population of Hell. The first step on the path to correct—
"Damie?! What the hell are you doing here?!" Metu shouted when he saw his lover relaxing at a table with the sinners and sipping a cappuccino from his glass. This was definitely not in his plans for destroying these three. Still, he pulled himself together and looked at his husband, dressed in a black suit.
Damian shifted his gaze to Metu and nodded, raising his hand up in a sign of greeting, but without particular pleasure in it: "Ah, hello… You know, it turns out that even in this monstrous place, there are those who handle their duties quite well. Isn't that right, Vox?"
The man whose head was replaced by a flat TV screen spoke in a voice that inspired confidence and trust. Metu was ready to admit that this person had a good component for a leader when he spoke: "Ah, yes, that's right. Thank you for the compliment, Damian. I'm glad such an important person stopped by to see us… And this is…?"
Metu stepped forward and extended his hand to this sinner. Inside his head, voices screamed of antipathy and of killing this cruel person, but he stifled them for Damian's sake. At least as long as Damian kept company with these wretched Overlords. When Vox shook his hand, Metu spoke: "A pleasant meeting, Mister Vox… It seems you've taken a liking to my friend? Well… May I join your conversation?"
"Oh, certainly! We were just discussing the supply of new workforce! Damian said he could give us around… How many was it?" Vox turned to the table where his team and Damian were sitting.
"Well, if I'm feeling generous, about a thousand useless people. They no longer hold any value for me after one of them tried to conduct an experiment with hands… Ugh, worthless junk… They've become practically brainless…" Damian drew the line, slightly touching his temples with his fingers from weariness: "Metu, I suppose I should introduce you to these… Overlords… Vox, the head of local propaganda. Valentino… Eh, he's in charge of everything… sex-related, damn it. Don't even think about pulling anything with him… Lastly, here's Velvette. She's in charge of fashion, clothing, and all that…"
Metu listened to this, then nodded a couple of times: "Right, uh-huh… So you got involved with these… businessmen… just for the sake of what? Do you even understand who we are and who THEY are?!" Metu grabbed Damian by the collar and looked him in the eyes.
Damian shook off his hand with ease, then spread his legs in his armchair: "Well, I liked them, and I help those I like. Don't you do the same, huh? For example, that… What's her name… That Marginstar weirdo… Ah, to hell with it! You helped her, and I can't help them?!" It was obvious Damian was slightly irritated with him, but Metu cared little about that. He simply looked at the three sinners, who reeked terribly of sin, then sighed.
"You know, I suppose I don't give a damn who they are and what you're doing with them. Haha… Conduct as much business as you like! But I had a plan… A plan that included killing everyone who displeases me… Or do you want us to… quarrel again?" In Metu's hand, a sharpened golden cross appeared, which he raised over Damian's chest and pressed the tip against his skin.
"Boys, I get that you're very busy, but your toxic vibe is just killing our deal, okay?" Velvette spoke from a chair at a distance from them, as she sat on her phone typing messages. It was a rudeness that equated to a grave insult for Metu. He didn't forgive her for it, and so her body immediately blazed with golden light, then vanished to dust.
Vox screamed and was ready to strike Metu, but stopped in place: "What the fuck?! What the fuck was that, you asshole?!" Valentino drew his golden pistol and aimed it at Metu's head, not hesitating a second. His finger lay on the trigger, but something was stopping him.
Metu turned to the remaining two Overlords and looked at them with his eyes, which shimmered with a golden and blood-red color. He raised his hand before himself, but for now only watched the two of them, doing nothing. Damian slowly took a sip from his glass and wearily looked at Metu, placing his palm on his own head: "Bring her back, Metu. God, sometimes you're such an idiot… Shut your stupid pride for my sake, got it? I'm trying to have fun here…"
Reluctantly, Metu rolled his eyes and pulled his head back. Immediately, on the spot where a handful of dust had remained from her body, Velvette appeared. It was as if nothing had happened. In response to the shocked looks from Vox and Valentino, she replied: "What? What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?"
Damian nodded, and Vox turned his head to Damian: "Man, I thought you said that kind of crap wouldn't happen! Why did your pal just up and kill my colleague?!" Vox was practically shouting, pressuring Damian, but he remained calm.
