-oOo-

  Chapter 59

  -oOo-

  A small boat traced a ring around Ignis Rosa, violet fins rippling in the starry void.

  From her seat on the boat, Sylvia gazed at the colossal skyship. Massive decks extended from Turrim Amoris, their wedged shapes like petals. Thousands of ether lamps shone bright, leaving the ship’s interior stark against the darkness surrounding. While the inside of the Ignis Rosa was illuminated by white, the outermost layers were washed with complex colors, a shifting rainbow of hue spreading from the flower’s stem to the petal’s tips.

  P-p-pop.

  Fireworks burst all around them. Streams and sparkles showered down, brighter than the astral sea surrounding.

  Betwixt these magical explosions were cast images and pictures, grand moments caught in incandescent embers. A joyful woman jumped after winning big at the casino. A tragic warrior fell to his knees in dramatic theater. Phantasmal beasts rushed around a track, slipping and sliding between all manner of deadly obstacles.

  Curious, the asteri searched the Ignis Rosa. Finally, she found the layer on which the phantasms raced. She could see the devils cheering in the stands while others puttered about the park on distant walkways.

  How romantic.

  Sylvia closed her eyes, imagining Emmy snuggling up beside her. The cheerful emeraldette would point at the sights, drawing Sylvia’s bored attention. Alas, today’s memory would not be so beautiful. Instead, the silver-haired girl was trapped in the cabin of this small boat with Belkis and Chanlina.

  Romantic? Ha. Awkward was the most pleasant way to describe it.

  “And after, you left for the Timeless Beryl Wilderness?” Chanlina questioned.

  The countess’s words were genteel and elegant, her voice carrying the refinement of a lady. A gorgeous dress wrapped her dainty form, layers of white embroidered with sophisticated gold. Chanlina smiled, her expression pure and polite. She was like a picture of a perfect princess, charming in every way – from poise to posture.

  Even her violet eyes shone bright, appearing clear and genuine.

  Sylvia wasn’t fooled. Lady Asmodeus was a cunning old witch with five centuries behind her. She might look innocent, but how could any woman who married the Prince of Lust be innocent?

  She did, however, admire how a vessel of such corruption could appear so pure.

  “That’s right,” Belkis answered with embellished cheer. “I left on the Aripa the day my little sister saved me.”

  The dark-skinned prisma turned to the girl beside her, sharing a smile. Sylvia answered politely with one of her own. The asteri wanted nothing more than to flee this boat. The small talk threatened to bore her out of her mind even as nervous fear clawed at her heart.

  “How terrifying,” Countess Chanlina sounded sociably. “I regret paying so little mind. Surely, this Viscount Nychta would’ve been more reserved if he knew our acquaintance.”

  “It’s my fault for not turning to you when things got difficult,” Belkis replied, accepting the blame.

  Fake. So utterly fake. This phony exchange was disgusting. Obviously, Chanlina didn’t give one whit what happened to Belkis. And the prisma knew well enough, that if she’d turned to Chanlina, the countess would’ve used this favor as leverage against Esmeralda Vallenfelt.

  “And what of your charming junior sister?” Chanlina asked, violet eyes on the silver-haired girl.

  “I took the Utrecht to the Cloud Island Wilderness,” Sylvia answered, shifting uncomfortably.

  To hide her disquiet, the asteri took a sip from her crystal cup.

  The wine’s taste was tender and sweet. Gentle emotions danced on her tongue. Emily stealing Sylvia’s first kiss. The cheerful emeraldette, an angel in the moonlight. A cool night on their porch, gazing out into Chaos Lagoon. Doux Baiser was a beverage carrying psychic intent, the fruity flavor was complemented by beautiful nostalgia.

  “Oh my, that must’ve been quite the adventure,” Chanlina said. “And to think, you couldn’t have been more than nine years old at the time. Venturing across a new plane, all on your own. I’m shocked Esmeralda didn’t send Belkis with you.”

  Sylvia paused, pastel pink eyes gazing over the lip of her cup. In fact, Sylvia had only been one-year-old when she’d crossed Pyrinas. One-year-old as demons reckoned, anyway. Sylvia still felt she was a lady in her thirties. But, how had Chanlina guessed? As far as Sylvia knew, only Lord Potami was aware of Sylvia’s exaggerated youth.

  Unless…. Sylvia’s eyes narrowed slightly. The countess had done a background check. If someone had visited the Timeless Beryl Wilderness, it’d be easy to verify Sylvia’s youth.

  That might be a problem. Luckily, Chanlina’s guess was wildly off base. The woman must’ve established Sylvia’s age using the Young Demon’s Tournament.

  “Vallen was facing the prospect of war,” Belkis explained, shaking her head sadly. “Master couldn’t spare anyone except my little sister. And since I was stronger….”

  Belkis trailed off, letting the implications speak for themselves. The countess gestured. A bottle of wine picked itself up, refilling everyone’s cup. The zoi smiled in the direction of the silver-haired witch, her amiable visage revealing none of her thoughts.

  “You’ve been rather quiet,” Chanlina noted. “If you don’t mind, how did you become Esmeralda’s apprentice? I’m quite curious.”

  Sylvia considered for a moment before speaking.

  “Well, we first met when I was sent to the dean’s office. I caused a lot of trouble the day before,” the asteri grinned, remembering the scene. “Esmeralda gave me three choices. Accept her as my master, become her retainer, or be expelled. Obviously, I chose the first.”

  “Fascinating,” Chanlina sounded, elegantly setting her chin on her knuckles. “She must’ve had her eye on you for a while then. Clearly she wanted you under her thumb.”

  “She did,” Sylvia said softly.

  A nostalgic warmth spread through Sylvia’s heart. On that day, Emmy’s silhouette had been burned into her memory. Who would’ve thought they’d fall in love. Well, Emily had known. Emily had already made her decision.

  Sylvia took another sip. When the asteri looked up, she found Chanlina watching, her violet eyes holding a devious twinkle.

  “Sylvia was the first of master’s descendants to have pure starlight eyes,” Belkis broke in. “A sure sign of supreme talent.”

  Chanlina’s attention turned. Gracefully, the great witch uncrossed her legs before crossing them anew. Sylvia’s eyes flickered, embroidered stockings grasping the countess’s flawless thighs and delicate calves. A hint of skin flashed as the zoi shifted, absolute territory usually hidden beneath Chanlina’s skirt. The nature witch was wearing opalescent pumps, the heels no shorter than Sylvia’s own.

  Sylvia forced her eyes up before Lady Asmodeus could catch her fault.

  “A great talent is a gift. Esme must’ve been very excited,” Chanlina accepted. Then the countess put on a puzzled look. “But why send Sylvia? Surely an older hand would’ve been better suited. Even with the war, it is hard to imagine.”

