Maou Razonica
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Chapter 149: Deal With The Devil.
🕑 Added 2025-02-12 14:36:17 +0000 UTCDOCS: https://docs.google.com/document/d/103_wrZSSDAh_-usrZ0CCfiPXrGpxC8frFh5MkrRQJ0w/edit?usp=drive_link
Ahhhhh! This took longer to write than I thought. But the next chapter is here! This is a heavy arc, understandably so. Keep that in mind btw. All the content warnings for this chapter. Maybe check the docs. I've recently updated them for this arc.
Thank you for your continued support, and please, enjoy the show!
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I cracked my eyes open when I felt an unpleasantly familiar presence approach. Zazarian’s eyes met my own, and I stared back. A deeply discomforting silence stretched between us, and I did nothing to fill it. I only allowed that void to grow larger and larger.
He was the first to break.
“You keep making problems. A templar captain. Two templar captains.”
“An amazing feat. What you call a problem, I see as a solution.”
“But it has solved nothing. You are still here, stuck in a cell, and you will continue to suffer until you learn to cooperate.”
I did not answer. I allowed the silence to stretch on again.
Zazarian placed a box on the ground. “If you really must force us all to go through this tedium, then I shall.” The container opened, and a variety of tools were revealed within. From saws, to hammers, clippers, and an unreasonable amount of blades.
I did not react. I was not intimidated.
“The one thing that has proved a massive problem with you are your horns. Attempts to put you through an identification ritual have failed, but I could easily guess what those are for. Magical focuses. Somehow… for two elements. And you’re able to do rituals of your own without the usual steps? I do wonder, will it explode like your arm did if I cut it off?”
I paused. My anger built, and the pressure threatened to finally burst. This motherfucker wished to take horns? The pride and joy of a demon? Something that I had worked and bled for, in this life and the one that came before. It was mine and mine alone. And he dared try to take that from me!?
I wanted to be rid of these chains right here and now and stick two blades up his skull so that he may have a shred of the glory of having horns for once in his life, at the fucking end.
And then I saw him smirking upon my face. My expression. I had given him exactly the reaction he wanted. That was so stupid. I wanted to punch myself in the head, but I couldn’t even do that. My chains of herokane only rattled.
I held my tongue despite all the insults I wished to shout, to not worsen the situation any further.
“Well? We can stop this now if you just do what we need.”
I did not give in to those thoughts, I didn’t even let it show on my face, no matter how angry they did make me. Angry enough to jump into molten lave if it meant I could take them with me.
I was an impassive wall and I shall remain unaffected.
Zazarian frowned when I did not react any further, and that was exactly why I held in my outburst.
“Keit,” he shook his head, and called upon one of the templars outside. “Saw off one of her horns.”
The templar gulped. He understood. I understood.
I couldn’t help it, now that it was actually going to happen. My aura leaked out of me like a coat of darkness, and my eyes gazed upon them as if to crush their very souls. The walls of the cell closed in, and that of the corridor beyond. The temperature rose as they felt the weight of my rage. Even Zazarian was affected, though I doubt he would’ve reacted much if this were live combat. The fear was certainly there regardless.
My enemies ignored their better instincts, and doubled down anyway.
“We are the servants of the angels, and your wicked ways shall not scare us!” one of the templars shouted, clearly shaking.
“Y-yeah!” Keit agreed, wishing to believe it himself. He would die here today, no matter what, if he actually went through with it.
He walked forward. Step by agonizing step. It appeared like his fate would remain unchanged… and I would be left without my horns.
I felt such a deep well of resentment in this one moment, that it could only be compared to a mortal's eyes daring to gaze upon the visage of an eldritch god. Except all that was and ever will be were my own emotions, but so twisted in fury that even I could hardly recognize them despite the life I had lived. Hell, abyss, nether, under, condemnation of the highest chaos. It was agonizing. But I did not let go of it. I actively buried that grudge deep inside of me. My agony shall be their agony, today and tomorrow. I will not forgive. I will not forget.
