

## From Hell with Love

## By Kevin Kauffmann

##   
Text Copyright © 2013 Kevin M Kauffmann

## Smashwords Edition

## To Kalpea, my light in the darkness:  
I hope someday you return

### Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Another Day in Hell

Chapter 2: Past - Sons of Firenze

Chapter 3: Life after Death

Chapter 4: Past - Rotten in the State of Firenze

Chapter 5: Chasing Shadows

Chapter 6: Past - Day of Revelation

Chapter 7: Of Beasts and Demons

Chapter 8: Past - The Prince of Beggars

Chapter 9: A Confederacy of Demons

Chapter 10: Past - Natural Born Killer

Chapter 11: Fall of the House of Lucifer

Chapter 12: Past - Death of a Horseman

Chapter 13: A Beast As Old As Time

Chapter 14: Past - No Place Like Home

Chapter 15: Apocalypse Now!

Note from the Author

# Chapter 1: Another Day in Hell

Lucifer looked at the hole in the ceiling far above him and sighed, a haze of smoke escaping from his chapped lips. Although the fallen angel had noticed the damage to the ceiling eons ago, he had decided that he rather liked the break in the pattern. His throne room needed its flaws or he would have gone mad again, and he only needed a few thousand years of insanity to realize it was just not worth it. The tedium of immortality was best weathered with a stalwart mind.

The roll of hellweed in his left hand was becoming a little warm to the touch, causing the angel to look down at the arm of his throne. The ember had approached his fingers, but Lucifer did not bother to put it out. Pain burned away at his nerves as Lucifer watched, smiling slightly at the feeling. After a moment, he readjusted his hold on the cigarette and then brought it to his lips, drawing in the acrid smoke before leaning back in his throne and looking at the hole in his ceiling. He watched as light danced along the stalactites hanging above the opening.

Lucifer closed his eyes and remembered the light of heaven. It was far more inviting, far more appealing than the hellfire which had surrounded him these last two million years. Pangs of homesickness hit the fallen angel and caused his spirit to sink. This was his just desserts; ruling in Hell while his faithful brothers and sisters remained by their father. This was the price he paid every day for two million years, just for bringing humanity out of the dark.

Now all he had was the darkness.

"GODDAMNIT!"

The shout echoed throughout the throne room and battered Lucifer out of his thoughts of misery and loneliness. He opened his golden eyes and sighed again, the newly-released smoke obscuring his view of the damaged ceiling above. Lucifer grunted as he sat up in his twisted throne, the pommel of a broadsword poking into his back once he got to his full height. His brow furrowed as he looked back at the rusted blade. Ever since the new palace had been built, he had maintained a shifting seat of bones and weapons for intimidation and later propriety, but this incarnation was particularly annoying. Luckily, the throne would warp into something else the next day. Lucifer just hoped it would not be something worse.

He picked himself up and then walked down the small set of stairs that led away from his throne, covered in an old, red carpet. The dimly-lit double doors to the Reception Hall were a hundred yards away from his throne and he was in no rush to get to them. Lucifer had thought he could take an hour nap and had extinguished most of the torches to do so, but even that small concession could not be given to the ruler of the demonic world. He could not remember the last time he had not felt tired or had time to relax, but that was expected of the job.

This was _his_ Hell.

Lucifer looked up at the high vaulted ceiling of his throne room and sighed for a third time, as if he wanted to shame the universe itself. The architect of both the old palace and the new were fond of grand monuments and high columns, dark perversions of the home they had left behind, and Lucifer had never found it pleasant. Trying to ignore the similarities, the fallen angel turned his attention to the doors ahead of him, feeling the soft carpet on his bare feet. Lucifer wore nothing except a heavy, white cloth around his hips that fell down to his shins and he did not bother to hide his bald head under ornaments or accessories. He had always been an angel of simple taste and had carried that lifestyle with him into the underworld, even if he was no longer Adonai's servant. As he set his pure-white hand against the door leading into the Reception Hall, he tried to remember that he was now, and forever would be, the Devil.

"What's the problem, Nico?" he asked after he pushed open the doors to the Reception Hall, which was brightly-lit in contrast to his throne room. The hall was larger than his throne room by half and when a special event was being held, decorations would be streaming from column to column, stands would be set up for vendors, and demons of court in ridiculous dress would be standing around exchanging meaningless conversation. Now it was practically empty, only a simple long table set in front of him lined with cushioned chairs for minor guests and friends. Lucifer wiped the fatigue from his eyes as he took in the light from the numerous torches burning in their sconces, finding out exactly who was in the room with him.

"Your son, Lucifer," an angry voice growled from just a few yards away. After his eyes adjusted to the light, the Devil was able to see Niccolo in his fury, the maimed frown on his face clearly visible. Lucifer swept his left hand along his scalp before looking at the Horseman, whose unkempt black hair was obscuring the leprosy on the left side of his face.

"Are you two _ever_ going to get along?" Lucifer asked as he approached the long table. He set his hands on one of the cushioned chairs as he kept his eye on the angry Horseman across the table.

"They've had almost two-hundred years to do it, Lucy," a voice came from Lucifer's other side and, when he looked to the wall on his left, Lucifer found his old friend Azazel leaning up against it. The black blindfold still covered the demon's eyes, but Lucifer could see the sardonic smile twisting his purple lips. Azazel looked almost human, but his pallid grey skin, reptilian tail and goat legs set him apart from the constant influx of human souls. He had not decided to keep his human appearance after the Fall, but Lucifer could not blame him for that.

"Well, two hundred years isn't so long," Lucifer said before turning back to the furious Horseman, who was breathing heavily underneath his yellowed scale armor. Azazel grunted at his statement.

"Tell that to Nico. Though I do have to say that Mammon might be a special case," Azazel said from his position, his dark hair shrouding his face even though a good deal of it was pulled back in a ponytail. Lucifer could always count on his old friend to bring some light to this dark prison, no matter what had happened between them in the past.

"Special is an understatement," Lucifer muttered as he looked around the room, sniffing as he noticed the broken furniture and cracks in the walls caused by Niccolo's temper tantrum.

"Are you two finished? I need to talk to you about that asshole," Niccolo said, the force of his breath causing some of his hair to sway in front of his eyes. Lucifer caught sight of the leprosy covering his left eye and felt bad for the Horseman; Niccolo never had the best of luck.

"Well, Nico, what did he do? I understand he's a handful," Lucifer started, but Niccolo shouted over him.

"A _handful_? That monster isn't just a _handful_ , Scratch, and this isn't something that can be waved over with a magic wand. He _killed_ Fafnir!" the former human shouted as he slammed his twisted left hand onto the table, forcing the leg underneath to buckle. Lucifer looked at the gnarled appendage and breathed in deeply. Bearing the marks of his pestilence made the Horseman more powerful, but on first sight, the arm had caused Lucifer to shudder.

"He was barely a hatchling," Azazel added, but Niccolo glared at the demon's statement.

"He wasn't _just_ a hatchling. I raised Fafnir for almost sixty _years_. Mammon had _no_ right to do what he did," the Horseman said, venom seeping through the syllables. Lucifer cursed as he brought up his hand and rubbed his cheek.

"Look, Nico, I know you were attached to Fafnir," the angel started, but Niccolo slammed the table once more, the twisted bow on his back almost sliding out of its place.

" _Attached_? This wasn't just because Fafnir was my pet. This wasn't just because I get lonely down in the Pestilence Quarter. Your _son_ ATE MY DRAGON!" he shouted as he slammed the table again for emphasis, breaking the wooden construct into pieces. "He didn't just take my _allowance_ , Scratch. This is an unforgiveable insult."

"Well," Lucifer started, unfazed by his Horseman's childish antics, "you're gonna have to forgive it, Nico."

" _What_?" Niccolo asked, murder in his voice. Lucifer merely shrugged.

"If I punished demons for killing mindless animals, the entirety of Hell would rise up against me. I'd have to fight them all back down to civility, and that's just something I don't want to do again. I've had my fill of insurrections in two million years. I'm sorry, Nico."

"You can't be serious," he replied under his breath, but Lucifer just maintained eye contact with him.

"I am. I know Fafnir meant a lot to you. You were excited when that egg hatched, but I can't do a damned thing. If he attacked Plague, then we would talk, but Mammon has enough sense to leave your horse alone," he said before standing back and looking at his young friend.

"If he eats my horse? That's the line, Scratch? That's when it's too fucking far for the Hellborn? That's when I'm allowed to come talking to you about SLAPPING HIM ON THE FUCKING WRIST?" Niccolo shouted, his anger piercing through the angel's soul, even if the Horseman only had one good eye to glare at his mentor.

"Nico..."

"No, I fucking get it, Scratch. _I get it_. He's your son. Mammon can do whatever he wants. He can get away with _anything_ just because he's your _pride_ _and_ _joy_ ," Niccolo said, his tone frigid, which brought a quiet chuckle from Azazel.

"Oh, I think we can leave pride and joy off the table," he added with a wicked smile. The statement brought looks of disapproval from both Niccolo and Lucifer, but they did not comment on it.

"This isn't over, Scratch. Just because _you_ won't do anything doesn't mean _I_ won't," Niccolo said before walking over to the far exit.

"Please don't," Lucifer pleaded before sighing and looking back at Azazel. "The city can only repair itself so much." Niccolo slammed the door to the hall on his way out, causing a chandelier made of bones to fall at the other end of the room and crash against the floor. Once the last bone stopped skittering across the ground, Azazel pushed himself off the wall and then leaned against one of the chairs.

"This is what you get for playing favorites, Lucy. None of the other Horsemen would have come to you over something this small. They wouldn't be barging off to go kill your son, for sure," he said, which caused Lucifer to look at him with a sad smile.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly like that's a bad idea," he muttered. As he considered the statement, Azazel let his tail wrap around the chair for support.

"I would actually pay to see that fight. Think it'd be fun," he said before turning his head to the entryway across the massive room. Even with his blindfold on, Azazel knew where everything was, but that was no surprise. Lucifer was well aware of the satyr's talents, even if he hid them away.

"I'd rather they didn't. But then again, I'm invested," Lucifer said before laying his arms across the back of the chair and resting his head against it.

"Bad investment. Pretty sure only one of them is worth a damn," Azazel stated, which caused Lucifer to raise his head back up and stretch his arms above him.

"I...don't think you're wrong," he said as he looked at the left side of the room, the scene causing his face to twist in confusion. "Seriously? He set the wall on fire?"

"He might have, yeah."

"And...you didn't think to stop him?" Lucifer asked in dismay, but Azazel merely shrugged.

"Thought it livened up the place."

***

Niccolo shouted as he threw a haymaker at the horrific statue in front of him. Not surprisingly, his mutated arm shattered the gargoyle's granite head and pieces of the statue scattered around the fountain, which was situated in the courtyard opening up to the War Quarter. The Horseman of Pestilence breathed heavily for a moment as he looked at his twisted, pain-ridden hand, remembering Fafnir's happy roar. The oversized lizard has been a bright spot in Niccolo's life, one destined never to shine again. Mammon would have to pay for the insult.

"What did that fountain ever do to you? I mean, the statue's only been there for a couple hundred years, Nico," a nasal voice echoed through the courtyard. Almost instantly Niccolo's mind flooded with anger and he looked around the empty space, determined to find his tormentor.

"Up here, kiddo," the voice projected again, which allowed Niccolo to find the source. He looked up to the awning of the palace wall thirty feet in the air and noticed the small, mustard-yellow demon responsible for his hatred. Niccolo's good eye was reduced to a slit as he furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth, his fury almost palpable.

" _Mammon_."

"Why is it that you're _always_ angry, Nico? I swear, you need to learn how to have some fun," the demon said as he sat on the edge of the roof and let his stubby legs swing in the empty air. The monster's skin glistened with some fluid and the tissue covering his massive eyes seemed to emit light on its own. His bat nose was dripping a liquid Niccolo had always assumed was snot, which was repulsive in its own right. None of that held a candle to the demon's actions.

"Fun, Mammon? Eating my dragon was fun?"

"Hell yeah, it was!" Mammon said with a high-pitched laugh. "I used his scales to dip into his organs and had my fill. Once you start, you really can't stop."

"You didn't have the right," Niccolo said with an undercurrent of rage, but that only brought a scoff from the childish demon.

"The _right_? I didn't have the right? Nico, I'm the _Hellborn_. I'm Lucifer's _son_!" he shouted as he lifted himself up and pranced about the roof. He turned over his shoulder and laughed. "You're the one who doesn't have any rights."

"He hates you, Mammon. He hates you for what you did and what you are. I don't see why you get to eat my dragon," Niccolo said, determined to make the demon angry. Instead, it only drew a twisted, open-mouthed smile showing fangs.

"He might hate me, Horseman, but he still won't do a damned thing. I'm all he has left of her. And I get to eat your dragon because there's nothing you can do about it. I'm not scared of a little human soul clinging to some meaningless hope that he might belong somewhere. Trust me, just run along and enjoy the rest of your day," he said before laughing and lying down, propping himself up with his elbows.

Niccolo wanted to tear Mammon apart with his bare hands, but he remembered what Lucifer had said. Some other day, some other lucky moment, that would be the time he would take his revenge; he would not destroy the palace to do it. Niccolo breathed in deeply as he gathered his nerves and denied every thought of vengeance. After a moment of fantasy, Niccolo turned and started to walk toward the stairs leading away from the palace.

"Ooh, I almost forgot! Hey, Horseman!" the nasal voice pierced into his mind once more. Niccolo turned around and looked at his nemesis, but what he saw destroyed any thoughts of keeping the peace. Mammon was still perched on the awning, but he had shoved his hand through the throat of Fafnir's disembodied head, operating it like a puppet. "I wuv you diiiiiis much!"

Mammon was laughing, his arm still buried in Fafnir's neck, when the arrow burst through the scales of the dragon's head and forced it to slip off the demon's hand, flying to the other edge of the roof.

The son of the Devil looked down to find Niccolo holding a twisted, black bow in his diseased hand. And, after looking at the wrist that had recently been inside Fafnir's throat, Mammon finally realized what Niccolo had done and heat flared out from his demonic eyes.

"You... YOU'RE DEAD!" Mammon screamed as he jumped down from the roof and landed with force into the dirt of the courtyard, his right hand slamming through the tiles. He snarled as his hand found purchase and then lifted an object out of the ground, which was a bright-red cylinder that Mammon had crafted from the rock. The end of the weapon started to ebb flame and magma before taking the shape of a shifting blade.

Niccolo whipped his gnarled, black bow around his back and set it back in its mooring before grabbing at the air with his demonic hand. From the scars and boils of his palm a rigid handle started to form, but he did not wait for it to finish before he ran toward his enemy, who was already scrabbling along the floor and waving his burning sword. Niccolo swung his monstrous arm with a flourish, which caused a wicked, green blade to bubble forth from the newly-made handle. Longer than Mammon's brand, it was about the length of a bastard sword, but Niccolo would not underestimate the Hellborn.

As the Horseman advanced toward his ravenous enemy, he thought about his chances. He had plenty of training, both in his life and after that, but Mammon had been around for ten thousand years. Niccolo readied his blade for a powerful, two-handed diagonal strike, but before they were within four yards of each other, a strange weapon crashed into the ground between them. Niccolo was almost not able to react as he recognized the weapon of his fellow Horseman, an ornate scythe with a razor-sharp edge and a skull etched into the crest of the blade. Both combatants skidded to a halt once they recognized another Horseman had arrived, each of them looking toward the soft footsteps approaching from the road. There was a tense silence as Niccolo held his blade brimming with death, as Mammon's fiery brand crackled in the hellish air.

"Why, exactly, do I have to interrupt this feud yet again?" the cloaked figure asked as he walked up to his weapon buried halfway in the stonework, extending a lightly-armored hand to loose it from its mooring. After reclaiming his scythe, the Horseman stood up and his cloak settled back to show the light leather armor covering the man's body. Niccolo was still trying to claim the words at the tip of his tongue as the grey specter raised his hand to his hood and drew it back, exposing the very human face beneath. The thin, pale face looking right at him was accented by a short crop of light-brown hair, and, as usual, his expression was one of disappointment.

"Cadmus..."

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Nico. You know better. Actually," Cadmus said as he used his scythe to point at his friend, "never mind. Whatever excuses you have don't matter. And you," he said before turning to the yellow demon still heaving behind him, "what would your father say?"

"He wouldn't say a damn thing!" Mammon shouted, but Cadmus merely gave a wry smile at that.

"And doesn't that just hurt the most? The two of you," he said before pointing at each of them with his blade, "are acting like children. This is Hell, not a playground."

"He killed Fafnir, Cadmus," Niccolo said, gripping his handle tighter. The reaper turned to his friend and sighed.

"I know," Cadmus said with a touch of sympathy. "I assume you've already talked to Lucifer," he said, which forced a nod from Niccolo.

"He said that if he punished demons for killing animals that he might as well prepare for another insurrection," Niccolo admitted, lowering his blade as the fight emptied out of him.

"That's the truth of it, Nico. This is just something you'll have to get past," he said before turning to the demon on his other side. "There's no point to this, Mammon. I'd know if someone was going to die, and today's not that day. You have better things to do, I'm sure."

"Plenty, but I'm more than willing to wait," the demon said with a chuckle before tossing his brand up in the air and catching it.

"Is there any ounce of you that might feel sorry for eating our friend's dragon?" Cadmus asked, which brought a sneer from the yellow demon. "Figures. Well, just know that by killing his dragon, you've already caused Nico a lot of pain. Any chance you could be content with that?" The question made the Hellborn stand up straight in thought, but eventually he shrugged.

"Bah, this is just getting boring. No one's dying today?" Mammon asked, which brought a shrug from the cloaked Horseman.

"Not here. Not either of you."

Mammon looked at the Pale Rider for a moment, but then brought the brand to his mouth and blew out the flame before tossing the handle away, where it was reclaimed by the dirt.

"Screw it, I'm going to Pits. At least I can satisfy my bloodlust there. Later, kiddies," Mammon said as he walked past the two Horsemen. As he reached the gateway toward the city he raised his left hand and extended his middle finger. "Oh, and fuck you," he said before walking down the steps and out of their sight.

" _No one was going to die_ , Cadmus?" Niccolo asked as he absorbed his blade back into his monstrous arm, moving out of his ready position. The shrouded Horseman scratched the back of his head before turning to his old friend.

"No clue," he said as he walked toward his compatriot. "My abilities are grossly exaggerated, as you know, but it doesn't hurt to spread the myths and lies from time to time."

"So no hunches?" Niccolo asked as he readjusted the weapon on his back. He had slipped the black bow into its mooring, but he wanted to make sure he had easy access. Cadmus shrugged as he propped himself up with his scythe.

"Not here, that much was true. Something's about to happen in the War Quarter, I think, but we can take our time. Most likely a feral outbreak."

"Those are happening a lot more often, aren't they?" Niccolo said as he shoved his thumbs beneath the belt of his armor. Cadmus looked at him with sorrow permeating through his grey eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, they are. Want to keep me company?" he asked, already knowing the answer. The two of them started walking to the gateway as they continued their conversation.

"It'll be something to do. Something to get my mind off of..." Niccolo started, but memories of his pet resurfaced with the words.

"I'm sorry, Nico. Animals are a little beyond my," Cadmus tried to explain, but Niccolo waved it away with an absent movement of his hand.

"Don't worry about it. You, of all people, have nothing to be sorry for."

***

"God, I hate the War Quarter," Niccolo said as he kicked a loose cobblestone down the street. Cadmus looked at him with a raised eyebrow, using his weapon as a walking stick as they made their way.

"Makes sense. It's a little different from the Pestilence Quarter," Cadmus contributed, watching his young friend as he put his hands behind his head. Niccolo was the most recent addition to the Horsemen, it had been only a little over two hundred years since his fall, but Cadmus found him to be the most agreeable. The reaper had started to get desperate for new company.

"Oh, it's not that, Cadmus, and you know it. I'm fine in the Famine Quarter and your place is tolerable. It's just... I don't know, maybe it's the people."

"Really? This is probably the most exciting place in Dis and you're constantly complaining about being bored," Cadmus said as looked skeptically at Niccolo. As much as Cadmus liked his fellow Horseman, Niccolo did have his faults.

"Yeah, there's a lot of fighting and everything. It's just... The people are all so... _dumb_ ," he whined, but he was interrupting by a deep laugh.

"You're one to talk, leper," followed after the laugh, the voice so familiar that the Horsemen knew exactly who had joined them. They turned to find an armored giant mounted on a massive red horse lazily approaching them. The brute's armor was red and black, fearsome carvings and etchings throughout the hell-forged pieces, but most impressive was the massive blade mounted on his back. It was more a slab of iron than a weapon, but their fellow Horseman knew how to wield it masterfully.

"You know, Ajax, I think I know exactly where they get it," Niccolo said as he adopted a hostile stance toward the new arrival. "After all, since you fly off the handle when anybody points out the obvious, they have to pretend for your sake. Or, you know, get a sword crushing their ribcage." Niccolo crossed his arms as the legendary warrior swayed in his saddle, a handled jug in his left hand.

"I don't mind if people are smarter than me, Nico," Ajax said as his horse loomed over his rotting counterpart. He dismounted from his horse, which seemed to implode into a bundle of muscle tissue and blood before disappearing completely, and stood near the other Horsemen, his breath reeking of strong wine. "That's never been what I respect from a man. That's why you'll always be _little_ Nico to me."

"And here I thought that I held a special place in your heart," Niccolo said as he adopted a sullen expression and kicked at the street, the sole of his boot scraping against cobblestones. "Whatever will I do without the respect of an alcoholic swordsman?" Niccolo accented the question with a wink, which brought a laugh from the warrior. Ajax set his arm on the smaller man's shoulder and then engulfed Niccolo in a fog of alcoholic breath.

"That you have to ask shows just how little you know. A man must be able to kill his enemies and fill his belly with fire, little Nico, and I should know. I've been killing men for thousands of years and have discovered the truth of the universe," Ajax claimed, tapping Niccolo's chest plate with an armored finger. The leper cocked his head to the side and looked at his elder with incredulity.

"You? The truth of the universe? Forgive me for thinking you're too simple to know more than which boot goes on which foot," Niccolo tried to antagonize the giant warrior, but Ajax just laughed before bringing his face closer and bathing his fellow Horseman in the stink of wine.

"Little Nico, the world is simple, just like me! I like my wine, I like my blood. I don't see why either should ever stop flowing. And don't even talk to me about what it's like when they swirl together," Ajax said, shivering at his own memories before tipping his jug, threatening to pour its contents on Niccolo's shoulders. "I could show you right now, Horseboy." Niccolo rolled his eye before using his hand to wave away the warrior's threat.

"I appreciate the offer, Ajax, but I have no desire to cut you open and drink wine at your defeat. I just _respect_ you too much. C'mon, Cadmus, let's stop wasting time." Ajax scoffed at Niccolo's dismissal as he waved around his jug, red wine sloshing out from the lip of the container.

"The only use you _have_ , little Nico, is wasting time. What are you doing in my quarter anyway? Had enough of your rotting friends and skeletons? Wanted to spend some time with real men and real demons in the Pits?" Ajax asked before losing his balance and stumbling to the side, his giant body falling into the wall of the hovel nearby. The roads leading toward the massive pavilion, the complex devoted to the fighting pits, were lined with layers upon layers of small homes and bigger buildings all nesting into one another. When Ajax slammed into the wall, three stories of shanties shuddered.

"You're drunk, Ajax. Go sleep it off," Cadmus said as he shook his head, but the other Horseman regained himself and pushed off the wall, standing over the cloaked soul.

"You will NOT tell me what to do in my own domain! If..." Ajax burped before continuing, "if you tell me what to do in my quarter again you will know just what happened to all those damn Trojans!" he shouted, his right hand flying to the handle of his weapon. Cadmus looked at him and narrowed his eyes, unimpressed by the warrior's antics.

"I seem to remember you died in that war, Ajax. Not the best example," the cloaked Horseman said, drawing a growl from the warrior's throat. "In any case, we're going to be gone from here soon enough. We won't get in the way of your perversion. And don't forget, Ajax," Cadmus said with a certain note of disdain. "Our quarters don't belong to us. I'm not sure Eligos would take kindly to your threats."

At the reminder, Ajax seemed to shrink; it only took his master's name to make him regain what little sense he had. After a moment of consideration, however, the warrior puffed out his chest and tried to assert himself once more.

"Fine. What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked. "It's not often I see either of you walking around here."

"Why do I ever go anywhere, Ajax?" Cadmus asked before starting back down the street, the view of the War Quarter's brightly-lit pavilion dominating the horizon. Ajax sighed as he stepped back just as bundles of muscle and flesh manifested in the air, steadily becoming bits and pieces of Ajax's steed.

"You carry bad luck with you wherever you go, Pale Rider," Ajax said as he mounted the beast still coming into existence. When the red horse fully materialized, the warrior urged it away from his fellow Horsemen and rode out of earshot.

"No, I just happen to find it," Cadmus said under his breath. He looked to his right and found that Niccolo was stealing glances at him as they walked, neither of them wanting to summon their own horses for this conversation, although the creatures were almost certainly eavesdropping. Cadmus sighed as he tapped his scythe along the cobblestones.

"You have something to say?"

"Still having a problem with it?" Niccolo asked as he shoved his thumbs under his belt again. He avoided eye contact by looking down at his scaled armor, yellowed by age and complemented by the red tunic he wore underneath. Due to the awkwardness of the conversation, Niccolo almost wanted to reach behind him and pull up the red material bundled near his neck and hide his face beneath the hood.

"With what? The reaping? The guilt? The blame? I have no shortage of problems."

"I just figured you might want to talk about it," the leper muttered, drawing the black nails of his left hand through his scraggly hair, feeling the ruined skin obstructing his left eye. When Cadmus saw Niccolo's reaction, which was something the leper would do when he felt especially out-of-place, he realized that his friend was just trying to help.

"It's gotten easier to deal with, Nico, it has, but for the last thirty years there are just more and more of them," Cadmus said as he broke out of his normally-stoic behavior, desperation seeping into his words. "Every other day I have one of these damned hunches and I have to go reap the soul of a feral demon. I mean, Nico, they used to be _human_. We don't really need to worry about the Fallen, only some of them ever went feral and that was before my time, but it's a little rough. My job while we're down here is to...send people to oblivion."

"You shouldn't feel guilty about that," Nico suggested, but Cadmus shook his head.

"Why _not_? They had _eternity_ until this madness took their minds away from them. Rumors are going around that it just means the Apocalypse is getting close, but that doesn't exactly make it better. Hell, I'm one of the Horsemen, same as you. You can't tell me they don't stare at you and you don't feel the slightest bit guilty that you're part of the process."

"Yeah, well," Nico started, but he had no argument against his friend.

"Just imagine what it's like to be the guy who kills the people who get out of control. I'm just... I'm tired of all that. And that's not even mentioning the reaping."

"I can't imagine," Niccolo added, listening intently to his friend, the awkwardness he felt melting away as Cadmus opened up. The Pale Rider kept so much inside, but there was a bond between the two Horsemen; they could talk about anything, so long as Cadmus would let him listen.

"You really can't. Whatever they used to be, whatever powers they had, whatever pain, it all flows into me in those brutal seconds. The other day I had to reap a soul who was two _thousand_ years old, Nico. He had forgotten everything about Earth; it was a past filled almost entirely with living in Hell. That was one of the worst headaches I've ever had, and I get little flashes of his memories even now."

"Doesn't sound pleasant," Niccolo said softly, hoping that his friend was feeling better after the exchange, though the scowl on his face was not a good sign. Cadmus looked at him and sighed before hurrying his pace.

"No, it doesn't. And in about ten minutes I'm going to have to do it again."

***

They heard the battle before they saw it. The two Horsemen were walking down the main avenue when the shriek of a wild animal drew their attention.

"There," Cadmus urged before turning down a side alley and walking briskly, gripping his scythe tightly with his bare hands. Niccolo knew the reaper could take care of himself, but that did not stop him from grabbing his bow with his ruined hand. When they turned a corner and approached the clearing, they were able to see what his hunch had been about.

A massive bird-like creature burned its way through the sky, streaming green fire as it flew past the lone demon in the clearing and making a terrifying screech as it went. Niccolo readied his bow, which magically strung itself, while Cadmus brought his scythe down to ward off any incoming blows.

"Who the hell is that?" Niccolo asked in wonder, watching as the gigantic demon rose into the dark air, trailing feathers that burst into flame once they left the bird's body.

"I'm not sure," Cadmus stated, but his gaze fell to the warrior picking himself up in the clearing. The lone demon, bare-chested and wearing a pair of black trousers tied down by a blue sash, seemed to gather darkness around him, but trails of blue lightning flowed from the center of his torso, streaking throughout his arms. He wore a set of silver bracers, but otherwise the only equipment he held was a plain spear in his right hand. "Crocell seems to be having a tough time with him."

"The slayer is already here?" Niccolo asked before looking back to the clearing. The fallen angel, his blue skin reflecting the lightning wrapping around his body, had stood up to his full height by then and was readying himself for the next assault. "Of course," Niccolo said as he reached for an arrow from his quiver, "he would have to be."

Before the two of them were able to say another word, the feral demon swooped down from the sky and slammed into Crocell, who pushed back hard at the impact. The blue demon's feet skidded along the surface, but eventually they found purchase and he was able to use his left hand to direct the demon into the ground. The tremors were enough to shake the Horsemen at their position, but they were not particularly worried. Crocell had a talent for dispatching feral demons, not to mention millennia of experience as a slayer.

"Do you need help?" Niccolo asked, making sure that the enigmatic demon was not in over his head. From over the feral demon's body, Crocell glared at the Horsemen before shaking his head.

"Just stay back!" Crocell shouted before turning his attention back to the former demon. Now that the creature was not burning its way through the sky, Niccolo and Cadmus were finally able to get a good look at it. Though it was essentially just a big, black bird, its wings ended with human hands, the fingers extended and decorated with curled black talons, and streams of black cloth were wrapped around its neck. Whoever it had been, they had only recently turned, not fully capitalizing on their full potential.

Crocell walked toward the fallen bird and was about to pierce it with his spear, but then the demon picked itself up and jumped away, cawing as it went. As the beast moved around the clearing, Cadmus was finally able to realize which demon Crocell was fighting.

"Oh no, it's Räum," he said under his breath, unaware he was saying the words aloud. Niccolo immediately looked at him in shock before catching his breath and looking at the two demons locked in mortal combat.

"Wait, like... Räum the Seer? He's one of the Fallen!" he said, watching as Cadmus covered his mouth with his left hand. "I thought you said it was usually humans that went feral."

" _Usually_ , Nico. I've heard stories, but I've never seen it," Cadmus said, trailing off and dropping the handle of his scythe, his resolve emptying out of him; he had not been prepared to reap a fallen angel. As Cadmus lost his will, Räum's feathers shifted and the demon became a mixture between man and bird, using its now mostly-human legs to jump forward and strike his talons against Crocell.

The slayer parried the deadly strikes from Räum with his bracer, sparks flying from the impact, but even though Räum had become such a vicious creature, Crocell did not seem to care. Black feathers drifted about the clearing and lit their arena with green flame as Räum fought against his fellow demon, jumping back and forth and swiping at Crocell whenever he could. The slayer merely kept up his guard and used his spear to ward off his opponent, which caused Niccolo to furrow his brow.

"Is he _playing_ with him? Why is Crocell taking so long?" he asked, but Cadmus shook his head before walking to the edge of the alleyway.

"You can't underestimate the Fallen. They were angels; Adonai's servants. Only over the countless millennia did any of them abandon their heavenly forms, but even after changing their bodies, they're extremely powerful. Although he's feral, a demon like Räum could kill a thousand other souls. Why do you think we haven't joined Crocell over there?"

"Because we enjoy the show?" Niccolo said, doing his best to help his friend out of his desperation, but Cadmus was unable to lift himself out of his despair.

"In his right mind, Räum could kill _both_ of us. At least Crocell is another fallen," Cadmus said in a soft voice, and they watched as the slayer stared at his prey. Räum seemed to tire of their struggle and shifted back into the crow burning with green flame before flying up into the air. Crocell stared for a moment before realizing that the demon was trying to escape, causing the slayer to reveal his true self.

Water ebbed out of the fallen angel's back before solidifying into dark, powerful wings and blue lightning accentuated every curve and line of the demon's musculature. It somehow emphasized the dark aura around him before light burst from the plain spear and, after it faded, the weapon was replaced by a magnificent, shining trident.

Niccolo had been prepared to shoot at the escaping demon but, as he nocked his arrow, he saw Crocell leap from the clearing and flap his wings to gain more speed. Before the Horsemen could react, the blue demon slammed his trident through the torso of the humongous crow and continued through the newly-made hole, bursting through the demon's back. Lightning crackled out from the strike as Crocell passed through the demon, but it was over quickly. The slayer watched from the air as his opponent's ruined body fell back into the clearing with a bloody thump.

"Holy shit," Niccolo muttered as Räum's still-burning body twitched and the blood pooled around him. After a few moments of taking in the carnage, Cadmus cleared his throat and approached Räum, who was starting to shift back into his normal, mostly human shape. The only difference was the crow's head.

"He's still dangerous, reaper," a whisper came from above them. Niccolo was still holding his bow ready when the blue demon landed gracefully beside them, mist leaking from every pore. The slayer cracked his neck as the wings retreated back into his body, but Cadmus was not paying attention to him. Since he had become a reaper, Cadmus had plenty of experience dealing with slayers; he had _no_ experience in taking the soul of an angel.

"They're all dangerous until they become wandering spirits. I just can't... I don't want to wait for that," Cadmus almost whispered, his voice grim. With his black eyes, Crocell looked at him disapprovingly, but eventually shrugged before heading toward the far alleyway.

"Then give him mercy, Horseman; the old crow deserves it. Just be careful. It will be different than dealing with one of you humans," Crocell said as darkness surrounded him. The lightning coursing through his veins grew dim and even the air seemed to turn away light. Niccolo placed his bow back in its place before walking within a few yards of the whimpering demon.

"He wasn't lying, Nico. Until he breathes his last, Räum can still attack," Cadmus said as he walked past his friend. Niccolo shook his head before crossing his arms.

"I... still can't believe this," Niccolo said while the reaper stood beside him.

"That he went feral?" Cadmus asked, preoccupied with the same thought.

"Yeah, it's just...why is this happening? Why is it all happening now? Räum held power and dignity for more than a million years and Crocell had to cut him down for turning into a glorified crow. What is going on?" Niccolo asked, but he knew that his friend did not have the answer.

"It's not our place to know," Cadmus said, seeming to read his friend's mind. "As Horsemen, we do what we're told. We live with it." As he said the words, Cadmus realized he was just trying to convince himself, but that did not stop him from performing his duties. Cadmus walked toward the dying beast and lowered his scythe, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves. Reaping was never a pleasant experience, and he had no idea what he could expect from Räum's soul.

The Horseman of Death brought his blade across the feral demon, seeing the blade flicker into a blue ghost of itself as it cut through Räum's spiritual essence. Almost immediately, hidden thoughts and aspirations, emotions and fears flooded into Cadmus' mind, causing the Horseman to reel away from the corpse. Visions tore through his head while Räum's voice screamed at him, threatening to shatter his mind.

Cadmus had been the avatar of death for seven hundred years and he had been trained to take in the minds of his victims. He had been forced to kill former humans and lesser demons, each experience more harrowing than the last. There was a part of Cadmus that thought he was prepared for this.

Räum's mind was like reaping ten thousand souls at once. Cadmus retched as reality swam about him, as he heard the whispers of millions of conversations and felt the pain of a fallen angel. For a moment he almost felt the tranquility of Heaven, but then his mind was shunted toward the present. Even though he could not feel Niccolo's hand on his shoulder, the contact was enough to bring Cadmus back to the memory of Räum's final struggle with Crocell. He could feel the fallen angel's disgust with himself as he fought his brother; Cadmus could feel his sadness as he struck out at the slayer and sunk his nails into the blue demon's flesh.

"Oh no," Cadmus said as the present started to burn away, as he realized who Räum had been during his life. Räum and Amon had created the prophecies, detailing how the Apocalypse would begin and creating their own version of the Book of Revelations. Cadmus could only shudder as he realized that he was about to inherit something beyond his understanding.

He lost consciousness as the future claimed his mind.

***

Niccolo watched his friend take turns curling into himself and lashing out, the reaping taking complete control of his body. He could not help Cadmus as he writhed and shook in the throes of pain and emotion, but eventually Niccolo jumped forward and held the reaper's shoulder in an effort to stop the Horseman from hurting himself. When Cadmus slumped to the ground, Niccolo crouched over him and was disturbed by what he saw.

Cadmus' grey irises had vanished, blue energy pouring out of his eyes, and the avatar of death was murmuring nonsense. Niccolo had heard the dialect only a few times since he had fallen to Hell, but he knew that it was the original angelic language. After a few moments of speaking the uncorrupted dialect, Cadmus closed his eyes and passed out.

"Cadmus! _Cadmus_!" Niccolo shouted while shaking the Horseman's unconscious body, but only after half a minute did Cadmus stir. The Horseman was even more pale than usual, and when his eyelids fluttered open, he was finally able to see Niccolo's worried face. As Cadmus lifted himself up, his friend helping him along the way, he tried to make sense of the things he had just seen. He did not know how reliable Räum's prophecies could be, but what he saw was enough to make him sick. The horrible scene flashed through his mind again, the disorientation causing him to turn over and retch once more.

"Are you alright?" Niccolo asked, rubbing his friend's back. He had never seen a reaping have this kind of effect on the Horseman.

"No, no, I'm not. Nico..." Cadmus said before turning to his young friend, despair etched on his face.

"Someone just... someone is going to murder Lucifer."

# Chapter 2: Past - Sons of Firenze

"Come back here, you rat!"

Niccolo opened his eyes and felt the sun's warmth on his face, the chaotic sounds of the street below assaulting his eardrums. The merchant's son had fallen asleep on the roof of his father's estate and his back promised aches and pains for the rest of the day. When he turned over, Niccolo felt like his mind was covered in mud, his thoughts sluggish and murky. He wondered how that had come to pass, but then he saw the empty wine skin and the few dark stains on the roof which told of the night before.

Niccolo groaned as he realized what had occurred. His friend Marco had convinced him to go out on the town and revel in being the only heir of Carlo Vespucci da Firenze, since Niccolo would no longer have that distinction in just a month. Niccolo smiled as he thought about his father's new family, but it retreated once his mind fell to memories of his mother.

The young man pawed at his chest to find the cross hanging there and then lifted it to his lips, kissing the warm metal. After a moment's prayer for the woman that had raised him, Niccolo picked himself up and then walked over to the stairs into the house. He had never been one for prayer, but his mother's faith was one of her dominating features. It felt appropriate to honor her piety since it allowed Niccolo to fool himself into thinking that she still existed, even if it was just in his mind and in his wishes.

Despite his fondness for his departed mother, Niccolo actually liked Allegra, Carlo's soon-to-be wife, as she had quite the sense of humor and was not particularly awful to look at. The young merchant's son could appreciate beauty in a woman, even if he would never be allowed to indulge in a more intimate setting with the blonde woman from the North. As he walked toward the stairs leading down from the roof, hazy memories of Marco's jests came back to Niccolo. He laughed when a vision came to his mind, his friend holding bags of grain under his tunic to imitate Allegra's natural endowments.

As the memories started to filter into Niccolo's consciousness, he became uneasy. He cursed himself for overindulging on the wine and tapped the side of his head as he walked down the stairs. There was something important that was just out of reach, and when he passed one of the servants, a horrible realization occurred.

The merchant's son ran out of the front door in a rush, raising quite the alarm among the servants.

"Young master, where are you going?" one of the maids shouted, but Niccolo did not have time to talk with the spinster. He almost knocked over a crate of oranges as he flew down the streets, and he only just missed colliding with a dog by jumping over a barrel. It was mid-morning in Firenze, so all the streets were packed with merchants and customers trying to get the best deals and sell their wares.

Niccolo turned into a side street in an effort to avoid the congestion and had to duck to avoid getting hit by clotheslines stretched across his path. After a few twists and turns of the serpentine alleyway, Niccolo found himself in an open square.

"Nico? What's the rush?" asked one of the vendors selling his wares as Niccolo sprinted across the marketplace.

"Can't talk now, Arturo! I have to do undo a mistake I don't remember!" Niccolo said with a wicked smile as he ran past the merchant, who was selling all kinds of cloth and thread from scratchy plain linens to expensive silks.

"Nico, you're too much trouble! Tell your father I'll get the shipment to him later," Arturo shouted as he looked back down at his stall. Niccolo only threw up a hand and glanced backward before waving.

"You'll probably see him first!" he shouted, turning back just in time to see a rickety cart holding bags of wheat getting pushed in front of him. He skidded to a halt, still bumping into the cart, but he was able to maneuver around after a second.

"Outta the way, kid!" commanded the burly man holding onto the handles, but Niccolo was already off and down another alley.

After ten more minutes of running, Niccolo finally found his way to the quiet Gherardini estate situated across town from his own. He gathered his breath and then looked around for some makeshift present he could make for his lady, but figured that she would see right through the ruse. As a result, Niccolo just walked around the gate and to the back of the house, sighing as he looked at the old tree nearby.

The merchant's son scaled the tree just like he had so many times in the past and was soon right outside the window of the second floor. Due to the heat of the summer sun, the window had been left open, which caused Niccolo to smile. He crouched, gathering his strength, and then leapt for the opening. His fingers wrapped around the edge of the windowsill, which was enough for the man to pull himself into the room and land on his ass.

"You're allowed to use the front door, Nico," a harsh voice came from above him. Niccolo looked up and found himself staring at the hard cheekbones and strong jaw of Antonio Gherardini. Having been caught red-handed, Niccolo was put into quite the position.

"I'm guessing you've climbed through many windows in your day, Master Gherardini. I'm sure you know how fun it is..." he said, his face drawn into a wicked smile. After a moment, Antonio's face broke into a slight smile of his own.

"It certainly is, but I also remember what happened after I climbed through my windows. As much as I like you, young Vespucci, my daughter will keep her innocence. You just have to wait," Gherardini said before heading toward the stairwell. "She's in her room. If I hear anything, Nico, your father will not be able to save you."

"He will not have to, Master Gherardini, I promise," Niccolo said, lying easily to the merchant. It was the first skill Niccolo had learned in his apprenticeship to his own father, who was more than adept at bending the truth. After seeing Antonio depart, Niccolo walked over to the room at the end of the hallway. He knocked, not caring if anyone else heard. At this point he had already been caught.

"Who is it?" a mid-ranged, feminine voice asked from the other side of the door.

"A curious party," Niccolo said, trying to keep his voice as charming as possible. It was only a few seconds before the door opened up with some force, the wind rustling against Niccolo's clothing, though he did not notice. The only thing he was able to observe was the beautiful girl on the other side of the threshold, her dark hair falling loosely past her olive-skinned shoulder.

"What are you doing out in the open, Nico?" the girl asked, grabbing the young man's shoulder and pulling him into the room before shutting it, standing against the frame as if to protect him from enemies.

"It's fine, Camilla, your father already caught me as I came in the window. I just had to promise him that you would maintain your innocence," Niccolo said with a wink, but the girl sighed at his actions.

"Well, it's too late for that, isn't it?" she said before Niccolo walked up to her, standing close enough to feel the heat coming from her body. She was wearing a light dress, the summer air too much for bundles of clothing. Niccolo just wanted to wrap his arms around her and sink his fingers into her skin, but he held off his urges for the moment.

"Everyone knows that you and I have been having our fun, Camilla. It's only a matter of time before our fathers give up their stubbornness and arrive at a reasonable compromise. It's just business at this point," the merchant's son said before caressing Camilla's face with his left hand. She looked up at him and Niccolo was drawn into her dark, brown eyes, wanting to do much more than caress her face.

"I know, but we must keep some appearances, at least. I want to wear white at the wedding. Do you want to make a liar out of me?" she asked before slipping out of his grasp and walking to her own window.

"I guess we shall maintain some semblance of dignity, my love. Now, I have something to ask you," he led on, which caused the girl to look at him over her shoulder.

"About tonight?" she asked, but Niccolo shook her head.

"No, no, the wedding will be fine. I'm sure you will be more beautiful than my father's new wife. No, this is about... last night." He hesitated before saying the words, drawing closer to the girl who was looking at him with skepticism. It was very important he did not let her on to his intentions.

"And what about it, young Vespucci?" she asked. "Did someone drink too much wine?"

"Perhaps, my love, perhaps," he said before closing his hand around hers and bringing it to his lips. "I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what we discussed last night."

"What we discussed?" Camilla asked, raising her brow and adopting an inquisitive stance.

"Yes."

"You were only here for a few moments before you and Marco ran away, obviously celebrating some sort of devil's game," she said, which allowed Niccolo to act defensive.

"It was my last day as the only child of Carlo Vespucci da Firenze! We had to do _something_ ," he said, playing at being offended.

"Of course, of course, this is what normal sons do when their fathers remarry," Camilla said before withdrawing her hand and then crossing her arms in front of her. Niccolo did his best to ignore the cleavage presented him, even if the woman's curves did not match his father's soon-to-be wife.

"I should think so," he said, struggling to maintain eye contact, "but I would like to know some of the other details of our conversation." Camilla glared at him, trying to figure out his game, but eventually sighed and sat down on her bed.

"Like I said, you weren't here for very long. You and Marco decided to wake up the neighbors, and my father, by shouting outside my window. You tried to climb up the tree but I convinced you out of it. Mostly...mostly you said nice things," she said with a smile, which brought confidence to the merchant's son.

"Nice things?" he asked as he started to sit down on the bed, but he was stopped by the girl's shaking head.

"Yes, quite nice things, but nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe less eloquent for the wine, but nothing that you haven't said before," she said, which caused Niccolo to smile, but then she continued, "which makes me wonder what it was you were hoping I _didn't_ hear."

"Oh, nothing like that," Niccolo said, trying to dismiss her skepticism. "It was only certain things about the wedding I was sworn not to talk about. You'll have to see it tonight." The merchant's son felt relieved that he had not ruined the surprise, but when he leaned down to kiss Camilla, she put her index finger on his lips.

"If I have to wait, so do you, young Vespucci. Now get out of here, before the servants talk even more," Camilla said before standing up and guiding Niccolo to the door. He pretended to be offended at the act, but when he was shoved out of her room, he only looked at her and smiled.

"It will be torture for both of us, Camilla," he said, but she merely shrugged at the statement.

"That will make it better."

***

"Marco, please tell me you have it," Niccolo said as he slapped his best friend in the face. The inebriated Fiorentino was still snoring after the strike, so Nico picked up a nearby vase of water and dumped its contents onto his face. Marco sputtered into consciousness and flailed out with his limbs, his elbow smacking into the merchant's son beside him.

"What was _that_ for?" he asked as he pushed himself away from Niccolo and put his back against the wall of his room.

"Do you have it, Marco?" Niccolo urged, which only caused the newly-awoken drunk to roll his eyes.

"You're going to need to be more specific, Nico. I have a wealth of _its_."

"The _ring_ ," Niccolo whispered, hoping that even God would not hear him. Marco looked confused for a moment before desperately looking through all of his pockets.

"I...I should..." he muttered before shoving his finger into the fabric of his trousers and bringing out a ball of lint. "Oh, that's not it..."

"Marco!" Nico shouted, about to strike his friend, but the drunk laughed and shook his head before reaching behind him and grabbing a small pouch from the table.

"Relax, you rotten bastard, I wouldn't lose this ring. At the very most I'd sell it to a discrete merchant," he said, which caused Niccolo to glare at him. Marco sighed with disgust before wiping his face with his hand. "Don't give me that look; I'd steal it back."

"It's important, Marco, I don't want to joke about it," Niccolo said as he sat on the bed and looked at his drunken friend. The lout was another merchant's son, but he had not bothered to stay in his father's good graces and had instead mired himself in a den of iniquity. Marco had a bit of Sicilian lineage, so his hair was curly and black, but the drunk had never left Firenze.

"Well, don't give it to someone known for liking, stealing and selling shiny things, my friend," Marco said before standing up and walking over to the other end of the room and grabbing a rag to wipe himself off.

"Marco..."

"You're _fine_ , Nico," he said before wiping off his face and turning to his serious friend. "The ring is fine. Camilla is fine. I'm hurt that you don't think about me in these circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Niccolo asked as he picked up his right leg to the bed and then drew it close. The question made his friend scoff with fake disgust.

"Wha...what circumstances? That you don't know is just more of an offense!"

"What are you talking about, Marco?"

"A date, my friend, a date! As in, I am missing one for the evening's festivities. What will it look like to show my face at your father's wedding and not have a pretty little woman on my arm?"

"You can always hire one," Niccolo said, but that only caused Marco to roll his eyes as he leaned up against the opposite wall.

"I would have to sell your dear ring, which, by the way, wouldn't even go for much. You're the son of a merchant, Nico; you can act like it every once in a while."

"She'd like it, Marco, and it's not about the money between us."

"Yes, yes, just between your _fathers_. I'm aware, my good friend. I listen to you complain about it regularly."

"Yes, well, the business should have been over and done with a long time ago. We have been sneaking away with each other for years," Niccolo said as he remembered the days he and Camilla had spent as children of Firenze. It would have been a surprise for things to work out any other way.

"I know, and while it makes you happy, I still disapprove."

"Disapprove?"

"Yes, young Vespucci, I disapprove! You are _virile_ , in the spring of your youth and you are choosing to abandon the most worthwhile of pursuits," Marco said as he straightened up and puffed out his chest.

"Oh please," Niccolo muttered, already knowing what Marco was getting at.

"You don't just settle down with the first girl you see, Nico. You must tend the fields and know which flowers are best suited for you."

"Perhaps I like my flower."

"Young friend, you know little of flowers."

"And _you_ do?" Niccolo asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I should think so."

"Then why does Marco not have a date to my father's wedding?" Niccolo asked, knowing his friend had not anticipated the trap, but also knowing he would find a way out of it. It only took a moment of hesitation before Marco gave him a wicked smile.

"I don't want one."

"You were _just_ talking about this, Marco," Niccolo started, but his friend, who still reeked of alcohol, stumbled closer and wagged his index finger in front of Niccolo's face.

"You did not let me finish, we started talking about shiny things and I got distracted. I did not want a date. I also did not want _you_ to have a date."

"What?"

"Yes!" Marco shouted as he stood back up. "I would need you to distract the...homely girls while I hunt for the best flowers."

"I could do that for you still, Marco," Niccolo said, but Marco gave him a disappointed look and sighed.

"But your _heart_ wouldn't be in it, Vespucci," he stated, causing Niccolo to shrug in response.

"I guess that's true." They sat there staring at each other for a moment before Marco shook his head and sat on the bed beside him.

"Others might feel threatened by a father's new wife, Nico. She could bear the man another son," he said, the light tone gone from his voice.

"A second son, Marco."

"Perhaps a _favored_ son, my friend," he said before turning and making eye contact with Niccolo.

"It will not be a problem. There are no issues between us. Not anymore."

"Not anymore?" Marco asked, but Niccolo just nodded toward the ring on the table. "Ah, he's the one letting you do it."

"They made their agreements and Camilla and I will be perfectly happy, Marco."

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing, Nico? It is the start of your life."

"You're right, Marco," Niccolo said as he looked down at his arm, which was itching terribly. He had been told to ignore the rash, but he scratched at it through his shirt before looking back at his friend. "It _is_ the start of my life." The sentiment brought a groan from the lout beside him, who breathed out heavily.

"The women of Firenze shall weep on that day, my friend. They shall weep."

"And you will be there to console them, Marco," Niccolo said, mischief in his eyes. Marco merely stared into the distance, smiling at his prospects.

"Of course, it is my duty as the best man."

***

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Niccolo said, raising his voice to address the crowd and only fumbling slightly over the words. It scarcely had an effect on the drunken revelry happening in the courtyard of the Vespucci estate. "Ladies and Gentlemen!" he shouted, trying to interrupt the laughter and whooping happening in front of him.

"Everyone, my son is trying to speak!" Carlo Vespucci declared from the other end of the courtyard. The older man was a bit heavier, wine and food had never been absent in his life, but otherwise held a great deal in common with his son across the room. They both had an angular nose and a strong jaw, but it could be said that Carlo had a kind face. No one had accused Niccolo of anything other than mischief.

"Thank you, father," Niccolo slurred as he raised his glass, which was filled halfway with expensive wine from another province. His father had spared no expense, and Niccolo had not spared any wine. He swayed as he stood, but his confidence got the better of him and he jumped onto a nearby table so all of the drunken visitors could see him clearly.

"Careful, Nico, I can only replace _some_ of the glassware," his father jested, giving him a wink, but Niccolo just shook his head.

" _Can_ is not really the word, now, is it, father?" he said before returning Carlo's wink. Niccolo straightened his posture and looked at all of the people who had come to celebrate his father's wedding.

"Now, we all know why we're here. We're here to celebrate my father's union to Allegra over there," he said before motioning to the well-endowed blonde woman sitting next to his father. Allegra was beautiful with soft features, coming from a northern province, and had caught Carlo's eye immediately. "Now, we can all talk about how beautiful Allegra is, especially behind my father's back," he said before grinning at his father, who merely shook his head, "but I think we all know why my father chose this woman to be his new bride."

"And no! It's not because she's pregnant or that her breasts are enormous!" he joked, causing the room to erupt into laughter.

"You can only look!" Carlo shouted as he stood out of his seat, his face bright and rosy. He leaned down to kiss his new wife on the cheek before sitting back down and looking skeptically at his son.

"Oh, hands off, I'm sure," Niccolo said as he brought up his wine glass again, the liquid swirling around as he moved. "I think we all know what my mother meant to my father."

"Just another voice to ignore!" came a shout from the crowd, which caused some of the more inebriated guests to giggle, but Niccolo ignored it.

"Before the fever took her, they were very happy. I was sad when she passed, but I know that my father lost someone very important to him. He was listless, sorrowful for a good number of years. Only now has he been able to move on. Only now has he been able to reclaim his happiness and become the man he was supposed to be. And for that," Niccolo said before making eye contact with his father's bride. "For that I will always be grateful to you, Allegra. And I will treat that child growing inside you as my own flesh and blood. You are my family, now."

There was silence for a moment as the crowd considered Niccolo's words, but Allegra stood up, her hand below her midsection as she lifted herself out of the chair.

"Thank you, Nico. I appreciate what you've said here. And I hope that is true, for I consider you my family, as well," Allegra said as she lifted her own glass. Niccolo smiled and waved his glass over the crowd.

"To family!" he shouted before bringing the wine to his lips and draining the glass in one motion. Cheers erupted as the crowd joined in and laughter erupted as the drunken guests got back out of hand. Niccolo stepped down from his table and waded into the crowd, which was full of all kinds of friends of the merchant Vespucci. He hoped that he would not miss the Tarantella, as it was always one of his favorite dances, but Niccolo had other things on his mind.

When he approached his father's table, the older man was looking at him with pride. Niccolo climbed up to the man's side and wondered what he should say to his father.

"Only look, Nico," Carlo said with a grin, which caused his son to laugh.

"I promise, father, I have no intention for otherwise."

"We both know that, son. Now, tell me," he said before pouring himself another glass of wine.

"Tell you what?" Niccolo said as his father finished pouring and then motioned to the empty glass in Niccolo's hand.

"Oh, don't be shy, boy, what did dear Camilla say?" Carlo asked as he grabbed at the wine glass and then poured a full glass for his son.

"Oh, I was hoping to speak to her after the wedding," Niccolo said, which caused his father to look at him with disapproval.

"Nico, did I not raise you right? This wedding is the perfect time! Romance, my boy, is in the air. Strike while the iron is hot, as they say," Carlo said before turning to his smiling wife and lightly slapping her on the thigh.

"Perhaps you struck a little too quickly, father," Niccolo teased, which brought a glare from Carlo.

"Careful, Nico, you might not be the only son after this month."

"Good! You'll have someone else to teach your lessons. You do go on incessantly, father," Niccolo said before winking.

"You should listen to your father, Nico," Allegra said, which caused both men to look at her, "if only to spare my child the brunt of his silly lessons."

"Oh, we'll have to teach you about manners, wife," Carlo said, but Allegra just shrugged and looked around the room.

"This seems to be a poor place for them, dear," she said with a slight smile before turning to her new stepson. "He is right, though."

"He is?" Nico asked before he filled his mouth with wine.

"A wedding is quite romantic. And I saw her earlier, Nico. She is stunning."

"Ah, but then how will I find the words, Allegra?" Niccolo teased, but Allegra just brought her hand to her husband's face.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Neither you nor your father ever want for words," she said before kissing Carlo, who looked to be the happiest man in the room. After the kiss, Niccolo's father turned to him and nodded.

"It has been a long time coming, son. I am sorry about that," he said before taking his wife's hand in his own. Niccolo smiled at his father's happiness and then bowed.

"Don't be sorry, father. A merchant should learn patience, after all. I'll leave you two to your celebrations," he said before backing away from his father and then turned to the crowd, which had somehow become rowdier. He dived into the mass of people and tried to avoid some of the more unbalanced individuals, looking for his friend.

After a few moments of gracefully avoiding collisions with party guests, he found Marco with his arm around a plain girl with a large nose. When Marco finally noticed his friend, he lifted his arm and jumped to the new arrival.

"Some nice words, young friend. Nice words, indeed. But see, now, what happens when you don't take the homely girls," Marco said before nodding behind him.

"You end up with the homely girls?" Niccolo asked with a hint of mischief, to which his friend nodded.

"I end up with the homely girls, Nico. That is what happens."

"Try harder, Marco, there are plenty of other women here, and the wine is certainly flowing," Niccolo said as he waved his hand across the courtyard, displaying the hedonism rampant at the Vespucci Estate.

"You have a point, Niccolo, but I'm putting in some work on this little one just in case as a...backup plan."

"You can't be serious..." Niccolo muttered, but Marco grabbed his friend by the chin and nodded.

"A man is only wealthy if he sows many seeds."

"You might want to be careful about the soil, Marco. Anyway," Niccolo said before brushing away his friend's arm and then extended his left hand. "that's not the issue right now. You have the ring?" he asked, which caused Marco to shake his head again.

"As your best man, I'm saying it's a mistake," Marco said as he brought out the ring from his right pocket and then dropped the pouch into Niccolo's hand.

"If I wasn't doing this, you wouldn't _be_ a best man. Now wish me luck. I've heard tell of a stunning merchant's daughter around here," he said before smiling at the perpetually drunk man. Marco returned the smile and then motioned toward the second floor.

"You don't need luck, Nico. And she's up on the second floor. I don't know about stunning, though..." he said before looking at his friend and sighing. "She's gorgeous, my friend. You've had too much luck already."

"Here's to more of it, Marco," Niccolo said as he moved past his friend and patted him on the shoulder. Niccolo swam through the crowd of drunken guests and, once reaching the stairwell, leapt up the stairs two at a time, only catching his breath once he made it to the second floor. He wandered around for a moment, considering his words, but eventually walked over to the balcony after stowing the ring into his pocket. What he saw was enough to destroy the words in his mind.

Bathed in moonlight, Camilla Gherardini stood with her arms resting on the railing, a crimson dress draping over her figure. The fabric had been tailored to the young woman, hugging to the curves of her hips and legs and flowing to the ground in cascades of red. When the breath escaped from Niccolo's mouth, Camilla turned and smiled at him, showing her teeth absent rot or imperfections. Niccolo had to stop himself from staring at the girl's cleavage, which the dress had somehow manipulated into even more of a distraction.

"I'm offended that you did not come to greet me, Nico," Camilla said as she turned and put her back to the railing, allowing Niccolo to drink in the sight. The girl's hair was done up in an elegant headdress, but Niccolo could not stop looking at her face long enough to notice. He walked up to her and pretended like he still had his confidence.

"Like we agreed, it was supposed to be torture, my love," he said before taking the girl in his arms.

"Then I guess we must keep waiting in order to make it better," she said before putting her finger on his lips once more.

"I'm tired of waiting, Camilla," Niccolo said, unable to stop the smile breaking through his calm exterior.

"Oh, I love it when you're frustrated Nico, but there is only one way out of this."

"And what is that, my love?" he asked before withdrawing out of her arms, knowing where the conversation was heading.

"You must tell me this secret of yours," she said before placing her arms across her abdomen and clasping her hands together, complementing the act with a soft smile.

"Then I guess I must," Niccolo said before smiling and withdrawing the pouch from his pocket. Camilla watched him with scrutiny, but once he opened the pouch and brought out the simple golden band, her face filled with surprise. "A simple trinket, but for me it means so much more."

"Nico..."

"Camilla, this was always supposed to happen, but our fathers were stubborn about the arrangement. Just two days ago, I brought them together and pleaded to take your hand. And, from this ring, I think you can tell what happened."

"Camilla, will you be my wife? Will you make me as happy as Allegra has made my father? Will you finally let our story begin?" Niccolo asked as he smiled at the dark-haired beauty in the red dress.

"Nico... you know that woman has nothing on me," she said as she took the man into her arms and kissed him passionately. After a moment of embrace, he withdrew and then grabbed her left hand before setting the ring onto her finger.

"I know. But her breasts..." He teased before she slapped him.

"Why must you be a pig?"

"Why must you be perfect?" he asked before drawing her into another kiss, the moon shining on their embrace.

Niccolo Vespucci had never been happier.

***

The merchant's son woke up in his own bed and groaned as the headache set in. Niccolo was used to drinking in excess, but his father's wedding had been a special occasion. Luckily, the young man did not drink enough to lose his memory. That was the one thing he did not want to lose; he wanted to keep that vision of Camilla in that red dress for the rest of his life.

He rolled over in his bed and realized that the young woman was nowhere to be found. It was expected, but he wished that her warm body was still entwined with his. Niccolo's thoughts returned to their embrace in the moonlight and the dancing in the courtyard. From within his own mind he breathed in her scent and thought of all the things they would experience and the moments they would share. His whole future was in front of him and he could not wait for it to start.

Niccolo felt an itch on his arm and scratched at his sleeve, but almost immediately pain set in. His head was groggy, but there was no reason that he should feel such pain, so he sat up in his bed. Niccolo wiped the sleep from his eyes before drawing back his sleeve, trying to find the source of the pain. He was only able to roll back the sleeve halfway up his arm before it was too tight to continue, so in a hurry he rolled it down and then took off the entire shirt. In the process the sleeve seemed to stick to his arm, and when he pulled on it, a stinging sensation followed. When he was finally able to look at his arm, he sank into despair.

The rash that had been on his arm for the last few days had spread along his arm, but worst of all the skin seemed to be peeling away, exposing the lesions underneath. There were five different patches near the elbow on his upper arm where the skin had been ripped away with the shirt, the skin around it puckering and gasping for life. Niccolo's face was filled with horror as he realized that some strain or sickness had claimed his arm.

He ran over to the dresser nearby, knocking over a bedside table and scattering glasses and bottles to the ground, and grabbed at a loose piece of clothing. It turned out to be a linen tunic, and he wrapped the material around his arm before grabbing at some twine, trying to keep the cloth in place. Niccolo was panicking as he realized that he had every potential to be cast out to the streets to live among the lepers. It was no place for a merchant's son, but with his new wife, Carlo might not need him anymore.

Niccolo sat on his bed and despaired, feeling lost in his own home.

#  Chapter 3: Life after Death

"You saw Scratch die?" Niccolo asked, watching his friend struggle for a moment before leaning down and helping Cadmus to his feet.

"Among...other things, yes. The palace was on fire, Dis was in chaos, then it...ah!" the reaper recounted before he bent over and held the sides of his head, his face the picture of anguish. In his mind swirled a thousand possibilities of things to come, but the violence was the most distracting. He saw it all over again, the destruction of the palace and the sprawled-out body of Lucifer.

"He...he was fighting something, it looked like a shadow, but then he was...someone stabbed him in the back. The person was wearing," Cadmus explained before horror took over his face, before he straightened up and looked his friend in the eye. "They wore a dark cloak."

"Cadmus..." Niccolo muttered, but as the idea bounced around in his head, he realized what Cadmus was thinking. "Oh, stop it; it wasn't you."

"It could be..." the reaper said before breathing out, but Niccolo grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him.

"It's not, Cadmus, you would never do that to Scratch! Snap out of it!" he shouted. "It was just a guy in a cloak, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, here's some news for you, you're not the only one who wears a cloak."

"But..."

