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Chapter Text

Serpents Bane

Chapter 1 The Sons Descent

I would like to thank my friends in the First Man Collective for giving me the inspiration to write this fic and thanks for my buddy, Mike for giving me this chapter's title. Also, a massive thank you to my buddy KaiMay18 for this chapters Charlie dialogue

 

Down in Pride, strength was everything. You were either at the top or at the bottom — either a master or a slave. For many, this was the law of Hell itself: strength and dominance were the driving force for so many hell-born or otherwise damned souls in the place. All except for a few beings, where being challenged was an absolute death sentence if you weren't as strong as them or stronger — such as: the Sins, the Overlords, Lucifer and Lilith, Charlie Morningstar, the Goetians, and Cain, the Father of Murder — a being who, for the longest time, was the most feared creature in Pride. Anyone would be brain-dead to go near his home, much less his territory, without a plan.

This, however, was exactly what the Princess of Hell herself was determined to do. Walking through the blood- and needle-filled streets of Hell toward a part of Pride no one dared step into, she reached the border between Cain’s territory and the rest of Pride. Charlie looked hesitant — it had been over forty-five years since she had last seen Cain, much less paid him a visit — but then, with a deep breath and a look of determination in her eyes, she took her first steps back into Cain’s turf.

The moment she stepped inside, everything fell silent. The constant yelling, screams, and gunfire that were normally heard in Pride stopped immediately as she passed the border. It was a trick she had seen only a handful of times, but every time it filled her with uneasiness and dread. Not even the sounds of her feet filled the air as she began to walk along that dead patch of ground. Ten minutes later, she arrived at the massive black-coated manor of the Father of Murder himself.

This was when she could finally hear some actual sound — music, coming from inside. As Charlie approached the door, the sound grew louder. Once she placed her hand on the dark oak, it immediately swung wide, making her pull her hand back. The sound went silent again, and all she could see was darkness within the home.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped five paces into the house. She heard something akin to a water bucket being emptied right behind her; this made her tense up, not daring to look back. The last time she thought of it, her mother and father had made it very clear it was not advisable to see him in this “state.” After twenty-five seemingly never-ending seconds, she heard a little cough behind her, and a familiar voice said warmly:

“Little Charlie, it has been far too long since you have been to my home. What might bring you here?”

This would normally send many running off to hide, but instead a large smile appeared on her face. She turned and hugged the man who stood before her, letting out a loud yell: “Uncle C!”

Cain rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face, and raised an eyebrow at how she had maintained her cheerfulness in Hell of all places. That, he decided, was a question for another day.

“I’m impressed you never gave up calling me that nickname, Charlie. But I’m glad you’re doing all right.” As Cain stepped out from the darkness, revealing his human-like form in front of the Princess of Hell, she could not stop thinking about her mother — mainly because of the large goat horns that stuck out of his head, similar to her mother’s. This train of thought was interrupted by Cain’s voice again. “May I ask you why you came here, Charlie? I unfortunately doubt you came just for a visit.”

Charlie faltered as she began to elaborate her reasoning. “W-well… no. I’m sorry — I’m not here just for leisure.” As the words left her mouth, a small ping of guilt built in her stomach; she had come to ask for assistance after not visiting him in so many years. Before she could say more, a question escaped her lips. “Have you heard about my new project, maybe? It was — it was on the news.”

Cain tilted his head for a moment, blinked, and a soft chuckle escaped him as he nodded slowly. “Yes, I did see the little incident on the news. I’m sorry to hear about the fight that broke out. Every single time I turn on the news it’s that annoying whiner always yelling and abusing her co-host… I know we’re in Hell, but for crying out loud! There was something mentioned to me by my father — you met him in the embassy last week, right?”

As their conversation continued, he led her toward his living room, where a collection of many things sat: weapons, skulls, and pieces of random tech in the corner. On the table in the center was a large radio that looked like it came from the 1920s. Charlie didn’t want to presume, but she was led to a set of armchairs facing each other. Once they took their seats, they resumed business.

“He mentioned that you were creating a hotel of sorts to redeem sinners. I hope you’re not trying to say I can be saved — I have mentioned it time and again: I cannot be helped.”

This caused Charlie to sit up, looking Cain in the eye. Determination burned through her. “Everyone can be saved, Uncle C — including you. I know if you give yourself the chance you can do so much good!” Unlike many who would laugh at her idea, Cain simply stared at her for a few seconds, said nothing, then let out a sigh. He rested his elbow on the chair’s arm and put his chin on his palm.

“Charlie, I respect your idea. But this is the sort of thing we can discuss later, because there’s a massive reason why I cannot be redeemed and why I would not want to be.”

‘Always so stubborn, aren’t you, Uncle C,’ Charlie thought to herself before taking a breath and beginning to explain, her hands moving nervously. “I would like your help. Everyone thinks my hotel idea is a joke, but I believe if someone important like you supported it, maybe people would take it more seriously.”

Cain responded in a rather surprising way. He leaned forward to look at her. “Charlie, I do think what you’re doing is noble, and if anyone can do something about this, it’s you. I will lend a hand, but… you may need to at least put a limit on who you’re trying to redeem in your hotel. Start small — redeem a thief or two and move up from there.” In Cain’s eyes there was a flash of curiosity as he added slowly, “I won’t lie, Charlie: I wish to know exactly why you’re trying to redeem people in Hell with your hotel. Before, my father ‘sang your ass back to your hell pit,’ as he so… carefully put it, and never really got the idea behind it.”

As Charlie heard this, she felt herself deflate into her chair. She had figured Adam, with all his rudeness, had not understood the reason behind the idea. She began to explain. “I just think if I can show them, it’s possible they won’t come down to kill more of my people.” Her expression grew gloomier as she sank back into the chair.

Upon hearing this, Cain sat up and an aggravated look creased his face, making Charlie flinch. Then she began to see this was something sensitive for Cain: the skin on his face began to crack like porcelain, and black, oily liquid slowly poured from the fissures. It only appeared for a few seconds before Cain closed his fist and the black liquid reversed into the cracks, fixing him.

“I apologize for that, Charlie, but your idea is very noble indeed. The exterminations exist for a damned good reason. If you let me explain, it will change everything — how you see the exterminations, your parents, and basically everything you ever saw in that book Lilith and Lucifer created for you. So I must ask: do you wish to know the truth? Because you know I do not lie.”

As his eyes stared into hers, Charlie felt hesitation flood her mind. She wanted to know the truth, but what would happen when she did? How much would things change when she learned what he had to say? She took a deep breath and nodded; she wanted to know everything. Cain’s small, solemn smile deepened as he took a deep breath and said, “Might as well start at the beginning then — or, I guess, start in the year of my demise. If you want to know the year: I died, Charlie. It was in 8015 BC. It had been around two hundred years since I murdered my brother for the most idiotic reasons. I was given my mark by Michael and sent to wander the Earth, never to die unless that person wished for the punishment to be sevenfold what was dealt to me. Each night after that was pure and utter agony, because no matter what happened, no matter what I did, I would always hear and see my brother Abel — always reminding me what I did to him and how he could never move on.”

Cain took a shaky breath, remembering every single time he had seen Abel’s ghost — repeatedly, night after night — after he caved his skull in with a rock. He continued. “So, as the nights went on, I continued to wander. I had nothing to cover my hand, so every time I went to a settlement to try and take a breath, the locals realized who I was and chased me out, calling me a plague on their crops — which, they were right about, since I could never grow my own produce again on Earth and every piece of dirt I walked upon would wither and die until I left. Then one day I was slowly walking through the woods, just begging for death at that point, because the news finally reached me that my father and mother had died and many others had as well. I wished to die so Abel could be set free. I had lost all faith that I could be with my family again, and I broke down near a few trees, just wanting someone to put me out of my misery.

“But then I felt something pierce my neck, and I fell to the ground. At first I could only hear voices, but when they came to look over me I couldn’t believe it. It was my great-grandson Lamech — he was blind, so his own son was the one who pointed me out. They saw my mark and began to run away from me. I did not care, as I felt myself getting colder; I knew I deserved to die alone. The last thing I saw before closing my eyes one final time was my brother floating upward, and I died happy.

“Then came the heat as I opened my eyes — I was crashing down from above into Pride. I didn’t know it at the time, but I would learn where I ended up. When I finally hit the ground a massive crater followed me; it seemed the fact I created the sin of murder made my fall so much more dangerous. Then I saw a few eyes just staring at me, and when I looked at them, I could only say a single word…”

“‘Mom?’”

End of Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Loud. Destructive. Intense.

Those were the only words that could even begin to describe Cain’s arrival into Hell. His entry was no graceful descent, no quiet stumble into damnation. Instead, he tore through the atmosphere like a fallen comet, his body wrapped in fire and shadow until it met the rocky earth with a devastating crash. The land of Pride trembled, the shockwave rippling outward in waves of raw force. Rocks shattered, dust billowed skyward, and the earth itself caved beneath him.

When the rumbling finally ceased, only a massive crater remained — and the sinner who had made it.

The tremors stretched far beyond the site of impact, rolling through the young city of Pride. Citizens looked around in panic as walls quivered, cobblestones cracked, and lanterns swung violently from their posts. Some fell to their knees, believing the end had come once more. Others muttered nervously of a new calamity being born in their midst.

But the quakes did not stop there. They reached even further, to a throne room carved into black stone and fire, where the King of Hell himself was just about to reward his patience with something simple.

Lucifer Morningstar sat in his vast, empty chamber — a cathedral of obsidian, decorated in cruel elegance. The high, skeletal windows glowed faintly with infernal light, casting streaks of crimson across the floor. The day had been long. Too long. Endless lines of sinners had begged, complained, and wailed about their punishments. He had tolerated most, tearing apart only the particularly insufferable few.

Now, he felt he had earned his peace.

With a snap of his fingers, a delicate porcelain cup appeared in his dark, charred hands. A teabag dangled from its rim, releasing a faint, earthy scent. Beside him, a pot shimmered into being, pouring steaming water into the cup before vanishing once more. The Devil sighed, shoulders easing, as he raised the cup to his lips.

But peace never lasted long in Hell.

The ground shook.

At first, it was subtle — a faint tremor that rippled through the floor beneath his throne. Then it grew violent, rattling the great iron doors, sending dust cascading down from the ceiling. Lucifer’s cup jerked in his hand, tea spilling over the edge, scalding his skin. He hissed, more annoyed than pained, setting the drink aside.