The man grabbed my horns. I glowered at him, but he steeled himself. The saw made it close… and it never made contact, for I unleashed my magic in a flood of hellfire and curses that gave him one moment of agony, before being given the sweet gift of oblivion.
Yeah. As if I’ll just watch it happen. Anabela was too strong to kill with my magic alone, but the regular templars were a different story. Even if they didn’t die, they would no longer be able to perform their duty. And if they were to take my magic away anyway, then why not use it for one final time? I would get my fill of their suffering. As much of it as I could.
I also wasn’t sure if I could even do the same kind of ritual with my horns as I did my arm. The horns were like bone in their structure, with marrow inside, and proper feeling when grabbed. I didn’t know if that would suffice as the ingredient and catalyst to call upon the greater magic’s help. I had never tried.
“You’re really going to make even this difficult?” Zazarian asked as the injured templar was being dragged away. “We will succeed eventually. You know that, right?”
“Do it then, bitch.” What did I have to lose by being difficult?
He frowned. “Guards–”
The next shot hit him in the face.
“AAAHHHH!!” He screamed from the pain, and I kept pouring out the magic. There was no reason for me to not attack him directly either. I had only refrained so far to not bring attention to how capable I still was, but that time had long passed. The templar guards rushed back in, but had to retreat again because of the curtain of magic I deployed. Zazarian was forced to flee out of my range because I just reapplied what flames he had managed to quench, along with an unhealthy dose of curses.
People shouted for me to stop, as if anyone had ever listened to that demand.
More templars eventually streamed in from above. Some had access to water magic, and they cured Zazarian of the hellish flames. He looked incensed once the pain had passed, his once sophisticated look now disheveled and ugly and scarred. He called down for more templars, and they came at me in formation. With shields at the front, thickly armored units, and some elites. I tried to resist against them, and I managed to take out a few, but they reached me anyway to beat me until I passed out.
Blow after blow rained upon my head, poison was poured down my throat, and one wary shepherd touched upon my mind to facilitate further my slumber.
She slumped over in pain, but ultimately survived.
~~~
Pain. A world of pain. My world, in other words, but this pain was different. Ears ringing, teeth gnashing, my whole brain shaking, a vibration that seeped deep into bone and threatened to shake the organs within into oblivion. It was agony.
I snapped open my eyes to glare at the templar currently trying to saw my horns off. It felt excruciating to have something lodged inside of itm let alone moving back and forth. I turned that feeling into power and poured it all into the hellfire that roared out of me to burn the woman whose hands were already torn and rotting.
All that gave me was some temporary relief.
“Hold her down!”
“Shit!”
“She woke up!”
“Well knock her out again!”
“Call the captain!”
“WAIT SHIT RUN!”
Only a few of the templars that crowded my cell reacted fast enough to dodge the absolute furnace that roared through the enclosed space. They screamed and wreathed in pain upon contact with my diabolical flames, despite having not a concern for what they were doing to me. So I gave them what they deserved. A lesson in sympathy. A mere fraction of what I have suffered.
I kept it up until all my enemies had finally vacated or died. Not nearly enough met their demise, but I shall content myself for now in the knowledge that they would have to do so much to heal those I had touched. I’d heard it was a valid tactic in armies, to give your opponents someone to heal and lug around instead of getting an outright kill. Maybe the damage I’d done, and the story their despair told, would cause them to fear, if not reconsider.
~~~
The same maid as before came to feed me. The templars watched me warily, and even she could understand that the atmosphere was incredibly off. A couple of templars flanked her, but they were not many nor particularly strong. They must know that the forces they’d gathered weren’t enough if I wanted to kill the maid and the whole entourage.
I didn’t make any trouble for once. I knew I needed my nutrients, so I amicably devoured of the tasteless slop. There was less of it than before, but I did not let that bother me. It was a problem for I needed to be as healthy as I could to rebuild my body, but I would certainly not beg for it. It would only have the opposite effect.
