Sitting on the throne felt like when Prince Seere had ripped Gerry’s soul from his old body and made him a Dux, only a thousand times worse. His mind, body, and spirit were filet with unfathomable power over and over again until he felt like nothing more than a thoroughly roasted cinder. He wanted to cry out for help, get off the throne, or do anything other than sitting there and being torn to pieces repeatedly, but he couldn’t. To the world, he looked like he was perched there calmly, but it was all a lie. He was being butchered by the throne.

He was there for an hour, a month, a year…and every second was agony. The throne stripped him down to his atoms, and then rebuilt him only to break him down again. Gerry had been to Hell, he’d thrived in Hell, but this was so much worse. He didn’t even know what this was. All he’d done was take a seat.

Time lost all meaning. It just became the cycle of being torn down and built back up again. Each time he thought the tearing down wasn’t as extreme; it came back twice as worse the next time. Almost like the throne was toying with him.

He screamed after an eternity of misery.

The power continued to uncaringly wash over him, to kill him, to birth him, and…to change him.

The changes were subtle at first, so subtle he didn’t even notice he’d changed until the pain started to ebb. It was still excruciating, and it was the type of pain you couldn’t become numb to, but he definitely felt a change. Was the pain lessening, or was he getting stronger?

Another wave of suffering washed over him. It felt like his spleen was ripped from his body, rung out like a damp towel, and then roughly reinserted in place via his esophagus. He struggled to breathe, although his body was getting plenty of oxygen, as it sat motionless on the throne.

Another decade of misery passed. The pain was getting deeper. It moved beyond the physical. The latest wave felt like someone had taken a razor to the throat of his dreams. Everything had come flooding back to him the moment his butt hit the golden throne: his dull human life, the excitement of being an Infernal Knight, and his Death as a Dux; but it was a curse not a blessing. The pain magnified his failings, cast aside his successes, and stomped on his ambitions. He felt powerless and helpless as everything he feared replayed in front of his eyes like a montage of loss. He sat their frozen and had to endure it all. He couldn’t fight back and he couldn’t resist. All he could do was bear it as the pain dug deeper into his being.

It felt like a century passed before the wave of power finally hit his core…and impossibly intensified. It felt like a small sun was born in his gut and roasted everything about him into nothing. Only after eons of that did the pain finally subside and clarity snapped into place.

He shuddered physically and metaphysically as a healing breeze passed through him. The memory of the unending misery collapsed inward on itself until it became only the handful of minutes it truly had been. He tried to release a breath of relief, but he was still frozen in place.

Then somebody turned the lights off.

Sudden blackness overwhelmed all of his senses. There was nothing he could feel, touch, taste, hear, or see around him. It was an empty void…until…a sudden surge of energy at the center, and there was light all around him, but it wasn’t the rundown home where the throne had crashed through the roof. It looked like the cosmos.

“If you are sitting here then I am dead.” A voice Gerry thought he’d never hear again surrounded him.

A ghostly visage manifested to his right side, and Prince Seere stared down at him. His face was not proud and strong, but full of regret and pain. His scorched eye socket was still bare, and his wings were drooping in defeat.

“The circumstances of my death do not matter. All that matters is that I am gone. All that matters is the throne.”

Gerry had trouble coming to terms with that. He vividly remembered Lucifer standing over his fallen Lord. The Morning Star was supposed to be his ally, his brother, and instead he drove his sword through Seere and stole his power.

Gerry couldn’t come to grips with that. Not now. Not so soon after remembering what Lucifer and Ava had wrought on Gerry personally and Seere’s kingdom.

“Revenge is a slippery slope. Do not go down it until you are ready,” the spectre of Seere continued. “You will not be ready until you understand. This is the truth, not the snippets I’ve given you in the past, but the whole truth and nothing but it. Without it, you will never succeed.”

The spectre turned and pointed toward the lights. They had once been everywhere, all around him, but now they were coalescing into seven clusters.

The closer Gerry looked the more he was drawn into the little globes of brilliance. He made sure not to get to close because he knew he would drown in them. He could sense their power. He felt omniscience and omnipotence coming from the supreme specks. Those lights were the building blocks of everything. Even Gerry himself had been created by what was coalescing before his eyes.

“This is the birth of the universe as we know it. It starts with the great release of æther from the Prime Source. Don’t ask me what it is, I doubt anyone but the Primordials know.” The spectre waved its hand and the scene sped up. “The Primordials sat there for eons collecting power.” In front of them, the lights grew stronger and stronger, but even among the lights some were brighter than others. Eventually, the lights started to move and interact. They floated around, bumped into one another, until finally one collided with another in a very unfriendly way.

“The birth of violence and war.” The spectre emphasizes the dancing of light between the two blobs until one dimmed and the other brightened.

Gerry didn’t feel any pain as the two supreme beings fought to the end. It was simply an exchange of power for them. One was stronger, the other weaker, and the most powerful prevailed while the loser faded into oblivion. It was awe-inspiring and frightening to watch.