“Wonderful,” he muttered, rising from his throne. “I can’t even have tea without someone ruining it.”

He stormed toward the stairwell behind his seat, voice booming as he bellowed into the halls:

“LILITH! WE GOT A BIG SINNER — DID YOU FEEL THE QUAKES?!”

Upstairs, the Queen of Hell was anything but amused. Lilith sat buried beneath mountains of parchment, quills scratching furiously as she worked to bring the slightest shred of order to the chaos of their seven-layered domain. Every document was painstakingly organized — decrees, rulings, and signatures drafted for herself, Lucifer, and the Six other Sins.

The quake destroyed it all in seconds.

Stacks toppled, scrolls unraveled, pages scattered like feathers in a storm. Hours of work undone in a blink. Lilith froze, staring at the disarray, and then her jaw tightened. A thin vein throbbed at her temple.

Lucifer’s call reached her ears, but her answer was no words — only a screech of pure, unrestrained fury. The sound echoed through the palace like the cry of a banshee. Lucifer winced, already imagining the wrath about to descend upon him.

Moments later, the ground shook again — not from Cain, but from Lilith storming down the steps. Each stomp echoed like thunder. She seized her husband by the collar the instant she laid eyes on him, eyes glowing with murderous intent.

“Bring me to whoever made that quake,” she growled, voice low and venomous, “so I may rip them apart for ruining my work!”

Lucifer blinked, then chuckled nervously. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Before she could throttle him, he scooped her up into his arms. Six great wings unfurled, stretching wide with a rush of feathers and shadow. With one mighty beat, the pair launched into the air, bursting from the throne room and into Hell’s blood-red skies.

The city below shrank as they soared. Lucifer scanned the horizon, thoughts spinning. Quakes this violent… that usually means something big. A sinner of immense weight. But who?

A sharp poke to his cheek broke his musing. Lilith pointed wordlessly toward the outskirts of Pride, where a massive crater gaped like an open wound in the earth. Even from a distance, smoke still curled from its edges.

The pair exchanged a look — shock, curiosity, and, in Lucifer’s case, a hint of excitement. Never had a sinner arrived with such destruction.

They descended, landing at the rim of the crater. The hole stretched deep, its bottom veiled in shadow.

“Hello!” Lucifer called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Is anyone down there?”

At first, silence. Then faint grunts. Lilith’s sharp ears caught them before Lucifer did. She gestured, and with a wave of his hand, the Devil conjured a floating orb of light. The glowing sphere drifted downward, illuminating the darkness below.

What it revealed made even Lucifer pause.

A hulking figure stirred at the bottom. Goatlike, massive, cloaked in dark fur that rippled like smoke. As the light struck his face, two strange eyes gleamed back, unblinking. The sinner stood nearly seven and a half feet tall, his body draped in regal purple robes, fastened at the chest with a black skull pendant.

Lucifer’s brow arched. He lifted his cane into existence, leaning upon it with calculated calm as he drew the creature up from the pit with a flick of magic. The ground cracked as the sinner landed before them.

“Greetings, sinner,” Lucifer said smoothly, his smile thin. “I imagine you’re quite confused as to where you are, correct?”

The goat-man ignored him at first, flexing his clawed hands, studying his robes as if they’d appeared without his consent. Only when Lucifer waved his cane in front of him did his attention finally snap upward.

“Well, since you’ve had time to admire yourself,” Lucifer continued, “let me be direct. Welcome to Hell. I am Lucifer Morningstar. And who, exactly, might you be?”

The figure tilted his horned head, voice rough and low.

“I am Cain… firstborn of Adam and Eve. The Father of Murder.”

Both Lucifer and Lilith froze. Their eyes widened, disbelief flashing between them. Of all the sinners to crash into their domain… it had to be him.

Lilith was first to find her voice. “We know who you are, Cain. Tales of your crime echo even here — the first blood spilled, the downfall of your parents, and much more.”

Cain’s gaze turned to her. Recognition lit in his eyes, followed swiftly by disdain.

“Wait. You’re Lilith.” His lips curled into a mocking grin. “Father spoke of you — the first woman. Said you ran from Eden, fell in love with demons, and ruined everything. Correct?”

Lucifer stiffened, fury sparking instantly. He jabbed Cain in the chest with his cane.

“Watch your tongue. It wasn’t our fault. If anyone bears blame, it’s your mother. She bit the apple. Her cursed womb gave birth to evil like you!”

Cain’s pupils shrank. His chest heaved as fury flooded him. In a flash, his massive hand clamped around Lucifer’s collar, yanking him close. Spittle flew as he growled each word:

“What. Did. You. Just. Imply. About. My. Mother?”

Lucifer smirked, unfazed, and leaned in closer.

“It’s her fault you’re damned. Perhaps if Adam had sought a third wife, none of this would’ve happened.”

Cain’s snarl tore the air as his fist lashed out, striking Lucifer across the face. The blow staggered him only slightly — but it was enough. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. He seized Cain’s wrist, crushing down with supernatural force until the bones creaked.

Then he retaliated.

His fist slammed into Cain’s face like a hammer, sending the sinner crashing backward. Rocks shattered as Cain skidded across the ground, stunned. Lucifer wasted no time, wings flaring as he soared after him, fist cocked for another blow.

But Cain was faster than expected. He rolled aside, sprang to his feet, and charged. His new body was durable, strong, alien — yet it carried him with frightening momentum. He slammed into Lucifer not realising before it was too late that Lucifer used this to his advantage grabbing Cain and taking flight going from the ground right into the air with speed unheard of to Cain who in an attempt to retaliate, wrapped his new massive arm around his throat.

Lucifer only chuckled. In a puff of smoke, his form dissolved, leaving a serpent with feathered wings writhing from Cain’s grasp. The creature hissed, then vanished, re-forming above. Gravity claimed Cain once more, dragging him down in a brutal fall.

He struck the ground hard — directly before Lilith.

Somehow, he still breathed. Blood trickled down his snout, but his eyes burned with defiance. He tilted his head skyward just in time to see Lucifer descend again, only to stop midair, grinning.

“HEY LILITH!” he roared. “I THINK YOU SHOULD HAVE A TURN WITH THIS WASTE OF SPACE! I’VE TENDERIZED HIM ENOUGH!”

Cain blinked in disbelief. Lilith’s shadow fell over him. Before he could react, her hand seized one of his horns. Pain lanced through his skull as she twisted — hard. The sound of cracking bone filled the air.

Cain screamed.

With one final wrench, the horn snapped clean off. He collapsed, writhing.

Lucifer landed beside her, expression gleeful, pressing close with a lascivious grin. “My dear, you look so beautiful when you break those who oppose us. I know exactly how I’ll reward you when we return home~”

Lilith giggled, arms looping around his neck. “Then take me home, my love, and I’ll show you just how much this thrilled me.” She tossed the broken horn aside, and with a flap of wings, the pair soared into the night.

Cain lay alone, broken in the crater. His vision blurred, fading in and out. Perhaps this was eternity — beaten, humiliated, left to rot.

But then he saw her.

A woman stood at the rim of his smaller crater, her silhouette framed by Hell’s crimson light. Long black hair flowed over her shoulders. Her clothing was strange, unlike anything he remembered — tight black trousers that hugged her legs, a checkered shirt of black and white, and a crimson blazer that echoed Lucifer’s own, though his was pure white. A small hat perched at an angle atop her head.

Her face, however, was hidden. Blurred, as though shadow itself obeyed her will.

Cain tried to lift his head, but strength failed him. Darkness pulled at the edges of his vision. Yet when she knelt beside him and cupped his cheek, her touch was impossibly gentle — heartbreakingly familiar.

She sighed, and in a voice he never thought he’d hear again, she whispered:

“Cainy… welcome home.”

The last of his strength fled. Darkness claimed him.

End of Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Cain had no idea how long he had been unconscious. Time itself felt meaningless, a void of endless silence that stretched on and on until he finally stirred. When his heavy eyelids peeled open, he found himself not on the scorched wasteland where he had fallen, but in a strange and almost impossibly peaceful garden.

At first, confusion seized him. His body was heavy, aching with every breath, and his mind swam with broken fragments of memory. He remembered stumbling through barren soil that cracked like dry bone beneath his feet. He remembered collapsing as darkness wrapped around him. And, most vividly, he remembered the sound of a voice—soft, feminine, achingly familiar—speaking to him just before everything faded.

His eyes shot open wider, his heart pounding as a single word echoed in his thoughts: Cainy.

Only one person had ever called him that. Only one voice had ever given that nickname life, and she had been gone for centuries—buried in the earth of a world long abandoned.

“Impossible,” he muttered to himself, his throat dry and raw.

The sound of approaching footsteps yanked him from his spiraling thoughts. His instincts screamed. Being chased, hunted, devoured—those things had marked his recent existence so thoroughly that every sound set him on edge. He turned his head sharply, muscles straining in protest, prepared to lash out or flee if he had the strength.

But what he saw froze him in place.

The woman from before stood before him once again. Her appearance was changed now; she wore not the strange, alien attire that had unsettled him earlier, but instead a simple grey fur dress that clung to her form with quiet dignity. The sight of her made his breath hitch, and despite the stabbing pain lancing through his ribs and spine, he tried to sit upright. His arms trembled, his body shook, but still he struggled against the weight of his pain.

The woman stepped forward and placed her hand gently against his forehead. At her touch, a wave of calm washed over him, easing his frantic resistance. She coaxed him back down, guiding him into a resting position with such tenderness that tears immediately pricked the corners of his eyes.

He could finally see her face clearly.

Cain’s vision blurred as emotion overtook him. His lips parted, and the question fell from him in a trembling whisper, fragile as glass.

“Mom… is that you?”

The woman—his mother—smiled softly, her eyes glowing with a warmth that wrapped around him like the embrace of sunlight after a storm. She nodded, brushing her palm along his cheek as though to reassure him she was no illusion.

For a long, precious moment, neither spoke. Mother and son simply gazed at one another, their faces lit by smiles that masked the centuries of sorrow and loss between them. Each silently wished the moment could stretch into eternity.

At last, she pulled her hand away and broke the silence. “Cain,” she said gently, her voice carrying the ache of longing and the strength of love. “It is so good to see you… but I wish it were under better circumstances.”

She carefully helped him shift, raising him into a position where he was half-sitting, supported by her guiding hands. She moved with practiced patience, mindful of every flinch and hiss of pain that escaped him.