  Belkis shook her head. “Master had spent months preparing Sylvia for the task, so it had to be her. Also, little sis was in the upper end of the first consolidation back then. She was strong enough for the wilds, but too weak for war.”

  Not entirely true. Any first consolidation demon was useful in war. It was just that they were ordinary. Only after reaching the second consolidation could a fighter be considered elite.

  “All is well that ends well,” the countess declared. “And how is Esmeralda doing? Is she fully settled in the Cloud Island Wilderness?”

  Sylvia relaxed. This was a safer subject. Plus, she could leave the gossip to Belkis.

  “She is,” Belkis said, tone rising with excitement. “Master even built a new school, the Moonlight Academy. This time, she surrendered the position of dean to Miss Meyers and holds authority through the board of directors instead.”

  “How interesting,” the zoi said with delighted cheer. “One day I do hope to see little Esme’s Academy. I’m curious how well these mortal notions of academies and schools translate into the netherworld. Can they really replace a traditional apprenticeship?”

  “I’ll tell Master,” Belkis offered politely. “I’m sure she’ll happily offer an invitation, but only after she has a few students to show off.”

  “That’ll be lovely,” Chanlina acquiesced. The zoi wore a brilliant smile. Then her violet eyes veered to the asteri. “When I saw you at the villa, you were wearing a beautiful pink dress. Tell me, was it Esmeralda’s work?”

  Sylvia wrenched her gaze from the distant stars. “It was.”

  “Master named it Spring Blossom,” Belkis inserted, voice filled with delight. “Little sis looks so cute when wearing it. She’s like a blooming flower. And it’s so soft and cuddly. I just want to hug her and feel all those silky bows and ribbons.”

  …

  Sylvia glowered, fractal eyes displaying her displeasure. She wasn’t a stuffed animal. Only Emmy was allowed to hug her and cling to her like that.

  “I always loved Esmeralda's style and fashion,” Chanlina asserted. “I still have several dresses from when she served as my appointed devil. I do wish I could’ve worn one for the occasion, but weddings.”

  The zoi let out an exaggerated sigh.

  “I must say, I envy the two of you. If I had only known she’d disappear for so long.” Chanlina shook her head sadly. “I should’ve held on to her tighter.”

  Sylvia scoffed. If the Sapphites had held on to Esmeralda as tight as Chanlina wished, it would’ve been Lady Vallenfelt who was ‘introducing’ Sylvia to Asmodeus’s harem.

  The silver-haired witch shivered at the thought.

  “Beside Spring Blossom, master made little sis the Gown of Water Maiden along with her Void Raven’s Vestments,” Belkis continued with genuine excitement. The elemental witch was thrilled to talk fashion. “Oh, I wish she’d brought them with her so she could show them off. They’re so cute!”

  Oh god, kill her now. The topic of conversation was enough to make Sylvia vomit. Before inanity drove her to madness, Sylvia pried her fractal eyes away to gaze at the shimmering stars. Deep within, a constellation moved in a single unit. Huh? Ki sharpened the asteri’s sight. Hawk eyes. The dots became clearer. Those weren’t stars. They were ships.

  And not just one or two. There was a whole fleet of them.

  “Why, she must be a sight when wearing them,” Chanlina praised. She smiled. “But what about you? If Esme is showering your little sister with dresses, you must have a few pieces that are equally ravishing.”

  A chill crawled down her spine. Sylvia felt her hackles rise. Though countess’s words sounded innocent, Sylvia sensed the probing logic hidden behind. Chanlina wished to reveal the depths of Esmeralda’s and Sylvia’s relationship.

  This was a dangerous, dangerous topic.

  “She did stuff me into this cute, frilly dress right after I transmigrated,” Belkis said, without missing a beat. “But it doesn’t match my image now that I’m older.”

  Sylvia nodded wisely, then blandly appended. “It’d be better if my little sister never grew up.”

  Belkis’s molten eyes pierced her with a glower. Sylvia smirked.

  “How wonderful. I’m so glad to see the two of you have such a good relationship,” Chanlina stated. “I was worried that Esmeralda’s favor for her younger apprentice would lead to jealousy and strife.”

  Belkis gave an awkward laugh. “Don’t be silly. Master would never favor one of us over the other.”

  “There’s no need to hide it,” the countess consoled, reaching across the boat to pat Belkis on a knee. “Anyone can see Esmeralda’s preference, otherwise Sylvia wouldn’t carry White Heaven. If I’m not mistaken, Sylvia is leading this venture.”

  Chanlina’s smile was guileless innocence. The pure expression may as well have been a knife. Sylvia turned cold while Belkis looked stiff.

  When would this nightmarish ride end?

  “You’re mistaken. Sylvia is only taking the lead on this mission because she has a better head for business,” Belkis asserted, dead serious. “And since Master worried my little sis wouldn’t be taken seriously, Esmeralda let her borrow White Heaven.”

  “My apologies,” Chanlina said, looking contrite. “I must’ve misread. Still, your sister is an incredible prodigy. I was already impressed when I saw Sylvia’s fight in Baron Naopte’s villa. A fifteen-year-old girl, who can dual cast with such smooth precision? Why, that’s unheard of. And to think, she’s also adept at business.”

  The zoi leaned forward, as though studying a rare bird. Chanlina’s violet eyes twinkled, their light matched by the glimmer of the purple jewel in her tiara. The angle of the great witch’s body gave Sylvia a clear view of Lady Asmodeus’s cleavage.

  Sylvia was utterly sure this was intentional.

  “If Esmeralda hasn’t gifted you her favor, then you may have mine. Serve me as an appointed devil,” Chanlina offered. “Two or three decades at most, then I’ll put in a recommendation.”

  The nature witch paused.

  “Ah, but I have gotten ahead of myself. How far are you from Awakening? You are certainly in the second consolidation. There can be no doubt of this. Why, if I were to judge solely by your performance in battle, I might dare claim you’ve reached Class IV high.”

  Chanlina’s friendly smile reminded Sylvia of a sly predator. This was a mistake. They never should’ve set a foot on this boat. No, they never should’ve come to the post wedding celebration in the first place. Lady Asmodeus knew. Somehow, she knew Sylvia was harboring grave secrets.

  And slowly but surely, the zoi was prying them from Sylvia’s grasp.

  “No way, no way,” Belkis refuted. “My little sister is super talented, but how could she be Awakened? Sylvia’s only Class III low.” The elemental witch paused, then added conspiratorially. “Though, she is very close to Class III mid. Another month or two and she’ll reach it.”

  Sylvia admired the smooth way Belkis spewed lies like a gossiping girl. One of these days, Sylvia would use a skill book to master the art of deception. She was clearly terrible at it.

  “Oh my,” Chanlina noised, sounding shocked. “To cultivate so fast, her talent might be Esmeralda’s equal. No wonder.”

