God of Hell - Chapter 50 - The Man Who Spat Lightning Out Of Twin Cylinders (Patreon)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Defrid roared . That animal, that worm, maggot, putrid piece of flesh and vomit. Light Breather, God of Hell, Demon Ender, Slayer, Vanquisher, the anathema of everything that the Empire of the Circle stood for.

He’d ruined her, he’d ruined it all.

She was being forced from her home, her rightful home, by a being which hadn’t even lived a fraction of her age. By, scum, literal and true scum.

She grabbed a chair and slammed it against a servant until either it or they broke. She didn’t care to notice which.

Before her, the others quickened the pace of their work. They were packing her things, she’d have to go to Luxuria, she couldn’t stay in Tayalnisyan, the Chieftains would be all too eager to claim Dolore for themselves once news had spread that she’d lost control of it, and killing the previous ruler would be in all their best interests.

Her eyes fell on Dario, he was also helping with the packing.

As part of their deal, the Light Breather had forbidden her from taking any thralls with her.

But surely he’d make an exception for Dario, yes?

The door to her room opened and Celestina entered. She was one of her best thralls and surely she had heard the news of how she was going to be freed soon.

Defrid was certain she felt a myriad of ways about it, but years under her service had taught the human how to mask her expressions.

It has not, however, taught her not to disturb me in volatile times…

“What is it?!” Defrid snapped.

The thrall jumped at Defrid’s edge but answered promptly. “You have a guest.”

“Tell them I’m not taking meetings at the moment.” She hissed. Stupid girl. “I have greater concerns at the moment.”

“It’s the Prophet.” She added.

Francesca?

What could that two faced rat possibly want? “Tell her to wait in my office.” Defrid ordered.

The Thrall nodded and went off to do just that.

Defrid met her in said office. The woman was sitting on a couch and immediately stood up at the sight of her better, bowing a fraction. “Lady Defrid, thank you for having me.”

Though she had been amongst the factions which had waged war against Dolore, Francesca still had the basics of polite conversation and respect when addressing a Demon drilled into her. That did not earn her any favour in Defrid’s eyes.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right where you stand.” Defrid told the worm and took no great satisfaction at the sight of her shrinking backwards in terror. It was a testament to how far she had fallen that the woman was not already on her knees, pleading to be spared.

“Because my Lady,” she began quickly, nearly tripping over herself with her words. “I can give you the Light Breather.”

Now that had her attention. But it sounded too good to be true. There was no mistaking the look in the Light Breather’s eyes, he looked almost disappointed when she’d agreed to end the war. 

He wants nothing more in this world than to kill me.

And What better way to guarantee that than to trick her into attacking first?

Then why did he suggest the deal in the first place?

Well, he could have changed his mind, regretted his decisions or a myriad of other things. Humans were known for their fickle nature.

Her eyes settled on Francesca. “Why are you doing this?” She asked.

“Because, I have recognised the error of our ways.” She hurried to say. “To turn our back on your rulership was the greatest folly I have had the displeasure of making, and I am eager to dedicate my impossibly finite life to undoing it.”

Defrid raised an eyebrow. “Lie to me again and I’ll ensure you have to shit through a bag for the rest of your incredibly finite life.”

Francesca swallowed and did not lie to her again. “He scares me, my Lady.” She said with eyes that told her that the human was more terrified of the Light Breather than she was of Defrid.

Odd that, Defrid had a feeling she would tear the man apart if they faced off under fair terms. 

But that was it wasn’t it? Fair terms. The Light was sneaky, crafty and duplicitous. He had used those tricks to down a warden, a being who was no doubt her superior in Might, and now he had an army behind him.

More terrifying than me. She had to agree that Francesca was right there.

“You fear what will become of you when the dust has settled?” Defrid guessed. “That with no Demon to hold accountable, the people will turn to you Merchants who exploited your own kind and trampled over them to seek my favour. And The Light Breather will lead the charge for your heads.”

Francesca nodded softly and didn’t meet her superior’s eyes. The Idiot girl had made a deal with a monster and only when it neared its close was she beginning to grasp the true gravity of her situation. “I heard what he did to the guards in Stradale…. I can only imagine the merchants of Dolore will have a fate much, much worse.”

Defrid felt no pity for the thing, but her hatred was not so strong as to have her turn away a much-neededally. “I accept this alliance.”

In a shocking turn of events, Francesca met her eyes with a burning defiance. Shaky, uncertain and fragile, but burning defiance nonetheless. “I will only bring you the Light Breather under one condition.”

She was making demands now? Defrid should have punted her head out the window, but recent events had forced her to be more patient with their kind. “State it.”

“We want lesser taxes for the Merchant class.” She demanded, then quickly moved to defend her case. “Even under the madness of Hell, the cruelty of our predicament, we have strived to further the production of wealth for your kind… It is… It is only right that we enjoy at least a respectable percentage of said riches.”

Defrid could have been urinated on and it would have been less disrespectful than what this animal had just demanded. She gritted her teeth, clenched her fist and resisted every urge that told her to wring the woman’s neck like some cheap toy. She was desperate, and that was a truth that loomed above all else. “I accept your terms.” 

Klaus had been called in to see the Prophet, an odd request, given that the woman hated him and every other person who worked with Nero, but perhaps time and proximity had been enough to heal all wounds.