“I wanted to come to you immediately when I felt your soul descending here,” she continued, her tone darkening, “but those two reached you first. I cannot bear to see their disgusting faces again—not after what they did to us.”

Confusion furrowed Cain’s brow. His mother’s words stirred unease within him. He swallowed back the ache in his throat and forced out a question through clenched teeth and ragged breath.

“Mom… how did you even know it was me? How could you feel my soul descending? And where are we, exactly?”

Eve chuckled softly, the sound like a bell from a happier time. “You still get distracted halfway through your questions,” she teased lightly. “Just like when you were a child.”

Cain’s lips twitched at that, the faintest shadow of a smile flickering across his face.

“Since I passed away,” Eve explained gently, “I’ve been able to feel when my children leave the mortal world—whether they ascend… or descend. Abel ascended to Heaven, as he was meant to, when you were cast down here. When Seth died, I felt his passing as well. After that, the line grew quiet. I thought I had accounted for all of you—until you. When I felt that familiar essence again, I knew it was you and your brother.”

Her gaze swept around the lush garden, where pale blossoms swayed gently in a breeze that seemed to exist only here. “This place,” she said, “is of my own making. A little sanctuary I crafted for myself, to remind me of what once was. A memory of the paradise that brought me here in the first place.”

Cain exhaled slowly, relief settling into his chest. Abel had ascended. At least one of his mistakes had found peace. But with relief came another question, one that gnawed at him. He turned his head to meet his mother’s eyes again, her hand still resting on his shoulder like an anchor.

“Mom,” he said quietly, “what are you doing down here? You were the purest person I’ve ever known. How could you be damned to this place? Why aren’t you with Father and Abel? Unless…” His voice caught, trembling with dread. “Unless Dad is—”

“Shhh.” Eve pressed a finger to his lips, her face clouded with guilt. “No. Your father is in Heaven. I know that with certainty.” She hesitated, a shadow crossing her features before she confessed, “I am here because of the Apple. When I tasted it, something attached itself to me. Something meant to birth evil into the world. That… thing is who you first encountered. She and I share the same body, though our appearances differ. I wear this dress to remember what I once was. She, however, cloaks herself in whatever garish attire she pleases.”

Cain listened, his heart heavy. Slowly, with effort, he lifted his arms. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he embraced his mother. His arms trembled as he wrapped them around her, his tears flowing freely as he pressed his face against her shoulder.

“I missed you so much,” he sobbed. “I never even got to say goodbye. I’m so sorry.”

Eve clutched him tightly, her own tears—black and glistening—sliding down her cheeks. For centuries she had yearned for this, to hold one of her children again, to remember the love of family unmarred by corruption. She had been denied it, watching helplessly as Lucifer and Lilith ensnared her children with promises and lies. But now, in her arms, was the son who had dared defy them. The son who still remembered her.

At last, she pulled back and extended her hand. “Give me your hand, Cain.”

He obeyed, pressing his palm against hers. At once, the cursed mark branded on his flesh flared to life. Half of it was broken, jagged where divine power had once held sway. Eve closed her eyes, muttering words too ancient and soft for Cain to hear.

When she opened her eyes again, they glimmered faintly. “Michael’s mark upon you was shattered by your death. But a fragment remains, and through Roo’s permission, I can give you a gift. A new mark. Something to help you survive this hellscape. Roo has not told me everything about its powers, but she said it would surpass the old one—and allow you to tend the land once more, as you once did.”

Hope stirred faintly in Cain’s chest. He gave her a small, grateful nod.

Dark energy, thick as smoke, began to coil through the garden. Eve held fast to her son’s hand, channeling her will. The shattered mark on his wrist writhed, reshaping itself. The jagged lines formed into a new symbol: a black seven, bold and sharp, with two dots beneath it like watching eyes.

Cain stared in shock, marveling at the strange power thrumming beneath his skin. But when he looked back at his mother, he froze.

Her eyes had changed. The warmth was gone, replaced by something alien—something ancient and calculating.

This was no longer Eve.

Cain stiffened, every muscle tensed. “You’re Roo,” he said, his voice low and wary. “The one sharing her body. What did you do?”

A giggle slithered out of her throat, demonic and oily. Her eyes glowed red with pale irises that seemed to pierce straight through him.

“Yes,” she purred. “I am Roo. Your mother merely sleeps. I wanted to speak with you alone, dear Cain. About your new mark.” She tilted her head, her smile curling in unnatural delight. “With it, you will heal from any wound. Any harm dealt to you will return to the one who inflicted it. But that is only the beginning. If you wish to unlock its true potential, you must test it. Touch one of Pride’s sinners, and you will see. I promise you—it will be worth it.”

Her hand flicked dismissively, and Cain felt himself wrenched backward through a sudden rift. The garden tore away from him, replaced by a swirling portal that spat him out into chaos.

He landed hard just outside the gates of Pride City. The portal sealed behind him with a snap, leaving him alone once more.

Groaning, clutching his aching side, Cain staggered to his feet. Before him loomed the city—a place unlike anything he had ever seen.

Skyscrapers soared into the void above, taller than any tower built by mortal hands. Their surfaces gleamed with materials he did not recognize, studded with countless squares of glowing light. Strange colors bled across the skyline, powered by forces he could not begin to comprehend. The sight stole his breath, wonder colliding with dread.

For a moment, Cain forgot his pain. He stood transfixed, like a child gazing upon the stars for the first time.

But the pain returned swiftly, dragging him down to harsh reality. He stumbled against a cold wall, trying to steady himself as citizens passed by. They cast sidelong glances, whispers trailing after them. Cain ignored their stares, his instincts telling him that attention—any attention—was dangerous here.

Then, from a nearby alley, came the sound of heavy snoring.

Cain turned his head. Curiosity—or perhaps instinct—pulled him toward the sound. A figure lay slumped in the shadows, oblivious in restless sleep.

Cain’s footsteps echoed louder than he intended as he approached, each step sending a tremor of doubt through him. His hand lifted almost against his will, hovering above the stranger’s forehead. His mark burned faintly, eager, alive.

When his palm met the sinner’s skin, the reaction was immediate.

The mark flared, glowing red-hot. The man’s eyes snapped open as a scream of agony tore from his throat. He thrashed, throwing a desperate punch at Cain’s face. But instead of striking him, the man’s fist rebounded violently, teeth cracking in his own mouth.

Cain recoiled, horrified, but the process continued. The man’s very essence seemed to unravel, drawn into the mark on Cain’s wrist. For five long minutes, Cain held fast as the man’s body withered, his struggles weakening, until at last he vanished entirely—leaving behind only a pair of worn shoes.

Cain stood in silence, staring at the empty space where the man had been. His wounds tingled. He realized, with dawning horror and awe, that they had healed. The mark’s promise was true.

He bent down slowly, almost numbly, and picked up the shoes. They fit, oddly enough. He slid them onto his feet, every motion mechanical.

As he turned to leave the alley, he failed to notice the faint, oily print his own foot had left behind on the ground. A mark like tar, black and slick, a warning of what had just transpired.

Cain emerged back into the city streets, the echo of Roo’s words resounding in his mind.

Touch one of Pride’s sinners… it will all be worth it.

And as the neon lights flickered above, Cain could not tell if his trembling was from fear… or anticipation.

Chapter Text

It had been years since Cain’s first descent into Hell, yet each day seemed to reveal more of its horrors, more of its strange wonders. Over time, he had learned that Hell was not merely an endless expanse of massive, imposing buildings. Interspersed among the colossal spires were smaller homes, huts, and shacks—echoes of the villages he had walked through while still alive. And then, there were the structures that fascinated him the most, those that seemed to defy logic and expectation.

One such structure he had discovered through the memories of a recently absorbed sinner: a massive fortress known as a “Castle.” It belonged to Lucifer and Lilith, beings Cain had first encountered on his very first day in Pride. Thanks to his mark, Cain had learned to delve into the memories of those he absorbed, uncovering not only their sins but glimpses of their lives, and sometimes, their fates.

The revelations had been unsettling. Many of the sinners populating Hell were his own progeny or siblings. At first, their numbers were sparse. But in the years since his damnation, the ranks of sinners had swelled. Rumors whispered of “Overlords”—beings of immense power who rose by forcing weaker souls into servitude, forming tribes akin to those in the mortal world. Cain, curious and ever methodical, decided it was time to investigate one of these new Overlords.

He walked through the narrow streets of a small village, the eyes of the Overlord’s subjects following his every step. None dared confront him openly. Fear had long been a companion to Cain, and rumor had served him well in keeping the majority of Hell’s denizens at bay. Occasionally, however, a bold sinner would test their luck. Over the past fifteen years, Cain had absorbed nearly two hundred souls, each encounter leaving him stronger, sharper, and more attuned to the endless hierarchy of Hell.

At last, Cain stopped before the Overlord’s dwelling. The building towered above the others, a monument to ego and cruelty.

Huh, this is how they feed their ego, huh… having the tallest building to themselves while the others barely have anything. Impressive, and cruel at the same time, he thought, his hooved foot slamming against the massive door. The force rattled it open. Cain’s form had changed in subtle but significant ways over the years. Once human feet, now hooves, adapted from the sinners he had absorbed, gave him strength and stability, though it had taken months to learn to walk and run without stumbling.

Inside, three guards sprang from their posts. The first, a hulking moose-like creature Cain recognized from years past, charged. His momentum was brutal, but Cain met him head-on only for his mark to reflect the impact back to the Moose man and sending the creature flying backward into the wall, coughing blood across its robe.

'Huh… that robe looks mighty comfortable. I might take it when I’m done with these three and their boss', Cain mused as the next attacker, a massive dire wolf, lunged. Its teeth sank into Cain’s shoulder, but in a cruel reversal thanks to his mark, the wound appeared on the wolf instead. Blood stained its fur as Cain groaned, realizing the fight required swift conclusion.

The final guard, a green-scaled serpent, attempted to constrict him, hissing curses in a language Cain did not recognize. The tip of its tail brushed against his hand, and with a small struggle, Cain grasped it tightly. The serpent’s eyes widened as Cain’s mark flared, and within moments, its body disintegrated into his arm, leaving only its discarded robes behind.

Turning to the remaining wolf, Cain watched as it struggled to rise, its words echoing in a language now partially decipherable through the absorbed memories: “I AM GONNA KILL YOU AGAIN AND AGAIN FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!” Rage burned in its yellow eyes, but Cain’s fist met its skull with unstoppable force, sending it into the floor. Both wolf and moose were absorbed, their souls folding seamlessly into Cain.