  The countess’s violet eyes showed Belkis a hint of pity.

  “I’m not jealous of her talent,” Belkis refused. The dark-skinned girl sighed. “If I’m jealous of anything, it’s her eyes. They’re so, so beautiful. And she can use them to see magic directly.”

  “Starlight eyes are a true gift. When revealing magic, only the third eye of a magia is their better,” Chanlina agreed. “Oh. It’s been so long. Now that I look, I find I cannot say whether Esmeralda’s or Sylvia’s are lovelier.”

  “Master’s are more magnificent,” Belkis answered with confidence. “There’s no question about it. Master’s eyes are so gorgeous it takes your breath away. But my little sister’s are so much more adorable. When she dresses up all cute, I think Sylvia wins.”

  First off, there was no way, no how that Sylvia’s eyes were better than Emmy’s. Lady Vallenfelt’s nebulae were celestial perfection. She could stare into those eyes for all eternity, never growing bored. There was simply no comparison between the two of them.

  Why, the only advantage Sylvia had over the emeraldette was the size of her breasts.

  Also, Sylvia’s legs were slightly sexier. But only because she gained a precious centimeter during Awakening. And also because Sylvia wore taller heels.

  …

  Know what? It was time to change the subject.

  “That’s an awfully big fleet,” she stated. “What do you think they’re here for?”

  The distant ships had grown larger. Three slender giants swam through the void, smaller vessels surrounding. The hulls were clad in white metal, their polished surfaces glimmering in the black. Fish-like fins extended from their sides, strips of purple light piercing the astral sea. Ribbons trailed behind, the catch drawn short as the fleet approached the Ignis Rosa.

  “They’re the Heavenly Inquisition,” Countess Chanlina stated, violet eyes giving the fleet a glance. “It seems Remiel has come for tonight’s auction. And he has brought his soldiers with him. What a boorish man.”

  The largest of the astral ships were breakers. These battleships were designed to destroy opposing vessels or smash through fixed defenses. The smaller combat ships were cruisers. Heaven used ships of this class to suppress demons and phantasms. Their allotment of weapons reflected this reality.

  At the center of the fleet, protected by all the others, were the ferries. These support ships carried phantasms, resurrection pools, and specialized soul beacons. For this reason, they held great strategic importance, though their construction was far more fragile.

  Sylvia would’ve loved to see the ships up close, then she’d use Observe Item to strip them naked.

  “Remiel?” she questioned suddenly as the name struck her. “As in archangel Remiel? Head of the Heavenly Inquisition, Remiel?”

  After Moswen’s surprise visit, Sylvia had brushed up on the who’s who of the netherworld. She’d paid particular attention to her opposition. In the hierarchy of Heaven, Remiel was ranked a seraph. As Heaven was governed by the strict rules of caste, this meant he was a seventh consolidation angel.

  Which was to say, there were two seventh consolidation monsters pursuing Lucifer’s thirteen evil pieces: Remiel and Azazel. And if either learned Sylvia was an Apostle of Fire, they’d chase her in specific.

  “Yes, he is the Remiel you’re thinking of,” Chanlina confirmed. Her pure, violet eyes held a touch of amusement. “Are you interested in the excitement? If so, we can proceed to the private booth shared by the Sapphites. Esmeralda was quite dear to me. I’m sure my sister wives would be delighted to meet you.”

  The zoi’s gentle smile conjured goosebumps.

  From a societal perspective, their time with Chanlina was nothing more than a private affair – a high class noble maintaining connections to friends and associates. To introduce Sylvia to the Sapphites, however, was beyond the pale. The silver-haired witch was a mere denizen. Her sister was only a devil.

  They were unworthy.

  And even Sylvia could tell that Chanlina’s offer wasn’t a polite invitation they were supposed to refuse.

  “Watching rich people bid will make me feel poor,” Sylvia tried to excuse.

  “Then I’m sure you will find the auction all the more enlightening,” Chanlina replied. “The higher classes aren’t so much different than the lower. But, if you are truly ill at ease, I’m sure we can embark on different pleasures. Why, I just had the most brilliant idea. Why don’t the two of you stay with me for the next week? I would so love to hear everything about Esmeralda since we’ve parted.”

  Sylvia felt as though she’d been dropped into a barrel of ice.

  Had Sylvia stared too long at the countess’s sexy legs? Or maybe, Sylvia had been too studious when avoiding Chanlina’s breasts? Where had she gone wrong? Which act led the countess to conclude Sylvia wasn’t to escape her sight?

  “I wish we could,” Belkis demurred sorrowfully. “But Master wants us to return immediately. Little sis and I have lots of important matters with which we must assist in the Cloud Island Wilderness.”

  “Oh my,” the countess sounded, looking aghast. “I didn’t make the two of you overstay just to attend this event, did I?”

  “Of course not,” Belkis refused, her tone sweet politeness.

  “How unfortunate,” Chanlina said, looking down. Then she clapped her hands. “Then it is decided. You must remain with me through the morrow.”

  Clunk.

  The small boat slid into the bottom deck of the Ignis Rosa. Servants in fez hats anchored the vessel to the pier. Countess Chanlina stood, smoothing her elegant dress. Sylvia and Belkis took to their feet after, daintily accepting a helping hand.

  With the zoi’s back turned, Belkis shot Sylvia an uneasy look. Lips tight, Sylvia scribbled a few words onto her mirror pad. Luckily, she’d bought new sets. The System was better for casual transmissions, but it was hard to beat a mirror pad for under the table notes.

  There should be a chance to escape after the auction. Look for an opportunity then. Once we’re out of sight, I’ll gate us into the starry void. The Utrecht can pick us up a day or two after.

  “Since we’ll spend the evening together, what shall we avail ourselves of next?” Chanlina questioned, sounding like a princess adventuring through the slums.

  “If little sis doesn’t mind, I want to see what Remiel is planning to bid on,” Belkis asserted.

  The prisma gave her sister an apologetic look. Belkis was too good at this.

  “A wonderful choice,” Chanlina encouraged. “My master, Duchess Mliss Phoung will be in attendance. I’m so eager to introduce the two of you.”

  A sick foreboding filled Sylvia’s gut. She’d stumbled upon the perils of min-maxing. She’d spent fourteen skill books on combat and not a single one on social warfare. Today, she’d been the wet noodle. Belkis had been carrying hard, but the fight was hopeless.

  The countess led the way. Hair like sunrise fluttered behind Chanlina in an elegant curtain, delicate braids forming a rosette behind her head. Sylvia and Belkis followed a few steps behind. This was the demand of etiquette. Though Chanlina might treat them like friends, they were by no means her equal.

  While they walked, Sylvia furiously reviewed their conversation. What was it? Where was the mistake? Nothing in particular stood out. Even if Countess Chanlina read deep into the margins, there was no reason to bring them directly to Duchess Phoung.

