Chapter 876 - 875: An Older War

In an unknown location, a single lamp burned upon a low stone table.

Its light reached a stack of reports, an untouched cup, and the hands of the demoness kneeling beside them. Beyond that small circle, darkness concealed the walls and the figure seated in a high-backed chair.

He had listened without interrupting. The demoness had needed to repeat only one part of her report.

The arrival of the God of War.

Had Ivara or Sava been present, neither would have needed an explanation of who occupied that chair. To the Second Claw and the Voice, he was simply Him.

But he was not a demon.

He was a Daemon.

His presence barely disturbed the room. Even so, the demoness kept her breathing measured. Whenever her attention drifted toward the darkness above the chair, she felt as though something had noticed her long before she thought to look.

"It seems the child called Blackmoon has done something none of us planned for."

The voice was calm, and with a trace of amusement.

"That is one way to describe it," the demoness replied carefully. "Black Horn halted the crossing. Their commanders are watching the rift, the formations, and everyone approaching them. Moving unnoticed has become considerably harder."

She placed a narrow message tablet beside the reports.

"Crownless Dawn was difficult enough without a god standing in the middle of it."

"What of the child?"

"The latest report says he returned to the Demon Realm. Badly injured. The god remains on Earth for now."

He rested one hand against the chair’s arm.

"And the rift?"

"Enlarged, but still connected to earth and fully functional."

That answer interested him more than the agitation in her voice. An Archfiend had survived a god’s attention, injured the borrowed body, and crossed back into the Demon Realm.

The reports explained the sequence, but they did not explain the child.

"Why would a god descend over one mortal?" the demoness muttered. "Surely he has others to bless."

"He did not want to lose this one."

She released a quiet, humourless laugh.

"They tell their followers to welcome death in battle. Apparently, some deaths are less welcome than others."

"Apparently."

The demoness glanced at the tablet again.

"I would congratulate Blackmoon if he had not made our work so much worse. Killing a chosen was already excessive. What sort of Archfiend continues provoking the god who comes afterward?"

"One who has discovered that obedience and weakness will not save him."

She considered that, then shook her head.

"Whatever his reasons, our arrangements are suffering for them."

For a while, the figure in the chair said nothing. The demoness waited, listening to the faint hiss of oil within the lamp.

Then he chuckled.

"It is not necessarily a bad thing."

She raised her head slightly.

"Crownless Dawn has been disrupted," he continued. "That does not mean we must leave this affair with less than we expected."

"What could compensate for this?"

"The corpse."

Her fingers stopped against her knee.

"The corpse of a chosen personally occupied by his patron. And not some insignificant god, either... The God of War."

The room seemed quieter after the name.

"That vessel has carried the presence and power of one of the strongest gods," he said. "Obtaining it could more than compensate for the complications Blackmoon has caused."

The demoness stared toward the outline of the chair.

"And how are we supposed to kill the God of War to obtain it?"

"I will kill him."

Her head lifted fully.

"No."

The refusal escaped before she could soften it. She lowered her eyes, but did not withdraw the objection.

"My lord, exposing yourself for a corpse would be reckless. Even a successful attack would tell them that someone like you is still here."

He did not rebuke her.

"They already search for things they believe should no longer exist," she continued. "Why give them a direction?"

"Because the opportunity will not remain."

"And neither will your concealment."

The amusement left his voice, but it did not become angry.

"He has descended into a mortal vessel. He is not standing in his true body."

"I know that. I am worried about what happens after you destroy the vessel."

"So am I. Which is why merely destroying it would not be enough."

He leaned forward. The lamp revealed no more than the movement of his outline.

"If he withdraws first, we gain a corpse and an enemy. I intend to kill the presence he has placed inside it before he can reclaim it."

The demoness fell silent.

"Losing that will reach his true body and soul. The wound will not be something he can dismiss merely because the battle happened elsewhere."

"It still leaves other gods."

"Yes."

He let her hear that he understood.

"I am not confusing an opportunity with safety. But I will choose when and where to take it. I have no intention of announcing myself beside their rift and waiting for an audience."

She pressed her lips together.

For several breaths, he watched her struggle to find another argument. Her concern was sensible. He would have trusted her less if she had greeted the decision with praise.

"There is also Blackmoon," he said.

Her expression tightened.

"You want to keep him alive?"

"I do."

"He has already brought a god into our affairs."

"And survived it."

"His strange weapons-"

"Did not wield themselves."

The reply stopped her.

"He took Ironcrest as an Archfiend. Killed a chosen with two Blessings. Then survived the God of War long enough to wound his vessel and escape."

His fingers tapped the chair once.

"I have heard enough about his body and the things it endures to suspect that his blood is not entirely demonic."

The demoness’s gaze sharpened.

"You believe he has Daemon blood?"

"I do. How much, what type, and from where, remain questions."

The child had become more interesting with every report. He had no desire to let a wounded god erase the answers before he could ask for them.

"I want him brought to the Abyss."

"Wanting him alive does not make him trustworthy."

"I said I wanted to meet him. Not entrust him with my life."

The demoness looked down at the reports. Her shoulders lowered slightly, though the worry remained.

She recognised a decision when she heard one.

"Just be careful... Lord Enigma."

"I will."

The name passed into the darkness without revealing anything more of the figure who bore it.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then the chair creaked.

"In the past, Daemons fought gods," Lord Enigma said. "Not the soldiers they armed. Nor their creations they sent ahead of them. Gods."

He stood, and his emerald serpentine eyes flashed in the darkness with a coldness that seemed to freeze and swallow the world.

The demoness felt his presence rise with him and lowered her head. The lamp still burned, but its light no longer seemed sufficient for the room.

"Now demons bleed against humans while the gods watch from a distance. We have fallen so low that the thought of facing one sounds like madness."

His voice held no amusement now.

"Caution kept us alive. It was never meant to teach us that we belonged beneath them."

He stepped past the chair.

"It would do those self-worshipping bastards some good to remember why they once feared Daemons."