"And you said that it was all blurry and chaotic, right? It could easily mean _nothing_ ," Niccolo explained, his voice starting to tense up at the possibility that it meant everything. Cadmus seemed to break out of his daze and leaned down to grab his scythe where he had dropped it. When he stood back up, he looked at Niccolo with despair.

"Almost everything was blurry, but Lucifer was not. Someone killed him."

"Well, shit, like right now? Do you know what time it is? Can we stop it?" Niccolo asked, his mind racing at the thought that his father figure was about to be murdered. Cadmus looked to the palace rising out of the center of Dis and shook his head.

"That," he said as he pointed, "was definitely on fire during the...vision." Biting his lip, Cadmus looked back at his friend and slouched slightly. "We have some time to figure this out."

"Well, we go and tell Scratch what's going on, then!" Niccolo said as he shouted out instructions to the dormant entity in his mind, causing a green mist to appear in front of him.

"Don't be so hasty! I've never dealt with a reaping like this. It could be something entirely different," he urged as a horse coalesced from the mist and stood next to Niccolo. The beast was a fearsome creature, its sleek black coat interrupted by diseased patches of green tissue, and it almost seemed to gaze into their souls with its emerald eyes. A green fog seemed to issue from both the eyes and the horse's mouth, but neither Niccolo nor Cadmus was alarmed by its appearance. Niccolo merely used the stirrups attached to the grey saddle to leap onto its back.

"We need to warn him, Cadmus."

"Need to warn him about what? I was asleep," a baritone voice echoed from the ether, but the Horsemen knew who was speaking. Niccolo just lowered his human hand to the horse's mane and ran his fingers through the black hair.

"Cadmus just got a vision of Scratch dying, getting stabbed in the back," Niccolo said as he grabbed the reins with his maimed hand.

"Since when do you get visions, Horseman?" the voice asked as the beast turned its attention to Cadmus.

"A side effect of reaping one of the Fallen, Plague. I don't know if we can trust it entirely, though."

"Why the hell not? You said you get their memories," Niccolo said as he shifted in the saddle, but Cadmus frowned as he rubbed his forehead with his left hand.

"Nico, I've _never_ had to deal with this kind of power. It's a whole new game. I want to talk to Buné, first."

"Just _who_ did you reap? I've never heard of this before," Plague asked, his eyes narrowing at the question.

"Räum," Cadmus said as he worried the handle of his scythe with both hands, looking down at the corpse just fifteen feet away.

"What? That's..." Plague said as he turned to look at the broken demon, the gruesome exit wound from Crocell's assault still weeping dark blood on the cobblestones. "What happened?"

"He went feral," Niccolo said tersely, frustrated that his horse was taking so long to understand the situation. In his mind he expressed his annoyance, but the horse disregarded Niccolo's efforts and focused on working through his own thoughts.

"That's...you think you've seen everything," Plague muttered before turning to Cadmus. "Summon Mercy, we're going now."

"We can't bother Lucifer with this right now, he's preparing for the Council. I really want to talk to Buné first," Cadmus started, but Plague neighed and then stamped his front leg.

"That's _exactly_ what we're going to do. Buné will know whether or not we can trust this memory from Räum. I'm assuming we have some time," Plague said with a note of annoyance, but Cadmus merely breathed out in relief as he tapped the end of his scythe against the cobblestones, dust gathering around them in response.

"Thank God, you're reasonable. I didn't want to fight the both of you," he said as the dust built on itself and formed into another horse, which looked expectantly to its rider with eyes missing irises.

"We were not made to listen blindly to humans, Cadmus," a rasp came from the pure white horse that had been born out of dust. Cadmus grabbed at the black saddle and hoisted himself up, his leap far more graceful than anything Niccolo could hope for.

"I know, old friend, I know. I'm guessing you were listening," the reaper asked as he grabbed at the reins of his mount.

"Of course. I have eternity to waste and so very little to fill the time," Mercy rattled while he walked to the far alleyway, stepping around the corpse of Räum. Plague and Niccolo followed, the Horseman grunting when he heard the statement.

"Why can't you listen like that?" he asked as they reached the alleyway and headed to the main road.

"Should I bother, little man? You so rarely say anything worth listening to," Plague said as they exited the alleyway, turning toward the Death Quarter.

"Why are you so difficult?" he asked, which brought a light chuckle from his mount.

"Didn't you know? We take after our riders. You'll have to stop being difficult first."

"That'll be something. We'd have to prepare for winter," Cadmus muttered to Mercy, who broke into a light gallop toward their home.

***

_Stop worrying_ , Plague's voice echoed, breaking through the thoughts in Niccolo's mind. He shook his head as the wind whipped through his hair, pulling it back enough to expose his face. The leprosy had turned into an entirely different malady once he had landed in Hell. It had maimed his skin, pushing the tissue of his brow and cheek together to obscure his left eye and rendering it useless. Luckily, due to the nature of souls in Hell, Niccolo was able to see without it. It had surprised him at first, but since his fall, his eyesight was better than it ever had been on Earth. The Horseman only thought about it for a moment before he drew the hair back to cover the left side of his face and looked toward Buné's spire rising above the horizon.

_I can't help it,_ he thought, relying on their telepathic connection. The Horsemen held a special bond with their mounts, allowing them to speak to each other without having to worry about biting their tongue or not being able to hear the conversation. As he sank into despair, Niccolo observed the demons walking through the streets of the Death Quarter. They were gaunt and macabre, dressed in black and grey garments, sadness playing out through their thin, human features which they stubbornly refused to abandon; the only samples of color belonged to visitors to Death's domain. It was no wonder that Cadmus spent most of his time outside of the district.

_The future is not entirely written, Nico, and if Räum went feral there's no way to tell if the information is reliable,_ Plague thought, his mind unburdened by the exertion of galloping through the streets of Dis.

_I just can't...I can't lose him, Plague. I don't know what I'd do,_ Nico despaired as he buried his face against his horse's mane.

_I know, Nico, but it's not the end of the world. You have me; you have Cadmus. Whatever problems lie ahead aren't entirely insurmountable. I need you to remember that_ , Plague urged as he started to slow down, the gates to Buné's spire in front of them and open to everyone. The fallen angel, the ruler of the Death Quarter, appreciated visitors.

Funny choice of words.

_What?_ Plague asked as he stopped at the entrance of the spire, looking back to his rider with a green eye.

"It could actually _be_ the end of the world," Niccolo muttered before raising his leg over his horse and sliding off.

"What did you say?" Cadmus asked as he jumped off of Mercy and approached his friend. Niccolo just sighed and looked back at Plague before shrugging.

"Don't worry about it; it wasn't for you. Now, try to listen in on this conversation, you bastard. I don't want to explain everything to you," he said as he pointed at Plague, who stiffened at the disciplinary tone.

"Make sure I don't have to explain everything to _you_ ," Plague said as the fog coming from his eyes billowed out in his annoyance shortly before his shape disappeared, leaving behind a cloud of green mist. _But know that I'm always here for you_.

_I know. I count on it_ , Niccolo thought before turning back to his fellow Horseman. The two of them walked toward the massive double doors, black metal bars interspersed with stained glass. Neither reacted as Mercy collapsed into dust and the wind scattered his remains.

"Let me do the talking," Cadmus said as he pushed on the left door, the heavy thing moving slowly. Niccolo breathed in deeply before looking at his friend.

"You know that's not going to happen."

Cadmus rolled his eyes before walking into the waiting area, after which Niccolo followed. A marvel of gothic architecture, the inside of the spire was built with high, vaulted ceilings and grotesque gargoyles scattered around the pillars supporting the inside of the spire. Niccolo was looking at one of them before it dropped from its perch and then fluttered away on tiny wings, which caused the Horseman to wonder how it was able to fly at all. The falling creature drew his gaze down toward the demon sitting at the table on the far end of the hallway.

Buné had maintained his human form like Lucifer, but the fallen angel had a healthy amount of blonde hair on his head and his face was perpetually stern, the hard lines of his cheekbones giving no chance for levity. His head was the only part of him that was exposed, however, as he was dressed in dark grey plate mail. The pauldrons were the only decorated parts of his armor, one shaped like a griffin's head and the other a lion. Any other visitor to his home would be intimidated by the former angel, but the Horsemen had known him for too long.

"Boys, how are you doing today?" he asked without looking up from the scrolls on his desk. Whenever Cadmus returned from a reaping, the two of them would go through the lists of demons to account for their loss. Buné usually prepared the scrolls for when his student returned.

"We have a problem, Buné," Niccolo said as he walked toward the angel, purpose leading his steps. This caused the older demon to look up from the scrolls and stare hard into Niccolo's face. If Buné had not already spent a couple of centuries doing just the same thing, Niccolo might have felt a chill.

"Is there any hope that you could learn some tact, Nico? Things are not so urgent in Hell, after all. We could catch up; we could even talk about Fafnir."

"Fafnir's...dead," Niccolo said softly, his voice darker at the thought.

"Oh, I...probably should have known that. Here I go talking about tact and then..." Buné said as he brought his hands together and pursed his lips. "I'm...sorry," he said awkwardly, any appearance of intimidation now destroyed.

"Not your fault," Niccolo said with a note of sadness, but he soon abandoned his grief and walked up to the table, setting his hands on the dark wood. "But that's not why we're here."

"I had a reaping," Cadmus said as he approached the table, coming to stand at the other end and using his scythe to prop himself up.

"That's somewhat expected from your position, Cadmus," Buné said, leaning back in his plain, wooden chair. The old demon had no use for excess.

"Not exactly a normal one," Niccolo said as he picked up a scroll, reading through the demonic text and finding it indecipherable. He had tried to learn the corrupted dialect back when he had first gotten to Hell, but he had never tried to become fluent. Everyone spoke Common, anyway, which could have been described as Hell's version of Latin. It tended to evolve as more souls fell to the Inferno.

"It was Räum, Buné. He went feral," Cadmus said as he scratched the side of his face and looked back up to his mentor, whose eyes were filled with alarm.

"R-Räum? Are you sure?" the demon said as he leaned forward and set his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

"Crocell had to kill him. I'm sorry," the Pale Rider said, knowing what this meant to the old demon. The Fallen held a common bond; the loss of one was like losing family.

"Damn this sickness. Damn it," the armored demon said as he looked up and set his elbows on the table, supporting his chin with his overlapped hands. "It must be chaos in your head right now. Did you see Heaven, boy? Might be the only time you have the chance."

"No...I think I almost did, but...no," the reaper said, gripping his scythe tightly as memories started to resurface. His voice faltered as he made eye contact with his mentor. "What I saw was not good, Buné."

"Tell me," the old demon urged, his voice low and serious. Cadmus' mentor was not the type to be shaken easily.

"How reliable were Räum's prophecies?" Niccolo asked, trying to take some of the burden from his friend. The fallen angel's eyes narrowed, but he kept eye contact with his student.

"Some came to pass. The problem with looking into the future is that it is unreliable. It's like trying to write the history of what might happen. You inherited his sight, Cadmus?" he asked, breathing deliberately and trying to keep his head clear. The reaper nodded, only just maintaining his poise.

"Possibly. I know that I can inherit thoughts or desires just as easily as a demon's powers and Räum's been around for just as long as you and the others..."

"Enough. Tell me what you saw," Buné commanded, rising to his feet and staring down at his, relatively, young apprentice. Cadmus breathed in deeply and stood to his full height.

"I saw someone murder Lucifer."

"How?" Cadmus flinched at the question.

"He...stabbed in the back. Some person in a...dark cloak," he said, hesitating at the word, "the palace was on fire..." When the visions came back to him, a splitting headache raged through his mind, causing the Horseman to grimace in pain. Buné walked around the table and set his gauntlet on the rider's shoulder.

"It wasn't you. I know that's what you're thinking, but you wouldn't do that. And, honestly," he said before breathing deeply and looking at the floor, "Lucifer would destroy you easily. You're just human."

"Listen, you two, don't go to Lucifer with this," he started, but Niccolo slammed the table with his human arm.

"Are you kidding me? We need to tell him!" he shouted, but Buné gave him an icy glare.

"Do you think this is the first time that Lucifer's been in danger? He's been the ruler of Hell for two million years. I can think of a hundred plots against his life off the top of my head," he explained, but Niccolo walked forward and pointed at him with his diseased index finger.

"That doesn't mean this one couldn't work," he said, but the old demon slapped away the Horseman's hand.

"It's only a potential outcome, Nico. Like Cadmus said, this could possibly have just been some fantasy or thought that he inherited from Räum. It isn't necessarily out of the question; the crow was never the biggest fan of Lucifer."

"Still!"

"I'm _not_ saying we won't keep an eye on it. If the palace manages to burst into flames, I'm going to be there as fast as I can, I guarantee it," he said as he placed his hands on Niccolo's shoulders. "Trust me, I've known Lucifer much longer than you; I'm rather invested in his continued existence."

"He just has too much on his plate right now. The Council of Kings is tomorrow, I know Paimon has already arrived, and Lucifer needs to focus entirely on that. Every one of the kings has the potential to oust him from power and I know for a fact that they're not happy. This feral demon problem extends beyond Dis, Horsemen," he said before taking his hands off of Niccolo and glancing back to Cadmus. "The Reapers in the other provinces are just as, if not more, busy than you."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Cadmus asked, setting his chin on the top of his scythe. Buné sighed as he sat on the table and ran his gauntlet through his hair.

"Watch. Just make sure nothing completely out-of-place happens. I doubt that any demon who could be involved with this would bother talking to you, and you don't want to offend them by pushing it. You're humans in the world of demons. Being Horsemen offers you some advantages, but if, and I do mean _if_ ," he emphasized the word by pointing at each human in turn, "this is a real threat, any investigation is only going to make these conspirators more careful."

"What about the cloaked man? If we found out who it was," Niccolo started, but Buné shook his head.

"Räum's vision, if it was one, could be entirely wrong. Amon was always much more reliable when it came down to the details, Räum could just see further and, really, his visions were hunches more than anything. The cloak could just mean that he didn't know who was doing it." Silence filled the room after that statement, neither Horseman wanting to argue with the demon further.

"Lucifer has Azazel and the Hell Knights watching his back, boys. Even if a cloaked figure got past them, they would have a hell of a fight on their hands when they got Lucifer's attention. And _we_ ," Buné said before looking at each former human, "will be paying attention. If the palace _does_ come under attack, we will be ready. We'll wait..."

"This is absurd," Niccolo muttered, but Buné slapped the table with his hand.

"We wait! When the Council is done, we'll have plenty of time to bother Lucifer. _Try_ to stay out of trouble. I know it's not exactly something the two of you are used to doing, but we don't want to garner any attention. Now get going," the fallen angel said as he stood up. "I have to make some arrangements for Räum. The Fallen will be disappointed if we don't honor our brother."

"Thank you, master," Cadmus said as he backed away from the old demon. "We'll do what we can," he promised before turning and heading toward the entrance. Niccolo grunted, but did not add anything to their departure. He just grabbed his belt and walked beside the reaper. When they got outside, Plague's voice broke into his mind.

_That's just horseshit, and I should know,_ the voice echoed, which caused Niccolo's brow to furrow.

_Glad you agree_ , he thought before turning to Cadmus, who was looking at him out of his periphery.

"So we're going to tell Lucifer, right?" the reaper asked, tapping his scythe against the steps to summon Mercy.

"Sometimes I think you can read my mind," Niccolo said before Plague appeared in a burst of green mist. Cadmus laughed briefly before leaping onto the solidified dust of his horse.

"You wear your thoughts on the outside, my friend. Let's go," he said as Niccolo jumped onto his horse. They started galloping through the streets just as he finished the statement.

***

They were just outside the palace gates, which were as imposing as always, when they noticed a hunched-over demon walking down the path. Niccolo noticed the black feathers and beak and instantly jumped off of Plague, who dissolved immediately. When Niccolo landed, he rolled in order to disperse the momentum, allowing him to get to his feet easily.

"Damn it, Nico," Cadmus cursed softly behind him, but Niccolo had no patience for his friend's criticism. He walked over to the demon with the raven head, stopping when he was within a yard of the creature.

"Amon," he said, his voice low and sympathetic. The bird turned to look at him, the eyes narrowing as it tried to recognize him, but after a moment its head twitched to the side. When the demon opened its beak lined with pink gums, Niccolo could see the wolf's teeth that made Amon so fearsome.

"Horseman, it has been some years since we last spoke. How are you?" the bird asked as he brought up his skinny, scaled fingers of both hands and interlaced them, the sleeves of his brown robe falling to hide them from plain sight. The bird's face seemed to be annoyed.

"I'm...fine. I'm more worried about you," Niccolo said in a rare display of compassion. Amon had never been especially kind to the Horseman, but Niccolo decided to ignore that fact. The demon had lost his brother this day and, in some small way, he could sympathize with him.

"Worried about me? This is a rare occasion. No one ever worries for the Fallen, anymore," Amon said, his head twitching to the side as he spoke. It seemed that along with the raven's head, the demon had inherited some other birdlike qualities. While the two conversed, Cadmus approached them, trying not to interrupt.

"Well, I was there when...Räum..." the leper started to explain, but almost immediately the bird's eyes narrowed and he looked down toward the cobblestones of the pathway.

"Oh, yes, I see. A rotten business," he said before looking back up and then twitching over to the reaper. "Of course you were there. The two of you are never far from each other."

"I'm sorry, Amon," Cadmus said as he came within speaking distance.

"For what? Your duty? Don't be sorry, Horseman. We Fallen owe you gratitude for dispatching our brother. I'm ashamed that he had become so beastly and that he had become your problem," Amon said, sadness seemingly absent from his words. It was almost as if he had no attachment to his brother.

"I'm still sorry," Cadmus insisted, which drew a stare from the avian demon.

"That is appreciated, child, but quite unnecessary. You only claimed his soul. The one who did the slaying was Crocell. I..." he hesitated as he thought about the slayer, "I cannot even blame our brother. Räum always had a weak constitution. When we told the prophecies, he would fade in and out. Although it was unfortunate he had become a beast, it was not entirely...unexpected," he explained, twitching at the last word.

"You speak as if you're not even sad he's gone," Niccolo said under his breath, but immediately the fallen angel stepped up and bared his wolf's teeth.

"Insolent little wretch. Don't you dare accuse me of not caring! He was my twin! I have lost half of my _world_!" he shrieked, the feathers on his neck flaring out in his anger. After a moment, the demon regained himself and stepped back from Niccolo.

"I am sorry. It is...difficult to speak of such things with young souls. I speak with such...detachment," he said, twitching at each hesitation and glaring at the leper, "because I have had more than enough time with my brother. When faced with eternity, death itself almost becomes...appealing. To be completely honest, children, I am somewhat jealous of my brother. It is only tempered by the fact that Räum had fallen so far from grace, even if we have all fallen in our own way," the demon trailed off while turning his gaze to the street, clearly affected by memories of the past.

"I didn't mean to offend," Niccolo stated, which brought the raven's head back up to look at him.

"I did not mean to react in such a way. Forgiveness shall be a mutual endeavor. Now, Horsemen," he said before ruffling his feathers and starting to walk away from the palace, "I have errands to attend to. Räum left quite a few tasks unfinished."

"Amon, can we talk to you for a moment?" Niccolo blurted out, causing the demon to turn slowly with confusion displayed through his avian features.

"Child, I believe we just did."

"I wanted to extend my sympathies, first, but we have another matter to discuss," the Horseman stated, which caused Amon to walk back toward the two humans.

"Whatever could you have to discuss with me, Horsemen?" he asked with annoyance, looking between the two riders.

"It's about Räum," Niccolo said, which caused Cadmus to grunt in disapproval, knowing what the leper was hoping to accomplish.

"Speak plainly, child, the Fallen are not accustomed to the games of humans."

"The reaping was quite the ordeal," Cadmus offered, stepping forward and claiming his role in the demon's passing. "I'm sure you know what happens when a reaper takes a soul."

"Go on." Amon's gaze was unflinching, which caused Cadmus to shift his weight nervously.

"Räum's memories were...rather overwhelming. I'm somewhat ashamed to say that it drove me from consciousness for some time," Cadmus explained, which brought a shrug from Amon.

"Forgive me, but I'm not surprised that you were overwhelmed by the inheritance. You've only existed for a millennium, correct? Millions of years of memories could have driven you insane. I'm sure things will surface for centuries, Rider. In truth, I'm impressed that you're standing right now," Amon stated. "If that's all..."

"I inherit the powers of the slain, Amon," Cadmus interrupted, getting impatient with the demon. The raven's head twitched at the statement and he stared hard into the reaper's grey eyes. Amon walked forward until he was within a few feet of the Horseman and almost seemed to smile.

"How interesting...I did not know that, reaper. Are you implying you have inherited the future sight?" he asked, but Cadmus shook his head at that.

"No, Amon, but in a flash I was able to see the future, or at least what Räum had seen in his visions."

"And what did you see?" Amon asked, inching closer to the reaper.

"I...that's not what we need to ask about."

"Tut, tut, Horseman, this game will not be so one-sided," Amon stated, just slightly baring his wolf's teeth.

"First," Cadmus said, backing away and bringing his scythe in front of him, trying to ward off the raven's aggressive behavior. "First I need to know how to interpret it."

"You should tell me what it was, Horseman," the demon's head twitched as it made the suggestion, but Cadmus shook his head.

"Would it be reliable, Amon? Anything I saw? Or could it just be something that Räum wanted to happen? Could it just be some demented fantasy? Would it be reliable even if it was just a vision?" Cadmus asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the black eyes of the demon. Niccolo started to walk toward Amon's side, in case the fallen wanted to attack his friend. His wariness was averted when the raven's mouth opened and a nasal laugh issued forth.

"Oh, so many questions from the child. How _interesting_!" he squawked before pacing back and forth in front of the Horseman. "To tell you the truth, reaper, this is all such a novel concept. Almost...no, I shouldn't consider that," he muttered as he paced. After a moment he looked back to Cadmus, his wolf's teeth showing in a wide smile.

"To answer these questions of yours, Räum did have a habit of daydreaming. My brother was bored with the present and would often create alternate realities in his head. It was a boon to him after the Fall. He could vividly recall Paradise. However, I will say this: my brother was serious about his visions. They were not as detailed as mine," he bragged, which brought a scoff from Niccolo.

"Quiet, child. Whatever patience I have for you will soon be at its end," Amon said with a glare.

"I'm sorry, it's just that the way you're speaking," he started, but Amon's feathers ruffled out as he snapped his beak in Niccolo's direction.

"Do you know how hard it is to tell the future, boy? It is wading through a sea of interweaved threads and only one is correct! That I'm able to tell any of it apart is a matter of skill and pride. You have no idea how much of a headache _you_ are!" he shouted, turning toward Cadmus, determined to think on the reaper's questions, but Niccolo was not finished.

"I barely said anything," the Horseman said, getting impatient with Amon's behavior. The raven was always short with him.

"It's not what you _say_ , leper, it's _you_ ," the raven spat out, twitching at the remark. "You're the only Horseman whose fate is...difficult to interpret."

"What?" Niccolo asked, curious as to what Amon was getting at.

"Are you serious? Do you not know the fate that goes along with your position?" the demon asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What fate?"

"You don't _have_ one, Horseman," Amon said with annoyance. "Each one of you has their role in the scriptures. Cadmus is to be the reaper, Ajax will spread warfare all over the planet and Diogenes will cause sloth among the peasants. Their roles are defined. Your fate is... nebulous. Your predecessor's story was set to pass without the smallest complication, but you..." Amon trailed off before shaking his head. "You're one of the few people I cannot anticipate."

"Enough!" Cadmus shouted to the two, losing the air of respect he had tried to cultivate. Amon turned to him slowly and looked at him with those black eyes, a cold anger taking the place of his annoyance. "Niccolo, just shut up, we have more important things to discuss," he said while maintaining eye contact with the raven. "How can I interpret your brother's visions?" Amon almost gave into his fury at the question, but he calmed down before regarding Cadmus in a cold manner.

"They are reliable. The details might be slightly off, Räum was given to suggestions, but there is a good chance that what you saw will come to pass. Now, Horseman, I must _insist_ ," he said as he came within a foot of the reaper, his wolf teeth only inches away from Cadmus, "what was my brother's last vision?"

"I had to kill a friend, Amon. I wanted to know if I could avoid it," the reaper lied easily. He was not going to be intimidated by the fallen any longer. With his head twitching from side to side, Amon regarded the statement for a moment, but eventually he backed away and sighed.

"Well, this is something you may avoid. If you are in the vision, if you can place yourself _within_ the vision, then you have the ability to stop it. But Horseman," he said as he turned to look at Niccolo with cold eyes, "you may not want to."

"I leave you children to your devices," Amon said as he turned and started to walk away from the palace. "Though we are not finished. We will have to speak more at a later time."

The Horsemen watched the demon depart, not willing to say a word until he was out of earshot, but after Amon disappeared beyond a ridge they looked at each other with concern playing across their expressions. Niccolo broke the silence first.

"Now we _have_ to tell him."

***

Niccolo pushed open the door to the throne room and was alarmed to see a woman in a golden dress talking to Lucifer. The woman was alarmingly beautiful, with wavy, golden hair reaching down to her shoulder blades. She looked over to the new arrivals with a coy smile, the red of her lips making her seem even more enticing.

"Now Cadmus I recognize, but who is this other one? Is this your Niccolo?" she asked before turning to the ruler of Hell.

"And how could you tell?" Lucifer asked before looking at the Horsemen. Niccolo's face was flustered underneath his ratty hair, but he did not look down in reverence like Cadmus behind him.

"You did speak of his poor manners," she purred as she walked over to the leper. The slits along the sides of her dress allowed her pale legs to peek through with each step and the material fit so tightly that Niccolo could make out every curve of her anatomy. He did his best to maintain eye contact with the woman, but that was even more disconcerting. The woman's eyes were completely white.

"That is his main problem, though Cadmus usually helps with that," Lucifer said as he moved from his position near the shifting throne, setting his left thumb between his hip and the cloth covering his lower body as he approached.

"I can only do so much, Lucifer," Cadmus said, using his scythe to support his weight as usual.

"Can't blame the kid for that one," the snide voice of Azazel came from the left. While Cadmus looked to see the grey demon leaning against one of the pillars, Niccolo could not help but continue staring at the creature approaching him.

"He'll learn, I think," the woman said as she stopped a few feet away from the Horseman. "Or maybe not, who knows? I will say that his willpower is astounding."

"My...willpower?" Niccolo asked, but the woman in the gold dress gave him a crooked smile in response.

"It's not often that a mere human can keep eye contact with me, man or woman. I have a sort of...appeal," she said with a heavy breath. "It has its uses, but I confess it's troublesome when I deal with certain subjects."

"Just who are you?" Niccolo asked, confused by her words. It caused the woman to laugh lightly.

" _Lucifer_! Have you not told him about me?" she asked, turning to the fallen angel and playing at being offended. "I'm _hurt_. I thought we meant something," she said before turning back to Niccolo with a slight pout. Lucifer groaned slightly before waving at the woman between them.

"Nico, meet Paimon, one of the Kings of Hell."

" _Very_ pleased to meet you, Nico," she lilted, extending her pale hand. "Scratch just wouldn't stop talking about you."

"Stop lying, Paimon, the kid doesn't need that in his head," Lucifer said as he approached them, stopping when he was by the demonic woman's side. Paimon laughed at the remark, but then shrugged before looking into the leper's eyes.

"Oh, pay no attention to him, Nico. He likes you more than he lets on," she said before giving him a smile. She stood there with her hand still extended for a moment before nodding her head. Niccolo took the cue and placed his human fingers around her hand and lowered his lips to kiss her fingers.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," he said as he rose back up to look at the fallen angel. All of the kings were part of the original uprising against God and were regarded with the highest respect. For a moment, Niccolo thought that he might be punished for the perceived slight.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not easily offended like the others," she said before looking to the ruler by her side. "Make sure he knows what to look out for during the Council. Balam gets stubborn when people ignore him, you know."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Niccolo isn't one for ceremonies and bureaucracy, anyway, so I expect he'll be far away from the palace," Lucifer said while looking fondly at the demon in the gold dress.

"I'm sorry," Niccolo interrupted, drawing the attention of the fallen angels, "but did you say _King_ of Hell?" Paimon cocked her head to the side before her lips broke into an alluring smile.

"Oh, honey, it's just a title. Don't worry though, I'm the only one with all of this," she said as she motioned down her body with her left hand, which, just like her right, was covered in a golden sleeve that started by her elbow and ended at her fingers.

"Paimon," Lucifer said in disapproval, but it brought a laugh from Azazel, who had pushed himself off of the pillar.

"Oh, C'mon, Lucy. Viné has nothing on her. Can't we enjoy the show?" he asked as he walked up to the fallen angel and put his hand on Lucifer's shoulder.

"Azazel, thank you," Paimon said before crossing her arms, which pushed her breasts together further. "You need to listen to him, more, honey. We left him with you for a reason," she said before looking over at Niccolo, whose eyes had finally strayed at the prospect of cleavage. "Aww, there you go!"

"Uh," the Horseman stammered, but the woman merely laughed.

"Proves your human, sweetie, don't worry about it. And Cadmus," she purred before turning her gaze to the Pale Rider, who was still standing outside of the conversation, "it wouldn't hurt for you to indulge, too. You can look all you like."

"I think you're a little old for me," he said, crossing his arms over the top of his scythe.

"Oh, I _missed_ you," Paimon said before chuckling and looking to Lucifer. "Well, as fun as all this is, I have some people to catch up with in the city. Eligos would get angry if I didn't go to see him and, well," she said as she glanced over at the Horsemen, "I don't think they want me around to hear their news."

"Why would you say that?" Niccolo asked, trying not to let on too much about their visit. Paimon merely looked at him with skepticism.

"You have a bit of a reputation, Nico, but I know from experience that Cadmus is just a little too serious, even if he does have a wicked, little tongue on him," she said before winking at the reaper. "Anyway," she lilted as she walked toward the doors of the throne room, "I'll see you tomorrow, gentlemen."

"And Scratch," she said as she stood at the doorway, "don't forget what we talked about. I have a feeling that we need to be extra careful."

"I won't, Paimon. Say hello to Eligos for me," he said, but she just laughed as she stepped between the doors.

"Of all the useless things... I make no promises," she said, her voice fading with her departure. It was only a few moments before Lucifer turned his gaze to the Horsemen.

"So what's the problem, now?" he asked, which broke Niccolo out of his stupor.

"We can't just stop by to say hello?" Niccolo responded. The question brought a bark of a laugh from the grey demon.

"In a hundred years I have _yet_ to see you come here without a complaint, Nico," Azazel said while cracking his neck. Niccolo sighed before looking back at the bald angel.

"She seems nice," he said, but Lucifer merely bit his lip at that.

" _Seems_ , sure, but that's exactly what she wants. Paimon's dangerous when she wants to be."

"Uh huh," Niccolo said as he awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other. He had no way how to tell Lucifer why he was here; he almost wanted Cadmus to explain it for him.

"Nico," Lucifer said, his brow furrowing as he stepped up to the young Horseman. He knew that whatever it was had to be serious, as Niccolo usually had no problem finding his words. "What happened?"

"Scratch," the Horseman said with a note of despair before looking at the floor, unable to look his mentor in the eye. "Everyone's saying I shouldn't tell you."

"You know you can talk to me, Nico," the angel said, his voice filled with understanding. The leper looked up with his good eye lined with a tear too stubborn to fall. Niccolo was only now confronting the fact that he might lose his second father.

"Scratch, someone is going to kill you," he blurted out, wondering if he did the right thing. Lucifer looked at him hard for a moment before backing up and pursing his lips.

"Kid," Azazel said from his other side, his voice absent his usual sarcastic tone, "I hate to break it to you, but Lucifer has been the center of thousands of death threats." As he finished his statement, he left his hand on Niccolo's shoulder, but he violently shrugged it off before turning to the grey demon.

"It's not a _threat_ , Azazel! It was a vision! Cadmus had to take care of Räum today and he inherited the demon's sight!" he shouted, pointing at the cloaked human behind them. Lucifer looked past the young Horseman and stepped up to Cadmus, a dour expression on his face.

"Is this true, Horseman?" he asked, staring into Cadmus' eyes.

"Yes," he said, gripping his scythe tightly. "You died, though I couldn't tell who...killed you." The fallen angel grunted at that, considering his words, but Azazel didn't stay silent. He walked up to the two of them and seemed to stare into Cadmus' soul, even through the blindfold.

"What did you see?" he asked, his brow furrowing beneath the dark fabric. Cadmus turned to him and sighed before explaining his vision.

"The palace was burning. Lucifer was dead. Some figure in a cloak was standing behind him. I'm sorry, but that's all that Räum left for me. Amon said that he tended to lack details in his prophecies, but that we could trust it," the reaper blurted out, rushing through the explanation just to take the attention off of him. What caused Cadmus to worry was the look the fallen shared when he mentioned the man in the cloak. "I don't think it was me," he started, but Lucifer held up a hand.

"Cadmus, that didn't even occur to me," the fallen angel said as he backed away from him and started to pace around the room.

"Do you think," Azazel tried to ask, but Lucifer gave him a stern look. The ruler of Hell stood in silence for a moment, but eventually he turned to his Horsemen.

"Thank you. I'll keep this in mind," he said, which caused Niccolo to step forward with his hands open in front of him.

"Scratch, we need to take this seriously!" he urged, but Lucifer just glared at him.

"I am, Nico, but Azazel is right. I have had to deal with my fair share of death threats."

"This isn't a threat," Niccolo tried to explain, but Lucifer stood over him and stopped him mid-sentence.

"It might as well be. Räum and Amon could, at best, prophesy a potential future. As long as we are careful and keep our wits about us, we will be fine. Amon is a little boastful when it comes to his abilities. And Räum..." he trailed off before setting his hands on his hips and sighing. "Räum was always the lesser of the brothers."

"Still," Niccolo started, but Lucifer shook his head.

"We'll just be careful. Don't listen to Amon. He can't even tell _your_ future, Nico. Let's just keep this on the table, all right?" he asked, which caused Niccolo to fall into silence. "All right?" he asked again, at which the Horseman nodded.

"Alright," Lucifer said before sighing. "Thanks for bringing this to our attention, but we have work to do and it doesn't require any Horsemen of the Apocalypse." For a moment, Niccolo and Cadmus looked at Lucifer before nodding and heading toward the doorway. Lucifer watched them leave and close the doors to the throne room before deciding to look over at his demonic friend.

"Well this is just perfect," Azazel said, his arms crossed. "We can't just ignore it."

"I know," Lucifer said as he started to walk over to his throne. He stood over it, looking at the shifting seat and watching the weapons and bones flow through the surface. The fallen angel laughed as he considered that it was just like his future; constantly shifting, but always filled with death and warfare.

"Do you really think the Cult of Ascension is back, Zell?" he asked, working over Paimon's warning in his mind.

"I've heard whispers over the last few centuries. You know how some of them hope, Lucy. The Fallen are used to it, but the humans are impatient. Pretty sure even our siblings want it to end, or maybe just for things to change. Hell, I'm starting to go a little nutty, too."

"I can sympathize," Lucifer said under his breath, remembering his life before the Fall. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of that light. "Do you think they can actually do it, though?"

"What? Turn demons feral?" Azazel asked as he walked up to the side of Lucifer's throne. "I don't see how, but...gah, who knows? Most demons have been taking animal traits since the beginning, only some of us have had the willpower to stay in our original shapes. I traded my legs about fifty thousand years ago, if you recall. It's just you, Paimon and a handful of the others that try to keep your heavenly forms. It's possible that someone could manipulate us into turning into beasts. I just...don't know."

"I don't either," Lucifer admitted before turning to his oldest friend. "And that's what disturbs me. If someone out there is responsible for this, is preparing us to lose..."

"So we're going to find out, then?"

"We have to, Zell. _Especially_ if I'm going to die."

***

"So we're going to investigate anyway, right?" Plague's voice echoed as the mist formed into the scarred and pockmarked horse.

"Of course," Niccolo said as he walked up to his steed and stroked his clawed hand through the beast's mane.

"Lucifer just said," Cadmus started, but Niccolo just looked at him in annoyance.

"First, when do I _ever_ do what I'm told? Second, do you seriously think I'm going to just _let_ someone kill Scratch? The only way that someone is going to stab him in the back is if I'm dead and gone, Cadmus. Only when I'm off to whatever's _after_ the afterlife do they even have a _chance_ ," he said before leaping up into the saddle of his horse. Cadmus walked up to him and slammed the end of his scythe against the paved pathway leading away from the palace.

"Nico, it's going to be dangerous," he said in a serious tone as the dust in front of them started to form together.

"Obviously," Niccolo said before looking out on the city of Dis. He turned back to his friend with a sly smile. "Which is why you're going to be helping me along the way. Even if we're up against the demons of Hell, there are not many things that can stop two Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

"You're impossible," the reaper said as he jumped onto the still-forming body of Mercy. It shuddered for a moment, but soon the beast was standing tall with his rider in the saddle.

_You are one to talk. I told you to only do that in emergencies,_ Mercy's voice rasped in Cadmus' mind.

_Sorry, he's being difficult like always_ , he thought, but that only brought a laugh from the ethereal horse.

_You are the one who lets him hang on you like this,_ Mercy added, but that was the end of the conversation. He knew how his rider felt about his friendship with Niccolo.

"So what's the plan?" Cadmus asked, staring out on the city, working through the vision once more, even if it was painful.

"We try to figure out more about this cloaked figure. We need to find out who might want to kill Lucifer. It can't just be a power play. There's something deep going on. I have a feeling," Niccolo said, hoping that he would not have to let go of his father figure. Even if Barbas had brought Niccolo up after his fall, he would never have survived this long in Hell without Lucifer's support.

"Oh, because your feelings are always so reliable," Cadmus said, deflecting the statement with sarcasm. The problem was that Niccolo had a point. He sighed before looking at his fellow Horseman. "So, the library?"

"You think what we need is going to be in a _book_?" Niccolo asked, raising his unblemished eyebrow. Cadmus shook his head at that before grabbing Mercy's reins and motioning the horse away from the palace.

"No, the only way forward is going to be rumors and word of mouth. I'm just counting on Buer being at the library. He could lead us in the right direction."

"The centaur? You _know_ that stuffy old demon hates me."

"After what you did, I'd be mad, too," Cadmus added as he looked off into the distance. After considering their options, he turned back to his friend. "You'll just have to deal with it, Nico. We need all the help we can get."

# Chapter 4: Past - Rotten in the State of Firenze

It had only been two days, but Niccolo could feel his skin losing ground to the infection on his arm. He had done what he could to avoid contact with his servants, hiding from them so they could not witness the treatment of his wound. Whatever bandages he used on his upper arm were thrown away discretely; he disposed of them in the abandoned alleyways frequented by lepers and the dregs of Fiorentino society.

Niccolo walked through the doorway and into the quiet room. It was empty, the church always was at that time of day, but that was exactly what the merchant's son required. He needed to talk to God and the less people who witnessed the conversation, the better.

He lowered his knees to the dust covering the empty floor of the house of worship and then breathed out deeply. In contrast to how he treated his departed mother and her faith, Niccolo had never entirely been the religious type. However, now he knew that something else was at work. Whether it was God or chance, Niccolo felt like there was little harm in asking for help.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii et Spiritus Sancti," he muttered, crossing himself with his right hand before clasping both together and lowering his forehead down to contact his thumbs. He felt silly doing this, but there was far too much on the line. No one would accept him as a leper; no one would want to know him if this disease continued to spread.

"Almighty God," Niccolo said before raising his head and staring into the cross hanging on the back wall behind the small altar of the church. "We have not exactly seen...eye to eye, but I come to you a humbled man. I'm sure in your infinite power that you know why I have come here. I know it must seem selfish, Lord, but I cannot live with this ailment. What has stricken me would not just maim me, it would destroy my life." Niccolo contemplated his words and bit his lip before continuing.

"My skin, Lord, it cracks and weeps pure infection, ruining my skin. If my father were to find out, I would be ruined. If dear Camilla were to find out, I'm afraid that she would no longer love me. I...I am so close to being the happiest man in the world," he said, anguish contorting his features. "To have all this taken away from me seems beyond cruel, but I will not question your ways. I need your guidance, Lord, and your help."

"Please," he choked out the word. "Tell me what I can do to stop this disease, what I can do to reverse what has happened. I don't know what sin I committed, Lord, but if you were to show me some kind of sign, some kind of clue as to what it was, I will repent. I will give more than my ten percent, Lord; I will devote my future to your worship. I will do anything as long as you stop this. As long as I can keep my family and the woman I love."

"Please," Niccolo urged as he lowered his head back down to his hands, burying them into his black hair. "I will not deny you. That must be it. Because I did not worship you, you have done this to me. My father taught me this way. He told me that everything had its price, including faith in you! I was led astray! I am sorry!" he shouted as he looked back up to the cross above the altar, rage filling his voice. "I am sorry that I did not believe in you before! It did not seem right to believe in a god that could be so cruel!"

"I...I," he paused as he realized that a vengeful god would not want to hear these words. They should have remained secrets within his mind. He backpedaled, trying to seem like a penitent believer. "I realize now that it is not my place to judge you, Lord. It's not my place to accuse you of cruelty or to deny your benevolence. I seek absolution, Lord, but I cannot do right by you if I am shunned from my household. I repent, I repent so that I may serve you better," he said, giving into a deity who possibly did not exist. He brought up his right hand to his left sleeve, feeling the grooves between the layers of bandages and raised flesh.

"What should I do, my Lord?" he asked, bringing his gaze to the floor in his submission.

"There are ways around it, young Vespucci," a bemused voice echoed throughout the small church. Niccolo whipped around, hoping that God himself was appearing to him but knowing through reason that such a thing could not possibly occur, and he was able to see a rather bored-looking individual grooming his nails just a few yards away. The mysterious man seemed average in every sense of the word, his purple clothing speaking of wealth, but not to the extent of Niccolo's father. He had some weight to him, but he did not seem to be the type to overindulge. His face was merely tired, like he had been awake for too long.

"How much did you hear?" Niccolo asked, furious that someone had eavesdropped on his conversation with what he considered an imaginary being. The new arrival merely gave a crooked smile before walking slowly toward the kneeling man.

"Enough. Enough to know that you have something you wish to keep secret from your father, young Vespucci."

"How do you know..." Niccolo started, but the tired man merely shook his head before setting his hand on a nearby column.

"It is my business to know the individuals who will own the future of Firenze, Niccolo. I'm only somewhat offended that you do not recognize me from your father's wedding."

"I'm sorry."

"It does not matter much, my boy, as we shall just put it down to the wine you had consumed so readily. My name is Lorenzo Innocenti, and that's all we will speak on the subject."

"Is there any chance that is your real name?" Niccolo asked as he rose from the floor, but the middle-aged man merely shrugged at him.

"Perhaps, young Vespucci, and that's how I prefer it for now. I don't want you to be too concerned with that, as it will not bode well for arranging this blackmail."

"Blackmail?"

"Yes," Lorenzo said with a cruel smile, "blackmail. It was so cruel of your God to send me here this day. I was only here to light a candle for my dear, departed mother, but I have stumbled upon your misfortune. But now, now that I think about it, Nico," he said as he started to pace the room, casting the back wall into shadow as he moved across the light, "it doesn't have to be unnecessarily painful for you."

"What are you getting at, you coward?" the merchant's son asked, violence hidden behind his words. Lorenzo merely laughed softly at the remark.

"I could help you, Nico. I could! This is something within my power. I have connections throughout Firenze, thus connections throughout the world, and, as such, I know of all kinds of medicines and possible cures for your ailment."

"What do you want in return?" Niccolo asked, distracted by the burning and itching coming from the sores on his arm.

"Merely a kind word to your father. Some favorable conditions toward trading agreements. Perhaps, once you are in a better position, we could arrange some favorable deals of our own..." Lorenzo trailed off, but the glint in his eyes completed the statement.

"And if I refuse, Innocenti?"

"Then you shall die a pauper and you will rot until you do," he said before turning to face Niccolo straight on. His grin showed the puffy gums of a man experienced with the sea. "There are worse things in life than owing a debt, young Vespucci."

Niccolo turned the man's words over in his head, but part of him had already been convinced. He had come to God for a solution, but it seemed that Man would be responsible for his cure. Or perhaps God was the guiding force for this treacherous deal. The merchant's son ignored the pain coming from his arm and stared at his opponent.

"How will I convince my father to give you lenient terms in trade if I do not know your name?" he asked, diverting the true question so he could have more time to consider its implications.

"You should learn to be more trusting in the house of God, Niccolo. I did not lie about my name. I _am_ Lorenzo Innocenti. Speak my name with favor and I shall do you the same, Vespucci. I already have something in mind for this little ailment of yours," Lorenzo teased, letting his teeth show in another grin. Niccolo had no choice, it seemed, so he offered his hand in order to symbolize their agreement, but Innocenti shook his head.

"Oh, young Vespucci, there's no telling where that's been. We'll just consider this deal settled. Speak well of me to your father, and within the day you will find a package within your room. Be careful, however," Lorenzo said as he turned and headed toward the open doorway, "both with your words and your cure. They each hold their own danger."

Niccolo stared after the man, wondering how he should approach his father, but soon the man was gone and had turned around a corner into the brightly-lit world outside the church. Niccolo turned back toward the altar, seeing the cross hanging above it, and sighed. To Niccolo, it seemed that he had known the truth about the world all along.

Everything had its price.

***

The sun was beaming down on Niccolo as he walked up to his father. Carlo was busy conversing with one of the overseers for the reconstruction of the Ponte Vecchio, which had been destroyed a few years earlier. The merchants wanted a more stable construction than wooden beams, so Carlo Vespucci was more than willing to provide stonemasons and connections to various quarries for the effort. As long as it was within his financial gain to do so, of course.

"Father," Niccolo said as he held up his left hand to guard his eyes from the sun. His father, weighed down by other worries, took some time to realize he was being addressed. After a moment, the elder Vespucci turned to see his approaching son and his face lit up with a broad smile.

"Nico, you scoundrel! Where have you been these last two days?" he asked as he waited for his son to reach him. "You're gone most of the day and no one can tell me where you go. I even stopped by Marco's house, I'll have you know. I'll never be able to wear those shoes again."

"I'm sorry, father," Niccolo said with a note of sincerity, trying to play the repentant son. "I haven't been myself these last two days. There have been issues on my mind."

"And what is that, Nico? Don't," he said, walking forward so that others might not overhear through the din of construction, "don't tell me that Camilla changed her mind."

"No, no, Camilla is fine," Niccolo said, waving his hands in front of him in order to sway his father. Carlo breathed a sigh of relief and then brought his hand down onto Niccolo's shoulder.

"Then what? Oh, did you get her pregnant already, Nico? I wouldn't be surprised. We do have a strong bloodline, you know," Carlo said with a wink, keeping his voice down.

"No, father, I'm...well, to be honest I'm fairly certain I have more self-control than you," Niccolo said, trying to keep the conversation lighter. Carlo backed off for a moment in shock, but quickly his face resolved into joy at the turn of phrase.

"Hah, you must have gotten that from your mother. Perhaps it will make you a better merchant, but who's to say, Nico? Perhaps it would do you well to take after your father more," Carlo said with a sly smile, which forced Niccolo to break into one of his own. Even though his arm was still bothering him, demanding his attention, he forced the pain to the background.

"Perhaps it would do you better to take after your wife, Master Vespucci. But, I think that's enough of that. Father," Niccolo said, flinching slightly as he moved his arm, which helped sell his performance, "I would be lying to say that something is not troubling me. This joking, while all good fun, is not befitting my current perspective."

"Out with it, boy. Do not speak to me as if you were selling me something. I taught you too much of your craft," Carlo said, crossing his arms, but Niccolo merely nodded his head to the side.

"Then you should know that a Vespucci never abandons his craft," Niccolo said, seeing his father's eyes shining with approval. "I am essentially a man grown, father."

"You are, my son, you are. About to take a wife and I must say, half as handsome as I was in my youth. That is quite the accomplishment," his father boasted in his casual way.

"In its own way. What troubles me, however, is that I am not involved with your business."

"My business?"

"Yes," Niccolo said, walking over to the waterway. The Arno, the river flowing through the middle of Firenze, looked especially lovely in the sun. The light was flickering between the swells of the river and the current of water breaking against the wooden posts that remained from the former bridge. "If I am to be a true man, I should work for my living."

"You will, Nico. I have not groomed you all these years just to leave you to rot," Carlo said as he approached his son, standing by Niccolo's side. "One day my business will _be_ yours. You are my legacy, son, you cannot forget that."

"But I think it is time that I contribute, Carlo," he urged, hoping to take his father off-guard by using his first name. "Even if you will not give me part of your trade, perhaps I can at least help you make decisions. Help you with a fresh perspective."

"Carlo, huh," the merchant muttered as he stared across the Arno, considering the worth of his son. He turned slightly, peering at Niccolo out of the corner of his eye. "You are rather bold, my son. That, I can guarantee, did not come from your mother. How exactly, did you want to help with this perspective of yours?"

"There is a merchant, father, who I met at your wedding. A Lorenzo Innocenti."

"Bah, a miserable man," Carlo interrupted, but Niccolo continued.

"One does not need to be pleasant in order to be profitable, father."

"He spent a good deal of an hour ogling my Allegra, Niccolo."

"Perhaps he was ogling your wallet, father," he said, which brought a look of shock on his father's face. Carlo Vespucci immediately broke into a laugh.

"You know, I'm not exactly sure which one is more attractive."

"Well, father," Niccolo said as he turned to the merchant, "from what I've heard, this Innocenti might be able to make Allegra a distant second."

"It would be interesting to hear what you hear, my son," Carlo muttered, but Niccolo just put his unblemished arm around his father's shoulders.

"That, father, is exactly what I'm offering."

***

He could tell by the candle flickering on the windowsill that Camilla was waiting for him. It was one of the codes they had developed when they were children, evading their parents' gaze. Niccolo felt like he could not expose Camilla to his plight, but he yearned for her presence. It was with quick work that he scaled the tree in the courtyard and then jumped to the windowsill, pulling himself up and over in a swift movement.

This time, when he placed his feet on the landing, Antonio Gherardini was not there to greet him. However, if he were to get caught this time, there would be much more punishment in store. Just because the two of them were about to be married did not mean that sneaking into the Gherardini estate at night would not come with consequences.

Niccolo crept down the hallway until he came to his lover's door, pausing once he was standing within inches of the rich maple. He wondered what he could say to his future wife; wondered how much he would be able to confide in the young girl. She undoubtedly loved him, but this mark of shame on his arm might be enough to sway her toward apathy or even revulsion. Niccolo took a deep breath before tapping softly at the door with his fingertips, anxious at the coming conversation.

"Nico," she whispered on the other side of the doorway, holding her breath, "is that you?"

"Yes, my love," he whispered back, which caused the woman on the other side of the barrier to fumble for the handle, opening the door for her lover.

"I was not sure you would come, I sent messages through the servants," she said, the breath catching in her throat once she saw Niccolo's appearance. "What happened?" Camilla asked with worry laboring her words.

"Nothing, my love," Niccolo said as he straightened himself up and walked past her into her room. "I have had a number of revelations; that is all."

"Revelations? Nico, you look ill! On the bed, go," she commanded before walking over to the windowsill and grabbing the candle.

"We're not married yet, my love," Niccolo joked, but he followed her command and sat down on the feather mattress; it was far more comfortable than the straw he was used to. His future wife scoffed as she sat down on the bed beside him and held the candle up to his face.

"Quiet. What is wrong, Nico?" she asked again, knowing that a simple revelation would not have this effect on the merchant's son. His skin was pallid; sweat seemed to pour from his brow. It had only been a few hours since his conversation with Carlo, but his condition had deteriorated. The pain and itching coming from the sores on his arm was almost maddening.

"I told you," he said, doing his best to keep his voice from sounding strained. "Revelations of import. It kept me busy and away from you."

"I should say so. You've never found a way to resist breaking into my house for even a day, Niccolo. I half-thought you had jumped on a ship and left to some exotic place to escape our coming marriage," Camilla joked, grabbing the end of her blanket and using it to wipe Niccolo's brow. "But Nico, I don't see how any information would cause you to look like this."

"Oh, Camilla, sometimes I am able to resist your charms," he said with a smile, seeing her face still filled with skepticism. "My father told me a few things."

"And what are these things?" she asked, placing the blanket in her lap and folding her right hand over her left.

"I...have been given the opportunity to arrange a proposal with a man named Lorenzo Innocenti. I am now officially a part of my father's business," he said with false pride, hoping that his love would be impressed by the name. Instead, her eyes narrowed to slits.

"Innocenti? Niccolo, I'm afraid I must be confused. Innocenti has never been the most reputable of people," she said, glaring at the man on her bed.

"Well," Niccolo started, knowing that he was arguing against what he knew to be true, "I have it on good authority that making a deal with the man would be in our best interest. But this is exciting, my love! I will have my own responsibilities and will become the kind of man you would want to marry," he said, placing his right hand on hers.

"Nico..." she trailed off, biting her lip before shaking her head. "A man is allowed to make his own mistakes, but you know that I don't care about all of that. I would be just as happy with you if you waited a few more years. Waited for a better...opportunity," she hesitated on the word, skeptical of Niccolo's sense in the matter. Camilla placed his extended hand between her own and looked him in the eye. "My love, are you sure there is nothing else? Are you sure there's nothing more that you want to tell me?"

Niccolo looked at the woman he loved and tried to hide his reaction. He tried to hide his fear and his apprehension. Although he wanted to tell Camilla everything, he just could not risk it, especially if Innocenti would come through for him and give him his cure. It was best if Niccolo kept the truth from her, if she was to never learn of his illness.

"I have told you everything, Camilla. I promise you that."

"Good," she said, still wary at the young man's words, "but now that it's settled, you really have no excuse to have kept me in the dark these two days. Don't do that again, Nico. I have little use for cowards and liars. I know you're a merchant's son, but do try to resist your nature."

"Oh, my love, my nature is exactly what brought us together," he teased, which brought a smile from the dark-haired beauty sitting on the bed. She leaned forward to kiss him, which Niccolo was tempted to fall into, but at the last second he remembered his affliction. He backed away, which prompted the woman to look at him with skepticism.

"Wha-?" Camilla started in surprise, but Niccolo just raised his finger to his lips.

"Now, now, who's not resisting their nature?" he teased before getting up, realizing the temptation was just too great while they were together. This was why it had taken so long for him to talk to her; the merchant's son did not want to spread his disease to her fair skin.

"You're a monster, Nico," she said as she stood up, crossing her arms in front of her.

"It's too bad you're about to be married to me, isn't it?" he asked as he backed away from her. Camilla shook her head at that.

"I'll just have to find some way to deal with you."

"I have heard that garlic works for some of the undead," Niccolo said as he placed his hand on the door. The woman gave a short laugh before grabbing the candle near her bed, snuffing it out so that the two of them were left in the moonlight streaming from her window.

"I will be sure to have the servants prepare our meals with a great deal of garlic, then."

"Oh, you are so cruel, my love," he teased, a smile on his face but sorrow clouding his mind.

"Then we are perfect for each other. I trust you will see your way out without harm?" she asked, moving so that the moonlight framed her body, the light reflecting off her dark hair. Niccolo thought that the woman looked like an angel as she stood there.

"Harm shall be the last thing that comes to me," Niccolo said with a wink that he was not sure she had seen, and then departed from her room in silence. As he left, Niccolo hoped that Innocenti had heard of their impending negotiations. If nothing else, Niccolo needed to be healthy and whole for the woman he left in the moonlight.

That angel would not be exposed to his disease. Not in this lifetime.

***

When the merchant's son returned to the Vespucci estate, he found that his door was slightly ajar. He pushed through the doorway to find that the curtain that usually covered his window had been drawn aside, a package conveniently left in the slit of moonlight that crossed the room. Niccolo knew then that Innocenti had a very useful web of information and that, in his own way, he was a man of honor.

Niccolo closed the door behind him and lit a candle that was sitting on a nearby table. He stared at the box for a moment, considering what could lie inside. It could have been anything, Niccolo had heard rumors of the different cures for leprosy, but none of the possibilities were pleasant. The merchant's son stood there, contemplating the box's contents, before the ache in his arm started again. This time it seemed to affect his shoulder, as well, and Niccolo took that as a poor sign. Whatever cure was inside the box, it was apparent Niccolo needed to use it.

The box was a small thing, plain and simple, and it was kept closed by a simple latch. The only remarkable thing about it was where it had been found and the note which had been sealed to the top. Niccolo took the package over to the table and then pried off the seal, which came off with only a small amount of effort. When Niccolo sat down at his chair and opened up the folded paper, he found that the message was in a very plain script.

Young Vespucci,

You have not disappointed me, so it is with great joy that I give you your cure. It is said that this ailment can be undone by a trace amount of venom from a particular viper. Due to my connections, you now have a specimen of this particular viper.

I have taken the liberty of placing it in a small container. Be wary, it will try to bite you, but that is the desired effect, I believe. Perhaps you should open it with your sores directed toward the viper. It should not kill you, but I'm sure you know the dangers of medicine. If you do feel like dying, Young Vespucci, at least keep my name out of it.

Niccolo read the message twice, hoping that he had misread the thing, but after a moment he remembered a hazy conversation in a tavern not too long ago. A sailor had sworn by snake venom for all kinds of ailments, including leprosy. The merchant's son glared at the simple box, now aware of what lay inside, and wondered if he perhaps could deal with being a beggar for the rest of his life. One flash of Camilla's face was enough to shake the boy back to his senses, so Niccolo set about taking off his shirt. It did not catch on his sores like before, but once he had taken off the garment, he was able to see the bandages on his left arm.

It was worse than he thought it would be. Niccolo had tried to ignore it throughout the day, but what he saw was alarming. Although he was prepared for the yellow of dried pus and the brown of dried blood, he did not like the puckering occurring at the edge of the bandages. The disease was still spreading; it covered almost the entire length of his upper arm and was almost at the crest of his shoulder. If he was to use this cure, it would have to be now, before it had gotten closer to his heart.

Niccolo unwrapped the bandages on his arm and tried to ignore the pain that came with the cloth tearing at the scabbed tissue. There were now eight welts scattered around his arm, marring his skin in deep patches. He breathed in deeply as he sat exposed in his room, looking at the box which held the poison which could heal him. The merchant's son only needed the memory of Camilla's face in order to steel his resolve.

When Niccolo opened the container, the viper did not strike immediately; it sat there in the straw before turning to look at Niccolo, its tongue flickering in and out in order to perceive the world beyond the box. After just a moment, Niccolo quickly put out his left hand, trying to grab the viper by the neck, but the movement was enough to make the animal feel threatened. It lashed out, sinking its exposed fangs into the flesh of Niccolo's palm. It stung the merchant's son, but he instinctually brought his fingers down to keep the snake there while bringing out his other hand to grab a hold of the viper's body.

The pain burned through his palm, but Niccolo did his best to keep his wits about him, keeping his hold on the viper but falling out of the chair he was sitting in. He fought against his own reactions and moved his right hand along the creature's body, trying to find purchase around the thing's neck. The rest of its body coiled around his right arm, but he tried to ignore that. Luckily, the pain from his left hand was enough to make that an easy prospect.

Soon enough, he was able to wrestle his right thumb and index finger up to the sides of the viper's neck and squeezed, causing the animal's jaw to slacken. Niccolo withdrew the creature's fangs from his left hand, the translucent teeth illuminated by the moonlight pouring from his window. The palm of his left hand was already swelling and he felt dizzy from the snake's venom, but he knew he could not just lie there.

With a shaking hand, still holding onto the struggling snake, Niccolo brought his cure toward his diseased arm. He took a couple of deep breaths before sniffing and bringing the viper's fangs into the meat just below his shoulder. Niccolo held the viper there for a moment, feeling the venom entering his bloodstream, before withdrawing the creature's fangs. Staying conscious became a struggle, but Niccolo brought the viper down to the middle of his upper arm and repeated the process, enduring the pain for any potential cure which could be found.

Niccolo was only able to deliver one more dose to the skin just above his elbow before it all became too much. His arm was still burning, though it was a sort of numb warmth that enveloped him. The world swam above him, becoming incoherent. He almost thought he saw Camilla for a moment, but he realized he had just wanted to see her. As the viper slipped from his fingers, escaping to a corner of the room, Niccolo drifted off to a painful sleep.

It seemed like moments before the dawn sun was burning through his eyelids, but as soon as he realized that he was not dead, Niccolo gasped toward consciousness. His arm throbbed, but the merchant son's first reaction was to look for the viper, his potential cure. Niccolo could not find the snake, but he realized that it did not much matter. He had already used the beast for its purpose and he could eliminate the creature later if he needed to. What concerned him most was whether or not the viper had done its job, but when he looked down to his side, he was horrified to find that the rash and welts had spread to his shoulder and to his lower arm.

His cure had only served to cause his worst nightmare.

***

"Marco!"

The inebriated Italian opened his eyes, realizing that he was far closer to the floor than he should be. He also felt a stinging sensation on the left side of his face, but that was not particularly uncommon. When he rolled over, however, he saw that his dear friend was shouting above him, breathing heavily.

"Nico, what have I said about waking me up? Violence is never the answer," he said, groaning as he sat up to his knees and then rubbed his face. Marco realized that he felt wet and wondered if he was drooling, but then he realized his entire upper body was covered in water.

"Sometimes it's the only thing you respond to, Marco!" he shouted before pacing around the room, more nervous and excited than the drunk had ever seen him. Immediately, Marco knew something was wrong, so he got to his feet, stumbled into the nearby wall, and then gathered himself so that he could talk to his young friend.

"Calm down, Nico, you're bad at dealing with stress. That's why I'm here. Now," Marco said as he walked past his friend toward the far table, which held a small skin of wine. Niccolo looked at Marco with disgust before he saw the drunk extend his hand toward him, offering the skin to his young friend. "Drink some of this and then tell me what has occurred in your perfect world."

"No, Marco, I don't want to get drunk in the morning like you!"

"I'm only offering one more time before I drink it. One of us needs to be intoxicated for this conversation," Marco said with a coy smile, but Niccolo's expression remained serious.

"It'll have to be you, then, I'm already well on my way," the merchant's son stated, his eyes looking out of Marco's only window. This caused the drunk to glare at Niccolo, finally realizing this was not just some petty drama. He lowered the skin and then dropped it on his bed, determined to focus on his young friend.

"You're going to have to tell me what this is about, Nico, because I'm not sure I can handle all of this excitement," he said, trying to inject some levity into the situation. The merchant's son looked back at him, sorrow in his eyes, but eventually he sighed and then took off his shirt.

"Whoa, whoa!" Marco shouted, but then he saw the bandages wrapped around Niccolo's arm. The older man instantly sobered up and looked at his friend with worry. "Um, what the _hell_ is that?"

"This," Niccolo said, grimacing in pain, "is the reason I'm so _excited._ " He took hold of the trailing end of bandages and then began to gingerly remove the wrapping. Marco watched, a knot turning in his stomach, but once Niccolo was able to show the extent of his injury, Marco threw up what was left in his stomach. He looked back at his friend, but the sight of Niccolo's rotting arm was enough to cause Marco's stomach to churn.

"Nico..." he said, trying not to look at the mess that he had made of the floor, "please tell me I'm drunk and this is a dream."

"If it is, it's a nightmare, Marco," his young friend muttered, despair coloring every word. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"How..." Marco said as he tried to regain his senses, "how did this happen?"

"How should _I_ know, Marco? All I know is that everything I've done hasn't worked." Niccolo sat down on his bed, causing Marco to flinch. He would have to burn those sheets after his friend left.

"Well, what have you done?" he asked, pacing around his bedroom.

"Last night I...I tried to use snake venom to stop the spread. It didn't work," Niccolo explained, burying his face in his hands.

"Didn't work?" Marco asked, not comprehending that such a barbaric practice was actually considered a cure. Niccolo jumped up and shook his maimed arm toward Marco in his anger.

"No! It made it worse! I thought I was going to die, I still feel the shadow of death on me, but my arm is worse! It was just between the shoulder and the elbow before. Now, now you see what has happened," he trailed off, the fight leaking out of him.

"Marco...I'm going...it's over," Niccolo said, sniffing at the end of the statement. Marco looked down at his friend and was filled with so much pity that it overcame his disgust. He kneeled down and then slapped Niccolo's thighs.

"It's not over, Nico, stop it! Look, we live in an age of medicine! We know more now than we have in any time of _history_! Well, I think so, at least," Marco said, getting distracted by his own line of thinking. He shook his head before grabbing Niccolo's chin. "There's got to be something out there."

