Pardaminion, Hours before Entry

Lucifer

The holy and pious followers prepared their god for war.

She knelt down upon her altar on high, hands outstretched as she glowed a holy aura. Her attendants anointed her in oil, combing her long golden hair, and whispering chants and prayers in her name. She overlooked all of her creation in Abbadon, atop the floating dias above her kingdom. She could hear and feel the sacrifices being made in her name. She drank deep into the inflow of power, similar to a demon. She learned how to obtain power in any way possible eons ago. The mixture of ecstasy and agony multiplied the effects of her swell.

She observed all of her creation, the glory and beauty, the dedication and worship.

It was all pointless.

Pointless.

Pointless!

The Seal holders were still out of her grasp apart from her beloved Saoirse. The universe had not bent completely to her will. Her small dominion was only that; a delusion of grandeur. She needed more. More planets. More people. More worship. It would never be enough until every molecule aligned to her will.

She rose to her feet, allowing them to clothe her in her dugrum silk jumpsuit. Rings and jeweled Thrones of all sorts were adorned throughout her body. She opened her eyes, seeing the averted gazes of her acolytes. The gold and diamond glinted off her aura.

“Let’s begin,” she announced coyly.

She marched to the edge of the dias, gazing down into the mixture of divine and chaotic hellscape below. Abbadon. Her new creation. Her new universe. Her most powerful Throne. Four wings of adamantite blossomed from behind her back, carrying her skyward.

She rushed like light down to her palace, landing inside the courtyard of gold and ivory. Her Chosen ones and Champions all lined the outer edges. Several marched up to her, holding her holy relics and best friends.

Her original Thrones.

Roaring Lion. A sentient suit of pristine adamantite armor.

Falling Star. Her transcendent vessel of war.

Apollyon. The perfect blade of destruction.

Belial. Scalpel of agony and most treasured friend.

Beezlebub. Blade of woe. Sister knife to Belial.

And finally, Satan.

She marched to Roaring Lion, allowing the suit to open up and intomb her inside. The armor scissor-shisked as it moved, each plate and pattern delicately and precisely crafted. She sheathed both Belial and Beezlebub as she brushed aside her hair-cape, attaching Falling Star to the segment in her armor’s spine. It clicked in place as she trembled at the intimate mental link.

Finally, she gripped Apollyon, raising it high and clapping the forked blade shut. She then hefted it over her shoulder, staring at her followers.

“It’s time,” she began.

“Time for the false Adonai to abandon his claim upon this universe. It is time for all reality to bend its knee to me.”

They silently listened, their armor glinting and gleaming in the divine light.

“Let there be no more truth, no more peace, no more faith, no more hope, no more courage, no more light, and no more love. Let this universe grovel and scrape, cry and repent of its sins. For those who follow me, everlasting glory. For those who resist, everlasting torment! Let there be only worship of me!”

The crowd rumbled at her words.

“We will take care of the usurpers- these imposters! The Watchers. We take those with the Seals- those tricked by Adonai under our care. They are the future of this universe.”

She grinned under her armor.

“Now, we wait for my fallen to complete her assignment. Those chosen to follow me will see glory never witnessed before!”

The crowd roared, the flurry of emotions hit a climatic peak.

One sauntered from the crowd, hand gripped on his sheathed odachi. Sporting only a single left arm, and shoulder cape to hide his ruined stump. Gold hair tumbled to his shoulders.

Azazel had come.

He had changed. Her love and warrior. Her morning star.

She gracefully ambled to him, halting within feet of him. She towered over his seven foot form, judging him.

“Azazel,” her silver bell voice perked.

“Lucifer, my god, light of the world, I’ve come to join you. I’ve learned much from my mistake! You’ll never be disappointed in me again!”

His haughty smile and dazzling teeth could seduce on sight.

“Azazel,” she replied.

His prideful look cracked at her tone. He was a fool sometimes.

“Azazel, who said you were allowed to leave your cell?”

His eyes grew wide with sudden panic.

“But I’ve grown- I’ve gained-”

She slapped him across the face, the blow stunning him silent.

A punch to the gut, a jab to the jaw, a grapple of the arm and wide swing, slammed him into the ground. She spun, stamping down onto his face.

“You disobeyed me Azazel. You will leave when I say so. Do you understand? You simpering fool!”

There would be no adventure for him. His humiliation brought personal joy in her heart.

“Take him away,” she demanded. Several chosen dragged his limp body out of sight.

She basked in the awe of the men. And then Amy ruined it all by arriving on time. Her face twitched in annoyance.

“Amy.”

“Yes, Lucy- I mean Lucifer?”