"You know, I myself don't always understand what goes on in that saint's head. If he kills one of you, I'll try to convince him to bring you back, but beyond that, I can't help. He's his own person…" Damian pulled out a cigarette, which immediately began lightly smoking, then placed it in his mouth. Metu turned away from the group in dismay and stared out the window at the gloomy city.
Vox walked up to the table and looked at Damian. On his screen was a slightly displeased grimace, but he still shone with his blue smile: "Well, Damian, if you give us twice as many workers, then I suppose your fault in this incident may be redeemed…" His bright monitor spread a smile across its surface as he pulled out a small contract with fine print at the bottom from under the table. An obvious trick.
Damian took the paper and began quickly scanning it with his eyes. Vox nodded, then placed a bluish pen marked 'Vox-Tech' before him. Damian dropped the contract on the table, then crushed his cigarette into the sheet, which immediately began to smoke. A puff of smoke left his mouth as he watched Vox devour the paper with his gaze: "That's a refusal, I take it? You know, our influence extends all across Hell. If you're going to be hostile with us, then—"
Metu appeared between them. He dropped his hands onto the table, then grabbed Vox's head and pressed his finger into his screen. Small cracks began to spread from that spot. Vox drove his fist toward Metu's jaw, but Metu caught it and tore his arm off. Cables stuck out from it, sparking as it fell to the floor.
"Don't you dare threaten my Dami, pathetic garbage… We could destroy you, and then the rest of Heaven. I assure you, I've already destroyed one of you. Alastor, the Radio Demon. He's dead. You can confirm it yourself, or would you like me to send you into oblivion along with him?" Metu pressed the sharp cross to Vox's neck and began carving wounds into his metallic body.
"What?! Alastor's dead?! Hahaha! Damn me! If you're telling the truth, that moron died so boringly! Fuck, I couldn't even see his face before he died! That son of a bitch!" Vox ignored the wounds on his body and stepped to the window, punching it with his fist several times. His screen began to flicker, and his iron skin sealed the gashes.
Valentino put his pistol back into the holster behind his coat. Putting his hands on his hips, he let out a small sigh: "Maldita sea, deja de lastimar a mi amor..." He headed toward Vox, and a couple of phrases could be heard exchanged between them. It seemed the TV demon was still discussing Alastor's death.
Damian rose from his armchair and looked at Velvette, who remained at the table alone while the other two were chatting in the corner. He tossed a small slip of paper onto the table: "Look this over. I've written that I'll give you one thousand fifty-six souls. My signature's at the bottom. Don't try to forge it. Any document you copy it onto will immediately burn up… Expect my delivery by next Thursday… Let's go, Metu. The atmosphere in this place stopped being businesslike half an hour ago… Say thanks to your arrival, you damn thorn…"
Taking Metu by the arm, Damian vanished with him, leaving the three Overlords alone in the room. One could say with certainty that Alastor's death became the headline across TV programs that month.
Damian and Metu appeared in the middle of a bright place that seemed empty in its whiteness. The outskirts of Heaven. Saints aren't allowed here, so one could converse in silence in this place. Though it didn't look like a conversation.
Damian's lips pressed against Metu's. Catching him slightly off guard, their tongues entwined in a passionate dance, and their bodies pressed so close that they seemed to be trying to become one. Their hands alternately interlocked and separated around their bodies, grabbing at noble fabric with their fingers. After several minutes, they pulled apart from each other. Each of them was breathing raggedly, releasing puffs of steam from their lungs.
Damian wiped his lips with his hand and brought the cigarette back to them: "Consider yourself forgiven for ruining my image… Eh, what the hell… Those demon scum were tolerable enough. Knowing you, I thought you'd get along…"
Metu raised his palm and leaned on Damian's shoulder, embracing his waist with his other hand: "Sorry, sweetie… I just wanted to purge Hell, and then I saw you whispering with those sinners… They're not worthy of you, my love…" His lips pressed against Damian's neck and traced a hot trail across his skin. Damian lifted his head upward and released a stream of smoke, embracing Metu with his other arm: "Got it, got it. I should've guessed you're obsessed with this whole purification theme… By the way, that Alastor… Did you really kill him? Doesn't seem like your style…"
Metu waved the hand lying on Damian's shoulder, then laid his face on Damian's chest: "Of course not… I simply moved him to my dimension. Want me to bring him back and we can torment this sinner together? Shall we?"
