In a room void of any windows, the air was saturated with cold heat, hatred and umbrage. Some, who could stand it, stood on the sidelines. The others who did not, fled the room in despair.
Two shirtless, sweaty god-like structured bodies covered in grime, dirt and blood stood in the middle of the large auditorium that was cleared for a combat. A magic involved combat.
Let me just back up a little bit, maybe you’ll understand better.
Back in 1853, Asmodeus, a demon lord, surprisingly fell in love with a mundane. An earthling, you see. He had three children with her, though only one survived long enough to even call it life. He was Nathaniel. But, it doesn’t end there.
Nate was the first demon-human half breed to survive. All of underworld had an eye on him. The demons and gods were not an exception. His survival was a mystery to all. Until Agmon had a son. Damien. Both Asmodeus and Agmon wanted to protect their children from any harm, like most parents do.
So they joined hands and created Brakleys, a home for such peculiar children. Of Gods and Demons alike. The Gods hardly let their children into this institution, for they had camp half-blood for that.
But, Damien was a new case, they found. A minor Goddess who had taken refuge in the mundane world had given birth to him. Damien was a demon god. He never knew who his mother was. He was least bothered though. “Less worries”, he thought.
Back to the story. Over the century, many new talents were born into Brakleys. New comers and the descendants of the old ones stayed there. The institution was a large one now, protected from mundane eyes and wards of magic.
As a demon identity, every student had a tattoo, unique in all cases, wherever. It sort of appeared on them once they had fully manifested their powers. A rare case would be to be able to summon their demons using their energy inside the wards of Brakleys. That is what made some special.
Years passed. Students graduated from Brakleys reached posts no ordinary mundanes could reach without sweating their teeth off. Personalities with their true identity hidden under thick scarves or fur coats. Everything at that reputed institution was monotonous. Until the birth of Nathaniel and Damien juniors.
These two became ‘the’ best friends. They were popular at Brakleys and handsome, almost like every half-breed. They did not swell on their ancestral pride. They had enough off their own. They had powers of the originals. Damien had protected several disasters happening in the classes. And Nathaniel. He saved the wards from collapsing during feral attacks.
Ferals were the ones who could not survive their normal birth. They were the forever living creatures who were neither human nor demon but having the unmixed blood of both in their frail but deadly bodies. Ferals secrete a transparent poison in their mouths which enables them to kill a half breed without any special weapons as they cannot be killed using simple, man-made weapons.
Nate Jr. and Damien Jr. had their reputations in Camp Half-Blood too. They, at tender ages of nineteen had settled peace bonds between their houses. They helped younger demigods with their training and in return they learnt ways to face a God themselves.
Little did they know, they not only had the power of originals, but also the advantage of calling upon themselves their demons using their tattoos. Outside the wards of Brakleys. Without any ceremonies or rituals. The demigods helped them figure that out.
Everything was calm till the elections for the head of the house arrived. It started with fourteen headstrong candidates. It came down to two. You know who they were. The best friends became bitter enemies over three short months. It was a cut-throat competition where merits and demerits were weighed, challenges were posed, demon energies were compared. Each one of them did their best to sabotage the other. No one could single out any one of them. Nate or Damien. That was all anyone thought of lately.
That’s where I come in. I proposed a combat. Something that the Gods did for their thrones. I know. I know. It wasn’t the same situation but no one had a better idea now, did they?
Endless balls of angry fire frenzied around the room. Attacks of flying knives, air gushes, sharp water etc took place. Damien rained icicles on Nathaniel and in return, he got his back pierced with a million tiny shards of mirrors that appeared out of thin air. There was a smell of burning magic that lingered in the air. They both were tired and broken and wounded. Which called for one thing. Something that was feared by all. Something led to now.
The room was almost empty now. The ones who had the courage were sticking to each other, bent, hidden behind the bleachers at sidelines. Some when pulled of the thick tapestries on the walls and wrapped themselves with it, even in the scorching heat of the windowless room, to protect their bodies.
Nate swore under his breath as Damien spread his hands wide and yelled, “Nero, my humble lord of darkness, the demon king, I summon you!” Nate had no time to so much as inhale again as he came down to his knees and used a stray piece of mirror to cut a deep gash into his palm, drawing blood, and spilling it onto the carpeted floor of the auditorium. He recited, “My lord, Azazel, I call upon thee to aid thy soldier in this hour of need. Azazel, my demon God, I pray thee.” His tattoo started to burn and move as black smoke clouded over his head.
Now stood four bodies on the floor. Two demons, most feared, and Nathaniel and Damien. Nero stood there, strong with his pride, unaware of who the other demon was. On the other side of the room, there was a being, not quite solid, crouched over Nathaniel, as all his wounds disappeared, slowly, but surely.
“Stand up, my child. Now fear not, thy lord aids you this day.”, it said, in a calm but cold whisper. The voice chilled the spectators’ spines. And then it look up and closed its eyes. He began to solidify, but not completely. He waved his hand in the air and Damien and Nero were tossed to their sides like ragdolls.
Everyone drew in breaths with fear. As some began to crawl their way towards the only door, Azazel, with a twitch of his fingers shut them up, tightly.
Nero then rose into the air, pushing all his energy into a single ball between his palms and aimed it towards Nate.
“Ah, Nero, your usual attack on the weak to claim power, huh?” , stated Azazel, blocking the energy and absorbing it and solidifying some more. Almost as if he were here.
Every single pair of eyes present in the room widened. Fear, as if a person, lurked around the room.
Nero’s mouth hung open. He muttered, “Lucifer.”
So here it is people! I've written a short cliffhanger after such a long time. Thank you for reading this. Please leave a comment about what you think!
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