In the dark corners of the vampire territory, two vampires were holding guard to an old fort-like mansion made of bricks. The mansion was in the centre of the territory, making it the hardest place to travel to for those who weren’t vampires, heavily guarded but in secret. They wanted the place to look abandoned for many reasons. A vampire was no match for a demigod unless they had the upper hand, the hand of stealth. The Demigods knew not to trespass lightly but there were always some who wanted to test their metal.
It was almost sundown. The sky had turned a beautiful peachy orange and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Many would have enjoyed the weather but it was wartime and everyone was still stressed not having heard any news for two months. It was silent in Empyrean, everyone kept to themselves for the time being. Only the vampires seemed to know what was going on.
“He says more of us need to get to Europa.” said one short vampire to another bulkier and taller. “The hell they need more men for? He wants to overwhelm them?” “He’s been planning this since the beginning of time Ray.” the big vampire replied. “Sheesh, it’s still overkill.” Ray stretched his worn-out grey shirt down and dusted off dirt from his knees. Both of them had recently traded watchpoints with another pair of vampires who wanted the rooftops. Ray had miscalculated the direct drop down and ended up falling on his knees. He was still irritated because of it. “It can’t still hurt.” his friend said as Ray massaged his knee. “Nah, it’s healed. It’s just that the feeling is still there you know? What the hell are you doing Arty?” “What?” Arty spit out a chunk of his thumbnail and began biting off another. “That’s disgusting. You could have all sorts of shit under your nail.” “Oh I’m sorry, but I don’t travel with a pair of nail clippers. Do you?” “So do it later.” “No,” Arty replied bluntly. “It irritates me now so they have to go now.” “You’re lucky you’re a vampire. All that bacteria can’t kill you.” “I have never heard of someone dying from nail shit.” “Because sooner or later people stop before it’s too late. You’re four hundred and thirty-six years old and still doing it.” “You know what the real reason as to why I’m doing it?” Arty asked honestly. “What?” “I look pathetic holding nail clippers. Oh look at me and my little clippers clipping off my nails!” he danced mockingly like an infant. “I look bad.” “Wow, you’re unbelievable. Cole is bigger than you and I don’t see him biting his nails off.” “He uses scissors.” Arty spit out another chunk of the nail to Ray’s disgust. “Then use scissors!” “Listen, I’m bad with blades ok? I start cutting myself.” “So you have a phobia?” “I once cut the skin under the nail. After that, I’ve never used a blade again. I start to cringe.” “You’re a fucking vampire.” “Have you ever had your nail lifted… off its place?” Ray shivered at the thought. “Ok ok, you convinced me.” “Yeah, thought so. Now let me bite off my nails in peace.” “Can you at least spit somewhere else?” “What are you gonna do?” “I’m gonna…” Something rustled around the corner and Ray immediately put his finger to his lips, indicating Arty to be quiet. “Maybe it was the wind?” “You can’t get wind in a highly compacted area like this dumbass.” Ray backed up to the brick wall and slowly walked around the corner. “See anything?” asked Arty. There was no reply or sound from Ray.
The tall vampire hulked over to the side and poked his head out. Ray was against the wall with his hands flailing in front of him, struggling for air. “Ray? What’s going on?” His friend didn’t answer as he struggled for dear life. Ray suddenly gasped for air as if whatever was holding him let go. “What the hell man?” “Something is…” Ray was suddenly forced back against the wall and pushed a few inches upwards, feet dangling helplessly. Arty went to his aid but something invisible stopped him and shoved him away. “What the fuck?” He quickly got back up on his feet, trying to figure out what to do. Ray tried to resist whatever had hold of him. To Arty’s surprise, he managed as he landed back on the ground but was impulsively shoved right back against the wall a third time. Before Arty could do anything Ray’s face violently pulled inwards, spraying blood in every direction. The vampire froze in his place out of fear and disgust. Something suddenly caught his attention however as the blood spatter had made contact with the invisible being. They moved in a rigid fashion. Anger surged through the vampire as he now had the means to see his enemy. He charged towards its general location but before he reached the being it presented itself, uncloaking its invisibility.
What he saw struck him with terror as a man in a long and dark hooded trench coat with high collars and a mask crudely made of what looked like iron stood in front of him, his arm deep inside Ray’s skull. The mask sent chills down Arty’s spine. The creator had definitely given some time and thought in coming up with a menacing design but it wasn’t the sole reason for the chills. For the past month, the vampires had been plagued by random killings. At first, they thought of it as an act of war from the demigods but they too were plagued by it somehow. After a week there were rumours of a masked man, fitting the very description of the one in front of Arty, who killed anyone he came across. No one knew who he was or what was on his agenda. All anyone ever knew was of his vast amount of powers. The man was a demigod for sure but he was no friend of one. He was like a bad omen, seeking whoever was cursed.
