69 Some Sheeps Eat Wolves (1/2)
In a faraway world filled with vervain's scent, a sky-piercing sangria castle stood. In that castle's most restricted room, two daemons sat on the opposite sides of a table. One, a striking giantess with dark-purple skin, amethyst eyes and long ink-like hair that draped over her massive breasts. The other, a mix between a wolf, a satyr, and a peacock—Ashera and Adramelech.
Dressed in a black feathered gown, Ashera looked into her right palm and arched an eyebrow.
”The Mark of Greed? Why?” Ashera wondered. The path Kilian set on was one of vindictiveness. Power was just a means to an end, so if he ever fulfilled the requirements for a sin, it should have been wrath. Why did he deviate to greed? Unless his heart no longer fixated on vengeance, even if he transmuted a Flawless Philosopher's Stone, the mark wouldn't take hold. Yet it did. And sensing the Sin Magic flowing in Kilian's soul, Ashera frowned.
By themselves, the Marks of Sin didn't impact her plans. However, her contract with Kilian decreed that once he accomplished all he wished to in the Mortal Plane, she could claim his soul.
Previously, Ashera believed that once Kilian avenged his beloved and destroyed his father—the ensuing void would end his quest—making him ripe for the plucking. But now? He'd not only gone beyond the trappings of vengeance but obtained a sin that ensured he would never have enough. When then could she claim him?
Worse, of all the marks in existence, the Mark of Greed was one of the two with the potential to nullify all contracts. It had to leave.
”Something the matter?” Adramelech pulled Ashera out of her thoughts—and as if reading through the Fehl Overlord's mind—his lips curled into a wolfish grin. Though he too felt the loss of his mark and connection with Kilian—unlike Ashera—he didn't care much.
”Nothing you should worry about,” Ashera replied, and an amiable smile replaced her frown.
”Adramelech, I like you. It's refreshing that a little upstart can boast such ambition and actually live up to his goals. However, you're testing my patience.” Though the daemoness' melodious voice kept its gentle tone, a silent pressure locked Adramelech from all sides.
”I'm not sure I grasp Your Dominion's meaning.” Leaning back, Adramelech met Ashera's mild yet tyrannical gaze. ”For the past 3,000 years, I've always looked for talents among my descendants and granted rewards based on their aptitudes. The boy just so happens to be the most gifted of them all. Why take offense?”
The words made perfect sense. Unfortunately, that alone couldn't sway the Fehl Plane's number one existence.
”Is that so? So you're not planning to test his mental aptitudes through your other descendants, and once certain of his skills, prepare his future ascension by your side?” Ashera rhetorically asked, but not giving Adramelech time to respond, she pursued, ”Don't worry, I understand. To rise above certain limits, your skills alone are not enough. You need to surround yourself with worthy talents. And nowadays, those are few.
A pity that he's off-limits. I can give you two roads. First, give up Achlys and join my banner. I guarantee that I can help you rise above Mazdan, and in due time, helping you claim an Overlord seat is not out of question.
Second, keep misbehaving—and when my little girl rises to Fehl Prince—I will help her take your seat. Fair warning, she's not far off.” Throughout the Fehl Plane, if anyone could so candidly threaten Adramelech, that would be Ashera. After all, though he ranked eighth in the fehl hierarchy, before humanity was a thing, Ashera ranked first.
And if not for the Fehl Plane needing six Overlords, with her strength, the others would have stopped breathing a long time ago. Even among the 66 Princes, many yearned for an opportunity to switch sides and pledge themselves to Ashera's service.
Adramelech had no such intent.