The world above was a wasteland, scorched by the fires of the Hollows , but down here, in the bowels of the earth, something older and far more dangerous stirred. His boots crunched against the jagged floor, the sound echoing off the walls of the subterranean chamber. He adjusted the tattered shirt around his shoulders, its edges frayed from months of wandering this world.
I really need new clothes...
His breath was shallow, not from fear but from the strange numbness creeping through his body...a sensation that had begun weeks ago and grown stronger with every step toward this place.
Belial was no stranger to the unnatural. He'd faced Hollows, those mindless husks that roamed the surface, and even tangled with the Dangerous kaijus that haunted the old cities in the demon realm. But this was different. His hand tingled, the skin prickling as if tiny currents of electricity danced beneath it.
He flexed his fingers, watching them tremble slightly. It wasn't just his hand—his entire body felt caught in a paradox, weak yet brimming with a power he couldn't fully grasp, deteriorating yet somehow reforming not in a healing type of way just...reforming. He clenched his jaw, pushing the thought aside. There was no time for doubt. The chrysalis awaited.
The cavern opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in shadow. At its center stood the object of his journey: a massive chrysalis, black as obsidian, its surface pulsing faintly with veins of sickly grey light. It loomed over him, easily thrice his height, its presence oppressive, like a weight pressing against his chest.
Belial's lips curled into a grin, though there was no humor in it. "Poor baby," he murmured, his voice low and mocking. "You must be starving."
He'd spent days Trying to create a potent poisonous ether, bending it to his will. If he could feed the chrysalis, weaken it, and kill it he would have a way to escape this hell hole without lifting a damned finger.
He raised his hands, palms outward, and closed his eyes. The ether particles within him stirred, a faint hum resonating in his bones. He channeled them outward, a shimmering stream of light that flowed from his fingertips to the chrysalis.
The black surface drank it greedily, the green veins flaring brighter with each passing second. The process was slow, agonizingly so, and Belial felt his strength ebbing away. His knees buckled, but he forced himself to stay upright, sweat beading on his brow. A minute passed, then another. His ether was nearly gone, his body trembling from the strain.
Finally, he lowered his hands, gasping for breath. The chrysalis pulsed once, then fell still. Belial staggered back, his vision swimming. "Eat well," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Grow nice and weak for papa."
For a moment, there was silence. Then a pressure slammed into him, heavy and oppressive, like a storm breaking over his soul. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. He'd felt this before, years ago, when he'd confronted Cole in his office. It was the aura of the apocalypse, raw and malevolent, a force that crushed hope and devoured will.
The chrysalis hadn't liked its meal.
Not one bit.
"What?" Belial snapped, his voice echoing in the chamber.
"You didn't like your food? We're not rich, you get what you get!" His bravado was hollow, and he knew it. The pressure grew stronger, pressing against his skull, making his ears ring. He took a step back, his hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at his belt. It wouldn't do much against whatever was coming, but it was better than nothing.
Then he heard it—a low, grinding sound, like stone scraping against stone. His eyes darted around the chamber, searching for the source. The walls seemed to shift, the walls themselves coming alive.
No, not the walls.
The statues. Dozens of them lined the chamber, carved from crystal and stone, their faceless heads turned toward the chrysalis. Guardians, he realized, his stomach twisting. They were meant to protect the chrysalis, activated by the presence of ether. And he'd just poured every ounce of his into their ward.
Belial's grin faded. "Rocks falling? No… crystals moving. Statues moving!" He had to get out, fast.
His eyes flicked to the spiral staircase at the far end of the chamber, the only way in. He sprinted toward it, his boots pounding against the floor. The numbness in his body slowed him, his limbs heavy and unresponsive, but adrenaline kept him moving. He reached the base of the stairs, his heart hammering in his chest.
The statues were already there.
They stood at the foot of the stairs, silent and unyielding, their crystalline forms glinting in the faint light. Each was humanoid, but their proportions were wrong—too tall, too angular, their limbs ending in jagged claws. Belial skidded to a halt, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Hey… fellas," he said, forcing a smile. "How about we talk this out?"
The statues didn't reply. They didn't need to. The nearest one lunged, its claw slashing through the air with terrifying speed. Belial threw himself to the side, the attack missing him by inches. He hit the ground hard, rolling to his feet just as another statue charged. Its claw grazed his hand, slicing through flesh and bone. Pain exploded in his mind as one of his fingers fell to the floor, blood pooling beneath it.
Belial bit back a scream, his vision blurring. The statues were fast—faster than the Hollows, faster than anything he'd faced before. He couldn't fight them, not like this. His ether was drained, his body failing him. There was only one option left.
He unfurled his wings.
They burst from his back, tattered and leathery, the remnants of an experiment gone wrong years ago. They weren't pretty, but they worked. Belial launched himself into the air, his wings beating furiously as he soared toward the ceiling. The statues gave chase, their claws scraping against the stone as they raced up the spiral stairs. They were surprisingly fast, their movements precise and relentless.
Belial's heart pounded in his ears, the pain throbbing in his severed finger. He flew higher, weaving through the stalactites that hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth. The chamber was a maze of crystal and stone, but he knew the layout well enough to navigate it. The dark door was close, its massive frame carved with runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. If he could reach it, he might have a chance.
The statues were gaining, their claws clicking against the stairs. Belial pushed himself harder, his wings straining under the effort. The numbness in his body was spreading, making every movement a struggle. He could feel the apocalypse's aura pressing against him, a constant reminder of the danger he was in. But he wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.
He dove toward the door, his wings folding tightly against his back. The statues lunged, their claws slashing through the air, but he was too fast. He hit the ground in a roll, scrambling to his feet as the dark door loomed before him. With a final burst of strength, he threw himself against it, the runes flaring brightly as the door recognized his presence.
It swung open, revealing a tunnel beyond. Belial stumbled through, his breath ragged, his body screaming in protest. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing like a thunderclap. The statues' claws scraped against the other side, but the runes held. For now.
Belial collapsed against the wall, his chest heaving. Blood dripped from his severed finger, pooling on the floor. He let out a shaky laugh, the sound bordering on hysteria. "Well," he muttered, "that could've gone better."
The tunnel was dark, its walls slick with moisture. He didn't know where it led, but it was away from the chrysalis and its guardians. That was enough for now. He pushed himself to his feet, his wings folding back into his body. The numbness was still there, but so was the strange power, pulsing faintly in his veins.
But he was successful, now he needed to do this two more times today...
Belial took a step forward, then another, his grin returning. "Round two, baby," he whispered. "Papa's not done with you yet."