Vampires were warned and demigods on alert for this man. There had never been such an incident since the creation of Empyrean. The council had made sure of it. No one ever stepped out of line for the reason that those in council were the most powerful of them all. A mere accident with the law meant immediate execution. It was a nation that forced peace. Empyrean, however, has been on the brink of civil war for two months, neither side taking action due to the war in Europa. Both of their armies were far from home and awaiting news from their leaders. Because of this global situation, no one could quite understand the man in the mask… other than to flee when in his presence.
The man in the mask slowly turned to face the vampire. Every hair follicle Arty had stood up. He was an old vampire but the masked man had simply crushed his friend’s head who was several centuries old and the older they were the more powerful. “Death awaits you.” the masked man fiercely whispered as he began to dislodge his fist from the brain of the dead vampire. Arty bolted into the fort-like mansion. The mansion had a giant entrance with doors made of wood and iron. The vampire pushed them open and punched a giant red button only a few meters away. The entire mansion, walls tiled with wood and floors with parquet, turned crimson in a state of alarm. The mansion had five floors up but also three floors down which had a hidden entrance behind a particular bookshelf in a small library. By switching around the placing of two books the entire bookshelf swung around, revealing a shady flight of stairs as the entire entrance was moulded out of cement.
The entire mansion was banging with heavy footsteps running from every corner of the building to the first floor. Arty ran past offices and past the secret lounge on the second floor down until he reached the private quarters of one of the most dangerous men on earth. The room, although underground, was covered with red, silk curtains, with one end of the room housing a large television placed in front of black suede sofas. A man sat in the middle, elbows placed on his knees and face buried deep within his hands. He was bald but not from choice. Every inch of his skin was burnt, almost resembling melted cheese. He dug his nails deep into the back of his head and clawed up and then down to his cheeks in anger. Arty rested against the entrance wall and tried to catch his breath but wasn’t due to fatigue. He had been sweating heavily since he saw the masked man. His body temperature had risen dearly.
“What is the matter?” the man on the couch asked with a hoarse voice. “He’s finally found us,” said Arty, unsure how his superior would react. “Who?” the man asked calmly. “The masked man!” “What was he like?” “What??” blurted the now puzzled vampire. “He is a Demigod?” “Yes sir.” “What did you see in him?” “What did I see?” In just a split second the man on the couch was suddenly face to face with Arty, staring at him with bloodshot eyes, his face full of scars older than every vampire put together. “WHAT DID YOU SEE!?” he roared, grabbing Arty around his neck with disgustingly slim hands. “Do the rumours give him justice? Are the stories true? Should the man be feared?” asked the man in quick succession. The vampire shivered. “I don’t...” The man widened his gaze, scaring Arty for a better response. “I believe so. Yes.” “Did he speak?” “Yes.” “WHAT DID HE SAY?” The man’s clutch around Arty’s neck tightened. “Death awaits you.” Arty stared at the man holding his life in his hands but with a blink, the man swiftly took his place back on the couch. “What should we do?” he asked, gently stroking his neck. “A man who wears a mask is a man who needs to hide his identity, that is obvious, but the mask represents many things. A man who speaks and acts with theatrics is a man one should not take lightly. He is confident in what he does and he has proved his skill. This man does not boast nor threaten without insurance, a man who makes his own luck.” “Couldn’t you defeat him?” asked Arty, unsure whether it was a wise question. “You do not question me.” “Apologies. You are a legend sir. This man shouldn’t be a match for you.” There was no reply as the man resumed clawing his hairless head. Arty took one last look as he closed the door to the room and slowly walked up the stairs. A burst of manic laughter erupted from within the room that sent chills down his spine. A mad man down below and an all-powerful man up above.
Horrible screams filled the halls of the brick mansion. The grounds were set aflame, vampires burned at the stake and limbs scattered across the parquet. The man lay nude comfortably on his suede sofa, cherishing its touch, as he listened to the sounds of his men brutally die in vain. The building suddenly trembled and shook as the top floor collapsed, merging with the fourth floor. The man lay staring at the ceiling, imagining the battle above as the fourth floor suddenly collapsed as well. He could easily turn on the screen and watch from the many cameras installed in every corner but he preferred it this way. The sounds reminded him of home when everything was simpler. Now there were politics in the way and patience to be had. He wasn’t a very patient man but for this one occasion, he made an excuse. The cries of the fallen may have been his men but his broken soul welcomed them. He could tell exactly when someone’s willpower would break and start begging for his life.