  …

  Oh. Oh, dark chocolate mousse cake with a side of vanilla ice cream….

  Sylvia nearly froze in horror when it hit her. ‘The water has turned to ice with a delightful, stinging spark.’

  When Malik Nychta spoke those words, Sylvia hadn’t computed the portent. The viscount could scent the ether influenced by Sylvia’s elemental palaces. One of lightning. One of ice. Anbaht was a legendary artifact. It obscured her person in many ways, but its power was most directly focused on causality and fate. Though it hid her cultivation, it didn’t hide her face.

  Nor did it hide the gentle gestation of her magical lungs. Two palaces, both with secondary elements. That wasn’t something a second consolidation asteri could have. Teeth grit, Sylvia wrote a furious letter.

  Chanlina suspects I’m Awakened. Palaces.

  Belkis nearly missed a step. Molten eyes flicked to the silver-haired witch, full of worry.

  A dreadful silence hung over the trio as they ascended to the upper deck. The path ran along the side of Turrim Amoris. Here, gravity turned ninety degrees, providing a dizzying climb.

  The view was magical.

  If Sylvia was in a better mood, she might’ve gawked. In fact, she had gawked the first time she walked this path. Now, her hands were clammy. If her heart were human rather than crystal, it might’ve pounded so heavily it threatened to burst.

  Little Sis,

  Relax, Chanlina doesn’t know asteri can only form a secondary element palace during Awakening. Emmy was the only witch of her bloodline when she served under Lady Asmodeus. At most, Chanlina has an inkling. If she tests you on this, we’ll present your double palaces as a lucky mutation during advancement.

  Your supportive sister,

  Belkis von Vallenfelt

  Sylvia let out a breath. Right. They could play it like that. Also, was it really necessary to write every page like a letter?

  The asteri’s lips quirked. Belkis’s absurd habits took an edge off her nerves.

  They reached the upper deck.

  A celestial cruiser hung in the starry sky, mirrored metal reflecting the white illumination cast by Ignis Rosa. Devils gazed and pointed, muttering curiously among themselves.

  As Sylvia watched, three angels descended.

  The first was Remiel. The archangel had short, blue-gray hair. The color was a few shades darker than Sylvia’s own and lacked the silvery gloss. On the seraph’s left, was a winged raven-haired woman. The lady carried a long, thin staff. Two snakes wound around the metal rod, their heads facing a pair of wings at the top. To Remiel’s right was a plain faced blond man, his appearance indistinguishable from that of an ordinary human.

  The word angel meant messenger. In early history, this title only applied to Heaven’s diplomatic core. Angels were those who bore the Wings of Hermes, a symbol showing their right to speak on Heaven’s behalf. While many who served this role grew actual wings, it was the staff which proved the lady was a diplomat.

  Hence, Remiel and the man beside him were more accurately identified as celestials.

  But demons would call all three of them angels. Over the millennia, the original meaning had become blurred. How few mortals met a celestial who was anything but an angel? Even in Hell and the Fey Federation, angels were more visible than Heaven’s celestial citizens. In fact, the word had become so heavily corrupted that nobody used the word archcelestial, not even in Heaven.

  When the winged woman settled onto the deck, she offered a gesture akin to a half bow, half curtsy. Her lovely voice rose over the din, easily heard from hundreds of meters away.

  “Heaven gives thanks to Lord Asmodeus for this joyful festival,” the angel said. “Sometimes we forget we are brothers and sisters, tracing a journey through our second life. The Heavenly Will has graced us all, whether demon, fey, or celestial. I believe this light is a reminder that, while our politics may differ, every soul is precious and worthy of the Will’s gift.”

  Finished, the angel offered a second bow-curtsy. Some of the devils nodded along, accepting Heaven’s presence. Others showed their bigotry and hate.

  “Go back to Heaven, you shitty birds!” a woman screamed.

  “If you respect the Will, then stop using it as a tool, fucking hypocrites!” a man appended.

  Remiel glared. The seraph’s sharp, blue eyes were like lightning bolts ripping through the night. Devils backed away, letting the archangel advance. The seraph marched through the parting horde to enter the auction house.

  Nearly all of Heaven’s citizens came from the celestial bloodline, Ouranios Nefritos Anthros. Much like the gamers of the Cloud Island Wilderness, celestials would receive bloodline keys as they advanced through consolidations. Each key offered a slightly different path. The biggest difference between them was that the System synthesized the required key during class advancement, whereas celestials obtained their bloodline key from Heaven’s government.

  This, along with the Heavenly Tribulation, formed the foundation of Heaven’s caste structure. In Hell, even a slave might dare consolidate against their master’s desire. Denizens advanced however they wished, restricted only by wealth, opportunity, and clan politics. In Heaven, one must first gain permission. Only those with sufficient karma, skill, talent, and ‘merit’ would gain this license.

  Countess Chanlina led their group into the House of Silver.

  Cushioned chairs and couches faced a glass window. Through this they could see the auction stage below. Three women were already present. The first of them looked back with curious brown eyes, her languid arm thrown over the couch’s back.

  “Hey, Talyssa! Chan-chan brought guests.”

  The lady who spoke was a blonde kitsune in a tight, red dress. The demoness had six fluffy tails, one happily patting her couch mate. Fourth consolidation, Sylvia guessed. Alepou from the Oura bloodline tended to gain a tail with every consolidation and grand mutation.

  “Everyone, may I introduce Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt’s apprentices,” Countess Chanlina said. “This is Esmeralda’s senior apprentice, Belkis von Vallenfelt. And the other lovely girl is Esmeralda’s junior apprentice, Sylvia Swallows. Sylvia and Belkis, these are my sister wives: my master – Duchess Mliss Phoung, Marquise Talyssa Stea, and Viscountess Fumiko Asmodeus.”

  Chanlina gave a dainty curtsy as she introduced the first. Sylvia curtsied thrice, dipping longer and deeper in deference to those of greater rank.

  The shadows shifted, darkness parting to reveal Marquise Talyssa Stea. The lady was a vampire. Talyssa had flawless pale skin, her complexion perfectly straddling the barrier between healthy human and snow-white. Her eyes were like twin, crimson moons, huge and beautiful.

  For a dress, the marquise wore something scandalous. Black cloth clung to her porcelain skin, as much of her body showing through the layers of lace as was hidden by the dark opaque. To this black canvas were appended little, red roses, granting delicacy and color to Talyssa’s fragile figure.

  “I recall Belkis,” the pale-skinned vampiress said, her voice like smooth honey. “From time to time, I’d see her waiting in the hall for her master.”

  The vampiress glided forward with the grace of a dancer. Talyssa’s skirt was half translucent fabric, exposing great lengths of slender leg. A single, red ribbon, traced around white flesh before reaching heels so towering Ingrid would sigh with envy.