~~~
They brought experts, they brought mages, they brought shielders. My enemies had accepted that they would not be able to simply have me knocked out through this process. So now they had come to saw off my horns while I was wide awake. I made sure that every inch cost them. I retaliated with all my magical might, and even strained against my bonds. I did not yet use my hyperdemon gland, because the results wouldn’t be worth it. It’d knock me out far better than anything they could make.
“I’ll fucking kill you! Just you wait until I’m out of here! I’ll shove spikes up your asses and put your rotting corpse in full display you fucking maggot!” I shouted profanities at them as my magic continued to flow. If one could believe it, that did nothing to slow them, rather quite the opposite. They ran into my field of magic more recklessly, allowing them to get a grip on my head faster, but at the cost of a few more lives. It was a trade I was willing to take, as even in such a compromised state, I did not give up. My magic only grew in intensity, as the tumultuous state of my emotions bled into reality. This only grew worse as they finally started to saw through my horns and rattle every inch of me. My world was one of pain, and I existed in it with all of my might. I got a brief reprieve when the people actually doing to operation had to be pulled back. They were bleeding and burning all over, for they had to be close in order to actually steal that which made me whole, and I made sure it cost them. Their allies did try to protect them, but that would never be enough when my enemy was so close I could touch them.
This same slog continued for hours. People were often changed out, and I noticed that they weren’t just templars anymore. Regular soldiers were mixed in, and they were even easier to break. I made them fear, I made them hesitate, I made them turn on their own friends, even when doing so meant making them so angry that they might attack anything, including me. I smiled evilly when the templars jumped in to protect me whenever that happened, for I could tell they were under orders to absolutely not let me die. I fucking abused it.
Still, despite my efforts, they succeeded with their goal in the end. Even my mana had to run out at some point, no matter my reserves. Now my right horn hung only by a thread, and I felt despair at losing one of my favorite parts of my body. But more than the sadness, I felt rage. My enemies thought I had finally given up when all signs of resistance stopped. I poured what remaining magic I had left into that one horn, and weaved it all tight into the solid structure.
My beautiful horn left my body, and in that one floating moment, I felt a great imbalance in myself.
But the wrath remained.
It never left.
And I unleashed it all in one powerful working of magic that would consume that which I once held dear.
“RETRIBUTION OF THE DISGRACED!”
My two egos resurfaced, and the most dangerous Mutation once again churned to life. I demanded the deaths, and the suffering, and the torture, the domination, and the humiliation of every single one of them, and I did not deny myself the satisfaction.
The horn evaporated like dust against the sun, for if I could not have it, then no one can.
With that sacrifice came a great explosion of hellfire and miasma. It consumed all who had remained in my cell and beyond. The corridor was awash with their screams. They cried and begged as their flesh sloughed off and burned, but they would never be saved. There was no one here to save them. The vaulted gates opened, but the people who poked their heads in instantly fled. They were abandoned in a hell of my own making. I made sure that they suffered every fucking bit of it. Not all of them would die here, maybe not even half, for all that energy was so diffuse, so then I shall make of this an experience they forever remember.
I watched the carnage continue, a requiem, a funeral, for what I had lost.
“P-please…” someone begged. A rare crustecar templar. “Make it end… someone…”
I only took joy in their whining, like I did for every other… until an idea wormed its way into my head.
I…
I…
I…
I forced my hyperdemon gland to settle. No, forced was not the right word. I argued and confided and thought to myself, until the insanity finally came to a stop.
I almost lost consciousness then and there, but this time, I did force myself to remain awake, even going as far as to make what little magic there was left in my body flare so that the pain may let me hang on to clarity. I had my full faculties again, and the perfect target to extract all the information from.
“I’ll make it quick,” I said kindly, only to be interrupted before I could continue.
“Please…! Anything…! Let it end…!”
“And I will. Just let me finish. Because you will have to give me something first. Otherwise, I’ll give you a taste of hell even worse.” My aura and eyes flared in emphasis.
“I-I-I-I will! Tell me!”
“Okay,” I smiled, and asked my questions.