Soon after the first Primordial ceased to be, there was another attack and assimilation. What started as seven became five: two Greater and three Lesser. The Lesser Primordials banded together and provided a solid front against the two Greaters. As time progressed, there was some small skirmishing between the remaining Primordials, but nothing like the sublimation of the original two. Each time the Lessers came to each other’s aid, and while the two Greaters could have easily emerged victorious, they never worked together.

Finally, all five of the remaining Primordials dispersed. Gerry felt an overwhelming since of exhilaration from all five of these all-powerful beings. They’d grown tired and weary of their routine and were embarking on something new.

The two Greaters split. One flew off into the darkness while the other set up shop. Gerry didn’t know how he knew, but he could tell the Primordial was embarking on creation. The three Lesser lingered longer and seemed to take their time deciding what to do. Eventually, they split as well. Two approached the one Greater and began their own creation from a respectable distance, while the third Lesser maintained a safer distance before settling into its own creation.

Creation was visibly taking a toll on the Primordials. The light of ætherial power that had coalesced around them in the eons after the Big Bang was glowing dimmer as it was used to fuel their creations. The Primordials had a lot less juice after toiling over their realms, but even then, Gerry couldn’t comprehend their strength. To a feeble mortal they still filled every definition of a god: all-seeing, all-knowing, and still all-powerful.

“The birth of the various realms.” Seere’s spectre pointed at the construction taking place. “And eventually, betrayal.”

Gerry suddenly had the sensation of something hooking him behind the naval and yanking him forward. He rocketed into the chaos of two Primordials. The space around him parted like cloud cover until he hovered above a great battlefield.

Angels fought against all manner of creatures of myth. Gerry saw a great dragon rear up and rend an angel in two with powerful, glittering claws. It took a battle ax to the neck for its trouble. Silver blood splashed over the scene as the beast reared in pain, but it swung its head around and chomped down on the angel that had mortally wounded it. As it whipped and thrashed the angel until it chewed through the armor, half a dozen more angels jumped onto its back and hacked away at it. Blood flew like silver rain all around it, until it finally fell.

The angels had a moment of triumph before a volley of black arrows crashed into them. Many bounced off their armor, but more than enough found weak points. They fell from the back of the dragon they’d just slain and were jumped upon by fierce-faced women. The women removed blades from between their breasts and slit the angels’ throats.

It went on and on like that. Creatures killed and were killed in the greatest display of combat Gerry had or would ever see.

“The Conquering of Eden,” Seere explained. “These are the true colors of my Father. The true intentions of God.” The scene zoomed out as the spectre pulled them both back, but in the distance Gerry could make out two giants doing battle. They dwarfed everyone else, and their blows shook reality itself.

They resumed their original position looking down on the recently constructed realms and the invasion of Earth, and Gerry saw what he’d seen after the Big Bang that created the Primordials. The Primordial that created Earth began to fade and eventually extinguished while God grew brighter.

“The æther in this throne holds history: mine, the ones who came before me, and now yours. If you have survived to see this message then you have been deemed worthy. The æther reserves of my throne are now yours, but if I have died then they are severely depleted, so be cautious, chosen one. Study the past. Do not make the same mistakes that I did. See the truth. See what happens to those my Father called family. Search for a new solution to this eons-old problem, you will know it when you see it, and take your rightful place in the pantheon of power. I have limited answers for you, but ask any questions you might have.”

The ghostly visage of the fallen Infernal Lord stood their patiently, much more patiently than he had in real life, and waited for Gerry to make the first move.

“Um…” Gerry coughed. His throat was raw.

“You good, Boss?” Vicky asked as she materialized at his side with a glass of water.

There was enough sediment at the bottom of the glass the choke a person, but Gerry downed it all eagerly. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine.” Gerry took his first breath of fresh air, in what felt like a millennia, and cracked his neck from side to side.

He could feel the change. He could feel the power of the throne pulsing through him. What he’d been before: a man, Infernal Knight, and Dux all felt feeble compared to what he could do now. He felt like a god. He felt like he could do anything.

The words of Seere’s ghost passed through Gerry’s mind and helped reign him in.

“So…” Vicky just stood there holding the empty glass. “What now?”

Gerry expanded his mind and surveyed the area. He searched a few blocks in either direction looking for threats, and found some. Angels, cloaked in their æther, were searching for the throne. They weren’t alone. Making a bee line for the front door was an old, familiar face.

“Now, we see an old friend.” Gerry sat back down on the throne and casually crossed his legs. Vicky just stood beside him, until her ears picked up the group approaching. Her head snapped around to look in the direction of the door just before someone powerful burst through it.

Several men and women in armor followed in his wake and quickly clogged the small hallway. They were forced to advance one at a time into the room where Gerry sat nonchalantly on the throne. The man at the front opened his mouth, but shut it abruptly when he saw Gerry.