Ahead, a pair of metal doors with a curious arrow marking caught his attention. Intrigued, Cain pressed it. Above, a strange device displayed numbers and a moving stick. G… 10, As Cain entered the strange box he would notice buttons on the inside with numbers on them just like on the little device above the box and so taking a guess on where to find this overlord he pressed the number 10 and began to wait. The sensation was immediate and jarring—a subtle, unnatural rising, a shifting of the floor beneath him. Cain’s hooves scraped the smooth metal of the box, and the doors slid closed.

What in all creation… is this feeling? he thought, gripping the edge of the metal walls. The enclosed space vibrated gently, numbers ticking upward as he rose. His mind raced with curiosity and mild apprehension.

When the doors opened, Cain stepped out onto a new floor. The room was lined with surprisingly soft carpet, yielding pleasantly beneath his hooves. At the opposite end, the Overlord stared back at him. Towering, double Cain’s height, with a grotesque, coal-dark body clad only in a red wolf-fur loincloth, the being’s presence was overwhelming. Its head was a deer’s skull, antlers stretching wide, clawed hands twisted unnaturally.

Cain smiled faintly. 'Well, this will be interesting'.

Charging, he was met with the Overlord’s foot slamming into the desk in front of him and as it was sent flying Cain was hit by the desk and launched backwards. Pain lanced through his back as he collided with the wall, yet a chuckle escaped him. 'So this is a limitation of the mark. Noted'. Rising, Cain bellowed in the language of the fallen guards, “GET READY TO DIE!”

The Overlord leapt, claws extended, antlers poised. Their collision shook the room. Cain attempted to slam his hands between the antlers, but the beast twisted and aimed its Antlers down towards Cains abdomen but unfortunately for the overlord the damage would reflect causing the overlord to practically impale himself and as the pain hit he fell to the ground before rolling in agony. White, soulless dots within the skull glimmered as it swore, partially comprehensible through Cain’s new knowledge: “My name is Sahn-Uzal. I WILL NOT BE BEATEN BY THE LIKES OF YOU!”

Cain’s foot connected with the puncture in its stomach. “My name is Cain. If you have not heard of me, trust me… you will have plenty of time to learn it.” His hand touched the Overlord’s arm, and absorption began. Sahn-Uzal fought, scratches and kicks lashing out, but each movement only intensified his torment. Cain, in a display of calculated cruelty, absorbed fragments of the Overlord’s soul incrementally, prolonging agony until all that remained were the antlers.

Lifting them, Cain felt an overwhelming surge of power and insight. Connections forged by Sahn-Uzal flowed into him, and with a flick of his hand, a thousand parchments appeared across the floor. Contracts that once bound souls to Sahn-Uzal now bore Cain’s mark. A wicked grin spread across his face as he grasped one parchment, instantly locating the specific sinner bound to it. I have work to do… and I will enjoy every moment of it.

Cain stepped toward the metal doors again, recalling the Overlord’s memories. The strange device—el-ev-ator, as it had been called—brought souls from one floor to another at a simple press of a button. He pressed another number, observing the floors numbers, curious at the strange mechanism. His mind lingered on the marvel of this device.

How peculiar… such a simple contraption, yet capable of moving people from one floor to the next with ease. 'This must be the work of Lucifer as I doubt any sinner could possibly have created this!' had some ingenuity, Cain mused, stepping back outside after collecting the robes from the fallen serpent creature and tossing his old clothing aside. His attention was caught by another, more personal change: the hair across his body had grown darker, and when he touched it, his palm came away wet with a strange black liquid. 'What is this… a consequence of Roo’s warning, perhaps?'

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a roar of rushing water echoed in Pride, a sound reminiscent of ocean waves. Then came the screaming. Cain looked up, eyes widening as an impossible flood of sinners descended from the sky. Their mass was far greater than usual, far beyond the normal “sin drops” he had observed over the past five years.

'Wait… these sinners look like they’re going to… OH HERE NOOO!!'

Before he could react, one collided with him, and then another, until he was entirely buried beneath the weight of the newly arrived souls. Yet Cain’s grin only widened. His mark glowed crimson, and the pile stirred with life beneath him. Every struggling sinner was another potential source of power, another piece of the vast puzzle he was constructing.

'Delicious… all of this power, all of this chaos…' he thought, savoring the moment. 'This change is unexpected but I shall welcome it with open arms'. 'And now… I will enjoy every single soul that comes my way!'.

Cain’s laughter echoed through the streets of Pride as the first pile of souls he had encountered disappeared into himself, a deep, resonant sound that mingled with the cries of the damned. Above, the flood of sinners continued to fall, unrelenting, while below, the contracts, the power, and the knowledge of the Overlord coursed through him. He was no longer merely a survivor of Hell. He is now something more!, and the world of the damned was his to command.

As the new found power coursed through his body so many ideas came to mind on what he could do with his new found power. The possibilities thrilled him. Every corner of Pride, every hidden alley, every colossal tower was now within reach.

And Cain, ever patient, ever calculating, smiled with cruel anticipation. 'Let the sinners come… let them fall into my grasp. Let them learn fear. Let them learn power. And let them learn… the name Cain!'.

For the father of murder, the first one who's soul was to be damned to Hell upon his death, the abyss was no longer a prison. It was a kingdom.

Chapter Text

An additional five years had long since passed since Cain had become an Overlord, and in that time a vast flood of souls had descended into Hell in waves. Each new tide brought more of the damned, screaming, pleading, or silent in their descent. Cain had consumed many of them, but he could not ignore the pattern that emerged: all of these souls—every single one—had died beneath water.

 

Drowned.

 

It was strange. In the beginning, he dismissed it as coincidence. But after thousands of devoured memories, the image became clear: a massive wave consuming the mortal world. Among the fragmented thoughts of the drowned came a name that repeated like a hymn—Noah. A man chosen by Heaven, who built an ark to carry two of every creature through the great flood.

 

At first, Cain had laughed at the absurdity. Yet the more he consumed, the more he understood that this was no mortal myth—it was truth. The Flood had been Heaven’s hand, and the dead it left behind now filled Hell like a swollen sea.

 

He began to wonder: why notify only one man? Why spare so few?

 

Driven by this question, Cain traveled to the very edge of Pride, to the place where he had first fallen from Heaven’s light. The scorched stone beneath his feet still bore the faint echo of his impact. As he stood there, the mark upon his body began to glow with an eerie radiance, pulsing faintly like a heart.

 

He thought, for a fleeting moment, that his mother might appear. Instead, the air shimmered—and Roo emerged, her form bathed in subtle warmth, eyes bright with knowing.

 

“Hello, Cain,” she greeted softly, her tone a blend of curiosity and delight. “You must have questions about the influx of souls.”

 

Cain inclined his head. “I came to find my mother. I thought she would know the reason for this, but perhaps you do as well.”

 

Roo’s expression softened into something fond—almost maternal. “Oh, Cain,” she murmured, stepping closer, “you may not think of yourself as such, but you are as much my son as Eve’s. Your siblings, your descendants, the mortals—they all carry a faint whisper of my influence within them. It grants them the power to choose between good and evil.”

 

She paused, her smile deepening, touched with melancholy. “But you and your sister, Aclima… you were different. Conceived before Eve took the apple. I needed someone who could open the gates of sin itself. You, my little Apple Seed, were that key. You could have opened those gates through any sin—but you chose murder. That was your decision alone… though you did inherit your mother’s temper.”

 

Cain’s eyes widened. For a moment, he was not just an Overlord but a son—remembering the warmth of his mother’s lap, her hands brushing through his hair after a long day, the rare peace it brought him. The memory fractured when Roo’s touch grazed his cheek. Her gaze held the same affection as Eve’s once had.

 

“Yes,” she continued, “Heaven created the flood. Too much sin had accumulated, and they sought to cleanse the world. They entrusted one man—Noah—with survival. The rest were left to perish. That is why Hell overflows with souls even now.”

 

Her voice turned hushed, reverent. “Continue to collect them, Cain. You stand at the edge of something glorious. I will not spoil it, but your mark will… grant you more.”

 

Before Cain could respond, a portal split the air, its pull irresistible. The world blurred, and when it steadied again, he stood in the heart of Pride City. Roo was gone.

 

Cain exhaled, irritation simmering beneath his calm. He could still hear Roo’s words echoing in his mind—something glorious. Whatever that meant, he would uncover it. And to do so, he would need more souls.

 

His eyes swept over the blood-stained streets of Pride. Demons cackled, sinners bartered, flaming candle lights burned through the crimson fog. He could feel the power of nearby Overlords—gluttonous and bloated from feeding on the flood’s victims. Perfect prey.

 

Cain made his way to one of the towering buildings that dominated the skyline. The guards stationed there froze at his approach, their fear palpable. His reputation had long since spread; his presence alone was enough to silence entire rooms. He walked past them without a word, pressing the elevator button and waiting for what he still called the “metal box.”

 

When the doors opened with a hiss, Cain stepped inside, ascending toward the tenth floor. As the elevator stopped, the doors parted—and he found himself staring into the grotesque face of the building’s master.

 

The creature was something between fish and man, its head grotesquely swollen, three times the size of its body. Drool oozed down its slack mouth, pooling on the floor.

 

“Oh, good Heaven,” Cain muttered, gagging. “What are you?!”

 

The fishlike sinner hissed, skittering backward on eight crab-like legs until it reached the far wall. Its watery stench filled the room.

 

Disgust hardened into fury. Cain lunged forward—only to be struck mid-charge by a torrent of water. The blast threw him through the window, and the world became a blur of motion and roaring wind.

 

He fell, the city rushing up to meet him. Acting on instinct, he flung out his arm—and something inside him shifted. His arm stretched, blackened, liquefied into a tendril that lashed onto the side of the building, halting his descent.

 

Cain dangled there, wide-eyed. “What in the—”

 

The thought cut off as realization bloomed. If one arm can do this…

 

With effort, he swung his other arm upward. It, too, morphed—black as tar, slick and sinuous. He slammed it against the building, anchoring himself, then began to climb backward down the wall. Each movement tightened the cords of his transformed limbs.

 

Then, grinning, he released his hold and launched himself skyward. The momentum sent him soaring past the tenth floor, landing hard upon the roof. The surface was slick beneath him, but he steadied himself with his altered arm, panting—then laughing.

 

This power… it thrilled him.