Damian ruffled his golden hair and smirked: "Alright, we'll deal with him when we're done… What do you think, is Heaven also full of idiots?" He asked, stroking Metu's cheek with his fingers.
"Haha, you know, I wouldn't be surprised. To coexist with such lowly beings, one needs a certain degree of madness that even holiness can't overcome… Well then, shall we pay a visit to those false angels who dared to call themselves holy in my presence?" Metu stepped away from Damian and snapped his fingers. His hair immediately fell back into shape, and his clothes changed their shades to gray with red lines encircling his arms, legs, and neck. When Metu's hand rose upward, a black rapier formed in it, gleaming with sunlight.
The corners of Damian's lips lifted, and he drew a black beretta from behind his belt, exuding the scent of fresh metal. He raised it to his shoulder and rubbed the barrel, then aimed it at the horizon and fired a couple of shots. Identical bullets emerged from the muzzle, slicing through the air with their smooth flight, like birds of death.
Each of them dissolved into black haze. In the next second, their bodies appeared in an enormous hall filled with angels. From all sides, beings with many eyes stared at them, and in the center, Pentious was chained to the floor. Metu appeared behind him and stepped out from behind his back. Before voices could sound from the crowd, Metu, with a light movement of his hand, sliced the long neck of the resurrected sinner, making his head fall to the floor. From all sides, screams rang out. Damian stood beside Metu and kicked the serpent's head further away from himself.
Metu's eyes caught the horror on the chief Seraphim present there. Sera was stunned, but another angel was in even greater shock. Emily was on the verge of tears from such a scene. Damian covered his mouth, which was beginning to smile, with his hand and let out a cold chuckle, watching their reaction. Abel, who stood slightly to the side, was also in shock from what he had witnessed.
Still, there was one single angel in the hall who became happier at such a spectacle. A smile appeared on Lute's helmet, born from the killing of Pentious. Metu caught her gaze and nodded to her, though he was seeing her for the first time. It was as if he had managed to behold an angel who was like him.
As they stood observing the hall, the main participants of this gathering flew down to them. The eyes that had opened on Sera's body were directed at them in a threatening manner. Emily also descended and stood beside her. It seemed they were all ready for battle after what they'd seen.
Metu spread his arms and amicably pronounced: "A pleasure to meet you, Heaven! My name is Metu, and I'm here to cleanse you of your sins! I know you still regret the… extermination, don't you?" He directed his gaze at Sera, who reacted after his words: "Today, my friend and I will help you wash away your sins! With the help of… your blood…"
Metu sequentially began creating explosions throughout the assembly hall. The balconies where angels sat cracked under the onslaught of energy, and holy bodies were torn to pieces. Tons of golden blood spilled onto the floor, coloring this place in a golden hue. Damian took his pistol and shot directly into the head of the chief archangel, not giving her even a second.
Bursting into laughter, Metu turned to Damian as Emily shook the body of Sera, who had lost all signs of life. Metu whispered quietly: "Why did you act so quickly? Did we really have to kill the chief sinner of all Heaven right away? I wanted to see her suffer from the deaths of all these pseudo-saints… Ah! Look at those two! They can't even move from their seats!" Near their chairs, Abel and Peter sat, pressed into their soft cushions, watching all of it with horror. Metu licked his lips and directed Damian's hand with the pistol straight at them.
A spear flew into Damian's hand, making it jolt to the side. Instinctively, he clenched it, then received a kick to the ribs. His body struck the blood-stained wall. Metu saw that Lute had flung herself at him with her weapon. A bright smile blossomed on his lips as he grabbed her head and pressed it into the floor. Metu showed mercy, for his rapier softly cut through Lute's skull and pierced her head through.
"Eh, you gave me such high hopes, you know… I suppose you wanted to protect the last thing left of Adam, didn't you?" Saying this, Metu took her spear and hurled it at Abel's moans. Although he raised his hands before himself, the spear pierced his body, nailing him to his chair. Metu made another throw, striking his rapier precisely into the throat of the holy Apostle Peter. Then he shook his hands and walked over to Damian, who was staring angrily at Lute's corpse: "What's wrong, darling? Did something make you angry?"