I wanted to know about what happened that day when I was captured. I made sure to remember the names of anyone involved, the information etched into my memory core. And finally, I learned of the current situation, and it was so much better than I imagined. The whole of Astro City was under siege because a fire had been lit under New Grandera’s ass. The people were angry, and they wanted their hero back. The chants and the demands were so loud, that even the common populace knew it.
That made me smile, but more genuinely this time. I still did not agree with everything the nation did, but I’d make sure to at least return this one favor someday. They had proven capable and present in my time of need.
That was worth something. It was worth everything.
After a few more important nuggets of information, I shot a spear of wrath into the crustecar person’s brain and fulfilled my promise.
~~~
They took my other horn. I was filled only with humiliation as I hung there from my chains, amid another sea of writhing bodies and burning corpses. I was not even able to offer as big of a requiem as the last time, for my enemies had learned and pulled back their forces who were not strictly needed. Those who were left experienced hell as they killed each other in their death throes, but it was just not the same. I had failed again.
I considered for a moment if this was the time to make my escape, but I knew there were considerably more forces around the city than normal, and I was far from at my best. My magic had been robbed from me, my gear stolen, and my body severely diminished and weakened.
No. I would act when the spark had grown into a full-on wildfire. This wasn’t yet the moment.
~~~
The torture soon began. I knew it was coming, so I hardly reacted when a dozen blades dug into my skin. Their own hands bled and rotted from every attempt, and the templars who wished to torment me proved unwilling to suffer the consequences.
“W-why!?”
“We took your horns!”
“You should not be able to use magic anymore!”
I smiled sinisterly, but offered no response. They had no choice but to try again, but then came upon another roadblock. I randomly used my eyes and my aura to make them stumble and force them to waver. Many lost their footing and even disgracefully discharged themselves right in my cell. It was disgusting, my captors hardly cared to clean it, but I would not be the first one to balk. This hardly bothered me compared to literally everything else.
I noticed how the templars were weirdly disturbed by their new task. For all their cruelty, they did not actually know how to torture someone, and they didn’t send anyone who did. I had nothing but time to myself, so I pondered upon that question despite my constant anger. I wanted to rip myself off these chains and just kill as many as I could outside, but that was now a familiar and almost comforting feeling. I was almost more bored than wrathful.
I then realized that their sick and twisted ‘innocence’, might be because of the shepherds. They really did not know how to deal with me, because they were now forced to go without their tried and true method of just brainwashing someone into obedience. It did not end well at all when they tried.
And so, time continued to pass in that way. A haze of torturous violence and mind-numbing boredom. I began to meditate, even as strangers continued to cut me open. I processed the endless deluge of hatred that roiled inside of me, and made it stronger. I condensed the rage, allowed it to fill me in mind and soul, the endless desire to cause destruction upon my foes. Everything was my enemy, and they would all rue the day that I finally free myself from here. I was a sealed demon, but not forever. The evil shall one day return.
My breaths came out in harrowed gasps. Even I was starting to fray at the edges from what I had done. Blood continued to pour out of me from a thousand cuts, but I was not yet dead. Even my blood storage had become empty. I found myself watching as the red watered the grounds of my cell. My lifeblood seeped deeply into the foundations of this place, but for all that abundance, only death shall be sown.
My hearts beat faster. Mana leaked out of me like a broken faucet. It sank into the walls, and settled like an invisible sickness. Perverted. Pervading. I could almost feel it. A skittering that could never be caught. A ghost just out of view. The stumps of my horn grew uneven, barely longer than how it started. My missing arm twitched and pulsed so slowly, in an attempt to replace the tissue that had been lost. But there was just not enough biomass to replace what once was. I needed to consume more for that to happen. I needed to consume. Consume. Consume.
~~~
Zazarian came back to my cell, after months of his goons trying to get any concession out of me only to get nothing.
“Welcome welcome,” I laughed, no matter how dry my throat had become. “What brings you to my humble abode?”
He furrowed his brows. “Cut the insults. I came here because you have not made any progress at all.”
“Progress? In what? I’m literally chained. Maybe you should remove that if you so crave the endless march of progress.”
