18 Mordrake

Memories more vivid and revealing than those of any other epic demon surged into Alex's consciousness, sowing a seed of unease within him.

This particular demon stood apart from the rest, bearing a profound history. Alex discerned that this demon held a prominent position within a structured society—an actual kingdom. This revelation was astonishing, as it was the only sign of civilization in the desolate and uncharted demon region. The demon had held a noble title within this kingdom, it possessed an astonishing age of 1137 this year, and its existence had intersected with another demon hitherto unknown to Alex—a legendary demon.

'This demon…although I've never laid eyes on a legendary demon before, this one...exudes a formidable power, i doubt i could beat it….for now'

  Alex pondered, his self-confidence momentarily shaken as he compared himself to the imposing figure glimpsed in this demon's recollections.

[There exists a vast chasm in the hierarchy beyond the epic rank. Picture it as mountains—the higher the rank, the taller the mountain. The epic rank stands as the tallest peak, dwarfing even Mount Everest in its enormity. However, upon ascending to the legendary rank, the gap expands exponentially, resembling the abyss between heaven and earth. However yes, indeed this demon surpasses the typical legendary demon in power.]

The system's cold, mechanical voice conveyed this invaluable insight to Alex.

Nevertheless, this particular demon would remain a distant enigma for now, compelling Alex to prioritise the demon before it over all else

In its memories, he glimpsed a hierarchical structure that bore striking resemblances to human societies. 

However most demons in this desolate region roamed aimlessly, devoid of purpose, and seldom encountered civilization. The fortunate few might stumble upon the kingdom to which this demon belonged—the Kingdom of Diabloith. Alex gleaned that the highest rank within this demon's kingdom was the legendary rank, 

'It seems I'm lucky ....a kingdom full of epic ranked demons with a legendary rank as the peak of power there, thank god there are no demons above that rank, perhaps ... .this so-called king could give me information on the higher ranks! And hmm…it seems Anubis 1 and 2 are indeed rare…nothing can be found of demons forming from another's blood…' 

Curiously, this cunning demon remained oblivious to the existence of other demon kingdoms that the king had once hinted at, dismissing them as mere myths. Arrogance clouded its judgement, firmly convinced that its kingdom was singular in its kind.

And yet this demon 

....

Mordrake's noble abode was a sanctuary of opulence within the heart of the royal palace. He sat in an ornate chair of polished mahogany, his fingers delicately tracing the intricate patterns etched into the armrest. The room exuded wealth and prestige, with golden sunlight filtering through lavish draperies to cast shimmering rays upon rich tapestries that adorned the walls.

Within this lavish setting, Mordrake's thoughts unfurled like silken threads. He contemplated the ever-shifting currents of court politics, each move a calculated step in this elaborate dance of power.

'Hmm'

He mused inwardly, considering the alliances and rivalries that ebbed and flowed in the royal court. 

"The Duke of Calderon seems to be doing well….His use may run out sooner than expected."

His echoing laughter rang out throughout his mansion of ruin, not even 10 seconds later becoming a deathly silence

His fingers paused their delicate dance along the armrest as he formulated his next move. His role as a master of court intrigue was a mantle he wore with pride, and he understood that timing was of the essence.

"I should summon a maid to inform Calderon of the next part of the plan," Mordrake declared aloud, his voice firm but polite. The command was given with a sense of authority that came naturally to him.

Duke Calderon was a prominent figure in Valeria's aristocracy, known for his wealth and cunning. Mordrake had long observed the duke's ambition, a quality he found both useful and potentially dangerous. Their relationship was a complex web of mutual benefit and cautious trust.

Several years prior, a significant incident had strained Mordrake's standing with the king. It involved an intricate web of rumours and allegations, all pointing at Mordrake's involvement in a conspiracy against the throne. Although there was no concrete evidence to support these claims, they had left a lingering shadow over Mordrake's reputation.

This was where Duke Calderon came into play. In his pursuit of favour with the king, the duke sought to expose and eliminate any potential threats to the throne, a position Mordrake had once held firmly. By doing so, Calderon aimed to position himself as the king's most trusted advisor, gaining unparalleled influence in the royal court.

Mordrake recognized that the duke's ambitions aligned with his own, albeit for different reasons. While Calderon aimed to consolidate power, Mordrake sought to regain the king's trust and rebuild his tarnished reputation. Their collaboration was an intricate dance of manipulation and strategy, each using the other to achieve their goals.

For Mordrake, having Calderon as an ally meant a powerful figure within the court who could deflect attention and suspicion away from him. The duke's tireless efforts to expose potential threats inadvertently shielded Mordrake from the king's scrutiny, allowing him to work from the shadows to restore his former influence and standing. It was a delicate game of politics, with each move carefully calculated to ensure their mutual success.

