Stepping into the pit, he closes the gate behind me. As I look around I notice another gate on the far wall, and as it begins to open, Michael speaks up, drawing my gaze.
“This piece of filth is Belphegor of the Seven Deadly Sins, commonly referred to as Sloth. He has the ability to make his enemies slow and sluggish in battle.”
One of the Seven Deadly Sins, huh, doesn’t look like much.
“Let’s see if you can kill him the same way you killed Mammon.”
Looking back, the gate is open, but there isn’t anything in it.
“Above you,”Fenrir screams, alerting me.
Glancing up, I see he is above me. When I try to dodge it feels like I’m glued to the floor, catching me off guard, causing me to look at my feet. As I look back to my right all I see is a blur, as a clawed fist smashes into my head, driving me to the ground, holding me there. Pushing with such force, I can feel my skull cracking.
Then Belphegor bends down, still pinning me with his fist, and in a deep, echoing demonic voice, he speaks. “So, you’re the one who killed Mammon. I don’t see how something as weak as you could have accomplished that.”
He sneers, looking up at Michael. “I could kill you right here and now, but where is the fun in that? Speaking of fun, when I’m finished eviscerating you, I’m going to enjoy ripping your little whore apart,” Belphegor says with a sinister laugh.
Exploding into a furious rage, I shift with such violencethat he is thrown across the pit. Standing I finally see him, about ten feet tall, his face is a cracked, decayed cow skull with sinister black horns, twisting outward and black pit-less eyes.
His body is sickly lean, with black skin with what looks like grotesque red roots mangled and entangled over its torso. He also has long thin, but powerful arms and eight inch claws at the end of each finger. Utterly terrifying but it doesn’t matter nothing will stand in my way.
“So you do have some power, it doesn’t matter, you will die…” Before he finishes, I lunge and close the distance instantly.
“Shut your mouth!” I roar out, slamming his head into the wall, with my right claw; as my left digs into his stomach. How dare he call Frida a whore. Fenrir agrees with me. No one calls our mates such filthy things.
He grabs my forearm and pulls my claw free from his gut, then pushes me back. Before he can recover I rush him again, slashing repeatedly, viciously, completely lost in my rage.
“Evander, you can’t kill him like this. I understand you’re hurting, but don’t let him get the advantage. Control yourself,” Michael shouts, pulling me out of my furious state.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha, there is that power. You surprised me a little with that attack. I’ll admit,” Belphegor shouts with another menacing laugh. “But now I’m done playing around,” he growls, his tone snapping back to stern and pissed off.
He vanishes from sight, appearing behind me, slashing down with his right claw at my back. Just before he connects, I turn around and close the distance, grabbing his wrist.
“How, how are you faster than me?” he shouts with a hint of fear in his voice.
“You threaten me. You may get pleasure from others’ pain, and you threaten the only person I would gladly die for, so let’s see how you handle pain,” I growl, squeezing his wrist until I can feel the bones snap.
He yells out in pain, wincing. “You son of a bitch,” he roars, his eyes flashing with rage.
I inhale deeply, smirking. “Now that’s funny, a demon that reeks of fear,” I reply.
Reaching deep, I can feel the divine light quickly spread from my wings, as my silver fur begins to shine, starting at my chest and swirling outward to my arms and legs. Finally my claws shimmer in almost a cosmic black and silver.
“You called me weak, I’ll show you how weak I am,” I roar, tearing his claw from his arm and throwing it to the ground. He swings with his left claw, as I vanish to appear behind him. I jump, flip over him and grab both of his horns mid flip, then slam him into the ground, with the force of a meteor impact, cratering him into the floor in the process and snapping both of his horns.
He lays there twitching, gasping for air through gurgling bloody coughs. I take one of his severed horns and drive it into his eye. Ripping it back out, I scoff, and give him a nasty look.
“I am the last thing you will ever see,” I growl as I drive it into his other eye. Looking up at Michael, I step over Belphegor and drive my right claw-tipped hand into his chest, letting the divinity flow into him, turning his bloodied body into a smoldering pile of ash.
“You let your guard down and you still let your anger take over. If you want any hope of saving Frida, then you need to control your emotions, because next time it won’t be a Sin. It will be one of the Archdemons or even a Knight,” Michaelscolds as I release my light and the silver shimmer begins to fade.
“With the way that you’re talking I take it the Archdemons and Rulers are stronger than the Sins?” I reply, shifting back.
“The Sins are somewhere between a King and an Archdemon. They are powerful, but they don’t command hordes. The Knights of Hell are just above Rulers in strength and they were the ones that helped Rathor take Frida and the other fifteen angels. The two Knights that helped in the attack were Abaddon and Lilith, and it seems that Rathor is stronger now then the last time I saw him. Before, he was as strong as you are now and that allowed Lilith to take him, which is why you need to be stronger than all of them,” Raphael says, joining the conversation.
“Where were you keeping that Sin?” I ask.
“We have special holding cells in this dimension that we use to house stronger demons,” Raphael answers. “Michael, do you want me to get the next one ready?”