"I tried. My father will disown me. Camilla will..." Niccolo started, but Marco slapped him and then made sure to wear his most stern expression.

"Oh, don't you start with that, Nico! That girl loves you to death! We're going to find some way to fix this arm of yours."

"What if we can't?" Niccolo asked, which brought Marco's thoughts to the reality of the situation. There was every possibility that his young friend would end up begging with the other lepers.

"You're going to be fine, Nico. We're going to fix this," the older man stated, but he could tell that Niccolo was unconvinced. Marco shook the merchant's son by his healthy shoulder. "What are we going to do, Nico?" The young man looked up at him, but hope was still absent in his gaze.

"We're going to fix this."

"That's right," Marco said as he continued to boost his friend's spirits.

Realistically, it was the only thing he could offer.

#  Chapter 5: Chasing Shadows

"I've never liked this place," Niccolo grumbled as they neared the Infernal Archives. The building was massive from the outside, taking up a huge chunk out of the Famine Quarter, but that was nothing compared to what lay beneath the surface. The archives continued to expand downward as the years passed and the history of the world built on itself.

"It's like you don't realize how many times you've said that to me," Cadmus muttered before dismissing Mercy, letting the dust cascade to the scattered bricks and using the remains of his horse to lower himself. Niccolo shook his head at the reaper before swinging his leg around and dismounting from Plague, taking in a deep breath before looking at the sprawling complex.

"I guess I think it's just _that_ important," he needled his companion, reading the demonic letters scrawled across the entrance. Though he had never had the patience to become fluent, Niccolo could, at the very least, translate the phrase in front of him. " _Though in darkness, we are never blind._ They do have a way with words."

"Buer does, at the very least," Cadmus said before passing an impish demon exiting the building. He gave an awkward smile as the former human passed, clearly it was not one of the Fallen, and looked back to his friend. "Do I have to drag you inside?" Niccolo sneered at the remark, but walked up the steps to the black doors, Plague dissolving into the green mist once more and trailing behind his master.

It took twenty minutes to find Buer organizing scrolls in one of the lowest levels. The centaur had virtually lived in the Archives since its construction, rarely sleeping in order to continue his work, although that was not a unique quality among the Fallen; it seemed only former humans seemed to require rest. In any case, the centaur's insomnia was beneficial for his post, as the Archives were constantly in flux. Since the building could shift at a moment's notice, it was difficult for anyone to keep up with organization.

So it was not surprising that they found Buer with his left arm loaded with scrolls, pacing along one of the far walls. There had been a time when angels and demons feared the old centaur, his armor fitted with spikes and twisted barbs which would impale opponents as he ran past. That was not the worst of it, as the powerful demon would also use spears and swords in conjunction with those tactics, creating a whirlwind of destruction. It was no wonder that he had been a champion in the fighting pits for centuries.

Now the scholar looked old and haggard. While his horse half still rippled with powerful muscles, his coat was drab and barely groomed. The humanoid half was dressed in a loose tunic cinched around where his belly button would be, his chest was not as broad and his arms seemed almost spindly in comparison to his former self. Grey was mixed in with his wavy black hair, the bones of his face were more pronounced and he even wore thin spectacles.

However, as old as he looked, the fallen's mind was as sharp as ever.

"Ah, Cadmus, how good to see a respected Horseman in my Archives. Niccolo," Buer greeted them, his voice lowering as he turned to look at the leper, "somewhat less good to see you."

"Just because I tried to ride you once," Niccolo joked, rolling his eyes, but Buer did not look amused.

"That was actually almost endearing, archer. I'm just a tad more offended by the mess you made of levels two hundred and thirty through two hundred and forty five," the centaur said with a clear grudge, placing scrolls into the correct slots without paying attention. It had all become routine for the fallen angel.

"Buer, that was thirty years ago," Niccolo explained while walking over to the demon's side, but Buer snarled at the excuse.

"And it took twenty to fix it, child," Buer almost shouted, but then regained his composure. "You broke the bindings on those levels with your little temper tantrum, burned an entire wall of scrolls which I had to write again _from memory_ and all because Ipos wouldn't give you some records about Firenze."

"He had them for a _year_ , Buer! And you like fixing stuff up around here. You'd get bored otherwise," Niccolo said, which made the centaur's eyes narrow. As he was almost double the size of the leper, it was somewhat intimidating.

"While you have a point, Horseman, forgive me for not taking kindly to your presence. You left me with a colossal burden and did not even bother to apologize," he said, lowering his aged face down to Niccolo's level. The Horseman of Pestilence glared for a moment before a realization came over him.

"This is because I never _apologized_?" he asked, seeing the centaur's features contort a little in confusion, drawing back in reaction. "Well, umm, is it too late to say that I'm sorry?" The fallen angel stood to his full height, his mouth opening and closing. He raised his hand to make a point, but eventually let it fall to his side.

"You think _now_ is the time for that? Damn it all, why are you here?" the centaur asked, giving up on whatever had just taken place. He looked over at Cadmus, who had remained silent throughout the interaction. The reaper knew enough to stay in the background as Niccolo antagonized demons who could rip him apart at a moment's notice.

"Why do people come to Infernal Archives, Buer?" Cadmus said as he walked up to Niccolo's side, slapping the back of his head and glaring at him in disapproval. "Can't take you anywhere."

"There are a few thousand rooms of information, Cadmus; you don't need me to interpret them for you. Think clearly on your questions and wish upon a star, as it were," Buer said as he placed his withered right hand into one of the scroll alcoves, supporting his human half.

"We're not particularly looking for history," Niccolo interrupted, which caused the centaur to look at him with interest.

"You are aware that this building was created to _house_ our knowledge of history?"

"We're actually following up on rumors, old one," Cadmus said before sighing. "I had to reap a fallen angel today. Räum," he explained, waiting for Buer to react to the news. It was a few awkward seconds before the centaur raised an eyebrow and turned to face him.

"Oh, you expected me to care that the crow is dead. Let me tell you now, Horsemen, but not all demons hold each other in high regard. Räum and I were not the best of friends, as we were responsible for the opposite ends of time. He had little respect for my record keeping, and I," Buer said before crossing his arms, "had no respect for his vague notions of playing at foreknowledge. I wouldn't go around sharing this knowledge, but I'm quite ambivalent he's gone."

The two Horsemen looked at each other in shock before turning back to the fallen. Niccolo opened his mouth to speak, but he could not find the words to respond. Instead, Cadmus continued his explanation.

"Well, I guess that's...understandable. The issue that we have encountered is with the reaping. I gained some memories and, well, visions from Räum," Cadmus said, which caused the centaur to lift his right hand to rub at the scraggly beard on his chin, clearly more interested.

"That is much more like it, Cadmus. This is a first, a human reaping a fallen angel, and now you have my attention. Tell me, what did you experience? Two million years of memories would be daunting even for one of us," Buer asked, brightening at this new source of knowledge.

"Do you even care how he died?" Niccolo asked, which caused Buer to wave away the question with his hand.

"Doesn't much matter. Go on, Horseman," he urged.

"Well, yes, it was quite the experience," Cadmus continued, shifting his weight from foot to foot and to the scythe propped up against the floor. "I did pass out from the flood of memories."

"No shame in that," the centaur interjected.

"Actually, at one point I think I saw Heaven, but that was only a flash. What was most disturbing was a possible vision he had."

"And?" Buer asked, caution seeping into his voice.

"What we've heard is that while they're pretty vague, Räum's visions tended to come true," Niccolo added, which caused Buer to grimace.

"Well, if you make things vague enough you can claim all kinds of things. I bet Amon told you that," the centaur said in a snide tone, but his complaint was punctuated with Cadmus slamming the end of his scythe against the floor, drawing their attention.

"I saw Lucifer die, Buer. _That_ part wasn't vague. While the rest of it was blurry, I clearly saw Lucifer get stabbed in the back and bleed out," the reaper said, his voice serious and deep. Buer furrowed his brow at that and then backed away from the Horsemen, stroking his beard and looking into empty space.

"You've talked to Buné, Lucifer and Azazel, I'm guessing. They told you not to focus on it because of the council..." he mumbled, using his powerful mind to realize their recent interactions. Niccolo cocked his head to the side and looked amazed.

"How?"

"Though you're unpredictable at times, Niccolo, I'm aware of your tactics. Buné would know the most about reaping besides me, and you would want to warn Lucifer even though _his_ mentor," he explained, nodding toward Cadmus, "would advise against it. You're here with me now because you've gone rogue." He punctuated the statement by turning to the Horsemen. "It is a good thing you did, because Lucifer's clearly in danger."

"So there is merit to Räum's visions?" Cadmus asked, horror spreading across his face. Buer nodded solemnly.

"If you saw him specifically, and you saw him die, then yes. We can throw out all number of the hazy details, but whatever specifics you have of the events are likely to take place unless they are counteracted," he explained, but Niccolo shook his head and held his open hands by his side for emphasis.

"You were just talking about how you didn't respect Räum's visions," he said, which made Buer worry his beard with his hand and shake his head.

"I misspoke. I did not respect Räum or his interpretation of events. His gift for viewing the future was given to him by Adonai himself, and our god did not skimp when it came to manipulating the fourth dimension. When you reaped the crow, you gained his gift, however temporarily, directly from his soul. You, Cadmus, saw what no other demon could, even Amon."

"How?" the cloaked Horseman asked, drawing Buer's gaze.

"The nature of our souls are very different, Horsemen," he said, taking turns looking at both humans. "When Adonai created the angels, we were merely vessels for a portion of his energy or perhaps just energy from his home. He gave us our gifts, our specific talents, which made us quite powerful in our own right, but we were limited. We have existed for millions of years, something you humans can only imagine. Cadmus, you are now the _one_ outlier," Buer added.

"By our very nature, we were unable to grow, to change internally. If we did happen to kill each other, to end the lives of our brothers and sisters, nothing would happen. Though many of my brethren have changed their outward appearance, they are almost exactly the same entities that have existed since their creation. Human souls are different."

"What do you mean?" Niccolo asked, crossing his arms. Buer laughed at that before taking off his spectacles and wiping them against his tunic.

"You are, at the very least, a curiosity. Adonai did not intend for continued existence after your deaths. You were, for all intents and purposes, animals he could play with for eternity. When Lucifer spurred on your evolution, very curious things started to happen. The first human soul came into being only a few thousand years ago. When Seere found his way to Hell, everyone was absolutely astonished. After he died on Earth, he existed, albeit much weaker than the Fallen, and grew as the ages passed. And he was not the only one. More and more human souls started to appear in both Heaven and Hell and caused other issues, but that is beside the point."

"What was so interesting," he continued, almost giddy in his explanation, "was that when these humans killed one of the roaming beasts, like your dragon, they gained power. The longer they existed, and particularly if they ended the lives of others, the stronger they became. Seere, as you know, is now a rather prominent figure at the Pits. He has had, after all, several millennia to refine his craft. The problem was that whenever a being of pure energy like the Fallen or these human souls died, they could leave _another_ soul behind without a body, just like when angels and demons were killed during the war. These _ghosts_ , as best can be explained, became a torment, as most of us could not destroy them."

"This discovery led to the invention of reapers, Cadmus, which is what I've been getting at," Buer said before taking a deep breath, looking at each member of his audience. "Once both realms started to increase in population, controversies and conflicts rose up and the influx of wandering ghosts without bodies became too much for the demonic population. During the war against Heaven, Azrael, the Angelic Reaper, had done what the rest of us could not; he killed the ghosts that the angels left behind. When the new human souls turned into ghosts, we had to mimic Azrael's mercy."

"Buné was somehow able to destroy some of these ghosts without any harm; it was a latent gift from Adonai. He became the first reaper, but he was unable to keep up with the creation of new ghosts throughout Hell. That was why the Reapers were created, specifically from men and women who had a sort of...extra-sensory perception for those who were about to die. Unlike demons, these former men and women _could_ destroy the souls of their own kind, which was a welcome discovery. The reapings certainly added to the strength of these individuals, but as long as they were dispatching ghosts, and not the demons themselves, it was not so terrible a situation."

"Unfortunately, when the feral demons started to appear in Dis, we could not allow the Reapers to kill their corrupted brethren, which was why Crocell and his ilk were appointed as Slayers. Those demons would dissipate the brunt of their powers and energy and the Reapers were tasked with cleaning up the mess. Since Crocell and the rest are fallen angels, they have no capability to increase in power."

"Now," Buer said before taking a breath, reveling in his history lesson, "the idea was that we could keep them under control, including you, Cadmus. It is merely a matter of fortune that you have the distinction of being the Pale Rider. I confess, we always did favor you for the position, but you know as well as I that you are not the only reaper we considered for a potential Horseman. But now, now that you have reaped an elder demon, the game is changing. You are likely more powerful than many of the human souls that have existed throughout time, which is exciting," Buer said, a smile breaking across his old face. Cadmus shook his head, considering his new position, but Niccolo was completely dumbfounded.

"That's quite the lecture, Buer," he said, but the centaur put out his hands, shaking them with fervor.

"I'm not done, Horseman. Because you directly inherited Räum's gift for revelations, you are one of only _three_ souls in Hell that have ever seen the future, and I believe you would be much better at interpreting it. Sadly," he added, his expression darkening, "what you have seen is quite dire. Now that you have some context, what else can you remember? Anything that is not particularly vague will be very important."

"Uh," Cadmus delayed, a stress headache eating away at his mind. He worried his hands against his scythe, trying to recall the memory, but nothing came of it except that vision of Lucifer and his assailant. "Except for the palace burning, the only other detail I remember is the person who killed Lucifer was wearing a cloak."

"A cloak?" Buer asked in a terse manner, clearly disappointed in the recollection. "That's all you have?"

"It was grey, like mine. That's really all I have, Buer. That's all we have to go on."

"It has to be enough," Niccolo said, finally regaining his senses. "Can you tell us anything? Any rumors? Any mention of cloaks being especially important? We need _something_ if we're going to save Scratch." The centaur looked to the man with the rotten arm and sighed, bringing up his hand to pinch the skin at his own forehead. After a moment he looked back down, breathing out in dismay.

"It's not a reaper. Lucifer, even if stabbed by a reaper, would not die like that. It takes a deeper power to kill the Devil," he added, starting to paw at the floor beneath him with his front hooves. "I have... I have something."

"What? Anything would help," Niccolo urged, which brought on the stare of the elder demon.

"The Cult of Ascension. Rumors and vapors, really, but it was one of the few groups against Lucifer's leadership that ever gained any traction. They, and their mysterious leader, were obsessed with claiming the Earth for their own, breaking out of Hell at all costs."

"I remember that," Cadmus said, causing Buer to nod.

"It did occur around the same time as your arrival, Horseman, but we never had the resources to fully flush them out. They viewed Adonai's coming apocalypse as a sign that the Earth should be claimed as soon as possible. Before the end of the world, of course," the centaur said before crossing his arms again.

"How come I have never heard of this?" Niccolo asked, which brought a shrug from the Pale Rider.

"Amon and Räum relayed the prophecies and Lucifer made the agreement more than a thousand years ago, Nico. The Cult was only talked about for a few decades before support died out," Cadmus added, but Buer grunted in response.

"Well, supposedly. There have been whispers over the centuries, but recently, and I say that in the matter of years, for perspective, I have been hearing things again. When the feral outbreak began, the Cult started to leak back into popular consciousness."

"Alright, well, what does that have to do with Lucifer?" Niccolo asked. Buer pursed his lips at the question.

"The rumor was that their enigmatic leader always wore a grey cloak, his face covered in unearthly shadows. If the whispers are true, if the Cult of Ascension has returned, this figure might be a suspect," the centaur speculated, his voice grave.

"Were there any rumors about who the leader could be?" Cadmus inquired, which drew a short laugh from the elder demon.

"Any of the Fallen. No human would have that kind of power." Niccolo paced back and forth in front of the centaur, drawing the fallen angel's gaze. He turned and placed his thumb between his teeth, biting it softly in order to concentrate, and then brought it out of his mouth before turning to face the fallen angel.

"Could it be one of the kings? The Council is coming up," he mentioned.

"Possibly, not all of them are fans of Lucifer's leadership, but my guess is that the leader is more local to Dis. The kings rarely venture out of their own provinces, so they likely have alibis," the centaur responded, clasping his hands in front of him and bringing them up to his lips.

"I'm just saying, Paimon got here early," the leper speculated, but Buer laughed before shaking his head.

"That woman is danger, but not for Lucifer. They have always had an...understanding," he hinted, breathing in deeply before staring off into space again. Niccolo decided not to pursue it, although he kept his wariness toward the seductive demon.

"Do you have any idea who it could be? Any suspicions?" Cadmus asked in desperation, but the old librarian dropped his hands to his sides in defeat.

"I'm a historian, Horsemen. For this task you need someone with current information. That is not me. Go after the rumors, maybe the demons at court and you might find more information. In the meantime," he added, stroking his beard once more, "I would go talk to Crocell. He is intimidating, certainly, but he knows much more than he lets on. He's in the area, close to Ronové's hovel. They had to cordon off a part of the Famine District once Valefor started to turn, which is another issue. Crocell will be fighting him soon," Buer finished by looking into Cadmus' eyes. The reaper shivered at the intensity.

"Now that you mention it, someone does seem close to death," he confirmed, causing Buer to nod.

"Start there, maybe even talk to Ronové. The Cult of Ascension was popular in this district due to, well, the sparse accommodations." Buer punctuated the statement by placing his hand on Cadmus' shoulder before stepping past him. "Don't be too obvious in your investigation. Valefor's turn is worrying. Two of the Fallen going feral in the same day is a dark omen."

"I'm off to another level, now. One of you humans made a mess of the constellation section," he said as he walked away, his hooves clacking against the tiles of the library floor.

"Buer," Niccolo called after the demon, waiting for the librarian to turn before continuing, "do you have anything else? Any other advice?" The fallen angel looked down at the floor for a moment, considering his words carefully. When he looked back into Niccolo's remaining eye, his face was absent any grudge or annoyance.

"If you see the palace on fire, you run as fast as you can."

***

"Two fallen in one day, this is absurd," Cadmus muttered as they made their way through the broad streets of the Famine Quarter. While they did not see anybody as they rode, the Horsemen knew demons were watching them fly past. It took a great deal of concentration to notice the residents of this quarter; they blended in with their surroundings and hid when they could.

"Something's happening, that's for sure," Niccolo added, urging Plague to run faster by flicking the reins.

_Try that again, little man, and see what happens. I'm going as fast as I can,_ the deep voice echoed through his mind, which caused Niccolo to feel a little guilty.

_Sorry, I'm a little distracted_ , he thought, but his horse did not reply, knowing that Niccolo had heard him. The horses continued to gallop through the avenue, trying to reach the blocked-off area in time. Even now they could hear the snarls and roars from the fierce battle, realizing Crocell likely had his hands full.

"Why does it have to be Valefor?" Cadmus asked in a desperate manner, which caused Niccolo to look at him in confusion.

"Does it matter who it is?" the leper asked, causing Cadmus to shake his head.

"If he's feral, it means that he's turned into a full lion," he mentioned, looking at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "Do I have to continue?"

"Oh," Niccolo responded, realizing why the reaper would be apprehensive. In his first life, Cadmus had never had good luck with the large cats. "Well, Crocell shouldn't need our help," he added, trying to make Cadmus feel better. Instead, the reaper stared ahead.

"Let's hope," he said, his voice dropping with the statement.

When they reached a crest in the hill, they finally saw the two demons engaged in combat. Crocell had already given up the pretense of keeping his casual form; blue lightning streaked through his arms and veins, drawing darkness to all of the negative space around him and his dark blue wings. His golden trident shined brilliantly in his hands, but the Horsemen could see blood dripping along the prongs and down the shaft of the weapon. However, Crocell was not the object of their attention.

A humongous beast roared at the demon before continuing its shout by raising its head at the sky, shaking the buildings all around them. The appearance of the feral demon shook Cadmus to his core, its powerful frame taking up most of the avenue. It vaguely resembled an African lion, but seemed even more dangerous and grotesque. The creature's mane was a mixture of crimson and black, but what were most disturbing were the human features throughout the lion's massive head. It had a human's nose and eyes and there was a mixture of human and feline teeth in the demon's mouth, which was big enough to swallow a person whole. The strange nature of the demon did not stop there; although its front legs were those of a lion, its back feet were the hooves of a donkey. And just to make the demon more fearsome, massive bat wings sprawled out from the creature's back.

Cadmus was almost unable to react, sitting on Mercy in shock, but Niccolo slapped him on the arm and then nodded toward the confrontation.

"Look, it's not a real lion, and Crocell's already taking this seriously, we don't need to wor-" he started, but then Valefor made his move. The feral demon used its powerful hind legs to spring forward, swiping at the fallen with deadly claws. Instead of shrugging off the blow or evading the strike, Crocell was hit with the full force of Valefor's attack, only just able to hold his weapon in front of him. The Horsemen watched as Crocell was hit off the ground and slammed into the buildings on the other side of the street.

"You were saying?" Cadmus asked as he shook himself out of his daze, urging Mercy forward. They could not afford to leave Crocell to himself. Niccolo cursed as he followed his friend, hoping they could make it to the fallen's side before things got out of hand.

They watched as Crocell regained his senses and rolled underneath Valefor's next strike, the wall behind him falling to pieces. The slayer continued to run along the creature's exposed stomach, wounding the lion as he went, but that only served to annoy the feral demon. When Crocell was able to run past Valefor's hind quarters and turn to face his enemy, he was met with a hoof to the face, which sent the dark demon sprawling through the air. When his body landed, he rolled end over end across the avenue, his trident flying out of his hands.

"Shit, that's not good," Niccolo cursed as they rode toward the battle. He had no idea what would happen if Crocell was killed in his struggle or if they could even help. Valefor was known for his strength, and it was possible only the strongest of the Fallen could hope to kill the feral demon. Niccolo urged Plague forward with the reins again, forgetting the horse's annoyed comment, but he was not met with another threat. Plague was just as preoccupied as his master.

Crocell tried to pick himself up quickly, knowing Valefor was turning to face him, but the dark demon was hurting. Black blood seeped from his mouth and from the wounds caused by the feral demon's claws. He looked up in time to see the lion snarling at him with its humanoid face, rows of human and lion teeth dripping with demonic saliva. When he heard the Horsemen approaching them, Crocell looked at them in anger.

"Stop! Go back!" he shouted, pushing his body off the ground with his arms and flapping his wings in order to achieve balance once he got to his feet. "He's too dangerous!"

The fallen angel looked back at Valefor just in time, seeing the feral demon pouncing at him. Crocell, looking worried for the first time in Cadmus' memory, cursed before using his legs and wings in conjunction to leap high in the air. The lion just barely missed, crashing into the wall of buildings behind him, but Crocell was not out of danger. The slayer flapped his wings and started to gain in altitude, looking to the approaching Horsemen.

"Do you think I'm kidding? Go back, now! Tell Ronové!" he shouted, the lightning flowing through him becoming bright in emphasis.

"We're going to help!" Niccolo shouted back, which made Crocell look at them in anger.

" _Humans_ ... help me? Who do you think-" he started to ask, but midway through the question he noticed the massive mouth coming into his periphery. Crocell was only just able to react and turned to see rows of demonic teeth lining his vision, a dark maw threatening to swallow him whole. He brought up his hands and slammed them into the top of Valefor's mouth, impaling his hands on fangs, and forced his unprotected feet against the dangerous teeth rising up to kill him.

Cadmus shook in fear, but continued to ride toward the demons locked in mortal combat, holding his scythe downwards and to the right, the blade arcing toward the front. As they fell to the street, Crocell doing his best to keep Valefor from biting him in half, the reaper tried to summon his willpower. When Mercy was within a few yards of the combatants, Cadmus was able to achieve the pure concentration of a warrior, his mind falling back to his life as a gladiator.

Mercy leaped over the massive beast, seeming to fly over Valefor, but that was exactly what Cadmus wanted. He dropped his scythe once his mount left the ground, dragging the blade against Valefor's back and leaving a dark red wound in its wake. The demon howled in pain, but Cadmus was no longer afraid.

Mercy landed and kept running because of the momentum, but eventually the pair was able to turn and look back at the demons. Valefor was furious, his human eyes narrowing, but Crocell was still held in the grip of his vise-like jaw. It was as if Cadmus had barely scratched the demon, the reality of the situation shaking the reaper's confidence.

"Run, you fools! I'll be fine; I'll last. Just go get Ronové!" Crocell shouted, still stubborn as death held him. He was about to shout another command when Valefor's tongue lashed out at his face, drawing blood from his blue cheek. It seemed that Valefor had decided to take the sandpaper tongue of his feline inspiration, as well.

"There's no time, Crocell!" Niccolo shouted as he circled around the feral demon, who was stalking toward Cadmus. The leper grabbed three arrows from his quiver and held them between the fingers of his human hand while retrieving his black bow with his left. With finesse the Horseman brought the two together and pulled back the string, which strained under the massive amount of tension. Niccolo did not even have to tell Plague to run between the feral demon and his petrified friend; he and his horse were of the same mind.

The lion stopped in its tracks once Niccolo made his appearance, but was soon rewarded with three arrows which sank into the flesh of his face. Valefor screamed at that, rearing back to his donkey legs and furiously shaking his head from side to side, which loosed the arrows from his skin. In his reaction, Valefor forgot about the slayer between his teeth and opened his jaw, which allowed Crocell to "escape." In reality, the fallen was thrown out of Valefor's jaws and crashed into the street, rolling to a stop near the rubble of the opposite building.

"No..." Crocell uttered, raising his head slightly, black blood pooling around him. "Just... just go," he urged, seeming to care what happened to the Horsemen for once. "Another slayer will come, just go..."

"Too late for that," Niccolo said, grabbing another arrow with a barbed head. The point made him recall his former life, but he shook the thought from his head. The first time he had to fight a feral elder demon was not the proper time to engage in nostalgia. _Ready?_ he thought, mentally telling his horse what he wanted.

_You are insane, Nico. But... yes_ , the voice echoed in his head. Plague broke into a gallop toward the feral demon, which had brought its legs back down and faced the new threat, his wings spanning the entire width of the avenue. He roared again before leaping forward, set on a crash course with the relatively tiny Horseman.

"Cadmus, you know what to do!" he shouted, not yet putting his arrow to his string. It caused the reaper behind him to come back to the present, suddenly wondering what his fellow Horseman was saying. As Valefor opened his deadly mouth, Cadmus finally realized what Niccolo intended.

"You idiot," he said in shock, spurring Mercy forward. Niccolo and Plague were only a yard away from the approaching demon, but Cadmus knew what his friend intended. Before the beast could react, Plague jumped toward its mouth and dissolved into green mist, causing the lion to choke and come to a halt, not realizing that something had landed on his face. Valefor reared back on his legs once more, opening its eyes as it roared, but what it saw confused the beast. Standing on his face was a small man, a barbed arrow aimed straight down. The archer smiled before letting go of the arrow, which burst through Valefor's unguarded eye.

Niccolo could not help himself from feeling joy when the demon screamed in pain, falling to the street as Niccolo held on to the creature's head, shoving his demonic arm through its nostril and grabbing a handful of Valefor's mane with his other hand. In his efforts, his bow fell to the street, but Niccolo did not care. He turned back to Cadmus, who was approaching with his scythe arm extended.

"Now!" he shouted, leaping toward the lion's neck and grabbing hold of its mane with both arms, pulling back to help his fellow Horseman. Valefor snarled at the pain, but with his feral mind he did not know what was about to occur. Niccolo grunted as he pulled back with all his strength, making a clear line of sight with the reaper.

Cadmus breathed in deeply and tried to force all of his will into his right arm. Reservoirs of energy pooled through his muscles, he could feel Räum's strength added to his already formidable powers, and after just a moment he was ready. When Niccolo pulled on the feral demon's mane, he threw his arm forward with all of his might, sending his scythe in a wicked spin toward the enraged creature. He almost despaired when the lion brought up his paw in front of his face, but the Pale Rider was amazed when his blade simply cut through the muscles, tendons and bones of the limb, slicing through like it was nothing. It continued along its path and sank into the creature's remaining eye, completely blinding Valefor as a result.

Mercy skidded to a stop, amazed at his master's blow, but he was not the only one. Both Cadmus and Niccolo were shaken by the act and watched as the demon's paw fell to the street with a wet thump. With horror, Cadmus realized that if his scythe had not encountered the resistance from Valefor's paw, he very well could have killed his friend. Niccolo let go of the demon's mane and stood on its body, staring at his friend.

"Move!" Crocell yelled from his position, only now able to get to his feet with concerted effort. The Horsemen looked at him, still in shock from Cadmus' strike, but neither was able to interpret it in time. Valefor roared in pain and Niccolo cursed as he realized that Cadmus' scythe had not ended the demon's life. A powerful blow hit him in the back and set him sprawling on the street toward his friend, pain enveloping his senses. The lion had used its wings to rid himself of the pest on his back and stood back up on its legs. Although Valefor was blinded and still had Cadmus' weapon buried in his eye, it was nowhere close to death.

"He's one of the Fallen," Crocell croaked, his right arm crossing his torso and holding onto his left side, clearly in pain. "Blinding him is not enough.

"How do we kill him, then?" Cadmus asked, jumping off of his horse to help Niccolo up. As he picked up his fellow Horseman, they saw Valefor thrashing around, looking for some invisible enemy.

"The heart or the brain," he advised weakly, falling against the wall beside him, his shoulder meeting its surface. "Anything else will just make him angry."

"There's a scythe in his _eye_! Where the fuck is his brain, then?" Niccolo asked, shouting in his anger. Crocell shook his head and swallowed down the blood filling his mouth.

"Valefor is a large demon. His brain, not so much," he said, the corner of his dark lips curling slightly. The Horsemen were only just able to tell that the fallen angel was joking. Niccolo was about to say something when Valefor roared again and jumped into the air, flapping his massive bat wings to rise higher. They watched him pump his wings for a second before Cadmus broke them out of their stupor.

"I... I can't fight him. My weapon is in his eye..." he trailed off, but Niccolo was not concerned with his friend's part in this fight. He noticed that Valefor was sniffing, drawing in huge amounts of air with each breath. Then it turned slightly, seeming to look straight at Crocell, who was staring at his brother solemnly.

"He smells Crocell's blood!" he shouted before running forward, ignoring the pain raging through his back. He jumped as high as he could and mentally shouted at Plague, who instantly understood what his master wanted. Green mist formed out of the air and then solidified into black hair, rotting skin and powerful muscles.

"Nico, stop!" Cadmus tried to persuade him, but Niccolo was past convincing. Plague galloped toward the wounded slayer who had given up on his own life. Wind whipped through the Horseman's black hair as Plague ran faster than Niccolo had ever experienced, but he did not care about his exposed blight or his own safety. When Valefor started to swoop down toward Crocell, Niccolo's only thoughts were about saving the fallen angel.

He was only just able to reach down and tuck his demonic arm underneath Crocell's armpit, pulling him just outside the reach of Valefor's deadly jaws. Plague galloped away as the feral demon crashed into the ground, stones flying in all directions as the impact cracked the ground.

"You're an idiot," Crocell muttered, too weak to shout at his savior.

"You're welcome," Niccolo replied as they escaped from the roaring demon. He could feel Crocell's cool blood spreading through the tunic underneath his own armor and a plan formed in his mind. When he set the fallen onto Plague's back behind him, Crocell seemed to give up, reverting to his usual form.

"Leave me to die, human. Just go get Ronové," he whispered, his strength having left him.

"You know, you have no imagination. That's the only thing you've said since we got here," Niccolo said with a smile. In his thoughts, Niccolo whispered his intentions to his horse.

_Are you serious? I can't_ , Plague's voice echoed through his mind, determined to argue, but Niccolo just shook his head.

_Don't worry; I got this,_ he thought before making his horse come to a stop and leaping off to his right. "Just go, I'll be fine."

"Niccolo, stop, you don't know-" Crocell said from Plague's back, but Niccolo just smiled before slapping his hand on Plague's rear leg, which caused the horse to run away from the threat, his unwilling passenger shouting at him in defiance. "Stop, you beast!"

The smile on Niccolo's face disappeared as he turned to face Valefor. The demon had recovered and was sniffing the air again, blindly turning toward Niccolo, who was standing in the middle of the street. The Horseman shuddered in reaction as he realized his plan was already working; the demon smelled Crocell's blood on his tunic. When Valefor snarled and rose into the air, Niccolo hoped that he was doing the right thing.

"Nico!" Cadmus shouted from the other side of the demon, but the leper ignored his friend. Niccolo only brought his left hand to his side as Valefor continued to rise, blood pouring down from the wounds the Horsemen had dealt. Ooze poured out of Niccolo's rotten arm, coalescing into a rigid handle which he gripped tightly. He brought his arm up above him just in time for Valefor to begin his descent, rushing toward him with a snarl. With a flourish, Niccolo swung the handle across his body, causing a green fluid to form into a bastard sword which he gripped with two hands. It almost broke his concentration when he heard Crocell shouting from behind him, somehow having convinced Plague to stop their escape.

"No, you can't!" Crocell shouted, but Niccolo ignored everything but the enemy flying down to eat him whole. He did not even hear Cadmus' cry as he brought up his blade to his side and pointed it forward, time slowing down as imminent death approached. When Valefor was only seconds away from impact, Niccolo leapt into the lion's mouth, past its demonic teeth, and forced his cruel blade through the roof of Valefor's mouth, hoping that he was not a complete idiot.

Valefor crashed into the ground, sending rocks and stones scattering in his wake and his wings sweeping through the street, which knocked Plague and Crocell off of their feet. Cadmus ran forward, fearing the worst and forgetting he could summon Mercy. He could only think about Niccolo's safety; he could only think about what it would be like to lose another friend.

When he arrived at the giant demon's head, Cadmus fell into despair. He sank to his knees, staring at the demon who was no longer breathing. He could not believe it; he could not believe how stupid Niccolo had been. Two hundred years in Hell and he was still a child.

"The fool..." Crocell said under his breath, staggering toward the reaper drowning in sorrow. "He should have known-" he began, but they were both surprised when a green blade burst out of the demon's throat, cutting down and spraying blood across the ground. The two were stupefied as the blade continued to cut in an arc, withdrawing only to be replaced by a demonic, rotten arm, which pulled away the tough skin of the demon to expose a haggard, moist Niccolo. The Horseman stepped through the wound and vomited, clearly affected by his ordeal, but then stood to his full height after taking a few breaths. He noticed Cadmus kneeling on the ground and cocked his head to the side.

"What?" Niccolo asked, the question breaking the reaper out of his daze. Cadmus pushed himself off the ground and then deliberately walked toward his friend, coming to a stop just a foot away. He stood there staring at Niccolo for a moment, unnerving the Horseman, but in an instant brought his right hand around and slammed it into Niccolo's face.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" he shouted, stepping forward and striking him again. "YOU INCONSIDERATE BASTARD!"

"Stop!" Niccolo protested, which stopped the assault, but Cadmus continued to look at him in fury.

"You could have _died_ , Nico. You could have died. And you," he said, turning to Plague who had walked forward. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"Might surprise you, Rider, but technically he calls the shots," Plague's deep voice resonated.

"Oh, bullshit, you argue like a married couple."

"Look who's talking," Plague quipped, but they were interrupted by the soft voice of a fallen angel.

"You killed him," Crocell said, drawing the attention of all three present.

"So? Someone had to," Niccolo said, but Crocell was not in the mood for light conversation.

"I'm sorry, Nico. I _told_ you to get Ronové. This won't be pleasant," the demon said, which made the Horsemen turn to each other before realizing what Crocell was saying.

"Oh no," Cadmus said just in time for Niccolo's face to twist in horror. He turned to Valefor, who was illuminated by red energy. All four of them looked at the growing aura, the truth dawning on them just before the energy rose into the air and then rushed toward the Horseman of Pestilence.

Niccolo felt like he was getting torn in all directions, feeling the influx of Valefor's millions of years of life. Memories assaulted his mind and emotions rushed through him, making him feel like he was going to break. Fire and pain and misery raged through every muscle fiber, endowing it with a strength he could not contemplate and a potential he could not conceive. His body rose into the air without his control, absorbing the pure energy of Valefor's existence. For that moment, Niccolo thought he was about to die.

Then, in one instant, it was over. His body fell to the ground and Niccolo gasped for air. He tried to hold onto the stones beneath, trying to feel something concrete, but his mind was racing. Niccolo did not know what reality was anymore; he did not know what _existence_ was anymore. It was only after a few moments that he was able to turn his gaze to the three entities around him. Cadmus looked concerned and wary, but Crocell seemed to regard him with suspicion. Niccolo tried to consider what that meant as he turned to Plague, who seemed to be shaking.

_Did you feel that?_ he thought. Plague looked at him and nodded.

_A little. I only felt a fraction of it, but...are you alright?_ Plague's voice resonated in his mind, weak in comparison to his usual tone. Niccolo picked himself up, shaking from the effort.

"Are you alright?" Cadmus repeated verbally, drawing his attention. Niccolo tried to steady himself and breathed in deeply.

"I don't know," he said with all honesty, turning to the fallen angel still looking him over. "What?"

"Congratulations."

"For what?" Niccolo asked, annoyed by Crocell's cryptic nature. The demon shook his head and looked toward his fallen brother.

"Due to your absolutely _insane_ amount of idiocy," he said before turning back to gaze into Niccolo's good eye, the black orbs regarding him with disdain, "you are on even footing with the Fallen."

"Really?" Cadmus asked, which brought Crocell's attention to him. The blue demon stood up, the wounds on his side already starting to heal.

"And there is every possibility you're about to join him. It is time for you to do your job, reaper," Crocell said, bringing Cadmus back to his senses. The Horseman, still in shock from the recent events, walked over to the demon's face and withdrew his scythe. He looked over the blade with worry but brought it back behind his hip, ready to strike. Just before his swing, however, Crocell interrupted him and shook his head.

"Too late for that, Horseman, over here," he said, nodding toward the underside of the demon. Cadmus furrowed his brow at the cryptic statement and began to walk around the massive face, seeing Niccolo staring at something in shock. When he was finally able to see what could do that to his friend, Cadmus understood.

To his amazement, crawling out of the lion's underside was a blue wisp of a demon. While they watched, the ghostly form rose up and started to walk toward them, its features vague and changing with the wind. When it came within a foot of Niccolo, the wisp stopped, almost seeming to reach a solid state. Niccolo could only stare as the ethereal, humanoid face looked at him, but what shocked him was the smile that spread across its features. After a moment, the ghastly apparition continued on its path and stopped between Crocell and the Pale Rider.

"I'm sorry, my brother," Crocell said to the ghost, which made the form flicker to look at him with sadness.

_I'm sorry that it fell to you_ , a whisper came from the ether, causing Crocell to sniff back tears. He failed, letting a single, bright tear fall down his cheek, and the ghost raised its hand to wipe it away, but the mist broke against Crocell's face, failing in its mission. Valefor's form looked down in sadness, but then flickered to look over at Cadmus. _I'm ready._

Cadmus hated when it came down to this. Reapings were difficult when it was just a corpse; when the ghost could stare him in the eye, it was almost impossible. He shook his head, mustering his nerve, and tried to remind himself that this was his duty. As he swung his scythe through the ghostly form, he tried to prepare himself for the onslaught of energy that would come with reaping a fallen angel.

Cadmus was almost disappointed by the effect; it was only a moment before the flood of memories and the surge of power settled. When he found the flow of power to be manageable, he became curious as to why Valefor's reaping would not have the same effect. He looked at his hands, questions raging through his mind, but Crocell seemed to know what he was thinking.

"You have already reaped one fallen, Horseman. Räum was vastly more powerful than you and so the gulf between your souls was a huge distance to cover. Now that his power is yours, it will be easier to absorb the souls of the Fallen. You have much less potential to make up for," the blue demon said, crossing his arms slightly. "And I fear this will become necessary for you."

"What do you mean?" Cadmus asked, shaking slightly from his experience. He looked over to Niccolo, who was still breathing heavily, but he was much more concerned with Crocell, who was staring at him with black eyes.

"I'll take you to speak with Ronové. It's not safe here."

***

Crocell walked in front of them, his wounds had already disappeared and it was impossible to tell that he had almost died. Outside of battle, it did not take long for souls to recover and, as long as the person had a strong sense of self, they could come back from almost anything. Niccolo had seen it firsthand when demons lost arms and legs only to reattach them, but he was currently too distracted by his newfound power to care what happened to Crocell. Every few moments a surge of energy would shock his system and he would have to concentrate just to stay conscious. It was difficult for him to focus on the present and not get bogged down in Valefor's memories, difficult to stay in his own mind.

He did not say a word as they walked toward Ronové's hut, which seemed like the home of a pauper. It did not have the grand nature of Buné's spire or the gratuitous splendor of Eligos' sprawling pavilion. Even Barbas, the unassuming ruler of the Pestilence quarter and Niccolo's mentor, lived in luxury compared to Ronové. The Horsemen kept quiet as they followed Crocell, who reached out his hand to draw aside the drape hanging over the entrance. All three of them had to stoop down in order to cross the threshold, but, once inside, they were able to stretch out to their full height.

Ronové's hut looked destitute from the outside, but the inside was a thing of magic and the entrance opened up to a sprawling, dimly-lit field. They saw the small fire in the pit twenty yards away and continued forward, gaining the attention of the sole presence in the room.

The squat, little demon looked up from the small fire and grabbed the staff that lay across his lap, setting it to his side. Picking himself up, the fallen grunted and breathed out in resignation when he turned to face his visitors. Ronové tried to live a simple life, teaching rhetoric to the poor souls of his domain, and certainly looked the part. His clothes were loose and fell around him, exposing his round belly and giving the appearance of a man without wealth. In fact, the only remarkable thing about the ruler of the Famine Quarter was his staff, which was covered with gold at both ends.

"You are late, Crocell, but I am glad you are here," he said, his voice devoid of passion. Niccolo had to wonder if Ronové could even feel emotions, as he had never seen the fallen angel react to anything. "I trust that Valefor has been given peace."

"He has," Crocell said, coming to a stop at the opposite side of the fire pit.

"A terrible situation, to be sure," Ronové ventured before waving his free hand toward the fire pit and looking at the Horsemen, offering the dry grass as a seat for his human guests. "Sit, young ones, I have not had the pleasure of your company for some time." The Horsemen walked to the pit but did not sit down; they had no idea what to expect from this conversation.

"Ronové, I did not kill Valefor," Crocell interrupted, which caused Ronové to slowly turn his head to stare into the slayer's black eyes.

"You must excuse me, old friend; I must have something in my ears. My poor hygiene has ruined me, yet again. Would you repeat that?" he asked, his expression flickering at the slayer's words.

" _They_ did," Crocell added, nodding to the Horsemen, who waited for the elder demon to react to Crocell's statement. Ronové stood there for a moment, his face stoic, but eventually he sat back down where he had been sitting before, laying his staff across his lap and clasping his hands in front of him. After a moment, he looked at his guests and nodded toward the fire.

"Would you take a seat? It makes me uncomfortable when everyone else is standing," he said before looking back into the fire, bringing his hands up underneath his bulbous nose. All three of them looked at each other for a moment before kneeling down and eventually taking a seat. Crocell and Cadmus kept on their knees, but Niccolo crossed his legs out of comfort. None of them wanted to interrupt the elder's thoughts and just waited for Ronové to stop staring at the flames.

"Which one of you killed the lion?" he asked, not breaking eye contact with the fire licking at the spare logs in the pit. Crocell bit his lip at that, since, as he was the slayer responsible for Dis, he had failed spectacularly. Niccolo was the one to break the silence.

"I did."

"Really?" he asked before looking at the Horseman of Pestilence, his face still absent emotion. "That is odd."

"Why is that?" Niccolo responded, somewhat offended by the elder demon's surprise.

"You were the weakest one. Crocell is extremely powerful, he was made that way, and Cadmus has been reaping for several centuries. I did not mean to offend, young one, but you were not my first guess," Ronové said, panning his gaze over to Cadmus. "Though I assume you performed your duty, or did Niccolo become a jack-of-all-trades?"

"I did what I needed to," Cadmus said, which brought a nod from the stoic demon.

"That's two fallen going feral in the same day, Ronové," Crocell interrupted, but Ronové just turned back to the small fire.

"Yes, that is true."

"And the council is tomorrow," the blue demon added, but Ronové continued to stare into the flames.

"You never were the type to lie, old friend."

"It's happening. There is no doubt," Crocell stated, animosity building in his deep voice, finally causing the squat demon to look at him.

"There is doubt, slayer. There is always doubt; never certainty. That is the way of fools," he said, causing Niccolo to shrug and grab a handful of dry grass.

"We're certain of quite a few things," Niccolo muttered, throwing the grass into the fire and watching the burning embers float up into the darkness.

"No one argues about your foolishness," Ronové commented, drawing a glare from the leper, "but perhaps you can tell me about your certain things."

"There is a conspiracy," Cadmus stated, finally entering the conversation. The squat elder turned to him, his face blank of any emotion.

"Isn't there always?" he asked, but Cadmus disregarded the demon's dismissal.

"There is weight to this one, and from what we've discovered, we need to seriously consider its implications, Ronové," Cadmus made his case, keeping eye contact with the ancient demon. "When I reaped Räum this morning, I gained a number of his memories, but I also inherited one of his visions."

"He was never a good seer, Horseman," Ronové said in his aloof manner, about to turn back to the fire, but Cadmus raised his voice in order to keep the stoic's attention.

"Lucifer _died_. Killed by a man in a grey cloak while the palace was on fire. We talked to Buer and he mentioned the Cult of Ascension. He told us to talk to Crocell, who has now led us to _you_ ," Cadmus stated with fervor, not giving his respect to the portly demon. The Horseman almost thought he had crossed the line, but Ronové's placid exterior broke at the assertions, his eyes widening in fear. He seemed to breathe in with effort before quickly looking at Crocell across the crackling flames.

"Do you _still_ doubt?" Crocell asked, his voice tinged with resentment. This drew the attention of the Horsemen, who looked at Crocell in confusion.

"Why are you not surprised by this? We never told you..." Cadmus started, but Crocell breathed out deeply, his chest shaking with the release.

"The Cult of Ascension isn't just some _rumor_ , Horsemen. I did not need to see Räum's visions or to hear your side of the story to know that they're back. It only confirms what I have seen. The Shroud, the cloaked figure you saw in Räum's memory, is very real," he stated, the flames of the pit reflected on the surface of his dark eyes. "They want Earth, they want to invade, but, most importantly, they want to take over Hell."

"We killed them," Ronové stated, gripping his staff to the point of his knuckles becoming white, but Crocell let out a bark of a laugh.

"We didn't kill _him_. I knew this would be a problem."

"How come..." Niccolo was about to ask, but Crocell knew where the Horseman's mind was going.

"Secrets come naturally to the Fallen, Niccolo. We have existed in the shadows for millions of years. We didn't want it to become public knowledge, but when Adonai announced his plans for the apocalypse, the Cult was not just a rumor."

"But Buer said," Cadmus started, but Ronové interrupted this time.

"The centaur is confined to his archives; the other Fallen mostly keep to the other quarters and provinces. Most of my citizens are former humans; most of my citizens could be swayed," he explained before Cadmus in the eye. "The Famine Quarter was the site of a massacre."

"Massacre?"

"Yes," Crocell said, gritting his teeth. "Many souls were destroyed, banished to oblivion. Nobody was supposed to know, because the truth could start a war across Hell."

"What is the truth?" Niccolo asked, his brow furrowing.

"The Shroud, whoever it was, could turn a soul into a raving beast. He could make them feral. We thought it was a natural process at first, but that was until we saw it with our own eyes," Ronové explained, staring into the darkness above them.

"You saw it?" both Horsemen asked at once, turning to look at each other in amazement.

"The two of us. The Shroud made a public display of it," Crocell said, sniffing at the memory. "He turned his followers into monsters, removing their humanity. It was unthinkable."

"What happened after that?" Cadmus asked, which caused Crocell to bury his face in his hands.

"The Shroud disappeared. He was in the wind," Ronové explained, skipping forward to what he deemed was important. Niccolo stood, shocked at what he was hearing.

"What about the humans?" he asked, his good eye looking between the fallen angels.

"I killed them," Crocell said softly, turning to look up at the leper. Bright blue tears were streaming down his face and the fury left Niccolo in an instant. Crocell was not unaffected by the event; he was not the callous demon Niccolo has always assumed he was.

"So he's back," Cadmus concluded, breathing out deeply, "and he's going to kill Lucifer. They're going to rise up again. They're going to turn demons feral and take over."

"And we cannot stop them this time," Crocell said, which shocked Niccolo back into anger.

"What are you talking about? We know about it. We can do _something_!"

"And what would that be, Nico?" the blue demon asked, slapping the ground with his hands. "We only knew about the Shroud because he _wanted_ us to know. I have been looking for him for a thousand years!" he shouted, rising to his feet. "To top it all off, he has found a way to turn the Fallen themselves! If I went to go fight him, he could _turn_ me. Valefor was just as powerful as I am and the two of you, well, you're _human_!" At the end of his shouting, Crocell fell back to the ground in despair. "The best we can hope for is that the Cult ignores us."

"You're just going to give up?" Niccolo asked, anger flaring inside his mind and the memories of Valefor rushing through him. He felt a massive surge of confidence and almost snarled at the demons sitting around the fire pit. "We have leads. We have time. We can fight them."

"Have you ever fought your own shadow, Horseman? A fool's game," Ronové stated, which caused the leper's blood to boil.

"Then I'll be a _fucking_ fool, you old bastard!" he shouted, walking to the ruler of the Famine Quarter and grabbing the loose cloth by his neck. "Stop trying to be smart and try to fucking help! I will not let Hell be run over by a madman and I will not let Lucifer die!"

"You will not _let_ anything happen," Ronové said as he lazily turned to look Niccolo in his good eye. "You have no power to stop it." Niccolo threw the demon back to the ground and let loose his rage in a primal roar before breathing heavily. He looked at Crocell and his gaze bored into the blue demon.

"You're going to tell me what you know about this Cult. If you're not going to help us, we'll just have to do it ourselves."

"You know everything we do. The most we ever heard were whispers. The most we saw were shadows and blood," Crocell weakly explained. "I'm tired of this. I cannot kill my brothers anymore. The best we can do is survive to see the end."

"Cadmus," Niccolo said with a cold anger, not bothering to look at his fellow Horseman. "Let's go."

"Where?" the reaper asked, rising to his feet. Although he was more polite about it, Cadmus felt the same frustration as his friend.

"Anywhere. We can't waste time, and that seems to be the only thing these two know how to do," he said before turning and walking toward the entrance, which seemed to be hanging in the air. Cadmus followed behind, ignoring the demons and leaving them to their misery.

When Niccolo stomped out of the hut, his head felt like it was about to burst. Valefor was screaming inside his head and, though he could not understand the demon's words, he knew what the lion wanted. Niccolo wanted justice; he _needed_ justice. He just did not know how to obtain it.

"Gah, we gained nothing from that," he yelled kicking at the dirt nearby. Cadmus came up to his side and placed his free hand on Niccolo's shoulder. The leper turned to his right and looked at him out of the corner of his good eye, confused to see Cadmus smiling.

"Not nothing. We know that the Cult of Ascension is real and we know the Fallen fear them."

"What does that do for us?"

"Are you kidding? We might be fighting a shadow, but at least we know it's not in our imagination. If there is a Shroud, there's a soul who hides in it. We're not going to give up like those two," the reaper said before walking away from Ronové's hut.

"Where do we start?" Niccolo asked, not wanting to summon Plague. Walking would clear his head.

"Like you said, we have leads."

"We already reviewed all of them," the leper said in an exasperated tone, but Cadmus shook his head.

"No, we haven't. You and I now have millions of years of memories. Admittedly, we can't interpret most of them and they're almost all irrelevant, but whatever those two saw was enough for the Shroud to turn them feral."

"How are we going to know what's important? And...how are we even going to access those memories? The best I can do is remember flashes of...God, nothing," Niccolo said before looking at the ground, but Cadmus placed his hand back on his friend's shoulder.

"There's more, I can feel it. I had that vision of Lucifer because I think Räum _wanted_ me to know. Do you remember how Valefor's ghost looked at us?" he asked, which made Niccolo look at him in confusion.

"What are you saying?" he asked, not able to comprehend the reaper's logic. Cadmus breathed out deeply before looking down the main avenue and biting his lip. After a moment he looked back at his friend, his expression almost filled with relief.

"The dead are trying to help us."

***

Niccolo was deep in thought trying to remember the life of a fallen angel when Cadmus cleared his throat.

"The harder I try to remember Räum's memories, the further they seem to go. But, I don't know, none of it seems important," the reaper said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "It might be that the only thing he wanted to give me was the vision. Maybe that was the only reason the Shroud got to him."

"Honestly, you might be right," Niccolo said before shoving his thumbs underneath his belt. "I mean, we never heard much from Räum most of the time. Kept to himself. At least you have something specific to look for," he concluded with a frustrated sigh.

"What do you mean?" Cadmus asked, the end of his scythe clacking against the stones of the road.

"Well, you know how Valefor was. He just wandered around trying to prove how much better he was. Said he was _patrolling_ , but he was just looking for anybody who would listen," Niccolo explained, which made Cadmus bite his lip as he contemplated the possibilities.

"That could be it, after all. Maybe he saw something he shouldn't have while he was on one of his... _patrols_. I can't remember the last time I didn't see him in some back alley or tavern wiling away the night," the reaper added, which brought a grunt of assent from Niccolo.

"That's what I'm thinking. Just...ugh, if he's telling me something he's not exactly getting to the point."

"Pretty much the lion's specialty, if you remember," Cadmus said with a slight chuckle. He felt like he had gotten off easy between them; Räum's memories were scattered, but at least he had a defined clue.

"Yeah, it's just that in half of the flashes and glimpses I can't even focus on what I'm seeing. Bastard must have been drunk. The only thing I'm getting is...he's so angry, and it's not just with whoever did this to him. I can tell that he felt betrayed, but he also seems to be frustrated with himself. Like, whatever happened he should have seen coming, or should have been able to stop," Niccolo explained while staring at the ground.

"We all blame ourselves after the fact," the Pale Rider tried to explain, but Niccolo shook his head.

"It's more than that. Crocell was definitely right; the Shroud has to be one of the Fallen. I don't see any way around it. It feels like being angry at my family, like being abandoned by the people closest to me," Niccolo said, trailing off as Valefor's feelings started to meld with his own memories from Firenze.

"I think you need to be careful with how you approach this, Nico," Cadmus interrupted, which caused the leper to break out of his thoughts.

"What?

"The way you were just talking, it seemed like you were losing yourself. We have to remember that the Fallen were extremely powerful individuals. There's potential for us to be swallowed whole."

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do, Cadmus?" Niccolo asked, the frustration coming back to him. "We were _just_ talking about how these are the only leads we have!"

"Look, Nico, we just have to be careful about it. I didn't say we should stop, but even _I_ start to empathize with Räum's emotions during his memories."

"Oh, and you're so much _better_ than me in controlling this, is that what you're saying?" Niccolo shouted in response, feelings of pride and anger flaring at the apparent slight. At the childish display, Cadmus turned and put out his hand in a halting motion.

" _Easy_ , Nico. We're in this together. You and I don't ever need to talk about who is better and you know that," he said in a soft, conciliatory manner. Niccolo breathed out heavily a few times before realizing that the emotions he was experiencing were not entirely his. He closed his eye and tried to calm his mind, focusing on the present. After a moment he nodded and looked back to his friend.

"I'm sorry. That...that wasn't me. You're right, we need to be careful."

"Alright then," the reaper said cautiously, keeping Niccolo in his periphery as they continued along the path. "Let's take a break from mining these memories; we can always come back to them. Let's focus on what we know."

"And what's that?" Niccolo asked, spying a huddled shape ahead of them on the side of the road, the brown colors blending in with the massive jar behind it.

"Valefor liked to boast about his skills, so he liked to visit the taverns throughout Dis. It's doubtful that he would have seen anything in the buildings themselves, but in all likelihood he literally stumbled into some sort of confrontation in the back alleys. Hell, he could have been lying in some gutter and overheard some conversation. We might want to ask some of the demons in the area where Valefor had been drinking."

"Oh, Cadmus, I love it when fortune smiles on us," Niccolo said, breaking into a sly smile. His friend looked at him in confusion, but Niccolo just laughed and nodded toward the huddled shape, which looked to be a starving horse lying on the ground next to the ceramic structure. "If Valefor was sleeping in a gutter, we can talk to the expert."

"What?" the reaper asked, but when he turned to look ahead, he immediately knew what Niccolo was getting at. "Oh, I didn't even realize we were walking this way."

"Well, that's the thing about Hell," Niccolo said, increasing his pace until they were almost to the horse, which looked at them lazily, "somehow you always end up where you need to go."

***

It was only a few moments before they moved past the starving horse and arrived at the overturned jar, its wide rim the size of a doorway. Once they were in front of the massive ceramic, they looked at the creature living inside.

"Diogenes, you scoundrel, how have you been?" Niccolo asked, grateful that they had found someone that might be able to give them another lead. The creature lifted its dirty head, its skin almost the same shade of brown of his residence, but that was due to the man's lack of hygiene. He was thin, emaciated by any standard, had a scraggly beard and shoulder-length, tangled hair. What set the man apart from any other homeless demon were his eyes, they had black irises which blended in with his pupils, but one stare from Diogenes could make anybody think he had seen their soul, judged it and found it unworthy.

"Rather the same, Niccolo," the Greek philosopher said, looking back down to the dog lying by his feet. He set out his hand to pet the creature's matted fur, but the mongrel did not seem to care about the contact; its tail lay still on the ground.

"Not unexpected," Cadmus added, trying to avoid smelling the layers of filth that covered everything inside the jar. "Have you moved in the last few days?"

"I should think so," Diogenes responded, looking back up at the pair of Horsemen. "Manes and I walk around the district when the thought strikes us."

"And what about Despair?" Niccolo asked, nodding toward the weak horse lying down outside the door. The Horseman of Famine shrugged before yawning.

"She does what she wants."

"You're such a waste of a Horseman. You just sit around all day," Niccolo said, which caused the dirty philosopher to laugh and raise an eyebrow.

"You Italians, you're always in such a rush to nowhere. Do you know what a Horseman of Famine needs to do, Niccolo?"

"What?" the leper humored the man, waiting for his answer.

" _Nothing_. That's the nature of famine. Until the apocalypse, my job is to do nothing. Sitting around all day is in the job description," Diogenes explained before settling his hand on the dog's head. "Now, since you've bothered to interrupt my nap, tell me what you want. I've been ridiculed by far better men than you."

"We need to find out more about a certain demon's activity," Cadmus interjected, tiring of their banter. "Valefor. We need to find out what he was up to for the last few days."

"Why would you think I know?" Diogenes inquired, lifting his hand and using it to pick his nose.

"You keep your ear to the ground. Shit, you sleep on it," Niccolo said, shifting his weight to his right leg. "And we both know that the mongrel goes and snoops on people constantly." At the mention of his existence, the dog turned its head slightly and huffed.

"He _also_ does what he wants. He can do without me just as I can do without him," the philosopher said, trying to fit his back against the curve of the jar. "If Manes snoops, he snoops for himself."

"Don't you bother to ask what he does when he's not with you?" Cadmus asked with a tone of desperation.

"He's a dog," the Greek said as he turned to glare at the Horsemen. "I _assume_ he does dog things."

"Why are you so difficult?" Niccolo asked, almost shouting at the man's behavior.

"Me? I was sitting here minding my own business and you interrupted my nap. Don't speak to me about difficulties." There was silence for a moment as the Horsemen tried to figure out how to deal with their brother, but eventually Cadmus sighed heavily.

"Do you know anything about Valefor?"

"Other than his habits of drinking too much and telling people about his glory days?" Diogenes said before scratching his beard, which would likely have been filled with fleas if they were still on Earth. "Not particularly. You remind me of the lion, you know. He would yell loud enough to wake me."

"It's important that you tell us what you can spare, Diogenes. Call it a favor for your...colleagues," Cadmus pleaded, trying to ignore the philosopher's insults. After a moment of consideration, Diogenes grunted and looked back to the reaper.

"The last I heard," he started, lowering his hand to the dog's head and scratching behind its ear, "Valefor was angry about the demons turning feral. He did not care for this apocalypse for which we are going to be responsible. He would yell about how Hell was heading straight for oblivion and blamed the feral demons for it all. Funny, how he ended up being part of that problem," he concluded, raising his hand so that he could cross his arms again. Manes looked up at him after the philosopher stopped scratching its ear, seeming to care about the man's existence after all.

"Do you know _where_ he would complain about all of these things?" Niccolo asked, which drew the gaze of his fellow Horsemen.

"He was a brute, Niccolo. He loved the War Quarter and those games of theirs. The lion would just come here to drink," he said before lowering his head. "Now leave, that's all I could hear from my jar. Time for you to chase these shadows and leave me out of yours."

"Thank you, Diogenes. We'll stop bothering you," Cadmus said as he placed his hand on Niccolo's shoulder. The leper was about to argue, but Cadmus just shook his head.

"Have fun doing nothing and letting the world burn around you," Niccolo said with disgust, which only brought a chuckle from the dirty Horseman.

"That's my job, Niccolo, and yours too. Enjoy your hunt, whatever the prey," Diogenes said before yawning and sinking against the side of his jar. The Horsemen did not waste any more time and started to walk down the avenue toward the War Quarter.

"How did _he_ get to be a Horseman?" Niccolo asked with annoyance, summoning Plague from his mind.

"The Famine Quarter operates by different rules, Nico," Cadmus explained as gathering dust pushed him off his feet. He grunted as Mercy solidified into existence, joined shortly by his dark brother. "Each quarter prizes qualities that would lead to the personification of their ideals."

"Like how you're so damn serious all the time?" the leper added as he leapt onto the back of his equine friend. Cadmus rolled his eyes and ran his hand through Mercy's hair.

"And how you're so damn stubborn and bothersome," he teased with a dark smile.

"So what does he do to personify famine, then?" Niccolo asked as their mounts sauntered down the avenue, the buildings lining the streets starting to move past them. The reaper laughed before turning to his friend and shrugging.

"Diogenes doesn't care about _almost_ anything. Apathy will take you far in political office," he said, which drew a smile from the leper. He was about to respond when a high-pitched, foreign voice broke into their conversation.

"Horsemen! I've heard you've been asking questions," the source said, the very sound feeling oily and greasy to their minds. They turned from looking at each other and found the source of the noise looking up at them with dark, massive pupils in the middle of round eyes. The creature had an owl's face, but the rest of the human-like body was covered in gaudy purple and yellow robes. Only scrawny wings covered in soft feathers could be seen out of the sleeves, but the brightly-colored robes ended at the creature's knees and exposed his birdlike feet.

"Andras. How did I not think you were going to show up?" Niccolo uttered with disapproval. The demon let out a hoot and shook its head.

"You're only human, my fortunate Horseman."

"Fortunate?" Cadmus asked, which caused Andras to snap his gaze over to him.

"Why yes! You have questions and I, Andras, your faithful friend, am always willing to provide answers!" he shouted with joy, but Niccolo only sighed in disgust.

"Only if we pay you," he said, which caused the owl to hoot in delight.

"Well, of course! Did you expect to save the Devil for free?"

_____________________________________________________________

#  Chapter 6: Past - Day of Revelation

"Nico! Nico, you open up this door right now!"

The merchant's son gasped awake, the deep booms of his father's assault on the door reverberating throughout the architecture. He looked around the room, finding that sunlight was shining through the dust hanging in the air, and cursed his fortune. It had been a few weeks since his failed attempt at curing his rotting arm, a few weeks of even more ludicrous ideas Marco had convinced him would work. There had been more pain and misery in those weeks than in Niccolo's entire life, but there had been one consolation.

His father did not know what was going on.

"Niccolo Vespucci! If you do not open this door right now, I will break it down!"

Niccolo jumped off the bed and ran to the pile of loose bandages in the corner of the room. His leprosy had gotten worse over the last few weeks, spreading along the length of his left arm, and it had been necessary to develop a system of replacing and washing his bandages without the knowledge of his father or his servants. He would depart early in the morning and dispose the pus-colored rags into the streets. After that he would buy a few bolts of cloth from a merchant, usually a different vendor each time. Niccolo did not want anyone to recognize his behavior.