“You’ve arrived where you’re needed. Now is the time as we have planned. Use Bithermaul like we practiced. Bring forth the Foci. Do it now, Amy.”

“My Chosen, prepare yourselves for glory. You all know what to do.”

“Praise Lucifer!” they roared.

A gate opened up in the center of the courtyard. Lucifer made a gesture and marched through. She felt the entire universe expanding and surrounding her. She occupied every molecule in the universe simultaneously. A divine experience that could break the minds of the uninitiated.

After the second time it got a little old.

She appeared in a land of perfect darkness, treading upon ground of warm black stone. She looked at Amy, seeing the pathetic angel even more woeful than before. Something else had changed in her. Someone else had planted seed- had raked blades of pain across her heart and mind. She would kill whoever had done that. The pathetic angel was her toy only.

Amy got down on her knees, as did her flunkies.

“L-Lucy! You’re here!” the pathetic angel stammered.

She turned to address her tiny Amy, scoffing back at her.

“Amy, my dearest, you’ve done well. Now is the time for my glory everlasting. My followers. Follow.”

Her Chosen marched through the gate, an invading army.

“Now, let us go forth,” she commanded as she marched ahead.

“I’m coming with you, Lucy!” the pathetic angel cried out before going silent. Lucifer spared her a passing glance, seeing she had vanished. As did her men. She caught it in the air. Like the taste of copper in radioactive fallout.

“Forked dimensions. Cute.”

She sauntered along, hips swaying, armor scissoring with each movement. Her pace was slow, sensual, and methodical. The warm stone pulsed with life beneath her feet.

An imp blocked her path, letting out a death rattle gasp. She simply walked into it, her leg bisecting it down the torso and sending both halves spinning away. She hadn’t realized anything was in the way until she heard the gurgling pile of meat.

The swirling of realities was like a storm, and she was on the outer edges of the hurricane. Groups of all sorts flowed in and out of her plane. She ignored the small trash as any who saw her paused in terror or awe. A green robed man tried to stop her, only to halt and grab at a dozen fatal knife wounds. She clicked Belial back in its sheath, having struck him too fast for any eye to catch. The world around her thundered as it caught up, displacing the air and whipping the torn winds. The man dropped with a muffled cry, going still on the stoney floor.

“You know what they say, get in my way and there will be hell to pay.”

Pulse rifle screech-cracks rang out, signifying her Chosen were near.

Her silver bell laugh rang out as cries of agony and despair reverberated throughout. She crushed down atop the fallen and wounded, uncaring for their plight. She would sway not to the left or right in her mission. She could feel it. The closer she wandered into this plane, the less dimensions there were. She was marching towards the eye of the storm, where only one reality remained. And that was where her Gideon would be. Among other prizes.

The prophecies ahead were beyond everything she expected. Murder, mayhem and sorrow. A lot of blood was going to be spilled before the end. She stopped at the sudden strange movement. She tilted her head, seeing a very large worm shuffling along her path. She halted at the strange thing, sensing a mixture of demonic, Proturan, and other races, as if it were a chimeric abomination. Before she decided to exterminate it on principle, it vanished.

“I suspect there are other species and groups lost in here. Oh well. They’ll be rooted out and pinned to my wall once we’re through. Watchers be damned.”

She arrived at a long hallway with a sharp edged entrance. She spared no glance as she made her way in, spotting the hexagonal shaped stone pillars and quartz sand floor. The amount of dimensions here was reduced to around nine-hundred. She could taste it.

She reached out her hand, feeling it caress her like smoke. She grabbed hold of this reality and began to tear. With enough finesse, she could hop to the next dimension over. She almost had it. The room trembled as the flavor of copper on her tongue burned. A figure stood up in front of her, cocking back its fist. A gnarled, six finger hand sporting heavy talons slammed into her face, rocking her back on her heel. She spotted the sad gargoyle face just as it vanished. She floundered, losing grasp of the dimension.

She stood there, stunned by the sudden carefree attack. She recognized that fist. She had felt it many times.

“That can’t be…”

She laughed, slowly building up at first. It was all too humorous. Of course he was here. One of the few demonic entities God spared after the Armageddon. The one who felt the most empathy for humanity- such a rarity that it was incalculable. To find him here, possibly aiding the others was typical. A selfish egotist assisting others for its own moral benefit and conscience cleansing. She didn’t know what was more disgusting, a blood thirsty demon or a demon that felt empathy.

She felt more energized now than before. There was no anger at the unmatched blow. She would settle this millenia long feud now and forever.

His head would decorate her hall by the end of this invasion.