 

He looked down through the roof, hearing the faint scuttling of his foe. A plan formed. Cain clenched his reformed fist and drove it into the metal. Again. And again. The roof began to dent beneath his blows. At last, the metal gave way, and he dropped through the hole—

 

Only to be struck once more from behind.

 

The water slammed him into a wall with bone-rattling force. Snarling, Cain drove his fists into the floor, dragging himself closer inch by inch against the torrent. At last the water ceased, and the fishlike sinner sagged, exhausted.

 

Cain’s grin turned feral. He lunged, pinning the creature and seizing its jaw. His arms, slick with shifting blackness, strained. The air filled with the sinner’s gargled screams before a sickening tear split the room. The lower jaw came free in Cain’s hands.

 

Without hesitation, he pressed his palm to the creature’s face. The mark ignited, and the Overlord’s body dissolved into shadow and flame, its soul drawn into Cain’s being. He laughed—deep, demonic, and triumphant.

 

Then the laughter broke into a scream.

 

Pain surged through him like wildfire. His fur melted into black liquid, dripping from his body to reveal the pale glimmer of bone beneath. He collapsed, convulsing, the agony unlike anything he had known in life or death.

 

The liquid returned, coiling around him—wrapping tighter and tighter until he was encased in a solid sphere of black. The world outside vanished. Within, there was only the sound of his own heartbeat, the whisper of memories.

 

He saw everything—his crime, his exile, his triumphs, his mother’s sorrow, Roo’s smile. He saw the first moment he had killed, and the last moment he had felt alive.

 

And then… he saw himself. The man he had once been.

 

The orb quivered, then shattered like glass.

 

Light—red and blinding—poured over him as the shell dissolved. Cain gasped, shielding his eyes. His hand… was human.

 

He stood slowly, trembling, staring at his reflection in the shattered window.

 

The face that looked back was his own—his human face, unscarred and youthful. Only the goat horns that curled from his brow and the infernal crimson of his eyes betrayed what he had become.

 

He touched his cheek in disbelief. For the first time in centuries, he felt his own heartbeat—not a demonic pulse, but something warm, fragile, real.

 

Across the room, unseen by him, a small red eye opened within the wall—a tether to Roo’s domain. She watched him, smiling with something between pride and hunger.

 

“My little one,” she whispered, her voice echoing across planes. “You have ascended from a simple Overlord and become something greater. Your limits in Hell shall know no bounds… my little Archfiend.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: War
The year was 4500 BC. Hell, in its own way, had matured. The chaotic, initial settlements had bled into sprawling, ramshackle cities. The constant screams had found a rhythm, a horrifying backdrop to the eternal damnation of its inhabitants. And Cain, along with six other beings of immense and terrible power, had been summoned to the castle of the Morningstar. The summons was not a request.

Ever since his agonizing evolution into an Archfiend, Cain had learned the true extent of his new status. He was no longer merely a sinner, not even an Overlord. He was something more. The primary advantage, the one that set the seven of them apart from every other soul in Hell, was freedom. The barrier that Roo had explained to him—a shimmering, invisible wall of her own making, designed to keep Lucifer trapped with the "fruits of his foolish choices"—was now intangible to them. Cain could travel through the other rings at will.

He had done so. He’d walked the gluttonous feasting grounds of Gluttony, felt the oppressive greed of the Greed ring, and seen the false, hollow lights of Lust. He’d even braved the soul-chilling cold of Sloth and the endless, wailing battles of Wrath. Each ring was a different flavor of torment, but he always found himself drawn back to Pride. Perhaps it was familiarity, or perhaps it was the sheer, unadulterated ambition that thrummed through its very foundations. The only ring he had actively despised was Greed; the cloying, metallic stench of avarice that clung to the air had sickened him to his very core. ‘That ring,’ he had sworn to himself, ‘I will not be going near again.’

As he approached Lucifer’s castle, a monolithic structure of jagged obsidian and screaming souls, he noted that it hadn't changed a bit. It was a monument to arrogance and power. The massive doors, carved with scenes of the Fall, swung open for him without a touch. Stepping inside, he was surprised by the assembly awaiting him.

There they stood. The seven Sins of Hell, the living embodiments of cosmic principles. Satan, Beelzebub, Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Leviathan, and… Lucifer. A primal, instinctual part of Cain’s mind, the part that was still just a man who had his family insulted, urged him to lunge. To finish the fight they had started millennia ago. But flashes of their first encounter—Lilith snapping his horn, Lucifer’s casual, devastating power—flared in his memory, forcing a cold pragmatism to the forefront. He was stronger now, vastly so, but the Morningstar was the King of Hell for a reason.

Cain’s gaze swept over the other Sins. They were all so much… larger than Lucifer. He had to suppress a smirk. ‘Huh. For the King of Hell, he’s the shortest one in the room. Rather funny.’

His eyes settled on Satan first, and a wave of pure, undiluted intimidation washed over him. The Sin of Wrath was a mountain of crimson red flesh, crisscrossed with glowing orange lines that looked like molten lava flowing just beneath his skin. He looked more like the king of Hell than the actual king. He wore a primitive, tribal garb fashioned from the bones of countless, unidentifiable creatures. A massive, demonic mammoth skull was worn like a codpiece, and Cain had to consciously force himself not to stare, a morbid curiosity warring with his self-preservation as he wondered where one even acquired such a thing.

Next, his eyes shifted to Beelzebub, the Sin of Gluttony. She was a mesmerizing, terrifying combination of insect and wolf. Her form was slender and powerful, supported by multiple limbs, and a pair of gossamer wings fluttered on her back. But it was her hair that captured his attention—a brilliant, cascading river of pure gold that seemed to have a life of its own. He had never seen anything like it, not in all his years of life or death. Her clothes, a daring combination of silks and leathers, were tailored to accommodate her extra arms, a practical consideration Cain had learned was vital for beings with non-standard forms.

Then came Mammon, the Sin of Greed. Cain had to blink, certain his eyes were deceiving him. The being was a grotesque mountain of white fat, his sheer mass seeming to defy the laws of physics. He wore no shirt, and Cain doubted any material could ever contain his gargantuan gut. His lower body, however, was that of a colossal spider, eight chitinous legs supporting his immense weight with a creaking sound that grated on the nerves. Cain quickly averted his gaze, a wave of nausea rolling in his stomach.

Asmodeus, the Sin of Lust, was half as tall as Satan but no less intimidating. He was a being of pure fire, a walking inferno with two smaller, expressive faces flickering within the main blaze. A few brilliant, iridescent feathers were scattered across his form, reminding Cain of a strange rooster he’d once seen. He wore minimal clothing, a silken loincloth that did little to hide the raw, sensual energy radiating from him.

Leviathan, the Sin of Envy, was a two-headed being, her body split perfectly down the middle. One side was a pale, almost beautiful woman with long fins flowing like hair from her head. The other was a vicious, purple-scaled monstrosity, its face a twisted snarl reminiscent of a barracuda his father had once described. The contrast was jarring, a perfect representation of covetousness and jealousy.

Last was Belphegor, the Sin of Sloth. A lamb-like woman, her eyes were closed in perpetual slumber. She stood perfectly still, swaying slightly. Cain was impressed; he hadn't known it was possible to sleep while standing. A dark candle was affixed to her head, a single purple flame glowing atop it, casting eerie shadows across her serene face.

And finally, Lucifer. The source of so much of his pain. The being Cain was dreading having to listen to. But then, someone else walked into the room, taking their place beside the King of Hell. Lilith. Her eyes found his, and in them was not the warmth he remembered from Eve, but a look of sharp, calculating confusion. A sense of dread, cold and familiar, began to crawl up his spine.

The silence was broken by Beelzebub. She floated down from her perch, her movements fluid and graceful, until she was eye-to-eye with Cain. Her voice was like honey laced with poison, and as she spoke, Cain felt an unnatural hunger gnaw at his gut.

“So, you are the first Archfiend,” she purred, her glowing eyes searching his. “You have arrived earlier than expected. But hopefully, you and the others will be eager to hear what is being planned. Now, tell us… what is your name?”

Cain met her gaze without flinching, the red glow of his own eyes intensifying. “My name is Cain,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “The firstborn son of Adam and Eve. The Father of Murder.”

The announcement landed like a thunderclap. Lucifer and Lilith’s eyes widened in shock. They stared at the figure they had so casually brutalized millennia ago, now a being of immense power, a peer to the Sins themselves. Cain let the silence hang for a moment before continuing. “You seem to have something important to discuss if you are finally reaching out to me and the others. Though, whoever sent the imp to my domain, I thank you. They tasted rather delicious.” His face remained a mask of calm, but his eyes held the weight of the thousands of souls he had absorbed.

Before any of the Sins could respond, the ground began to shake violently. The very foundations of the castle groaned. Beelzebub and Mammon stumbled, while Asmodeus’s flames flickered wildly. Only Satan, who planted his feet with a grin, and Belphegor, who remained swaying in her slumber, were unaffected. Cain had to shoot several black tendrils from his sides to anchor himself to the floor. He sighed in annoyance, turning to face the source of the disturbance.

“Hello, Typhon,” he said dryly. “It has been a while.”

The greeting was met with a low growl of disgust. The second Archfiend entered the throne room with difficulty, his sheer size forcing him to hunch over. Typhon was a monster, a living storm given form. His body was a swirling vortex of darkened clouds, crackling with crimson lightning, hiding whatever true form lay beneath. Cain didn’t care to find out. He knew one thing: with Typhon’s emergence, the others were close behind. Typhon was their self-appointed leader, and he viewed Cain with contempt. The reason was absurdly simple: while the other Archfiends reveled in their maximum forms, towering over all others, Cain preferred to maintain his human height. To Typhon, this made him the weakest.

Right on cue, the third Archfiend entered. Tiamat, the bride of Typhon. A colossal, five-headed dragon beast. Each of her heads was a different color and represented a different element: fire from the red, ice from the white, lightning from the blue, poison from the green, and a corrosive acid smoke from the black. Cain gave her a small, respectful nod, which she pointedly ignored, nuzzling one of her heads against Typhon’s cloudy form.

The fourth to arrive was Set. He was a towering figure, his skin as black as a moonless night, adorned in strange, vibrant clothing of white, blue, and red, accented with golden armor and a menacing mask that obscured his face. This was Set, the only Archfiend Cain would consider a companion, perhaps even a friend. His power was creative and deadly; he could command the very sands of the deserts. He carried a massive, wicked-looking axe he called his ‘Epsilon Ax.’ He met Cain’s gaze and gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod in return.

