Malerion was almost back to Sin Rouge when the world tilted behind his eyes.
Not physically.
Mentally through the link he now shared with Alastor.
Ever since breaking into the Fifth Ring, their awareness could bleed into each other.
Not constantly.
Only when something massive happened.
And something massive had just happened.
Alastor's voice slid into his mind, sharp and amused:
"Oh… this is going to be exquisite."
Malerion slowed.
Show me.
Alastor didn't bother speaking.
Instead, Malerion felt the environment around him dissolve
then rebuild itself in a new shape.
He was suddenly seeing through Alastor's eyes.
A ruined watchtower in Pride Ring.
Wind.
Ash.
Distant screams.
And below…
A battlefield.
if you can call that the execution that took place before their eyes
THE BROKEN OVERLORD
A newly ascended Overlord staggered in the center of a shattered courtyard.
Huge.
Scarred.
Still dripping with the raw, unstable power of someone who had achieved Overlord status through chaos and brute violence, not mastery.
Dark blood poured from deep cuts.
His breathing was ragged.
One arm hung uselessly from a crushed shoulder.
Someone had already done this to him.
Someone precise.
Someone ancient.
Malerion felt it before he saw it.
A presence older than storms.
Older than kingdoms.
PRINCE PAIMON ONE OF THE FIRST PRINCE GOETIA
He stepped into view with the quiet authority of a god walking through dust.
Tall.
Regal.
Adorned in deep purples and gold.
Eyes cold and pale as the birth of time itself.
Prince Paimon.
The one of the eldest Goetia.
A being older than the concept of Hell's "history."
The air bent around him without sound.
Alastor whispered:
"Take notes."
SPACE ITSELF LOCKS DOWN
The wounded Overlord roared and hurled himself at Paimon, claws spiraling with raw demonic energy.
Paimon didn't move.
Not an inch a blink.
He raised one finger.
Space compressed instantly.
A perfect cube of frozen reality wrapped around the Overlord, trapping his body mid-lunge.
Muscles bulged.
Bones cracked.
The Overlord tried to move but space refused to let him.
"W-WHAT!? Why can't I MOVE?!"
Paimon's voice carried the weight of a billion years:
"You trespassed on my territory.
Without rite.
Without request.
Without respect."
He stepped closer.
"That requires correction."
THE ESCAPE ATTEMPT
The Overlord forced out a roar.
For a split second, the cube cracked
space warped
and he sprang free, sprinting desperately across the courtyard.
He didn't get far.
Paimon pointed again.
Space folded behind the Overlord, slammed into him like a tidal wave of gravity, and hurled him back at the prince's feet.
The Overlord gasped, bleeding heavily now.
"P-Prince Paimon I I can change my allegiance"
Paimon didn't listen.
THE HOLY STEEL
A blade materialized in his hand.
Not fiery flashy demonic glow.
Just pure, spotless, ancient steel
the kind forged long before Hell learned its own rules.
Holy Steel.
The only weapon capable of destroying the soul of a sinner Overlord.
Without it, the creature would resurrect forever.
The Overlord stared in horror.
"W-wait WAIT don't DON'T !! I can still SERVE !!"
Paimon's voice was a verdict handed down across millennia:
"Your service was never required."
He drove the blade into the Overlord's chest.
There was no heavenly burst.
No dramatic explosion.
Just a deep, final sound
like a door locking shut.
The Overlord convulsed once.
Twice.
And then went still.
His body remained, heavy and broken on the courtyard stones.
Blood pooled beneath it.
But his soul the part that would have crawled back
was gone forever.
Paimon wiped the blade clean with a motion too old to be ceremonial.
"Overlords born from impulse are fragile.
When they threaten order, I remove them."
Space parted in front of him and closed behind him as he walked away.
Without hurry and anger.
Just duty.
BACK TO MALERION
The vision snapped.
Malerion stumbled as he reentered his own senses, breath sharp in his chest.
Alastor chuckled darkly:
"A little overwhelming, hm?"
Malerion didn't answer immediately.
He could still feel the weight of Paimon's presence, like a pressure in the bones.
Finally:
That's… the level I'm aiming for?
Alastor hummed.
"If you live long enough?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Fifth Ring puts you beside me."
"The Sixth will put you on the path toward THEM."
Malerion clenched his hand, feeling his newfound stability settle deeper.
Paimon's techniques
the frozen space,
compression,
directionless folding
all danced in his thoughts.
He whispered:
"Not yet."
Alastor's grin echoed in his mind.
"But you will."