"One more warning, Nico, or I truly _will_ break down this door. I can always pay for a new one!" The merchant's son cursed under his breath as he realized that the bandages on his arm were already stained. When he looked through the pile of rags, he realized they all were contaminated. He would just have to pick the cloth soiled the least.

"One moment, father" he said, trying to sound groggy and like he had just opened his eyes. "I may have drank," he said, ripping off the bandages on his arm and wincing as some of the scabs tore away, "a little too much wine." Niccolo did not bother to look at the exposed sores and instead started to wrap a stained bandage tightly around the length of his arm.

"Nico, I'm losing patience. My wrath will only be contained so long, even if you are my son," Carlo Vespucci warned on the other side of the door, his voice a little softer now that Niccolo had responded. Pain resonated throughout Niccolo's arm, but he ignored it as he tied a knot into the bandage. The merchant's son grimaced as he walked over to his wardrobe and threw a white tunic over his head, doing his best to cover the blight on his arm. After a moment, he looked around the room, inspecting it for his father's scrutiny, only just realizing that a pile of diseased rags would be suspicious. He quickly kicked the pile underneath the wardrobe and threw his sheets around them, trying to make his room look like it had an inebriated occupant.

"I fear you more and more each day, father," Niccolo said as he rushed over to the doorway, threw his fingers into his hair in order to make it look even messier and then opened the door for his father, who immediately rushed into the bedroom.

"As you should, Nico," Carlo Vespucci said as he impatiently walked over to the window, turning so that his back was to the open air. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"

"I'm sorry?" Niccolo feigned ignorance, hoping that his father would drop the subject soon and Niccolo could get back to his desperate attempts to cure his arm.

"Nico, it has been weeks since I have seen you for more than a moment at a time. This is not becoming of a merchant's son. There is training to be done. There are skills that must be learned," his father said, crossing his arms before letting his expression soften. "Not to mention that I enjoy your _company_."

"I...I'm sorry. I have been busy with more...youthful pursuits," he said, bringing his right hand behind the nape of his neck, pretending to be embarrassed. "There are some things a father should not know about his son."

"If this is about the indiscretions of youth, I don't need much in the way of education. Your father's blood runs through you, and I'm quite aware of the feelings that go through a man's mind just before his marriage," Carlo said before shaking his head and pacing around the room. "But, Nico, being a foolish, young man does not excuse you from familial obligations."

"I know..." Niccolo started, but his father interrupted him with a quick glare.

"Your brother was _born_ , Niccolo. You weren't here to see it, to be with your family. Allegra is well, if you bothered to care," Carlo interrupted, turning to face his first son. "Your brother will likely grow to be healthy and strong, to the point where I'm considering giving him a name already. He is a bouncing bundle of joy, even if he will soon make a mess of things," he said with a smile, recalling with fondness his first experience as a father.

"Oh, father, I did not know," Niccolo said, which caused Carlo's eyes to fill with disappointment.

"How _could_ you? You have been evasive, disappearing in the early morning and returning only at night. Do you know what that has done to my plans? I wanted your help with the Ponte Vecchio, Nico. I wanted you to take some of the responsibility and make it so I didn't have to run around talking with every single vendor and tradesman in the city. This was to be the first real assignment I was going to give you."

"I...what else can I say, father? I'm sorry. Forgive me, I have no excuses," Niccolo apologized, doing his best to keep his face filled with sympathy. The pain and itchiness from his arm was starting to drive him mad, but he needed his father to remain ignorant. To his surprise, Carlo bought the act and sighed heavily.

"I guess I shall have to, as my father did for me. Remember, Niccolo, that we are men of passion, but we must also be men of moderation. That is where we shall find our success," his father said before walking toward the doorway. "Come with me. Your stepmother is with your brother in the courtyard. It's time the two of you met." Niccolo was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but just before Carlo reached the doorway, he turned slowly and his face was full of suspicion.

"Oh, before we head down, I've heard from Arturo and a number of other vendors that you have been buying wool and linen. Why is that?" he asked, staring deep into his son's eyes. Niccolo stammered, unable to think of an answer for his father's question.

"I-I, it's a personal..." he started, but suddenly his father turned to face him and furrowed his brow. Carlo was vicious and determined once he saw an ounce of weakness; it was the reason for his success in Firenze.

"Personal? Have you taken up textiles, my son? The clothes you wear should be enough..." he started, turning his gaze down to look at his son's clothing, but then his dark eyes stopped halfway to the ground. "What happened to your arm?"

Niccolo looked at his rotting arm and his mind spiraled into despair. Four crimson and yellow patches had started to bloom on the sleeve of his tunic, the bandages hardly stemming the flow of blood. Before he could react, Carlo grabbed Niccolo's hand and jerked it toward him, his eyes filled with worry.

"Nico, what did you _do_?" he asked in desperation, turning his son's arm over and back again, seeing different spots of red working their way through the sleeve of Niccolo's tunic. He set his hands to work, trying to roll back the cloth, but Niccolo was finally able to react and stumbled back toward the far end of the room.

"N-nothing, I...I got in a duel," he said, trying to come up with an explanation on the fly. Carlo only stared at him with disdain.

"With _your_ skills? Only if you were massively drunk would you let someone strike you. And in any case, if my son was going around dueling everyone I would have heard about it!" Carlo shouted, offended that his son was lying to him. "What is the _truth_ , Niccolo?" he demanded, looking around the room for some explanation that did not involve his son's lies. He finally found what he was looking for by the wardrobe; a small, tan piece of linen was lying there exposed. Niccolo tried to make up some excuse, but he could only stare in horror as Carlo stomped over to the furniture and used his foot to drag out the used bandages.

"Niccolo..." he muttered, finally realizing what had happened, his mind reeling in shock. With tears in his eyes, Carlo Vespucci turned to his diseased son and whimpered. "No. No, you can't..." Carlo tried to speak, but he ended up trailing off toward the end. It was a few moments before he sniffed loudly and then stared hard into his son's eyes. "Show me."

"Father," Niccolo started, but his father slammed his fist against the wardrobe.

"Show me, you coward!" he demanded, forcing Niccolo to revert back to a child. The merchant's son took off his tunic, his thin chest seeming to shrink as he could barely breathe. Under his father's scrutiny, Niccolo undid the knot holding the bandages to his rotten arm, letting the putrefied linen fall away. When his rotting, blemished flesh was bare for his father to see, Niccolo could not keep his eyes open. He wanted to die.

"Get out," Carlo's voice came softly, causing Niccolo's eyelids to flutter open.

"What?" he asked, but when he looked at his father, he saw only misery and anger.

"Leave this house. Leave now," the older man said, sorrow seeping through every syllable.

"Father-"

"Now! I need to think," Carlo said, his resolve breaking along with his heart. Niccolo tried to think up some argument, tried to think up some way to make his father forgive him for these lies, but he could not. He loosely wrapped the bandages around his arm once more, he could tie them again once he left, and threw his tunic over his torso before rushing out of the room. Carlo did not want him to be there and Niccolo surely did not want to stay.

Neither man had ever felt so alone.

***

Niccolo ran through the streets of Firenze, but he could not be bothered with the steady flow of foot traffic or the stares of people he had known all his life. He could not care that bloody and putrid bandages were trailing behind him because he had not wrapped them tight enough. Even the gasps of serving women and laborers did nothing to break him from his thoughts.

All he wanted was his life back.

He barreled through one of the markets, his shoulder slamming into the corner of a wagon, but he did not stop even when his tunic ripped at the seam and exposed his bandaged arm. A fisherman gasped at the sight, but it only drew Niccolo's gaze for a moment; the merchant's son only had one thing on his mind. Stares and screams would not stop him from finding refuge at the one place left to him.

"Marco!" Niccolo screamed as he slammed against the door of his oldest friend. He threw his entire forearm into the strikes, the cheap wood almost splintering from the force, but he did not care. Niccolo needed to have someone help him, needed someone to accept that he was still the same person. "Marco, please! I need you!"

"Nico...?" a confused voice came from the other side of the door. Although Niccolo could hear the older man rummaging around his apartment, the merchant's son continued to rain blows down on the door, using his rotting arm without thinking and leaving bloody smears along the edges of the planks.

"Hold on," Marco said, clearly dealing with mental and physical fatigue. When the door opened up, it revealed a man worse for the wear. Although others might have viewed Marco with disdain, the older man was possibly the best thing that had ever happened to Niccolo. He had taken to finding Niccolo's cure with zeal, staying up nights drinking merchants and traders under the table so they would not remember their conversations about lepers. Niccolo was about to burst into his friend's home when Marco blocked the doorway, his eyes wide with fear.

"W-what?" Niccolo asked, taken aback by the older man's sudden wariness. Marco just continued to look at him in horror, but eventually Niccolo found what caused his friend's reaction. Marco was staring down at the bloody mess that Niccolo's arm had become, the sores oozing clear, yellow liquid along with the deep red flowing from opened gashes. Niccolo had not even thought about how his bandages had fallen away, exposing the leprosy taking over his arm.

" _Nico_... how long has it been like that?" he asked, still blocking the doorway. Niccolo shook his head, unable to comprehend what his friend was thinking. He looked back at his arm and finally realized why Marco was staring him down.

"A...a few days...but," he started, but Marco just shook his head in disbelief, his eyes started to glass over.

"Niccolo, that's...that's so much worse than it was after the viper."

"I know, but-"

"Nico," Marco interrupted, looking his old friend directly in the eye, "no one ever comes back from _that_."

"Marco, if you just let me in, we can talk this over. I can explain what we're going to do," Niccolo pleaded, but the man on the other side of the door shook his head, tears starting to pool at the bottom of his eyes.

"I can't... I don't want to end up like you," he said, hesitating on speaking the act aloud. Niccolo's face twisted in horror as he realized what his oldest friend was about to say.

"Marco, no...no! This is something I can fix!" he shouted, starting to reach for his friend with his good hand, but Marco evaded its contact.

"No, Nico, you _can't_. I don't know what you did to deserve this, but...what has happened to your arm...this must be _His_ wrath," Marco explained, religious for the first time in years. It was the only explanation that made sense.

"Marco," the merchant's son pleaded, but his friend just shook his head once more.

"Goodbye, Nico. I am so sorry. I tried...I wanted to help," he said before trying to close the door, but Niccolo slammed his hand between the door and the frame.

"You still can!" he shouted, but his friend rapped Niccolo's knuckles with a piece of metal, shocking Niccolo enough to retract his hand and allowing Marco to slam the door.

"I can't, Nico. Whatever you did, you're paying the price. I cannot share that burden."

"Marco!" he shouted, slamming his hand against the planks of wood, feeling a resistance that could only mean that his friend had his back against the door. "Marco, you open this door!"

"Goodbye, my friend. I hope that you find some way to live with this. Perhaps you can find forgiveness," he whispered on the other side of the door. Niccolo started to kick at the wooden planks furiously, yelling his heart out.

"Marco, you bastard! You good for nothing sack of shit! How long have I known you?! _This_ is how it ends? You slam the door on my face?! You leave me and abandon me to the wind! Just because of a little disease?" he shouted, punctuating every question with a violent mark upon the door, the skin around his knuckles splitting in the effort. By the last question, tears fell freely from his eyes and blurred his vision, but he could only imagine his friend on the other side of the doorway. He could only imagine the expression on that coward's face.

"I can't go with you, Nico. Wherever you go. You're on your own," Marco whispered, his voice wracked by silent sobs. Niccolo continued to beat on the door for a few more desperate minutes, leaving spots of blood all over the cheap planks, but eventually he ran out of anger and hatred. He walked backwards, away from the doorway, and eventually had to turn. Niccolo could not look at the mess that he had made of Marco's door.

It just made his loss all the more real.

***

Niccolo had found his way to a dark corner of the city, away from the prying eyes of the market district, and had grabbed a few hours of rest in the shade. He could not risk the stares of the vendors and their customers, anyone who could recognize him; he could not take any more unwanted attention. If he was going to make his way back to his home, it would have to be after normal business hours. Niccolo just huddled into the corner between two homes near the Arno, hoping he could catch a few hours of sleep.

It had never happened. All the merchant's son could think about was how Marco, his one friend in the world, had abandoned him like this. Niccolo thought briefly of what kind of revenge he would bring to the good-for-nothing drunk once Carlo cooled off, denial was a much better prospect than total hopelessness, but he could not bring himself to hurt Marco even in his mind. Niccolo only wanted to stop this pain.

During his time in the shade, Niccolo had gone about making himself more presentable. He washed the bandages in the Arno, trying to get rid of the stains from pus and blood, and then set them out to dry on a sunlit set of posts nearby. While they dried in the sun and wind, Niccolo thought about what he could say to his father. For a time, Niccolo set about gingerly cleaning his wounds in the river, but his mind was not entirely focused on the task at hand. He could see the construction of the Ponte Vecchio downriver and tried to formulate an argument for his continued tutelage. Carlo had spent so much time on Niccolo already; it would be a waste to throw him away, now. There were not too many cases of successful lepers, but this was the modern age; there could be a cure out there. It was possible Innocenti had given him the wrong kind of viper.

As his thoughts returned to the scheming merchant, Niccolo growled. His "cure" had not been worth a cent, only serving to make Niccolo weak and sick for two days. In return, Innocenti had been granted a very lucrative deal at Niccolo's suggestion. If his father took him back, it was going to be Niccolo's first act to strike down that deal, as the sly devil had not kept up his side of the bargain. After Niccolo cleaned his wounds, he walked back over to the shade and found his mind more than willing to consider revenge for the useless man. As he tried to sleep, he smiled at the possible future where everything went according to plan. His father would be proud, his enemies would suffer, but best of all he would return to being his normal self. In his desperation, even the absurd seemed possible.

When the merchant's son noticed that his bandages were waving freely in the wind, he walked over and examined them. They were still a little damp, but Niccolo figured his courage would not last long; it was time for him to confront his father. He tied the bandages tightly and tried to keep the bloody patches of linen on the inside of his arm. Niccolo would make a better argument for himself if he could hide the worst of it.

After a few moments, he looked at his arm and smiled. The sores still hurt a bit, but his time in the shade had been enough for scabs to form on some of the worst lesions and gashes. He looked at his hand, which he had wrapped as well, and thought about Marco's door. Niccolo would have to apologize for that later.

As he made his way back to the Vespucci estate, Niccolo did his best to avoid eye contact with the people passing by. Due to the state of his bandages, he drew some stares, but nothing like he had during that morning flight. However, it was enough for Niccolo to realize that he would need to find better cover for his arm during the appeal to his father. When he walked past a row of merchants along the side of a building, he tried to find a suitable garment that would obscure his condition.

"Do you...see something you like, sir?" the merchant asked on the other side of the table. He was a rather skinny man with dark skin and hair, clearly of Sicilian descent, but his face was still intimidating. A scar ran along the curve of his jaw, which made Niccolo wonder what kind of man he was about to fool.

"Yeah, I think so. This tunic is quite vibrant..." he said, picking up the garment. Niccolo was trying to maintain some semblance of propriety, but that meant nothing to the merchant. When Niccolo picked up the dark green cloth, the man eyed him warily and his hand went down to the scabbard at his side. Niccolo was only just able to stop himself from breaking his staring contest with the tunic. "It doesn't seem like that great of quality, though."

"You have no sense of taste, then, as this was made by a skilled craftsman."

"Oh, and what craftsman would that be? Does he have a name?" Niccolo asked, staring into the man's cold eyes. The merchant's son had been paying attention to the traffic on the street, using his peripheral vision, and was just waiting for the right moment.

"Well," the merchant said, breaking eye contact so that he could recall the craftsman's name. It was just the moment of opportunity that Niccolo had been waiting for. When the vendor looked down, Niccolo tucked the shirt underneath his arm and jumped backward, narrowly avoiding contact with a woman holding a large pot full of water. Both the woman and merchant were surprised by the act, but Niccolo took advantage of this by taking hold of the woman's shoulder and shoving her into the vendor's table, causing a large amount of chaos in a short time.

"What?" the vendor asked in surprise, but Niccolo was not there to answer him. He had already taken off, sprinting away from the string of merchants and gaining stares from men and women he had known for years. "S-stop him! Thief!" the vendor shouted, jumping around his table, not bothering to help the woman sprawled over his wares. The Sicilian was about to run after him, but then Niccolo turned back to smile.

"Follow me and my friends will take your goods!" he shouted before turning and sprinting through the crowds. Niccolo did not bother to watch the vendor's reaction, but he knew what the Sicilian would do. He would likely stop a few feet away from his wares and debate on whether Niccolo was telling the truth, but eventually would stay to man his stall and abandon his pursuit.

"Stop, you bastard!" Niccolo heard behind him. In his confusion, he looked over his shoulder to see the merchant still pursuing him. Niccolo cursed before running headlong into a group of people, knocking them to the ground.

"Sorry!" he whispered before picking himself up from the angry man that had served as his cushion. Niccolo panicked as he realized that the vendor was the kind of idiot who would abandon his stall, but then he remembered the scar on his face and the knife on his belt. The vendor could very well be the kind of man who would not hesitate to use his blade on a small time thief.

"I'll kill you!" his pursuer screamed behind him. This time Niccolo did not bother to look back and just focused on running through the streets of Firenze. He ducked underneath donkeys and horses, trying to put obstacles in the vendor's path, and jumped over stalls and tables that were in his way.

After a few minutes of pursuit, Niccolo looked over his shoulder and found that the thin vendor was still behind him, although he looked very tired from the effort. It was not much of a relief, however, as Niccolo was also exhausted from the chase. He turned back around and threw himself down a nearby set of stairs, hoping that he had just enough stamina to evade the vendor.

Labored breaths increased in volume as he ran through the narrow alleyways of Firenze, Niccolo doing everything he could to best his opponent. Niccolo cursed between heavy breaths, wishing that he could go back in time and steal from a different vendor. He was not going to last much longer.

Niccolo could see the Arno ahead of him and wondered when he got turned around, but he continued running anyway. If he made it back to the Ponte Vecchio, he might be able to convince one of his father's friends to pay for the tunic. With this new plan in mind, Niccolo tried to sprint toward the open street, but he did not make it. Just a moment after he had decided on this new plan, he was yanked backwards by his collar, which caused him to fall to the dirt of the alleyway.

It was a frantic chaos as the vendor fell on top of him, cursing his name and whatever family members came to mind, but Niccolo was not listening to the vendor's words. All he could see was the tan leather of the man's skin and the wild look in his eyes. The rot in the man's gums was enough to make Niccolo cringe, but he pushed him off with a strong push of his back and legs, sending the older man over his head. Niccolo picked himself up quickly, trying to regain his breath, but it was not long before he realized that the vendor was between him and the Arno.

"Look," he started, his chest heaving as he considered his statement. "I'm sorry, I only... tried to steal...the tunic...because I left my coin purse at home," he said, but the vendor only regarded him with hatred.

"Liar! You're a thief! I'll kill you," he snarled, the words barely recognizable. After the statement he gnashed his teeth and brought out a knife with his left hand.

"Whoa, whoa!" Niccolo shouted, putting out his hands and dropping the tunic to the ground. "It's just a tunic! I promise, I'll pay for it! I'm the son of Carlo Vespucci, I just spent the night with a whore and she stole my money!"

"Just new lies," the vendor said, hunching over and approaching Niccolo with a violent agenda.

"I _am_ Carlo Vespucci's son. I'm Niccolo! He's in charge of rebuilding the Ponte Vecchio, if you didn't know. The bridge that's _right over there_ ," he pleaded, pointing to the end of the street. "If we just walk over there, we can settle this right now. I'll get someone there to pay triple, hell _, ten times_ what that tunic is worth! Just put away the knife..."

"You are a liar, and you are about to be dead. There are things we must accept. Now, you must accept that you have been caught, and that you are about to die at my hand," he stated coldly, only a few feet away from Niccolo. He halted for a moment, trying to figure out his best plan of attack.

" _Twenty_ times," Niccolo tried to negotiate, but the vendor was not going to hear it. Before Niccolo could finish the words, the vendor lunged forward with his knife, bringing the blade toward Niccolo's torso. At the last second, realizing that there was not going to be any conversation, Niccolo turned away from the knife, only just avoiding the strike. Almost immediately the vendor brought the blade back, turning it so that the edge could sink into Niccolo's chest. The merchant's son was lucky, however, as the blade struck against his lowest rib and only cut into the skin.

It still hurt.

"No more talk!" the vendor shouted as he jumped after Niccolo, who had staggered against the wall of the alleyway. He had only just regained his footing when the man was on top of him, but before the vendor could sink the blade into his heart, Niccolo threw up his arms and was able to stop the blade from running through him. Niccolo's face was inches away from the vendor's lips, which were pulled back to expose his rotten gums again. His breath was rank and smelled of fish and disease, but Niccolo could only perceive the blade that was less than an inch away from his sternum.

The two of them grunted as they both fought for control, but after a few seconds of effort the merchant seemed to have the upper hand. The blade crept toward Niccolo's exposed chest, which caused him to panic. He thought about what it would mean to die here, a merchant's son getting killed for not being able to pay for a tunic, and then found a reserve of strength. Although the tip of the blade had been able to prick into his skin, Niccolo brought up his knee into the man's groin, which caused him, and the knife still in his hand, to fall away from Niccolo. He took that time to breathe in and gather his nerves, scrabbling to his feet, but the vendor quickly recovered and snarled at him.

"You fight like a woman!" he shouted before rushing into another attack, but Niccolo was ready for him. When the vendor stabbed at his gut, Niccolo side-stepped the blow and grabbed the man's wrist with his left hand. The merchant growled at the act, but when Niccolo grabbed his throat and then threw his forehead into the man's nose, he yelped in surprise. With blood spraying out of his nostrils, the man staggered backward, which Niccolo used as an opportunity. The merchant's son stepped to the man's left and swung him around, slamming the man's wrist against the wall of the alley. When Niccolo heard the clink of the blade falling against a rock, he knew that his idea had worked.

He jumped down to the ground and scrambled to grab the blade, but almost immediately the merchant was on top of him. Niccolo could feel himself getting lighter and realized that the merchant had grabbed his collar once more and was trying to slam him into the ground. He put out his elbows just in time and the strike was rendered ineffective, but the vendor was not done with him. Niccolo stretched out his right arm and found the knife in his hand, but also found that the merchant had put his hand on top of his.

They struggled for a moment, the merchant trying to grab the knife from his unblemished hand, but neither side seemed to have the advantage. As skinny as he was, the Sicilian was much stronger than Niccolo, which made him more than just nervous.

"You will die, thief," the vendor promised, saliva dripping from his mouth as he wrestled with Niccolo. When the drops hit his face, Niccolo realized that this was not a fight of honor, this was not a fight between gentlemen for some trivial pursuit. This was a fight to the death and the man above him was not going to stop until one of them was bleeding out. Niccolo's brow furrowed as he realized that he could not escape the man's grip, but he knew he had a way to distract him. In a flash, Niccolo brought his bandaged arm up to the blade in his right hand and slipped it down, slightly cutting into the flesh underneath. At first, the vendor was confused why Niccolo had done it, but after a moment he saw the rotting flesh and seeping wounds scattered along Niccolo's arm.

"My God..." he said in shock, backing away from the arm in horror, which was exactly what Niccolo had intended. He sat up quickly and sunk the knife deep into the vendor's gut, which brought a look of pain and anger into his brown features.

"You...you!" he breathed out, his eyes shaking in fury, but Niccolo did not bother to care. He brought the blade down, ripping the man's abdomen in two, and stared into the eyes of the Sicilian.

" _You_. You did this. It was just a _tunic_ ," he said before pushing the man away, watching him squirm as blood poured out of the deep wound.

"Help..." he pleaded out to the air, but his voice was too weak to garner any attention. Niccolo shakily rose to his feet, blood staining the tunic he was currently wearing. He looked down at the red blotch covering his stomach and then turned his attention to where he had dropped his stolen goods. The green tunic was still there, untarnished by their confrontation. Coolly and without emotion, Niccolo turned back to the dying merchant.

"I'm the only one who can hear that. Do you really think I'd spend any more time on _you_?" Niccolo asked before turning away and raising his bloody tunic over his head. He dropped the clothing to the ground before walking over to the green tunic and throwing his arms through the sleeves. Once it was in place, Niccolo turned back to his victim. The man's eyes were fixed on him in anger, but the life had gone from them.

It was only then that the adrenaline left Niccolo and the implications of his actions fully started to affect him. He shook uncontrollably as he felt the dead man's stare. This merchant did not deserve this; he did not deserve to die. Then Niccolo realized that he did not deserve to die, either. He did not deserve to be afflicted by this disease; he did not deserve to be cast out of his home or abandoned by his friends. What happened in that alleyway no one deserved, but it still happened. Something like that was outside of Niccolo's control. As he made his way to the opening of the alleyway, using the wall to support himself, Niccolo tried to convince himself that it was just a matter of survival, that it was outside of his control. However, it all sounded like hollow reasoning.

In the back of his mind, Niccolo realized that a man would still be alive if he had not tried to steal a green tunic.

***

Niccolo looked at his father's estate, his home, and wondered what he was going to say to the man. Carlo had been his father for twenty years and had loved Niccolo for most of them; that should mean something. If it was a matter of love, Niccolo would assume that he had plenty in reserve, but this leprosy was a tricky business. He had to find a cure, and if he approached this conversation correctly, his father would help him.

When Niccolo walked into the courtyard, one of the servant girls noticed him and gasped. He turned in confusion, but she scampered away without saying a word to him. Niccolo tried to remember her name, but it was not coming to him easily. For a moment he felt awful, but that was only until his father appeared from the hallway the servant girl had disappeared into.

"What are you doing back here?" Carlo asked, his voice cold and hard. His son looked at him, his mouth open as he tried to find the words, but eventually he gathered himself for their conversation.

"Father, I know this morning came as a shock..."

"I told you to leave," his father responded, his gaze full of what seemed like enmity. Niccolo shook his head as he put out his palms in supplication.

"I did, father, but I thought I could come back and talk to you in a civil manner," Niccolo tried to explain, but Carlo stepped forwards, shaking in anger.

"You think civility will solve this? There are no words you can say to me."

"Father," Niccolo started, but the older man stomped his foot on the floor and sniffed loudly.

"Stop saying that word! You have no right to say that anymore!" he shouted, which echoed throughout the courtyard. That echo was enough to shake Niccolo down to his soul, causing him to stare at his father in horror.

"Father..." he said under his breath, but at that Carlo walked up to him and back-handed him.

"You have no right, _leper_ ," he said with an air of disgust. "Do you think I will allow that kind of disease into my _house_ , into my _family_?" The question echoed throughout the courtyard and before Niccolo could react, a wail went up from the back room.

"Do you think I will allow my son to be _tainted_ by the thing that came before?" Carlo asked as a shadow appeared in the hallway. It drew Niccolo's eye, and he was shocked to see Allegra walking forward, a bundle of white linen cradled in her arm.

"Father..." Niccolo muttered again, forgetting what had just happened. The grinding of metal filled the air and a silver gleam split the image of Allegra holding her infant son. Only after a moment did Niccolo realize that his father had drawn his sword, holding it with malice.

"I told you already. That word does not belong to you."

"Carlo," Niccolo said, trying to salvage the situation. "I'm sorry. But...this, this is just temporary..."

"Temporary? That _rot_ on your arm is not temporary, boy. That will last with you the rest of your short life. You will weaken and you will die, rotting from within. I don't know what," Carlo said, his voice wavering with emotion. It was only then that Niccolo realized that his father still cared for him, even if he denied it. "I don't know what you have done to slight God in this fashion, but we will not be associated with the blight in your soul."

"There is a cure," Niccolo started, but he felt a sharp pain on the side of his face as Carlo whipped him with the flat of his silver blade.

"Is there? Is there a cure for evil? Is there a cure for the wickedness inside your soul? If there is, by all means find it, but do so on your own. You have no home here. You have no father to help you on your mission."

"I'm your son," Niccolo pleaded, but Carlo shook his head, tears lining his eyes. He pointed his sword back to the infant in his wife's arm.

" _He_ is my son. My _only_ son."

"Father," Niccolo said, pain enveloping his throat as he held back his sobs. He didn't even care if his father killed him for the slight, but Carlo lowered his blade and just looked at the leper in his courtyard.

"That is the last time you use that word. I will kill you if it passes your lips again. Go. Now. Never come back. If I see you again, you will be a stranger to me."

"I'm sorry, Nico," Allegra apologized from behind her husband, but the woman could not look him in the eye. Niccolo would not have been able to maintain eye contact even if she did. For the moment, he could only stare at the baby at her breast, the favored son who now had the future meant for him. Niccolo's eyes were unfocused as he turned around, finally realizing that his life was over. He was no longer Niccolo Vespucci. When he left the estate of Carlo Vespucci, he was not a merchant's son.

He was just another leper.

***

Niccolo found that even the weather would not allow him any sort of reprieve. As he walked away from his past, the sky opened up and rain assaulted him. The people of Firenze abandoned their business in the freak storm, not knowing where this downpour had come from. Clouds had been absent before his exile, but now the sky was filled with them. It did not really bother Niccolo; it just seemed appropriate.

He wandered through the abandoned streets and knew that his world was over. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the disease in his arm overtook him, destroyed what was left of him. For the first time, he wondered if what Marco and Carlo had said was true. He wondered if he had done something to slight God, to offend the Lord. His thoughts fell back to his prayers in the chapel. Niccolo had never been the best worshipper, that was for certain, but there were plenty of other people who were much worse. There were plenty of other people who deserved the blight that was eating through his left arm.

Then he remembered the angry, dead stare of the Sicilian. The man's corpse was probably still there, still staring at an enemy that had long since found its way across the city. The blood that had dried there on the ground was probably seeping out, given new life by the rain that poured from the heavens. That man had died because of Niccolo. He had died because Niccolo wanted to look more appealing to his father, a man who had not even bothered to listen.

Niccolo wept, his tears completely overtaken by the rain pouring onto his face, and realized that maybe he deserved this pestilence on his arm. Maybe he deserved to suffer for his sins. God must have seen that he was not worthy of affection or kindness. He must have known that Niccolo would kill a man at the slightest provocation. Niccolo sank into despair as he fell onto his knees.

He prayed again, not aloud but in his mind. It felt more pure than to ask with his voice. As the rain fell around him, he looked to the heavens and closed his eyes, praying for forgiveness. He prayed that he would eventually find absolution or salvation. He prayed that God would find him worthy and take this blight from his soul.

However, when he looked at his left arm, the wounds were still there. The sores and gashes wept with him as the rain fell onto the exposed skin; the thin line left by the vendor's blade was a muted red in the poor light. His prayers went unanswered, but Niccolo knew that would happen. God had not only abandoned him, he had punished Niccolo for some reason. A prayer in the middle of a road would not be enough to reverse his fortune.

Niccolo picked himself up and continued to walk down the streets of Firenze. He shivered as the cold started to get to him and realized that he would need shelter. Eventually, without some sort of covering, Niccolo would succumb to the cold and death. It almost seemed appealing, given his situation, but the leper shook the thought from his mind. He was not ready to die; he was not ready to face his final judgment.

Then he realized that there was one more person in Firenze who might show him compassion. Marco and his father were no longer men he could count on, but perhaps what he needed was not a man at all. Niccolo burst into a run down the street, determined to find the one person who could help him in his dire situation.

He ran to the woman who loved him.

When he reached the Gherardini estate, he looked up at the building in relief. Camilla would be up there, no doubt, and it was merely a task of reaching her in time. The servants would not let him in like this, but luckily, Niccolo had never needed servants to do anything for him. He walked up to the nearby tree and climbed, the slick bark more than just annoying, but he would not be stopped by a little inconvenience. It was only a moment before he reached the last branch. He took a deep breath, knowing that the rain would make this difficult, but he had done this too many times to consider that he would fail now.

His fingers found purchase on the windowsill, though his grip almost faltered because of the water. However, he soon pulled himself up and over, softly lowering his feet onto the floor underneath. He would need to be even more careful than usual, as his capture would not be received kindly on this occasion. With just a few quick steps, Niccolo found his way to Camilla's door. Unlike any other time, however, Niccolo did not bother to knock. He just opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

"Wha- what are you doing here?" Antonio Gherardini asked in shock. Niccolo was just as surprised to see the merchant standing there at the foot of Camilla's bed and he almost did not notice Camilla sitting behind him.

"Niccolo!" she shouted, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Get out of here, scoundrel!" Antonio shouted, but Niccolo shook his head in his confusion, sending water droplets from the ends of his hair.

"I... Camilla," he started, but Antonio did not let him finish.

"Did you hear me, leper? I said leave at once!" he shouted as he stepped over to Niccolo. He was about to grab at the young man's collar when Niccolo reacted and swept under the merchant's arms, backing away slowly.

"Master Gherardini, I'm sorry! I just needed to see Cami-"

"You will leave here, Niccolo," Antonio said, his chest heaving with a heavy breath. His hand strayed down to the scabbard at his side. "Or I will kill you."

"Father, no!" Camilla shouted from the bed, but Niccolo put out his hand to stop her from continuing.

"I came to talk to the woman I love," Niccolo stated, but Antonio merely laughed at that.

"What do I care who you _love_? My daughter will have nothing to do with you from now on."

"Father..." Camilla said under her breath, but Antonio seemed to shake with anger.

"You will have _nothing_ to do with this man! He is dead to you!" he shouted, drawing his sword with fury. "I will not have my daughter consorting with a leper!"

"I love him," Camilla pleaded, but her father slammed his fist against the wall nearby. After a moment, his breathing came back under control, but his gaze was still fixed on the dripping man standing in his daughter's bedroom.

"You will learn to love again, Camilla. This one does not deserve what you've given him."

"We-" Niccolo started, but the merchant yelled before he could continue.

"Did I _ask_ for you to speak? You are an intruder in my home. You are standing...you have invaded the sanctity of my daughter's bedroom for the last time!" he shouted as he rushed forward, his blade swinging down from Niccolo's right. The leper reacted quickly, withdrawing his knife and using it to parry the blow, but he was still facing a larger man with a better weapon.

"Father!" Camilla cried, but Antonio continued his assault with a thrust toward Niccolo's midsection. Luckily for Niccolo, he had been trained well in swordplay, so he evaded the strike and then ran forward, grabbing Antonio by the throat and shoving him toward the wall, causing Gherardini to drop his blade. He stared down the larger man with murder in his eyes and a knife held against Antonio's throat. Even then, the merchant was not filled with fear; his dark eyes promised only violence.

"Do it, then. Do it, you _devil_ ," he urged, not caring for his life.

"Nico," Camilla said from his other side. The leper turned slightly so that he could look out of the corner of his eye. Standing there in misery, the two men she loved locked in mortal combat, Camilla was a mess. Even then, Niccolo thought she was just as beautiful as she was that moonlit night when she agreed to marry him.

"Camilla," he muttered, forgetting that he held a man's life in his hands.

"Let him go," she pleaded, streams of tears running down her olive skin.

"He was trying to kill me," he said, his bandaged hand tightening its grip, bringing a strained grunt from the merchant.

"He's my father. He was protecting me."

"I would never hurt you," Niccolo said, his face contorting in misery. Camilla gave him a sad smile at that.

"I know, my love. I know."

"I love you," he said, his voice wavering from the effort. The dark-haired girl nodded.

"And I love you," she said. "And I love him. Please, let him go," Camilla pleaded as she walked forward. Eventually she put her hand on the side of Niccolo's wet face and bit her lip, which caused his stomach to turn with affection. He felt the warmth of her skin against his cheek and almost closed his eyes, but at the last second he remembered the man in his bandaged hand. He turned to look Gherardini in the eye and sighed before letting go, picking up the blade at their feet and backing away. Antonio breathed out in a mixture of relief and fear and then walked sideways over to Camilla's bed, his daughter holding his elbow.

"Thank you, my love," Camilla said, guiding her father to sit on her bed. After she set him on the mattress of feathers, she walked over to Niccolo and placed her hands on each side of his face. "From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for sparing him. I thank you for the time you've spent with me. My life would have been so much less without you."

"Camilla," Niccolo said, not wanting to understand why she would say such things. Then he realized sorrow remained on her face.

"Niccolo. Goodbye. I...hope you don't think of me poorly," she said as she broke eye contact and looked at the floor.

"What are you saying?" he asked, knowing the terrible truth that she was unable to speak. Tears came unbidden to his eyes. When they fell, they simply blended in with the rainwater on his face.

"I cannot marry you, Nico. I know you understand. I know it's cruel," she said, bringing her gaze back up. "I love you, Nico, but I cannot be with you."

"Camilla, this is...this isn't the end," he argued, waving around his rotting arm, but Camilla just shook her head.

"I'm afraid it is, my love. You will have to live without me, just as I must live without you."

"Please, Camilla, I love you!" he urged, forgetting the man on her bed. It was just the two of them in that room.

"I know, my love," she said before sniffing back tears. "And I will always love you. But that's not enough. I cannot live with a leper. I cannot even risk kissing you," she said before turning away and walking to her bed, sitting by her father. "Please, leave, Nico. There's nothing here for you."

"Camilla," Niccolo whimpered, his voice barely audible over the rain pouring all over Firenze. When the girl looked back up at him, she could not speak another word. She did not have to; the expression on her face was all Niccolo needed to see.

He ran out of the room and back to the windowsill, seeing guards already coming up the stairs. Niccolo cursed as they rushed forward, not even able to take a moment to process the fact that the love of his life had just refused him. Before the guards reached him, Niccolo had already jumped out the window and reached for the nearest branch.

Because of the bandage on his hand, his fingers slipped on wet bark and instead of catching hold, Niccolo fell like a ragdoll down the tree, his back, arms and legs taking each impact badly. When he landed on the ground he felt ten different kinds of pain, but he knew he could not lay there. Gherardini's guards would likely pursue and kill him, no matter what Camilla could say to them. Niccolo picked himself up, knowing that at least a few bones were broken, but that was not the worst of it.

A few bones were nothing compared to what he had just lost.

#  Chapter 7: Of Beasts and Demons

"What do you need, Andras?" Cadmus asked, tracing the hard line of his jaw with his thumb and hoping the owl _actually_ had something for them. Andras hopped on his scrawny legs and rotated his head so he could look at the reaper.

"Just your assistance on some matters down at the Pits," he said before ruffling his feathers.

"What kind of matters?" Niccolo asked as he spurred Plague toward the War Quarter. Whatever Andras had to offer them, it seemed they would have to visit Ajax and his mentor at the pavilion.

"Oh, a few wagers went poorly on my end," Andras said as he hopped along with the Horsemen, his talons clicking along the cobblestones. "I merely need your help in...winning the day's tournament and getting me back on my feet, as it were."

"You don't have feet," Niccolo said, not bothering to look at the demon with the owl's shape. That did not stop Andras from gasping and fluttering his wings.

"That is a matter of _choice_ , Horseman! I could have feet if I wanted. I just have always enjoyed the owl. They're wise, you know," he said, his voice taking on a tone of austerity.

"So you're saying you like to pretend," the leper teased, looking at Cadmus on Andras' other side. The reaper stifled a laugh, but Niccolo could see the slight turn in his lips.

"Mere wit will not help you, Horseman, especially if you want to save your precious father figure. Tell me, Niccolo, what is it like to have the ruler of Hell pandering to your every wish? I assume it must be great to look up to daddy Lucifer," Andras mused, his mockery making Niccolo's eye twitch.

"He's not my _daddy_ , Andras, and you might want to have some respect for the man."

"Man?" Andras asked, devolving into a series of hoots which meant the demon was laughing. "You forget what kind of _thing_ you're dealing with. Lucifer is no more a man than the horses you are riding on. In fact," Andras said as he looked to Plague and Mercy, "we might have more in common with these beasts of yours."

"So you want us to win a tournament for you?" Cadmus interrupted, drawing the attention of the owl.

"Yes, some of the creatures in the War Quarter are getting unruly, along with some of the lesser humans, so they're having a big slaughter to commemorate the meeting of the Council. Eligos is hoping a bloodletting will allow us all to get back to business."

"Slaughter?" Niccolo asked, which caused Andras to twitch.

"Oh, they're _calling_ it a tournament, but there will be plenty of blood. Just you wait. In fact, if you wish to know more about what _I_ know, you'll be responsible for quite a bit of it."

"How do we know that you can tell us anything that we _don't_ know?" Cadmus asked, looking over the owl with suspicion. "Why should we help you with your debts?"

"You want to know what Valefor was doing. You want to know who you should talk to before the Council starts. You want to know who might want Lucifer dead, and once you know that, you want to know how to stop them," Andras said before flitting ahead and continuing to walk, his talons clicking away at the pavement. He shocked both of the Horsemen by turning his head around completely and continuing their conversation. "It's quite obvious, and luckily I'm in the business of information. You scratch my back and I will scratch yours."

"Why can't you just tell us? Lucifer is your ruler, too," Niccolo suggested, which brought a short hoot from the demon.

" _I_ didn't elect him, and it doesn't much matter since the end is nigh and all of that business. Besides, the two of you can help fill my coffers and get me back into the higher social circles. I see no reason why I can't make some money off of this and, besides, a man must eat."

"It's been quite a few years since you've been a man _or_ had to eat, Andras," Cadmus remarked, which caused the demon to turn around his body to match his head, ruffling his feathers in mock indignation.

"See, I like you, this is why I'm going to help. But first, you have to help me," he said before violently shaking and hocking up a small rodent. After a few breaths he looked back at Cadmus with a look of pleasure. "And I don't need to eat; I just like how it feels."

"If we fight for you, you'll tell us everything?" Niccolo asked, Andras looking back at him with a smile in his eyes.

"Well, of course! If you make me rich again, I will tell you all you need to hear!" The Horsemen shook their heads at the bird's antics, but continued to ride toward the War Quarter. It was impossible to trust Andras, but from time to time he could prove useful.

As they walked away, none of them noticed the scrawny, grey shape that followed after them.

***

The pavilion was sprawling, almost a square mile, but the Horsemen could hear the screams of dying animals before they reached the outskirts. Eligos had set up his tents thousands of years ago and on a lark had created fighting pits right in the center. Over the millennia, his pavilion had proven to be the main source of entertainment in Hell and more pits had to be created as interest increased. Eligos had finally put a limit at twelve arenas, but by then the pavilion had covered a third of the War Quarter.

Due to the tournament, the entire pavilion was packed with demons trying to fight or bet on the matches. The only reason Niccolo, Cadmus and Andras were able to pass through the crowds was because they were Horsemen, but it was still difficult. They had dismissed Plague and Mercy at the edge of the camp, but even then they had to fight their way past fallen and former humans alike.

When they reached the first pit, Niccolo almost could not breathe because of the stench. In the pit, burly janitors were sweeping up the remains of a hellhound and a war elephant and their flesh seemed to be decomposing already. Niccolo tried to ignore the smell and turned to Cadmus and Andras, who were speaking with Bifrons, one of the organizers of the tournament.

"Andras, you know your money hasn't been good here for a century," the demon grumbled, his voice gravelly as if he was grinding two stones together. That was due to his face being made up of different minerals and rocks, just like the rest of his body, which was decorated by vines and undergrowth that had sprouted throughout the cracks. Since Bifrons had been in Hell for three thousand years, Niccolo could only assume the demon liked it that way.

"I'm asking for credit, old friend," Andras pleaded, causing the stone demon to rumble with laughter.

"That's even _worse_ , Andras. Look, just enjoy the show, we got a few demon pups taking on a trio of Claws in just a moment," Bifrons rumbled as he turned to take a tall, gangly demon's bag of coins. "On the Claws?" he asked, to which the tall demon, completely covered in a red and black robe, nodded.

"A line of credit! I only ask for half. My entrants will more than make up for your money, I swear!" Andras shouted, grabbing at one of the vines hanging from Bifrons' arm.

"Someone's fighting _for_ you? Who'd be that stupid?"

"Um," Cadmus volunteered, eventually tapping his scythe on the ground. Bifrons looked up and furrowed his brow at the reaper.

"Oh, I _hope_ you're kidding," he said, his shoulders slouching after the realization. Niccolo made his way over to his friend's side, narrowly avoiding the snap of a hellhound's bite, and then put his right hand on the reaper's shoulder.

"Both of us. Andras has a silver tongue," he said with a smile, but Bifrons did not look amused. The living stone just turned his gaze down to the owl a third his size.

"They're Horsemen, Andras. They can't be part of this," he said, but Andras just flapped his wings and settled on Cadmus' scythe.

"That's absurd! You're letting plenty of humans fight!"

"They're not _Horsemen_ , Andras. That would be rigging the game," he said before walking up to them, the shifting of his body causing pebbles to fall. Andras just ruffled his feathers and pointed to his left with a wing.

"Are you kidding? Seere fights in the pits every day! They're just humans!"

"What if they _die_ , Andras? Lucifer would have my head if these two don't make it out," Bifrons said, crossing his arms, but Andras just jumped down and held onto the demon's arms with his talons.

"If they die in a little tournament, they don't deserve to be Horsemen, Bifrons! C'mon, stop this nonsense! I heard Mammon's fighting, too! If the Hellborn can fight, so can they!" Andras shouted, which prompted the stone demon to grab him by the collar and then threw him into Niccolo's arms.

"Quiet, you bastard! Fine, if it stops you from making a scene, you can enter them in, but if _any_ of this comes back to me, you're not using the Pits again, you hear me?" Bifrons asked in a hushed tone, to which all three nodded.

"Mammon's fighting?" Niccolo asked, causing the demonic owl in his arms to squirm so that he could look at him.

"Thought you'd like that! See? It's not like I'm the only one who gains something from this," Andras exclaimed before jumping out of Niccolo's arms and landing on the ground.

"You should have led with that," Cadmus said before running his hand along the edge of his scythe. Andras only preened his feathers before looking back up.

"Oh, you and I both know one should always keep a trump card. Anyway," the owl said before looking at the stone demon, "when can they start?"

"Well," Bifrons grumbled before looking down at his sheet, "I guess they can go after this one. Should be a quick fight; most humans don't deal with the Claws too well."

"Excellent," Andras said before hopping around and looking back at the Horsemen, "just stretch or something, whatever you Horsemen do, and then we'll get this all started."

"Whatever," Niccolo muttered before looking into the pit. The construct was about fifteen feet deep and lined with wooden planks to keep the dirt from sliding in. While the four of them were talking, two lightly-armored demons had entered the arena and were beating their chests, confident in their abilities. Niccolo looked at the two men and smiled, realizing they had only been in Hell for a few years; one had the snout of a pig and the other man had likely not changed his appearance at all. The Claws would make short work of them.

"Hah, does this remind you of anything?" Niccolo asked the reaper by his side. He was still smiling when he looked over at the reaper, who was a little more pale than usual. "Cadmus, you alright?"

"Oh," Cadmus snapped awake, the question freeing him from his memories. "Yeah, yeah it does remind me of something. I think that's the problem."

"Aww," Niccolo said as he threw his arm around the man's cloaked shoulders, "don't worry. We're gonna be fine down there. Hell, unless we come up against Mammon or Seere, this might just be fun."

"Nico, you...it's not something I can just _get over_. It's how I...died," Cadmus said as he gripped his scythe tightly, but Niccolo shook the man's entire body before glaring at him.

"Cadmus. _Buddy_. You were a damn good gladiator before you got torn apart by lions. Probably not a fond memory, but nothing to be ashamed of. Now you know the pros and cons of being a Christian. And if you don't remember, we just got rid of the granddaddy of all those big cats, so buck up," he said before lifting the reaper's chin by tapping it with his diseased hand. "Besides, you're now one of the most feared humans who ever lived. Who _cares_ how you died?"

"You're a child," Cadmus said, staring at the men shouting out their bravado in the blood-soaked dirt.

"And you're a grandpa, but you're my grandpa," Niccolo said with a grin, but Cadmus just shook his head at that.

"That's far too disturbing on too many levels," he said before shrugging off Niccolo's arm, the leper playing at being offended.

"And why is _that_?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking at the men below, who were preparing for the animals which were already pushing against the gate to the pit.

"We lived in the same area, more or less. I might _actually_ be related to you," Cadmus said, keeping his eyes on the metal bars that rose up to let the Claws into the pit. Niccolo scoffed at the ridiculous statement, but did not look at his friend.

"Congratulations, you just made it weird," he said, but his voice was drowned out by the cheers of a hundred demonic spectators. The first Claw made its way into the pit, its pincers clacking as it threatened the demons watching it with fear, their confidence eradicated by the reality of the situation. It was a fearsome beast, a demonic cousin of a crab, but it was the size of a bear and spikes jutted out of its shell in deadly patterns. While it normally resided in the lava flows around the edge of the War Quarter, the pit masters used them for gladiator matches and outfitted them with certain "improvements." Whenever a Claw killed the gladiator it was fighting, the masters would flense the skin of the demon and drape it over the beast, creating an animal best reserved for nightmares.

In a flash, the Claw, which had five very human-like faces draped over its mouth, rushed toward the demon with the pig snout. The warrior trembled at the sight, but when the crab was within striking range, he finally reacted, rolling underneath the creature's deadly claws. He brought down his hammer with a great deal of force, which cracked the hellish chitin, but almost immediately his head turned skyward and he shouted in pain. The Claw had raised one of its legs and brought it down on the young demon's foot, which provided little resistance for the dagger-sharp leg.

"Saw that coming," Niccolo commented as the creature lifted its leg out of the demon's bleeding foot and brought its other claw around to clamp down on the demon's midsection. The crowd shouted as the demon's friend jumped on the back of the Claw and slammed down his blade into the creature's back, causing it to rear back in pain.

"That wasn't too bad," Andras said to Niccolo's left, but both of them knew the fight was not over. While the demons were preoccupied with the hellish crab, two more Claws had entered the arena, slowly skittering to help their fellow crustacean. "But they're goners."

The demon with the pig snout had backed away from the Claw that was spinning around, but he had not gone far enough. While it was turning, trying to deal with the warrior on its back, the creature brought the back of its right claw across the demon's head, cutting deep into his face and removing the end of his nose.

"What a weakling," Niccolo muttered before looking away from the coward screaming in pain. The Horseman looked toward Cadmus, who seemed to be having a difficult time with the display; he was breathing in heavily and shaking while he watched. Niccolo was about to console the man, but he turned when the crowd cheered. He had just missed the pair of Claws rush up to the bleeding demon and cut him into quarters before shoveling the pieces into their cavernous maws.

"Damn," he said in pure reaction, but instantly regretted it. Cadmus was not taking this well, and Niccolo certainly did not want to enjoy it while his friend suffered. In a desperate effort to console his friend, Niccolo tried to distract him. "Hey, Cadmus?"

"Y-yeah," he said, his gaze breaking from the horrific scene in front of him. He had been trying to watch the other demon as he brought his blade down into the creature's brain and removed it from the fight. It was a much better alternative to watching the Claws eat their prey.

"So, um," Niccolo faltered for a moment, but then looked the reaper in the eye so he could distract his friend, "so why aren't you always at the Pits? Demons die here all the time. I would think someone needs to reap them," he asked, gaining his friend's attention for the moment.

"Well, just like how not every human makes it to Heaven or Hell, not every demon stays on after death. Only the strongest people leave behind...souls..." he tried to explain, but he trailed off as he turned to watch the warrior fighting all alone. Niccolo turned and saw the former human hunched over with his blade pointed out, completely terrified by the two monsters clacking their pincers on the other side of the arena. The crowd gasped as one of the Claws rushed over to the human, who just barely jumped over the dangerous pincers and rolled over its back, only to be faced with the other creature raising its claws. The demon brought up his blade to ward off the attack, but his sword could not match the sheer power of the hellish creature. The blade shattered in his grip and the power behind the hammer blow caused him to go sprawling into the dirt, blood seeping from wounds in his forearms.

"That's rough. Well, it won't be too long for us, now," Niccolo said as he turned to the reaper, who was visibly shaken by the violence occurring on the sand. "Whoa, are you alright?" he asked, but Cadmus stopped shaking and his eyes focused.

"Not again," he muttered before whipping back his cloak and then leaping from the edge of the pit, his scythe held to the side.

"Cadmus!" Niccolo shouted, but he did not jump after the man. From his own experience, he knew what it was like to stop a Horseman on a mission. The Pale Rider landed on the floor of the pit and sent sand flying in every direction, but he quickly got to his feet and rushed toward the nightmarish crabs descending on the lone warrior.

"What the _hell_ is he doing?" Bifrons shouted from the top of the pit, but Cadmus could not care about rules at a time like this. It was far too similar to what had happened all those years ago in Rome. He would not stand for this display of brutality.

"Hey!" he shouted, drawing the attention of the two hellish crustaceans, which had cornered the demon against the wall of the pit. They turned, snarling at their new enemy, and clacked their pincers menacingly. The one closest to Cadmus was on his left, but the reaper just ran past the beast even as it swiped at him with its massive claw. He merely twirled his scythe and knocked the deadly appendage away before coming to a stop in front of the other crab. It roared at him, its horrific mandibles stretching away from its maw and the three faces tied across its top shell silently screaming at him, but Cadmus was far from frightened.

In Hell, the beasts should fear him.

The Claw brought its right pincer at him blindingly fast, but Cadmus had already started bringing down his scythe toward the shoulder joint. It connected and sliced through with a crack of the creature's shell, causing the crab's arm to go flying off into the sand. Cadmus did not bother to wait for it to roar in pain and instead brought his blade underneath the creature's bottom shell, pointing his blade at its belly. When Cadmus brought up the scythe in a wicked arc, splitting the front of the creature in half and causing blue blood to spray from the cracks in the chitin, the crowd cheered in pure bloodlust.

Cadmus heard the creature approaching from behind him and continued the half-moon arc of his blade, but was surprised when he met resistance at the top of the swing. The creature had grabbed the handle with both claws and roared at him, its mandibles snapping instinctually. Before he could even react and try to wrestle the scythe away from the creature, it stopped moving and blood leaked out of its wide-open maw. The creature sank down, having released the scythe, and Cadmus finally realized what had happened. Three black arrows were buried deep into the creature's top shell, centered where the brain would be.

Looking up from his opponent, he saw Niccolo holding his black bow, a look of disapproval twisting his blemished face. Cadmus almost laughed at the reversal; Niccolo was always the impulsive one. After breathing in for a moment, he looked past the dead Claws to find the demon he had saved, who was frantically trying to hold onto the wooden planks behind him while staring at Cadmus in horror.

"We're taking your place, I hope you know," he stated firmly before turning back to Niccolo and sighing. He could see Andras somehow smiling and Bifrons regarding him with disdain, but Cadmus did not care; the reaper would not allow creatures to fight unarmed men. After picking up his blade and setting the end of the handle on the sand, he regarded the demonic crowd gaping at him.

"Do any of you think that you can beat me or Niccolo in a duel? Do you think that you can fight us on these sands and hope to walk away the victor?" he asked, his voice booming out and echoing off the walls of the arena. The demons above him looked dumbfounded, so he slammed the end of his scythe against the ground once more.

"DO YOU THINK YOU CAN FIGHT US?" he shouted, which brought a chorus of "no" and a number of shaking heads. "I DIDN'T THINK SO!" he continued before looking at the stone demon.

"Let's get this over with, Bifrons. Nico and I have things to do," the reaper said before walking to the edge of the arena and then jumping up to the top with one movement. The stone demon looked at him and sighed before shaking his head.

"This is what I was talking about, Andras," he said with his gravelly voice, but Andras just hooted before looking at his two recruits.

"I knew I could trust you."

***

They were only standing in front of Eligos' throne for ten seconds before a massive slab of iron slammed into the bricks in front of the Horsemen. Neither moved from their place, but an errant brick did roll over Niccolo's foot.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" Ajax roared from the side of the throne, his crimson helmet shaking from the vibrations of his voice. The slab of iron was wrenched out of its place and flew toward the armored warrior, who had used the chain attached to the handle to make it soar back to his hand. Ajax stalked toward the Horsemen, ripping off his helm to show the anger etched into the lines of his bearded face.

"Nice to see you, Ajax. I see you're already drunk," Niccolo said, turning to meet the warrior, but Ajax was not amused.

"THE HORSEMEN ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE TOURNAMENT, YOU BASTARDS! WHY DO YOU THINK I'M NOT IN IT?" Ajax shouted, spit flying from his mouth and gathering around his crooked teeth.

"I never said that," the demon on the throne said before standing up, causing the armored man to whip around and glare at him.

"What? Yes, you did..." Ajax said, completely flustered by the fallen angel's statement. The larger demon just shook his head before putting his thumbs underneath the harness for his chest plate. He was lightly armored, only dressed in a chest plate with a leather skirt, gauntlets and grieves, but he was somehow more intimidating than the crimson Horseman.

"No. I said _you_ couldn't be part of it," the fallen angel said before looking at the other two men standing beyond the crater made by Ajax's great sword. Though his face was marred by wrinkles and crows' feet, the fallen still looked quite formidable. Wisps of gray were streaked through his hair, which was pulled back into a short ponytail, and his beard was dusted with white, but it was the eyes that betrayed his age. Staring into Eligos' silver eyes was like looking into a deep well.

"How is that fair?" Ajax growled, but Eligos just turned to his student and breathed out deeply.

"You're in the Pits every day, Ajax. There's nothing exciting about you killing a nightmare or a dragon," he said before waving his hand over the numerous demons that had come to see the confrontation in the middle of the pavilion. "These violent citizens of mine can see that whenever they want."

"If they can fight, so can I!" Ajax shouted, but Eligos just shook his head as he walked around Niccolo and Cadmus, who were almost afraid to speak to the fallen angel.

"I don't let you fight for the same reason that Amon is not allowed to bet," he said before nodding at the raven-headed demon who was sitting at the edge of the crowd.

"I told you that my visions aren't that specific!" he cawed, but Eligos just looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"C'mon, brother, you and I both know that you wouldn't have come here if you couldn't _somehow_ predict the outcome," Eligos argued, but Amon just shook his head before looking directly at Niccolo and Cadmus.

"I told you why I came here. I knew _they_ would be here making a mess of things," Amon said with an undertone of violence, but Eligos simply laughed.

"Hah, and you were _right_. I fail to see why I should let you bet if _that_ came true," Eligos said before continuing his walk around the two Horsemen.

"You bastard...you BASTARD!" Ajax said before springing forward and swinging his slab of iron at his teacher. Niccolo and Cadmus tried to react, but before the blade could reach the fallen, it flew straight into the air and the point of a thin blade was pressed against Ajax's throat. In contrast to the surprised reaction on Ajax's face, Eligos almost looked bored as he held the saber up to the human's neck.

"Do I really need to make you take a time-out?" he lazily asked as the giant great sword crashed into the ground behind Ajax. The Horseman looked at the demons surrounding them and tried to salvage his persona, backing away from the ruler of the War Quarter and grabbing his sword by the handle.

"No, master. I'll stay...quiet," he said, placing his blade onto his back and then leaning up against one of the poles holding up Eligos' tent. The warrior crossed his arms and huffed, but he continued to glare at his fellow Horsemen.

"So why, on all days, do you wish to fight in the Pits, Horsemen?" Eligos asked as he straddled the crater that his student had created, the saber transforming into a small dagger he lazily holstered in the scabbard on his left side. "Niccolo, it's been a long time, but don't you have better things to do?"

"Not particularly," Niccolo responded, shoving his thumbs between his belt and armor, "we were just getting antsy waiting for the Council tomorrow. And, like you said, it's been a long time for me."

"We did enjoy your company, I will say that," the old demon said before turning his gaze on the reaper. "But, Cadmus, this is a new thing for you. Heard you split a Claw. Out of _turn_ , even. What's all that about?" The cloaked Horseman shrugged at the question and held his scythe close.

"The warrior's weapon broke. Felt like it was unfair."

"That's part of the game," Eligos said before crossing his arms, but Cadmus just stared into his silver eyes.

"Well, that _game_ is over. Is there any way we can speed this up? We've been waiting for two hours, already."

"Cadmus, it's the middle of the biggest tournament in the last three centuries," he said before uncrossing his arms and setting his massive hand onto the reaper's shoulder, "I'm _going_ to watch it."

"We were supposed to be _part_ of that," Cadmus said, but Eligos just chuckled and looked at Niccolo before gesturing toward the reaper with his thumb.

"Can you believe this?" he asked before turning back to Cadmus. "No one's going to fight you and I'm not gonna waste any of my animals on your antics. If my beasts are going to get butchered, it should at least be entertaining," Eligos said before turning and heading toward his throne. "You weren't waiting for _me_."

"You were waiting for the other finalist," he grunted out as he sat down on his throne. It was a simple thing, just a wooden chair carved to the shape of his rear end and set on top of three steps. The two Horsemen looked at each other before turning back to the ruler of the War Quarter.

"The other finalist?" Niccolo asked, but Eligos just laughed as he set his left elbow on his armrest and then propped up his head.

"Yeah, you got a bye. Figured the only one who'd venture to fight you would be the champion," he said before sniffing and then scratching his belly with his other hand.

"We're fighting Seere?" Niccolo asked in shock, but then he remembered the old human's fondness for bloodshed. It was only natural they would have to fight the reigning champion of the Pits. Eligos licked his lips and then sat forward, propping up his elbows on his knees.

"Well, no, not anymore. Believe me, I'm as surprised as you," he said, but he was interrupted by an evil laugh from behind them.

"Why would _that_ be, Eligos?" the nasal voice asked, but the Horsemen already knew who was speaking. They turned to find a yellow imp grinning at them.

"Mammon," Niccolo said under his breath, at which the pot-bellied demon waved at him.

"Hey, Nico! Fancy seeing you here!" he beamed at them as he skipped to the Horseman's side. "You know, after our little tiff in the courtyard, I thought you'd stay clear of the Pits. I'm glad you decided to show up!" Mammon shouted, clasping his hands in front of him. "So can we be friends again?"

"You..." Niccolo's thoughts turned to violence and he subconsciously started to form his sword, but Eligos interrupted by clearing his throat.

"Wait for the pit, Nico. You two can finally have your fight down there," he said, which caused both Horsemen to look at him in shock.

"The pit?" Cadmus asked, drawing a shrug from Eligos.

"Yep, Mammon unseated Seere. Took the legs out from under him," he said, which made Cadmus take a step forward.

"H-how?" he asked, but Mammon just giggled behind him. He waited until the reaper turned back to look at him before licking his lips.

"You know, you guys can learn a thing or two from the old man up there. Wordplay is important!" he said before bouncing in place and looking to each Horseman. "C'mon! Guess!"

"What did you..." Niccolo trailed off, Mammon's vacant eyes unnerving him. The small demon sighed before setting his hands on his hips.

"You're no fun," he said before licking his lips again and pointing to his fangs, which were still red. "I ate his legs," he said before turning to each Horseman and then bouncing again.

"You _what_?" Cadmus asked, walking up to the yellow demon and standing over him.

"His _legs_. I ate them. Not so tasty, but the armor was crunchy, so that was cool," he said before nodding and looking around at the demons gaping at him in horror. As he realized nobody was taking the comments in good humor, he looked disappointed. "Oh, c'mon! They'll grow back! He'll be right as rain in a couple months!"

"Not the point, Mammon. If it's a fight between us, we try to have some...decency," Eligos stated from his chair, which caused the pot-bellied demon to march toward the throne.

"It's Hell! He'll be _fine_! It's not like I ate him whole!"

"That's the only reason you didn't get disqualified, Hellborn," Eligos stated as he rose from his chair and then walked down the steps. "In this next fight, no eating of limbs, you hear me?"

"That's not fair!" Mammon cried, but Eligos just wrapped his fingers around his chest harness.

"Other way around, Hellborn. It's not _fair_ for you to eat them," he said, which caused Mammon to whine.

"But-" he started, stopping once Eligos gave him a stern look.

"I shouldn't have to tell you things like you're a child, Mammon. There's a reason I usually don't let you into these tournaments."

"Why did you let him in this one?" Cadmus asked, breaking up their conversation. The old demon walked past Mammon and sighed, looking deep into the reaper's eyes.

"I... honestly, this might be the last tournament. All signs point to the Apocalypse, so I thought it might be nice to have one big blowout. Figured Mammon couldn't ruin absolutely _everything_."

"And you won't let me fight," Ajax muttered, but Eligos just gave him a quick glare.

"Your ego is already out of control. You can sit out one day," he said before turning back to Niccolo. "So you ready?"

"Yeah, I guess," Niccolo said, which caused Eligos to nod toward the central pit.

"Well, go on, get! You, too," he said before looking over at Mammon.

"Ooh, this will be fun," the yellow demon said before running over to the pit and jumping inside.

