Part 3 of the Side Story

Far off, tucked away in some other universe, there was the former tropical world of Jigriskss, now a sprawling planet wide ecumenopolis: a world of red metal spires rising miles into the sky. Here the reptilian Triassis built an Empire that thrived without ever having touched even a single mote of the supernatural. No divine. No magic. No myths. Only cold science and savage brutality.

Eight thousand years of recorded advancement had forged them into a species who used their spatial rift technology to chart other worlds across distant stars. And in their self-assured conviction of manifest destiny to spread their dominion, they perfected the art of war as they came across countless other civilizations.

But in time, their ruthless drive for expansion and control led them to a single conclusion: why bleed for victory when genetic engineering could sculpt the ideal foot soldier, and cybernetic grafts could weld obedience and martial prowess?

In the last two centuries alone, the Triassis subjugated dozens of species: breaking them, cloning them, augmenting them, and then sending the resulting legions ahead as disposable spearpoints in every further invasion.

So when experimental rift generators created a space-time anomaly - an unstable dimensional fold linking Jigriskss to a primitive world still using what appeared to be metal blades and wooden sticks - the Emperor's Council saw an easy opportunity: a new frontier with new resources.

Grand Elector Virkrikkins signed the order to invade before the briefing was even over. The preliminary scans showed that the natives didn’t even have electrical generators, let alone fusion based energy! They would have the entire world subjugated within a single year!  

Thus, the rather overweight Grand Elector readily sat behind his ostentatious desk, sifting through datapads with the bored superiority of someone who had no consequences to fear. His thick tail flicked irritably as he signed requisition forms and troop deployment orders.

But then he paused, his inner lid sliding over as he felt a dryness touch his eyes.

“…is it warm in here?” He muttered to himself.

He tapped his personal computer and the climate regulator immediately circled cool air through the room and across his scales. But still, a heat swelled, so slow, so subtle, that at first he thought he was imagining it.

Slowly, second by second, the warmth sharpened into discomfort until finally he felt a dizzying sense of nausea.

Swallowing the lump of distress in throat, the Grand Elector slammed a fist on his desk.

“Office!” he snapped. “The atompsheric systems are malfunctioning again-”

His office door hissed open to an aide whose expression carried a trace of vexation.

“Elector” the aide said with a light sniff of disdain. “If you bothered to check your alerts, you would know the entire tower is experiencing heating irregularities.”

Virkrikkins blinked at the blatant disrespect and immediately felt a hot burst of irritation. He snarled as he pointed a claw at the aide. “Who do you think you are? Watch your tone! I’ll have you thrown into the slave pits!”

The aide scoffed as he looked the Grand Elector up and down. “I struggle to imagine Your Excellency being able to throw anything,” he said snidely.

Virkrikkins’ throat scales flared in indignation. “You!” In a burst of rage, he seized the nearest datapad and hurled it with as much force as he could muster, and it struck the aide’s forehead with a sharp crack.

The younger Triassis staggered back with a cry of pain before quickly turning back around and viciously snarling, “You rough-scale cloaca-eater!”

And he then launched himself across the office and tackled the Grand Elector to the ground.

They grappled, limbs flailing and their claws scraped across each others scales. Virkrikkins gasped for air as the aide’s fingers locked around his throat. And as he felt the cartilage in his throat crunch, a wild burst of rage driven energy surged through him.

His hands desperately grasped for the nearest object, which happened to be a stone ornament that had fallen off his desk in the struggle, and he swung it with all his might. And a sickening thud echoed through the office as it slammed into the aide’s head!

As his attacker fell limply to the side, Virkrikkins swiftly turned himself and mounted his assailant and began driving the stone piece with both hands down, bashing it repeatedly against the aide’s skull.

He bludgeoned until bone split, until brain matter spilled across the floor and upon seeing it, he dove forth and like a feral animal, he ate it off the floor. Throwing his head back, he let out a high pitched, shrill scream, filled with primal rage and hate. All the while, his eyes glowing a deep, furious crimson.

And everywhere else across the planet Jigriskss, millions more of Triassis fell into acts of raw savagery.

------

Two Triassis bumped shoulders in a crowded transport corridor.