  Though Talyssa was by no means tall, she gazed down upon the petite, silver-haired witch. Her crimson eyes stared into a universe of fractal pink, glimpsing the ancient galaxy hidden within the pupil’s void.

  “You, however, I have not met.”

  The asteri’s crystal heart trembled. She felt discomfort and attraction. Marquise Stea was standing too close. All four of Asmodeus’s wives were strikingly beautiful. So much so that Esmeralda’s flawless charm would be made ordinary among them.

  What’s more, all of these women were lesbians. Years ago, a fantasy like this might’ve been heaven. Right now, it felt as though Sylvia had been plunged into the abyss. The desires of her body were like a betrayal, leaving her wanting and sick.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “Sylvia is a starlight witch like Esmeralda,” Chanlina supplied, with innocent tones. “She’s also very talented. I can’t think of many women who have reached the second consolidation before they turned fifteen.”

  Duchess Phoung turned.

  Mliss Phoung was the highest ranking member of the Sapphite faction, though notably weaker than her archduchess rivals who led the Traditionalists and the Monopolists. By bloodline, Lady Phoung was a succubus. Two goat horns grew from her head, both curling back before rising straight up, the tips tapering to the rear in a final crook.

  As was common for Xemyalistra, Mliss sported incredible curves with a voluptuous bust. Instead of emphasizing her assets, the duchess had chosen a demure dress, bestowing upon her royal grace.

  “Asteri are an exotic bloodline,” Duchess Phoung noted, her smoky voice a decadent pleasure.

  So said, Mliss returned her magenta eyes to the auction.

  “She’s talented and delicious,” Viscountess Fumiko added. “Chan-chan has good taste. You can sit by me.”

  The six-tailed fox scooted then patted the cushion beside her.

  Sylvia grimaced. “I’d prefer – ”

  A cold, soft hand grasped her own. Marquise Talyssa pulled. Sylvia fell through a world of gray and black. Before she could blink, the curtain parted, fading mist curling into thorns and roses. A light push sent the silver-haired witch irresistibly onto the couch.

  “You’ve already been invited,” Taylssa said. Her words were like frozen cream, as cold and hard as arctic ice yet impossibly sweet. “So stay.”

  With a half pirouette, Talyssa sat elegantly beside Sylvia. The silver-haired witch found herself sandwiched between a Viscountess and a Marquise. Warm and cold. The scent of cinnamon and the smell of roses.

  A bushy tail brushed against her calf. The silver-haired witch shivered. Her stomach roiled while the flesh trilled, cheeks warming into a blush.

  “Then we’ll take a seat over here,” Chanlina said, smoothly guiding the dark-skinned prisma to a distant chair.

  Belkis glanced in her direction. Sylvia had nothing to offer but despair.

  “Don’t be so nervous,” Fumiko said, leisurely. The fox wore a teasing smile, her brown eyes glimmering with predatory light. “Since Chan-chan brought you here, we’ll take good care of you.”

  “Quiet.”

  Talyssa held out a hand, gesturing for silence. Fumiko backed off. Sylvia took a breath, stilling her emotions as she forced herself to relax.

  The dryad was still the hostess, her sharp ears adding to her exotic beauty. Below, the public seats were packed, half the crowd appearing as dark silhouettes. On the podium was a crystal fig. Rainbows shimmered on the fruit’s flesh, the stage lights splintering on its swirling surface.

  “For lot #5 we have the legendary dream fruit!” the dryad declared, all smiles. “Often known as the Fruit of Knowledge, dream fruits grow slowly on a tree of life. Only after a thousand years have passed do they mature, having accumulated all the wisdom of the world. Needless to say, every dream fruit is an incredibly precious treasure.”

  “By consuming the Fruit of Knowledge, you’ll be granted a moment of profound insight. However, this is a lesser gift. The true value is the improved clarity of both mind and soul. Yes. That’s right. By eating a dream fruit you’ll permanently improve your intelligence. Alas, this boon of clarity can only be experienced once, otherwise the value would be ten times greater.

  “Bidding will start at 700 million soli. Increments must proceed in blocks of 50 million soli.”

  Finished, the dryad stepped back. The two judges raised their signs, confirming the fruit was authentic.

  “Nine hundred million.”

  Talyssa’s smooth and lovely voice was carried through a thread of mana. Psychic energy flowed into an enchanted speaker, then repeated in the main room. No sooner was her voice heard than did a man call out in challenge.

  “One-point-two billion!” “One billion, three hundred million.” “One and a half billion.”

  The price rose quickly. Talyssa pressed her lips. Crimson eyes shifted to Duchess Phoung. The demure succubus shook her head.

  “You won’t be able to obtain it.”

  Faint disappointment marred Talyssa’s flawless face. The price had already reached two billion. Every number shouted was like a hammer striking Sylvia’s soul. Poor. Poor. Poor. These slimy, rich basbousas were driving knives into her fragile heart.

  Why couldn’t she have billions of soli! Life was so unfair.

  … Well, death was anyway.

  Also, how ridiculous was Esmeralda’s luck? The witch had, quite literally, stumbled upon a microplane as a mortal then traded it for an Apple of Idunn. Sylvia drowned in envy. Yes, she could buy one of her own. Yaalon had a spare and Sylvia had the title Founder of the Cloud Island Wilderness which let her purchase strategic resources.

  But the price was five million merit points! It’d be easier to earn the soli and buy one in an auction. Assuming she could find another chance. Fruits like this were rare and precious. Very few made it to the market.

  “Three billion soli,” a masculine voice interrupted. “For my darling wife.”

  “~Lucky~” Fumiko sang. The kitsune’s brown eyes twinkled.

  “Ilyana Leita is a genius of medical alchemy,” Duchess Phoung said. “If she consumes a dream fruit, it will benefit us all.”

  Alchemy was a broad subject covering the transformation of essence. Like chemistry, the domain could be split into multiple disciplines. Medical alchemy was the study of substances which affected the phantasmal body or the soul. This included pills and potions which healed as well as medicines and resources used in cultivation.

  Astral amber, a cultivation resource Esmeralda had invented after many years of effort, was a product of medical alchemy. But astral amber could be refined further. An expert alchemist might invent a substance that could be digested faster, created cheaper, or be formed from a different material base.

  And this wasn’t the limit. Beyond resources, there were precious pills which assisted with consolidation or the grand mutations.

  Hence, a master of medical alchemy was worth their weight in gold. Not only to research new resources, but to brew the valuable potions and create the necessary pills. Asmodeus had chosen wisely. If Sylvia had the means, she’d kidnap Ilyana then secretly insert the System so The Devil could steal all her tricks.

  “The Fruit of Knowledge shines best when given to the brilliant,” Chanlina chimed in. “Our lord husband isn’t willing to invest so much in an ordinary girl. Only those with grand achievements, such as a Laureate of Magic, are worthy.”