"Might as well get it over with," Cadmus said, turning to join his fellow Horseman, but a large hand settled on his shoulder.

"Don't think so, kiddo," Eligos said as he walked up to the reaper's side. "I can't in good conscience let two Horsemen fight at the _same time_. Plus, this'll be good for them. 'Bout time they duke it out," he concluded before looking at Niccolo.

The leper almost felt betrayed by the act, but then he realized that this was far more appealing to him. He had a score to settle with Mammon and sharing it with Cadmus would only serve to aggravate him. After a moment to settle his nerves, Niccolo nodded at the two before turning and walking calmly over to the edge of the pit. As he looked down, he watched Mammon stretching his arms behind his head and looking up at him with glee.

When he landed on the blood-soaked sand of the arena and looked at the yellow demon, Niccolo was no longer concerned with the fate of Lucifer or Hell or even the Apocalypse. He did not care about the demons cheering him on or the bets being made against him.

He just wanted Mammon to bleed.

***

When their swords clashed, green and red fire arched away from the impact, but Niccolo felt a more intense flame burning away at his heart.

"Guess you finally get to pay," he whispered toward his opponent, whose mouth was open in a grotesque grin.

"I bet your lizard tastes better, but we'll just hate to wait a couple minutes to find out!" Mammon whispered back, gnashing his teeth. Niccolo saw red and pushed forward, following up the push with a wild cross strike. Mammon only giggled as he brought up his brand and parried the strike, slipping underneath the blow before thrusting his sword where Niccolo's throat used to be.

Niccolo side-stepped the strike and swung his blade across his body, attempting to knock away Mammon's sword. It caused the imp to lose his balance and fall on top of the weapon he still held, but when Niccolo brought down his bastard sword, the Hellborn went down to one knee and held his fire brand above his head. Fire burned along the blade, but the yellow demon was forced to put his left hand against the flat of his weapon in order to meet the Horseman's strength. When the skin of Mammon's hand bubbled against the metal, Niccolo had to smile.

"I never thought I'd say this, Hellborn, but you smell good today," he whispered, trying to force his weight into his strike. Mammon was sweating from the effort, but he just laughed at Niccolo's attempt at humor.

"I hate to say this, Nico, but that's the rot on your face. We just didn't want to tell you and hurt your feelings," he said before shifting his weight and the blade in his hands, causing Niccolo's sword to grind down and then sink into the sand. The Horseman cursed as he tried to regain his balance, but the potbellied demon threw out his foot and knocked him away before getting to his feet.

"Bastard," Niccolo muttered, already seeing Mammon leaping after him with a one-handed, upward strike. The Horseman was only just able to plant his foot down, sand flying in his wake, and brought his blade sideways to guard the wild strike. After the clang of their impact, Niccolo wondered what Mammon hoped to gain from the blow, but almost immediately a cloud of sand struck his good eye, stunning him.

"Hah, you silly goose!" Mammon shouted as he jumped after Niccolo again, but the Horseman wildly swung his sword in such a way that the yellow demon could not get close.

"Fucking cheater," Niccolo sputtered as he swung his blade with his rotten arm, trying to clear the sand from his eye with his other hand. Red-eyed and strained, he only regained his sight as Mammon jumped on him and wrapped his legs around his midsection. Niccolo dropped his sword as he used both of his arms to evade Mammon's wild snapping.

"I just want to eat your nose to spite your face, Nico," Mammon screamed as he continued to bite at the Horseman's head. "You'll be better looking, I swear! Hell, it'll match the rest of your ugly mug! I'm. Doing. You. A. Favor!" he ridiculed, punctuating each word with a snap of his jaws.

They rolled in the sand for a moment as Niccolo desperately tried to keep Mammon from eating his face. Niccolo panicked at first, his eye watering from the bloody sand that still grated against his eye, but eventually he was able to gather his thoughts. While the yellow demon continued to mock him and laugh, Niccolo grabbed Mammon by the throat with his demonic arm and reached behind him with his right hand. The Hellborn was still laughing as Niccolo grabbed an arrow with a broad point and brought it down into Mammon's exposed chest, drawing a gasp from the crowd.

Niccolo stood as Mammon sputtered on the ground, laughing wearily and finally feeling like he had avenged Fafnir. He looked around the demons watching him and smiled, throwing up his arms in victory, and then walked over to where his blade had fallen. _That was easy_ , he thought, but Plague's voice boomed in his mind.

_The Hellborn is many things, but easy isn't one of them_ , his voice resonated, but Niccolo had only a moment to be confused.

"Nico, turn around!" Cadmus yelled from the top of the pit, which caused the Horseman to whip around to look at the incoming threat. Mammon had stood up, the arrow still in his chest, and was breathing heavily. He was hunched over, staring at the ground, but eventually he raised his head slightly to glare at his opponent.

"Don't you walk away from me yet, human," he whispered, but Niccolo could hear him across the arena. None of the onlookers made a sound as Mammon stood up to his full height and swayed from side to side.

"What's happening?" Niccolo asked out loud, but the only voice to answer him came from within.

_Now you're going to see why people fear the Hellborn_ , Plague said cryptically, drawing a curse from Niccolo for not speaking plainly, but that only lasted for a moment. Before his eyes, Mammon started to twitch, his limbs splaying out in frantic gestures, and it seemed like the imp was having a seizure. Niccolo grabbed the handle of his sword with both hands and realized Mammon was not just another demon.

He had been foolish to think one arrow would kill the son of the Devil.

An unearthly howl erupted from the potbellied demon's throat, but the horror had only just begun. His limbs stretched out to four times their usual size, his fingers and toes extending in proportion, and the potbelly disappeared. With his torso still tiny his limbs could not be supported, so his arms fell to the ground. Mammon's face twisted in pain as his mouth opened up far beyond what his jaw would allow, and Niccolo shuddered when he heard the snap of tendons as it dislocated.

His screams continued as his ribcage expanded, spikes jutting out of his skin and his very spine seemed to stretch out of his back. Niccolo could only watch as new muscle rippled out from his body and covered his gangly limbs and, instead of twisted extensions, they became powerful arms and legs. His finger bones jutted out beyond his nails and curved wickedly, becoming even stronger weapons, and the bones of his feet did the same. Mammon's loose loincloth tore away as his hips flared outwards, becoming big enough to support the monstrous legs, and a massive tail made of bones erupted from the bottom of Mammon's back.

Niccolo's sword shook wildly back and forth, but he tightened his grip and continued to watch the demon's transformation. The creature was massive and was only continuing to gain in size, but suddenly its chest expanded in proportion to his limbs and back, growing black, coarse hair which eventually melted together to form a shell around his chest and shoulders. By the end of its growth, it reflected the hellish light surrounding the pit and seemed impenetrable.

Throughout this process, Mammon's head continued to stay the same size, its jaw dangling and screams issuing from its open mouth, but after all of the other body parts finished their transition, it looked over to Niccolo with a vacant expression. The beast turned on all fours and looked directly toward the Horseman, and then Niccolo saw something which made him sick. Mammon's head seemed to widen and then stretched outward as a red, amorphous shape peeked out of his throat. Then it burst outwards, causing Mammon's face to stretch like a balloon, almost causing Niccolo to throw up. The amorphous blob was horrific, but what came next was even worse.

The shape was a membrane and it tore apart, revealing the seven screaming heads that extended from Mammon's throat, each with their own neck. After a moment of terror, silence enveloping the demonic horde watching from above the pit, the screams coming from the seven horrors suddenly ceased. Then one of them turned to Niccolo, the one which looked exactly like Mammon's regular head.

" _I'm hungry_ ," it said, grinning slightly. Then it opened up its mouth and exposed its fangs, screaming as the monstrous demon squared up to Niccolo and then walked forward.

"That's the...Hellborn?" Niccolo asked, unable to move at the revelation. He had not expected this kind of thing from any demon, much less Lucifer's son. It was just too disgusting.

"Move, Nico!" a voice echoed from above him, though the Horseman could not decipher the source. He could only watch as the Hellborn stalked forward and then came to a stop, towering over him. The seven heads, three of which were screaming and two of them crying, all came within a foot of the stunned Horseman of the Apocalypse.

" _I expected more from you, Nico_ ," one of the heads said, its neck bringing it up to Niccolo's side. The leper looked in horror to see that it was Lucifer's face, twisted into a jester's mask with slits along his cheeks. It was more than he could take; worse than anything Niccolo had ever considered possible.

"If you don't move, I'll kill you myself!" Cadmus shouted above him, forcing Niccolo into the present. Suddenly, the Horseman was angry; suddenly, he knew exactly what he needed to do. He took his demonic arm off of his sword and grabbed the mockery of Lucifer's head, which expressed shock, and tore it off of Mammon's neck.

" _You bastard_!" three voices shouted while three screamed in pain. Niccolo watched as the Hellborn reared back on its hind legs and blood sprayed from its wounded tongue.

"You use that trick again and you're dead," Niccolo said, violence flooding his voice. The demon landed on the far side of the arena and paced around, blood pouring out of its wound, but soon it turned to face the Horseman.

" _I'll do_ ," it said before another version of Lucifer's head sprouted from the open neck, stopping the blood flow, " _whatever I want_!" Mammon then turned and ran forward, swiping at Niccolo's position with his right paw, but Niccolo just buried the entirety of his blade into the length of Mammon's monstrous arm. He almost smiled, but the arm continued on its path and slammed against Niccolo's chest plate, causing him to fly into the side of the pit.

" _Goddamnit_!" two of Mammon's heads cursed, inspecting his hand. " _That_ _really hurt_!"

Although Niccolo would have liked to shrug off Mammon's blow with a childish remark, he felt bruised and beaten already. He picked himself up and staggered against the wall, feeling his ribs creaking, but realized he could not just stay there; Mammon would come for him soon. Green liquid oozed out of his palm before forming a handle, which he used to create another blade. Creating the weapon took a lot out of Niccolo every time, but he had no desire to be unarmed in this fight.

" _Oh, you bastard_!" Mammon screamed as the sword in his arm dissolved into acid, which caused Niccolo to smile. " _That...alright, I gotta_ _hand_ _that one to you,_ " Mammon said with a smile on his faces, but when he looked at the demons above them, his brows furrowed. " _You people...no sense of humor_ ," he said before looking back down at Niccolo.

"You ever... think you might not be funny?" Niccolo asked, swallowing the blood that was leaking from his broken nose. In preparation for his next attack, the Horseman put his sword into his right hand and steeled his nerves.

" _No one likes a fibber, Nico_ ," Mammon said before growling and pouncing at him. Niccolo took the opportunity to dive under the beast, turning in midair incredibly fast and grabbing his bow with his demonic arm. Before either of them could land, Niccolo set the handle of his blade against the string of his bow and pulled, feeling his shoulder complaining in the effort. He did not have time to grin as he released the string, sending his sword into Mammon's armored chest at a high velocity.

The effect was instantaneous. Mammon was still in the air as the green blade burst through his back, a trail of dark blood and organs following in his wake. Niccolo warded off the blood with his demonic arm and landed on his back, hoping the fight was finished, but the strike had been enough to redirect the Hellborn's momentum, causing him to hover in the air for half a second. Suddenly, Mammon's great weight slammed on him and drove him to darkness.

When he woke up, both of his arms were pinned together in Mammon's left hand and seven sets of eyes were staring at him with glee and malice.

" _That was clever, I gotta say. But now_ ," Mammon said as he raised his arm above his mouth, " _now I get to eat you whole_!" he said before his main head grew and its jaw unhinged, creating just enough space for his tasty morsel.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, MAMMON!" Eligos yelled from his throne, which caused Mammon's heads to look at him in surprise.

" _Oh, c'mon!_ " he protested, but when Niccolo looked at the ruler of the War Quarter, he saw the fallen angel had a stern expression on his face, the silver of his eyes gleaming as he scolded the Hellborn.

"I said no eating! You won the tournament, kid, be content with that!"

" _But-_ " he tried to interrupt, but Eligos stamped his foot, causing the entire pavilion to shake.

"I do NOT want to tell your father that you ate Niccolo! Let him down!" he commanded, which caused six of Mammon's heads to shrink away in shame. The main head turned back to stare at Niccolo, hatred seeming to ebb off of him in waves.

" _You're lucky, you know that? Lucky. Not powerful. Not worthy_ ," it said before coming within inches of Niccolo's still-terrified face, " _Lucky_." After making his point, Mammon dropped Niccolo to the sand, forcing the air out of his lungs. When he was finally able to pick himself up to his elbows, Niccolo saw that Mammon had almost finished his transformation back. It was only a few more moments of shoving his bones back to their normal positions before the potbellied demon looked back at him.

"Lucky. Now don't you ever try to fight me again, or I'm gonna eat you just like your lizard," Mammon said before turning and jumping up to the side of the pit. As Mammon walked away, Niccolo let his head fall back to the sand, wondering how such a creature could have come from such a great angel like Lucifer. He was only left to wonder for a few moments before Cadmus stood over him and offered his hand.

"You're lucky Eligos stopped him," the reaper said as Niccolo grabbed his hand and let Cadmus raise him up to his feet. His chest ached, but he was still grateful that he had not been devoured whole.

"People keep saying I'm lucky. I'm not exactly sure about that," Niccolo said as he cradled his broken ribs with his right arm. "And why didn't _you_ stop him?"

"And fight the _Hellborn_?" Cadmus asked with a raised eyebrow before shaking his head. "Unlike you, I've seen him change before. The only person here who could stop him is the one who did," he said before looking up to the edge of the pit. Eligos was standing there watching, but soon turned and walked away.

"You are quite lucky, Horsemen!" Andras shouted as he landed beside them, the sand at their feet flowing outwards at his impact.

"Will people _stop_ saying that?" Niccolo asked as he leaned against the reaper, who patted his back with his free hand.

"He's had a rough day. And besides, we didn't win," he said before turning to the owl. "We can't pay you." At that, the demonic bird just hooted and hopped in his place.

"You already have!" he exclaimed, which brought a look of skepticism from the Horsemen.

"What are you talking about?" Niccolo asked with a grimace, standing up to his full height. He could already feel his ribs healing in place. If nothing else, Hell was a good place to have an injury. Andras just cocked his head to the side before sighing.

"You foolish, little humans. I didn't need you to _win_! I just needed to find the right bet," he said, his dark eyes gleaming with pride. Cadmus looked at the owl for a moment, but eventually he turned to Niccolo and disgust filtered through his expression. He turned back to Andras in annoyance.

"You bet _against_ him?" Cadmus shouted, which brought fury to Niccolo's mind. The owl just looked at them with an innocent face.

"Well, of course. Who bets against the Hellborn?" he asked. Cadmus was only just able to stop Niccolo from rushing forward and grabbing the owl by the throat.

"You bastard, I could have died!"

"But you didn't!" Andras exclaimed, hopping away from them. "I didn't think you would! You're a Horseman, and a powerful one at that! Now, if it had been Diogenes..."

"I can't believe you, Andras," Cadmus said, shaking his head, but the owl just hopped back toward them.

"Oh, stop it. What's done is done! Now, do you want to hear the information you fought so gallantly for?" he asked, his voice rising at the end of the question, hoping to tease the Horsemen. They looked at each other for a moment before looking at the scheming demon.

"Fine," Niccolo said before shifting his weight to his right foot. "What do you have?"

"Well, tomorrow, when the kings start to arrive, you will be under the guidance of Sitri. I'll send a message along to her and you'll be able to have your fill of conspiracy theories and hints as to who might want to kill our dear fallen angel," Andras explained, but that resulted in Niccolo rolling his eyes at the owl.

"We could have done that ourselves. We've known Sitri for years," he said, but Andras put out his wing and waved it back and forth in dismissal.

"Ah, but she wouldn't have given you the right information, or any information at all! Even though she'll flirt with other humans, she doesn't view them as equals. My approval will go a long way and help your education," he said before hopping and looking pleased with himself.

"That's not really enough," Cadmus said before bringing his hand up to his forehead, but Andras ruffled his feathers at the reaper's reaction.

"I know, my dear boy, I know! That's why I'm going to give you Astaroth today!" he exclaimed, but this time Cadmus yelled back.

"You're giving us what we can get ourselves!"

"Again, you are dismissing the _quality_ of my introduction!" the owl shouted, looking offended at their remarks. "Plus, he has gone into hiding, so you'd have to find him, which wastes what precious little time you _do_ have."

"Astaroth-" Niccolo started, but Andras walked over to him, the air around him becoming heavier. When he spoke, his voice was darker and more serious than they had ever heard from him.

"Will take what you have to say seriously. I'm one of the very, _very_ few individuals who know his current whereabouts. He's not hiding on a lark, Horsemen," he said before looking at each man in turn. "The Cult is real and Astaroth was always one of its most vocal opponents. He will help you, if not in preventing its ascension, perhaps in mitigating whatever it is able to do," he said before backing away from them and folding his wings over his body.

"What happened here today was not just some mindless pursuit of coin, although that certainly happened," he said, his neck rotating so that he could observe if anybody was watching. When he was satisfied that nobody was present, he turned back to them. "This was a trial of will and intent, and the two of you have certainly passed." The owl walked over to Cadmus and produced a piece of paper from a fold of his robe before placing it into the reaper's hand.

"Go to the place written on this. Be there three hours from now. Someone will come to bring you to Astaroth."

"How can we trust you?" Niccolo whispered, considering the devious owl in an entirely new light. The demon turned to him and looked at him with his dark, huge eyes, his usual levity completely absent.

"I sincerely hope that you _don't_."

***

"I don't like this."

"Neither do I, but here we are," Cadmus said as they stood in the shadows of a building on the outskirts of the War Quarter. The four-story shanty, which towered over its neighbors, was on the border between the War and Death Quarters, so it was sufficiently dark and dismal. The buildings, as decrepit as they were, rose above them and seemed to block out all the light coming from the hellfire surrounding Dis, which had died down at the start of the night cycle.

"Why would Astaroth be in hiding, anyway? He's one of the most powerful demons in the city," Niccolo asked as he shifted from one foot to the other. The leper had never been fond of staying in one place for any amount of time and this was starting to seem like a set-up. Cadmus was sitting with his back to a rotting, wooden support beam, but was careful not to put any weight onto the thing in case the shanty wanted to fall over. He did not bother to look at Niccolo but instead ran his finger along the blade of his weapon.

"He was one of the more vocal fallen during the Cult's first appearance. Half of the citizens in Dis didn't bother to listen, but if the Shroud is real, he would likely go after Astaroth just so he wouldn't start talking again," the reaper said as he leaned back his head and scratched it against the wooden beam, which seemed to be stronger than he had previously thought.

"It's _Astaroth_ , Cadmus. He's almost as powerful as Scratch," Niccolo said as he stood above his friend, who did not bother to stop rubbing his scalp against the support beam.

"Which should give you a clue as to how powerful he thinks the Shroud can be. You heard what Crocell and Ronové were saying. You felt how powerful Valefor was. This isn't just some errand we're on, Nico," Cadmus said as he lowered his head so that he could look Niccolo in the eye. "We have to consider that we're not strong enough to stop this."

"We need to stop it. We don't have a choice," the leper said as he crossed his arms. Cadmus sighed before scratching his forehead with his right hand.

"I agree, which is why we're here. Even for us, hanging around this area at night is not a good idea," the reaper said before grunting and using his scythe to push himself to his feet.

"Speaking of which, can we really trust Andras with this type of thing? I don't trust demons as a rule and Andras is known for being shifty."

"True enough. He even warned us not to trust him. But...something about how he told us to be here, something about his tone... I believe him, Nico," Cadmus said before walking forward a few steps, his friend staring at him from the side.

"That might get us killed," Niccolo added, but the reaper just laughed at that.

"Oh, Nico," he said before turning and shaking his head slightly, " _we're_ probably going to be the people that get us killed. This is possibly the dumbest thing we've ever..." Cadmus had been speaking with some levity, but he trailed off when he saw the two yellow dots hovering in the darkness across the street. His eyes narrowed as he brought his scythe across his body, but when Niccolo slapped his shoulder and broke his concentration, he blinked. When Cadmus opened his eyes, the two yellow dots were gone.

"Hey, what's up?" Niccolo asked, but Cadmus did not look at him and instead tried to focus on their surroundings.

"Get your bow ready; we're not alone," he said in a hushed tone, deliberately letting his eyes lose focus so he could perceive everything in his vision at once. He heard Niccolo making noise beside him and knew the leper was taking him seriously.

"What did you see?" Niccolo whispered, but Cadmus continued to look into the shadows surrounding them. He cursed Andras for picking an out-of-the-way corner during nightfall.

"Eyes. Yellow ones..." Cadmus trailed off, but his eyes snapped into focus as he found them again, this time on the rooftop across the street. "There, roof of the building to the right."

"Where?" Niccolo asked as he brought up his bow and pulled the string back, glancing to the left and right of where Cadmus was looking.

"There, you idiot, right near the edge," Cadmus urged, but the eyes disappeared again. "Damn it!"

"I knew this was a trap, I knew it!" Niccolo whispered, but Cadmus just waved it off.

"Look, whether or not it's a trap, we'll be fine as long as we keep calm," the reaper tried to explain, but then he heard a low growl behind them. He turned around quickly, pulling his scythe along with him in a deadly arc, but it cut right through the shadow with the yellow eyes. Cadmus was unable to react as a dark extension slammed into his leather cuirass and sent him flying across the road.

"Cadmus!" Niccolo shouted, bringing his bow to aim at the creature who had struck his friend, but when the yellow eyes focused on him, he hesitated. The creature growled and leapt forward, grabbing the black bow and throwing it aside before trying to dig sharp claws into Niccolo's torso. The only thing that kept him from getting impaled was his armor, but the force of the strike was enough to send him crashing to the street.

"What the hell is that?" Niccolo groaned out, but as he turned over and looked up, the creature was standing above him and saliva was dripping from its open mouth. Only then, with a moment to focus on its appearance, did Niccolo realize that the creature was vaguely human except for the claws on its hands and feet and the dark fur that covered most of its body. The yellow eyes that had struck fear in their hearts were set in a wolf's head. "Damn it, someone let loose a feral demon on us!"

At the remark, the yellow eyes closed to slits and another growl came from the beast's throat. Niccolo tried to form the sword in his diseased arm, but he did not have enough time before the creature bent down and grabbed him by the neck. It roared before hurling his body across the street and into Cadmus' huddled grey mass. The reaper had shakily risen to his feet just in time to be bowled over by the friendly projectile and now they were sprawled over each other. Before either one could react, they were grabbed by their necks and lifted up easily before being slammed into the side of the building.

"I am _not_ feral, little Horsemen," the wolf muttered in a hushed tone, "I chose to be this way."

"What... who?" Niccolo asked, panicking at the deadly sharp, yellow teeth inches away from his face.

"I'll be asking the questions, you mongrels. What are you doing standing here at nightfall? Waiting for someone?" the demon asked, his attention turning to the reaper on his right. Cadmus had somehow gathered himself and looked into the demon's eyes with resolve. It was enough of an effort for the creature to regard him with some respect.

"Yes, we were told to stand here and wait for Astaroth," the reaper said, which caused the demon's lips to curl back into a twisted smile and a sub-vocal noise to issue from his throat. It took a second for Cadmus to realize the demon was laughing.

"Astaroth? You were waiting for _Astaroth_? Please, spare me the idiocy. Are you part of the Cult? Were you waiting for the Shroud?" the demon demanded answers, the skin around his teeth pulling back to reveal impending violence.

"Hah, if it were that easy," Niccolo added, his usual rudeness coming forth once he realized they were just dealing with another demon. "We could kill him and then we wouldn't have to run around getting jumped by oversized dogs."

"Dog?" the werewolf asked, offended by the leper's comment. He sniffed deeply at Niccolo's face and almost gagged. "At least my face isn't rotting even after death. How fitting it is that Hell gave you more of the same once you died."

"How do you know who I am?" Niccolo asked, totally abandoning his fear even as the powerful demon held him in its grip. The wolf's lips dropped down in surprise before pulling back into a smile of disbelief.

"Why _wouldn't_ I? Some of us actually pay attention, Horseman," he seemed to spit out, but Niccolo just glared back at him.

"Maybe you're not worth knowing. And it looks like _you're_ not paying attention if you're grabbing us by the throat," he almost shouted, but the wolf's grip tightened and caused the last words to come out in a stressed whisper.

"Andras," Cadmus said, which caused the wolf to snap his gaze toward him.

"What?"

"He told us to be here. He made us fight in the Pits to help him settle his debts; Nico had to fight Mammon. Then he told us he would tell Sitri and Astaroth to help us," he explained, which made the demon stare at him intently. After a moment, he turned his attention to Niccolo and growled again before releasing his grip on their necks.

"Fucking owl. He didn't tell _Astaroth_ a thing," he said before backing away from them and sniffing the night air.

"What, then how were we going to find him?" Niccolo asked, but the werewolf looked back at him and sighed.

"Me. This is one of the stops on my nightly patrol, when I try to find people connected to the Cult. Andras _wanted_ me to almost tear your throats out," he said before putting his right hand behind his head and scratching at the skin beneath the fur. Whatever grudge Niccolo held against the werewolf disappeared as he remembered the owl and his schemes.

"Goddamnit, that's what we get for trusting him," he said before looking at Cadmus, who was wiping dirt off of the mantle of his cloak. The reaper just looked at him and shrugged.

"Look, who cares? Let's just follow..." Cadmus said before turning to the werewolf and pursing his lips. The demon raised an eyebrow before realizing what was going through the reaper's mind.

"Him I understand, but _you_ , Cadmus? I know I haven't done _that_ good a job of hiding myself," he growled before walking toward him and bringing his nose close to the reaper's face. "Marchosias." Cadmus furrowed his brow, clearly diving inside his own memories, and then it dawned on him.

"Oh. Oh! That's...wow."

"Yeah. _Wow_ ," Marchosias said before turning and walking away from them, darkness creeping along the empty patches of his fur. He motioned for them to follow with a wave of his hand.

"Are you taking us to Astaroth?" Niccolo asked the demon, who stopped mid-step as the darkness surrounded him. In that moment, Niccolo realized that Marchosias did not have a shadow trailing him and that it instead was clinging to his body.

"Just follow," he said, everything on his body had been swallowed into darkness by that time except for those two yellow eyes. The Horsemen looked at each other and nodded before walking after the living shadow, the three of them blending into the darkness of the alleyway.

***

"Can I just call you Marchos? Four syllables is a mouthful," Niccolo asked, verbally jabbing at the living shadow in front of them, but he was quickly met with a violent glare. The darkness surrounding his face fell away as the violence left them, only to show a confused wolf's head.

"No. Just...no," it said before looking to Cadmus. "Is he always like this?"

"Pretty much," Cadmus said before walking forward through the alleyway and tapping the shadow's shoulder, the surface seeming to flow at his touch. "Half of what he says can be ignored, but I'll let you know when that is."

"People need to hear what I have to say, fellow Horseman," Niccolo said with an air of importance, but the other two just laughed as they continued on.

"I'm sorry, what?" Marchosias teased as he looked back at the leper with a vicious smile.

"I listen for them, Nico," Cadmus said, using his scythe as a glorified walking stick once more. They had already been walking for about ten minutes, ducking and diving into shadows, but Cadmus was getting tired of the secrecy and was falling into old habits. "Someone needs to translate for you and I was left with the job."

"I have a friend just like you," Marchosias said as he shook his head, the shadows falling away from his fur. "He would say the same thing about me."

"God, we don't need two Cadmuses," Niccolo groaned, but the reaper just stopped and raised an eyebrow.

"I would dare say we don't need two Niccolos, either," he teased, but the werewolf interrupted him with a grunt, his shadow having completely fallen away.

"We're done with that. Inside, now," he said as he tapped the blank wall by his side, which rumbled for a moment before falling away to reveal a staircase lit by strange, red fire.

"Oh, that doesn't look entirely ominous," Niccolo said as he looked at it, but Marchosias just smiled before walking down the stairs.

"I said the same thing," he added before disappearing around the bend of the spiral staircase. "Now, come on."

"Damn it," Cadmus cursed before heading through the opening and down the spiraling steps. Niccolo followed and was surprised by the wall slipping back into place behind him, but eventually he continued down the steps.

"What are _you_ upset about?"

"He really is just like you," Cadmus muttered, which brought a laugh from the leper behind him.

"Well, that's not too bad! I was due for some copycats," he added, but Cadmus just sighed before looking back at Niccolo.

"He's older than us, Nico, even me. _You're_ the copycat," the reaper said before catching up to the werewolf plodding along below them.

"That's less good," Niccolo said under his breath before shoving his thumbs under his belt again. The statement brought a gruff laugh from the werewolf standing by the doorway at the bottom of the stairs.

"Can't always get what you want, Horseman, now step on through like a good little human," Marchosias said as he leaned against the doorway and grinned at them.

"Fine, _Marchos_ , fine," Niccolo teased, which brought a glare from the yellow eyes, but the leper was distracted by the room that opened up before them. Cadmus was likewise taken aback and ended up staring at a man in plain, white robes sitting on a bench on the right side. When the smaller man looked up, Cadmus realized quickly that he was another demon, but he did not look like an animal like Marchosias. He was plainly of middle-eastern descent, with dark, curly hair and a beard covering his jaw and cheeks. His dark skin should have blended into the darkness, but he seemed to radiate with a strange aura. Then Cadmus remembered Marchosias' constant companion.

"Phenex," he said, but Niccolo was staring at the man standing on the other side of the room facing the back wall. There was a giant map of Dis sprawled along its surface, but Niccolo could not take his eyes off of the demon studying it so intently. For one, the demon was as white as marble, which was in contrast to the room glowing red around him. He was also entirely nude except for the green snake coiled around his right arm, its black tongue flicking in and out with no undercurrent of malice.

"I'm sorry, what?" Niccolo asked as he broke his gaze and looked over at Cadmus.

"Phenex, the firebird. Marchosias and Phenex are inseparable, even though they're practically opposites," Cadmus explained, but he could tell that Niccolo was distracted, so he slapped the leper's shoulder. "We're meeting two of the most powerful demons in all of Hell, Nico."

"Then who is..." he said before turning back to the naked man at the other side of the room, but Marchosias just grumbled by the doorway.

"That's who you were trying to find, dumbass," he said before pushing off the stonework and walking across the room to sit on the bench opposite Phenex. The kind-looking man regarded the werewolf with curiosity, but Marchosias just shrugged and brought up his knee to his chest. "Balance, Phenex, balance."

"Of course," the plain-looking man said before turning to the new arrivals. "Can't have things go topsy-turvy on us, can we? Come on in, Horsemen."

"You're too friendly," Marchosias growled, but Phenex turned to him and shook his head in disdain.

"You're too _unfriendly_. I bet you tried to kill them before bringing them here," he ventured, which made Marchosias break eye contact.

"If I tried, they'd be dead," the werewolf said under his breath, but the entire room heard him. Phenex was about to continue the conversation but was interrupted by a short laugh by the naked demon standing by the map.

"So why didn't you try?" Astaroth asked as he turned around, which made Niccolo almost cover his eyes. The last thing he wanted to see was a demon's genitals, but he was spared the sight. The fallen's torso just continued into his legs with nothing embarrassing to draw the eye.

"They told me Andras sent them," the werewolf said, which made the white demon look at the Horsemen with a slight smile.

"When did we start trusting the owl, again?" Astaroth asked as he walked into the center of the room and crossed his arms, the snake retreating up to his shoulder.

"When I told you to," Phenex said from his bench, but that just caused the naked demon to laugh softly.

"Far too forgiving, you are," he teased, but the man just shrugged as he swung his feet underneath the bench.

"Astaroth, we're here to," Cadmus started, trying to act with poise, but Astaroth quickly turned his gaze toward the reaper and interrupted him.

"You've been looking into the Cult of Ascension and that led you to ask a lot of questions to a lot of demons. You got that way because you inherited the visions of a certain bird," the white demon said as he walked forward, stopping only when he was within a few feet of the Horsemen. Niccolo could not speak as he looked at the radiant fallen angel, especially as he stared into the demon's golden eyes. They were just like Lucifer's.

"How do you know all of that?" Cadmus asked, and in response Astaroth towered over the reaper before radiant wings burst out of his back, stretching out to their full span.

"Because you talked your mouth off and now _everybody_ knows, you fucking animals!" he shouted, the veins on his neck popping out and the feathers of his wings shaking. The snake coiled around his arm even hissed to mimic his anger. "I swear, for the first thousand years you humans are no better than fucking _parrots_ ," the fallen angel said as he calmed down, turning his back on them and walking to a simple couch before sitting down. He buried his face in his hands for a moment before bringing his head back up and motioning for them to sit down.

"On the ground?" Niccolo asked, drawing a glare from the golden-eyed demon.

"Do you see anywhere else? Sit," he commanded, but Niccolo just waved at the two benches occupied by Marchosias and Phenex.

"What about there? We can sit wi-" Niccolo offered, but when he looked over at Marchosias, the werewolf growled. When he looked toward Phenex, the smaller man just shrugged.

"It's not an uncomfortable floor."

"One of the _Fallen_ wants you to sit," Astaroth interrupted, his voice filled with annoyance. "So fucking sit." That ended the argument. Cadmus and Niccolo each sat on the floor, Astaroth sitting above them as he propped up his upper body by laying his elbows on his knees.

"I'm sorry, sir," Cadmus started, setting his scythe beside him on the floor, "but we're just anxious to stop this. Lucifer is in danger."

"He's in danger a lot, reaper. He _is_ the Devil," Astaroth quipped, but Phenex grunted from his perch.

"He's still young, Astaroth. They haven't even done that much damage," he said, but Astaroth sighed at the plain demon.

"We don't _know_ how much damage they've done, that's the problem. The Shroud might already be reacting to their so-called investigation," the white demon said, but Phenex just picked at his nails before looking at the Horsemen.

"Then we'll deal with it. It's not going to hurt to have two Horsemen along for the ride," Phenex offered, which brought a look of disdain from the fallen.

"Look, I know you have a high opinion of humans..." Astaroth started, but when the little man shook his head, he trailed off.

"Just look at them. The energy inside them...they're _not_ normal. We can use that," Phenex continued as he seemed to stare through Niccolo's soul. The leper felt like someone was inside his own head, but what disturbed him most were the flames dancing in the white of the man's eyes. There was something different about this former human.

"I don't..." Astaroth was about to argue, but when he looked at the Horsemen, he finally understood what the unassuming demon was talking about.

"Don't you see?" Phenex said as he turned to look at Cadmus and smiled. "As young as they are, they're already almost as powerful as Marchosias and myself. If the Shroud does not realize that, if they can't realize these Horsemen are far more powerful than they should be..."

"So that was Andras' plan," Marchosias murmured, but he did not continue. Astaroth just considered the Horsemen before bringing his left hand up to his chin and running his fingers along his smooth face.

"Do we have to explain it to you?" Astaroth asked, but Cadmus shook his head. Niccolo was about to raise his voice to ask, but the reaper just set his hand on his ruined arm.

"We can go where you can't. The three of you can't get close to the Shroud, but we're just...petty humans. Even if the Shroud already knows about us and is trying to get rid of us, we might be able to surprise him. If we can use your network, we might actually have the upper hand," he explained, but the fallen tilted his head and bit his lip.

"Close, really. There's not much of a network, though," he admitted, which made the reaper furrow his brow.

"What do you mean?" Niccolo asked, and immediately the spell around Astaroth broke for him. Where there had once been a pure and powerful angel, there was now just another denizen of Hell.

"Our little counter group isn't that large. We've been the target of a lot of feral attacks and that didn't do anything to help our recruitment. There's a reason we're in hiding, kid," Astaroth admitted before lifting himself off the couch and walking over to the map of Dis behind him. "Sitri will help you, that's for sure, but once you're out there, our group can't really help."

"Why not?" Niccolo asked, forcing Phenex to hang his head and admit their weakness.

"The Shroud is going to know us immediately, even if no one else does."

"He could shift to something else if he wasn't so damn proud about his wings," Marchosias added, which brought the ire of the fallen angel.

"I'm not going to change myself. _I'm_ not ashamed of who I am," he uttered with disdain, the werewolf's narrowing his eyes to slits.

"Astaroth!" Phenex shouted from his seat, which made the radiant demon look at him. " _Too far_." Astaroth stared at the plain-looking man for a moment, but eventually the anger faded from his expression. He turned back to the werewolf and his face was filled with sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Marchosias," he said before turning back to the Horsemen, who had gotten to their feet after the conversation had intensified. "I...can't risk shifting. You humans...you can turn into something else and grow, but the Fallen...if we change, it's a gamble. Some of us have become stronger, but others have become much weaker. I can't risk that, it's the same reason that Lucifer and Buné and so many others have tried to retain their original forms. If Lucifer falls...I have to be strong enough to fight whoever brought him down."

"So that's what you are to us," Cadmus said softly, realizing what the fallen was really saying. Niccolo turned to him and did not even have to ask for an explanation. The reaper just breathed in deeply and looked at the ground.

"This network of theirs is our back-up plan. If Lucifer dies, Astaroth wants to be there to pick up the pieces," the reaper said, but Niccolo started to shake with anger as he turned to face the embarrassed demon.

"So, what you're saying is you're going to take over Hell once Scratch is gone. You're just as bad as the Shroud," he said with a grudge, which shocked the fallen angel. Then the anger came back to his golden eyes.

"Fuck _that_. I want _nothing_ to do with ruling. Furthermore, how _dare_ you imply that I want to kill my brother! I have always been one of his biggest supporters, even when all of Hell was against him!" he shouted as he walked up to the leper and extended his wings in fury. This time, however, Niccolo just stared back at him with his good eye.

"Then help _more_ , coward," Niccolo muttered, which caused a wild anger to course through the fallen angel.

"I will _wipe_ you from existence!" he shouted before bringing back his arm to strike Niccolo, who had already started forming the handle of his own sword. Before either person could attack, a wall of flame appeared between them, causing them to fall away from each other. Niccolo turned slowly to the right to see Phenex covered in red and orange flames licking the walls behind him. Niccolo could even see wings made of flame bursting out of the man's back and white-hot anger flowing from his eye sockets, his pupils having completely disappeared.

"Do _not_ make me continue," the man commanded as he looked at the two petulant warriors. "We are far too few in number to be fighting among ourselves. Astaroth," he said before turning to look at the angel that seemed to be far less radiant now, "you know better. An infant soul should not provoke you like that, especially since the man is clearly just concerned with saving your brother."

"And you," he said before snapping his blazing, white-hot eyes toward Niccolo, who was scrambling backward on the floor. "Do you have a _death wish_? You have potential, Niccolo, probably more than us, but right now you can't, on a _good_ day, kill Astaroth. He _could_ wipe you from existence. Do not leap to conclusions, because you're bad at it."

At the end of the statement, Phenex waved away the wall of fire burning in the middle of the room and then seemed to draw within himself. Within moments, the flames around him had disappeared and a simple man stood there, the edges of his robes slightly singed from his antics. He sighed and looked across the room at the werewolf, who had not moved during the entire display. Phenex laughed before looking at the fallen angel and the Horsemen.

"We're all here to help, but unfortunately you can't depend on us unless everything has already fallen apart. We don't want Lucifer to die, Horsemen. We're just trying to be prepared if he does. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Niccolo said as he sat on the floor, feeling ashamed after his childish display. He had not even thought about what Astaroth might be able to do to him. Niccolo was about to sink further into despair, but soon afterward he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked up into Phenex's kind face.

"Good. Go home, both of you," he said before looking at Cadmus to include him in the conversation, "nothing more can be done tonight. At dawn, just go to the palace, pretend like everything is alright. If Andras did his part, Sitri will be there to help you with your further education."

"How do you expect us to sleep?" Niccolo asked, but Astaroth merely laughed.

"You'll have to try, Niccolo. The Council of Kings is tomorrow and every soul in Hell depends on you."

# Chapter 8: Past - The Prince of Beggars

Niccolo opened his eye halfway and found that the light of dawn had not yet illuminated his corner of the back alley. His vision was blurry and he found it difficult to perceive the shape moving around in front of him, but eventually his eye focused to reveal a rat moving among the shadows, squeaking as it sniffed at clumps of mud and dirt. Niccolo shifted to look upward and gingerly tried to open his left eye. The skin cracked and peeled at the effort, maimed by the disease that had continually crept up along his arm and past his shoulder, but eventually his left eye focused in the light that reflected off the high walls of his alleyway.

It was worse than the night before; he could only open it halfway. Through the weeks of his exile, Niccolo had watched the rot spread to his chest, up to his neck and now to his face. The tissue around his eye was becoming hard and heavy, and Niccolo knew that eventually the eye would become useless. The thought depressed him, and he wondered what he would do once that happened. Although he had kept his hair short as a way of keeping with fashion, now Niccolo felt like he should grow it out to hide the scars and oozing pus, to hide what other people would consider clear evidence of his sins.

The beggar slid upward and then put his back to the wall before watching the rat scurrying around. He could empathize with the animal, but there was no place for empathy in his new world. As silent as he could, Niccolo grabbed the blade he had stolen from Camilla's father and held it ready. He was about to strike when the rat turned to him and squeaked, not realizing the danger Niccolo presented. When it came forward, investigating his boot and sniffing, Niccolo breathed out heavily. It continued to walk toward him and when it reached his scarred wrist, it looked up at him with black eyes.

This creature looking at him should have been Niccolo's breakfast, but suddenly the beggar could not bring himself to end the animal's life. He had been prepared to ignore the thoughts of compassion in his mind, but Niccolo found that his willpower had been taken from him. Just as Niccolo had scrounged around the underbelly of Firenze, this rat was likewise only looking for food. Niccolo was not so high and mighty to refuse a meal presented to him, he had already ate a number of the rat's brethren, but this particular rodent looking up at him inspired empathy he could not afford.

His moral choice was soon made for him, because after a moment the rat looked down and bit his wrist, smelling the dried blood and pus which leaked from his maimed skin. The pain caused Niccolo to flail his wounded arm around, the rat still attached with its teeth caught on the fabric of his bandages. Only after he flung his arm toward the other end of the alley did the rodent lose its hold and go flying. Niccolo was about to curse the thing before it scrambled away, taking all his sympathy with it. He would have to remember that the animal was just another meal; that to the rat, _he_ was just another source of food.

Niccolo set about wrapping the bandages around his head. Until his hair grew out or until his illness miraculously disappeared, Niccolo would just have to cover himself so that his fellow Fiorentini would not see the lesions on his left side. The act itself was slightly painful, as the leprosy had spread to his hand, the skin cracking as he was forced to bend the joints of his fingers. Though it seemed slightly irrational to wrap his head in bandages every day, Niccolo wanted to appreciate his eyesight for as long as he would have it. In the back of his mind, he knew that it would not be long before his eyelid would not move again.

Niccolo tied off the end of his makeshift covering and then lifted up the hood of his cloak, a grimy, dusty brown thing, effectively covering any feature that would allow people from his former life to recognize him. His left arm, dressed in bandages he had ceased to wash regularly, was hidden behind the long sleeve of a robe he had stolen from a monastery. He had come to them for guidance and they had driven him away because of the plague on his soul. However, Niccolo had come to a realization very early on in his exile. If there was a plague on his soul, it was only because God had decided to plague his body and mark him as a villain.

And if that was the case, he would just have to play the part.

***

In one swift movement, Niccolo brought his hand underneath his cloak and hid the loaf of bread from prying eyes. He had become quite good at thievery during his exile; the dexterity he had developed over the years had not abandoned him like his fair-weather friends. There was already a wall of people between him and the baker before he turned slightly and looked to see if he had been noticed. He laughed as he realized that the baker had not even realized he had been a victim, so Niccolo did not bother to rush away. He just slipped in between the various Fiorentini who flooded the market.

Most of the time, the people of Firenze ignored his passage, but every once in a while Niccolo could see a naïve child staring at him. They would look at the man in the dirty, brown cloak and wonder what hid underneath. Although the left side of his face was covered with bandages, Niccolo still took the time to smile at these small children who did not understand he was a blight upon the world. Niccolo did not have the heart to hate them.

However, Niccolo did not much care for the parents who took them under their arm, the adults who stared at him and shook their head. Most of their looks went by without response, Niccolo just kept his head down, but every once in a while he would return their glare. He had not asked for this illness, he had not asked for his future to be taken from him and he had certainly not asked for their disgust. There were times when he thought about drawing both of his blades and sticking them through their judgmental eyes, but Niccolo knew better. He would not be able to survive in this city if word of a murderous leper started to travel.

So Niccolo just bobbed and weaved through the crowd, deftly squeezing through the spaces left by the passing of normal people. Even with his significant height and unusual appearance, it seemed that the city was ignorant of his existence. What they did not want to see, they ignored, and so Niccolo was able to find his way to the next sun-bathed market with no difficulty. He smiled as he spied the small fountain in the center, encircled by wagons and vendor's tables.

One of the merchants, a man in a vibrant, blue outfit, gave him a disapproving look, but Niccolo just ignored the man as he withdrew a small tin from the satchel he kept on his belt. Except for the sword, his dagger and the bread in his left hand, that satchel kept everything Niccolo owned in this world. With his healthy arm, he placed the tin underneath the spout and filled it to the brim with water. He inspected the water, wary about the city's supply, but found that it was not completely dirty. With a smile on his face, Niccolo turned and walked past the suspecting merchant, determined not to show any hostility. If the man made a scene, Niccolo might have to run through the city and lose his pursuers in the shadows.

Luckily, the merchant was distracted by an eager customer who wanted to buy different silks, so Niccolo was able to walk past the line of tables and over to the chest-high wall that bordered the square. He hunkered himself down and sat cross-legged with his back to the grey, stone wall, thankful for the heat it stored. Niccolo set the tin to his right and then placed the bread on his lap before inspecting it. There was a bit of dirt on the side, but Niccolo just put that down as a consequence of his hands being dirty. It was getting harder and harder to justify good hygiene now that he lived on the streets.

With both hands, Niccolo raised the bread to his mouth and took a hearty bite, chewing it a little longer than he would have liked since the crust was a bit hard. Then the hunger which had lain dormant finally woke and Niccolo set about tearing the loaf to pieces and shoving it into his mouth. His entire diet had become rats, insects and stolen items, so a nice, relatively fresh loaf of bread was more than just appreciated. In the summer sun, Niccolo ate his bread while the citizens of Firenze ignored him.

The loaf only lasted five minutes, but it was enough to satisfy the beggar. He sat against the stone wall, which now seemed a little cooler than he remembered, and digested his meal. It was far less splendor than he had been used to as a merchant prince, but this was possibly the happiest he had been since his exile. Life had become painful and exhausting, running from men who had either been victims of his thieving or just because they did not like his look, and there were times when he had been forced to fight for his life. The Sicilian from the first day of his exile had not been his last enemy, but he still remembered the man's dark face twisted in pain and anger. Niccolo hated that he had to kill the men who got in his way, but it was becoming easier to justify it. It was becoming easier to live with the fact that he _had_ to kill.

It was just survival, after all.

Sitting in the sun on that summer day was enough to banish those thoughts. He had a, relatively, full belly, the sun was keeping him warm and, if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was not a complete pestilence on society.

His satisfaction was torn from him as he heard the clink of metal against metal followed by a wet "plop," which caused him to instinctually open both eyes. When the pain spread through the left side of his face and he could not see past the bandage that covered his eye, Niccolo instantly felt annoyed. The new beggar looked down, his uncovered eye adjusting to the light, but soon he realized what had happened.

"Oh, sorry, I thought...I didn't realize you were drinking out of that," a man said as he stood above him, swaying in the light of the sun. Niccolo could not make him out from the silhouette, but something about the figure seemed familiar. After shaking his head, Niccolo grabbed the tin beside his knee, looking to see what the mystery man had left for him. Underneath an inch of water, Niccolo could see the glint of silver. Apparently, the man thought Niccolo was panhandling in the square.

"That's...alright," Niccolo rasped, shocked by his own voice. Though he muttered to himself at night, trying to keep some part of his sanity, he did not often speak anymore. Niccolo tried to clear his throat, but it seemed to have had no effect when he continued. "Thank you for that, though I'm not trying to beg. That's..."

"Illegal, I know, but," the man said, swaying to Niccolo's right and then putting out his hand to support himself on the stone wall. Niccolo was about to put up his own hand to keep the man from falling, but the generous person just waved it off before turning and then sitting next to Niccolo. "We can keep that between us, can't we?" he asked with a smile. Niccolo could not return it once he realized the man sitting beside him was someone he knew very well.

"I guess we can," he rasped, still completely surprised that Marco, his former best friend, was now sitting beside him. He didn't even know what to say to the man, it had been so long and things had ended so badly between them. Niccolo's face was absent emotion just because he did not know how to react.

"Good, good. You guys need to get fed, I know. And I'd just use it to buy more wine. And between you and me," Marco said, his head swaying as he turned to face his former friend, "I don't need any more wine."

"It _is_ only just getting to noon," Niccolo muttered, unable to think straight, but the man by his side just laughed.

"You're funny for a street rat. Sorry, not street rat. I'm bad with manners, if you couldn't tell. Most people can't stand me because of it," the drunk said as he looked forward toward his feet, which were propping up his knees at a comfortable angle. When he finished his statement, a strange thought entered into Niccolo's head. He thought it was impossible, but then again, Marco had never been the brightest person.

"Well, I can sympathize with people not being able to stand you. After all, I'm a street rat," Niccolo offered in jest, which caused the older man to shake with silent laughter.

"Hah, that's pretty good. I heard being a jester isn't that bad of a job," Marco teased, turning to look at the rag-covered beggar with a lazy smile. Niccolo could tell from his unfocused eyes that Marco had been drinking heavily through the night. It was not really possible for him to get that inebriated without really trying.

"Well, maybe I like being freelance," Niccolo said as he turned away from the drunk and stared at the merchants selling their wares. Suddenly, even with all of the sunlight around him and the smiles of the people flooding the streets, Niccolo's happiness disappeared. Marco had switched roles in Niccolo's life; now he just brought misery.

"You have the talent for it," Marco muttered, drifting into his inebriated thoughts. "I used to have a friend who was funny like that."

"Oh?" Niccolo uttered, wondering if Marco was just playing a game with him. After all, in his rags and layers of dirt, it was difficult to see the former merchant prince, but Marco had spent years by his side. From his next reaction, Niccolo realized the truth.

"He was a great guy," he said before sniffing, lost to his misery. "Loved him like a brother. But then...something happened," Marco trailed off, bringing the back of his hand across his nose and wiping away a not-so-small amount of snot. The beggar decided he had not been recognized, that Marco was oblivious.

"What happened?" Niccolo asked softly, his voice still hidden by the rasp that had come from living on the streets. Marco shook his head before looking up into the bright sky.

"It doesn't matter. That's not the important part," he said, which made Niccolo angry, but that anger was replaced by sympathy after his friend continued. "I abandoned him. I was the last guy who could help him, but I just let the world take him away. I was...too afraid to keep him in my life."

"Are you sure you had a choice?" Niccolo tried to play the part, keeping away his tears with an iron will. Marco shrugged before scratching the side of his face.

"Maybe. I don't know. I keep reliving the last time I saw him, wondering what could have happened if I didn't just throw him away. Man, I even went to church to look for answers. I...thought that what happened to him was just some punishment from God," Marco said, slurring his words and swaying even with his back against the wall. Niccolo's eyes narrowed at the mention of God, the skin on the left side of his face needled with pain, but he kept up his beggar act.

"Could it have _been_ God?" he continued, trying not to let violence color the tone of his voice.

"That's not up to me, you can tell I'm no priest, but," he said before looking at his feet again, "if it was, I don't think it was my friend's fault. I keep working it over in my head. He was a bit selfish from time to time, I'll admit that, but...he was nice to me. I'm just a drunk, but he was still nice to me."

"Sounds like you just did what anybody else would have," Niccolo said before looking at his own feet. After he had been abandoned, it was easy to blame Marco, but the man seemed to genuinely regret his actions. Niccolo wondered for the first time what he would have done in Marco's shoes. When the truth came to him, Niccolo finally felt like he understood.

"Yeah, well," Marco said before sniffing loudly and wiping the tears and snot from his eyes, "maybe I should have been different from anyone else. Maybe I owed that to him."

"You could...you could try to find him, you know," Niccolo offered, but out of the corner of his eye he could see his friend shaking his head.

"I'm sure he still hates me. It was... pretty bad," Marco said before turning slightly and putting both of his hands on the top of the short wall, heaving himself to his feet. He brought his right hand back to the pouch on his hip and fumbled around in it for a moment before drawing out two more coins. Marco then leaned over and grabbed at Niccolo's right hand, shoving the coins onto his palm and closing Niccolo's fingers for him.

"I can't..."

"Between us, alright? You're the first person I could really talk to about all of this. No priest would understand that little confession."

"They can't judge you for feeling guilty," Niccolo said with a slight smile, "after all, that's how they get more money out of you." It caused Marco to laugh a bit before standing upright.

"Ah, I miss that kind of humor. A priest wouldn't say that kind of thing," he said before stumbling backward and catching the stone wall with his left hand. "Can you...can you do something for me?" Niccolo looked up at him and pursed his lips, wondering what Marco could want from a dirty beggar.

"Maybe," he said, his eye being drawn to the merchant with the vibrant blue shirt. He was pointing right at them while talking to a nearby guard, which meant Niccolo had overstayed his welcome, but the vagrant wanted to hear what Marco had to say. He turned back to see Marco had allowed another stream of tears to fall from his eyes.

"Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him that I shouldn't have done what I did. Tell him that I don't think it was his fault; that I was out of line. Tell him goodbye. Make this his last memory of me; to replace that coward hiding behind a thin door," he pleaded before walking backward along the stone wall. Niccolo could not completely fight the emotion that was flooding his heart and let loose a tear from his maimed eye, but he shook his head in order to continue his beggar act.

"I don't know who your friend is," Niccolo pretended, but Marco sniffed again and took a deep breath.

"You do. I know you do. Thank you. For the time we shared," Marco said before turning around and stumbling away, using the stone wall to guide him. Niccolo stared after him, realizing that his friend had recognized him halfway through the conversation, though doubt still plagued his mind. He brought his gaze back down to ground and slammed his fist against the dirt, frustrated that Marco would come and confess something like that. It destroyed the foundation of defiance he had built to survive on these streets; it had destroyed his will.

Unfortunately, he would have to think about it later. He looked up just in time to see a couple of guards walking toward him, the human traffic in between them the only barrier. Niccolo sprang into action and flipped over his water tin, the coin clattering on the stone as water splashed around it. Without a second thought, he grabbed the piece of silver, joining it to the collection in his hand, and then jumped up and ran down the street away from Marco.

And as he ran, Niccolo almost wished his friend did not grieve for him.

***

His mind flitted about through thoughts of violence and revenge and all kinds of emotions Niccolo could not entirely understand. Marco's sad face was enough to destroy his grudge against the man. In fact, now he resented Marco for removing the strong foundation for Niccolo's misanthropy. Now there was one soul that did not entirely hate him and reject him, although Marco was far too much of a coward to help.

The problem was that Niccolo could understand that. No one knew where his leprosy had come from, and it was entirely possible that just being around Niccolo could allow for his illness to spread to his friend. He could not blame Marco for removing him from his life.

The leper brought his hands to his face and screamed in anger as his world fell apart again. He had just gotten used to rock bottom, he had just gotten used to being the scum of the Earth, and then Marco had to go screw it all up. Niccolo had still been abandoned, but the people who abandoned him were not entirely responsible for his situation. Luck and chance were just as much a part of it, and that was something that Niccolo could not forgive.

Because, in his short time in exile, Niccolo no longer believed in luck and chance. Sure, there was the occasional coincidence, but when it came to the biggest issues in his life, he needed something to blame. He could not blame random happenstance for how he had to kill others to survive; he could not blame the winds for his poor fortune. To Niccolo, it all led back to that mystical, supreme being, wherever it was.

Niccolo resented God. He had never fully believed in the deity, but now that the tables were turned and chance was no longer a plaything for the merchant prince, Niccolo needed a scapegoat. He needed an enemy and person to blame, and if he could not blame his friends and family for abandoning him, he might as well believe in a fabrication. Niccolo might as well believe in a God of terror, pain and mischief, because the alternative was so much worse. The alternative, that he had just been randomly afflicted with a disease that ate away his skin and disfigured him, was not something he could justify.

He tore away at the bandages on his head, determined to value the rest of his limited eyesight. Niccolo was not going to hide behind any more bandages; he was not just going to blend in anymore. The people deserved to see what God did to him. There was no sin in Niccolo's heart before God cursed him and destroyed the man he used to be. Niccolo would walk through the streets proudly, a blight upon His chosen people.

The leper straightened his back and then walked toward the opening to the broad avenue. There was a church across the way and, now that he noticed it, Niccolo had to smile, which caused the maimed skin on his left side to bunch up painfully. The leper grunted, but as he stood at the opening of the side street and considered his vendetta against God, he gave a crooked smile with the right side of his face.

He turned to the right and walked down the street, proudly showing off the ruined skin of his face and neck to the normal, god-fearing people who passed by him. The men backed away in horror, the merchants placed their hands on the handles of their knives and hovered over their wares. When Niccolo looked down at the gaping children and gave them a crooked smile, their mothers would scream and gather them close. Niccolo enjoyed this new power that he had over the noble citizens of Firenze. If he could not be one of them, if God so desired to separate him from the rest, then Niccolo would just have to oblige. He would just have to disgust the world and show them what God had done to him.

However, that cruel, desperate happiness fell away when he heard the lilt of a familiar laugh. Niccolo's eyes widened as he saw her, as he saw Camilla walking down the street with a smile on her face. She had not noticed him yet, but the world disappeared for Niccolo. The leper had gone by the Gherardini Estate a number of times to catch a glimpse of her, but he would stick to the shadows, bundled up in his rags. Now that he was in the middle of the street, his rags torn from him in his twisted vanity, Niccolo was exposed. He looked to his sides and found there were no side streets to retreat into, no escape from the woman he loved, who would finally able to see the horror he had become. Now, Niccolo only wished for oblivion.

Then he saw the glint of metal around her neck. At first, Niccolo just assumed it was just another necklace that her father had provided for or, worse, one of the presents her suitors had given in order to steal her heart away. He held a grudge for those perfect, handsome young men who now had the opportunity to take his former future; Niccolo spent many nights pretending that he was still going to marry her, but eventually those suitors would interrupt with their presence and force him to remember his place.

However, when she came closer, within ten feet or so, Niccolo realized that it was not an ordinary necklace. The small links were made of silver, just a plain band, but that was not what drew Niccolo's gaze. There, just above the line of her cleavage, Niccolo saw the ring he had given her. Around her neck, she wore a constant reminder of the man she had loved. With that, Niccolo realized that she might still love him; with that, Niccolo's heart broke once more.

That was enough to stop him in his tracks and allow Camilla to notice him.

"Nico..." she uttered under her breath, completely unable to stop her reaction. Her lip quivered and her entire body shook ever so slightly as she took in the sight of her former lover. The man Camilla used to adore was standing before her in piles of rags, dirt and grime covering every inch of him, and the rot that had taken Niccolo from her had spread to the face she had kissed so many times. Camilla gasped as she realized that this was what happened to the man she had been about to marry, and Niccolo could not help the tears that poured from his eyes and became dirty before they reached his chin.

"Do you know this scum?" the man on her left asked, which broke the two of them out of their wordless exchange. Niccolo looked at him and instantly felt rage at his intrusion. The man was clearly another merchant's son, or maybe a merchant himself, and had the smug features which normally accompanied that level of fortune. His black hair was pulled back and soaked with oil or some other substance which kept it from leaving its place on his head, and the fierce, black eyes were narrowed to slits. His dress was especially offensive, canary yellow garments with accents of blue, which was a garment Niccolo would never have worn even on a dare. As soon as Niccolo recognized the man's colors, he knew this was no merchant's son.

It was one of the nobles.

Behind him were a number of other men who were clearly his bodyguards. None of them seemed like they had a chance to have Camilla's hand in marriage. They only looked at Niccolo and regarded him with contempt, but Niccolo was not watching them; he was watching the beautiful woman who wore his ring around her neck. At the man's question, Camilla stammered for a bit, trying to wipe away the tears that had sprung forth, but eventually she turned to him.

"I...he...his name is Niccolo Vespucci. He's somebody I used to know," she said, trailing off at the end before looking into Niccolo's eyes. Her face was filled with compassion, but she did not want to admit how close they had been. When she saw the tortured expression which twisted Niccolo's face, Camilla quickly looked to the side. The woman could not stand to hurt him, but there was nothing left for them.

"Wait, _this_ is that merchant's son?" Giovanni Simonetti asked in disbelief before turning to look Niccolo over. His olive skin seemed just a little too tan, a little too clean, which bothered the leper. The man stepped forward and looked Niccolo up and down before breaking into a wide smile. "What living on the streets can do to a man. I see the blight on him, now," he said before pointing at Niccolo's face. The leper glared at him before shaking his head slightly.

"Back off, or see what happens to that finger," he threatened, violence permeating every syllable. The well-kept man stumbled back in shock before anger flashed through his eyes and his hand flew to the handle of the blade on his hip.

"What did you say, _beggar?_ " he snarled, meeting Niccolo's violence with some of his own. Camilla stepped forward then and put her hand on the man's yellow sleeve.

"Giovanni, stop! He's just a proud man!" she urged, but that only drew a look of disdain from the olive-skinned man.

"Proud? He's a lowlife. He doesn't _get_ to be _proud_ ," he almost spat in her face, causing Niccolo's hand to drift to his blade. Giovanni and the men behind him all noticed the movement and Niccolo could see his bodyguards withdraw clubs from their belts before starting to walk toward him. Niccolo wondered if he would be able to fight them all alone.

"Anybody can be proud, _Giovanni_ , but some people don't deserve to be," he said as he gripped the handle of his sword tightly. "The kind of man who would talk that way to Camilla doesn't deserve her. Maybe that's why she wears another man's ring around her neck." At the statement, the noble's son looked over at Camilla's neck and scoffed. He turned back to him and withdrew his blade slowly, letting the metal grind against the leather scabbard in a show of intimidation.

"That little piece of metal? She won't be needing it after she marries me. Tell you what," he said as he walked forward, not impressed by Niccolo drawing his own blade, "I'll melt it down into two coins and put them on your eyes so that you can pay the ferryman."

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Niccolo said as he grabbed his dagger with his left hand and watched his advancing opponents. Already he was thinking about how he would need to parry Giovanni's strike and move past him in order to quickly take out his bodyguards. "It might be me melting down your sword and-"

He did not get to finish his retort, as a strong blow hit him across the back of his neck. Niccolo fell down, not unconscious but completely stunned, and rolled over to see another brute standing over him. While Niccolo lay there it was not difficult for the men to disarm him, as he did not have enough strength to hold onto his weapons. His vision was blurry, but he could tell the three bodyguards were standing over him along with Giovanni in his canary-yellow garb, laughing at the beggar at their feet.

Then they started to beat the life from him. They kicked and slammed their fists into him, breaking a few ribs and causing the skin around his eye to tear open and bleed profusely, staining his vision. Niccolo realized he was going to die there while a self-entitled noble laughed with his bodyguards, but eventually he heard a woman's voice cry out.

"Stop it! Stop it! You've already beat him!" Camilla screamed, pushing away the four men from his body before falling on top of him and putting her arms across him for protection. While the weight forced the breath from him and the fall added to the aches and pains he was experiencing, Niccolo was grateful. This woman, this woman who could have just let him die in disgrace, decided to save him instead. And in a whisper, he heard Camilla sob out the words that hurt him more than all of the beatings.

"I'll marry you. Just let him go. Just let him live," she cried, her face buried in Niccolo's damaged chest.

"You'll marry me?" Giovanni asked above them, his oily hand running through his black beard. "I just have to let him live?"

"Yes," the words leaked out of her with her tears. Niccolo could see her looking him in the eye and could tell that she did not want this. She knew Giovanni to be the cruel man that he was, but she was giving herself to him. Just so that this rotting lover of hers could live another day. Niccolo's heart went out to her, but he would have rather died.

"Fine, get up. He won't die today," Giovanni said as he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her to her feet, leaving Niccolo alone on the dirt. Then Giovanni pushed her over to his thuggish bodyguard, who held her shoulders in his massive hands. "But I can't just let him get away with this insult."

"No...no! Stop it!" Camilla screamed as she saw him untying the front of his trousers and she struggled against her captor. Giovanni just gave her a wicked smile and continued lazily untying the knots.