The fifth Archfiend was Apophis, a gigantic serpent monster. His body was covered in thick, impenetrable scales, and his veins glowed with the same orange light as Satan’s flesh, representing the molten blood that pumped through his body. If an enemy could breach his scales, they would be instantly incinerated. He was the first of the two serpentine Archfiends.

The sixth, Quetzalcoatl, was also a colossal serpent, but he was a stark contrast to Apophis. His body was covered in beautiful, iridescent, green-feathered scales. He was far more intelligent than most of the other Archfiends, and it was he who had brokered a fragile peace between the seven powerhouses of Pride. He could unleash devastating hurricanes from his maw.

The last Archfiend was Fenris, a gigantic black wolf. His teeth were like obsidian knives, and his claws could tear reality itself, opening portals not just between the rings of Hell, but to any location in Pride. He was considered the most mobile and elusive of the Archfiends, able to evade any who sought to claim his power.

As the seven Archfiends assembled before the seven Sins, a tense silence filled the throne room. Lucifer slowly grinned, a predator’s delight spreading across his face. He was about to speak when Satan’s booming voice cut him off.

“You are the strongest sinners in Hell,” the Sin of Wrath declared, his voice shaking the very air. “You can travel beyond this ring. It is believed you can even travel back to where you started from, if a portal was opened.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Hell will be commencing an invasion of Earth. We will take it under our control and strike a direct blow against Heaven. But we need generals. Beings of pure power to lead our armies. You have been chosen.”

The news hit Cain like a physical blow. Earth. The idea of returning, of seeing the blue sky, of feeling real soil beneath his feet, of breathing air that wasn’t thick with brimstone and despair… it was a thought so profound, so alien, it created a sudden, aching void in his soul. A void that cried out a single word: Home. He found himself leaning forward, hanging on Satan’s every word, a hunger he hadn't felt in centuries rising within him.

Lucifer shot a brief, annoyed glance at Satan before taking over, his trademark grin returning. “We already have the armies prepared. The transportation is on its way. We just need you to step through the portals and establish a beachhead. A base of operations. Once you secure it, we can create much larger portals for the main forces to pour through!”

Cain slowly realized the full scope of the plan. “You wish for us to take and hold a territory,” he stated, his voice loud enough for all to hear. “To clear the way so your armies can invade without interference.”

Lucifer nodded eagerly, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of his own "foolproof" plan. He looked at the Archfiends, playing on their desires. He promised Typhon a whole new world to break, Set new deserts to rule, and Fenris entire continents to hunt. For Cain, he simply said, “And for you, the first sinner… a chance to walk upon the world you lost. A chance to show Heaven the true power of their first mistake.”

The Archfiends began to murmur among themselves, their eyes burning with the promise of conquest. They dreamed of ruling Earth for eternity, their immortality making them unstoppable gods.

A day later, the seven Archfiends stood in Lucifer’s courtyard. The air was thick with anticipation. Asmodeus stepped forward, holding a surprisingly large, yellow crystal. He began to stroke it in a shockingly intimate way, and with each caress, the crystal pulsed with a brighter, more intense light. With a final, shuddering pulse of energy, a massive, swirling portal ripped open in front of them. On the other side, through the maelstrom of cosmic energy, they could see it: Earth. A blue, green, and white marble hanging in the blackness.

Lucifer flew up to them, his six tattered wings flapping majestically. “Now, your jobs are to set up a base on the island we have selected for you. Once the base is established and our armies start pouring in, you are free to move to any part of the world you wish to conquer, taking the armies with you. Now,” he said, his voice dropping to a commanding snarl, “get in there and establish the first step in our takeover!”

One by one, the Archfiends stepped through. Typhon went first, a storm of arrogance and power. Tiamat followed, her heads hissing in anticipation. Set gave Cain one last look before stepping through. Then Apophis, Quetzalcoatl, and Fenris.

Cain was the last. He took a deep breath, the air of Hell filling his lungs one last time, and stepped through the portal.

The transition was disorienting. A whirlwind of color and sensation, and then… impact. He landed in the water, the shock of the cold, salty liquid a brutal awakening after millennia in Hell’s oppressive heat. He surfaced, sputtering and spitting out the foul-tasting seawater. As he dragged himself onto the sandy beach, he watched the other Archfiends making their way towards the mainland, their colossal forms already beginning to reshape the landscape. Typhon let out a roar that caused the very trees to splinter. Tiamat breathed a stream of fire into the ocean, making the water boil.

But Cain paid them no mind. He fell to his knees, his hands sinking into the soft, warm sand. It was real. He looked up, past the unfamiliar stars, and saw a sliver of a moon. He took a deep breath, and the air that filled his lungs was clean, crisp, and alive. It was the air of his youth. The air of his home.

He looked at his hands, his human hands, and then at the monstrous forms of his fellow generals. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. The void in his soul was gone, replaced by a cold, hard certainty.

He was back. And now…

Things will change.

End of Chapter 6

Chapter Text

It had been a week since the seven Archfiends had clawed their way into the human world. Most had wasted no time beginning their march across the untouched lands, searching for the perfect place to establish a stronghold—one from which Hell’s armies could rise, pour through the rift, and begin the grand invasion.

All except for the oldest among them.

Cain walked alone along the coastline, where the sea of the early world stretched into a shimmering bronze horizon. He had never seen such a place—never felt sand beneath his feet or tasted air so untainted. His entire existence had been bound to the harsh, burning terrain of his birth. Now, here, the world felt wide. Spacious. Almost peaceful. He stood still, letting coarse grains slide between his toes, staring out at the rolling tide with something like a soft smile tugging at his lips.

He might have stood there for hours, lost in the vastness of this new world, had the sand beneath him not shifted.

A sudden force erupted upward—an enormous pillar of sandstone and dirt shot from beneath the beach, striking him square in the chest. The impact launched him backward through the air before he crashed into the surf, sending up a spray of white foam. The earth-shaking tremor that followed announced the culprit even before Cain lifted his head.

Set.

The golden-masked figure stood over him, towering and unmoving, the sunlight glinting off the metal bands woven through his skin. When Cain opened his mouth to speak, Set raised a hand—not to strike, but to silence him. His voice came deep and layered, like stone grinding against stone.

“Cain,” he rumbled, “while I respect you as the first of our kind, we both know the others will not risk failure because you insist on standing still as if frozen.”

Cain closed his mouth, letting the sting of the words settle. He nodded once—silent, but acknowledging. Set was right. Peace, curiosity, sentiment… those things were luxuries Hell did not afford them.

And so he followed.

Their seven-day journey wound across an ancient landscape. They travelled over plains thick with wild grasses untouched by man, through forests where titanic trees clawed at the heavens, and past human settlements so primitive even Cain could barely recognize them as cities. Smoke from cooking pits curled through the morning air; herders moved in scattered patterns across hillsides; women washed woven cloth by the river’s edge. Life here was simple, unassuming—and entirely unaware of the storm marching toward it.

On the seventh day, the Archfiends arrived at a mountain that pierced the very sky.

It rose like a colossal spear, its peak vanishing into the clouds. The ground itself seemed to tremble at its presence.

“This one,” Typhon declared, his deep voice rolling through the air.

All agreed. This towering monolith would become their seat of power—a fortress strong enough to withstand the armies of Heaven itself. And so they named it:

Mount Othrys.

After shrinking down to more manageable sizes—Cain’s idea, meant to avoid detection by the Watchers above—they began their ascent. Typhon, Tiamat, and Apophis used their combined strength to carve deep into the mountain’s peak. Claws, flame, and raw physical force tore through stone, creating halls and caverns large enough for their true selves to move freely. The mountain groaned beneath the work, but it held.

Cain, however, lingered near the mountain’s edge, standing at the precipice and staring down at the vast world spread beneath them. Tiny villages clustered along winding rivers; smoke curled upward from cooking fires; the sea shimmered like a polished bronze mirror. Curiosity struck him again—sharp, insistent.

What stories might exist among those humans? What knowledge? What secrets?

For now, he pushed the thoughts aside.

Inside the mountain, the Archfiends began to take shape in their chosen forms.

Typhon had assumed leadership the moment they entered the human world. In his smaller form, his body was a grotesque yet majestic mixture—his arms and legs composed of dozens of dark green serpents, constantly writhing as though they possessed wills of their own. His torso was vaguely humanoid, his beard thick and coarse, though his skin shared the serpents’ emerald hue. Vast demon wings unfolded from his back, shifting occasionally, especially when he drew near Tiamat. With a mere breath he could spit explosive fireballs, as casually as a man might spit into the dirt.

Tiamat, almost always near him, slithered forward in her smaller form. Cain had not expected her to resemble a woman so closely—her upper body was humanoid, her build comparable to Lilith’s including her bust, though she refused any form of covering.

“Why would I cover my body?” she had asked with a dismissive flick of her tail. “In my true form, clothing would tear apart before it served any purpose.”

Her lower body, however, was an enormous serpent tail, shimmering in iridescent blues and greens. What shocked Cain most was the visible roundness of her stomach—clear signs of pregnancy. Four months, he assumed. He hadn’t known. But anyone who observed her constant closeness to Typhon understood who the father was.

Fenris stood nearby, transitioning slowly into his human-like form. His features struck a delicate line between man and wolf—shaggy fur covered his arms, back, and legs; rows of sharp teeth filled his mouth; his eyes glowed like twin embers beneath his brow. He was unpredictable, feral, and yet fiercely loyal to Cain over any other.

The remaining Archfiends— Set, Apophis, and Quetzalcoatl— kept to their smaller forms as well. The interrogations at Mount Othrys revealed their shared origins: all three were Hellborn creations.

Set had been forged directly by Satan himself, an experiment to see whether beings more powerful than Imps could be crafted. The process had nearly drained the Dark King, and so Set was sent to Pride to strengthen himself by harvesting souls.

Quetzalcoatl had been shaped by Leviathan, a watery serpent meant to terrorize the depths before ascending into Pride, where intelligence and ferocity earned him the rank of Archfiend. He was the most cunning among them, his mind sharp enough to carve sigils into stone that even Cain struggled to fully comprehend.

Apophis, however… he was born from Leviathan’s own womb, sired by Satan’s essence. Raised by the Dark King, he became a monster driven by an insatiable hunger to destroy.

Deep within the hollowed heart of Mount Othrys, Quetzalcoatl finished carving a massive circle into the stone floor—etched with symbols older than any human tongue. As each rune began to glow one by one, the air crackled with raw infernal energy. When the final symbol ignited, a towering portal tore open.