  Sylvia’s eye twitched. The insinuation wasn’t missed.

  Six fruits grew on the tree of life. The common fruits: blood, psychic, and soul matured every year while the legendary fruits required a millennium. The first of these legends was the mutation fruit, often called the Apple of Idunn. Next was the dream fruit, also known as the Fruit of Knowledge. Last was the fruit of anima, better named the Egg of Origin.

  Of these, the dream fruit and the mutation fruit were especially precious as they transformed the soul. The Apple of Idunn had polished Emmy’s code, integrating the System. What’s more, Emmy had gained two traits: ether affinity II and powerful mana I.

  If Sylvia were to consume an Apple of Idunn, her gain would be smaller. Her bloodline code was already close to perfection. So, at best, she’d pick up a single trait or an upgrade to an existing one. Nothing big, but what gamer didn’t hope for a permanent passive?

  For Sylvia, a Fruit of Knowledge had greater use. The attribute Wit improved memory, multitasking, and the speed of thought. Processing power wasn’t the same as intelligence. If it were, super computers would’ve out thought humans decades ago.

  “If I remember right, your master has a Laureate of Magic,” Fumiko said.

  The fox scooted closer, her soft warmth spreading through Sylvia’s arm. A bushy tail teased, the touch of fluff like fingers running across her skin. Blood thumped through her veins, leaving her delirious with delicious temptation.

  It would be so easy to not resist.

  Fumiko was gorgeous. The fox had sly eyes and glossy lips with a bosom that belonged in an anime. If Talyssa was a cold doll, then the fox was a fiery beauty. Her presence, a lewd heat from young Eric’s most decadent dreams.

  These feelings filled her with shame.

  Edging away a little, Sylvia solidified her ki, dulling the delectable sensation. “Please don’t.”

  “Oh, come on,” Fumiko breathed, voice sultry. “I know you like it.”

  The fox wasn’t wrong. The pull of Fumiko’s heart was different from the one evoked by the Naopte clan’s perverse magic. This was natural. Real. There was no mechanical whisper in the back of Sylvia’s mind telling her that her emotions had been twisted.

  Instead, what she saw in her mind’s eye was the disappointed gaze of Emmy.

  She didn’t want this. Asmodeus had a harem of beauties, but – from another perspective – every Sapphite had a harem of beauties too. Being here, scrunched between the vampiress and the fox was the pinnacle of male fantasy. Yet, Sylvia didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. Nor did she wish for what would come after, ties to Asmodeus through the hooks of his harem.

  Fumiko’s hot breath brushed across her neck, making her crystal core tremble. The kitsune gave a sly smile. Her glossy, red lips came close. Sylvia leaned back, putting a hand between her and the viscountess.

  “Won’t your husband be upset?” Sylvia asked, flailing for an excuse.

  “Lord Asmodeus doesn’t care if we chase women,” Fumiko whispered. “Especially, if we’re willing to share them after.”

  A fluffy, yellow tail wound its way around Sylvia’s legs, the kitsune’s ki slipping through her own, piercing the barrier. Soft strands brushed over skin, sending a shiver of electric thrill along the asteri’s spine. Her breath hitched.

  Sylvia’s hand, however, remained in place. She did not consent.

  “Hmm?” Fumiko hummed, drawing back. Her brown eyes held a playful curiosity. “Is it because you already have a lover?”

  …

  “Oh my, a lover?” Chanlina questioned, all too loudly. “Who could it be? Surely, it isn’t Esmeralda. I can’t imagine little Esme taking advantage of her apprentice like that.”

  Sylvia felt as though she’d been dumped, naked, in the middle of Antarctica. Slowly, pastel pink eyes swept across the room.

  Every woman was staring at her. Countess Chanlina’s innocent smile hid her sharpness while Viscountess Fumiko revealed a victorious smirk. On the other side was Marquise Talyssa. The vampiress studied Sylvia with two full moons of crimson. Even Duchess Mliss Phoung had been drawn, her magenta gaze carefully contemplating.

  “A master and apprentice,” Fumiko licked her lips. “How naughty. As expected from a witch raised by Chan-chan.”

  With a wicked grin, the kitsune leaned forward a second time. Before Sylvia could react, a cold hand settled on her arm. Shadow flickered. Suddenly, Sylvia’s position and Talyssa’s were reversed.

  Fumiko blinked.

  A pale hand snaked around the kitsune’s head. Marquise Stea pulled her sister wife close, kissing the stunned fox full on the lips. The viscountess shuddered before melting into a moan. The lewd scene continued for half a minute before Talyssa let Fumiko up for breath.

  “You’re frightening her,” the marquise’s smooth, sweet voice was silky relief. The vampiress’s crimson eyes shifted, adding a second part. “We’ll seduce her, slowly.”

  “I have interest in the next item,” Duchess Phoung said, interrupting the play.

  Sylvia let out a nervous breath. At this point, she could only pin her hopes on the Followers of the Flame.

  Fortunately, Marquise Talyssa Stea proved a gentler companion. With the vampiress at Sylvia’s side, the silver-haired witch could once again focus on the auction.

  The next item was a staff. The shaft was lacquered yellow, the wooden grains glinting with elemental threads. The head of the rod was shaped like a three toed, crescent claw. Within that claw’s grip were two crystal orbs. One roiled with storms. The other held a geyser of magma.

  “For our second to last item, we present to you a masterpiece – the sky calamity staff,” the dryad declared. “The rod of this weapon was forged from the heartwood of an ancient primordial pine. Attuned to all the primordial elements, it can drink deep from the ethers of the world, converting them as needed into the elements sky and calamity. Truly this weapon is the pinnacle of destruction.”

  …

  Sylvia’s heart ached. Why? Why did they ruin the greatness of White Heaven? How was Esmeralda’s staff supposed to compare? White Heaven could only catalyze one advanced element while the sky calamity staff handled two.

  The asteri’s gaze flicked to a distant board, upon which was written the fine details. Her eye twitched. Two thousand standard units of ether for both elements. Yeesh. The mass though… one hundred and eighty-eight droms.

  The painful feeling eased. Even if Sylvia could afford the sky calamity staff, there was no way she’d dare carry it around with her.

  “But that’s not all, this incredible weapon has three conceptual abilities: grand resonance, the ideal of destruction, and the law of certainty. With all this, sky calamity isn’t just the staff’s name, it’s the title of anyone who wields it.

  “Bidding will start at 1.2 billion soli,” the hostess finished. “Increments must be in blocks of a 100 million.”

  There it was again, the lament of poverty. There was only one choice. When Sylvia returned to the Cloud Island Wilderness, she had to raise everyone’s taxes. Powerful weapons were needed for the defense of the plane! Sylvia was only asking for a small sacrifice…

  … of 240 gold per player. Hmm, that’d only cover the starting bid. Better make it 500 gold instead. Shk. Shk. Snapping a few pictures, Sylvia teasingly started a new topic arguing such.

