Astaroth: I Was Only Jesting

The black fog stopped on the seventh step, coalescing into the vague outline of a human figure. Its features were impossible to make out; only the position of its mouth was faintly visible.

“Well, what a grand display.”

Baal’s voice was no different from when it had spoken inside Chen Guan’s mind—lazy and languid, like it had just woken up.

“This place wasn’t nearly this pretty the last time I came. Did you renovate?”

Astaroth ignored the remark, making no effort to hide its arrogance. “Get out of my territory.”

“Don’t be in such a hurry.”

Baal tilted its indistinct head and lifted one foot, continuing up the stairs.

“That little stunt you pulled in the human world caused quite a commotion. A six-winged projection, a heart vessel, a blood-red magic circle—the whole set. Classic.”

Baal spoke with a grin. The thought of what it was about to do had it practically giddy with excitement.

Two of Astaroth’s six wings unfolded, their radiance enveloping the throne. “Are you teaching me how to do my job?”

“Of course not. Lord Bael has no time for that.”

“Then why are you here?”

Baal reached the twelfth step, halfway to the raised platform, and stopped.

“To take a look at you.”

“At me?”

“Mm. To see what you look like now.”

Two of Astaroth’s three eyes narrowed. The remaining one fixed on Baal as the killing intent in its gaze began to solidify.

“You have no right to speak to me in that tone, Baal. Your fragments are scattered throughout the human world, while your true body is sealed at the very bottom. You can’t even form a complete body now.”

It rose from the throne. All six wings spread wide, the eyes upon them lighting up one after another. Under the pressure, the dome of Angel City began to tremble.

“You came into my territory because you think I wouldn’t dare shatter this fragment of yours?”

The outline of Baal’s head tilted to one side.

“Why don’t you try?”

Faced with the provocation, Astaroth raised a hand. A pillar of white light shot from its fingertips and pierced through Baal’s torso.

The black fog exploded apart.

Astaroth lowered its hand. The pillar of light vanished, leaving the staircase empty.

“Pathetic.”

It turned, preparing to sit back down on the throne.

“Hee-hee.”

The laughter came from behind.

Astaroth froze in mid-motion.

The black fog that had been blasted apart was gathering once more on the long staircase. It re-formed ten times faster than it had been destroyed, and the human outline emerged again—clearer than before.

Its features appeared.

It was the face of a young man, his brows and eyes curved in amusement, the corners of his mouth stretched into an exaggerated arc. His smile held the appreciation of a hunter watching his prey step into a trap.

“Astaroth.”

When Baal spoke, its tone was completely different from before. The lazy drawl was gone, replaced by a form of absolute delight.

“You didn’t actually think I was painstakingly gathering fragments, did you?”

A tremor ran through Astaroth’s six wings.

“That kind of story is only good enough to fool children.”

Baal took a step forward. The instant its foot touched the bone staircase, spiderweb cracks spread across the step, racing wildly in both directions until they reached the base of Angel City’s walls.

“You believed it?”

Another step.

The twelve inverted spires hanging from the dome of Angel City trembled in unison. Debris began to flake from the bases of two of them.

“You actually believed it!”

Baal’s laughter erupted, loud enough to tear the dome from the sky.

“Hahahahahaha!”

The laughter passed through every inch of Angel City, drilling into the gaps between every piece of bone and stone.

The walls were laughing.

The floor was laughing.

The dome was laughing.

The entire city resonated, producing a terrifying laughter from every direction. The sound itself formed a vast echo, and dust began raining down in rustling clouds.

Then the pressure arrived.

That power seeped out from beneath Baal’s feet, from the cracks in the bone staircase, from between the molecules in the air, from the gaps between rays of light, from the deepest laws underlying this space itself.

It had no shape, no color, no temperature.

It was simply there.

As if the darkness that had existed before the birth of the universe had suddenly opened its eyes.

Baal was clearly standing there alone, yet its laughter, its presence—everything that belonged to it—came from all directions.

All twelve of Astaroth’s eyes opened as wide as they could.

Under that force, its six wings began to twist. Every feather curled inward, withering as though consumed by invisible flames.

The throne shattered.

The condensed stardust collapsed from within and was ground into powder.

“This is impossible!”

For the first time, fear entered Astaroth’s voice.

“Your true body is sealed at the bottom level. Your power has been divided by the Seven Chains, and now you’re even—”

“Exactly.”

Baal answered with a beaming smile.

“Then how do you still have this level of power?”

Baal finished the question for it, tilting its head with an almost offensively innocent expression.

“That’s a good question. Give Lord Bael a moment to think of an answer.”

It tapped one finger against its temple.

“I’ve got it.”

“Hee-hee. I’m not telling you.”

Lord Bael wasn’t about to bicker with a mere projection online. Hee-hee—if you want the real thing, come face me offline.

Astaroth’s body shook violently. The radiance of its six wings flickered, while the barrier surrounding Angel City was peeled away layer by layer by that invisible force.

It wanted to run.

The instant its feet left the ground, space sealed shut.

Up and down, left and right, front and back—every direction was blocked. The boundaries of Angel City folded under Baal’s will into a sealed box.

“What’s the hurry?”

Baal’s footsteps rang out on the staircase, one after another.

“It’s been a long time since we last met. Why don’t we reminisce a little?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do?”

Baal’s smile faded slightly, and a trace of nostalgia crept into its voice.

“I’d almost forgotten how much I missed watching a bunch of idiots like you tremble before me.”

It raised one finger, pointing at Astaroth’s crumbling phantom.

“The last time I felt this way was back in the age before heroes.”

“No, Baal, wait—”

“Wait for what?”

Baal’s finger moved forward another inch.

Flames burst from its fingertip.

They were not flames of the human world, nor flames of the demon realm—not even flames that should exist under any known set of rules.

They were black, yet brighter than any source of light. They illuminated every corner of Angel City even as they set those very corners ablaze.

The dome caught fire.

The walls caught fire.

The bone staircase caught fire.

Astaroth’s scream was swallowed by the flames. The feathers on its six wings turned to ash one by one, while the twelve eyes went out in succession amid the black fire.

Its form twisted and shrank within the flames, changing from the outline of a god into a tiny, huddled point of light.

Baal withdrew its finger and blew on a nonexistent wisp of smoke.

“Don’t worry. This won’t kill you.”

It crouched down and looked at the trembling point of light on the ground. Of course Baal had no intention of killing Astaroth. It could do so with a casual gesture, but Lord Bael wasn’t foolish enough to destroy a useful asset.

“Lord Bael is only here to deliver a message.”

The point of light gave no response.

Baal extended its index finger and lightly poked the glowing speck.

“My contractor is an interesting little fellow. But your people laid hands on him.”

The point of light trembled even more violently.

“Lord Bael may not usually concern himself with such matters, but that boy is, after all, a toy Lord Bael has taken a liking to.”

He rose to his feet and brushed at the nonexistent dust on his clothes. “Don’t stick your hand in again, Astaroth.”

“Otherwise, next time Lord Bael may burn more than just your city.”

Baal had never intended to settle the matter with a single stroke. In his eyes, there was nothing more to the squabbling between his chosen ones than children at play. Let them do as they pleased.

But Astaroth, an adult, stepping into the fray was not something Lord Bael wanted to see.

As the dark mist dispersed, Baal’s figure vanished from Angel City.