Demonic Devourer's Development

Chapter 231: THE MASTER OF SIN. Mother hen

Chapter 231: THE MASTER OF SIN. Mother hen

Ask a fanatic, get your response… But this was a sort of response I never expected to get. Apparently, Devourer had many more secrets than all Hell knew! Though, as shocking as they were, I imagine an average demon would’ve had only one amount of care for them—zero.

Myself? Well, I only knew about the First God from Bishop’s tales. But now I realised why Devourer mentioned him earlier, in Hell. Either way—my goals and my promised rewards didn’t change from what I heard, but I understood better why these cultists were so faithful. A prophecy, no less.

After that lecture was over, I finally got to asking about things I needed to know much more about. To be more precise—the exact resources I got in hand, as well as the threats that pursued them. Bishop told me plenty about the structure of his cult, spread in many smaller groups in several major cities, as well as their material resources. These, I understood much less about—the valuables of the mortal realm made little sense to me.

Gold, for example. It was so soft, any weapon made from it would bend after the first strike! At best, it looked pretty—but to make it your currency? Same went with silver. Even bronze and copper… But the mortal realm was a strange place for me, and I knew to accept its customs, work them into my mindset, and use them like any other piece of information in my hands.

Finally, came the time to find out the cult’s combat effectiveness… which is where things were the worst.

“You wish to say, Bishop, that these are your best fighters? All of them. Only three?” I looked at the people gathered in the room. Yvenna sent me a glare back. So did the shorter kid, though his was more petulant. The taller kid just appeared to be confused. “I will admit, they are decent enough—compared with what seems to be the staple here. But only three?”

Bishop bowed his head in shame. “There are more, my lord… but they are far away, and few. One adventurer in the capital, one that just trained with the sword with him, another…” he named a few more cities and people, but there was fewer than fingers on both my hands—and I had a full set.

“…as for Gi and Hector, they are some of our best fighters, it is true—but please, my lord, do not send them into battle. They are too young for this and still have much to learn. They fought last night out of desperation, not because they should.”

“Don’t listen to him!” the taller kid jumped up. “Please, lord demon. We can do everything men do, so we can fight with Yvenna!”

“Hector! Don’t speak up like that!” Bishop reproached.

“He’s right, Bishop.” The other, who must’ve been Gi, spoke as well. I noticed by now that he didn’t look at all like other humans I’ve met—deathly pale, with a skin through which I could see all his veins. He looked like a demon from the icy Cocytus, except even though the lines of his face were hard, his body was too soft.

I shook my head. “She isn’t a man, and you… I doubt you can, for example, reach as high as she can. In fight, or otherwise. But… I’m not in a position to complain.”

“Forget about them!” Yvenna stepped forward, drawing a decisive line in the air with her hand. “I can kick everyone’s ass on my own. Got it? Don’t you drag them into this even more, Sin or whatsyourname. They are mine to beat, Voren said so!”

I inclined my head to the side and gestured for Bishop to back off and not interfere. “Forgive me, Yvenna. It was not my intention to encroach on your right of ownership, especially given by Devourer himself. If they are your personal slaves, I won’t insist on ordering them personally, but we are working for the greater goal, one that requires every resource of everyone under Devourer’s command, including you.”

“My what?” Yvenna growled, making another step. Now we were only divided by the stone table, on which she put her hands.

I realised I must’ve made a social mishap of some kind, because this question sounded like the kind that gave the target of it one last chance to apologise and take their words back, instead of one that was made to clear any confusions. Everyone else’s wide-eyed faces were a telling sign as well.

I opened my mouth and paused, for once not knowing what to say. Yvenna looked like a closed pot of boiling water, ready to explode in a cloud of steam from the smallest poke, and what could trigger the madwoman was an even bigger mystery to me now than a second ago.

Not that I couldn’t fight her—but to fight her without even knowing why? That’d be laughable!

It was Gi who broke the silence first. “We are NOT her slaves, or anyone’s!” he declared, stepping forward, with an expression no less threatening than Yvenna’s. “Take your words back.”

Such a subtle change in the air in the room, yet so miraculous. Gi’s anger, much cooler and more restrained, forced Yvenna to step back herself a little, and gave me just the opportunity to clear the things that were muddled so much.

“If you are not slaves, then who are you that she has the right to beat you?” I asked him, but it was Hector who answered.

The boy came up to the table with a grim grin. “We are her students, that’s who. And beating us is the only way she teache—”

The rest of his words were cut off when Yvenna grabbed him by the collar, at the same time mirroring the action with another hand and Gi. “So what? Don’t tell me you didn’t learn, pipsqueaks? You’ve showed these assholes hell, so it works, so I will just beat you more until you’ll get real fighters!”