The air in Hell was already putrid enough to breath in, but after the cataclysmic battle that raged on between Doom, The Slayer, and Hell Lord Mephisto, the air itself had turned into a broiling curse that afflicted those ill enough to remain in the vicinity and breath in the deathly air.
Lesser demons found themselves bleeding through every number of orifice they had while also suffering magical backlash. High demons suffered the same but they could suppress the effects for a short while until they no longer could.
A Plague that targeted everything that scampered around the dimensional pockets near Mephisto's castle.
The affliction was so severe that every dimensional tear and portal in the affected lands were being closed as quickly as they could.
It was a disaster in which most denizens of Hell had never witnessed, but like everything that happened down here, every misfortune was a fortune to be had.
It wasn't just other Hell Lords that were interested in what had happened, but also every other demon, and then ones who dared to venture into the death clouds in search of opportunities were those strong enough to survive inside it.
Among these were a group of demons that advanced into the eye of the deathstorm under the canopy of powerful protection spells.
The fact that someone or something had battled the Hell Lord, Mephisto, in his own castle and had turned the place to ruin was too salivating for any scheming demon to ignore.
"We are approaching the eye. How certain are we that the shield will persist?" A muscular purple skinned demon asked as he observed the infernal scribbles around his body.
"Lord Belasco and I researched its potency. It won't break, not to this storm. Your lack of faith is unamusing, S'ym." N'astirh, a powerful demonic sorcerer with a bestial appearance, admonished with disdain.
"I'm not doubting. I just want clarification." S'ym remarked as he led the group of devoted demons as they did their master's bidding.
The magical explosion of whatever battle was had here was so potent that it reverberated even to the farthest and deepest reaches of Hell and other nearby and connected dimensions, even Limbo.
Even now, between the mist of the deathly storm, the waves of a potent magic rubbed over their skin.
"I sense movements." Witchfire, a powerful sorceress of the arcane and the dark magics, and also Belasco's daughter by the name of Ananym, called out from where she trailed behind S'ym. Her magical senses were so great that the storm hardly impeded it.
"Other parties. Whoever they are, they are closer to our destination." She warned. They immediately sped up, running safely through the storm, to get to the unknown party that was near their Master's treasure.
"Who–" The horned demon that sensed their arrival did not get the chance to speak as a purple hand crushed its throat before ripping its head off.
"Halt! We are servants of–"
"Die." Infernal binds that cackled with red lightning wrapped around the fool who dared to speak and drained their life as it devoured their flesh. Witchfire looked at the last two demons who were now attempting to flee and teleported to bar their path.
"We are–"
"I don't care." She scoffed as flames consumed their screams. Idiots who thought that names always mattered in Hell met similar ends.
"We're here." Witchfire announced after a deep breath, feeling the wrong magic that pricked at her skin. It felt as if it was trying to burn away at her senses. "It's buried under these ruins."
"Anyone else?" N'astirh asked.
"We're alone."
S'ym grinned maliciously at another success whereas N'astirh remained nonchalant as he spread his wings and pressed his palm against the ground as he began a chant.
Witchfire followed and as they synced chants, the ruins started rumbling and were slowly raised up. A red glow burst out from under the rocks, stunning Witchfire and N'astirh with the wave of power they felt from it. It bolstered their efforts and they poured more magic into the spell and pushed away the mountain-sized rubble to the side.
"What is that?" S'ym asked as he stared at the ominously glowing sword. The blazing symbols on it felt as if they were burning their image into his eyes, almost forcing him to look away.
"That is Lord Belasco's prize." N'astirh muttered with awe as he pushed himself with a flap of his wings towards the terrible weapon.
The power and destruction they could feel from it was almost as if it was forged from the dying screams of a vengeful god.
The intense heat and energy it released were so threatening that N'astirh did not dare go closer to attempt to pick it up.
"It is burning my magic." Witchfire scowled as her magic and telekinesis simply evaporated before touching the blade.
"I have an idea." N'astirh said as he summoned a gauntlet made of stone, a magical artifact, and wrapped it in a multitude of spells.
Under S'ym and Witchfire's watchful gaze, N'astirh looked upon the weapon with contempt and gripped its hilt with his gauntleted arm that instantly burned red on contact.