  “One-point-four billion soli.” “One-point-seven.” “Two billion, two hundred million soli!”

  Voices shouted from the high booths. There were only three demons fighting for ownership, but the battle was fierce.

  “Two-and-a-half,” Mliss Phoung added.

  Chanlina’s vile plot was working. Sylvia understood how women were enticed into marrying Asmodeus. But she wouldn’t be swayed. Fumiko and Talyssa were beautiful, yes, but she was already betrothed to a magnificent and loving lady. Also, the thought of doing the deed with a man made her queasy. Partly, because she feared she might like it.

  Sylvia had… uh… experimented enough to know how good it felt to stuff objects of certain shapes into a certain place.

  The bidding came to a close, the price ending near five billion. The duchess had bowed out when it reached four. It just went to show, there was rich and then there was rich.

  The silver-haired girl sat up. It was time for the final item.

  The stage went dark.

  Magic drenched the auction in inky, impenetrable black. A lone column of light fell upon the dryad, illuminating the flowers and leaves in her beautiful brown hair. Someone played an instrument, adding to the theatrical tension.

  Sylvia prayed in her heart: please blow everything up. Firestorm had better live up to their name, or her next stop would be Asmodeus’s palace. And if she was brought there, Sylvia feared she’d never make it back out.

  “Two thousand years ago, in the midst of the Silent Age, Heaven lost something immeasurably precious,” the nymph began, dramatic and solemn. “For millennia, this item remained hidden in an archdemon’s collection while Heaven searched for it desperately. Eventually, even Heaven accepted it had been lost forever, destroyed in the shadowy exchange called the War of Words.

  “But now, in the House of Silver, what had been lost has been found!”

  Stepping to the side, the dryad gestured. Suddenly, a beam of light fell upon the podium. The final item was revealed.

  It was a funeral urn.

  By volume, the object was thrice the size of Sylvia’s head. The body was clear crystal. Bright, golden light glimmered within, reflecting off the many facets. A soul jar. The common soul lamp was too small to hold a fourth consolidation demon, and might be destroyed by the spirit of a struggling third. For great demons, a more robust seal was needed. Particularly, if they had items like cognition jars or traits which let them affect the world even when dead.

  This jar, however, held the soul of a being far mightier.

  “I present to you, the soul of the archangel Jophiel!”

  BANG!

  The glass window of their booth rattled, the auction house lighting with a brilliant shock. Lightning crawled over the ceiling to crash down on a gray-haired man. Remiel stood, electricity crackling all over his body. The archangel was among the public seats, the dim atmosphere replaced by the seraph’s scintillating spark.

  “Jophiel is not a common good to be traded or sold,” Remiel barked, his voice like thunder. “Heaven demands that she be returned to us immediately. Her disappearance was a travesty. One that nearly shattered the postwar peace.”

  The hostess wore a frightened smile. She just stood there, a deer in the headlights, not knowing how to respond. Remiel’s gaze swept the private booths, blue eyes like neon lights. A few, poor devils in the public seats quietly distanced themselves from the archangel’s fury.

  A booth lit.

  Archduke Asmodeus sat on a stone throne, his latest wife, Ilyana Leita, resting in his lap. The lady was a blue-haired sprite, her transparent wings pressed against the prince’s burly chest. Faeries were tiny creatures by nature. As an Awakened fey, Ilyana was larger than most. Even so, the woman was half-a-head shorter than Sylvia.

  Which made the image rather creepy. Sylvia tried to set aside her prejudice. This was just how it went in the netherworld. Physical age had little meaning to demons. A hexe could be a newborn child. A tiny faerie, ancient beyond all measure.

  It was tempting to judge by the age of the soul, but then one was forced to ask: how old was Esmeralda? Six? Sixteen? Three hundred? Transmigration played havoc with the numbers. Mortal clones rendered them into mush. Few were the demons who even knew their mortal age in the first place. It was best, Sylvia had long ago decided, to not think about it.

  … especially given her relationship with Emmy!

  “The House of Silver is here as my guest,” the prince said, his masculine voice a pleasant rumble. “They operate under my protection and my authority. Do not undermine it.”

  Asmodeus gazed down, eyes of obsidian carrying his threat. Remiel met the archdemon’s challenge without balking.

  “Heaven will not leave without her,” the seraph said coldly.

  “Then you better have enough money,” Asmodeus returned with a laugh. He waved a magnanimous hand. “Proceed with the auction.”

  The booth went dark. Nervously, the dryad stepped forward.

  “Bidding will start at 2 billion soli. Increments must be in blocks of 100 million.”

  Remiel’s electric gaze snapped to the stage, his glower making the hostess cringe. The winged woman to the seraph’s left whispered into the archangel’s ear. Remiel let out a grunt.

  “Two billion soli,” the man growled.

  Remiel didn’t bother to sit. Sylvia couldn’t help but wonder why an archangel was stuck in the public seats. A slight? Or maybe Remiel had chosen this place himself to exude greater presence.

  “Two-point-one billion,” a feminine voice spoke.

  Remiel’s eyes shot to the source. The dark booth gave no hint of the woman’s nature. Arms folded, the seraph glared regardless, sparks shooting through his blue-gray hair.

  “Are you threatening me, inquisitor?” The woman’s voice teased. “I would remind you, there are ten archdemons on this ship alone.”

  “Three billion,” Remiel mustered.

  “Three point one,” another voice laughed.

  An amused chuckle swept through the public seating. Making life difficult for angels was clearly a favored pastime among devils.

  “Four billion.”

  With sly tones, a third demon chimed in. “Four-point-one.”

  Bzzzt! Lightning shimmered around the seraph as though it were a cloak. Sylvia could see Remiel trembling in anger.

  “Do you think this is a game?” the archangel growled, blue eyes raking the booths. “Holding the soul of a cherub is a violation of multiple treaties. I’m already being diplomatic by offering to pay for Jophiel’s return.”

  A rough voice scoffed.

  “Even after all these years, you’re still a hotheaded brat.” Lord Azazel leaned against the back wall of the auction hall. The asura’s fanged face showed his disdain. “If you want the soul, cough up the money, dog of Heaven. Or is your rotted out Utopia so poor it can’t spare a few soli?”

  Remiel whirled. “Don’t lecture me, traitor.”

  “Traitor?” Azazel laughed, before chiding. “Have you forgotten your own master, boy? Self-righteous brat. To think you have the guts to call me a traitor after turning your back on everything I stood for.”

  “I wasn’t the one who fled Heaven,” Remiel said in furious retort. “Nor did I raise the flag of rebellion and rip our nation apart.”