"You have nothing left to barter, _my_ _love_. Now," he said before turning to Niccolo, who was still writhing on the floor. Giovanni struggled for a moment, muttering to himself about the knot being too difficult, but eventually he lowered his trousers and brought out his genitals. "We'll give the beggar some gold."

Niccolo tried to ward off the noble's urine, but he was practically broken and he could not help himself. Camilla was screaming in protest at first, but then those screams turned to sobs and then those sobs turned to silent crying. The leper stopped fighting as the stream continued, and instead looked at the woman who had traded her future for his life. Niccolo realized then that he still loved her and would never stop and that, from her actions, she was still just as attached to him.

The world just would not let them be together.

The four men left with their laughter, their property and Niccolo's pride. What little of it he had kept after his exile had been stolen; the urine soaking his rags had seen to that. To add to his misery, the thugs had taken his weapons, so now Niccolo was just left with the blight on his left side and the meager offerings in the satchel on his belt.

He picked himself up, the foul liquid dripping from him, and that's when he noticed the assorted people watching him. Niccolo looked at all of them in anger; they had just let all of this happen to him. As they gaped at him, Niccolo realized that he was past resentment. Now he was filled with anger.

That was when he looked up and saw the cross above the doorway. He snarled, the skin around his nostrils flaring with anger, and then limped through the open doorway of the house of worship. The church was abandoned, just like that first church, so Niccolo did not bother to treat the place with reverence. He ignored the pain in his legs and marched up to the altar before looking at the effigy of Jesus and slamming his fists against the wooden altar.

"Are you FUCKING kidding?" he shouted out, his voice filled with anger and pain. "What the FUCK did I do? I didn't do a _damn_ thing wrong when I was just Niccolo Vespucci. I was a good son, I was nice to everyone and I turned the other goddamned cheek! The only crimes I've committed have happened since you gave _this_ ," he shouted before tearing away the bandages from his rotting arm and shoving it skyward, "to me!" He then pointed his disgusting, weeping arm at the pain-ridden wooden effigy, blame pouring through his finger and words.

"You want to talk about sin? You want to talk about people who deserve to go through life crippled and maimed? How about Giovanni Simonetti? That rich, entitled piece of shit just stole the love of my life and then _pissed on me_? In the middle of the _street_? How much more do you want me to suffer? How much more do you want to tease me and torture me before sending me to Hell? That's _obviously_ where you want me to go!" he screamed, bringing his arm down and gripping the altar tightly with both hands.

"I am _not_ Job. I'm just a man. And if this is how you want to play this, then I'll welcome the Devil with open arms," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the pain-ridden messiah on the wall.

"God, I hope they never take your tongue," a voice echoed throughout the room, but Niccolo didn't bother to give into surprise; he already knew who was speaking to him. It was the first voice to betray him.

"Innocenti, this is _not_ a good time. I can still strangle you with my bare hands," he said before turning and watching the merchant approach him. Instead of looking threatened, the smaller man dressed in his simple, purple outfit just shrugged.

"I know, I saw."

"I wanted to kill you, Innocenti. You betrayed me. And now," Niccolo said as he limped away from the altar and ignored the pain in his ribs, which had returned now that the shock had worn off, "now I'm just looking for the excuse to kill someone."

"I can certainly give you that, Nico, but I never betrayed you. I had hoped the viper would have worked, but you can never really trust medicine and doctors," Innocenti said in a dismayed voice before walking over to a divider and setting his weight on it. "Poor luck on your part."

"Out...with it, Lorenzo," Niccolo said, flinching as the intake of air caused a spasm to rock through his torso. He cradled his right side with his rotten arm, unable to ignore the pain any longer.

"Work for me in Napoli. I've been looking for some more...permanent means to persuade some vocal opponents and officials. With the right equipment, I'm sure we could make use of your," he said before looking him up and down before cocking his head to the right, "finesse."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, wary of what the scheming merchant could want from him. Innocenti just sighed before clasping his hands in front of his hips.

"It's not very often that I come across a man who has been trained in combat, who has the ability to kill with impunity," he said, the subtlety disappearing from his words. Niccolo straightened up, feeling the pain in his ribs but not letting his face show it.

"How do you..."

"Please, Nico," Innocenti said as he rolled his eyes and paced in front of the leper. "I've been keeping an eye on you, mostly because I thought you were going to kill me, but it became apparent that you know how to kill a man and get away with it. I had heard you were skilled with a blade, but it seems that you're simply just skilled in most things you try."

"You want me to kill people for you?" Niccolo asked, raising an eyebrow and feeling the scabs by his eye cracking a bit. He wished that he had not done that, but tried to pretend that blood was not about to start trickling down his face.

"Yes. I think you'd be good at that. We'll mend those bones of yours, teach you the ways of the East, and after you've repaid me with some years of work, we'll get you back to kill this Simonetti character. I feel like that's a fair deal," Innocenti said before squaring up to Niccolo and breathing in deeply. Niccolo considered the man's words for a moment, realizing that he might be throwing away more than just a few years, but then he smelled the urine on his clothes. He remembered Camilla's frightened and sorrowful face. When Niccolo looked up at Innocenti, there was very little of the kind, light-hearted, merchant prince he used to be.

"A few years?" he asked, but Innocenti just shrugged again.

"I have to get _something_ out of you. I feel bad about the viper, but a man must make his living," he almost seemed to breathe out before staring back into Niccolo's eyes. The leper just stepped forward and placed his rotten arm by his side, the pain in his torso a distant ache. Thoughts of revenge had clouded his senses.

"You're right. A man must make his living. When do we leave?" he asked, which brought a smile to Innocenti's face.

"Soon. Within a week, I should say," he laughed before looking at the effigy of Christ on the wall behind Niccolo. "I must say, I appreciate the irony of contracting an assassin in the house of God." Niccolo looked over his shoulder at the statue's pained expression and glared at it for a moment.

"What's so ironic? _He_ did this to me. Now He gets to watch."

# Chapter 9: A Confederacy of Demons

Niccolo gasped awake, his heart pumping so hard that he thought it might burst out of his chest. Sweat poured down from his forehead and he could feel his long hair matted onto his skin, but that was not what drew his interest. Cadmus looked up at him from the corner of his room, peering at him from beneath his hood.

"Nightmare?" he asked, breathing in sharply as he recovered from his own nap. Niccolo brought up his rotten arm and massaged the ruined skin of his face, breathing shakily as he recalled the images in his mind. From time to time, he would still think about those long years in Napoli and the destruction he had caused in his anger. Though, in his dreams, Innocenti was never the small man who had taught him the way of an assassin. He was what Niccolo thought God might look like, long flowing robes and light radiating from his skin. Before he had come to Hell, Niccolo thought that he was special, that God was personally punishing him.

Now he knew better.

"Just some memories, you know how it is," Niccolo muttered as he tried to calm down the heart pumping furiously within his chest. He did not know why his body pretended to function anymore, the whole thing was essentially a vestigial organ, but somehow it helped Niccolo feel more at peace. It was the last bit of humanity left to him, so he was grateful when he could still wake up from his dreams in a panic.

Niccolo looked at his friend in the corner and sighed. Cadmus had chosen not to return to his quarters and opted to sleep on the rigid chair in Niccolo's room. It was far too dangerous for them to separate, Niccolo agreed, but he imagined the reaper's back was a canvas of aches and pains.

"Did you get much sleep?" Niccolo asked as he swung his legs over to the right side of his straw bed. If nothing else, at least they didn't have to deal with bedbugs in Hell; the only insects they encountered were conjured by demons or gigantic versions of their earthly cousins. Niccolo played with a stray piece of straw as Cadmus set down his scythe and yawned.

"Not particularly, but I'm used to that," the reaper tried to say, but his words were warped by the yawn. The leper shrugged before standing up and feeling echoes of cramps along his entire body, cursing this rotten business with the Cult. Both of them had slept in full armor, as they could not guarantee the Shroud would not send any agents to silence them during the night.

It was exactly what Niccolo would have done if he wanted to kill _his_ enemies.

"How long was I out?" Niccolo asked as he stretched his limbs and prepared for the day. He knew things were about to get completely out of control.

"Just a few hours, but I think we can start heading over to the palace. All your bones in the right place?" Cadmus asked with a slight laugh, but Niccolo gave him a disapproving look.

"Yes, I'm fine," he grumbled, still ashamed that he had been beaten so thoroughly by Mammon and Marchosias. His bones were fine; his pride had not fared so well. The leper walked over to the window of his room and peered out, looking for any possible dangers in their path. He was apprehensive, but the clearing in front of the stables was completely empty.

"Then I guess we'd better get going," Cadmus breathed out, leaning heavily on his scythe as always. Niccolo scoffed at that, but pushed open the door to the clearing covered in mist. Hell was an odd place, but Niccolo had found out very early on that the priests and mystics were all wrong. There was fire, certainly, but there was wind and water and ice, as well. Just like Earth, Hell had its own ecosystem and perpetual fire was never going to be sustainable. From his first dawn in the Pestilence Quarter, Niccolo had always known the dark, morning mist to cover his home for the first few hours.

The two of them exited Niccolo's home and felt the morning dew clinging to their skin and clothing. They could barely see in front of them, the fog was so thick, but they pushed on anyway. On any other day, Niccolo would have stayed inside his modest home until the mist abated, he preferred to stay dry, but they did not particularly have a choice. As they passed by the archery targets, Niccolo remembered his first years in Hell. Barbas had done what he could to make him feel more at home and Niccolo owed the fallen a debt, but he was not sure he would ever be able to repay it.

They summoned their horses, Plague and Mercy drawing into physical form while the mist swirled around them, but they did not feel the need to bother with theatrics. Both of them climbed onto their mounts with little fanfare, still trying to wake up after their small amount of sleep. Niccolo felt like he was not nearly rested enough for the coming events.

Plague and Mercy slowly walked through the foggy, open ground, their hooves creating suction sounds as they were lifted out of the mud. They had plenty of time to get to the palace before the kings would arrive, so each fell into their own thoughts. After just a few minutes of walking, a dark shadow condensed ahead of them, which caused both men to prepare themselves for a fight. Perhaps they would meet this Shroud before the Council, after all.

However, their worries were proved groundless as they drew closer, seeing the kind face of Barbas. The fallen angel was dressed in simple, brown robes with a twisted, wooden staff in his left hand, but he had always been one for dressing modestly. The demon's face was a mess of wrinkles and grey hair, making him look to be in his late fifties, but his eyes had never lost that spark of divinity. From twenty feet away, the two Horsemen could see his vibrant, light-green eyes shining in the low fog.

"Going somewhere, boys?" he asked, bringing his staff in front of him and setting both of his wrinkled hands on top of the curled, knobby end. Niccolo stammered at first, Plague drawing him closer to his master, and could not find a reasonable excuse for his behavior.

"The palace," Cadmus ventured, drawing the gaze of the old demon. "Lucifer wanted extra security when the kings arrived."

"I don't doubt he needs the security," Barbas said as he continued to stare into the reaper's eyes, his eyelids twitching ever so slightly before giving a thin smile, "but that is what the Hell Knights are for. He doesn't need two young pups to watch his back, even if he has stolen the two of you away from me."

"He's actually...he wants to show us to the kings," Niccolo said, his voice weak and making him feel so small in front of the demon who raised him up from the dirt. "Since the Apocalypse seems so close, he felt like it would be a good idea for them to see us and get to know who we are."

Barbas straightened his back, his spine popping and cracking as the old bones moved around, and then shuffled toward the Horsemen, not bothering to look at either of them. When he was just a foot away from the horses, he lifted one of his withered hands and scratched the hair on Plague's neck.

"Two hundred years. Two hundred years and this boy still thinks he can lie to me," Barbas said as he continued to stroke the horse's neck with fondness. Plague leaned into the demon's caress and closed his eyes, but he did not stay silent.

"Perhaps he thinks it's better for you to stay ignorant, master," Plague's deep voice resonated in the wet air, bringing a friendly smile to the fallen's face.

"Don't call me that, Plague. I'm no one's master. Just an old man with a foolish streak," he said before looking up at the boy on the black horse. "How else could I explain caring for an arrogant bastard who just doesn't know when to quit?"

"I thought you liked that about him," Cadmus interjected. Barbas chuckled for a moment, but he did not stop looking at the leper above him.

"I guess that's fair," he said, his eyes shining just a little brighter. "Is there any chance I can convince the two of you to stay out of trouble?"

"We could tell you what we're..." Niccolo started, his levity absent as he faltered under his master's gaze. The demon just shook his head ever so slightly and sighed.

"No, I think Plague had the right of it. I guess I just need to resign myself to cleaning up the mess after you've made your mistakes," he said, his eyes still gazing straight into Niccolo's face. It made the leper feel awkward and he shifted in his saddle, wondering why Barbas would not break his stare.

"I'll keep him safe, old man," Cadmus said, which made the fallen angel finally turn away from his young student. The smile on his face broke for a moment, and Cadmus could have sworn that his lip quivered.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll try. It's such a shame that he goes and puts himself in danger anyway," he said before stroking Mercy's white face and whispering something to the reaper's mount. His hand shook as it left the white horse and his gaze returned to Cadmus. "I don't see why the two of you need to get into trouble so much." When he finished his criticism, the old demon turned back to his student and set his right hand on Niccolo's knee. The leper could feel it trembling.

"I don't know what you two have gotten into, but with everything that's about to happen..." he trailed off, looking at the ground for a moment before breathing in deeply. When he brought his gaze back up, he stared right into Niccolo's face with those green eyes, but Niccolo saw something that he did not expect. The old demon's face was filled with pride and sadness; somehow he could tell what was at stake.

"Do your best. The two of you, you have good hearts. You might have come here in rough condition," he said before patting Niccolo's knee and laughing, "but we beat some of that out of you. Don't...don't trust anybody. There's no telling who is who. But I know this," Barbas continued as his eyes gleamed, moist in the morning air. "You're damn good men, and you're going to do the best damned job possible."

"Barbas," Niccolo said under his breath, emotion threatening to break his composure. The fallen just shook his student's knee and dropped his cane to the ground before raising his other hand to Plague's saddle.

"I'm already proud of you bastards," he said before turning to Cadmus. "Both of you," Barbas added before turning back. "Make sure I'm not wrong, alright? You don't have to win; you don't have to get out of there in one piece. Though," he said before dropping his hands to his side and bending over to pick up his cane, "I guess I'd prefer it if you did."

"We trust _you_ ," Cadmus started, but the old man straightened up and slowly started to walk between them, using his cane to tap along the wet ground of the clearing and waving away the reaper's comment with his free hand.

"Well, that might be a safe bet, but that," he said before turning and pointing past them with his cane, causing the Horsemen to look behind them. The fog had parted and allowed them to see the palace towering above the rest of Dis, its gold walls gleaming in reflected firelight.

"I can't help you with that, boys, whatever you're going to do."

"Actually," Niccolo said, but he felt the crack of wood against his grieves, which made him look back at his master. Instead of pride, the old man's face was stern and shook with annoyance.

"I'm too old, boys, and I was never one for a fight. I'm sure the two of you can handle it. Don't..." he said before turning and heading toward his small hovel which stood only a few yards away from Niccolo's house. "Don't you lose your stubborn will now. You meant to leave without me. Follow through on your actions, boys, whatever they are."

Niccolo watched the old fallen hobble away, but after a moment he turned back to look at the palace, his fear and anxiety disappearing. If nothing else, Niccolo would not disappoint the old man who had raised him up from the depths. He urged Plague forward and the horse broke into a light trot. Neither of them felt the need to delay any longer.

Cadmus went along with his friend, but his mind was not so clear. As they rode toward the palace, he concentrated in his mind and called out to Mercy. _What did he say to you?_ he thought, knowing that Barbas had been very deliberate with his words. Mercy was silent for a moment, which made Cadmus consider asking again, but soon the rasp of the white steed whispered in his mind.

_He commanded me to tell you..._ the horse started, but then his thoughts broke off on their own. Cadmus could only tell that the horse felt anxious about the statement, but he did not want to hurry Mercy along. When Cadmus looked up at the towering palace, Mercy's voice rattled again.

If Niccolo dies, make sure it was worth it.

***

Cadmus was still eyeing Niccolo as they found their way to the outer yards of the palace, his thoughts on Barbas' message. If the fallen angel knew they were in such danger, Cadmus could not comprehend why he would not help, but the reaper soon found his answer. Barbas was never much of a fighter, even if he could manipulate disease, and he had always been more of a kind teacher. Perhaps he knew that he would just get in the way.

In any case, the time to think on Barbas' cryptic message was behind them. When they found themselves in the outer yard, they dismissed Mercy and Plague, each dissolving in their own way.

"C'mon, we should get inside," Niccolo said before walking to the tall, iron double doors, but he was interrupted by a voice coming from the main pathway.

"Are you Niccolo?" a strong male voice bellowed, which caused the leper to turn around. Underneath the main archway, a man in black armor was riding a grotesque, white horse. The man was handsome with bright, blue eyes and blond hair, looking to be in his early forties, and the black armor he wore was very intimidating. He had to be at least eight feet tall and from what Niccolo could see, the man was quite muscular underneath all of that armor. Although he had a somewhat normal appearance for a demon, the Horsemen could tell that a great power was hiding underneath it all.

That might have been because of the appearance of his horse. Unlike Mercy, who, despite his habit of turning into dust, was an otherwise pure-white stallion, this demon's horse was a terror. Bone spurs stuck out of its flesh and trickles of blood flowed from open wounds. The discs of its spine were gruesomely oversized and could be seen stretching the skin underneath, but the most disturbing aspect of the beast was its head. The teeth had been sharpened to points and the skin around its mouth cut back so they were constantly on display, and two spiraled horns jutted out from the sides of its face.

At first, the rider and the horse did not seem to go together.

"That's me," Niccolo said as he turned to face the man, his eyes finally parting from the mounted figure to notice that he was followed by a trail of twelve armored demons of different shapes and sizes. Some were squat and fat, others were gangly and tall, one was almost as large as the demon and his horse combined, but most of them were about the average height of a man. They each held different weapons holstered on their belts and backs, but they all had the black armor of their leader. Niccolo knew he was in the presence of royalty.

"I heard Lucifer kept two of you as pets, flaunting about Adonai's little plan," the demon said as his horse approached them, coming within a couple yards of Niccolo. "I can't entirely say I'm impressed."

"Your majesty," Cadmus uttered before kneeling on the stone of the outer yard. The large man looked over and grunted before turning back to Niccolo, who was still standing by the iron doors.

"At least that one knows his place. How quaint that you remain standing," the demonic king said before swinging his right leg over the monstrous horse and then pushing himself out of the saddle. He turned lazily to one of the smaller men and nodded at the pathway on the left side of the palace.

"Take Misery to the stables and give her a meal of one of the lesser beasts. She must be hungry," he said before turning to Cadmus, who had lifted his head slightly so he could look at the demonic king. As his men took the white monstrosity along the pathway to the stables, the fallen walked over to Cadmus and towered over him, crossing his arms. "Do you know who I am?"

"You're King Beleth. We've met before," Cadmus said before moving to stand up, but Beleth put out his leg and placed his weight on the reaper's shoulder.

"That's right. Where do you think you're going?" he asked with a slight turn to the corners of his lips, but Cadmus grunted and shifted his weight, letting the King's leg fall to the ground. Cadmus stood up and then set the handle of his scythe against the ground in defiance.

"I'm standing, Beleth," Cadmus said, his expression having darkened after the demon king's humiliating act. Beleth continued to tower over Cadmus, but the smile had gone from his face. "You're a king and that deserves some respect. _Some_. I'm not going to stay on my knees all day."

"The two of you need to learn your place," Beleth bellowed, turning to address the Niccolo, who was standing by the door. "You're just human. Some part of Adonai's little game. Don't presume to be on the same level as a king," he said, watching as Niccolo approached the two of them.

"We don't," Niccolo broke into the conversation as he approached him. "We're not ones to act beneath our station," he teased, bringing a glare from the large demon, but they were all broken out of the confrontation by a roar of laughter. All three of them turned to the wall of the palace and found a creature moving around near one of the major supports. After a few moments of laughter, the creature picked itself up and they could see him for what he really was.

"Hah, I like this new pet of Lucy's! He's not all stuffy and arrogant like the last Pestilence!" the demon shouted, his broad face twisted into a wide smile. He was massive, as wide as all three of them combined, and he still held a solid foot on the Horsemen looking at him in confusion, no small part of that caused by the two bull horns sticking out from the sides of his head. The demon was dressed in rags which barely covered his muscles and distended abdomen; he clearly did not care too much about his appearance. Then, the ground shuddering with every step and stumble, the large demon walked toward them with a bottle in his hand.

"King Zagan, I had no idea..." Cadmus started, but the fat demon just waved the comment away with his free hand and took another drink from his bottle, which was half-filled with red wine.

"Ah, don't worry about that. I was just taking a nap in the corner. I'm sure I looked like a pile of laundry or something," Zagan said with a smile before pointing at his fellow king. "Not like my fancy brother over there."

"Have you no _shame_?" Beleth asked, but Zagan just roared with laughter again.

"You kidding, Bel? Never did! Now why don't you take that stick out of your ass and have a drink?" he asked before walking forward and extending the hand holding the bottle. Already the amount of wine was half what it was when Zagan stumbled over to them.

"It's not even _noon_ ," the blonde demon said with disgust, but the bull-headed king just rolled his eyes and patted Niccolo on the shoulder with his free hand.

"You watch out for this one. He is going to make this Council all stuffy and insufferable, that's what he's going to do," he said before lifting the bottle to his lips and draining it completely. When he brought it back down, the bottle quickly refilled with more of the red liquid, seemingly out of nowhere. He then offered it to the leper underneath his hand. "You want shome?"

"How did you...actually, sure," Niccolo said in confusion, taking the bottle and then taking a big gulp. The sheer amount of alcohol would be enough to make him gag, normally, but the Horseman kept a straight face and swallowed it down. Almost immediately, whatever unease he felt had completely disappeared.

"Hah! That's demon wine, boy! You humans aren't supposed to be able to drink it without puking your guts out!"

"Really?" Niccolo asked, his throat on fire and his stomach churning a bit, but he kept a half-smile on his face. "Wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't that bad," Zagan muttered as he patted Niccolo's shoulder, which felt like someone had hit him with a hammer. He brought his arm around the smaller man and laughed heartily. "He can lie like a champ, too! Beleth, how can you not like these guys?" he asked, but Beleth's face twitched in disapproval.

"I talk down to the animals, Zagan. Maybe that's why I'm always looking down at you, as well," he seemed to spit out, venom coursing through his words. The fatter demon just laughed before looking at the Horsemen.

"No sense of humor. None. I don't know how we're brothers."

"Just because Adonai created both of us does not mean we are _brothers_ ," Beleth said as he moved past them, anger held within those blue eyes. "I don't consider the animals my family, either." After the statement, the pair of soldiers who had been taking care of his horse returned, one of them holding his elbow and grimacing in pain.

"Your majesty, Malick was bitten by your horse," the unharmed soldier explained, but Beleth turned to them with disappointment.

"He was bitten? Did I not say the beast was hungry? Let her finish her meal," Beleth said off-handedly before towering over his subordinates. The unharmed soldier stammered for a moment before replying.

"Y-your majesty, what do you mean?" he asked, which brought a disgusted sigh from the demon king.

"Let me make this easy for you," Beleth said before looking at his injured subordinate and extended his left hand between them, drawing a circle with his finger. At three points along the circle, Beleth paused to scrawl an angelic letter in the air, and once he finished the design, the circle burned into the air and a bright, purple sigil formed in the interior. Before anyone could react, Beleth shoved his arm through the circle and three ghostly blades burst out of the ether and into his soldier, forcing the life from him in an instant.

"What the-" Niccolo started, about to jump into action, but Zagan just squeezed the arm wrapped around his shoulders and shook his head. There was no use in trying to stop Beleth, as he was allowed to treat his subjects any way he pleased. They only watched as the other soldier just looked up at his monarch and quaked with fear as Beleth leaned down.

"Now go feed my horse before I decide she needs a _feast_ ," he said before standing up to his full height and turning toward his audience. He could see the anger playing through Niccolo's face, but decided it was not worth a comment.

"I'll see you inside, Horsemen. _Zagan_ ," Beleth snarled, his tone icy and violent. When he approached the iron doors, they opened of their own accord, allowing the king to walk in without stopping. The rest of his men followed, each one glaring at the three of them, but soon they were all past the iron doors, with the exception of the poor soldier who was dragging his friend's corpse to the stables. Zagan shook his head and spat after them, a spray of red wine bursting from between his lips.

"Never met another fallen who hated his own kind that much," Zagan muttered as he took his arm back from around Niccolo's shoulders and then started toward the double doors.

"Why do you think that is?" Cadmus asked, causing the inebriated king to turn around and stumble in place. Zagan considered the question for a moment, looking at the wine in his bottle as he swirled it around, but eventually he looked back at the reaper.

"Some of us, not all of us by a long shot, you hear... Some of us didn't necessarily agree with Lucifer's little rebellion. They'd fight because of their love for the Morningstar, or maybe just because they thought he'd win. Or maybe they originally agreed with him but then the millions of years in the dark got to them."

"Us kings, we were chosen for another reason, but we've kept our stations because of our strength and our ability to keep our provinces under control. Some of us do it right, like how I keep most of us drunk and relatively happy, but others like Beleth," he said before looking to the double doors, imagining his brother on the other side of the metal. "He's one of those types who rules by fear. He was powerful up in Heaven, that's for sure, but he didn't really get to _rule_ anything. I think the power has just gone to his head."

"Was he always that much of an arrogant bastard?" Niccolo asked, shocking the king out of his memories. Zagan laughed again before putting his hand in Niccolo's hair and throwing it into disarray.

"That tongue of yours is gonna get you into trouble, Nico! Only, like, _half_ of us are going to let that slide!" he said before bringing back his hand and letting Niccolo pat his hair back into place, covering his ruined eye. Zagan sighed as he watched the leper and turned toward the main path into the palace. "But to answer you...no. Stuffy, yes, and he would not let anybody forget that he could destroy a mountain if he felt like it, but that tone of his came with living down here."

"Tell you what, kids," Zagan said before puffing up his chest and stumbling over to the iron doors. "If this council doesn't end in a bloodbath, which, hell, who knows? If it doesn't, I'll give you guys a treat. I'll tell you about how things used to be in Heaven," he said with a wink before climbing the steps to the entrance. The doors swung open again, allowing him to walk inside unimpeded. "Honey! I'm home!" he roared, the echoes of his yell only stopping once the double doors swung close. The Horsemen looked at each other, still confused by what had just taken place.

"I like him. Why can't they all be like him?" Niccolo asked, both of them breaking into nervous laughter, but eventually their thoughts returned to the crisis at hand. Niccolo turned back to the entrance and was soon joined by Cadmus, both of them considering the very same theory.

If they were going to suspect anyone, Beleth would have to be at the top of their list.

"You know, it could be too obvious," Niccolo added, drawing a sigh from Cadmus. He patted Niccolo's shoulder, which was still sore from Zagan's antics, and then walked up the steps to the palace.

"Yeah, well, we'll keep him in mind. We'd certainly need help if that was the case," he said, reaching the iron doors just ahead of his fellow Horseman.

"I think Zagan could take him. Did you see his muscles?" Niccolo asked in a light tone, but Cadmus just shook his head and swung open the right door with effort. Apparently the kings had a presence they did not, since the Horsemen actually had to pull them open.

"You and I both know that's not even close to being relevant. You've seen what kind of magic Beleth has at his disposal," the reaper said before allowing Niccolo to pass through the entrance. When they made their way through the doorway and were finally able to see the Reception Hall, they were shocked.

In just a day, the massive room had been completely altered. No longer was it plain and empty, its size intimidating to any newcomer. Now the entire hall was adorned with streaming banners and flags, every spare inch covered by some insignia or representation for the eleven provinces of Hell. And instead of its usual vacancy, it seemed like half of Dis had come to join them in the audience, and that was not even counting the demons each king had brought with them as their personal guards. Almost the entire court was present, even this early in the morning, and Niccolo had a hard time trying to recognize every demon in sight.

There were quite a few humanoid souls, but even the larger, more decorated demons had made their presence known. Niccolo could see creatures partially made of trees, twisted chimeras and living elementals, but what was most shocking was their attention to decorum and dress. Some of the most twisted forms had "luxurious" coats and hats and other items that had been crafted in the underworld in order to replicate their past lives. If nothing else, it made it easier for Niccolo to realize which souls were former humans and which were fallen angels. The Fallen would have no patience for such garb.

He had not even noticed that he had been walking forward with Cadmus by his side, who was likewise distracted. Neither of them had seen anything so chaotic in years.

"Was the last Council this crazy?" Niccolo whispered to his friend, not bothering to keep his eyes of the crowds ahead of them.

"Not even close. They always decorated it, but there are so many people here," Cadmus muttered, scanning the crowd for guests and, more importantly, other newly-arrived kings. Zagan and Beleth were easy to see, as they towered over the other guests, but Cadmus knew the other kings were more modest about their appearance.

"You naughty boys," a seductive voice floated toward them, causing both of them to snap their gaze to the source. A woman with black hair wrapped up with streams of gold and silver, interrupted by the occasional ruby, approached them, her pearl-colored dress leaving almost nothing to the imagination. At first, Niccolo thought it was Paimon trying on another shape, but then he saw the black hair and the familiar cheekbones and instantly knew they had found their co-conspirator.

"Sitri," Cadmus greeted her, choking on words as he forced himself not to look at the demon's hips. "So you decided to be a woman today?"

"Hmm," she purred as he put a long, delicate finger underneath Cadmus' chin and then dragged the tip of her nail from his Adam's apple to the stubble on his chin. Then she pouted and drew her lips to his ears. "Not quite. _Felt like being adventurous_."

"Then we'll be sure not to look down and ruin the surprise," Niccolo joked, which brought a coy smile from the demon, who placed her curled fingers behind his ear and gently massaged the soft flesh.

"Oh, and I thought we liked surprises," she teased before grabbing his ear with force, doing the same with Cadmus' chin, and then dragged them into one of the dark alcoves to their left. After they were out of sight from court and she had let go of them, Sitri put her index finger up to her lips and glared at them before turning and heading down the hallway. The Horsemen followed after her, shaken by the Sitri's antics, and each tried to avoid looking at the demon's swaying backside.

It seemed like they were walking for ten minutes, going up and down stairwells, through hallways and terraces before they finally walked into one of the storerooms, Sitri shutting the door behind them. Niccolo noticed they even doubled back on their route a few times, but he kept quiet at the demon's insistence.

"Were you followed?" she asked, her voice lower than it had been before. Sitri had always liked playing with her gender, so the more masculine voice was not much of a surprise.

"No, we would have noticed," Cadmus said, but Sitri breathed out deeply, disdain creating wrinkles on her narrow face.

"You probably wouldn't, you idiots, but at least I know they aren't doing anything too obvious," she said before putting her palm against her left cheek, clearly in the middle of thought. After pacing the room a moment, she looked back up at the Horsemen. "So did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Niccolo asked, which answered the question for the pansexual demon. She brought her hand away from her face and then placed them on the shoulders of the Horsemen. Sitri breathed out deeply before looking them each in the eye, which allowed them to see the tears she refused to cry.

"Andras is gone. They got him last night after he left me. Went feral and terrorized the Famine Quarter," she said before withdrawing her hands and wiping away the tears that threatened her composure. "Crocell ended up killing him, though Andras fought him hard. The slayer's going to need a couple days to recover."

"He went feral?" Niccolo asked in shock, causing Sitri to look at the floor and nod. She was clearly holding back further tears and only just succeeded. His world dissolving around him, Niccolo fell back against a nearby crate and tried to consider this new situation. Again, he felt the anger and rage of Valefor breaking into his mind, but he tried to ignore it.

"That means they're on to us," Cadmus muttered, holding onto his scythe for support. This time, Sitri was able to gather herself and looked him in the eye.

"Yeah, specifically me. Your little investigation is causing some waves, guys," she said before crossing her arms, her sorrow abandoned as the Horsemen reeled from the information.

"Then why are you here? They'll probably try to get you, too," Niccolo added, but Sitri shook her head and then sat on a nearby barrel, crossing her legs for comfort.

"In the _middle_ of the _Council_? No, I'm too high profile; people would notice if I went missing. If I go feral or die, it's going to be with everyone else," she said before interlacing her fingers and holding them in front of her.

"So what are we going to do?" Cadmus asked, which made the hermaphrodite shrug before nodding at the door.

"Exactly what we were _going_ to do. You still need to know which kings are which, you still need to know about any possible threats or theories as to who could be the Shroud. We're just going to have to move on, try to deal without Andras. Otherwise his death would be in vain."

"Wait, but then we'll be even bigger targets!" Niccolo shouted, pushing himself off the crate and walking up to the seated demon. "If they're already onto us..."

"Oh, it must be so difficult to be so thick," Sitri said with a slight pout before scratching underneath his chin with her left hand. "Relax, kiddo, same reasons apply to you. That, and I'm fairly sure the two of you are going to present a challenge to them. Me, well, all I have is under this pretty dress of mine," she said before lifting her leg slightly and letting out a short laugh. After she brought her leg back down, she looked at the Horsemen with a serious expression. "We carry on with the plan. We do what we need to do." Niccolo backed away from the demon's antics and crossed his arms; he did not particularly like the affectionate nature of the hermaphrodite. However, Niccolo looked to his left at the reaper and sighed, knowing they had very little choice at this point.

"Then let's go meet the Kings of Hell."

***

"Purson, sweetie, how _are_ you?" Sitri exclaimed as she put her arms around the king from the Southern Province. Niccolo had heard quite a few things about the Serpent King and his desert province, but the demon was even more intimidating in person. The fallen angel had done away with his legs and instead had the powerful lower half of a great serpent; his yellow green scales reflected the torchlight in the reception hall and almost hid the king in plain sight. He still retained arms so that he could interact with the world around him, but the rest of his body had the scale pattern and reptilian features of a large snake. It made it all the more strange to see the demon smiling when Sitri embraced him.

"Ssso much better now that you're here," Purson hissed out, his dark tongue flickering in delight and the skin around his teeth pulled back into a dangerous smile. "I wasss beginning to die of boredom."

"After all these years?" Sitri asked as she pulled back, the pearl-white dress clinging slightly to the edges of Purson's chest scales. "Is a mere day in Dis enough to end the mighty Purson's will to live?" she mockingly asked, and from the slight seizing in the king's body, Niccolo realized he was laughing.

"Talk to Bael for a minute and you feel like you've wasssted a millennium, my dear. Now, you mussst tell me who these ssstrapping, young gentlemen are," he said before turning his dark eyes to Cadmus and Niccolo. The hermaphrodite laughed softly before stepping to the king's side, taking care not to trip on his coiled lower body.

"I believe you met Cadmus during the last Council," Sitri said as she waved toward the reaper. The king nodded briefly before flicking out his tongue.

"Ah, my missstake, Pale Rider. There are so many different smellsss in this room, it's playing havoc with my ssensses."

"Quite alright, King Purson," Cadmus responded, nodding in respect. Sitri then motioned her hand toward Niccolo and smiled.

"And this is Niccolo da Firenze, now the Horseman of Pestilence," she offered, but before finishing her statement the reptilian king slinked forward, undulating his body and moving around the leper, who did his best to watch the snake without reacting poorly.

"Oh, I've heard about _him!_ " Purson exclaimed as he inspected the newest Horseman, his large face stopping just a foot above Niccolo's head. "Lucifer is quite taken with you!"

"He said that?" Niccolo asked, but Purson started shaking again, his version of laughter.

"Oh, he would never come out and sssay sssomething like that. Not with Mammon still around. But we kings, we're not known for resssting on our laurels. If there's drama, we have our ways of knowing," Purson said before moving past the leper, who only felt relieved once he was not surrounded by the demon's long body. "I've heard you're quite ssstubborn and headssstrong, Niccolo."

"That would be an understatement," Cadmus added, drawing a glare from his friend. Purson just flickered out his tongue once more before looking at Niccolo from his periphery.

"Yessss, I'm sure that played a part. You wouldn't realize it, now, but Lucifer was rather stubborn."

"I've heard something like that," Niccolo offered, which caused the Snake King to shudder with laughter again.

"Oh, little Horsemen, you have no idea. What got written down in that little text you humanssss are so fond of... The real sssstory has its own twistsss and turnsss," Purson hinted before using the end of his tail to play with Sitri's translucent dress. The demon just slapped away the reptilian extension and waved her finger in front of Purson.

"You think I'm going to let you do that in the middle of all these people?" she asked, the king shrugging playfully before replying.

"You can't blame a king for trying. It's treason in sssome provincesss," he hissed out before turning and seeing a squat, purple demon approaching them. Niccolo could already see the flies buzzing about the famous lord and almost did not notice Purson's reaction. "Oh, damn, he'sss going to need some sort of nonsenssse. Sitri," he said before turning to the beautiful woman, "take thisss one for me."

"Purson, don't you dare," she commanded, adopting a stern expression, but with alarming speed the Serpent King slinked away and the Horsemen were left to greet the fat, purple demon.

"Beelzebub, how are you?" Niccolo asked, already wondering how they were going to rid themselves of the power merchant. Beelzebub had a strange mixture of amphibian and insect features; his upper body was similar to a bullfrog, his purple skin glistened with viscous ooze, but his insect head complete with compound eyes made him look like a walking contradiction. He always seemed to be watching everyone at all times, and Niccolo just had to hope the merchant demon was not part of the Cult of Ascension.

"Just wonderful, Horseman, just wonderful. You have no idea how hard it is to negotiate between the provinces during the year. They're just so catty and jealous," Beelzebub said as he wiped his brow with a white handkerchief, green liquid soaking the piece of cloth. The Lord of Flies had never been known for his hygiene, but Niccolo had to wonder why the demon chose to look like that.

"It's just a way for them to distract themselves," Cadmus interjected, which brought all the compound eyes of Beelzebub to simultaneously stare at the reaper. The purple demon in the short robes continued for a moment, but eventually let out a short laugh.

"Quite right, quite right. Well, in any case, these councils are the best time to get some of the more...controversial deals underway. I don't have to wait for correspondence. Now, gentlemen, lady boy," Beelzebub said before turning to Sitri and bowing slightly, "I have to continue my pursuit of our friend, Purson. I'm not sure _why_ he thinks he can keep running away from me."

"What do you need from him?" Niccolo asked, which brought a smile from the purple demon.

"It's not what _I_ need, Niccolo, and you should know that. It's what _everyone else_ needs," the Lord of Flies said as he walked past them, finding his way along the crowds.

"Is he someone we need to worry about?" Cadmus asked Sitri in a low voice, which caused the three of them to move closer to each other. The hermaphrodite looked at Cadmus for the briefest moment before laughing.

"Beelzebub? Please, he has nothing to gain by the end of the world. He's far more interested in coin than anything else."

"What about Purson?" Niccolo asked, which made the shape-changing demon giggle for a moment before regaining her senses. When she turned to Niccolo, she had to wipe away a tear from her eye.

"Purson and Lucifer have always been great friends. He's a sneaky one, that's for sure," she said before looking over the crowds of demons to find Purson backed into a corner with Beelzebub offering him no retreat, "but he wouldn't turn against the Devil, now. Purson was one of the first Fallen to join Lucifer's rebellion."

"I thought all of the kings were big supporters," Niccolo said before scanning the hall for suspicious characters. Some people he definitely recognized from the different Quarters of Dis, but there were quite a few strangers. After a moment, his eye wandered to a behemoth in brown robes standing at the other end of the hall. The creature was hunched over, but Niccolo could tell that it was at least fifteen feet tall. What bothered Niccolo was the massive, three foot long mask that seemed to be directed toward him.

"Some," Sitri said as she started to walk through the crowd, guiding them past gaudy demons immersed in conversation, "but some joined because they didn't want to be on the losing side of a war."

"And some of them regret that, now," Cadmus said, which brought a coy smile from their guide.

"Oh, Cadmus, I'm glad you're here. It's so much easier than explaining everything to Nico," she purred, but the leper merely rolled his eyes.

"So do you know which people we need to keep an eye on?" Niccolo asked, almost bumping into a fat little demon on stilts and only halting for a moment to excuse himself. His eye kept falling on the huge creature at the end of the hall, the massive mask seemed to follow his movement. It was painted gold with a blue cross going through the middle, but now that Niccolo was getting closer, he could see the blue orbs burning in the dark space cut out for its eyes.

"Certain members of court will likely follow the kings of their province, and of course we need to worry about the men they brought with them," Sitri said before smiling at a waiter and accepting three glasses of wine from his tray. She then turned around and shoved two of the glasses into the hands of her students, and then motioned from them to huddle around her. "Now, short history lesson."

"Over there," she said before pointing at Beleth, "is Beleth. He was one of the strongest of Adonai's sons and could really only be matched by our Lucifer. If we're looking for major threats who could kill Lucifer, he would be one of our suspects," she mentioned, smiling the entire time and watching the demons surrounding them. Luckily, the constant conversations were enough to drown out any words from more than a few feet away.

"We've met him. Killed one of his own men in front of us. He doesn't seem nice and cuddly," Niccolo whispered, but he kept his eye on the mask at the end of the hall. The creature had started to stand up, which made Niccolo turn back to his companions for the moment. He did not want the thing to notice him noticing it.

"He's certainly not that, and he does _not_ have a soft spot for humanity, but he's also fairly high profile. It seems unlikely that he would want to turn demons feral or cause the end of the world. If he hates anyone more than Lucifer, it's probably Adonai."

"That doesn't remove his threat," Cadmus said, which caused Sitri to nod almost imperceptibly.

"True enough. Now they," she said before turning to point behind them, "are Zagan and Balam."

"We met Zagan outside. Already a fan," Niccolo said, but his gaze was on the other demon that Zagan was hugging around the shoulder. The demon was just as large as the bull-headed King, if not larger, but his appearance was disconcerting. His head was a combination of a grizzly bear and a ram; he had large, black horns spiraling out from his head and his teeth were that of a goat, but almost everything else about his face was that of a bear. The rest of his body was more of the same. Although he had the muscles and paws of a bear, the rest of him seemed more suited to a goat, with knobby joints and tufts of hair in odd places.

"Zagan is certainly one of the well-liked kings and he makes sure his subjects are happy, drunk or both. He does what he can to make Hell more enjoyable," Sitri explained, but she continued to stare at the king trapped under Zagan's arm. "Balam, however, is one of the least-liked, and I have no doubt Zagan's making fun of him for that right now."

"Why is he so unlikeable?" Niccolo asked, which caused the hermaphrodite to let out a bitter laugh.

"Just spend five minutes with him. But, really, it comes down to the fact that he's completely stubborn and hard-headed. He always thinks he's right," she said, which caused Cadmus to clink his wine glass against the one in Niccolo's hand.

"Be careful, that could be your future," he warned, but Sitri just shook her head before continuing.

"Well, the key difference is that Balam is almost _never_ right. He's the only king who was almost replaced because of his stupidity. If he's part of this little cult, he's not going to be a leader, but I wouldn't bet against his membership. He loves being part animal," she said before nodding away from the two kings and heading toward the other end of the hall.

"How is he still a king if he's that stupid?" Niccolo asked, which made Sitri look at him with disapproval before rushing up to him and whispering in his ear.

"Lower your voice while we're moving. We don't know who's listening," she said before drawing back and leading them to a somewhat empty space on the right side of the hall. "To answer your question, some demons are just _that_ strong. The only demons who could hope to oust Balam are the other kings and _trust me_ ," she said before waving around her wine glass. "None of them want another ounce of responsibility."

"Seems to be a pretty common trait," Cadmus observed, which made Sitri cross her arms.

"Lucifer's carrying the guilt of leading his followers into Hell. _That's_ what claiming responsibility does to you. Now that, over there," she said before pointing down a few groups of people, but Niccolo did not get a chance to hear the rest of her explanation. He felt a hand on his left shoulder, which quickly spun him around.

"Nico! So glad you could get here before the council!" Paimon almost screamed as she brought him into her embrace. The Horseman was barely able to react and brought his free arm around her, his thoughts scattered as the king held him tight. Although he remembered her vacant, white eyes and how powerful she could be, Niccolo could still feel his heart pumping faster as Paimon pressed her curves against his body. Then, as soon as their embrace had started, Paimon pushed him away and then looked over his shoulder at Sitri and Cadmus.

"Let me borrow him for a moment, you two! I want Niccolo to meet some of the others," she said before forcing her arm around his and dragging him away from his friends. He looked over his shoulder to wordlessly give an excuse, but he could tell they understood. There was not much Niccolo could do against a King of Hell.

As they walked down the Reception Hall, Niccolo felt like he was being watched. He looked to where he had last seen the brown robes and gold mask and found that the creature had abandoned its position. For a moment he wondered if he had seen the Shroud, but Paimon turned to him and distracted Niccolo from his thoughts.

"You're going to love these two. They are my favorite brothers, though Amdusias can be a little stoic," she said loudly, but then she brought her face closer to his ear and, still smiling, continued at a lower volume. "And they might be able to help in our little counter-plan."

"What?" he asked, but Paimon just looked at him with a seductive smile, the vacant eyes not nearly as off-putting as usual.

"Don't think I'm a fool, Nico. Scratch and I go way back and I don't want to see him dead. I mean," she said before bringing up her delicate hands and showing him crimson nails, which seemed to extend for a moment, "where do you think he got the name?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but the gold woman just laughed softly as she brought him toward a pair of armored fallen drinking wine by the western wall.

"Good boy, that's what I wanted to hear. Now, I want you to meet two of my dearest friends. Niccolo, this is Amdusias, and this is Asmodeus," Paimon said as she motioned to each demon in turn. Niccolo was at first marveling at Amdusias' long, white hair which was braided and fell against the back of his white armor, but soon was confronted by the demon's stern expression. Almost every part of the man's face seemed hewn from marble, he wore a perpetual scowl and his cheekbones seemed like they could cut through his skin with the slightest amount of pressure. His pale blue eyes did nothing to comfort Niccolo and it took him a moment to react to the fallen angel's attention.

"You're scaring him, brother. What have we told you about staring?" a kind voice issued from the other king, breaking Niccolo out of his daze. He turned to the fallen and found that his face looked exactly the same except for the warm smile greeting him. Looking him over, Niccolo found that this king's green hair was much shorter and his armor was colored forest green, making him seem much more pleasant. Then Niccolo saw the fallen's hands and noticed the golden scales which covered them, ending with vicious, yellow claws.

"I'm merely looking at the Horseman, brother," the white-haired demon said lazily before taking a drink from his cup. He then turned to Paimon, who had wrapped her arms around Niccolo's diseased limb, not bothered in the slightest by its appearance. "This is Lucifer's favorite?"

"Well, he doesn't have much to choose from," Paimon said before turning to smile at Niccolo, "but I can see why. If he ever bothers to open his mouth, you'll be able to tell."

"I..." Niccolo started, unable to think up anything to say to these two demons. He had heard stories about the twin warriors, the angels who had been influential during Lucifer's rebellion. Other than Astaroth and Lucifer himself, there were not many who could claim to be equals to their skills.

"Oh, what a special, intelligent boy," Amdusias said sarcastically after a long moment, turning to his brother with skepticism.

"Hey," Niccolo said, slipping his arm out of Paimon's grasp and finding his courage. "I dare you to find a mortal who could meet the Twins and not be slightly intimidated. Take it as a compliment," he finished before crossing his arms and meeting Amdusias' gaze. The fallen angel sighed before looking into his wine.

"I take it back, he's certainly special," he said before lifting the glass to his lips. Asmodeus clinked the glass with his own, almost sloshing wine onto his brother.

"A toast to Lucifer's favorite," Asmodeus said before lifting his glass, his brother grunting before taking a sip of wine.

"Did you _have_ to do that?"

"No," Asmodeus said before giving a mischievous smile and turning to Niccolo and winking, "but it felt appropriate. So, Nico, where did you come from?"

"The Pestilence Quarter," he responded, but Asmodeus just cocked his head to the side.

"Obviously, kid. I'm talking about on Earth. Where did you call home?" he asked, squaring up to Niccolo and crossing his arms, holding his wine glass with his left hand. Niccolo forced himself not to shift his weight in his awkwardness, and tried to ignore the female demon who was staring at him.

"Firenze, in Italia. I spent a few years in Napoli, but Firenze was where I was born and... died," he said, drawing a nod from Asmodeus.

"Nice area, if I recall. It's been a while, though."

"When were you ever in Italy?" Amdusias asked from his side, his voice filled with skepticism. His brother turned and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"I got summoned there a few centuries back, remember? I've _told_ you this," he said before looking at Niccolo with a shrug. "His memory is a little off."

"You...you've been back to Earth?" Niccolo asked, his stubbornness forgotten at the prospect of returning. The twin demons just looked at him in confusion.

"Well, yeah, most of the kings have at some point. A few humans got hold of some spells and rituals and found out that they can summon some _otherworldly_ _beings_. Kinda rude when it happens, but it's almost...nice," Asmodeus said with a slight laugh. "It's a little sad, but we can see the world we were fighting for."

"I didn't know that we could get back there before the Apocalypse," Niccolo muttered absent-mindedly, but Asmodeus put out his hand to stop him from his thoughts.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, kid. Humans who are able to summon demons are few and far between, and they have to know the name of who they're trying to summon. Plus, we get sent back in a couple hours, max, and the whole time we're basically, well, shades," the demon king said before shrugging. "It's not worth thinking about."

"Oh," Niccolo said before looking down at the ground, but then he felt a warm, soft hand intertwining its fingers with the claws of his left arm. He turned to find Paimon giving him a sad smile.

"Don't worry, hon. You're a Horseman. You'll be up there soon enough," she said reassuringly before turning to face the twins. "Why did you have to do that?"

"I didn't mean to," Asmodeus started, but Amdusias breathed out heavily before glaring into her vacant eyes.

"What does it matter to us what a human feels?" he asked with annoyance, but almost immediately his brother slapped him on the shoulder.

"What should it matter to them how _we_ feel, Ammy? Treat others how you want to be treated, remember?" Asmodeus scolded, but Niccolo stepped forward and put out his hands in a show of mediation.

"It's alright, really," Niccolo started, first looking at Asmodeus and then turning to his twin. "I don't expect either of you to give me respect; I haven't done anything to earn it. Besides, there are more important issues to worry about. I don't know what you've heard," Niccolo said before lowering his hands, wondering if he was doing the right thing, "but my feelings won't be worth a damn if the Shroud has his way."

Upon mention of the cloaked figure, both twins stood straight up and looked at the Horseman with alarm. Even Paimon let out a small squeak as Niccolo laid all the cards on the proverbial table. Amdusias was the first to break the silence, stepping forward and looking down at Niccolo's face with his stern expression.

"You'll have to forgive me, Horseman. I'm not used to being shocked by what a human says," he said before grunting. "I can see why Lucifer has such a fondness for you."

"Because I'm an idiot and stubborn," Niccolo suggested, already tired of the constant criticism, but Amdusias shook his head at the comment.

"While that remains to be seen, I was actually referring to your...nature. To say you remind me of our dear brother would be an understatement," he said before stepping back and taking another sip from his glass. "You could choose your words better, Niccolo, but your heart seems in the right place."

"How much do you know?" Asmodeus asked, the smile absent from his face. Niccolo turned to look at the demon king and shrugged.

"Not nearly as much as I would like to. I know he's turning demons feral, even the Fallen. Cadmus and I had to kill Valefor and Räum yesterday, and what we've seen from their memories is not exactly comforting," he explained, the twins taking in each statement with a small nod.

"Andras went feral during the night, as well, although he was just a human," Paimon added, which made Niccolo bite his lip.

"That was _worse_ , actually. He was the one who led us to Astaroth, so that means the Shroud, whoever he is, knows that Cadmus and I are looking for him," he admitted, which brought a long sigh from the white-haired demon.

"And now you're talking to us," Asmodeus said before adopting a fake smile and nodding toward a passing demon. "How fantastic."

"To be fair, I've been talking to a great deal of demons here today, so as long as we keep our voices down, we should be fine," Niccolo suggested, which made Paimon purr in delight.

" _Oh_ , he's not as foolish as he looks," she said before tracing her nails along his ruined arm. Niccolo wondered why she was not bothered by the mutilated skin. "You better talk to some random demons, then."

"I plan to," Niccolo said before looking at each of the kings, forgetting that he was a human in the midst of angels. "Now, I need to get back to my friends..."

"Since when do you have friends?" a nasal voice broke through the din of court, its owner making himself visible just a few yards away from him. Mammon proudly walked forward, a drink in each hand, and stopped in an empty space within their circle. "News to me, Nico."

"Hello, Mammon," Paimon said, trying to keep a smile on her face, but the twins were not so hospitable, each of them crossing their arms.

"Hellborn," Asmodeus spat out, his friendliness toward Niccolo completely absent when dealing with the short, yellow demon.

"Ugh, they invited _you_ to this thing? They should have known you'd be a party pooper," Mammon said before lifting the glass in his left hand and draining it in one gulp. "I'll tell them for next time."

"How about you go to the corner and pretend you don't exist, Hellborn," Amdusias added, looking down on Lucifer's son. "At least then we would be able to get on with our lives."

"You're so cruel, Frosty!" he shouted, throwing the empty glass to the floor and then pointing at the fallen angel. "And to think you'd be so mean to the son of _the_ _Devil_." The statement brought a scoff from the demon in the white armor.

"You might have come from his seed, Hellborn, but you inherited none of him. You're a monster and would be better off dead. This boy here," he said before waving at Niccolo, "is more Lucifer's son than you will ever be."

Mammon's smile disappeared at Amdusias' insult and all of the demons around them stopped their conversations, turning to see what the Hellborn would do. His eyes narrowing as much as they could, Mammon breathed in and out heavily for a moment, but then he brought up his full glass and took a sip of the red liquid, bringing it back down before sniffing loudly.

"Then Lucifer must be a terrible fighter. I would have killed this guy yesterday if not for Eligos," he said before letting a cruel smile stretch across his face. "Remember that, _Nico_? Remember when I held you above my seven heads and was about to swallow you whole?" Niccolo's mind was filled with fury and he was about to rush the little demon before Asmodeus surprised him.

"You have no _decency_ ," the fallen said before stepping forward and standing over the yellow demon. "Just a monster. I can't believe you came from my sister's womb."

"Why? Am I not dead sexy?" Mammon asked, contorting his body into a pose extending his belly, but he was slapped for the effort. Paimon had stepped forward and was breathing heavily, her lips pulled back to show pointed teeth and the nails of her left hand extending to knives.

"You insult the memory of Lilith _again_ , Hellborn, and you will regret it. _Leave us_ ," she threatened, her eyes almost popping out of her skull. In the moment, Niccolo almost forgot the gorgeous Paimon who had just been wrapped around his arm. The statement had its necessary effect, as Mammon backed away from the demon kings before scrabbling up from the floor and dusting himself off. In his retreat, Mammon regained some of his confidence, but most onlookers knew he was just saving face.

"Fine, you bitch. I'll leave. But all of you," he said before pointing his index finger at each fallen angel, "are on my shit list," Mammon concluded before staring at Niccolo. "You're on my double shit list. Because I feel like it," he said before turning and walking through the crowd, which parted before him.

"So much for laying low," Niccolo muttered as conversation resumed in each group of demons. The three kings turned back to him and seemed shamed by the confrontation.

"I should have killed him," Asmodeus said, but his brother grunted before setting his arm on the demon's shoulder.

"He should never have been born, brother, but he's the least of our worries."

"That's right," Paimon said before turning back into her old self and looking at the Horseman. "Find Sitri and Cadmus, Nico, we'll do our kingly duties," she urged before turning, but Niccolo realized he needed to ask them one more question.

"Wait," he started, bringing the stares of three very powerful demons. "There's been this demon watching me and I don't recognize him. Maybe he came from one of your provinces?"

"What demon?" Amdusias asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't see him now," Niccolo said as he looked over the shoulder of the nearby demons, "but he was pretty big and was covered in brown robes. He also had this gold mask with a blue cross on it," he continued, struggling to come up with more description, but it was unnecessary.

"The Leviathan," Asmodeus muttered, worry playing through the lines of his face.

"Yeah, who is he?" Niccolo asked, which made each king pause as they considered his words. Just that was enough for Niccolo to know it was not some normal demon.

"He's," Paimon started, "he's old. And we're not..."

"Be _careful_ with him," Amdusias said, his voice low so that others would not hear, "he comes to these councils as a sort of precaution."

"He's here in case of any of us start a fight," Asmodeus added while scratching the back of his neck with his claws, causing Niccolo to look at them in confusion.

"Wait, but you're all kings," he started, but Paimon bit her lip before interrupting him.

"And he makes _us_ scared, Nico. Just stay away from him," she said before turning and walking toward another group of demons, exclaiming how wonderful it was to see them. The twins stood in their place for a moment before walking in the other direction, silent after their conversation. Suddenly Niccolo was alone in a room full of demons.

Niccolo stared after them, trying to consider this new information. He had never heard of this Leviathan character, and now it seemed that he was a boogeyman. As he remembered the demon's blue eyes under the mask, he felt they were staring at him even now. Niccolo shuddered at the thought, but eventually turned his attention to finding Cadmus and Sitri. He needed to know what the hermaphrodite would say about the rest of the kings.

The Horsemen spent the next few minutes working his way through the crowd, greeting the demons he knew and trying to avoid eye contact with the ones he did not. After their confrontation with Mammon, it was necessary for it to seem like Niccolo was just having random conversations with the demons at court. He was almost grateful to be waylaid by a small demon who looked like a thrush, though he could not remember the creature's name for the life of him.

As the bird continued to have their one-sided conversation, Niccolo looked around the room for his friends and found something else entirely. Beelzebub had apparently finished his negotiations with Purson and was talking to Amon in the center of the hall. The only reason it grabbed the Horseman's attention was that the raven was not looking at the Lord of Flies. He was just staring at Niccolo the entire time. It was unnerving, but after a few moments Amon turned back to Beelzebub, freeing Niccolo's attention.

Unceremoniously, Niccolo excused himself from his tacit conversation and then started working through the crowd once more. He wandered for a few more minutes before realizing that he might have an easier time spotting them from the corner. As he made his way over to the nearest corner, Niccolo was finally able to spy the top of Cadmus' scythe just a few yards away from him. Breathing a sigh of relief, Niccolo started toward his friend but was interrupted by a hand with one too many fingers on his right shoulder. When he turned to face its owner, it became difficult for him to keep his composure.

The massive gold mask with a blue cross dominated his field of vision, tilted slightly so the creature's right eye was peering down on him. He looked over the creature and realized it was still hunched over, its mask just a few inches above him.

"You're the new Horseman," the creature said, two voices echoing against each other. One was a high whisper and the other a deep rumble. Niccolo wondered what kind of angel or demon would have chosen this form.

"Y-yeah, that's right," Niccolo responded, unable to stop himself from stammering. He gathered his courage and tried to strand up as straight as possible. "You're the Leviathan, right?" At the question, the creature reared back and then turned, beckoning for Niccolo to follow him with his left hand. Or, at least, it seemed like his left hand. Now that Niccolo could see the creature up close, he realized that it was not _just_ a hand. In fact, it seemed like something else entirely, what fingers it had were wrapped around each other.

"That is the name I have been given," it said cryptically, its voices bouncing off of each other. Niccolo walked after the creature, seeing the folds of its brown robes falling around impossible anatomy that Niccolo could only guess at. He was not the only one bothered by the sight of the Leviathan. All of the demons ahead of them scattered at the Leviathan's approach, looking at Niccolo in horror. It forced him to wonder exactly what this thing was.

"Do you not like your name? People change their names all the time down here. Why don't you choose another?" Niccolo asked, trying to keep the conversation light. The creature did not bother to answer until they reached a corner of the Reception Hall which was completely devoid of other creatures. Then the Leviathan turned and seemed to slump into itself, its robes falling around it.

"I have never thought to change it. My name means nothing to me. It is only what the world wishes to call me. Why should I care what letters and syllables are used for my reference?" it asked, staring into Niccolo with its blazing eyes. Feeling awkward, Niccolo shoved his thumbs under his belt and then shifted his weight to his right leg.

"Some people feel pride in their names," he offered, which caused the creature to tilt its mask to the right slightly.

"What a strange thing to feel pride in," it commented, drawing into itself. Before it did, Niccolo noticed that its feet were not feet, but the same kind of appendage he had seen in the Leviathan's sleeve.

"People are strange, Leviathan," Niccolo said before taking out his thumbs from his belt and then crossing his arms. He wondered why this gigantic creature wanted to talk to him.

"You included, Horseman," it said, its twin voices trading places in levels of volume.

"You think I'm strange?" Niccolo asked, trying to maintain eye contact but finding it difficult. Even while sitting, the Leviathan leaned forward and towered over the former human.

"I know it, Niccolo. For such a young soul, you have quite the list of enemies," it mentioned, making Niccolo stare at him with suspicion.

"What do you know about my enemies?" he asked, almost demanding answers from the terrifying creature. The Leviathan just brought its mask within a foot of Niccolo's rotten face.

"More than you, it seems. They surround you. And you drink and smile just like the rest of them," it mentioned, at times the whisper becoming dominant over the deep rumble. "I don't understand."

"If you know my enemies, tell me," Niccolo commanded, his fear gone now that the Leviathan had admitted to his knowledge.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know."

"Why?"

"If I know, then I can save Scr...Lucifer," he explained, wondering why the creature was being difficult.

"Should Lucifer be saved?" it asked, the golden mask tilting to the right in its confusion. The genuine question shocked Niccolo.

"Y-yes! He's the ruler of Hell. He's what's keeping it together!" he urged, not caring if anybody could overhear him. The Leviathan had created enough of an empty space that there could not be any spies around.

" _Should_ it be kept together?" the creature asked, the deep rumble now dominant. Niccolo shook his head in confusion and scratched at his right eyebrow.

"Of...of course! Otherwise there will be feral demons everywhere, there will be chaos!"

"What is wrong with chaos?" it asked, its mask drawing back toward the rest of its body. Niccolo followed, his mind so preoccupied he had completely abandoned his fear of the monstrous thing.

"I...he _can't_ die," he said, not bothering to continue the argument. The Leviathan grunted, which caused Niccolo to look back up into the gold and blue mask. The blue flames seemed to be regarding him with understanding.

"You do not want Lucifer to die because he is important."

"Yes, he's important," Niccolo agreed, which brought a nod from the massive creature.

"I understand. You do not want him to die because he is important," it repeated, seeming to wrap the concept around its infantile mind.

"Right," Niccolo said, nodding at the same time. The creature then extended its neck and the mask forward again, dominating Niccolo's vision once more.

"Perhaps he needs to die _because_ he is important."

"That's insane!" Niccolo shouted, his fingers closing into fists. With absolutely no regard to who might be listening, he shouted again. "Without Lucifer, there's no Hell!"

"Perhaps _that_ is best," the Leviathan said, his eyes growing within the dark pits of his mask. Niccolo wanted to punch the creature and kill it for saying such a thing, but before he could raise his fists, a clear voice broke through the reception hall.

"Niccolo!" Lucifer shouted, making Niccolo turn to find him by the nearby entrance. The fallen angel did not look pleased.

"Scratch," Niccolo muttered, breaking eye contact with the Devil to find that every demon in the hall was staring straight at him. Cadmus and Sitri were at the edge of the crowd, but Niccolo's eyes stayed on them for only a moment before he turned back to Lucifer.

"Come with me. _Now_ ," he commanded before turning back to the doorway. Niccolo suddenly felt the weight of everyone's stares and realized he had made quite the scene.

"You should go, Horseman. I am sure we will speak again," the twin voices suggested behind him. Niccolo turned to see that the mask was tilted slightly and that the shining, blue eyes were slightly closed. It took a moment for Niccolo to realize the creature was smiling.

"Now go on," the Leviathan said before waving Niccolo forward with his left arm. With the motion, Niccolo was finally able to see that the Leviathan's limb was actually two arms coiled around each other, which was made all the more disconcerting when the creature picked itself up and walked past him, looking over its shoulder with his eyes shining malevolently inside its mask. Niccolo could see why the kings might be scared of such a creature.

After all, he was terrified.