"For Lord Belasc–"
"Heresy."
The voice was so unexpected and grim that their first reaction was shock as they could not sense where it came from. Their shock was not given the chance to fade away as both demons watched in horror as a gauntleted hand tore free from the ground and grabbed N'astirh's melting hand that was gripping the sword.
"This king's weapon is not one to be held by such lowly beings."
N'astirh's screams grew in horror as the flames grew and engulfed his entire arm and started eating quickly at his body.
Witchfire reacted and severed the limb holding the sword while S'ym pulled the dismembered demon away.
"Show yourself, wr–"
"This king fails to remember giving you permission to speak." The dark armored warrior emerged from the ground and stared at them.
Ananym already hated him. The prideful man(for it was a man), she could tell, was looking down on them with disdain.
S'ym attacked the fool that left himself open while she readied her spell only for her spell to falter as she saw S'ym – S'ym who had an indestructible body that was impervious to damage, both magical and physical – cleanly bisected from top to bottom before he broke into magic essence that was absorbed by the man.
Her head snapped towards N'astirh – who looked unable to heal from his wounds – just in time to see his head being blown off. Her head jerked back to the armored warrior to see him wielding a cannon on one hand. Even now her magic failed to sense him.
Her confidence and contempt instantly shattered as survival mode took over. Something had fought Mephisto in his home. She was staring right at it.
Her world changed as she instantly teleported far away from the plague.
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Doom looked at the spot where the demon just teleported away from and temporarily ignored it.
His mind recalibrated itself and reconstructed the battle with Mephisto and although the Hell Lord managed to slither away, Doom wasn't distraught. Mephisto was a lot harder to kill in Hell, he knew that, but fighting him reconfirmed what he already knew.
The Crucible could harm the demon and even kill it but the demon had multiple ways to ensure its life remained tethered — like using the dimension and the demons living in it as a substitute.
Whatever it was, it didn't matter because the vermin ran away with grave wounds when it sensed death by making a last desperate attack.
He closed his fists with a pleased hum. With Mephisto gone he no longer had any reason to restrict his magic.
He pulled out the Purgatory Card and saw that a good portion of the devil's image still remained for whatever reason and nodded in understanding. Doom was no knave. He repaid his favors in equal measure.
Now, concerning those rats who thought to plunder from the king's treasury.
He fed his magic to his armor and weapons and felt them hum in anticipation. His dear mother was safe. Since his benefactor saw fit to extend his stay, Doom decided to give his repayments to those foolish demons.
He walked towards the spot where the woman teleported from, felt the lingering tether of magic and pulled on it, and stepped through the portal that opened.
The demon walking in front of him lost its head before it realized that someone had teleported into the warded city.
Doom felt different senses and scrying, both from the demons and the ward, blindly wash over him. His senses locked onto the frazzled magic of the demon who escaped up in the center tower, and his march started.
Every demon that blindly crossed his path was mercilessly cut down, mostly in splintering bones and showers of blood, with every floor he climbed.
His magic rendered them immobile under its might, while his weaponry reaped their lives. A dual harmony basked in slaughter.
He slowed his march when he came across a room with a lot of seals on it door, and playing to native curiosity, he ripped apart the door and seals with his hands.
Inside the room, sitting in the middle of a blood red pentagram was a child, one whose soul was a bit older than their body, his magic told him.
The child opened their eyes, hiding their surprise and fear behind a passable mask of indifference.
"And who the hell are you?"
"Such uncouth words. Mind your manners when you speak, child." Doom was no lowly man that took to threatening children as his magic was masterfully wrapped around his body, but the minute flinch she showed made him take note of her sharp magical senses.
"Answer me, child: who are you and what is your purpose in this tower?"
She looked upon him with distrust but kept herself smart enough to answer him moderately.
"Illyana," she spoke tentatively, still uncertain of the situation, "and in case you missed it, currently a prisoner/student/sacrifice. All unwilling, in case you want specifications."
Having already analyzed the matrix she sat on during their short conversation, Doom lifted his hand that had three green magic circles rotating around it, and started deconstructing the spell with obvious ease.