“I will not. You’ve proven too volatile. And I suggest you change that, because you will be killed soon if you’re not useful.”
“No I’m not.” I scoffed disdainfully. “Your mistress has ordered otherwise, concubine.”
His eyes widened. He took a step back. Shaken and surprised.
“You… You didn’t know that before? You did not! Who told you that!?”
I didn’t answer. I allowed his evil little mind to come to its own conclusions.
“YOU!” He shouted again, but this time it wasn’t directed at me. His finger was pointed at one of the templar guards outside. “Are you giving our prisoner intelligence about what’s been happening!? Have you just been casually talking around her because she’s all strung up, when she’s caused so much damage despite it already?!”
“N-no sir!”
“We’re not doing that!”
“We’ve been standing guard properly.”
“Then how the fuck does she know!?”
Zazarian looked back at me, only to find the same infuriating smile on my face.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me or I’ll make your life even worse!”
“As if you wouldn’t do it regardless.” I sneered. “Ah, but while we’re on topic, I do need you to stop sending people to rape me.” They had made more attempts along with the torture, but the rotting and torn state of my lower regions reflected what the consequences those who made the attempt suffered.
I’d first managed to incorporate my mini-rituals–or perhaps not so mini anymore–with my vengeance magic when I made all those shepherds braindead, and now I had even automated the process if to a weaker degree. The act of sacrificing myself really added that extra ‘oomph!’ to my powers.
“...What? You outright refuse to answer, and then you make demands?” He rattled my chains. “You are in no position to make demands!”
“Yes I am. Because I’m holding my own life hostage. I would rather die than allow my dignity to be taken in that way. So you will stop it or else you’ll lose the subject your queen had so tasked you to secure.”
His reptilian face scrunched harder. “You can’t kill yourself here. We won’t let you.”
“And how’s that worked out for you so far?” my voice dripped with condescension. “You know very well that I can die whenever I want.”
“...Fuck,” he muttered, before shaking his head. “You’re bluffing. You won’t do that.”
“Fuck around and find out, then.” I shrugged. “But you’re right in that I don’t want to. I definitely don’t. Which is why I’m proposing a wager. I’ve told you what I would kill myself over, but I have not complained at all about the torture. So take that as your one tool to break me, but not so much that you are left with nothing.”
“...Are you saying that you’ll stop retaliating to it, then? As long as we stop trying to… directly make you comply?”
“Rape me, you mean,” I growled. “But no. Not all all. Expect my retaliation at every turn.”
“Then this is no negotiation! You are fucking chained and trapped here! I don’t give a shit about what you want!”
“You’re right,” I nodded amicably. “This is no negotiation. I am merely informing you. If you wish for me to die and for you to fail your duty, then you know exactly what you can do to achieve it.”
A long pause followed. Zazarian almost visibly calculated how to respond, only to come up blank.
“No,” he told me succinctly, and then left.
The torture did ramp up after that, but no one tried to rape me since, just like I wanted.
That was a relief, because I was not bluffing. Not that my final moments would be anything like they ever expected.
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AN:
A 4K chunker. Not bad. Shit got really dark. But also, I know not much happened. As promised, this arc won’t take forever. This chapter was actually harder to write, because it was the one thing I didn’t intend to take up a whole chapter. But I wanted to establish some more things, and the situation needed to develop some more, and so it ended up becoming its own thing.
Really. I didn’t think shit would get so dark, despite how the events here were still ultimately planned, if not at least theorized. Like, I didn’t know if I would’ve had Anabela chop off an arm or a horn for example. The horn ended up happening later.
Comments
ZephanyZephZeph
Well there is one source of biomass. Flesh for flesh.
Jeanean
So, they have not been doing ANYTHING about the insane amounts of extremely magically potent blood they have been spilling for, aparantly, MONTHS?! Hael is going to blow the damn place sky-high once she leaves in one giant ritual, isn't she?
Jeanean
So, her chains are made of Herokane? I SO hope she is going to take them along as she escapes and uses them to upgrade her sword. It would be wonderfully symbolic and deliciously ironic.