He began to calculate the masked man’s arrival. There were about ten vampires on each floor, the first floor however accommodating five to ten extra depending on the time of day. The specifics of the masked man’s powers were unknown although what he did know was that the man preferred fire, the one thing he liked about the man even though fire corrupted his physical body, rendering it to an abysmal creation of the void known as Hell. Several minutes went by and a calm silence filled the mansion. He grinned, imagining the masked man to wonder where the secret entrance lay. Soon enough however a large explosion tore in towards the cemented flight of stairs. It took a minute before any footsteps could be heard. The man sat back upright and scratched away dried skin from his chest. The skin stuck underneath his nails to his delight as he began to suck them out. There was wine on a coffee table beside him as he grabbed the entire bottle and began to down the whole thing. The door behind him swung open, the smell of smoke and ash following the guest. “I am surprised.” said the man in the mask. “I thought you’d manage to sneak out of here.” “Sneak out?” hissed the bald man in reply. “I’m not someone that would easily run from a fight.” “You say that as if I didn’t just slaughter your men upstairs.” “I fight on my own terms. I do not fight with other filth.” “So you have come to terms with how repulsive and revolting you are.” “Do you understand the force of gravity you have created by simply stepping into my private chambers? No one simply walks into my domain!” The man turned to face the masked man but he was not there. “Show yourself!” “I’d rather not see your face demon!” came the voice from behind him. The man blindly slashed around, aiming to strike him, yet hit nothing but air. “You move fast, do you? I, too, move fast! I am the flame in the darkness! I am the right hand of the Devil! I brought down Heaven with my torch! With my breath, the flames of Hell spread across the eternal lands of holy! I am an Archdemon! I am Xaphan!” “Then why do you reek of fear?” A chain whipped from across the room with a hook attached to the end. Xaphan swiftly evaded the attack and began to search the room, the masked man still not in sight. “SHOW YOURSELF!” Darkness suddenly filled the room. “You think you scare me? I have seen the depths of Hell. Your nightmares are nothing compared to the land of torment!” “I do not seek to recreate Hell. I plan to simply send you back.” Xaphan felt a hand clutch his ribs and before he realised the left side of his rib-cage was torn open. He screamed in pain, spitting blood in every direction, and hit the floor. His body was shivering unstably. The masked man grabbed him in the dark by his foot and twist it. “STOP!” The foot kept twisting, constantly sending jolts of pain until at last the foot was ripped off. Xaphan roared at the top of his lungs. He could hear one of the curtains being torn down and immediately stuffed into his mouth followed by a kick to the nose. Xaphan blacked out but the masked man woke him soon enough after he had chained him to the wall.
There was finally some light in the room but it was coming from a strange place. The end of the curtain was on fire and the other end was still placed in his mouth. A figure walked behind the flame. “Is this what Hell is like demon?” Xaphan couldn’t reply but screamed instead into the curtain. He tried to break free of the chains but they somehow resisted his immense power. “Do you feel helpless? Afraid? Do you remember all the innocents you murdered? All the souls you used?” The masked man directed an open hand towards the fire and shot flames from his palm. “Look into my eyes Xaphan. Do you know who I am?” He began to laugh, almost as manically as the demon. The flames started to crawl up towards Xaphan who tried to shake off the curtain from his mouth. “Since you are too busy to answer, allow me to introduce myself.”
The masked man slowly walked around the room and began to set aflame each curtain. “I am a Demigod. I seek out the evil in these lands and claim their names.” The drapes burned instantly at his touch. “I kill vampires for the filth they are to this world. I vanquish the demigods who use their powers for selfish gains. I destroy those who disrupt the peace that was once created in Empyrean. I annihilate territories claimed by those who rebel against the law. I exterminate creations that are unnatural. And I do all this as I gain their powers, forever adding them to my arsenal, preparing myself for a war on the other side of the planet, seeking justice and retribution.” The masked man finally came around to Xaphan and patted his bald head. He tilted his head as he studied the scars on the Archdemon's body. Xaphan eyed him back, trying to see the face behind the mask. The man viciously grabbed hold of his neck and yanked him close. “I am the tormentor! The punisher! The embodiment of a prime Demigod! I am Sovereign for my capabilities know no bounds! I reach beyond the vertex of power! And know this demon… I know no mercy for the foul!” The masked man heaved Xaphan by the throat across the room, splitting his body from his arms and legs that were bound to the wall. He rolled across the room and the flaming curtain followed him, wrapping itself around his body, slowly engulfing him in flames. “I know not the difference between a vampire from an Archdemon! Those who stand before me are all equal!” roared Sovereign. The demon squirmed in pain, thrusting itself around with whatever limb it still had. Sovereign grabbed the curtain and pulled it out of Xaphan’s mouth and grabbed him around the neck with his hands. “So tell me demon, who do you see behind this mask?” “A man! Lucifer will destroy you!” Sovereign inserted his hand into the demon's mouth and grabbed his tongue. “The Devil is nothing but a child! A prisoner of a mental facility. The only difference between Lucifer and I is that he looked into the face of evil and he blinked.” Sovereign tore Xaphan’s tongue, killing the demon, and looked at the vile muscle in his hands. “I looked into the face of Lucifer… and smiled.”
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