Damian approached the angel's body with swift steps, then began stomping his shoes on her body. After several minutes, the former Lute would have been hard to recognize from what remained. Blood and chunks of meat dripped from the soles of Damian's shoes, and then he dusted off his suit and turned to Metu: "That bitch pissed me off… How dare she kick me, damn her?! Damn, fuck, damn! I'd kill her a thousand more times if I could! Bitch!" He was squeezing his jacket, containing his inner rage, until he finally exhaled. No one remained in the hall anymore except the two of them and an enormous number of bodies.
Metu spoke again with his usual smile on his face: "Ah, I suppose we're finished for today? Home? Or shall we visit the red beast first? Ah! By the way, did you happen to see Crudy? She wouldn't have missed what we arranged here…"
Damian shrugged gloomily, cleaning himself of bloodstains: "I haven't the faintest idea, darling… She must've gone off somewhere else. I heard there's a city of cannibals here. Quite in her taste… Hah…" Finally, he raised his gaze to Metu: "Let's finish off that Overlord and have some tequila, how about it? I'm already worn out from all this crap…"
Metu obligingly nodded and took Damian by the hand. They transported themselves to another place again. This time, it was a dark room with a few lamps along the sides. Before them, on a chair, was none other than Alastor in person. A loud static hiss emanated from him, but beyond that, he made no attempt to rise.
Metu approached him and touched his mouth, full of yellow, sharpened teeth: "Rise and shine, little sinner. How do you like it here while Papa and Mama went off to deal with the others?" Metu laughed jokingly, then leaned down to Alastor's face.
Green sparks blazed in his eyes, hinting at his inner emotions. Finally, a stream of words burst from his mouth: "I don't know what you've done, but your amusing games won't be able to hold me forever. You'd better release me so your death can be painless…"
Hearing this, Damian couldn't hold back the laughter pouring from his mouth. He slapped his knee, then looked at Alastor: "Are you serious?! Haha! Gods! I didn't know there were such jokers in Hell! Haha! Damn it… Metu, let me kill this filth…" His voice instantly took a turn, displaying a more callous side of himself, as Damian's hand drew his pistol and aimed it at Alastor's forehead.
Metu nodded and stepped back to the far wall: "Alright, my kitten. You can do whatever you want with him~ Even sell him into slavery. I wonder, has he ever been fucked in his life? Hahaha! An amusing thought, isn't it?" Tears welled up in Metu's eyes as the two of them burst into laughter over Alastor, who could only rage in his helplessness.
Damian composed himself, then raised his palm before the Radio Demon. The clench of his fingers created a chain that pierced Alastor's arm. The same was repeated with the other arm and another chain. Next were his knees and legs. Harsh metallic sounds mixed with the smell of flesh being torn apart by them.
Alastor didn't scream, but no one believed he wasn't in pain anymore. He was frightened. Perhaps this was one of those rare cases where he was completely helpless and nearly broken. Though with a beast like him, fangs always bare when cornered, but such a thing couldn't happen when their fangs were carved from their mouth and claws torn out along with their paws. Having stripped the predator of its weapons, you're left with only a pitiful toy capable of nothing but whimpering pathetically.
The chains indifferently pulled the Overlord's limbs apart. The bones inside them could be heard cracking under the load, and the tendons breaking along with them. A snap rang out, after which Alastor's body was separated from its arms and legs. His eyes screamed in pain while his mouth remained immobilized in a smile. Metu approached him from the front and lifted his chin. Damian's hand took hold of the ears growing on his head and, holding the lower part of his face, began to tear them off from the flesh of his head. Another crack, and crumpled fur remained in his hands. Metu looked at Alastor's face, who couldn't die, but the pain made him regret that. Because of his rictus grin, Metu spoke: "You're already regretting, aren't you? Regretting your murders? You're a monstrous parasite on the body of this reality. Someone like you doesn't deserve mercy… Only revenge. Like now… But you know what? I'm in a good mood, so I'll end your suffering… Here and now…" Metu drew Damian's second pistol and cocked the hammer. The bullet flew straight through the deer's skull, decomposing what remained of his face. As his eyes and innards leaked from his body, Metu turned away and wiped the remnants off himself with a white towel that had appeared in his hands.
Damian also turned to Metu and asked: "We're done, right? Well… Shall we drink to our success, love?"
"Let's drink. That was a wonderful purification of a poor soul from its sin. Farewell, Alastor…"
Curtain. The End.