The first hissed.

The second sneered.

Then, without hesitation, the first tackled the second and tore into his throat with sharpened fangs, blood spraying across the walls in a boiling mist.

No one intervened.

For they were already too occupied with trying to kill one another.

------

In a residential tower, a Triassis female jolted from her nap. Her mate had closed the door too loudly.

She shrieked at him. He roared back.

Within seconds, they were locked in a vicious, clawed brawl, smashing through their living room, crashing through the balcony railing -

- and plummeting fifty stories to their deaths.

------

Ruval Phenex hovered over the gargantuan crater of what had been, presumably, a major city of the alien world they had pushed into.

But now it was gone, burned clean for dozens of miles. Giant towers sagged and collapsed into roiling lakes of molten metal. And he couldn’t sense a single iota of life around; everything had been scorched black.

Behind him was the dimensional rift they were supposed to have secured, but Lord Ichigo had done that with a single step into this now Satan-cursed world. The other five Ultimate-class Devils looked on, their faces blank and expressionless. Well, they were all ancient, this was probably not the first time they had seen a city destroyed. Hell, for those that fought in the Civil War, they had probably destroyed a city or two themselves.

And then there was his friend Tannin… there was more than one legend of a kingdom wiped off the map due to the rage of the former Dragon King.

As for Lord Ichigo himself, the Satan had left the planet and flown off somewhere into space. He had said something about taking down their aerial and orbital defenses, but Ruval still had that sneaking suspicion that military strikes were not the Demon Lord’s only goal .There was certainly some alternative, hidden agenda on the Demon's part.

But he pushed that partiuclar thought away, because even with Lord Ichigo hundreds of miles above, he could still sense the pervading evil of Satan winding its way through the planet. The Sin of Wrath radiated across the world, an invisible sea of malice blanketing the populace and driving them into a frenzied madness.

Ruval rolled his jaw as he turned grimly towards his peerage.

“Fortify your minds,” he ordered, his voice tight, “and keep your emotions in check. Don’t let Lord Ichigo’s aura ensnare you.”

“Your Highness Purson, young Lord Barbatos – we’ll leave guarding the fissure to you,” Jaqrin then said, and the two Devil Nobles responded by noding darkly. “As for the rest of us; Lord Tannin, you and your peerage shall take the north-western hemisphere. Young Lord Phenex, you shall have the south-western. Viscountess Contescu, you shall take the north-eastern and I, the south-western. Good hunting.”

With that, all four peerages broke off to unleash rampant destruction across the planet. And as Ruval felt the fire within him burn, and the primal and ancient demonic blood in him well up, his entire form rippled, and at once his arms became titanic pinions of flame with a wingspan over a mile wide.

The Demon Phenex flew immortal once more.  

------

The air still shimmered with heat.

Mal stepped out of the teleportation circle and immediately regretted breathing. Even through the calweave armor, the atmosphere felt acidic and sharp, as though her lungs were inhaling powdered glass instead of air. The ground beneath them, what had once been a grassy plain, was now a warped mosaic of obsidian sheets, molten cracks, and scorched slag.

This was the wake of a Demon Lord.

Sargeant Vrieg lifted one gauntleted hand. “Masks sealed. Shields active. Form up. We advance the remaining five kilometers on foot. Dimensional instability from the fissure prevents further teleportation.”

His tone was calm, but no one missed the tension beneath it.

Mal glanced at the horizon and winced beneath her helm. She could feel Lord Ichigo’s miasma simmering across the landscape, heavy and corrosive to everything it touched. It moved like a tide. A slow, inexorable tide.

Vrieg continued, “Bulk of the hostiles have been incinerated by the Prince, but there may still be stragglers. From the initial defensive intel, those mutants don’t go down easy. So, keep your eyes sharp.”

Mal swallowed dryly. “High Mage,” she asked quietly through the squad channel, “how long do you think it will take to stabilize the fissure?”

Acunda grunted as he began his march through the slag. “If our equations hold true and we work uninterrupted - two hours to stabilize the fissure, another half a day to seal it entirely.”

“Half a day?” Mal winced. “Out here?”