  “And that’s why you’re a dog,” Azazel sneered. “Zeus was nothing more than a power hungry tyrant. I stood for a world of justice. A world of freedom! If you had any morals, you would’ve abandoned that blasphemous mockery of Prometheus’s Great Work long ago. Clinging to a rotten order is nothing but cowardice. I’m ashamed to have had a mutt like you as an apprentice.”

  “You dare speak of justice while living in this sty,” Remiel derided. The seraph waved his hand, gesturing to the whole hall. “I see nothing but sin and corruption. A world of slaves, sloth, greed, and lust where the weak are trampled by the strong. Is this your world of freedom?”

  “This world is free enough,” Azazel said. “Men might start as slaves, but they can throw off their yoke. They can live great or small. They can seek sin or virtue. They can fight for and die for what they believe in. Heaven’s chains might be unseen, but I say Hell is freer than Heaven will ever be. The Heavenly Will alone is enough. We don’t need anything more. Not Heaven. Nor another Great Work wrought by a mad man with delusions of utopia.”

  The nervous hostess looked between the two arch beings. Fearfully, she spoke, her high and tiny voice interrupting the argument.

  “L-lords…. If you wish to bid…. O-otherwise....”

  Remiel’s gaze snapped to the dryad, making her flinch.

  “Ten billion, two hundred and sixty-seven million soli,” the seraph ground out.

  Azazel let loose a torrent of mocking laughter. “Is that every coin your Inquisition could scrap up, dog?”

  “Money better spent on excavating Lucifer’s poisonous pieces,” Remiel returned.

  The archangel leaned down, whispering something to the blond angel on his right. The blond man nodded, then vanished after casting a spell.

  “Good. Then you’ll keep your dog paws out of Hell, traitorous brat,” Azazel sneered. “Go comb the stars for the Tenth Piece. If the Thirteenth is on Tartarus, I’ll be the one to deal with him.”

  Remiel stared at the asura, electric eyes like frozen ice. Then, without another word, the blue-gray haired angel marched onto the stage. Sylvia’s breath slowed. She was tense. If the Promethean Cults had pulled out a soul this precious, there had to be more to this game than the auction.

  Because this was too easy. Far, far too easy.

  The dryad backed away, letting Remiel approach Jophiel’s caged soul. No other bid was raised in challenge.

  “Congratulations, Lord Remiel,” the hostess said with a curtsy. “On your winning bid of 10.2 billion soli.”

  Remiel scooped the crystal urn off the podium. That’s when the world exploded.

  -oOo-

  Early Heaven

  “For millennia we have lived the golden dream. In our hearts, we have held the firm belief, that so long as we fight for it, the world would become ever better. We have watched the terrible wars of the past fade into an era of peace. We have all embraced the glorious prosperity that followed.

  The Heavenly Will was to be our grandest moment. The day when we engraved morality into the very bones of the netherworld. Those who were born in the past and those who were to be born tomorrow were to see a peace which held for all eternity.

  But now, our dream has turned to dust. The gold has become tarnished, only silver remains.

  It is thus, with a heavy heart, I take upon myself this position. At the behest of those wronged by Zeus’s tyranny, I will prosecute the very Heaven I dedicated my entire life to create.”

  – Lord Baal, First Emperor of Hell

  Creation

  Heaven started nine thousand years ago in the middle of the Golden Age. Its initial origins, however, were seeded nearly two thousand years prior with the formation of the Grand Order of Deities. This council served as a collective forum between multiple pantheons, resolving diplomatic issues as needed. Eventually, the union evolved into an actual governing body, uniting several planes under a single banner.

  Once Heaven was formally inducted, all the neighboring tribes hurried to join. This chain of events was driven by internal desire, diplomacy, and fear of the rapidly rising power.

  With the creation of Heaven was unleashed a wave of prosperity that eclipsed the Age of Magic. From this was born a deep-seated belief that technology and wealth would continue to improve and that peace and unity could stand eternal. This drove the people of the netherworld to make these things happen.

  This golden dream would embrace all the denizens of the nether for three thousand years.

  Golden Age History

  Heaven, at its start, was closer to a confederation of states than a single nation. Driven by the golden dream, Heaven proceeded to absorb most of the existing tribes and nations, offering anyone who would submit tremendous autonomy. This decision, however, would be fraught with problems, leaving the new confederation with many cracks and schisms.

  To resolve this, a political group known as the Federalists formed, aspiring to strengthen the core state by taking away various powers and authorities from the provinces. This worked surprisingly well, as many tribes and provinces clamored for unified laws and regulations. During the late Golden Age, the denizens slowly began to call themselves celestials, the citizens of Heaven rather than demons from their various tribes.

  Yet, no matter how much power was centralized, it was impossible to erase the serious frictions between bloodlines. These fights grew fiercer as Heaven conquered the monsters of old, leading to the rise of a political group called the Purists. The Purists believed that many of the netherworld’s bloodlines were little different than the vanquished monsters and advocated for their elimination. Some, by phasing them out. Others, by means of eradication.

  The tribal factions balked. But the golden dream was a powerful force. This, along with the prosperity of the era, led many parties to look the other way in favor of unity. That was until Zeus unleashed the Heavenly Tribulation.

  The Great Betrayal

  Near the end of the Golden Age, Heaven finished its greatest work, the Heavenly Will. With this divine judge in place, the horrors of the Age of Blood could never be repeated. The Will’s birth led to a period of celebration. Prometheus was crowned Lucifer, the Light Bringer, in honor of his accomplishments.

  Alas, Zeus revealed his scheme. In collaboration with the Choir, the All Father had secretly added a clause to the treaties governing the Heavenly Will. This amendment provided two things: First, all souls brought into the netherworld were citizens of Heaven by default, and were thus subject to Heavenly Law. Second, for the purpose of national security, the Choir could restrict the advancement of souls. Violation of this clause was to be enforced by way of lightning punishment cast by the Heavenly Will.

  These two rules formed the Heavenly Tribulation. No longer could anyone advance in consolidation without being struck by lightning. The people reacted with rage and horror. In response, Zeus and the Federalists suppressed the tribes while offering additional advancement licenses to their loyal supporters.

  Many of whom were Purists.

  But Zeus wasn’t the only party to add a backdoor. Furious that his great work had been perverted, Prometheus spread news of an oath. Those who took this oath would not only be free of the Heavenly Tribulation, their karma would likewise be separated from Heavenly Law.

  The Oath of Prosecution spread rapidly among the people, with greater uptake in the tribes. However, Lucifer had left something unmentioned. Those who took this oath were karmically bound to bring an end to the ‘corrupted state’.

  All this came to a head a hundred years after the Heavenly Will’s birth, when the Devil leaked the full truth of his oath. Then, viciously, Lucifer added a means to easily divine who’d taken it.

  With this began the Utopia War.