Through it stood the Seven Sins themselves.

And behind them… an army. Imps, Succubi, Incubi, winged horrors, shapeless beasts, and more beings than Cain could have ever imagined surged forward, awaiting the command to invade.

Lucifer—tall, pale, and radiating Pride—stepped to the front.

“At last,” he purred, “the portal is opened. With Asmodeus’ crystals, we shall keep it stable until our legions cover every corner of this world. Each of you will claim territory and rule it. The world is vast—large enough to divide. I trust you will find a method of sharing that does not end in your destruction.”

The Sins stepped aside.

The first wave began to march.

Cain turned, ascending the mountain with the others to lead their forces.

The invasion had begun.

Six Months Later

Human resistance had grown fierce.

Villages united under chieftains. Primitive armies formed with spears tipped in bronze. Their determination was admirable—but useless. Each clash only entertained the Archfiends.

Fenris discovered something unique within himself during the battles—his blood and his very bite carried a plague. Under the light of the moon, those he infected twisted into monstrous shapes. Thus, the Greeks named him Lycaon, the first wolf-man.

Tiamat’s children had also been born. And grown. Rapidly.

The first was the Nemean Lion, its hide so invulnerable that no mortal blade could pierce it.

The second, the Hydra—a serpentine horror whose poisonous breath blanketed battlefields, and whose heads multiplied with every wound.

The third, the Caucasian Eagle, impossibly fast and durable, its talons tearing through fighters like paper.

The fourth was small—by comparison. A three-headed pup, runt of the litter. Typhon sought to dispose of it for its weakness, but Cain intervened with surprising protectiveness.

“I will raise him,” he had said simply.

They named him Cerberus.

Wherever Cain walked, the creature followed—loyal, eager, and already growing at an immense rate.

They had conquered several cities, reshaping early Greece into a land overshadowed by demonic rule. Yet Cain found his mind often wandering—to the stories whispered among the humans. Tales of gods. Titans. Wars in the sky.

Today, curiosity overtook him.

Cain walked beyond their borders, Cerberus trotting beside him. The pup—barely a month old—already reached Cain’s hip, each of his three heads snapping at insects, scenting the air, or yawning with oversized fangs.

They arrived at a new city—smaller than the others, but lively. People bustled about the marketplace, exchanging clay pots, bronze trinkets, and dyed cloth. Stalls filled the air with scents of spiced grain and roasted goat. Children played with carved wooden toys in the dusty streets.

But as Cain entered, dressed in a dark chiton stitched with symbols that unsettled mortal eyes, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations stopped. Eyes widened. The moment they noticed Cerberus—his unnatural height, the three snarling heads—panic spread like wildfire.

The crowd broke apart, scattering to the edges of the street.

Only one man remained.

He stood with his back to Cain, speaking to the rapidly fleeing crowd, asking why they ran. His voice carried clearly through the open space, warm and commanding.

Cain froze.

That voice…

A sound he had not heard in ages. Not since the day he was banished. The day his life was carved into a path he never chose.

Cain’s heart—rotted and hardened though it was—lurched painfully.

The man turned.

He looked stronger than Cain remembered—his body sculpted like the marble statues lining the temples, muscles carved as though by a divine hand. His once-brown eyes now glowed with radiant gold.

Cain’s eyes flared bright crimson. Cerberus stopped growling, lowering all three heads, sensing the tension that knotted Cain’s entire being.

The man’s gaze shook, recognition overtaking him with visible force.

One word left his mouth—soft, trembling, heavy with an emotion Cain could not name.

“Son…”

Chapter Text

The first father and first son stood in silent shock, separated by only a few paces yet thousands of years of guilt and grief. Cain’s stance shifted immediately, instinctively falling into a cautious circle around Adam — and Adam mirrored him without realizing. The air between them felt tight, as if creation itself held its breath.

Cerberus padded beside Cain, three heads lowered, hackles rising as the beast tried to determine whether Adam was threat or kin. But after a long sniff, the great dog lumbered toward Adam instead. The first man’s eyes widened at the sight of the three-headed guardian, but the ancient recognition of animal innocence softened his expression. Slowly Adam extended a hand.

One head sniffed him. Another growled. The third leaned into his palm.

Adam scratched each head in turn before speaking, voice trembling with surprise — and a sadness buried so deep Cain almost didn’t recognize it.

“Cain… when Abel ascended to Heaven, he told me of your demise. I mourned you. I truly did. But I was also glad that you’d finally found peace after so long wandering in misery.” The old man’s expression hardened. “But a part of me still cannot forgive you. Not after what you’ve done. So tell me: how did you escape Hell? And how did you arrive here?”

Cain’s jaw tightened. The question hit him like a stone. Memories of his descent and his rising in power flickered in the back of his mind — memories he had long tried to bury.

“How I escaped is none of your concern, Father.” Cain’s voice was low, steady. Dangerous. “But answer my question, and I will answer yours. Why did you leave Heaven’s bliss… to return here?”

Adam held his gaze for several long, painful seconds before sighing. His knees bent slowly — not out of weakness, but as if he were laying down a burden he had carried far too long. He sat on the earth, looking up at his son. Cain followed suit, sitting opposite him.

“If that is what it takes,” Adam said softly. “I descended because… there are creatures ravaging these lands. Not merely killing — but defiling. Torturing. Desecrating the innocent. These things violate Creation itself, Cain. They twist it.”

Cain blinked. His face went hard.

He had seen Hell’s monstrosities, yes… but Earth? Here? He’d seen imps and beasts rampaging around the fringes of towns, but not this. Not the horrors Adam described.

Adam continued, the lines around his eyes deepening.

“And Sera would not allow me to come alone. So she sent three of Heaven’s chosen with me. They should be here any—”

A sound split the air.

FWOOOM—CRACK.

Wind exploded behind Adam as three figures dropped from the sky, striking the ground with impact force that cratered the soil. They moved as one — fluid, disciplined — fanning out around Adam with weapons drawn.

A spear. A sword. A shepherd’s staff forged from a metal Cain did not recognize — but every instinct he had screamed that it was dangerous.

Cain rose slowly, body tense, eyes locking onto their faces.

He recognized two of them immediately.

Lute. Aclima.

The third…

Cain’s throat tightened.

Abel.

Adam jumped up, hands raised. “LUTE! ACLIMA! ABEL — WAIT, DON’T—!”

But his plea was drowned in motion.

The angels attacked.

Lute lunged first, her spear thrusting forward with divine precision. She aimed not to kill — but to incapacitate, to pin Cain through the ground.

Cain dropped backward onto his palms and kicked upward with brutal efficiency. His heel slammed into her sternum.

WHUMP.

Her breath shot out as she stumbled back, barely caught by Adam.

Aclima was already airborne, flipping mid-leap with her blade angled downward. Cain’s left arm dissolved into a black tendril that lashed into the earth beside him. The tendril snapped taut, slinging him sideways just as her sword came down.

CRACK.

The blade embedded into stone.

She cursed, trying to rip it free.

Cain rose fluidly, ready to counterstrike—

CLANG.

Something struck the top of his skull so hard it should have shattered bone. Instead, Abel’s shepherd’s staff trembled in his hands, vibrating violently as if it had struck an iron anvil.

Cain didn’t even look offended.

Abel, however, was sent rocketing into the ground.

His mark flared — and SLAM — he crashed deep enough to leave a crater, groaning.

Cain threw his arms out incredulously.

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU THREE ATTACKING ME?! I WAS TALKING TO OUR FATHER— HEY, WATCH IT YOU CRAZY BIT—”

Lute cut him off with another spear thrust. Cain sidestepped, grabbed her by the shoulder, and slammed a punch into her jaw.

THWACK.

She flew back — only to be caught again by Adam.

Aclima finally ripped her blade free and screamed across the battlefield:

“Because, brother — we just finished fighting a demonic eagle rampaging through a town! And a band of succubi and incubi trying to desecrate its people! AND—”

Lute, still reeling, spat venomously:

“AND FIRETOADS! GODS-FORSAKEN FIRETOADS! DISGUSTING LITTLE RED MONSTERS BREEDING LIKE PARASITES! ASSAULTING ANYTHING THAT MOVES — CHILDREN INCLUDED!”

Cain recoiled, genuine horror flashing across his face.

He had eaten demons like that before. Slowly.

“Okay… what the hell is a firetoad?” Cain muttered. “Because honestly that name sounds kinda good.”

Lute froze mid-struggle, a smug grin forming.

Aclima groaned.

“It’s what she calls those tiny red creatures,” Aclima said resignedly.

Cain burst out laughing. Hard.

The joke shouldn’t have been funny — but gods, he needed that moment of levity.

Even Abel, crawling out of his crater, groaned from the headache.

Cain exhaled and raised his hands.

“Before you three ‘interrupted,’ I was just telling Father: I’m an Archfiend now. Strong enough to walk out of Hell. And the Archfiends want to take over Earth. I was blinded by the promise of power, and by the thought of coming back home…”

He paused, eyes narrowing.

“But apparently they didn’t tell me everything. So here’s my offer.”

The siblings stiffened.

“A temporary alliance. I deal with the Archfiends — you deal with their monsters. But once I begin, you’ll need to be ready.”

He snapped his fingers.

Cerberus moved to his side.

Cain turned to go.

“I’ll start with the worst of them. Bring your higher-up tomorrow.”

And he left.

The mountain’s interior hit Cain like a physical blow.

The stink of blood. Rot. Semen. Burned flesh. Excrement. All mixed into something that forced bile into his throat.

Cain staggered.

Cerberus whined, all three heads trembling.

They descended deeper.

And then — the sounds.

Wet slaps. Bones cracking. Gurgling cries. Laughter mixed with shrieks.

Cain reached the main hall and cracked the door open.

He made it only two inches before vomiting.

Because inside…

Typhon and Tiamat were indulging in an orgy of desecration. Not lust — but domination, cruelty, and gluttony.

Human bodies — living and dead — were torn open and used as tools for twisted pleasure. Demonic minions thrust themselves into corpses already ripped in half. Children’s bodies were devoured whole, their souls screaming as they were pulled apart.

Organs hung like garlands. Blood slicked the stones. Flesh was shaped into obscene totems.

Tiamat’s five draconic heads each took part in a different grotesque act — one crushing a man in its jaws, another vomiting acid onto a screaming woman, another licking the bones clean.