Acunda hummed sympathetically. “Which is why our first priority is erecting a containment field. Lord Ichigo’s miasma will keep distorting the breach unless we isolate it manually.”

Sergeant Vrieg added, “Your armor is rated well above the current contamination level. You’ll be fine.”

Mal huffed as her thoughts drifted towards a few history books she had read years ago. “I can only imagine how terrible the Underworld looked like back when original Demons were roaming freely.”

The High Mage hummed in agreement. “It’s why the current Satans are so remarkably popular. Their predecessors saw we Devils as little more than playthings and fodder. Lord Sirzechs and the others have actively reeled in their powers in consideration of our kind. They’ve even suppressed the other ancient Demons to keep them from harming we Devils.”

“Dear mum always says Lord Sirzechs is the best thing to happen to the Underworld,” Granfelt quipped.

“And she’s right!” Acunda said austerely.

The entire DDE team murmured agreement.

But at the same time, there was an audible crack from the distance.

Sergeant Vrieg held up a hand and they all stopped dead in their tracks. After a few seconds, he telepathically said to all of them. “Hostiles inbound, north by north-west. Defensive formation.”

Mal’s breath hitched as she and the other DDE members huddled toward the center. Vrieg’s squad closed around them immediately, shields raised, arcane weaves shifting and locking with practiced ease.

And the enemies came barging over a smoldering hill, and Mal stared dumbfounded because they were huge.

She’d estimate they were well over eight feet tall, strange looking hominids with charred gray flesh stretched over metal plating, half-melted into their bodies. Glowing optic implants flickered as their weapons, fused and misshapen, still managed to spit coherent beams of red light.

They roared an ear-piercing static-laced, distorted sound.

Vrieg’s soldiers slammed palms forward. A wall of overlapping magic circles erupted, harsh violet and bright silver patterns locking into place just as laser fire hammered against them.

The smell of burning ozone filled the air.

“Return fire!” Vrieg barked.

Spell after spell shot forward: compressed mana bursts, lightning tongues, telekinetic spears. The cyborgs staggered but did not fall. They absorbed damage like walking fortresses, advancing step by step.

One broke through the barrage sprinting straight toward them.

Mal stumbled back with a yelp as it closed in on them; heart in her throat…

But Sergeant Vrieg took a powerful step forward, sword flashing crimson through the haze. He cleaved the mutant cleanly in half, molten sparks scattering across the blackened ground, and then quickly fell back into formation.

The rest of the squad finished the other mutants in a hail of coordinated spellfire.

As magical smoke simmered into the sky, a silence settled across the field, broken only by Mal’s thundering heartbeat.

She inhaled sharply as she gathered herself, but only managed to stumble again. One of Vrieg’s soldiers caught her and steadied her with a firm hand.

“O–Oh. Thank you,” she said, face burning inside the helmet.

He nodded silently, before returning his attention back to the fallen cyborgs.

Vrieg scanned the horizon. “All clear, move out!”

It took them roughly forty minutes to trek the remaining distance towards the dimensional fissure; the benefits of Devil physiology, they didn’t tire as easily and had greater physical stamina than other species. And luckily, they encountered no other extradimensional invaders on their way, though there was a slight mishap at one point where the ground they were walking on began collapsing into a gaping chasm of magma.

She couldn't lie, she had been sorely tempted to push Vickle down to his doom at one point.

But when they finally did arrive at the fissure, Mal studied it with a mage’s eye. It was far more imposing up close and personal than any projection could make it out to be. After all it, it was a towering wound in time and space, crackling with pale-blue lightning and bleeding distortions into the air. Worse, the demonic miasma and foreign dimensional energies tangled above it like two storms fighting for dominance.

The DDE team immediately began erecting the containment field, runic totems slamming into the ground as complex arcs of arcane formulae built a dome of purplish light created a containment field around the dimensional breach.

Once that was done, High Mage Acunda exhaled sharply. “Sergeant Vrieg, our thanks to you and your team. Now it’s our turn to work.”

Vrieg grunted. “Don’t thank us yet. Our job’s not done until that headache is sealed and you’re all back in Forward Command, hopefully in one piece.”

