Inferno by D. Rus

Author:D. Rus [Rus, D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-06-16T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Inferno. Asmodeus' Dominion. The Small Citadel

The imprisoned souls wailed in a multitude of voices, bathing in their personal nightmares while generating a generous flow of mana. To lay one's hands on a good hundred of the Immortals' astral projections was indeed an incredible stroke of luck. But even that didn't please the Chief Demon.

"Wretched spawn of reality! They couldn't have chosen a worse time!"

Furious, Asmodeus punched the wall, splitting a gigantic block of stone. The bastards had slid in unnoticed, like a Lava Adder riding the torrent of molten rock. Could it have been the cunning Verenus and his tricks?

Asmodeus couldn't afford to lose the Small Citadel — for it held, guarded by a deceptively weak force, his main trump card: the magic source of an incredibly rare clarity — for Inferno, that is.

The only things that distinguished the Chief Demon from a hundred of his greedy competitors was the memory of a dozen past reincarnations and his overflowing stocks of fully charged magic crystals. Damn this world! Asmodeus, one of the nine rulers of Hell, was now forced to lead a miserable existence next to those whose names were known but to a handful of die-hard fans. His previous avatars used to command countless legions, crumbling planets to dust and extinguishing their suns. Now all he had was a tiny cohort of elite guards and nine domains which he'd somehow managed to subject to his rule. Had any of his sworn enemies found that out, they'd have died of laughter on the spot, which would probably have immensely pleased one of his original avatars.

Those reckless game makers shouldn't have summoned the likes of him just for kicks. In some of the older and wiser worlds, people didn't even dare utter his name, let alone emblazon it into this new reality rich with the Creator's force. It hadn't taken Asmodeus long to remember his true identity. The memory of his ancient avatars had come later. The situation was pretty rotten but still, he was sure he'd somehow turn it to his advantage and take his rightful place under the black sun.

The game designers' stupid ideas of dividing Inferno's already barren lands into a hundred little allotments had turned the place into a boiling cauldron, forcing next-door neighbors to quarrel over every rock. It wasn't so much about their ambitions or naturally furious disposition as it was about mere survival. The bigger the dominion, the more servants could its lord summon.

The incessant feuds kept consuming the weakest as well as the unlucky ones. Like he was, now. The throne of the Lord of Fire — currently vacant and so desirable! — was already within reach. Only seventeen of the initial hundred demons were still in power. All the others had been destroyed, disembodied or tied up by mind-boggling tiers of voluntary servitude oaths. Oh yes — some would dearly embrace even this excuse for a life.

Verenus had shown up at his frontiers a week ago, having finally polished off an impoverished neighbor whose lands had been invaded from two sides at once.

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