They had been living in her manor since they arrived after all.

Regardless of the reason, Klaus enjoyed the luxury that her office gave. First there was her chair, it could do that thing that allowed Klaus to spin in circles and he entertained himself with that for a couple minutes.

Then he got bored and rested his legs on her desk while sipping some lovely tea.

The tea was actually his; however, the Prophet had left it out for him while he waited. Klaus would never have pilfered her private stash. He did have manners after all.

The door swung open and the owner of this lavish office stepped in. Her face wrinkled at the sight of Klaus for some reason, but she said nothing, instead silently settling herself down in the chair opposite hers; the one that would have been the guest chair.

Ah, she needs something from me…

He always liked it when people needed something from him, it made them so much easier to talk to.

“Mister Klaus…” The Prophet began. “How are you enjoying working for the Light Breather…”

“Could be better.” He shrugged.

It was what the woman wanted to hear. “How would you like to work for me instead?” She asked.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, it surely was tempting. He did like working with Nero however, and—

“I’ll offer you double whatever you’re being paid by him.” She added. 

Well, fuck Nero then. “Sounds lovely.” He told her. He could get used to living in a manor, doing the bidding of a powerful merchant and so on and so on… Life was going to be good.

The woman sighed in what seemed to be relief. “Good then, Mister Klaus, I have a job for you and your associates.” She told him.

So soon? Well, Klaus would never turn down an opportunity to make some money.

“In a few minutes from now, the Lady Defrid’s thralls are going to enter this manor and slit the Light Breather’s throat while he sleeps.” The Prophet said, each word a soft whisper. “I understand that you have a history with him, so I will not ask that you aid in his demise, instead, I’m offering you and your associates good money to simply sit back and wait while the deed is done.”

Sit back and wait…

Not even risk fighting anybody, not even get his hands dirty. Jion would be the one to protest the most, oh she wouldn’t stand for it, but she wouldn’t have to know until it was all over. Wouldn’t have to know after either.

Just take a walk, come back, and we’re richer than we could have ever hoped to be.

Klaus got to his feet and pointed his gun at the traitor’s face. “I think I’m good.” He said, voice hard, eyes burning with fire, he reckoned he looked quite intimidating while doing it and was certain the woman had not an inkling of what was going on behind his eyes.

Klaus, you stupid, stupid fucking moron, it’s free money, free money! Do you know how rare that is? Do you know how awesome it would be to have your own personal chest of riches?!

Come on lad, put down the gun, put down the fucking gun and we can still salvage this fuck-up!

The Prophet looked calmer than he felt.

“You’re not going to shoot me.” She told him.

“Oh, and why is that?” He asked. She was planning something, giving her time was stupid. 

“Because–-”

Klaus pulled the trigger.

Or rather, he tried to.

His hands were shaking, refusing to listen to his orders. The weapon slipped from useless fingers, hit the edge of the desk and clattered onto the floor.

What the fuck? What the fuck is happening to me?

The world was beginning to melt at the corner of his eyes, shapes and colours were melting into each other  and it was becoming a feat just to stand. 

His eyes fell to the tea…

Poison… I’ve been poisoned.

He gripped the desk for balance, something warm ran down his nose and dripped onto the wood. Red.

He was bleeding.

“I would have given you the antidote had you made the right decision.” The Prophet’s voice rang in his head, a muffled displaced thing, as if coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. “But alas, we stand where we stand.”

Klaus’s legs gave in and the floor rose to meet his face violently.

The pain was winning now. His throat was burning, it felt like some feral beast was trying to force its way out of his throat. Klaus hacked, and hacked, and hacked, but only blood and chunks of bodymatter emerged.

“Take solace in the fact that you die here, and that you do not have to witness what is about to happen to your friends.” The woman told him and the sound of a closed door told him she was gone.

Klaus couldn’t die here, he wasn’t going to die here. 

On a battlefield, downed by the combined efforts of dozens of men while snarling his last words into their faces. 

That was how he was going to die, that was how he was meant to die.

Not in some office, not by poison, not alone, but surrounded by enemies… And by friends. Jion, Erlo, Mifa.

Those were who he was going to die with, and no one, certainly not some fucking Prophet was going to change that.

He had to warn them…

He could barely move, couldn’t speak save from furiously hacking, and could already feel his vision fading.

Klaus reached for the gun by his side with an arm that required every scrap of his will to move. Shakily his hand wrapped around his weapon.

He squeezed the trigger and found himself lacking the strength to fire it. Squeezed again and still saw that he couldn’t. He willed his other hand to aid and finally, Klaus was able to fire his gun into the far wall.

It should have sounded like thunder, but it sounded little different from the sound of books falling from a shelf to his addled mind.

It must have been loud enough to alert his friends that something was wrong, must have been a good enough warning to keep them alive until Klaus could gather enough strength to join them in the fight.

Oh, he could just imagine the look on their faces as he saved them one more time, right in the nick of time, and with a snark to whip out too. They’d be surprised. Shit, he was surprised. And he wanted to see it. To see his friends realise that, in the end, he’d made the right choice. To see Jion’s approval at last.

But Klaus never joined the fight, instead he died, not where he should have, but where he was.