Doom could tell that she was human despite the overcompensating demonic taint that clung to her.
"Follow me. From this moment on, Doom has set you free. I will bring you back to earth once I clean the filth at the top of this tower."
He saw her reaction to her new jarring reality and also saw the dose of fear that was injecting her spirit.
"Maste—Belasco. He's fuc—" she stopped herself when she sensed his dissatisfaction at her banal words. strong sorcerer. "He's a very strong sorcerer. The strongest I've ever seen."
"A prisoner like you has no comprehension of the word 'strength'. You shame yourself by speaking of it." He turned around to leave and she followed slowly, visibly hesitant but nevertheless unable to ignore the lures of hope.
The end of the tower came into sight, sectioned by two heavy doors that were inlaid with magic, that meant absolutely nothing as Doom blasted them off their hinges.
Inside he saw the cowardly demon standing behind a man and brimming with confidence built atop ignorance. The man, a powerful sorcerer by the magic that flowed around him, regarded him with wise caution that was soon tainted by rage when he saw the child.
"And who might you be, warrior? Your arrogance, however bloated, is undeniable to your strength. Not to mention, you possess something I want." The sorcerer, Belasco, spoke with the same air as courtly charlatans, weaving lies into their words and the silk they wear. "You killed my loyal subjects and earned a death sentence in return."
His magic crashed down like a tidal wave as seventeen spells weaved themselves in conjunction and obscurity – Doom counted.
"I'll give you a single chance: bend the knee, surrender the blade and plead your service."
Doom did not care to entertain the inane spouting of a rodent naming itself king and had flattened itself on the gluttony of its delusions.
—The Unmaykr (DOOM Series): This sleek, moral and holy piece of alien weaponry is the introverted counterpart to the BFG.
The ultimate focused weapon that, instead of doing damage, it simply deletes the structural/biological integrity of its target. Little to none have a sustainable defense against this Argent-fueled divine weapon.
*Kindly leave a review after every Hell excursion. {RIP AND TEAR!}
The moment the gun appeared, five shots of green energy were fired – three at the fool and two at the fool behind him.
Belasco hastily erected magic shields while the woman tried teleporting but Belasco's shield instantly shattered as parts of his body stopped being a collective, while the woman's teleportation faltered as Doom's magic clamped down hard on her for a moment before the plasma blast killed her. A pesky one she was.
He could sense Belasco trying to escape in some way but he refused his cowardice and wrapped him up in a hold of potent magic before turning to Illyana.
"What would you have me do to him, child?" The Flames in her eyes needed to be stoked instead of being smothered and he was glad when they blazed even brighter.
"I want to do it." She said and he nodded.
He would never suffer a child to blood their hands but Illyana was no simple child. So he watched.
He watched with interest as her rage coalesced and the magic of her soul birthed forth a weapon. A weapon forged from the core of one's soul. Her potential was astonishing.
There was no reaction from him when the sorcerer's life thread burnt up, instead he watched the eyes of the child to see what changed in her soul.
"When we return I'll train you." He said and slightly frowned when he saw the wave of fear and despair that washed over her after his words. "You have the right to refuse. It would be a shame to see such potential go uncultivated."
"And my family?" She tried but failed to hide her trepidations.
"By my word, I will bring you to your family before the week runs out." Doom vowed.
"And how long is that?" She asked, looking up at his mask.
"Less than 48 hours from now." He brought out the card and saw that the image was at its last line. He grabbed her hand and pushed his magic into the card. "We leave now, child."
"You know I'm not really a child, right?" she said with a childish frown. "I'm probably like 16 or 17. At least that's how long I've spent in this hell hole."
"Still a child regardless." A gale of red wind rose up around them as their departure from Hell and its environs commenced.
"Mother—"
"Mind your language." He chastised sternly.
"Argh! Come on!"
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A/N: I wanted to keep Doom silent but quickly scrapped that idea. I hope it's not as cringe as I fear, y'know, with the way Doom speaks and everything.
Doom and Illyana - the thought came to me for some reason and I found it hilarious so I decided to write it out and see how it goes.
Here's to hoping that Mikhail and Piotr are ready for the unavoidable family reunion.
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