“Gerald?”

“Hello, Gaius. Welcome to Eden.”

“You’re alive. Reports had you dead on the field of battle with Lord Seere.” The men behind Gaius looked confused and unsure what to do, so they fell back on their training. They spread out to secure the home. One grabbed the unconscious girl half-embedded in the drywall and removed her from sight.

“I’m better than ever.” Gerry smiled back.

“That’s good to hear.” Gaius looked around Gerry to the throne he was sitting on. “Now, I need you to get off that throne. We need to get it out of here. The enemy is searching for it.”

“They’ve already found it, but it doesn’t matter.” Gerry stretched out his arm and summoned the æther. He etched a rune into the wall of the house on either side of the throne and pumped a little power into it. A searing blue light emitted from the runes in a short burst before dulling to a soft glow.

Gerry looked around Gaius to where a pair of angels stood in the doorway of the home. Both had their eyes on the throne Gerry was sitting on. They traced its intricate details until their eyes met Gerry’s. They seemed surprised that he was able to see them, but it didn’t last long.

“Fuck!” Gaius had just noticed the two angels and was dropping into a defensive stance.

A quick look at Gerry’s old captain told him Gaius was not the man he used to be. He was worn down, weak, and his supply of æther was dangerously low. There was no way he was going to defeat two Guardians. Gerry could also see the Guardians’ power. It was significant, but nothing special. Their Divine æther sang to him, and it was a song he couldn’t ignore.

“By order of the Archangel Michael and Power Ava surrender the stolen throne or…”

Gerry didn’t have the patience to keep listening. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. An overwhelming surge of æther erupted from the throne and channeled through him at his targets. One moment the two Guardians stood there ready to fight, and the next they exploded. Gore and Divine ichor splattered the siding of the house and funneled in through the doorway to paint the hallway gold. The force of their explosion was so intense, some even reached all the way to Gaius. The man stumbled back in shock and turned to face Gerry.

Gerry ignored him. He focused on the æther. The throne activated through his will and pulled at the Divine æther like a magnet as it tried to escape back to Heaven. If the angels had died farther away they might have had a chance, but their close proximity spelled their eternal doom. Their essences were pulled in and consumed by the throne.

“Sorry for the interruption. I…” Gerry started to stand but a rush of exhaustion cut him off and plopped him back down on the throne. He gripped the armrest tight as a bout of nausea gripped his gut. It lasted several seconds before passing, but it still left him feeling slightly ill.

It was easy to determine the cause.

Gaius was not the type of man to give over command easily. Only an overwhelming show of force would earn his temporary loyalty, and killing two Guardians with a snap of his fingers was the best solution to Gerry’s immediate problems.

“Grab the armor and the weapons.” Gerry ordered. “Their commanders will know they’re dead soon and come looking for their killers. We need to be long gone before that happens.”

There was still a slight hesitation from Gaius’ troops before moving to execute Gerry’s commands. Gerry could forgive the momentary lapse for now, but when shit really started to hit the fan they needed to obey without question.

“Give me that sword,” Gerry commanded one of the soldiers who had pulled the Guardians blade out of the angel’s exploded flesh. “Now.” He added when the soldier looked at Gaius again.

Slowly, the soldier approached Gerry, knelt on one knee, and presented the sword of Divine Steel to him. A trickle of power leaked from Gerry to the sword and it conformed to his liking. Even with all the power the throne offered. Gerry still felt safer with steel in his hand.

“Let’s move.” Gerry stood and ushered the soldiers out.

“What about the throne?’ Gaius’ face betrayed his unease at Gerry giving all the orders, but he didn’t really have a choice at the moment. He’d seen Gerry’s power and knew his own was hopelessly outmatched.

“It’s coming with me.” Gerry wasn’t going to leave his power source behind, and he instinctually knew how to move it.

Gerry reached out with his mind, seized the æther, and squeezed. The throne responded with a shudder before quickly shrinking down. Gerry knew there was likely a tradeoff for this type of action. Something smaller just couldn’t hold as much æther, but he had no intention of keeping it this way for long. He just needed to get it and his new followers somewhere safe.

“Vicky, do you have shelter ready?” He confirmed with the Soulless.

“Hiding in the refugee camps will make us harder to find than a needle in a haystack of needles.” She grinned back, but her eyes kept darting nervously between all the Infernal soldiers around her.

“Good, lead the way.”

Vicky did. She led the coalition of Infernal General, Infernal Soldiers, and whatever the hell Gerry was now. He didn’t want to say he was an Infernal Lord with all the power and responsibility that implied, but the more he thought about it the more than might be the case.

His title would have to wait. Right now he needed to get to safety. Even a new Infernal Lord wasn’t safe with the powers being wielded in Charlotte. He could feel danger in the air, and he had no intention of testing his true newfound strength just yet.