Mal nodded absently as she listened to the two and magically scanned the fissure, uploading data to the data matrix that the DDE team shared. But so engrossed was she, she missed the rock jutting out of the ground and promptly tripped over it.

Thankfully, the same soldier caught her a second time.

Mortified, she stammered, “I-I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.”

He nodded again.

“Do watch your feet, Malenzia,” the High Mage sighed.

------

It was well into the evening then, though it was sometimes hard to tell given how the Underworld sky was more of a patchwork quilt instead of the simple system of 'sun up, sun down' on Earth.

But at this point, they had been working on the fissure for numerous hours, and honestly? The mental and magical exhaustion was starting to show. But at last, they managed to get the final spell weave in place and immediately sent a message to Forward Command.

As it were, Marquis Shax himself personally replied. “A message has been sent to the Vanguard. Awaiting their return before granting permission to close the breach.”

“Roger, waiting on standby, my Lord,” Sergeant Vrieg responded.

Meanwhile, from his chosen rock, Vickle sighed. “Can’t wait to go home.”

Mal nodded to herself. For once, she agreed with the twit.

About twenty minutes crawled by before the fissure flared, and out marched the Vanguard. The air physically thrummed with energy in the presence of six Ultimate-class Devils and their peerages. Though she immediately took note of their grim expressions, their mana still vibrating with the violence of battle.

But then Mal’s eyes went wide as she caught sight of the gargantuan Ultimate-class bringing up the rear, and the horde of dragons following behind him.

Is that Tannin?!

Even through her exhaustion she felt a hum of excitement. She grew up watching him in the Rating Games, he had been a childhood favorite of hers! She still had a plushie of the legendary Rating Games Ranker sitting on her bedside table in her apartment!

…would it be inappropriate if she went up to him and asked for an autograph?

But her intrusive thoughts were interrupted by a message from Lord Shax. “Vanguard’s return confirmed. You have permission to seal the breach, High Mage.”

“Beginning sealing,” her boss immediately replied, leading to a collective sigh of relief from all of them. But as the complex weave of magics was a activated, and the fissure flared to life one last time as it slowly began to knight back together, Mal had one last errant thought

“Wait, where’s Lord Ichigo?” she asked aloud.

A voice behind her answered: “I’m right here.”

Her damn heart nearly burst out her chest. And judging by the choking sounds, hers hadn’t been the only one.

The Crown Prince stood there as cool as one can be; one hand comfortably in the pocket of his jeans while the other holding a can of soda. A far cry from the apocalyptic presence she had seen reduce several square kilometers to a volcanic wasteland.

Immediately, they all went to their knees. But Lord Ichigo waved them off and Mal felt invisible hands pull her back up to her feet. Scary…

“Thanks for your hard work, we appreciate it,” Lord Ichigo said warmly. “I’ll ensure you’re all duly compensated. You’ve done exceptionally well.”

Mal could only stare dumb, but after his words registered, she felt a strong stirring of pride. She garnered the personal thanks of a Satan!

And as she took in the sight of the walking apocalypse, Mal realized he didn’t actually look as terrifying as his power made him out to be. Not with that boyish grin and warm brown eyes.

Low key kind of cute, even if he wasn’t her type.

But before anyone could say anything in response, Lord Ichigo waved his hand and the colors of the world swirled and Mal felt the contents of yesterday’s dinner threatening to go the wrong way through her digestive track. And just like that, their entire group was suddenly back inside Forward Command.

Mass teleportation without any magical circles, prep time, incantations or enchanted items? She took it back, he was disgustingly terrifying.

After several more hours, and a much-needed shower, Mal found herself back in her office robes and in the command center with Lord Shax again. One thorough debriefing by Sergeant Vrieg and High Mage Acunda later, Marquis Shax revealed that Lord Ichigo had rewarded all of them with a tax-free bonus equal to three years’ worth of their respective salaries.

Three years of pay as a bonus?! And it was tax-free?! She was rich! She was upper-middle class now! Mal took back her take back, Lord Ichigo was the greatest!

Hail Satan!

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A/N: And with that, this not so little side story is at an end. We are now back to our regular scheduled programming. See you next week.