# Chapter 10: Past - Natural Born Killer

Niccolo sprinted across the rooftop, his hair pulled back and tied so it would not get in his eyes. He was doing his best to mitigate the sound coming from his feet against the clay roof, wearing shoes with thin, worn-in soles, but he still made a small amount of noise as he neared his prey. The man in front of him turned slightly upon his approach, but Niccolo was not worried. The tearing of leather and flesh was followed by a short blade bursting through the guard's chest, his own blood shining in the moonlight. Niccolo used his left arm to push the man's body forward, withdrawing the blade before bringing it across the man's throat, silencing him and quickening his death. The young assassin could not afford to let the man sound an alarm.

As soon as the man's throat had been torn open, Niccolo was already on the move, leaping along the small houses that lined the street. He could not risk being spotted during this mission; the official he was hunting was far too cautious and would fly at the first sign of danger. So Niccolo continued running along the rooftops toward the next guard, who was smoking an ornate pipe he had probably stolen from his employer. Niccolo smiled as the guard continued to breathe in the rich smoke; it was a suitable distraction for his work. Coming to a slow crawl, Niccolo tried to approach the guard with as little noise as possible.

The guard had taken a deep drag from the wooden piece while Niccolo was sneaking toward him, and it ended up being far too much him to handle. He broke into a cough, which, if there had been a guard close enough to hear it, would have brought undue attention to Niccolo's position. Instead, the guard's breathing trouble caused him to turn and find Niccolo creeping toward him. Cursing under his breath, Niccolo rushed toward the man with his short blade in his right hand. The guard fumbled his spear for a moment, but eventually brought it forward to deal with the oncoming threat.

When the man thrust his spear toward Niccolo's position, he did not expect the bundle of grey and brown clothing to twist sideways and then grab the shaft of the weapon, rendering it useless. The guard struggled for a moment before seeing the bright flash of reflected moonlight and panicked, bringing up his left arm to ward off the incoming strike. Blood burst from his arm as Niccolo's blade sank down to the bone and became stuck in the notch it made, causing the man's face to fill with terror and pain.

The assassin cursed again, as he could not remove his blade easily, and found that the man was still fighting for control over the spear. They stood there for a moment, locked in each other's embrace, before the guard finally realized he was not entirely alone on these rooftops.

"Help! Assassin!" the guard shouted before dropping his spear and throwing his fist toward Niccolo's face. The leper dodged the blow and leapt backward, releasing his grip over the blade still moored in the guard's body.

_If you could just handle your tobacco,_ Niccolo thought as he took one of the small blades on the strap crossing his chest and held it deftly in the fingers of his right hand. He could see the anger and pain on the guard's expression as he tried to take Niccolo's blade out of his arm, but Niccolo was not going to let the man delay this any longer. The assassin threw his arm out in a horizontal arc, sending the small blade from his hand into the guard's throat and causing visible confusion on his face. When the man's body tumbled to the side, Niccolo cursed yet again, as he took Niccolo's weapons with him.

Niccolo ran forward and could see the lights flaring up all around the complex, which made him wonder how he was going to complete this mission. When he reached the next rooftop, he stared at the home of the official he was supposed to kill. He was a Norman, one of the thugs brought in to control Napoli, and just that was enough to earn death at the hand of Innocenti and his friends. Thankfully, his guards were all from the same region and easily recognizable, so the young assassin only had to watch the complex for any men from the North. As he waited, Niccolo brought the bow from his back and strung it before plucking it once, watching the tension dance along the cord.

It was not long before some of the Norman's thugs had ventured out of the building, holding lanterns and spears in order to find and kill the mysterious assassin. Niccolo gave a half-smile at that before grabbing a barbed arrow from the quiver on his back.

"Come out, you Italian bastard!" one of the guards shouted, which caused Niccolo to shake his head. Anybody who would take up that offer had no business being a hired killer. Instead he watched, waiting for the official to make his escape.

He was rewarded for his patience by seeing light playing along the bricks behind the house, which had to be the Norman official fleeing from the scene. Niccolo sighed before aiming at the vocal guard and sending an arrow toward him. Because of the strength of the bow, the arrow punctured the man's chest plate and went through him, ending any possibility of future threats. Niccolo then picked himself up and ran back the way that he had come, drawing another arrow from his quiver as he did. Almost as an afterthought as he was running, Niccolo drew back the string and then let the arrow fly to its mark, bursting through the other man's gleaming helm.

Over the last few years, Niccolo had become quite skilled with the bow and arrow, being able to hit targets while running or even on horseback. An assassin who used only short-ranged weapons would not live very long. For that, Niccolo was grateful for Innocenti's tutelage. As he ran back along the rooftops and slung the bow over his back, trying to determine a route which would bring him to the escaping Norman, Niccolo thought about how difficult things would have been without the scheming merchant's education.

The skin around his eye itched, but Niccolo tried to ignore the useless thing. It had only been a year after his arrival in Napoli when the leprosy had taken his eye from him. It was still there underneath it all, but the skin around it had become so inflamed and mutilated that it had covered the eye. Niccolo had tried cutting the skin away, but that had only left scar tissue and the blight had crept in again. After a while it did not bother him, as he had learned how to aim his bow without depth perception, and eventually he had moved on.

That was what Napoli had been for him. It had been his way to move on.

Niccolo sprinted along the rooftops of the street and realized he would never catch up to the Norman if he stayed on this path; it was likely that the official had horses in a nearby stable. So, when he saw a stack of crates on the side of the street, Niccolo jumped down and continued his pursuit along the mud and filth. At this time of night the streets were deserted, so he did not have to worry about running through any crowds. When he found a cross street, Niccolo ducked inside and continued sprinting, determined to cut off the Norman's escape.

Niccolo burst onto the parallel street and found that the lanterns had gathered around a stable thirty yards to his right. Not bothering to curse, the young assassin continued to run toward his prey, his breath measured and exact. One of the first things Innocenti had done was force Niccolo through a brutal course of calisthenics designed to improve his stamina. Niccolo thanked his master wordlessly as he brought out the special knife he had prepared for the Norman, the distance between him and the stables decreasing rapidly.

"He's still out there! Get him!" he heard a man shout in a frightened voice, but Niccolo did not need to know he was considered a threat. Niccolo was within a few yards of the stables when three riders burst out, one of the smaller horses rearing as it noticed Niccolo approaching them.

"That's him! It has to be!" one of the guards shouted, but Niccolo was not looking at him. He was looking at the Norman official, his evening dress complemented by a cloak which had been hastily thrown on him. Niccolo did not have a chance to draw his bow like this, he did not have a chance to sneak forward and kill his prey.

Instead, he leapt forward and sank his short blade into the man's thigh, the closest thing he could reach. He was rewarded with the Norman's scream and a swift boot to his face, but he could not care less about the strike; he had done his work. Niccolo turned around, still dazed from the blow, and tried to run as fast as he could the other way.

"G-get him!" the Norman screamed, already slapping the reins of his horse and making it gallop away from his attacker. At least, that's what Niccolo assumed; he did not have the time to watch. He steeled his nerves and took off into a sprint once more, trying to make it to the cross street he had used previously. The assassin was within a few yards of the street when he heard the galloping hooves of the two horses in pursuit, so he dived to the right, hoping the guards would not anticipate the movement.

He felt something strike his back and heard the grinding of metal against metal followed by the snap of wood. Niccolo rolled along the ground with the extra momentum, but as soon as he was able, he jumped to his feet. The two horses were ten yards in front of him, having to expend their momentum before they could turn to make another pass at him, but Niccolo knew he was in a terrible position. His bow had been broken and was lying in pieces in front of him; both of his blades were buried in his victims. While he was grateful his armor had saved his life, he knew that armor would not be able to stop two determined horsemen.

Niccolo ran forward, causing the mounted guards to spur their horses toward him, and wondered if he had enough skill to pull off the plan in his head. The two guards were yelling and held their swords by their side, ready to cut Niccolo off at the neck, but he tried to ignore that; he was looking at their mounts.

As the guards brought their blades down, Niccolo leapt to the left side and threw his arm forward, the broken shaft of a barbed arrow clenched in his right fist. He only just avoided the blade of the man on his left, coming within inches of death, but Niccolo needed to level the playing field. The assassin slammed his hand into the side of the left rider's horse and kept hold of the shaft as he fell. Though it broke after just a split-second, it had the desired effect; the horse's front leg tore open as the barb ripped open its muscles, causing the creature to falter.

Niccolo slammed into the ground and skidded from the momentum, but he flipped over and then scrambled to his feet to find that the first horse had fallen toward the side of the building and then overcompensated, careening into the other horse and sending them both to the ground in a heap of flesh. Niccolo heard the creatures cry in anguish and felt guilty, but their misery was absolutely vital to his continued survival. He ran forward, feeling a sharp pain in his left knee which meant it would be useless the next day, and brought another arrow out of his quiver. One of the men was pinned underneath his horse, groaning along with the two mangled creatures, but the other was shakily getting to his feet.

The guard did not have a chance to do much more than that; Niccolo was on top of him within the moment, his hand already plunging toward the man's throat with an arrow held in his fingers. The man gurgled in protest, but Niccolo did not have the option to leave him alive. He brought the arrow back out, skin and blood coming out in a grisly display as the barbs did their work, and then pushed it up through the bottom of the guard's jaw and sunk it deep within the man's brain.

Niccolo breathed out shakily as he saw the life leave the guard's blue eyes and felt the guilt tearing away at him again. This man had done nothing to him. He did not deserve to die; he just had a different employer. Then Niccolo remembered that he did not have a choice, either; God had made him this way. He was to serve as an example to other men.

Niccolo picked up the iron sword lying nearby and then walked over to the other guard, who was moaning in pain. Even if Niccolo was not already been obligated to remove any witnesses, he still would have provided mercy for this soldier, as his lower half was completely crushed. Niccolo beheaded the man before turning to the squealing horses, their legs a mess of broken bones and torn skin. He cut their throats as well, hoping to provide an end to their pain, and then took off into the cross street.

The young assassin fought off the tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes, trying to justify his behavior, but he could not hold out for long. Out of his ruined eye, a single tear fell down the blight covering the left side of his face, which had become mostly numb from the disease on his skin. He pretended he could not feel it, that he was past caring about the people he killed. Niccolo tried to convince himself that his soul was just as horrific and ruined as his outward appearance. As he disappeared into the night, he tried to forget that he had been a merchant prince from Firenze.

For the rest of his life, he would only be a killer from Napoli.

***

Niccolo stood at the entrance of the catacombs and watched the fog of his breath dispersing in the air. In the last few hours, the air had become chilly, causing Niccolo to feel fortunate that he was still bundled up in his gear. Innocenti sure knew how to make him appreciate the simple things.

He had only stopped by his room for a short while after his mission, taking time to readjust his sleeve of bandages. The spread of his illness had somehow stopped after coming to Napoli, Innocenti liked to say the air was better for Niccolo, so he really only had to deal with the ruined skin on his left side. It covered his entire arm, his fingers and shoulder, as well, and had continued down his chest to his ribcage. Of course, there was also the blight on his face, but it had miraculously stopped at that point. Niccolo lost an eye and he had to hide his arm for the rest of his life, but the sores had stopped seeping pus and blood. The only reason he needed to readjust his sleeve was because of the note that had been left on his desk.

Catacombs. We need to talk.

-

L.

So Niccolo wrapped up the loose bandages, gathered another set of short blades and his extra bow and quiver, and set back out into the night. In addition, he let down his hair to obscure his face; he did not need to keep it out of the way anymore. Niccolo did not bother to run along the rooftops and instead walked freely through the streets, confident no one would see him in the pre-dawn light. Besides, the Norman's complex was on the other side of the city; no one would be looking for him on these dark streets.

It was a half-hour of walking to the catacombs, which were placed outside the city; no one deliberately wanted to walk near corpses if they could help it. As a result, Lorenzo Innocenti would meet with his assassins and business partners there, out of sight of any spying eyes. He had even trained Niccolo in its depths, hoping to hone the young assassin's skills for blending into total darkness.

Now Niccolo was waiting for his master, feeling the cold air starting to sink beneath the layers of cloth and armor. He looked at his left hand, sheathed in a leather glove, and could feel the bumps and ridges of his skin rubbing against the material. Without meaning to, Niccolo started to think about when it had been perfect and smooth, when his life was still on the correct path. Immediately, Camilla's frustrated face came to his mind and he smiled before remembering the last time he had seen her. When Niccolo remembered Giovanni, his lip curled and the leather of his glove creaked as he clenched his fist.

"You have so much animosity," Innocenti's voice called out, causing Niccolo to remember that he had more pressing matters. His master was seated atop a mule, a mount beneath his station, but Niccolo was used to the merchant's behavior. Niccolo crossed his arms in front of him and shrugged.

"I do what I can to temper it these days. I do learn _some_ of your lessons," he said, trying to keep a light tone. He did not want to step on the merchant's toes, as Innocenti did not call meetings lightly.

"Some, but not all. You made quite the spectacle tonight," he said as he approached on the mule, stopping by the entrance of the catacombs before letting himself fall from the saddle. He turned his back to the assassin and went about tying the reins to a nearby post, but he continued the conversation. "You do know we are supposed to stay silent and unobserved, don't you, Niccolo?"

"No one knows it was me; no one saw me," the assassin explained, pacing around the entrance of the catacombs. "And the target should be dead. I used enough poison to kill a man twice his size."

"Oh, he's dead, though he was going on and on about a disfigured assassin," Innocenti said before turning back to his student and setting his hands on his belt.

"Impossible. He had less than a second to look at me," Niccolo said, his eye narrowing, but Lorenzo put out his hand to stop Niccolo's excuses.

"His assassin had snake fangs and three eyes; don't worry," Innocenti said with a smile before rummaging around in the bag by the mule's saddle. He brought out a lantern and went about lighting it. "But you were lucky the poison had a hallucinogenic effect."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again," Niccolo apologized, his head bowed as Innocenti made the lamp glow and then started toward the entrance to the catacombs.

"No harm done, Nico. Well, relatively," he said before beckoning for Niccolo to follow. "We _do_ have to do something about this Norman threat."

"Italia should belong to Italians, even if we're at war with each other," Niccolo said, which brought out a short laugh from his master.

"Ah, if only the Italians understood that, as well, my young friend. Now, come, I have a story for you," he said as he walked down the carved steps, ignoring the corpses as they went. Niccolo followed, not bothering to hold his nose. After so many years, the desiccated corpses were no threat to his senses.

"What story is this, Lorenzo?" Niccolo asked, wondering what sermon Innocenti had for him today. The merchant tsked him before continuing.

"You have a problem with authority others might not find agreeable, Niccolo. You are lucky that I feel such fondness for you," he said before taking a turn to the right, banishing the path ahead of Niccolo into darkness. The assassin did not know how Innocenti was able to find his way in the catacombs, but he assumed that the merchant had spent more than enough time to discover its secrets.

"That, and you feel such sympathy," Niccolo added, which made Lorenzo turn around with a smile.

"Not _that_ much, Niccolo, but I do have a sense of humor. And, well, sometimes you provide for that. However, that is all beside the point. I have a story for you."

"You said something like that," Niccolo agreed, but Innocenti ignored the statement, waving the lantern around the people in the catacombs.

"Do you ever wonder what role you play in this world, Niccolo?"

"I assume that I kill people for a living, but, well, that could be up in the air," Niccolo joked, causing his master to shake his head.

"Yes, but what does that _mean_ , Nico?"

"They had to be killed," Niccolo muttered, looking at the light dancing on all the bones they passed.

"For some purpose, yes. Just like all of these men died for a purpose," Lorenzo said as he waved around the lantern again, taking a left turn and walking down another set of stairs.

"Not to interrupt, master, but not all of them had purpose. Some people live for no reason, some people die for no reason," he said, remembering the angry face of the rooftop guard, the pain-filled cries of the horses he had just killed. Even that Sicilian merchant's face flashed through his mind.

"Some, of course. _Most_ , if we're going to be serious. But those who matter, those who _have_ purpose, it's clear for them. It's clear that something more important is meant for them."

"Innocenti," Niccolo interrupted, wiping his right eye with his hand; somehow dust had gotten into it. "If you're trying to assuage my guilt for killing the Norman..."

"Oh, why would I do _that_?" he asked, making Niccolo snap his attention back to Innocenti, who had stopped by an alcove that seemed to be decorated more than the usual grave. "I have no use for guilt."

"Then what is this lesson?" Niccolo asked, which made Innocenti smile before waving at the alcove, which held a number of objects and relics, but the skull in the center seemed to be the focus of the arrangement.

"Sometimes our purpose lies in something more than our lives. This man, here. He was a bishop in the early church. He was a martyr, having been beheaded in a very public spectacle. That glass right there," Innocenti said before pointing the lantern toward the ampoule by the skull, "is filled with his blood, which supposedly liquefies every year."

"Wait, this is..."

"Yes," Innocenti said before drawing back the lantern and holding it by his side. "This is Januarius, the so-called patron saint of Napoli."

"I'm sorry," Niccolo said, breaking his gaze from the skull in the alcove, "but why are you showing me this?"

"This man," Innocenti said before sighing, "was more useful _dead_ than alive. He was a bishop and quite popular, but when he was executed, Christianity spread, his influence spread along with word of his miracles."

"I don't see the point," Niccolo said as he shook his head, but Innocenti looked at him disapprovingly.

"You still have _one_ good eye, Nico," he said, drawing the glare of the assassin. "The point is that, although beloved by God, Januarius was forced to die in a horrific manner. His usefulness occurred after his death."

"I understand," Niccolo started, but Innocenti stamped his foot, forcing the assassin to swallow his words.

"Clearly, you don't. God had his plan, Nico, as horrible as it was. And this man was a saint! What I'm saying is that," he said before walking up to his student and placing his free hand on Niccolo's shoulder, "your...ailment, may not have been revenge."

"Are you kidding?" Niccolo asked, raising his eyebrow, but Innocenti shook his head.

"I went to a church the other day, Nico, for business, of course, but for the first time in a long time I decided to pray. No one spoke to me; I felt no sense of divinity. However, it became a time to reflect. Niccolo, without your help, without your abilities, the Normans would have complete control over this city."

"I fail to see how this," Niccolo said before removing his glove and exposing his ruined hand to the lantern's light, "is an example of God's love."

"Who said it had to be _love_ , Nico?" Innocenti asked, setting his lantern on the ground. "This is your _purpose_. Maybe in his...pragmatism, God gave you a gift in disguise. So many people, like the guards you killed tonight, like all of the men who were paid to be in your way, have no purpose. But you, with the training I gave you, with the resolve this plague has given you...Niccolo, you might not just change Italia. You might change the _world_ ," he urged, placing both of his hands on Niccolo's shoulders.

"That's a lot of _ifs_ and _mights_ , Lorenzo," Niccolo said, shaking off the merchant's hands and crossing his arms. "If God did this, I find it hard to believe that it was just to kill some people."

"My point with all of this, Niccolo," Innocenti said as he picked up his lantern and motioned toward the skull and relics, "is that during the present, it may be difficult to perceive your role in the world."

"I am no saint, Innocenti," Niccolo said, his gaze fixed on the face of the man who had trained him how to kill, who had sent him to kill others.

"I never said you _were_ , Nico, but God needs warriors, as well," Innocenti said before moving past Niccolo, turning before heading up the stairs. "Would it be so difficult to believe that all of this happened to you for a reason? That it's more than just a cruel god using you as a plaything?"

Niccolo did not answer the man, but instead followed Innocenti as he led them back up through the catacombs. Although the words sounded nice, Niccolo could not trust them. He did not want to believe that his purpose was to end the lives of others; that his "gift" was a rotten arm and carte blanche to kill God's enemies. God could kill them, himself.

However, as they made their way through the shadows, Innocenti's lesson started to give Niccolo some hope. No matter how many people he killed, at the very least he felt a numb pain in his heart. He did not _like_ to kill people; he just _had_ to. Innocenti had given him his purpose, and maybe some other, all-powerful God had given Innocenti that purpose. In a time and place of darkness, Niccolo had been given something very dangerous.

He had been given hope.

"Niccolo," Innocenti said as they came out of the catacombs, the sun peeking over the horizon and rendering their lantern useless. He put out the flame before setting the lantern inside the pack on his saddle, turning to face his student as he emerged from the darkness. "I want you to think about these words."

"Fine, I will," Niccolo said, but Innocenti walked forward and placed his hands on the assassin's shoulders once more.

"I'm going to give you some time to do it. There are no more assignments; no more people that you have to kill," he said, which threw Niccolo's mind into confusion.

"There's _always_ someone to kill."

"At this point, you have the option to choose, Niccolo. Your contract is up. You've spent four years in Napoli killing enemies of Italia, and my accounts as well," he said before raising his hands and interlacing his fingers before bringing them down in front of him. "You're free to go."

"I'm...free?" Niccolo asked, unaware of how much time he had given to Innocenti. It did not seem like four years since Innocenti had hired him in that church in Firenze; the very thought made Niccolo dizzy. He would have fallen if Lorenzo had not caught his arm.

"You are, but I want you to take my lesson to heart. In your current state, there's...not much you can do, Nico," Innocenti admitted before realizing that his associate could stand on his own and released his arm. "I want you to think about continuing to work for me."

"You want me to keep killing?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes. I want you to fulfill...your purpose," he said, placing emphasis on the words. "As a leper, as a beggar, you cannot affect the world. As an assassin, you could change its very course."

"There's no guarantee of that. And Lorenzo...it hurts," Niccolo admitted, finally relenting and letting his inner pain show. "Every death haunts me. I try to maintain my anger and resentment, I try to harden my heart, but I don't know if I can take it."

"I know, Nico. You think I don't notice?" Innocenti asked, drawing back and folding his hands over his hips. "But Niccolo, you have a strength of character that even _I_ did not notice. I thought you would be a good assassin, but Nico," Innocenti said before smiling and shaking his head, "with you on our side, the Normans don't have a chance."

"Why should I care about the Normans? Why should I care about Italia, Innocenti?" he shouted, unable to stop pacing in front of his former master. "They rejected me at the first chance; they threw me to the streets where I had to steal and murder just to live."

"All of that is true, I won't fight that."

"Then why should I give up my life to stop this invasion, Innocenti? Why should I throw everything away so that the people who rejected me might be able to have a little more coin in their pocket?"

"It's not just _coin_ , Nico," Innocenti said before walking up to his mule and then raising himself up to the saddle. "It's freedom. The freedom to live without those masters. It's the same freedom I'm offering you right now. You have the right to choose, and if you choose to continue in my service, perhaps we can give that freedom to others."

"And if I refuse?" Niccolo asked, which caused Niccolo to stare at the sun coming up over the horizon.

"That is your right, Nico, but why would you run away from the gift that has been given to you?" Innocenti asked before looking down at his student. "Think about it, Niccolo. Come back to me whenever you like, and I will welcome you with open arms."

"I..." Niccolo started before looking at the ground by the mule's hooves. "Where would I go, Lorenzo? Except for this life you have created for me, what do I have?" Innocenti turned to look out to the distant hills, not focusing on the city or the sun still rising in the sky.

"That is up to you, Niccolo. What _do_ you have?" Lorenzo asked before striking the mule's sides with his boots, causing the creature to amble away. Niccolo watched the man depart and pondered his words. Except for this life of killing and slinking about in the shadows, the leper did not have much. He stared at the hills on the horizon, hoping that perhaps Innocenti was giving him some clue.

That was when he remembered the smile of the girl in Firenze. That was when he remembered the woman who had given up her future for his wretched life.

Perhaps he still did have something, after all.

***

Firenze was almost exactly how he remembered it, with the only exception being the Ponte Vecchio. Carlo Vespucci had done a good job on it, the bridge was even more splendid than it had been before its destruction, but it brought Niccolo no joy. It only caused him to remember how he should have been part of it; it was just another part of the future torn from him.

He had tried to stay away from the Vespucci estate, at first, but it called to him. He had spent a few days on some of the neighboring rooftops, hiding in some of the closest corners and shadows. When he had first seen Allegra taking out her son for a walk, he had felt a blinding anger, but it had disappeared once he remembered that the child was an innocent. For that matter, Allegra held no blame either, and Niccolo still remembered the look on her face when Carlo banished him from their family. She had, at the very least, seemed sympathetic. He wondered if she would hold the same sympathy for him now.

After the third day, Niccolo finally saw his father talking with some of the other merchants. Although the Ponte Vecchio had provided the Vespucci estate with an enormous cash flow, it seemed that Carlo had squandered most of it. Now the family was in worse state than they had been in before Niccolo's absence. In some of the taverns, Niccolo had heard small talk and rumors about how Carlo had never been the same since his first son had died. Niccolo thought about how humorous it would be to proclaim he was Carlo's long lost son and that he was very much alive.

However, when he saw Carlo's face, saw the grey working into his hair and the desperation creasing permanent lines into his face, Niccolo did not have the heart. Though Carlo had destroyed him, it seemed that he had destroyed himself in the process. His father turned to look at him once, while he was passing by, but Niccolo turned away quickly and hid his face within the hood of his red cloak. Out of his periphery, he could have sworn he saw Carlo's expression change at the sight, but Niccolo continued to walk past his father without conversation; a stranger to the man who had raised him.

It was best if Carlo truly thought that he was dead.

So he had turned his attentions on Camilla and her husband. It did not take long for Niccolo to discover that Camilla's father had taken ill and died just two years after Niccolo's departure. Since Camilla had no other siblings, the Gherardini estate had been absorbed by her husband, Giovanni Simonetti. Now the noble had all the power he needed, but, of course, that would never be enough. He had already made moves to absorb the Vespucci estate, although Carlo refused due to his pride. It was just another reason to hate Simonetti, the man who had stolen the love of his life.

Niccolo watched them for a week, noting the habits of the Simonetti family and their bodyguards. Giovanni seemed to flaunt his wealth, walking along the merchants with disdain, putting certain stands out of business with the thugs he brought with him. It only took a moment for Niccolo to recognize those guards as the very men who had beaten him and allowed Giovanni to degrade him in front of an entire street of Fiorentini.

He thought about what it would be like to kill these men, to force them to recognize their worthlessness, but he maintained a cool head while he watched them. For the first few days, he only saw Giovanni, Camilla was nowhere to be found, so he only thought about his vengeance. Once he had seen her, however, the game changed.

What had started as a petty chance for revenge turned into an entire fantasy. When he had first seen her, Niccolo was shocked by her appearance. Yes, she was still beautiful and yes, Giovanni had provided Camilla with all the jewels and dresses she needed, but Niccolo could see the defeat in her expression. He could see despair in her eyes. In the four years he had been gone from Firenze, her spirit had aged decades. The playfulness was gone from her expression; wrinkles and lines caused by stress and worry were only just noticeable under layers of makeup. Niccolo was at first filled with pity and sadness, but then anger soon took its place.

Giovanni did not have the right to do this to Camilla. She was beautiful on the inside and out, a clever and witty mind paired with the beauty of her exterior, but the noble had decided to ignore that. To him, Camilla was merely a trophy, a pretty thing to place on his shelf along with his other accomplishments.

Niccolo's vengeance became something more than just killing Giovanni Simonetti. Now he was tasked with rescuing Camilla. Although she would become a widow and lose her property, Niccolo knew she would accept him. Her father could no longer keep her from her freedom; she would be able to choose between them. Either the monster that kept her caged or the man who had loved her for her mind, but she would have that choice. If she chose him, he would do anything to provide for her. She might not be a merchant princess if she spent her life with him, but at least she would have some chance for happiness.

If nothing else, she deserved that.

***

Niccolo jumped down from the roof and onto the vendor's table, which shook from the sudden impact.

"Hey!" the vendor shouted, but Niccolo had already jumped off the table and sprinted forward, his short blade in his hand. The thug in the canary yellow colors of the Simonetti family perked his ears at the merchant's yell, but he did not have enough time to react before Niccolo brought the blade point down behind his collar bone, puncturing his heart swiftly. As the still-breathing bodyguard started to fall forward, Niccolo was already prying the blade from his body.

When he brought his head back up to regard Giovanni and his men, they were facing him in confusion. The young noble and his bodyguards were not expecting the sudden strike as they were moving along the market place. Niccolo had watched them for half an hour already, creeping along the rooftops, and had leapt on them when they had reached a largely-vacant stretch of road.

"Who...What?!" Giovanni shouted as he brought his long sword out of his scabbard, stepping in front of the woman cowering behind him. Niccolo almost laughed at the situation, but kept his head under pressure. The other two thugs had taken out their weapons, one a large club and the other a long sword, but Niccolo was not nervous at all. He calmly stood up above the newly-made corpse and smiled as Fiorentini screamed around him.

"A ghost, young Simonetti. A man who should be dead," Niccolo teased as he ran forward toward the two thugs, whose thoughts had turned to violence. The assassin brought out his second short blade and ducked under the heavy strike of the first man's club, spinning slightly so that he could draw his weapon across the man's Achilles' tendon. The bodyguard crashed down to his knee and yelped, lifting his head skyward and making it easy for Niccolo, who merely continued his spin and cut into the man's throat before drawing the blade back and tearing it open, spraying the other thug with lifeblood.

"Kill him!" Giovanni shouted, but Niccolo just smiled at the remaining thug, whose blade shook with nervousness.

"Do you think you _can_ , big guy?" Niccolo asked, which made the thug's lip quiver. He gripped his sword tighter and stepped around the corpse of his friend.

"Sure. How about you leave... How about you leave and we forget this?" the thug offered, summoning a false bravado he did not deserve to express. Niccolo just laughed before pointing both blades down away from him and walking forward.

"Forget? Oh, but I've held onto these memories for four years. You were there, sir. I'm not sure I _can_ forget," Niccolo said calmly, a crooked smile on his face.

"Niccolo?" came a whimper from behind Giovanni, but the assassin did not bother to look. He was far more concerned with the brute with the long sword.

"Kill him, now, you coward!" Giovanni yelled, which seemed to snap the bigger man out of his daze. He brought down his blade in a violent diagonal strike from his right, trying to crush Niccolo, but he was not used to fighting such a nimble opponent. Niccolo merely ducked to the left and avoided the blow before bringing both of his blades to the right, knocking the blade out of the thug's hands. The huge man, realizing he was clearly outclassed, backed up against the wall and started to cry.

"Please, he just pays me..." he pleaded, but Niccolo did not listen. The assassin walked within striking distance and then brought both blades across in front of him, ignoring the screams of the larger man. He turned to the sound of the man's head and hands falling to the ground, sheathed his weapons and then wiped the blood from his cheek. He had to resist the urge to smile as he saw Giovanni Simonetti's face twisted in horror.

"I feel bad for them," Niccolo said, inspecting the nails on his right hand as he walked forward. "They were just making a living. But, well, I guess it falls to them to pick the right employer," he said, stopping just a few yards away from the noble.

"Look, if you want money..." Giovanni started, but with one glare from Niccolo's good eye, the coward stopped speaking.

"Do you _really_ not recognize me, Simonetti? I'll give you a hint. We fought over _her_ ," Niccolo said before pointing at the woman Giovanni was pushing back with his left hand. The noble turned to face her as she stepped forward, her eyes on the assassin who had quickly dispatched Giovanni's bodyguards.

"Nico, what happened to you?" she asked, her voice faltering as she took in the grisly sight. Niccolo sighed before setting his hand on the handle of his long sword, the only addition to his usual attire.

"Life, my love. A life without you," he said, which made Giovanni finally realize who had attacked him.

"You're that...you're the Vespucci son!" he shouted, which Niccolo ignored. He just continued to stare into Camilla's face, the old emotions surging back in his heart.

"Why have you done this?" she asked, her hands clasped in front of her, reminding Niccolo of worshippers in prayer. "Why did you have to kill them?"

"I needed a fair fight, my love. For our duel, Giovanni must be alone," he said before finally regarding the nervous noble. The man's handsome face was twisted into anger, his confidence returning with his arrogance.

" _Duel_? With _you_? Why should I duel a leper? What do I have to gain?" he shouted, abandoning any pretense of protecting his wife. They all knew Niccolo would never hurt her.

"Think about what you have to lose, Giovanni," Niccolo said before slowly withdrawing his long sword and settling it in his right hand. He had plenty of room to kill the man in this tiny street, everyone having abandoned it to their grudge match. "Respect. Pride. The sense of entitlement that you have. My, what would your parents think if you refused to _take_ _out_ _the_ _trash_ , so to speak? But really, it comes down to one thing, Simonetti."

"What is that?" Giovanni asked as he rolled his eyes, forgetting how easily Niccolo had dispatched his men.

"You _really_ don't have a choice," Niccolo said, spying the sheen on his blade, the green hint that meant so much more. Giovanni would have time to think before he would be sent to Hell.

"Niccolo, don't! Please," Camilla urged, stepping in between the two men in her life. "He's my husband!"

"Your husband?" Niccolo asked, a fury rising within him. "A man who abuses you, treats you like cattle? This is the kind of man that you want to live the rest of your life with?" he demanded answers, the skin around his lips quivering in anger. "You want to be married to _him_?"

"No," she admitted, her gaze falling to the bricks of the street, "but that's the way our lives have worked out. I would have given anything to live with you, Nico. I would have given anything to raise your children and stand by your side, but that's not what was meant for us."

"I can give you that, Camilla, or at least part of that. Your father, he can't deny us now. We could live together; I can provide for you," he explained, but he was interrupted by the raucous laughter coming from behind the love of his life.

"You fool!" Giovanni shouted as he stepped forward, pushing Camilla aside. "You can give her _nothing_! You are a leper, and your disease shall end with you!" he shouted before coming at Niccolo with a wild thrust. Niccolo almost snarled as the man proved his arrogance was undeserved, knocking away the blade with a simple parry. Instead of recognizing his obvious weakness, the noble rushed into another strike, crossing the blade across his body in order to lop off Niccolo's head. The assassin merely ducked underneath and drove his hilt deep into the noble's stomach, forcing him to fall backward.

"I can give her more than you, you spoiled bastard! Unlike you, I _know_ hardship, and though I can't give her the _riches_ ," Niccolo said as he walked forward and knocked away Giovanni's overhead blow with a quick slash across his body, grabbing the man's throat with his diseased hand, which he had kept uncovered just for this moment. "At least I can give her some happiness!"

He shoved Giovanni along the street, who then tumbled over the corpse of the closest thug. Niccolo waited for him to pick himself back up, reveling in this turn of fortune. Giovanni's yellow clothing was covered with dark red stains as it absorbed the blood of his men, which made Niccolo smile in his fury.

"Nico, stop!" Camilla shouted, but she did not dare get closer to the men dueling for her life. Niccolo ignored her plea, knowing she would choose him after all of this, and instead advanced on Giovanni, who had just risen to his feet. The noble was already winded and Niccolo could see that his shirt had become un-tucked, exposing the paunch that had developed from years of laziness. When Giovanni threw out his blade in a weak cross strike, Niccolo held his own blade in two hands and smacked it out of his grip. Then he drove the blade forward, cutting just beneath the rib cage on the noble's left side, deliberately avoiding any vital organs. Niccolo would make sure the man would suffer, first from losing this duel and then from the poison now coursing through his veins.

"You lose," he said before advancing on the fallen noble and then stepping on Giovanni's sternum before bringing the point of his sword above his throat. "How does that _feel_?"

"Niccolo Vespucci!" Camilla shouted, shocking the assassin from his efforts. He turned, taking his foot off Simonetti's chest, and found the woman looking at him with desperation.

"Camilla, we can be together," Niccolo said softly, forgetting the man at his feet and squaring up to the woman who had traded her life for his. He could not understand why she was crying again. He briefly wondered if she really felt something for this monster that was now dying at his feet.

"No, we _can't_ , Nico. That's not our future anymore," she explained, tears streaming down her face and ruining the layers of makeup. "Even if Giovanni was not my husband, even though my father is gone, you're not going to win me in some duel!"

"My love..." he started, not noticing the man stirring behind him, his hand venturing to the boot on his right leg.

"I love you, Nico, but I can't spend my life with a leper. I can't spend my life with someone who can kill three people and not care!" she shouted, staring at the ground before bringing her hand to her collar, lifting a silver band from beneath her clothing, a simple ring swaying lightly as she brought it out. Camilla grabbed the jewelry, breathed in deeply and then brought the ring above her head before offering it to him on her open palm. "We were in love, Nico. I will always cherish that memory. But now you have to let me go, just like I...am letting you go."

"Camilla," Niccolo said, his voice wavering as he realized that his fantasy was just that. There was no riding off into the sunset with this woman sitting on the saddle behind him.

"I cannot live with a leper," she repeated, breaking Niccolo's heart just another time. He stepped backward, feeling like he had been stabbed, but then he realized that it was not just Camilla's words. He looked down, his gaze starting to blur, and saw something sticking out of his chest. Niccolo looked back up to Camilla and found her face filled with horror, her eyes shaking as she took in the situation. The assassin looked down again to find the blade had twisted in his body, showing the broad side of the dagger shining with his blood.

" _This_ is what you _deserve_. This is _your place_. Now die like the worthless beggar you are," he heard Giovanni whisper behind him, but then he felt the blade pull out of him, drawing his strength with it. Niccolo fell to his knees, realizing that he was dying, and slumped to the street, his eyes staring into the severed head of that last thug.

He could still breathe, he could still feel pain, but most of it was fading now. Niccolo Vespucci, one of the most feared assassins in Napoli, was dying in a random street in Firenze. There was no purpose to his life, no greater meaning to the blight on his arm or the ruins of his face. Whatever "gift" that God had given him had been thrown away in a vain pursuit for justice. Niccolo breathed out one last time, realizing he had meant nothing.

Then he was engulfed in flames.

***

Barbas watched as the newest arrival to the Pestilence Quarter fell from the sky. They were not always so dramatic, but the old demon knew better than to guess as to why this one was twisting through the air, writhing in pain and screaming his heart out. Perhaps the fallen angel would know more about his new student's predicament once he was able to form coherent sentences.

The demon walked through the training yards, the young soldiers of the Pestilence Quarter practicing their archery, but he did not think any of them would strike him. Most of the former humans had seen what Barbas could do if he became angry; most of them held the old demon in reverence. Most of them knew better.

However, as he walked through the training yard, a pair of arrows whipped through the air in front of him. Barbas stopped momentarily, noticing the two arrows had landed in the bull's-eye, and almost flew into a rage before turning to see the culprit. A malicious smile stretched across the archer's face, twisting his oriental features into a cruel mask of humanity.

"Careful, master. I was in the middle of my drills," the man said before throwing out his hip and swinging a twisted, black bow in the loose grip of his right hand. Barbas glared at the archer, dressed in ostentatious yellow and green clothing, and swung his staff across the arrows which snapped under the strike.

"I'm not the one who should be careful. Being the Horseman of Pestilence grants you only so many privileges, Lü Bu," the fallen angel said before continuing on his path, not bothering to watch the archer's arrogant reaction. Barbas had never liked the man from China and hoped someone would come to replace him. If the Apocalypse started with that man's arrogant war cry, Barbas would rather fall into oblivion.

When the ground shook from the new soul falling into the ground, Barbas was suddenly very interested. For the man to fall in such a way, bathed entirely in fire and striking Hell with such force, there was already a measurable amount of power within him. Barbas increased his pace toward the outskirts of the training ground and saw the crater less than a hundred yards away. He was almost running by the time he arrived at the lip of the crater.

Barbas saw what had become of the man and was filled with pity, raising his hand to his mouth in concern. This soul was merely a boy, he could not have aged past his mid-twenties, but Barbas could tell that he had suffered more than his fair share.

Mostly naked and covered with some new burns, the young man groaned in his pain, his teeth grinding against each other in order to deal with the sensory explosion. Barbas watched as he writhed and the disease on his arm twisted and mutated into some hellish form. The bones snapped and rejoined, becoming larger and tearing the muscles of his arm, healing them instantly to form larger bundles of muscle fiber. Barbas bit into the knuckle of his index finger as the soul's fingers extended and the nails sharpened to black points, gleaming in the firelight of Hell.

After a few torturous moments, the transformation seemed to stop, the soul's new arm only throbbing every other second, so Barbas walked forward and slid down the lip of the crater. The ruler of the Pestilence Quarter was filled with pity and walked to the man's side before bringing his hand to clear the man's face of matted hair. Barbas almost gasped once he saw what the blight had done to the poor boy's face, but soon he became accustomed to the sight.

The sympathetic demon put his hand beneath the man's head and coaxed him back to consciousness. When the human soul opened his only eye, Barbas made sure to give him the warmest smile he could give.

"Shhh, don't worry. I've got you now," he said with a soft voice, watching the man's face twist in pain and confusion.

"Is this Hell?" he asked, which made Barbas' heart ache for the poor boy.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry," he replied, clearing the man's hair from his sweating brow. The soul groaned before breathing out in desperation.

"It hurts," he whined in pure reaction, which made Barbas bite his lip before responding. He did what he could to hide his pity, and instead tried to provide relief for the young boy.

"I know, young man, I know. That will pass."

"Who are you?" he asked, his eye closing from fatigue, but clearly still conscious. When he opened it up again, Barbas was crying.

"A friend. A mentor. Whatever you need me to be."

# Chapter 11: Fall of the House of Lucifer

"What the hell were you thinking, Nico?" Lucifer yelled, slamming his fist on the desk in front of him. Niccolo had not been in Lucifer's private chambers for a few years, but with all of the demons in the palace, his bedroom was the only appropriate place for this conversation. It was just the two of them, Azazel and Cadmus in the room; no one else needed to hear them speaking.

"Scratch, he was saying some really terrible things. He said that it might be good for you to die, that it might be good for Hell to be destroyed," Niccolo tried to explain, but Lucifer did not appreciate his excuses. The fallen angel closed his eyes before bringing up his hands to cover them.

"He's the _Leviathan_ , Nico. You can't talk to him and expect him to understand... _feelings_ ," he said before turning to Azazel, who was leaning against the wall near his bed, which was just a simple mattress on top of an unassuming frame.

"You can't expect him to understand anything but his stomach," the blindfolded demon said before picking his nose.

"Who is he, anyway?" Niccolo asked, desperate for a straight answer, but was met with a laugh from the grey-skinned demon, who flicked away the booger he had found in his nostril.

"Hah, you don't want to know," he said, but Niccolo stepped forward and pointed his blighted index finger toward Azazel.

"I _do_ , Zell! I've been in the dark for way too long," Niccolo shouted, but Cadmus stepped forward to place his hand on his shoulder, trying to hold him back. The blindfolded demon let out a bark of laughter before shoving himself off the wall and shaking his head, his tail coiling around his leg above the hoof.

"Um, you don't really know what 'too long' _is_ , kiddo."

"Enough of this," Lucifer said as he wiped his face and then set his hands on his hips and pacing in front of his desk. "Nico," he continued without looking at the Horseman, "the Leviathan is not your problem. He's...not even a problem. He's just here for the council, and he'll leave as soon as it's over. That monster is not your concern."

"Fine," Niccolo admitted, lowering his arm and shifting in his place.

"What _is_ your concern is not making a goddamned scene in the Reception Hall!" Lucifer shouted, despair in his voice. The ruler of Hell turned to Niccolo and set his left arm across his torso and used it to support his right arm, which was holding up his head. "Do you know how much trouble you've created for me? For the last two million years I've been trying to prove that you humans aren't worthless, that you have something to offer, and you're _not_ exactly helping that."

"Scratch," Niccolo said, shaking his head and wanting to explain himself, but the disappointment in Lucifer's golden eyes was enough to halt the words in his throat.

"I can count on one hand the number of kings who are _ambivalent_ to humans and that little explosion might have lowered that number, Nico. Some of the kings are just looking for an excuse to take control of Hell, and if it looks like I take counsel from a spoiled, human brat, it does not help my position."

"Look, Scratch, that isn't important," Niccolo started, which made Azazel cackle.

"I'm sorry, say that again. Just keep on telling _the Devil_ what's important," he said with a wild grin, but Cadmus finally joined the conversation to support his friend.

"He's right, even if he doesn't know the first thing about subtlety," the reaper said, looking to Lucifer with worry. "We're not here to make a scene. We're here to gather information."

"Alright, explain yourself, Horseman," Lucifer said, his voice weary; the fallen was obviously tired of fighting them. Cadmus turned slightly to look at Niccolo before nodding slightly, then resumed eye contact with Lucifer.

"We're here to stop the Cult of Ascension, Lucifer. They're," he started, but Azazel interrupted him.

"We know who they are. Ronové briefed us on them back during their heyday."

"You do? Then...why didn't you tell us earlier? We rode all over Dis for that information," Niccolo stated, bringing a sigh from Lucifer.

"We were hoping it was just rumors. Maybe that it was something else," Lucifer admitted, looking at the Horsemen with tired eyes. "But it's not exactly like I can go all over Hell without people noticing, especially this close to the council. It would draw too much attention."

"You planned for us to find out for you," Cadmus muttered, bringing a nod from their leader.

"Every once in a while I have to be cunning, reaper. You don't get to rule eleven kingdoms without learning how to pull some strings," he said before walking over to his bed and then sitting down. "So you think it's the Cult behind Räum's vision?"

"That's what we think," Cadmus admitted, worrying the handle of his scythe with both hands. "It looks like the Shroud was never killed, Ronové and Crocell said as much, and it seems like he's back and more powerful than ever. Crocell said that he had never been able to turn the Fallen before, but just yesterday two angels were turned into mindless animals."

"Apparently Andras got caught, too," Azazel said, his tail unwrapping from his leg to tap at Lucifer's knee. "Not one of the family, but not really someone we wanted to lose."

"You know about Andras?" Niccolo asked, which caused the blindfolded demon to turn toward him in confusion.

"Of course, he's part of Astaroth's network. I keep my ear to the ground."

"If you knew all of this," Niccolo said before clenching his fists and yelling, "if you knew all of this, why the _fuck_ didn't you tell us?"

"Calm down, Nico," Lucifer said before rubbing his forehead with his right hand. "From up here, we hear rumors. We needed to _know_ what was going on. Now," he said before sighing, "now we do."

"Is there anything else?" Azazel asked, crossing his arms and standing next to Lucifer. Cadmus frowned at them for a moment, but then relented.

"We think some of the kings are in on it. Sitri was guiding us," he started, but Azazel shook his head before putting the palm of his right hand up to his face.

"You're trusting _him_?"

"He's a she, today," Lucifer added. "I thought you kept your ear to the ground."

"That's not important," Cadmus interrupted the two fallen angels, shocking them into silence. They had never heard the reaper talk back to them like this; Cadmus was supposed to be the respectful one.

"What's important," he continued before glancing at Niccolo to include him, "is that Sitri has good information that your most vocal opponents are not content with just speaking against you, Lucifer. Bael could be playing both sides, but Viné and Belial have been raging against you in speeches they've made in their provinces."

"That's not a surprise," Azazel commented, but Cadmus continued over him.

"Granted, but what Sitri had heard about them is somewhat disconcerting, and from the conversations I had with them...you weren't there," he mentioned to Niccolo, "they're hiding something."

"I'll take that into account, Cadmus," Lucifer said before looking at Azazel. "They _have_ been getting more vocal in the last few centuries."

"Not all the kings are bad, though," Niccolo added, drawing the gaze of the other three. "Paimon, Amdusias and Asmodeus seem trustworthy."

"Well, Paimon and the twins were never really questionable," Azazel said in dismissal, but Lucifer gave him a light tap on the elbow.

"It's good to have an outsider's perspective, Zell. Thank you, Nico," he said as he turned to face the Horsemen. "Well," he muttered before pushing himself off the bed and onto his feet, "it's time for the council. Hopefully they won't try anything there."

"We could just ask them, you know?" Azazel teased. "I'm sure they'll admit trying to kill you. We _are_ family, after all," he said, which brought a weary laugh from his friend.

"That used to count for something, didn't it?" he asked before walking up to Niccolo and setting his gentle hands on the leper's shoulders. "Thank you, Nico. You too, Cadmus," Lucifer said, briefly turning to include the reaper, "I know you don't appreciate being left out of the loop, but we needed to know."

"I understand," Niccolo said, staring up into the kind demon's eyes. "I don't like it, but I understand. What are you going to say in there?" he asked, making Lucifer straighten up and look past him.

"Not much, really. I'm just going to argue against them when they accuse me of being a terrible leader. These meetings are honestly pretty useless, but you'll see," he said before patting Niccolo's shoulders and then moving past him toward the door.

"I'll see?" Niccolo asked, which caused the fallen angel to pause.

"Well, yeah. You're coming, too. Both of you," he said before nodding at Cadmus.

"You're bringing humans to the _council_?" Azazel asked in confusion, but Lucifer just shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Because that will make Beleth and the others angry?" the blindfolded demon suggested, but that just caused Lucifer's expression to break into a mischievous smile.

" _Exactly_. That's how I want them," Lucifer teased before opening the door and stepping through, looking over his shoulder at the Horsemen.

"Come on, we don't want to be late."

***

The three of them walked through the palace, down seemingly endless stairways and through side rooms Niccolo had never seen before, and it was all the Horsemen could do to keep up with Lucifer. Every one of his strides equaled two of theirs, so by the time they made it to the doorway which led out to the Overlook, both Horsemen were slightly winded. Two humans Niccolo recognized as the Hell Knights, Lucifer's personal guard, were stationed outside the massive doors and, from the expression on the woman's face, Niccolo could tell they were very late.

"Might want to take a deep breath, Lucifer," the woman said, breathing out heavily as Lucifer approached her. Niccolo recognized her immediately from one of the games he had seen in the Pits; Cimeries was one of the strongest warriors in Hell, coming from a long tradition of Amazon warriors. The Horseman had never seen her nervous, she was fearless in the face of gruesome demons, but the woman covered in light, hodgepodge armor now looked concerned. Her gauntlet rattled as she gripped the handle of her pike even tighter.

"They all here?" Lucifer asked, bringing a nod from the other guard, who had been a tribal warrior on the African plains. Furcas did not wear metal armor like his compatriot and instead wore light, leather armor he had made himself. The former human kept his long, dark hair in dreads, complemented by the occasional bone from past enemies as a symbol of his achievements, and his legend had grown over his centuries of service. Now he was leaning on the long spear in his hand and bit his lip in discomfort.

"They've been yelling for your head, angel. Very loud about it; could hear them from over here," Furcas said before walking over to the door and opening it for the ruler of Hell. "Good time to stop them, I think."

"I'll try that, Furcas," he said before motioning for the Horsemen to follow him to the Overlook.

Niccolo was stunned as he took it all in. The Overlook was a massive place, a part of the palace he had never seen before, and now he wondered how the palace hadn't fallen apart over the years. While he could see the kings all gathered at the tall podiums at the bottom of the stairs, Niccolo could not stop staring at the huge room, which seemed to be as big as the foundation for the palace. Massive arches spread across the breadth of the room, making Niccolo wonder just who was the architect of such a thing.

"Seems impossible, doesn't it?" Cadmus asked with a slight smile. Niccolo shook his head and continued staring.

"What?" he asked as he stared at the lava rising and falling behind the bickering demons at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed insane that there was all this empty space beneath the palace.

"The bottom fell out thousands of years ago," Cadmus explained, pushing Niccolo's back as he walked, forcing the leper to walk with him. "The palace was built a long time ago when the lava flows were much lower. When Hell was struck by a massive earthquake, the old palace had to be abandoned and, well, they built the new one on top of the old foundation. This used to be the old throne room."

"The new one's better. The old room inspired agoraphobia," Lucifer added, not bothering to face his young companions.

"I wouldn't know," Cadmus said before resuming his explanation. "But since they needed a place to host the Council of Kings, they figured this would suit them. Now, every one hundred years, Lucifer has to come down here and convince ten demons they shouldn't kill each other."

"And that's getting harder every century, boys," Lucifer said as he reached the bottom step and walked toward the demons at their podiums, which were arranged in a semi-circle with enough room for them to be comfortable. There were still two hundred yards between them and the gathered demons, but they all noticed the fallen angel's approach. Their yelling and arguments halted until Lucifer reached the center of the semicircle, the Horsemen standing on either side of him.

"So you respect us enough to show up, but not enough to be on time, brother?" the demon in the center asked, his face twisted into a malicious smirk. He was taller than average and wearing tattered, white robes, but Niccolo was staring at the former angel's face. It was withered and gaunt, rotting just like the rest of him, and was framed by long, dark hair that reminded Niccolo of a corpse, hanging down sparsely as most of his scalp was barren. However, his dominating feature was the lack of eyes in his face. Instead, the black pits seemed to ooze out darkness and shadows, making Niccolo wonder if he had ever been an angel in the first place.

"Belial, how are you today?"

"Impatient, Lucifer," he said, gripping the sides of his podium with bony hands, his skin white at the knuckles. "We've been meaning to have some words with you."

"About what, dear brother?" Lucifer asked, crossing his arms and looking oblivious.

" _You_ _know_ _what_ , Lucifer!" shouted a woman two podiums down. Aside from her eyes, which looked feline, the auburn-haired woman looked almost normal. She wore a simple grey shirt and pair of slacks, both of which clung to her slight curves and exposed very little skin. "Things have not been going well."

"God, Viné, shut up," Zagan groaned from the left end of the semicircle, propping himself up with his right elbow. "Nobody wants to hear your nagging."

"It's not nagging, you imbecile," Beleth sneered at his brother from the other end of the semicircle before turning to Lucifer below them. "We're holding you accountable for your negligence."

"What negligence is that?" Lucifer asked innocently, bringing a laugh from the cat-eyed woman and a roar from the demonic bear on the other side.

"That you choose to ignore it is evidence enough, brother!" Balam shouted, exposing his unnatural goat teeth set in the jaws of his ursine face, but the king next to him put out his hand.

"Now, now," the demon said with a lazy roll of his tongue. The fallen angel looked like a toad, extending his neck before croaking in a low pitch, "we should at least hear his side."

"Bael, he doesn't have a side!" Belial shouted, darkness flaring out from the space where his eyes should be. "He's just _at_ _fault_!"

"You can't blame Lucifer for the feral problem, Belial," Paimon interjected, tapping her fingers against her face as she held up her head. "It's happening all over Hell, not just Dis."

"Exactly!" Viné shouted before pointing at her brother standing in the middle of the podiums. "It encompasses _all_ of Hell, sister! Since we appointed him as our leader, nothing good has come of the arrangement. This _feral_ _problem_ is just more evidence that Lucifer is not fit to rule Hell."

"What do you expect him to do, Viné?" Asmodeus said as he slammed his podium with his fists. "Go around and tell demons who are about to turn to _not_ _do_ _that_ and slap them on the wrist? We don't know why they're turning and we certainly don't know how to stop it. The best we can do is what Lucifer _has_ done. He told Buné to start up the reaper program. He asked those of us who could stomach it to become slayers. What more do you want?"

"How about figuring out what the damn problem is?" Balam shouted, the small eyes in his bestial face contracting in anger. "For the last thousand years, we've been losing our subjects to some disease. A _thousand_ years! That is a lot of time, Asmodeus. Enough time to figure out the problem and stop it. We were angels, my brothers and sisters, not humans. We can expect better and more from our leader," he argued, making Niccolo's lip curl in anger. Balam was getting on his nerves.

"What sssay you to that, brother?" Purson asked, his tongue flickering in and out with interest. Niccolo could see that he had coiled his entire body around his podium. Lucifer nodded, considering his words before looking to Viné and Belial in turn.

"You're right."

"They're _right_?" Bael asked, his neck extending out before he let out a croak. "You're just going to admit to your faults?"

"You should be able to look to your leader for guidance, for action. I completely agree. For the last thousand years, I haven't really acted on the feral problem," Lucifer said, breathing in deeply as he looked to his brothers and sisters standing behind their high podiums.

"You _admit_ to this crime?" Viné almost squealed in delight. Niccolo could tell she had not expected to win her argument so easily.

"Sister, you should just listen. You're missing the obvious," Amdusias said with a stone face, not bothering to react as the yellow-eyed woman hissed at him.

"If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it, brother," she said, the hair on her neck rising at the threat. Amdusias turned from her and instead looked at his leader.

"The problem, Viné, is that you deserve to hear it much more often than when you ask for it. So, Lucifer, what would you suggest we do to punish your...inaction?"

"I suggest that you help me," Lucifer said, surprising ten ancient demons with six small words.

"Help you?" Belial spat out, the darkness retreating to his eye sockets. "We are to _help_ our leader? The very fallen we have found _wanting_?"

"Pretty much," Lucifer said, which drew a hearty laugh from Zagan, who had stopped leaning on his arm.

"God, I missed you, Lucy. You need to visit more," he said before lifting his bottle to his lips and taking a few gulps of red wine. He brought the glass back down and breathed out in satisfaction before slapping the surface of his podium. "So what help do you need, brother?"

"So there's this thing," Lucifer said before scratching his cheek and looking at his siblings, who were all ensnared by his words, "it's called the Cult of Ascension. _Real_ pain in my side."

"Oh, that's just a myth," Beleth groaned, but Lucifer continued over him.

"See, they're led by this _Shroud_ character and this guy," he said before looking down and laughing, "this guy keeps making these strong fallen and demons, well, he keeps turning them into animals."

"You expect us to believe in some rumor?" Viné said with a look of disgust, her eyes narrowed to slits.

"I know, I know, sounds ridiculous. The thing is, he was really active back when Adonai gave us his _revelations_ and Amon and Räum deciphered them for us. Then he kinda disappeared," Lucifer continued, which made Niccolo smile. He had been disappointed in his mentor earlier, but now all he felt was pride.

"Brother, even I cannot endorse this," Bael croaked, but Lucifer just stamped the ground with his right foot, abandoning pretense and looking at his siblings in complete seriousness.

"And now he's back. He's turning the Fallen, now, including Räum, who had visions where I, where your _ruler_ , was killed. It was disconcerting, but what is more disconcerting is that this Shroud has help."

"So I turn to you," Lucifer said, projecting his voice so his siblings would not interrupt. "If _he_ has help, _I_ need help. I'm declaring war on this Cult, this Shroud and whoever is helping him. So, quit your bickering, quit your blaming. You accused me of not acting, brother, sister," he said as he turned to Belial and Viné, "so let's act."

"You don't deserve this position, Lucifer!" Viné screamed, exposing her fangs along with her anger. "You expect us to believe that this Cult is responsible for demons turning feral? The Apocalypse is upon us, brother, and there's no time to waste with little rumors. I suggest you resign now and spare yourself more embarrassment."

"Why do you have to be such a bitch?" Zagan asked, which made the furious demon turn to him. "You're not even listening."

"Oh, she's listening, alright," Belial interrupted, darkness flaring from his eye sockets and fuming above him, "and I agree with her. This ridiculous farce shall end, we'll appoint a new leader, and get on with preparing for the Apocalypse. According to the prophecies, we need to be ready if we are to survive."

"Now," Bael croaked, drawing the fury of the withered demon and Viné, but continuing nonetheless, "we can't just ask for his resignation without investigating his claims. We're to be civilized, my friends. Now, Lucifer," the toad addressed his brother and ruler, "what proof do you have?"

"These two behind me," he said before motioning to the Horsemen, making them feel entirely exposed. "They are my source."

"Lucifer," Amdusias muttered with disappointment before a cackle of laughter went up from the cat-eyed woman, who had turned her head to the ceiling.

"Humans! _Humans_ are your proof. My GOD, brother, I didn't expect the years to be so cruel on you," she said before lowering her head to bare her fangs at the Devil. "You must have gone insane again."

"These two have led an investigation which has led me to believe that the Cult is real."

"You expect us to care what two _humans_ think?" Belial asked, crossing his arms over his podium and leaning down to look at them. Niccolo was about to step forward and speak, but the reaper tapped his scythe and shook his head. The two of them turned back just in time to see Belial dismiss their inclusion as proof. "They're barely more than toddlers."

"Nevertheless," Lucifer said before stepping in front of them again, crossing his arms. "I trust them, which is more than I can say for most of Dis and, for that matter, most of Hell. These two inherited the memories of Räum and Valefor; they have fought their way through the underbelly of Dis and told me what they have learned. Now I know the truth. One of our siblings is determined to spread chaos and death, determined to turn us into beasts so they can take power."

"Why should we believe this?" Bael asked, but Belial stood up to his full height and pointed down at his brother.

"Lucifer. You insult us. Not only do you trust humans over your brothers and sisters, but you bring them into our council!" he shouted, darkness pouring out of his eye sockets and running down the hard edges of his withered face.

"That's right!" Viné shouted, gripping her podium tightly and extending her claws, sending splinters of the podium to the ground. "I was so surprised by your _idiocy_ that I didn't even realize it. How could you insult us so?"

"They're just humans, sister," Asmodeus argued, "and from what I've seen, damn good ones."

"You always had a weakness for them, brother," Beleth said as he shifted in his armor. He loomed over his podium and the air around him fell into darkness.

"A weakness you gave to us," Belial said as he joined his brother in his accusation. "If not for them, and if not for _you_ , we would still be in Heaven!"

"That's not fair!" Zagan shouted, slamming his podium so hard that it split down the middle.

"You apologissse, Belial!" Purson joined him, his hood flaring from his reptilian head. Niccolo was shaking with anger as Belial stared at his brother, unable to believe that a sibling could say such a thing to Lucifer.

"I move for Lucifer's impeachment," Viné said, knocking against the wood of her podium, bringing every demon present into a shouting match. There seemed to be no hope for recovery until Cadmus slammed the end of his scythe against the floor, sending echoes throughout the massive chamber and bringing the attention of eleven fallen angels.

"I SAW him, Lords and Ladies!" Cadmus shouted, doing his best to keep his fear hidden. He did not stop to consider the look that Lucifer gave him or the pride that radiated from the fallen angel. "I saw the Shroud holding a knife as Lucifer lay dead beneath him. Clearly you can't believe a human, even though you fought for us, but I can tell you _with_ _certainty_ that vision did not come from me. _That_ came from your brother, Räum, who was turned feral by that very same Shroud. The same Shroud who caused Crocell, Ronové and Astaroth to hide away; the same figure who now threatens your provinces."

"Now is not the time to impeach Lucifer, even if you don't agree with his actions!" he declared, looking at each fallen angel in turn. "Now is the time for us to -"

"Further _INSULT!_ " Viné shouted before turning to the other kings at their podium. "Now we have to hear the words of a human? We cannot trust our brother if he brings such reckless souls before us!"

"Will you shut up for one second, you harpy?" Niccolo shouted, his rage finally unable to be controlled. Unlike Cadmus' interruption, none of the demons were shocked by this development and instead their reactions were a mixture of concern and fury. "Since coming down here, all I've heard is a lot of a finger-pointing and blaming for NO FUCKING REASON! Scratch has done the best damn job possible and none of you could do better."

"This human," Balam roared, but Niccolo instantly grabbed his gnarled bow and an arrow from his back, whipped them around and sent an arrow into the bear's podium, silencing the fallen angel.

"THIS _HORSEMAN_!" he shouted before bringing down the weapon and stepping forward, "HAS HAD ENOUGH! I wouldn't be surprised if one of _you_ was the Shroud! I'm a human, obviously, but that doesn't make me worth ignoring! My fellow Horsemen and I are tasked with _starting the Apocalypse_ and I don't want to hear _jack shit_ about how I'm just a human!" he screamed, glaring at each antagonistic demon with his good eye. Then he used his spare hand to point at the reaper behind him, who was frozen in shock.

"And I sure as hell don't want to hear you insult my best friend. This man is worth more than half of you, combined, and the next person to doubt his word gets to have an arrow in their throat, because I'm just going to assume that you're allied with the Shroud, or worse, that you _are_ the Shroud!" he threatened raising both his hands in challenge. "Any of you have _ANYTHING_ to say?"

"Oh, honey," Paimon said in shock, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Wait, Lucifer, are you _sure_ he isn't one of yours?" Zagan asked as he propped up his hand, but he was thrown out of his stupor by the loud roar that filled the chamber. All eyes turned to Balam, whose roar had shaken the very ground on which they stood, and stared at him as he lowered his head back down to stare at the leper, his chest heaving.

"YOU. WILL. DIE!" Balam roared as he swept his podium away with one hand and then covered the ten yards between them in an incredibly fast lunge. Niccolo did not even have time to move his arms and knew he was about to die, but when he flinched and looked away, he heard a loud impact and a light burned through his closed eyelid. When he finally opened his eye, he had to adjust to the new source of light, but soon he was able to see what had happened.

There in front of him, in all his glory, stood Lucifer. Light burned away from him, illuminating the entire chamber and swallowing up the shadows. Tendrils of energy swirled around the powerful demon, but Niccolo could not stop staring at the pure white wings that flared out from his muscular back, feathers falling from them only to rest upon the tendrils of light and sweep around him. On his left arm was a simple buckler, even brighter than his body and wings, which pulsated every few seconds, and in his right hand, burning with energy, was a small sword about the length of a Roman gladius.