Typhon laughed through a mouth stained red, holding a man by the spine as he violated the corpse.

Cain’s vision blurred.

His heart slammed inside his chest.

And something broke.

Black fractures spiderwebbed across Cain’s skin.

His breath turned cold.

A low hum — almost a chant — echoed from deep within his bones.

Cerberus backed away, whining.

Cain dropped to his knees as the black cracks widened, spilling tar-like ichor onto the floor. His limbs jerked as if pulled by invisible strings.

The humming became a voice.

Ancient. Deep. Primordial.

“First murderer… first sinner… rise.”

Cain’s eyes rolled back. The ichor bubbled up around him, swirling like a whirlpool.

Arms — dozens of arms — reached out from within the black pool. Some were skeletal. Some were freshly severed. Some bore marks of past victims.

They grabbed him.

Pulled.

Tore.

Not in pain — but in ritual.

His body dissolved into the pool.

Then a new form rose.

First the hands — merging into two great clawed monstrosities, each lined with smaller arms reaching outward like trapped souls.

Then the torso — massive, ape-like, dripping black ichor that fell as human-sized droplets before reabsorbing into its hide.

Then the head — the bleached white skull of the first Overlord he had ever slain. Its jaw hung open impossibly wide, glowing red from within.

Cain’s roar shook the mountain to its foundations.

And he charged.

He shattered the doors.

Minions shrieked, trying to take flight — but Cain’s legs became flowing black ooze, flooding the chamber. Anything touching the ground was dragged screaming beneath.

Flying demons darted upward — only to be intercepted by flailing tendrils that shot from Cain’s shoulders, wrenching them from the air and devouring them whole.

Typhon and Tiamat separated instantly.

“WHAT—WHAT IS THAT?” Typhon roared.

Tiamat’s heads hissed. “That is Cain.”

neither of the two saw Cain like this they just saw him as weak a monster to step upon but now here he was no longer merely a corrupted human or fallen creature, but an amorphous, towering abomination of bone, shadow, and liquid darkness. His white skull head turned with agonizing slowness, its hollow eyesockets boring into them like an executioner’s gaze.

Typhon struck first.

With a thunderous roar that tore clouds from the sky, he lunged forward. His colossal fist, the size of boulders, swung toward Cain’s bony jaw with enough force to shatter mountains. The impact detonated the air—an explosion that echoed down the slopes like rolling thunder.

But instead of connecting, Typhon was sent flying.

The moment his knuckles touched Cain’s shifting form, a counterforce slammed into him with nuclear violence. Typhon was ripped off his feet, flung upward like a ragdoll. His massive body punched straight through the peak of the mountain, sending molten rock, shattered trees, and boulders raining down around him as he was launched into the open sky.

Tiamat roared his name, wings snapping open as she shot after her husband—

—but something caught her.

A lash of black liquid coiled around her tail as though the shadows themselves had come alive. The force was impossible, even for her; she was yanked downward with bone-breaking speed. Her entire body smashed into the earth so hard that the stone floor cracked like glass. The impact created a crater that spread through the entire chamber, causing the summoning platform beneath them to split apart. For a moment the world fell, and so did she—descending into the summoning room below in a maelstrom of shattered rock and blasting dust.

Cain followed her like an avalanche.

As soon as she hit the lower chamber, Tiamat’s heads reacted. The white head inhaled and released a blizzard of razor-sharp frost. The blue head unleashed bolts of lightning that tore fissures through the walls. The red head’s fire burst forth in waves of incandescent destruction. The black head spat clouds of necrotic venom, while the green head vomited streams of sizzling acid that melted stone into bubbling sludge.

But Cain did not dodge.

He shifted.

Every attack hit his body, but it simply changed shape—liquefying, folding, reforming—bending away at angles no living creature could survive. Lightning flashed through him, molten fire coursed across him, poison burned through his shadowy form… but he moved like an ever-flowing nightmare. He did not resist the attacks—he flowed around them like water around stones.

Then he wrapped around her.

Tiamat screamed as Cain coiled up her body like a titanic serpent made of living darkness. His blackened form encircled her necks, her torso, her wings. Bones protruding from his body tightened around her scales like crushing vices. He squeezed—hard enough to make her ribs snap like brittle branches. The sound echoed through the chamber.

He was trying to break her.

Crush her.

Consume her.

A fate she had forced upon countless victims throughout her demonic reign.

But Tiamat was no mere monster. She was the Empress of Dragons, the mother of ruin, the apex of archfiend dragons. Her blue head acted before any of the others. With a roar that shook dust from the ceiling, it stabbed forward, plunging its horned snout deep into Cain’s liquid torso. Electricity erupted from its jaws—not a bolt, but a storm, a blasting detonation of pure lightning that illuminated the entire chamber with blinding blue-white light.

Cain screamed.

His scream was not human. It was ancient. Demonic. His body spasmed violently, the darkness flickering and destabilizing as the electric surge ripped through him. He tore free from her, the entire chamber rattling as his form splattered across the floor in thick, writhing pools.

Tiamat slammed her tail down with renewed fury.

Her blow fractured the stone so deeply that the ancient portal runes carved into the floor broke apart. Red Hellfire sputtered, flickered… and then extinguished entirely. The gateway to Hell, the one the archfiends had relied upon, collapsed into a dead circle of cracked stone.

As the last ember died, Tiamat’s five remaining heads glared at Cain. Fear flickered in her eyes—but defiance burned stronger.

“You… traitor…” she hissed, all voices combining into one hateful roar. “So this is your true form? You DISGUSTING turncoat! You dare betray us?! Turn your back on your own kind?! YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS—I SWEAR IT!”

Cain rose slowly.

His body reformed with eerie calmness, the skull head sliding into place atop an extending neck of dripping shadow. His eyesockets glowed with a baleful white flame. His voice, when he spoke, rolled through the chamber like a whisper woven out of nightmares.

“I paved the way for you,” he said. “I cast the first sin. I opened the door so the rest of you could become archfiends. And now you dare speak to me about betrayal?”

He leaned forward, the skull hovering inches from her faces.

“I will not allow you,” he whispered, “to use this world like your plaything. I was blinded before. I sought power. I sought home. But now… I see the truth.”

The skull split.

Its bone cracked apart into five pieces which spun around him before launching forward—five floating skeletal heads, each dripping black ooze as they streaked toward Tiamat with predatory hunger.

They attacked.

They bit into her five dragon heads, gnashing at scale and flesh. The chamber filled with shrieks—dragon shrieks loud enough to shake the mountain’s foundations.

Outside…

Typhon hit the ground with such force that trees splintered in half around the crater he made. The shockwave blasted through the forest, flattening everything for miles. He groaned as he rolled to his side, smoke rising from his magma-lined scales.

Only one creature—one entity—could have sent him flying like that.

Cain.

He staggered to his feet, gasping for air. The blow hadn’t broken bones, but it had shaken him so severely that even his titanic archfiend body struggled to stay upright.

Then he heard it.

Five screams.

Tiamat’s screams.

His blood turned to molten rage. He began clawing up the mountain with urgency, his massive claws digging trenches into the rock. Every second felt like an eternity. As he reached the shattered summit and peered down the hole leading to the summoning chamber below, he froze.

Horror washed over him.

Tiamat, his mighty queen, his fearsome bride, was dragging herself across the floor—except she wasn’t whole. Two of her heads were missing entirely. The green and white heads had been torn off, stumps of mangled flesh dripping onto the ground. Her red head had half of its face shredded away, and the black and blue heads screamed in agony.

And from below her—

—black liquid surged upward, swallowing everything.

Cain.

“NO!” Typhon roared, leaping forward.

But he was too late.

Tendrils of black ooze shot upward, wrapping around Tiamat’s necks and wings. She shrieked, thrashing violently. Typhon reached for her—claws outstretched, magma dripping from his fists—

—but she was pulled down.

Consumed.

Her screams cut off instantly as the liquid enveloped her completely. The mountain fell silent.

Typhon’s roar tore the sky apart.

He dove into the pit, into the swirling ocean of darkness.

“I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU—!!!”

His fists slammed into the black mass again and again. Every punch created shockwaves. Every blow shook stone and dust loose from the ceiling. But it was useless. Cain’s liquid form absorbed each strike with lazy inevitability, coiling up Typhon’s arms, spreading across his chest, crawling up his neck.

Typhon tried to pull free.

His power surged—magma splashing across the ooze. Fire erupted from his throat. He thrashed, roared, clawed—

—but the darkness climbed higher.

Typhon’s rage turned to fear.

His legs buckled.

His arms weakened.

He sank to his knees as Cain’s liquid form covered him, engulfing him. The last thing he saw was his massive hand reaching upward toward the light, fingers trembling…

…and then dissolving.

The liquid swallowed his head.

Silence.

Slowly, the black mass drained downwards, receding through the cracks and gaps of the broken mountain. It pulled itself together, condensing into a smaller and smaller form until—

—Cain stood alone at the center of the destroyed summoning chamber.

His eyes opened.

And he felt… different.

He lifted a hand—and behind him, onyx-black dragon wings unfurled with a burst of shadowy wind. They were enormous, powerful, each one formed from the remnants of what had once been Tiamat herself. They flexed naturally, obedient to his thoughts.

Cerberus emerged from the broken staircase above, the three heads sniffing the air cautiously. When he saw Cain, he bounded down, sliding over rubble and dust before sitting at Cain’s feet. All three heads looked up at their master expectantly.

Cain smiled weakly and scratched them behind their ears.

“That’s a good boy, Cerbie,” he murmured, voice soft despite his monstrous appearance. “I’m glad you three are safe.”

But then his expression darkened.

He reached into the memories of Tiamat and Typhon, their final moments imprinted on his soul through absorption.

He saw everything.

The archfiends spreading across the world.

The portal to Lucifer.

Their plans.

Their armies.

Cain’s jaw tightened.

He lifted Cerberus into his arms, spreading his new wings. With one powerful flap, he launched himself out of the mountain, soaring into the sky toward the abandoned town where he had last seen his family.

He had to tell them everything.

But before he could, a voice whispered in his mind.

Roos voice.

Not scolding.

Not angry.

But… proud.

“Oh, my darling boy,” she cooed. “You have embraced your powers far more than I ever expected. Track down the other archfiends… absorb them… grow stronger.”

Her voice darkened into a seductive whisper.

“Once you consume them all, you won’t just be an archfiend…”

Cain’s heart pounded.

“You will be the true King of Hell.”