Mordrake's ambitions ran even deeper than mere reputation restoration. He harboured a secret plan, and it involved Duke Calderon playing a central role.

While outwardly presenting himself as Calderon's trusted friend, Mordrake was clandestinely working to elevate the duke to the throne. It was a meticulously orchestrated scheme designed to make Calderon the next king, a position he coveted dearly. This plan serves multiple purposes for Mordrake.

Firstly, by aiding Calderon's ascent to the throne, Mordrake could maintain his position of influence in the royal court without any suspicions. He would become the trusted advisor of the new king, manipulating the throne from behind the scenes. This would allow him to rebuild his political capital and gather resources to execute the second part of his plan.

Secondly, Calderon would serve as an effective distraction, diverting any suspicion away from Mordrake. The duke's relentless pursuit of potential threats to the throne created the perfect smokescreen for Mordrake's clandestine activities. It was a symbiotic relationship where both men benefited, at least temporarily.

However, Mordrake's true intention was far from benevolent. Once Calderon had ascended to the throne and placed his trust entirely in Mordrake, the loyal advisor would execute a cunning and ruthless backstabbing manoeuvre. With the king under his complete control, Mordrake would orchestrate a plan to remove Calderon from power, either through political manipulation or even more sinister means.

The endgame was simple but perilous—Mordrake aimed to take the throne for himself, becoming the undisputed ruler of Diabloith. It was a high-stakes gamble, and Mordrake was well aware of the risks involved. Nonetheless, his desire for power and vengeance fueled his determination to see the plan through to its treacherous conclusion.

  With a bellow that reverberated through the room and into the corridor, Mordrake called out, "Maid! I require your presence."

The sound of his voice echoed down the corridor, the urgency of his summons unmistakable. A nearby maid, an uncommon insect demon, upon hearing his demand, hastened down the ornate hallway. Her footsteps, muted by the plush carpets that adorned the floor, betrayed her approach.

As she reached the door to Mordrake's chamber, she extended a hand to turn the gilded knob. Pushing the door open, she expected to find Mordrake seated in his chair, ready to issue his commands.

However, as the door swung open with a soft creak, it revealed an empty room. Mordrake, who had just moments ago occupied the chair, had vanished without a trace. The maid's eyes widened in shock as she surveyed the empty chamber, her bewilderment palpable.

Her voice quivered slightly as she muttered to herself, "Where... where did he go?"

...

[Lord Scythe, The Lord Of Hell, summons you]

.....

'Emerging from the cave, I was overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions, a chaotic dance of shock, awe, and sheer disbelief. My thousand-year-old heart raced like a mad drummer, and my ancient mind couldn't quite comprehend the bizarre reality unfolding before my eyes.

I took in the nightmarish landscape with a sense of sinister delight. It was like a carnival of the macabre, a fiendish amusement park where every twisted fantasy came to life. Epic demons, towering over their lesser kin, engaged in the most gruesome acts of torture, and instead of feeling repulsed, I found myself chuckling—a sinister, clown-like laughter that bubbled up from deep within my being.

The methods they employed were beyond gruesome, yet my curiosity overrode any sense of revulsion. I watched with dark amusement as they revelled in their sadistic games. It was as if I had stumbled into the ultimate playground for a demon, and I couldn't help but relish the absurdity of it all.

And then, I saw him—the figure who held dominion over this nightmarish realm, the Lord of Hell himself, Scythe. My laughter died down, replaced by a sly grin as I marvelled at his sheer power and presence. This was no mere demon lord; he was a force of nature, a living nightmare that defied explanation.

At that moment, I couldn't contain my amusement. I chuckled again, but this time it was tinged with a touch of madness. It felt like I had been invited to the grandest, most deranged circus in existence, and Scythe was the ringmaster, orchestrating a macabre spectacle that defied all reason.

As I watched Scythe, my mind buzzed with excitement and malevolent curiosity. I knew that this encounter would change everything, thrusting me into a world of darkness, power, and treacherous ambition. And I was ready to play my part in this wicked theatre, where the boundaries of reality blurred, and the only rule was to embrace the chaos with a wicked grin.

The concept of Hell had always been shrouded in myth and legend. Long ago, the king had regaled me with tales of this nightmarish realm—a paradise for demons, a place of unimaginable torment for all other beings. In those stories, the Lord of Hell was depicted as a god among demons, a ruler whose power and cruelty were unrivalled. My king had described the intricacies of torture, the demonic role in existence, and the sheer reverence that demons held for their lord.

But in stark contrast to those vivid tales, the barren demon region where we resided was devoid of such paradise. Our relentless searches had never led us to any humans, and the reality was far from what the legends had promised. It was a desolate land, far from the promised paradise.'

"I GREET SCYTHE, THE LORD OF HELL, SHALL YOUR REIGN BE ETERNAL!"