"Lux," Niccolo whispered, surprised by Lucifer's actions. The fallen angel rarely brought out his true weapons, Lux and Morningstar, as the very sight of them was enough to inspire fear in fallen and humans alike. That sword had slain countless angels and otherworldly creatures; the light from that shield had inspired a rebellion.

"You _dare_ to bring Lux against me, Lucifer?" Balam shouted from the ground, having been knocked away by Lucifer's efforts. The ruler of Hell burned with a holy light which had never been taken from him, that he had never abandoned.

"You _dare_ to attack my ward? What _civility_ you have shown, brother!" Lucifer said, his voice somehow split into three different pitches, each in harmony with the other. "What pleasure it has been to see all of you again after so many years."

"What is the meaning of this, Lucifer?" Belial shouted, wings covered in black feathers projecting from his back as darkness poured out of his face. "You bring out your weapons during the Council of Kings? Have you no shame?!"

"Have _you_ , brother?" Lucifer calmly replied, pointing his sword toward him and then sweeping it along the semicircle of podiums. "Have the rest of you?" The radiant demon brought his blade down and then flapped his wings, the pure energy surrounding him flowing out along with white feathers.

"It has become apparent there is no use for a Council of Kings at this juncture," he declared, his wings drawing into his back, his shield burning brightly before condensing and retreating into his arm. "Not if we are going to argue like this, if we are going to abandon reason and let the wicked deceive us."

"You bastard," Viné snarled from her podium, her lips quivering in her rage. "You throw this in our face! You dare to show yourself for an angel once you have thrown us in Hell?"

"I'm not ashamed of what I am, sister," Lucifer said, his voice rejoining into one, "that was me as this is me. I am an angel and will always be one, just like you. We must not forget our past or our nature, even our mistakes, but I refuse to be ashamed of what I _am_."

"This is my sword, my only weapon. I have the decency to fight my enemies in the light," he said as he raised his arm with the sword held loosely in his grip. When he dropped it, the sword shattered into white energy which retreated into his body. "It is an absolute _shame_ ," Lucifer stressed the word as he stared at Viné, Belial and Beleth, "that some of you have decided to hide yourself and your actions in shadows."

"Good luck, brothers and sisters," he said before bowing to the last Council of Kings and then stepping back, putting his arm around Niccolo, who was still in shock from Lucifer's display. "I hope you make the right choice," Lucifer concluded before turning and dragging Niccolo away, collecting Cadmus in his other arm as he walked toward the stairs.

"How _dare_ you?" Viné screamed behind them, but almost immediately her screams were drowned in nine other shouts and accusations. Niccolo tried to look behind him to see the result of Lucifer's actions, but the ruler of Hell pushed him up the stairs and forced him to look forward.

After all, there was no going back.

***

"Scratch," Niccolo said, only just keeping up with the fallen angel, who was moving even faster than usual.

"Not now, Nico," Lucifer said without turning, leading them through the busy hallways. They had been rushing through the palace for the last five minutes, passing by the demons of court and servants without addressing them, even knocking over some of the creatures blocking their passage.

"Scratch, what are we going to-" he started again, but Lucifer glared at him out of the corner of his eye as he continued.

"Not now!" Lucifer shouted, losing control momentarily before continuing. "Let's get to the armory, first," he demanded, turning at the end of the statement. The Horsemen and Hell Knights followed after, not willing to risk Lucifer's anger. Cimeries and Furcas had joined them after Lucifer had thrown down the gauntlet, needing nothing more than a brief wave from the fallen angel. Niccolo had tried to explain at first, but they did not need an explanation.

The Hell Knights would follow Lucifer no matter what.

When they finally reached the armory, Niccolo had to gape in wonder. All kinds of weapons from all kinds of civilizations, some of them extinct, were scattered along the walls and different racks standing in the middle of the room. Halphas, the blacksmith, looked up from his work long enough for Lucifer to point at the far door.

"Go," he commanded, which was all the rough demon needed, and Halphas escaped from Lucifer's wrath. It was only a moment before Azazel burst through the doorway and motioned toward the door with his thumb.

"Umm, why is Halphas running like you're about to kill him?" he asked, which made Lucifer shrug before answering.

"I might have just started a war," he explained, which brought a short laugh from the grey-skinned demon.

"Oh, _that's all_? And I was expecting something bad," he said before closing the distance between them and wrapping his tail around a small dagger on a nearby rack, throwing it into his open right hand.

"What are we going to do, Scratch?" Niccolo shouted, his breathing strained from the effort of keeping up with the fallen angel. Lucifer finally turned to look at him and pursed his lips before settling his hand on the pommel of a great sword to his left.

"I'm going to hold them off, Nico. Azazel, Furcas, whoever is still loyal is going to help me," he said before approaching the leper and setting his hands on his shoulders. "You're going to go find Moloch."

"Moloch?" Cadmus asked from Niccolo's side, catching Lucifer's attention.

"He's an old soul, possibly the only one who can help with all of this."

"How can he help?" Niccolo asked in confusion, causing the fallen angel to offer a sad smile.

"If what I think is about to happen, he's going to help undo it. I need you to go get him; he lives outside of Dis, a few miles off the road out of the War Quarter."

"How are we supposed to find him?" Cadmus asked, at which point Lucifer looked over to Cimeries, who was already shaking her head.

"Cim is going to lead you, she knows the way," he said, but the woman grunted at his statement.

"No, Lucifer, I will not leave when all of Hell rises against you."

"It's not _all_ of Hell, Cimeries," Azazel said, picking his teeth with the blade he had grabbed, "just most of it."

"I need you to help them, Cim. My plan is not going to work without Moloch, and except for me and the other kings, you're the only one who knows the way," he urged, but Niccolo slapped away Lucifer's hands and shoved his rotten index finger to the angel's face.

"Stop being so damn cryptic, Scratch, tell us why you need him! Tell us why you need me to leave you alone against a city full of foreign demons," Niccolo demanded, his voice weakening as he continued. Niccolo did not want to lose Lucifer just because he ignored the rules and threatened a few angels.

"I don't have the time, Nico, and we're losing more of it as we talk. I need you to get Moloch because you're _Horsemen_. You're literally just faster. Alright?" he asked, bringing his arms back down onto Niccolo's shoulders.

"That's all?" Niccolo asked weakly, bringing a smile from the fallen angel.

"That's the only reason," Lucifer confirmed before sighing lightly. He brought up his left hand and wiped away the tear falling down Niccolo's right cheek. Suddenly, he could not handle the emotion that came with letting go of his second son and closed his arms around him.

"Be careful, kid. Do that for me," he said before letting go and turning to Azazel. Before he could say another word, Paimon burst through the door of the armory, her clothing ripped in a number of places and her nails extended into knives.

"You sure picked a good time to get it all out there, gentlemen," she said breathlessly. Lucifer nodded and then looked down at his Horsemen.

"Now would be a good time to leave," he said, each man nodding in response before walking toward the other exit, Cimeries behind them. Niccolo did not bother to look back at the fallen angels before kicking open the door and stepping through.

The three of them broke into a sprint as they left, bowling over demons who did not notice them coming or thought they would stop as they approached. Niccolo recognized a few, but he did not bother to talk to them. The only thing on his mind was finding this "Moloch" and bringing him back to the palace.

Hopefully they would not come back to find the palace in flames.

The massive iron doors leading out of the palace were closed when they got to the Reception Hall, but before Niccolo could curse, Cimeries' pike sailed past him and slammed against the door, almost throwing the slab off of its hinges. The leper looked over his shoulder at Cimeries, who just glared back.

"Eyes forward, Horseman," she said, causing Niccolo to wonder just who Cimeries had been during her life. As they moved past the door, Niccolo saw her pick up her weapon in a fluid motion, hoping that he would never have to fight the woman. He abandoned those thoughts as they reached the stairs leading away from the palace and then turned his head slightly to address the warrior.

"Just jump and hold onto me!" he shouted, causing the warrior look at him in confusion, but then the green mist started to form underneath her and she quickly jumped to join Niccolo on Plague's saddle, which had just materialized. Niccolo grabbed the reins of his horse and slapped them against the creature's back, not bothering to look at Cadmus, who had already spurred Mercy into a gallop.

"Like you need to tell me to hurry!" Plague shouted at him, but Niccolo did not bother to apologize. As their horses tore through the streets of the city, Niccolo looked back at the woman whose arms were wrapped around him.

"Who is Moloch, anyway? Why is he so important?" he asked, staring into her eyes. Cimeries glared at him for taking his eyes off the street rushing beneath them, but then looked back toward the palace.

"You might as well ask why God is important."

#  Chapter 12: Past - Death of a Horseman

Niccolo strung his bow with a quick movement and then pulled the string back with his right arm, hearing the wood creak in protest. Barbas had supplied the leper with a standard longbow, Niccolo was only one of the many archers in the Pestilence Quarter, but after just a few years even the old demon knew the pairing was inappropriate. An assassin like Niccolo deserved a better weapon, even if he was still struggling with the afterlife.

However, the leper did not feel the need to complain; Barbas had already done so much for him. When Niccolo looked down at his mutated arm, he wondered why the fallen had been so willing to help him, to ignore the blight that covered his left side. The other souls who fell to the Pestilence Quarter were provided for, Barbas saw to that, but the old demon had made an emotional investment in Niccolo for some reason.

The young soul pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back and nocked it against the string, pulling it back with concerted effort. Though the strength of the pull was nothing to scoff at, the archer was more concerned with the condition of the weapon. Niccolo had better quality weapons back on Earth.

When he released the arrow, it screamed through the air before falling just outside of the bull's eye. Niccolo sighed at that and grabbed another feathered arrow before setting it against the string. Though the scarred tissue extended over his eye just like in life, Niccolo had found that it did not affect his eyesight. In fact, he could somehow perceive his surroundings better than he had when he had two healthy eyes. Niccolo could _sense_ what he could not see and it was a twisted sort of blessing.

A sort of blessing that was throwing off his aim. The assassin had gotten used to seeing the world with one eye and judging his targets without the use of depth perception. Though Niccolo had been in the Pestilence Quarter for five years now, he was still having difficulty reclaiming his proficiency. It was frustrating for the new soul, as he had achieved mastery in just four years of Innocenti's tutelage.

As he loosed the second arrow, this one striking just to the left of the first arrow and further from the bull's eye, Niccolo snarled at his efforts. It was difficult for him to believe he had already spent five years in Hell; it felt like only a month since he had fallen. However, all of the new souls who fell down to his quarter told stories of the surface which left no room for doubt.

At first, Niccolo had been curious about events on Earth and had been desperate to hear news about Camilla or Giovanni, asking each new arrival if they had come from Firenze, but invariably he was disappointed. He had yet to meet a soul that had come from his city, and many of the new arrivals did not understand him at all. Niccolo could not blame them for that; it had taken him two years to learn the common tongue of Hell.

His fingers wrapped around another arrow before bringing it to the string, taking a deep breath before pulling it back and concentrating on his target. His thoughts drifted to his past and the way he had been killed, but he calmed his mind as he stared at the red target. That life was over now; his life was in that red circle on the target.

"Hey!" a shout came from his left side, breaking his concentration and causing him to release his grip on the arrow, which sailed recklessly over the target and sank into the mud twenty yards behind it. Niccolo cursed before turning to see Lü Bu, the Horseman of Pestilence, whose oriental features were twisted in a malicious grin. "Oh, Niccolo, you absolute failure! Can't you hit the _target_ , at the very least?"

"If someone didn't break my concentration, maybe I wouldn't have missed so spectacularly," Niccolo muttered under his breath, but he tried to keep his opinion from the yellow and green Horseman. Lü Bu was known for being a proud man, prone to inflicting pain on anyone who did not respect him. "I'm sorry, sir," Niccolo offered, trying to swallow his own pride, "it's still difficult to aim with one eye."

"Pathetic," Lü Bu said as he walked up to Niccolo's side and peered down the training yard, "really just pathetic. You've been here far too long to be this terrible, Niccolo. You're only forty yards away and you only hit the target twice! I could hit that bull's eye three times while looking at _you_ ," he said with a scoff, shaking his head in disapproval. Niccolo wanted to slap him in the face, perhaps rake his new claws against the shorter man's features, but he just held the bow tighter with his diseased hand.

"I'm doing what I can, Horseman. That's why I came here past training hours," Niccolo explained, but Lü Bu breathed out heavily before stepping up to Niccolo's face.

"You should work harder, then. I don't need a man who can't sink an arrow into his enemy's body from a stone's throw away. When the Apocalypse happens, I need true warriors by my side, true _men_ who are worth a damn. In your current state, your only use is as a meat shield I can use against my opponents," the Horseman said before stepping back and waving his hands up and down Niccolo's body. "I mean, look at you!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Niccolo said, trying to hold back his anger toward the legendary warrior. Lü Bu had been a hero during a war of three kingdoms, but Niccolo did not appreciate the man's insults. Niccolo looked to the muddy ground of the clearing and tried to ignore the warrior's laughter.

"That's right! You can't because of the one eye, but let me tell you what I see, Niccolo," he said before grabbing Niccolo's chin and forcing him to look into his narrow eyes. "I see a waste of humanity. That you had a strong enough soul to make it down here is completely ludicrous. It's _absurd_. There must have been a mistake, because someone like you deserves oblivion."

At that, Niccolo could take no more insults, so he head-butted the smaller man before dropping his bow and diving at the warrior with the claws of his diseased hand. Before Niccolo could react, Lü Bu stepped behind him and grabbed the spear on his back before thrusting it into the soft meat of Niccolo's right leg.

"I should have you killed for that, Niccolo," Lü Bu snarled, twisting the blade that was buried in the young assassin's leg. Niccolo fell to the ground, grimacing in pain, and felt more than just a little shame. When Lü Bu twisted the blade again, Niccolo cried out and turned his body to kneel before the Horseman.

"I'm sorry, sir! I'm...sorry. I shouldn't have done that," he explained, the pain in his calf burning its way up his leg. Niccolo heard a disgusted sigh before the spear was withdrawn, followed by a kick to Niccolo's head which caused him to roll along the ground.

"Just _pathetic_. You don't even have the balls to continue your attack, just because you're wounded. Niccolo, look at me when I'm talking to you," Lü Bu said, standing triumphantly with his spear in his right hand and sneering at the leper at his feet. Niccolo turned over and then propped himself up on his knees, the pain in his leg still aching as it started to heal. As he looked up at the smaller man, Lü Bu breathed in and gathered a bit of mucus before spitting on the leper's face. In his disgrace, Niccolo did nothing in reaction.

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Lü Bu said before reaching behind him and setting his spear into the straps that held it on his back. Although he was supposed to be the Horseman known for archery, Lü Bu rarely ever used the hell-forged bow on his back, which seemed like such a waste to Niccolo. He watched as Lü Bu then lazily pointed at the stables to their left and shook his head. "In my mercy, Niccolo, I won't kill you. To tell you the truth, I just don't want to deal with Barbas whining at me; you're lucky he likes you. Now go to the stables and clean up after Plague. He's made the place filthy."

"I thought that you were in charge of..." Niccolo started, feeling the tissue of his leg joining back together, but then his face whipped around and burned with pain. It took him a moment to realize Lü Bu had slapped him.

"I am in charge of it, but I'm also in charge of _you_ , Niccolo. Consider this your punishment for trying to attack me. Now go before I change my mind," Lü Bu said while staring down at him, intent on watching Niccolo sulk away. The assassin tried to keep in his anger and then made off toward the stables at the edge of the training yard, feeling Lü Bu's eyes on him the entire time. He cursed himself for the wild strike, knowing that the Horseman had been goading him on for this purpose; Lü Bu was just bored. As he made his way to the stables, Niccolo hoped that Lü Bu's horse had not made too much of a mess.

Niccolo had not made his way to the afterlife just to shovel up manure, after all.

***

The smell was so offensive that Niccolo was actually grateful that he had gotten used to the smell of his own rotting flesh. When he got to the stables, he could almost _see_ the particles of diseased filth floating about him and briefly thought about retreating and allowing Lü Bu to end his suffering with a well-placed spear. After he started to get used to the smell, his eyes fell on the black horse standing in the alcove surrounded by his own refuse, the green sores on its side reminding Niccolo of his own malady. One look into the creature's eyes, which leaked out a green fog, was enough to cause an avalanche of sympathy in the young archer.

Niccolo mustered his courage and wrapped his red tunic around his mouth and nose, exposing his ruined left side to the foul air. If he had ever worried about an infection, this would be the time for it, but Niccolo was past such worries. In Hell, he never seemed to get sick, never seemed to suffer any physical maladies for more than a few moments. The only lasting wounds were the ones given to him as he was bathed in fire, as his bones and tissues rearranged to give him a monstrous arm.

While he set about removing all of the manure from the stables, Niccolo felt the horse staring at him. Every once in a while his eyes would drift to the green embers of Lü Bu's steed, but Niccolo would turn away after a moment. He felt silly, thinking a beast of Hell would be able to understand his actions, and continued to bury his shovel into the filth for a good part of an hour. The mud outside of the stables was covered in manure by the end of it, but he figured that was not really his problem. Lü Bu had only asked him to clean the stables and had not been specific about _where_ the filth was moved.

When Niccolo buried the shovel back into the mud, he was satisfied to see the stables were in much better condition. He tentatively unwrapped his tunic from his mouth and nose, wondering if he had ever been so foolish, and then tried to breathe in. Though still rotten, the intensity was far less harmful on his senses, so Niccolo felt like he had accomplished something. Even better, now he did not have to get a spear buried into his gut.

The assassin was about to leave when he felt someone watching him again. When he looked over his shoulder, he found the black horse was still looking at him. Niccolo tried to justify the beast's interest in him and fell upon the obvious; he was the only other thing in the stable. Niccolo had always thought it rather wasteful to have an entire building devoted to one horse, but then again, it was one of the harbingers of the apocalypse. When he looked over the stallion, which had cocked its head to the side, Niccolo was filled with sympathy once more. It was not the animal's fault that its master was an arrogant warrior from the second century; it was not the horse's fault that Lü Bu deserved a horrible fate for his behavior.

Niccolo walked over to the great creature and put out his hand, trying to comfort the beast as he approached. He remembered his days in Firenze and how his father had provided a horse for him, one which he had ignored as his thoughts of childish glee were replaced with thoughts of women and money. Carlo had thought it important that Niccolo took care of the beast and cleaned out its hooves to learn the importance of hard labor, and in his youth it had become one of Niccolo's favorite activities. There was a simplicity to it; something he had lost in the years before his exile.

There was absolutely no way a man like Lü Bu would have deigned to clean his horse's hooves and remove stones and clods that would surely hurt the animal. Niccolo continued to approach the animal with his hand stretched forward, confused that the beast was not nervous but instead looked at him with mild curiosity. When he was close enough, Niccolo extended his human hand and ran his fingers through the creature's sleek, black hair, avoiding the patches of skin ruined by disease.

"There, there. I'm just here to help. Just here to get rid of your shit and clean your hooves, alright? Your master is an asshole, but you seem decent enough," Niccolo said in a soft, gentle tone, stroking the creature's hair with a delicate touch. The statement was more for him than the horse, but when the horse's burning green eye looked at him, Niccolo felt like he had been understood. Niccolo put the thought out of his mind and then crouched down before lifting the creature's front hoof.

As he expected, there were plenty of obstructions buried in the dirt and mud that had been packed into the horse's hooves, so Niccolo took a short knife from his belt and set to work. From Plague's front leg, Niccolo found two stones and a number of small sticks stuck in a clod of mud, but as he set about the rest of the hooves, he found a number of disconcerting objects. In his final count, Niccolo found three finger bones, a fragment of a clavicle, and what looked to be a small bit of skull. He had to wonder what Lü Bu was doing in his spare time.

Niccolo sighed deeply before standing up and rubbing his hand along Plague's shining coat, wondering if there was a brush nearby. As he set about trying to find something he could use, a booming voice echoed through his eardrums and mind.

"You're a curious one," it said, causing Niccolo to turn around quickly to find whoever had been watching him. He exited the horse's alcove to find no one in sight and Niccolo's face twisted in confusion. Niccolo had heard that a number of demons could turn invisible, but he wondered why any creature would want to play tricks on him. He was a nobody.

"Come out, I don't have the patience for this," he said with a hostile tone, determined to avoid this ridicule.

"From what I've seen, you have your fair share of patience," the voice came again, causing Niccolo to whip around in panic. Whatever creature was watching him was not making this easy.

"Enough's _enough_ , alright? Just show yourself so we can get on with this!" he shouted, his eye narrowing as he glared into the dark corners of the stables. Immediately he was answered by a tired chuckle.

"Alright, then, I'll take that back about the patience. Turn around, little man, and we'll hash this out," the deep voice reverberated throughout the stable. Niccolo stopped his wild motions and realized there _was_ something there with him in the stables. He turned around slowly to find that the black horse was staring right at him.

"Wait..." he said, which made the horse whinny and paw the ground in response.

" _There_ you go," the deep voice came again, complemented by a wink from the beast.

"You can't expect me to believe that a horse is talking to me," Niccolo said with skepticism, but then the animal's eyes drew to slits and its nostrils flared.

"Why the _hell_ not, little man?" it asked, walking out of the alcove and making Niccolo's spirit sink. Instead of drawing back in fear, he just stood there as the horse approached.

"I guess anything is possible," he started before crossing his arms, determined to keep his thoughts from being obvious. "I haven't been in Hell long."

"I can see that," Plague's voice seemed to echo inside of Niccolo's skull, its massive face only a foot away from Niccolo's own. "Five years is barely an introduction."

"How do you know how long I've been here?" Niccolo asked with some hostility, which drew a light chuckle from the creature.

"Oh, Niccolo, you're _precious_ ," it said before drawing back slightly and shaking its head, the black hair of its mane falling to the left side of its neck. "I'm one of those mind readers you're so skeptical of."

"You..." Niccolo started, flustered by the creature's knowledge. Immediately he stepped forward to cover the distance between them and raised his diseased index finger to point into the horse's face. "What are you doing in my mind? Who gave you the permission to do that?!"

"Oh, little man, you are just _too_ amusing!" the horse seemed to shout, standing over the leper and meeting the man's arrogance with respect. "Who says I need permission to do _anything_? I'm one of the Horses that bring on the Apocalypse!"

"Well, it's not the Apocalypse _yet_ ," Niccolo said, offended by the creature's intrusion into his mind. He stepped back and fixed a frown on the black horse. "You ever heard of manners?"

"Oh, I _like_ you," Plague said, the green fog flowing out of his eyes. "You don't shirk away from talking to me at all. You don't think it's odd to be speaking to a beast destined to end the world."

"I mean..." Niccolo said, pacing in front of the creature before shrugging. "First off, that's not your fault," he addressed the creature before settling his back against one of the opposite barriers. "I can't hold you responsible for what you _might_ do. It's just, well, I...look, you surprised me, all right? I thought I was just taking care of Lü Bu's horse, and then a voice came out of nowhere..."

"You thought someone was playing a trick on you," the horse added, which made Niccolo nod before continuing.

"Yeah. And then I got flustered and... I'm sorry," Niccolo said before looking away, which caused the horse to approach him.

"Why?" it asked, its face only a few inches away from Niccolo's own. Somehow, the leper was not afraid now that it had gotten so close.

"I didn't mean to speak to you with such...familiarity. I'm sorry for thinking you were a brainless creature. I didn't know," he said, his eyes looking toward the exit so that he would not have to deal with the horse's impending insults directly. He was shocked to feel the horse's nose against his cheek, forcing him to look at it before it stepped back and stamped the ground.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, little man. _I'm_ sorry I shit all over the floor," it said with a light chuckle, which made Niccolo shake his head in confusion.

"Wait...what?" he asked, the horse motioning around him with its head before replying.

"I don't need to do that _at all;_ I just do it to annoy that Chinese bastard. Since the Horseman doesn't respect his horse, his horse doesn't respect him," it said before looking to the entrance and staring at the pile of rotten manure. "I had no idea he would force you to clean up my mess, so I'm sorry you had to deal with it."

"You're... _sorry_?" Niccolo asked, unable to believe what was happening, but soon the creature turned to look at him.

"It's not unheard of, little man. Even the strongest and smartest make mistakes from time to time. Next time Lü Bu tells you to clean up the stables, tell him to fuck off," Plague said lightly before winking at Niccolo. "He can clean up his own mess."

"I can't really do that," Niccolo said before crossing his arms. "He's the Horseman of Pestilence. He's in charge."

"If anybody is in charge, Niccolo," Plague said before snorting and flaring his nostrils, "it's Barbas, and from what I've seen in your memories, the fallen prefers you over my master."

"He's," Niccolo faltered before looking into the horse's burning green eyes, "Lü Bu's a great warrior, Plague. Asshole, terrible man, but he's far more powerful and he could kill me in an instant." As he finished the statement, the dark horse stood over him. Niccolo realized he should have been terrified by the creature, but its presence only brought comfort. When Plague lowered his left eye to stare at Niccolo, he almost felt a kinship with the hell beast.

"Don't second-guess yourself, little man. There's more to you than you know."

***

Pain enveloped Niccolo again as he felt the fire flowing around him and searing his skin. He could even smell his flesh as it cooked, but the infernal pain was nothing to what was happening on his arm. It broke and twisted in front of him, bending in unnatural ways and coiling around itself. Eventually the hand turned on its owner and dove against his face, tearing away his skin and causing blood to leak out of him, crimson streams defying gravity and flowing toward the rocky ceiling of Hell. Niccolo screamed as his mutated appendage struck him again and again, flensing the maimed skin from his face before coiling back above him. It dove toward his chest, its cruel black claws sinking into his ribcage, and the last thing he felt was the points of four vicious fingers entering his heart.

"Niccolo, you get up right now!" a shout came from the ether, jolting Niccolo back toward consciousness and forcing him to sit up in his cot. The young soul was breathing heavily as he looked around the barracks, a building he shared with dozens of new recruits. Although they trained with Niccolo for the Apocalypse, the assassin had never felt a kinship with any of those lost souls. "Get your clothes on and grab your weapon, you lazy ass!"

Niccolo looked to his left to see Barbas approaching him, his cane tapping against the stone floor. Instantly, the young soul felt ashamed, as Barbas would not have come to get him for no reason. Niccolo rubbed the sleep out of his eye before swinging his legs out of his cot.

"I'm sorry, old man, I'll get out there soon," he said before stretching, but he drew his hand back as Barbas' cane rapped against his demonic knuckles. Niccolo looked at the old man, offended by his actions, but the look on Barbas' face was enough to force the words back into his throat.

"You _better_ , Nico. Lucifer came to watch the drills today. I won't have you proving to the others that I'm not doing my job," the old man said, using his cane to hold up his weight, both of his hands on the knobby branch.

"What, _why_? What does _he_ care?" Niccolo asked as he jumped out of his bed and set about putting on his clothes. He had learned soon after his fall that he needed to be intimidating to the other recruits, they were not the nicest of folk, so he slept without his tunic in order to display his scars and twisted arm for effect.

No one ever bothered him.

"You know _why_ , you child. He wants to make sure we're ready, and having one of my recruits sleeping in during the drills does not exactly look good. I run a tight ship, Nico," he said before pointing a gnarled finger at the assassin, but Niccolo had to laugh at that.

"Oh, _please_ , you're a pushover, Barbas."

"And Lucifer doesn't need to _know_ that," the old man said gruffly, watching Niccolo wrap the belt around his tunic. After just a moment of observing Niccolo, Barbas' expression softened and he wrapped his fingers around the end of his cane. "Why didn't you wake up, Nico?"

"It was the dream again," Niccolo let out weakly, confident Barbas would know exactly what he meant. The old man had nursed him back to health after his fall; Barbas said he had never seen anything like it and, from his behavior, Niccolo believed it. Since those first few days, Barbas had become the uncle Niccolo never had during his first life. The fallen angel made him feel like he belonged somewhere.

"Into the heart again?" Barbas asked before sitting down on Niccolo's cot. Though it contradicted his earlier behavior, the old man would not rush his pupil through this pain. Niccolo grabbed his boots and sat down before looking at Barbas and nodding. He put his feet inside his boots and sighed.

"I don't know why it keeps happening," he said before looking down at his twisted arm. The skin was mottled green, yellow and brown, slick without being wet, but the claws were the most disturbing aspect. Niccolo had torn through walls with his fingers and cut open beasts with an errant slap. Somehow he had become more of a monster.

"It was traumatic, Nico," Barbas said as he patted the young soul's back with his left hand. "We don't choose our memories; there's no rhyme or reason to what remains with us. We just move on," he said before using his cane to stand back up. "Now, come on, the Devil is waiting."

"Yeah, yeah," Niccolo said before pushing off the bed and retrieving the long bow from the chest at the end of his bed. "There's a lot of strange stuff happening now, though."

"Oh?" Barbas asked, walking a few steps ahead of Niccolo. "Like what?"

"Well, Lucifer showing up to watch our drills, for instance," Niccolo said before yawning and running his nails against his scalp. "And Plague talked to me yesterday." Niccolo had closed his eyes during his yawn and had not expected to walk into his mentor's back, but when he gathered himself after the impact, he noticed Barbas eyeing him suspiciously.

" _Who_ talked to you?" he asked, his thumb running over the curved edge of his cane. Niccolo shrugged before walking past the old demon, prompting Barbas to walk alongside him.

"Plague, Lü Bu's horse. It was the weirdest thing, I didn't know beasts from Hell cold talk," Niccolo said absent-mindedly, inspecting his bow out of habit.

" _They_ can't," Barbas said, staring ahead of them, his mind clearly elsewhere. The young soul turned to look at his mentor, his mouth agape in confusion.

"But, I heard him," Niccolo protested, drawing a sharp breath from the man in the grey robes.

"Plague...isn't just an animal. Well, _technically_ he is, but he's a bit more than that. All the horses are."

"Because they're part of the Apocalypse," Niccolo offered, thinking he had figured it out.

"Yes and no, Nico. Everyone in Dis is practically part of the Apocalypse. When the horses were created, they were granted...parts of souls. They can think, they can speak, they can even reason, but most of their power comes from latching onto the strength of their Horsemen. Usually they draw traits from their masters, like Mercy or Despair, so you can see part of that," Barbas explained, wrinkling his nose as they entered the cool air of the training yard. Niccolo could see that all of the archers were showing off their best as a pair of fallen angels looked on. The young archer tried not to look at them partly out of shame, but mostly just to escape notice.

"Ah, alright. I guess I'm not so worried about it, then," Niccolo said before taking a moment to string his bow, pulling the string back a number of times to relax the tension. When he started walking again, he noticed that Barbas was not moving.

"Could be nothing, you're right," the old demon said before resuming his movement toward the crowd of demon onlookers. "Though I will say that Plague has yet to speak to Lü Bu, and they have been paired together for centuries. Now," he said before pointed his withered finger at the field, "take the fifth target, Nico. And try to hit it at least once." Niccolo would have been offended, but the old demon concluded his statement with a wink. Thinking fondly of his master, Niccolo just smiled and shook his head before walking to his position.

If anyone in Hell was allowed to mock him, it was that old demon walking up to the ruler of Hell.

***

"How do you like the new archers, Scratch?" Barbas asked as he walked up to Lucifer. The fallen angel had to sigh at his old friend, setting a hand on his hip as he turned to face him.

"Will you _stop_ with that nickname? You and Paimon are the only ones who still use it," he said before looking out to the archers training in the yard. Barbas walked up to his side and then set his cane against the mud in front of him.

"When it stops bothering you, I'll stop using it," he said with a coy smile. "So do you think they will be any use during the Apocalypse?"

"Doubtful," Azazel said with a lazy tone, stepping forward so that Barbas could see him past Lucifer. "Some of them are missing the target completely."

"They're children, Zell," Barbas argued, but soon he sighed, "but you're right. It's so difficult to teach them anything after death. It's like their brains don't work anymore."

"They're not true brains anymore, Barbas," Lucifer said before breathing in deeply and looking at Barbas. "I don't see them killing many angels."

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" Barbas asked wearily. "I can only tell them to practice so much."

"You are the leader of the Pestilence Quarter, ya old bastard!" Azazel said with a scoff. "You could tell them to practice more than _that_. Look at that one," he said before motioning at the field with his tail. "He hasn't hit the bull's eye even once."

"Which one?" Barbas asked, squinting at the blindfolded demon's choice. Azazel then sighed before walking to Barbas' side and wrapped his fingers around the old demon's wrist, using his finger to point at the fifth archer in line.

" _That_ one. What's his excuse?" Azazel asked before relinquishing Barbas' wrist and yawning, bored by his sibling's training exercise.

"He's," Barbas said, wondering what excuses he could make for Niccolo, "he's going through some troublesome changes."

"Uh, yeah, that happens. Hell and all," Azazel said as he licked his lips and cocked his head to the side. "What makes him so special?"

"He only had one eye in life and he's still getting used to, well, his new sight," the old demon said, which caused Azazel to scoff.

"You're telling me he's crippled by being _better_ than he used to be? Buddy, you can do better than that," Azazel said, cracking his neck before turning to Lucifer. "This is why the archers aren't impressive, Lucy."

"It's not his fault, Zell," Barbas explained in frustration. He gripped his staff tighter before waving it around the dozen archers at work. "They haven't had to deal with the same issues."

"What issues?" Lucifer asked, breaking into the conversation. Barbas' mouth opened in shock a number of times before he could respond.

"He...it's just different," Barbas said before turning and looking out on his students, focusing on the poor boy with the mangled arm. His thoughts returned to their conversation, about how Plague had chosen to speak to Niccolo. With that revelation, Barbas knew there was more to the child, especially if his suspicions were correct.

As he watched the scene play out in front of him, Barbas knew that they were.

***

Niccolo let go of the string and saw the arrow strike the outer circle of the target, causing the archer to grimace. If he could not reclaim his accuracy while Lucifer was watching, he did not have much hope to ever recover. He shook his head, ignoring the negative thoughts in his mind, and drew another arrow from his quiver.

"You can do better, Niccolo," Lü Bu said from a few yards away. Niccolo turned to look at the man, seated atop his horse, and saw the sneer in his features. The assassin had always hated Lü Bu, but for the last three weeks his behavior had gotten worse and worse. As Niccolo turned back to look at his target, he reminded himself that it was likely warranted. Although he had not picked any fights with the warrior, lately, Niccolo had become more antagonistic with his words.

"I can," Niccolo said, "but I don't want to make the other guys look bad."

"So you make them look good in comparison? I dare say that you have done that job well," Lü Bu said with a laugh. "How about you actually hit a bull's eye for once? That would be a nice change."

"Like this?" Niccolo asked, loosing the arrow before turning to glare at the Horseman. He could see the Lü Bu's face twist in anger before crossing his arms and knew that he had hit his mark, so he instead turned his gaze toward the black horse. From the wink of its green eye, Niccolo knew that Plague appreciated the gesture.

"A lucky shot, Niccolo. Do it again," he goaded, prompting Niccolo to turn around and try once more. He drew another arrow from his quiver and nocked it against the string, breathing in deeply before pulling it back. Just before he let go of the wooden shaft, he felt something strike the back of his knee, forcing him to fall into the mud and shoot the arrow deep into the Pestilence Quarter.

"Now you see, Niccolo! It was just a _fluke_!" Lü Bu shouted after drawing back the handle of his spear, shoving his boot into Niccolo's back and causing him to fume in anger.

"Get the fuck off me, you bastard!" Niccolo shouted, but the warrior continued to giggle while standing on his back.

"That is no way to talk to your superior officer, peasant! Beg for your life," he threatened with glee, but Niccolo was not going to entertain him any longer. He reached behind him with his demonic arm and found the back of Lü Bu's leg before digging his black nails into the man's flesh. His actions were met with a shrill scream and a sudden release of weight from his back, causing Niccolo to smile. He turned over and picked himself up before seeing the warrior's face filled with fury.

"I don't care anymore, Niccolo. I don't care if you're Barbas' favorite. _Now_ you get to suffer," he said before advancing on Niccolo's position.

It only took a moment before Niccolo realized one of them was going to die that day.

***

"Stop, you two!" Barbas yelled from Lucifer's side, but neither warrior was paying attention to their teacher. On the field in front of them, Niccolo brought out the short blade out of his scabbard and dived out of the way of Lü Bu's first thrust, a strike that would have sank into the meat of Niccolo's chest.

"I said st-" Barbas started to yell, but he found a white arm stretched across his chest. He looked to his right to find Lucifer looking at him with concern.

"Humans die, old friend. Who are you to get in the way of it?" he asked, but that just caused Barbas' face to contort with anger.

"I don't need to be lectured by the likes of you, _Scratch_. This one is important to me and I don't want him to die," he explained, hearing the clash of steel in the background. The Devil shrugged before looking toward the pair of humans engaged in violence.

"He'll live if he's meant to, Barbas," he said, seemingly ending their conversation. Barbas would have fought further, but when he heard a cry of pain, the old demon was filled with worry. He turned quickly to see that Niccolo was kneeling, Lü Bu's spear point sunk into the meat of Niccolo's shoulder. Lucifer sighed before lowering his arm. "And perhaps he's not meant to."

"Niccolo," Barbas said under his breath, lowering his gaze to the ground. He had not thought it would end this way. Then he heard a grunt from the field and a cry of surprise from Azazel.

"Whoa, that came out of nowhere!"

***

Niccolo felt the spear yank out of his shoulder before he realized what had happened. Lü Bu had been standing over him, his spear having found its target easily, and was insulting his enemy.

"How easy this was, Niccolo. I wanted more," he had teased, but Lü Bu had not expected the horse hoof that rocketed into his ribcage. Niccolo was dumbfounded by the event, he had thought he was about to die, but during Lü Bu's jest, Plague had ran over, turned, and then threw his leg into his master, sending the man rolling into the mud. When he finally absorbed what had happened, Niccolo turned to the horse in amazement.

"Why did you..." he started to ask, but the horse scoffed at the question.

"Felt like it. Fucker deserved it," he boomed, but he was interrupted by the angry yell of the Chinese warrior covered in mud.

" _What_ have you done to my horse?" Lü Bu screamed, his eyes turned to slits.

" _You_ did it, Lü Bu," Plague shouted, causing the Horseman to stare at him in wonder. "That's for all the _goddamned_ abuse. You don't need to kick my sides to make me move. Shit hurts, motherfucker!"

"Are you talking to _me_?" Lü Bu asked, stalking toward the black horse.

"I think that's pretty fucking obvious," Plague said, the green fog pouring out of his eyes before he turned to Niccolo. "He's kinda dense, isn't he?"

"You talk to that peasant, you give him your respect, but you don't talk to _me_?" Lü Bu screamed, holding his spear with hands shaking in anger. "The _impudence_!"

"Didn't see the point in talking to _you_ ," Plague teased, shaking its head from side to side and its mane falling to the left side of its neck. "Not really worth my time."

"You insult your master," Lü Bu said as he started toward his horse, his grip so tight that the skin around his knuckles had turned white. "And then you save _his_ life!" he screamed before running at Plague, his spear held forward. "I will kill you where you stand!"

Niccolo had watched as the Horseman and his horse bickered, but when Lü Bu broke into a run, he did not know how to react. He kneeled there in the mud for a moment, the wound in his shoulder already healing, and watched the black horse standing there waiting. Niccolo wordlessly urged the beast to move, to do something to avoid its fate, but Plague stood there, his hooves buried in the mud of the clearing.

Suddenly Niccolo could not take it. He could not accept that this self-righteous warrior, who did not deserve his position in the first place, was about to kill a _mostly_ innocent animal. Niccolo would not let Plague die like that, would not let him die just because of Lü Bu's arrogance. His feet slipped in the mud as he started toward them, but eventually his boots found purchase and Niccolo was scrambling toward the resolute horse and the murderous warrior.

He clenched his diseased fist and felt his anger pouring out of him, anger he had held back for years. Anger for all of the events in Firenze, anger for all of the betrayals, anger for his misfortune. He felt it all burning out of him through his palm and did not even notice that something had started to solidify underneath his fingers. As he dove toward the empty space between Plague and Lü Bu, Niccolo tried to strike out with his demonic arm.

He was just as surprised as their demonic onlookers when the clash of metal against metal rang through the air, Lü Bu's spear tumbling end over end before sinking point-first into the mud behind him. Niccolo was still breathing hard, his anger still coursing through his veins, before he looked down to his arm and found a gleaming, green bastard sword held in his grip.

"What the hell," he muttered, but his thoughts were interrupted by the smaller man who had been flung backward into the mud.

"Where did you get that, leper?" Lü Bu asked before pushing himself up to his feet, spitting up wet soil from his mouth. "Funny trick."

"I don't know what..." Niccolo started before turning to Plague, who had approached him in his distraction. He did not know why, but Niccolo felt like the horse was pleased.

"I told you, little man. There's more to you than you know," the creature said with its version of a wink. Niccolo almost laughed at that, though he did not have time to enjoy this new development, as Lü Bu had reclaimed his spear.

"No matter! You'll die the same!" he shouted behind them, causing Niccolo to turn around in panic. He only just deflected the wild thrust toward his chest by throwing the blade across his body. Although the spear sailed past his shoulder, Lü Bu used the opportunity to force his foot into Niccolo's midsection, pushing him backward.

Instead of falling over, Niccolo adjusted his footing and slid along the ground, creating a wake of mud as he went. With this new weapon came a surge of confidence, and instead of a nervous, young soul, Lü Bu was met with the fierce warrior who had been trained in Napoli. When Lü Bu threw his arm forward, determined to impale Niccolo on his spear, the assassin grabbed the handle of his sword with both hands and swung upward, knocking the dangerous weapon toward the sky. He then brought his new blade down and ran it along Lü Bu's torso, using the Horseman's own momentum against him and causing a deep gash in the man's leather armor.

Niccolo smiled as he went to work, remembering his training and forgetting the difficulties he had encountered in the last five years. He spun around quickly before aiming a horizontal slash at his enemy, but Lü Bu was not just another thug, the warrior had recovered from Niccolo's blow quickly. Lü Bu planted the end of his spear into the ground and used his own weight to stop Niccolo's sword midway through its arc.

Though stunned by the sudden reversal, Niccolo kept hold of his blade and gripped it tightly with his right hand as Lü Bu thrust his weapon forward with his left arm. The point of the spear flew just past Niccolo's left ear, but he kept his mind about him and reached forward with his left hand. Though Lü Bu head-butted him in retaliation, breaking Niccolo's nose in the process, the leper was exactly where he wanted to be. He turned the nails of his demonic hand toward the inside of Lü Bu's left arm, drawing it back to sickening effect.

Lü Bu screamed, the pain forcing him out of the battle. Niccolo then swung his bastard sword down against the handle of the spear, easily knocking it out of the warrior's wounded arm. Only after he had disarmed the Horseman did Niccolo look down at his work, finding that his nails had been more effective than he thought they would ever be.

Not only had Lü Bu's green bracer been torn off of his arm, blood gushed out of the deep lacerations that Niccolo had made into his flesh. Pieces of bone had been torn out in the effort, almost making Niccolo sick to his stomach, but all thoughts of concern were pushed out of his mind when Lü Bu looked up at him, the rage making his entire body shake.

"You will pay, you fucking peasant! I AM THE HORSEMAN OF PESTILENCE!" he shouted before reaching down with his right hand to find the knife on his belt. Niccolo did not even have to think about what he needed to do; the dream which had haunted him came to his mind in an instant.

In an instant, the assassin threw his hand into Lü Bu's chest, tearing through the man's ribcage, and then squeezed. After he was confident that he held the warrior's heart in his hand, Niccolo looked past the man's narrow eyes and straight into his soul.

"Not anymore," he said before clenching his fist, feeling the soft muscle offer little resistance before popping, leaving Lü Bu to confront his terror. Niccolo closed his eye before withdrawing his hand and standing, feeling like he had finally accomplished something. He did not bother to look at the corpse before dropping the man's heart into the mud, turning to Plague, whose eyes flared with approval.

"About time, Nico," the creature said before slowly walking forward and lowering its neck, touching its forehead to Niccolo's own. The leper brought up his demonic arm and traced Plague's skull with his claws before laughing.

"Did you know it was going to be me?" he said with a smile, drawing back from his new friend. Plague's laughter echoed in his mind.

"I don't know what I would have done if it wasn't. If I had to live with that bastard another day, I probably would have killed myself," his deep voice echoed before Plague raised his head and looked toward their onlookers.

"Nico," Barbas said, causing the assassin to turn and find his mentor accompanied by two men he had never seen before that day. He knew he should have recognized them, but his mind was addled by all of the recent events.

"Barbas..." Niccolo started to explain, but he was interrupted by the old man's cane striking him in the stomach.

"You be that stupid again and see what happens!" Barbas shouted, but a gentle hand fell onto his old shoulder. Niccolo recovered from his mentor knocking the air out of him to see the pale man scoffing at Barbas.

"He won, old friend, I wouldn't necessarily call that stupid."

"Scratch," Barbas argued, "he got lucky. The only reason he lived was because of Plague."

"That's not luck," said as the demon with goat hooves approached them. "There are only three other people in Hell who could pull off something like that."

"Scratch?" Niccolo asked, confused by the name. When the pale angel stepped closer to him, Niccolo suddenly remembered what was happening, suddenly remembered who was watching.

"Goddamnit, Barbas," Lucifer said before turning slightly toward the old demon, "if this becomes a habit, I'm blaming you."

"You love it," Azazel added with a grin, causing Lucifer to groan in despair before looking down at Niccolo.

"So, it's Nico, is it?" he asked, making Niccolo nervous enough to bite his lip.

"Yeah, short for Niccolo," the leper confirmed before shifting his weight to his right foot.

"I'm Lucifer, if you couldn't tell. Nice to meet you," he said before offering his left hand toward the new Horseman. Niccolo stared at it for a moment before raising his diseased arm and shrugging.

"I'm not sure you want to touch this, Scratch," he said, trying to make light of the situation, but the joke caused Lucifer to close his eyes in annoyance. It was a tense moment before he looked over at Barbas, who was chuckling softly. Then, before Niccolo could apologize, the ruler of Hell turned back to him and sighed out deeply.

"So that's _that_ ," he said before shaking his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And I offered my left hand for a reason, Nico. You should not be ashamed of that arm of yours. It just saved your life."

"You're sure?" Niccolo asked, drawing a disgusted breath from Azazel.

"Oh, get _on_ with it! We have to get back to the palace," he said before turning and walking toward the center of the city. Niccolo looked at him in confusion before lowering his arm and shaking Lucifer's extended hand.

"Why do you have to get back to the palace?" he asked, making Lucifer laugh at his ignorance.

" _We_ have to get back to the palace, kid. In case you haven't heard, there's a new Horseman of the Apocalypse."

# Chapter 13: A Beast As Old As Time

"How much further is it?" Cadmus asked as Mercy galloped beneath him. He laid his left hand across the white horse's neck, trying to soothe the beast as it tore through the streets of the Famine Quarter. However, Mercy's mind seemed to be shut off from him because of all the effort he was putting forth.

"It should not be much further," Cimeries said in a clipped manner, her left arm wrapped around Niccolo's torso tightly, the pike in her other hand held by their right side. At first, Niccolo had been anxious about the woman's weapon, but she knew how to wield it with confidence.

"Well, _how_ much further?" Niccolo asked in desperation, taking care not to bite his tongue.

"I will tell you when I see it..." Cimeries said under her breath, drawing a frustrated grunt from Niccolo.

"Why did Scratch tell you and only you, Cim?" Niccolo asked, and suddenly the Hell Knight's short nails were at his throat.

"He is one of very few people who I allow that name, Horseman. Take mind," she said before lightly scratching his skin and then returning her arm to hug his midsection. Niccolo gulped, but he tried to muster his courage even with the warrior riding behind him.

"Fine. Why did he tell you?"

"There are some people a leader can trust and there are some he or she can't, Horseman," she explained before pointing with her pike toward a side road that began a hundred feet in front of them. "There."

"And he can trust you?" Niccolo asked, guiding Plague toward the side road that looked completely unimportant. The two horses continued at a gallop, their legs crashing through errant crates and stands. Cimeries growled behind the leper as she held onto him.

"He can. I, too, was a leader, and I know what it is like to be betrayed. Especially by family," she muttered at the end, forcing the woman into a new light.

When they reached the end of the street, the five of them were treated to the dark expanse of the empty plains surrounding Dis. It was a dark place, devoid of the life held in the city, and the only light came from the rivers of lava scattered throughout the landscape.

"What now?" Cadmus asked as he brought Mercy up beside them. Cimeries nodded ahead before waving her pike at the lava stream coming into view.

"Jump over this river and keep to the bank, eventually it will curve back on itself near a cave," she said, kicking Plague's side with her heels. The black horse screamed in surprise and anger before breaking into a gallop, prompting Mercy to follow him.

"Next time you do that, woman," Plague boomed before clearing the lava stream with a powerful leap, "you will pay _dearly_."

"Forgive me, creature. I had forgotten you were not a mindless beast," she said, prompting a cold grunt from the black steed.

"Well, don't forget this time. I won't break my promise," he said as he galloped past the volcanic rocks scattered in the dark plains. Each one of them held potential for the horses to break their legs, but Plague and Mercy deftly avoided them in the darkness. "And why the hell didn't we bring lanterns?"

"Not exactly on the list of priorities," Niccolo said before turning to the warrior cradling his torso. "You said a _cave_?"

"Yes, we need to follow the river until its bend and there will be a cave nestled into the hill. That is where Moloch dwells," she said, prompting Cadmus to speak up from beside them.

"You said he's like God?" he asked, making the woman shift in the saddle.

"Not as powerful, reaper, but yes, he's similar to Adonai," she said before sighing and looking back at Dis. "He was never an angel; he is older than all of them."

"Then where did he come from?" Niccolo asked before turning to gaze at the ground speeding below them. His thoughts returned to Lucifer, but as he watched the dark soil and black rocks flying past his vision, he knew they were the only people who could hope to reach this Moloch in time.

"He... I am not sure. I have only met the creature once. He is...perhaps not beyond _God_ ," Cimeries struggled with the words, biting her lips before continuing. "Lucifer told me that it came from the same place."

"What same place?" Cadmus asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I am not sure, Horsemen," Cimeries said, somehow softening under their questions. "The closest comparison I can make is that the Leviathan came from a similar place."

"The Leviathan is not one of Adonai's creations, either?" Cadmus asked, at which the warrior shuddered.

"I should hope not. That twisted thing should not exist in the world," she muttered, making Niccolo look back at her in alarm.

"What is so bad about _it_?" he asked, drawing a quick glare from the warrior behind him. Cimeries then looked down at his back and kept her silence, not willing to think on the creature any longer. She was spared further questions as the lava stream bent away from them by a large degree, causing her to look around them for the hill.

"There!" she shouted before raising her pike to a small hill forty yards away from the bend, causing both Horsemen to hold back on their reins.

"So whatever he is, Moloch is in there?" Niccolo asked, leading Plague over to the hill that was only partially covered in the light from the lava stream. When they were close enough, Cimeries swung her leg over to Plague's right side and slid off, beckoning for both men to follow her with an absent wave of her hand.

"I should hope so. I do not believe he has many errands," Cimeries said before walking into the cave set into the hillside, holding her pike to ward off any surprises that could meet her. The Horsemen followed, their steeds disappearing into the wind behind them, and looked at each other with an air of apprehension.

The thought of meeting a being who could rival God was more than enough cause to warrant it.

***

There was a small brazier in the middle of the cave, the flames inside burning low and casting shadows onto the surroundings walls. After braving the steps into the darkness, the three warriors walked in trepidation into the inner circle of stones surrounding the brazier. The eleven monoliths were not just stones, it seemed, as they seemed to be shaped vaguely like humans, arranged in equal distance to each other. When Niccolo passed by the nearest one, he thought he recognized the face. The only thing stopping him from continuing with that train of thought was that the stone was too weathered, eroded by time, and that they had more important things to worry about.

"You said he could be out?" Niccolo asked as he looked around the cave in wonder, seeing massive tapestries filled with amazing detail that he could just barely pick out in the poor light coming from the brazier.

"I have no idea, Horseman," Cimeries said as she walked to the center of the room and put her back to the brazier, her pike held in front of her with both hands. "I am not party to the thoughts and habits of otherworldly creatures."

"Well, if he's not here, where could he be?" Cadmus asked to the empty air, worrying his scythe with his right hand but not holding it out in front of him. He did not want Moloch's first impression to be a band of warriors meaning harm. He looked past the inner circle of monoliths and found the cave was much more massive than he had thought. Though the closer walls held tapestries and there seemed to be steps leading up to them, it seemed that the cave opened out into a cavern further from the entrance. He was still staring at the tunnel leading away from them when he noticed movement to his left.

"There!" Niccolo said before taking the bow from his back and drawing back the string with an arrow he had grabbed from his quiver. There was something on the wall, hidden in flickering shadows, and he could see an oval mask moving about. It was alabaster white, seven triangles interlocked in a pattern which seemed vaguely familiar.

"You come to Moloch's home with weapons, humans? What makes you think they will hurt Moloch?" a strangely bored voice came from behind the mask, a heavy sigh somehow permeating throughout the statement.

"Moloch!" Cimeries said, proudly standing near the brazier and setting the handle of her pike against the sand at their feet. "We have met before! My name is Cimeries!"

"Moloch knows not this name," the voice came again, the mask increasing in size as it lowered toward Cimeries in the center of the room. "Have you another?"

"I..." the Hell Knight started before letting out a heavy breath. "I was once called Hippolyta. I was Queen of the Amazons before I was betrayed."

"Ah, this story sounds familiar," the creature said before drawing back toward the darkness and cocking its mask to the side. "But what does an Amazon want with Moloch?"

"Lucifer sent us," Cadmus said, bowing slightly to the white mask hovering above them. "He needs your help."

"You have much darkness around you, little one. Here," the nebulous creature said before the brazier in the center of the room burst into flames, the fire rising almost to the full height of the room. "Oh, it is the Pale Rider! No wonder Moloch did not see you well."

With the new flames burning up toward the ceiling, the Horsemen were finally able to see the full figure of Moloch. The mask covered the front of the monster's brown skull, which was fully proportional to the body flush against the curved wall and ceiling supporting his weight. Its hands and feet were each complemented by three fingers, set apart from each other like an equilateral triangle. Protruding from its back was a second pair of arms helping hold the creature to the wall.

"You recognize _me_?" Cadmus asked, his knuckles white from holding his scythe tightly, but he refused to display his nervousness. The massive creature started to climb down the closest wall, its mask turned toward Cadmus throughout its movement.

"Of course. You are one of the angel's little humans. The angel still thinks he can operate against his father and you are one of his pets!" it shouted before reaching the sand of the cave and then walking forward, using the knuckles of its four arms just like a primate.

"So you know me, too?" Niccolo asked, keeping his right hand on the arrow still nocked in his bow. When Moloch turned to face him with its mask, Niccolo felt like it was confused beneath the white stone. "Since I'm one of the Horsemen?"

" _Who_ are you?" it asked, turning its body so that it could inspect Niccolo further.

"I'm...I'm the Horseman of Pestilence," the leper offered, causing the creature to fall back onto its hind legs.

"Moloch thought that was a human named Lü Bu..." he said, bringing up one of his three-fingered hands to tap against his mask. Niccolo shifted in place awkwardly before setting the arrow and bow back into their place.

"I'm...new. I've only been a Horseman for two hundred years," Niccolo tried to make an excuse for the creature, which it readily took. It settled back down onto all six limbs and supported itself by folding its front arms in front of it.

"Ah, that would explain it. Moloch has not seen the angel for a few centuries, at least. Not since Hippolyta was here," Moloch said as it nodded at the Amazon standing by the brazier. "Are you one of the angel's pawns, too?"

"I...Scratch," Niccolo said before breathing in sharply and setting his hands on his hips, confronting the older creature directly, "Lucifer wouldn't use me as a pawn. Cadmus and I are friends. He counts on us," he pleaded, watching the older creature cock its mask to the side and then set the nail of its finger against its neck.

"Scratch..." it muttered before turning to Cadmus, who had walked up to Niccolo's side. "Interesting. You speak of the angel with favor."

"Why wouldn't we?" Niccolo asked, shrugging at the statement. "He looks out for everyone. He helps when he can."

"The angel does what he wants, even if he convinces himself otherwise. Moloch sees the truth of things," the masked creature said before looking toward Cimeries, the fire of the brazier reflecting off the smooth surface of its "face."

"We need you at the palace, Moloch," Cimeries said, nodding toward the entrance of the cave. "Lucifer told us to get you."

"Why should Moloch do anything for the angel king?" the creature said before drawing into itself, folding its limbs so that it could rest in comfort. "The angel owes Moloch favors; Moloch owes him nothing."

"We need you to help him!" Niccolo shouted, offering his hands palms outwards and shaking his head. "The rest of the kings are rising up and the Shroud is trying to take over!"

"Kings?" it asked before laughing, leaning its head against its right shoulder. "They are other angels, no more. That is the nature of angels. They rise when they feel more powerful than they are."

"They're pretty damn powerful," Niccolo said before crossing his arms and using his foot to trace a line in the sand in front of him.

"To a human, it must seem that way. Though," the creature said before leaning forward and extending its neck toward Niccolo, "not so much that _you_ should worry." It turned to Cadmus and tilted its head to the side. "Nor you."

"What are you talking about?" Cadmus asked, approaching the elder creature slowly. Its mask tilted to watch the Horseman walking forward.

"Do you not notice? No, Moloch supposes you do not. Interesting that the angel decided to take that route. Why are you here, in Moloch's cave?" it suddenly asked, turning to the other souls in his domain.

"Lucifer told us to get you," Niccolo said with annoyance, walking up to the nearest stone monolith and leaning against it. "And we don't have much time."

"Do not touch that stone," the creature said, its tone much more serious. It caused Niccolo to slowly remove himself and look at it before turning back to Moloch.

"Why?"

"That is a great symbol. There is power in it. Moloch put that power there, when the angels first came to Hell," it said, causing Cadmus to stop in his tracks and gesture toward the circle of stones.

"You set these here when Lucifer and the others retreated to Hell?" he asked, drawing the "gaze" of the masked creature. It nodded, shifting its upper arms so that he could gesture to the circle of monoliths.

"Yes. They allowed for the angels to stay here away from Adonai. The cousin was not happy with them at the beginning," it said before looking at Niccolo. "So do not touch Moloch's stones."

"They allowed for the angels to escape God's wrath?" Cadmus asked, his nervousness completely forgotten. "And you were here before the rebellion?" The masked creature drew back onto its hind legs before rocking back so that he was sitting before the three souls.

"Yes, eleven stones were created for the seal. Eleven souls were tied to the stones and their life gives the seal its power. Moloch helped the angel king and his followers, though they do not like the darkness like Moloch," he said before seeming to yawn, bringing one of its closed hands to the white mask before turning back to Cadmus. "Moloch has been here for much longer than the rebellion, human."

"So it's true," Niccolo muttered, drawing the attention of the massive creature. "You're like God."

"You are speaking of Adonai?" it asked before rising up and knuckle-walking toward the leper, stopping near the brazier and Cimeries in the center of the circle. "He is no god, though he might look like one to you. He is a... _cousin_."

"So...you're as powerful as...Adonai?" Cadmus asked behind him, causing the creature to straighten its back before curving backward, dropping its head so that the mask could answer Cadmus directly.

"No. Adonai is stronger. He ran, as well, but Moloch is small in comparison."

"These stones are important to you, Moloch?" Niccolo asked as a plan formed in his mind. The creature was still turning back to look at him as the handle of Niccolo's sword solidified in his left hand. Moloch was looking down at him as the green blade bubbled forth.

"They are important. It makes no difference if they are important to Moloch," it said, curling back down so that its knuckles fell against the sand.

"So if I destroy them, it's a bad thing, right?" Niccolo asked before bringing the edge of his blade against the surface of the rock.

"Do not touch the stone. It has power you do not understand," it said, the creature's voice lowering as it considered Niccolo's actions.

"We need you to come to the palace, Moloch. You can come back to your stones afterward. There is all of eternity to stare at eleven rocks, alright?" he said before drawing back his blade. "Your choice."

"Do not touch the stone, Horseman," it said, its upper arms motioning for him to stop. "Stone is more important to _you_ than Moloch."

"Well, let's just say I destroy this one and we'll figure it out from there," Niccolo said before swinging his blade forward, hoping that he was not doing anything _too_ foolish.

"Stop!" Cimeries shouted, but there was nothing the Amazon or the reaper could do to stop Niccolo's blade. Even Niccolo was helpless to stop its momentum as it sailed forward, the blade gleaming as it continued. The Horseman actually regretted his action as his sword inched closer to the white stone, but he was saved from his foolishness by the three-fingered hand which flew in front of his bastard sword and then wrapped around the blade. The sudden stop threw Niccolo slightly off balance, but he was more shocked by the white blood flowing out from the deep cut he had made into Moloch's finger.

"Foolish little soul," Moloch said before drawing his hand back, and with it Niccolo's sword, but he let go of the green blade before bringing his hand back to inspect the wound. "But now I see why the angel uses you as a pawn."

"We are not his _pawns_ ," Niccolo said, trying to regain his confidence after being completely stopped by the older creature, but he was met with an extended chuckle from Moloch as it turned over its finger.

"Perhaps not, human. Perhaps. Now, Moloch will go with you to the palace," it said before using its hands to walk toward the entrance of the cave.

"Just like that?" Cimeries asked, walking after the masked demon.

"Moloch does not want to kill interesting humans, but does not want stones to fall, either. Only way to stop foolish behavior is by giving in. Moloch will go with you," it said, not bothering to look back at the three humans. Cimeries looked at the Horsemen and shook her head, wondering how an audacious man like Niccolo had come to such a powerful position. After letting his sword dissolve into his arm, Niccolo looked back at Cadmus, who was still breathing heavily from the leper's actions, and decided not to push his luck with any humor. He could tell that the reaper did not approve.

Moloch exited the cave and sighed, thinking that it was strange to see humans who would go to such lengths to convince him of anything. That the new one was able to cut into his skin was most curious, as some of the so-called _kings_ did not have that power. He looked at his skin again before chuckling, wondering if the young soul could tell if the angel's life was tied to that stone he had almost destroyed. When he looked down at the humans at his side, he watched their faces intently. They all looked so horrified. That was because they were not thinking about the eleven monoliths in Moloch's cave.

They were just watching the flames rising from Lucifer's palace.

***

"C'mon, hurry!" Niccolo screamed, not being able to keep his composure any longer. A green mist exploded into the air, solidifying into an already galloping black horse which Niccolo spurred to go even faster. Plague did not argue this time, but increased his pace and set the ground flying beneath them. According to Räum's vision, they did not have time to lose.

Niccolo heard a rumbling coming from behind them and a series of shouts between Cimeries and Cadmus, but all he could think about was how they were too late. They did not bother to follow the lava stream this time around, Plague galloped directly toward the entrance to the Famine Quarter, his hooves landing recklessly among lava rock and mud and all of the other dark things hidden underneath them. The green light from Plague's eyes was the only thing they could see by.

It had to be enough.

Tears were streaming out of Niccolo's eyes, both the healthy and ruined ones, but he did not notice them falling down his cheeks. He just sniffed as the air whipped past him, Plague running fast enough that his skin started to warp from the pressure of the air flying by.

"Hurry, Plague," Niccolo said weakly, unable to keep up any pretense of masculinity or power. His horse understood; the beast somehow increased its speed and each time it struck the ground it seemed to leap forward an even greater distance.

_I'm trying, Nico. We won't let this happen_ , Plague's voice consoled him, the words coming with a distinct feeling of labor. As Niccolo wrapped his arms around the black horse's neck, he felt a greater affection for the beast than he thought possible. Except for Cadmus and Lucifer, there was no one more important to him.

The Horseman looked up after his embrace and was shocked to see a gleaming, white horse to his right. His face twisted in confusion, Niccolo looked over the man and the woman in the saddle, their faces made of stone. Soon, Cadmus made eye contact with the leper and gave a look of sympathy. He knew just what Niccolo was thinking and was determined to stop the events which were already coming to pass.

The rumbling increased in volume enough that Niccolo looked to his left, shocked by the appearance of Moloch, who was using his powerful arms and legs to throw himself forward, tumbling across the landscape with ease and causing Niccolo to reconsider his earlier actions. If things had gone differently, he might have had to fight the masked creature.

Due to the speed of their horses, they made it to the Famine Quarter within minutes of leaving Moloch's cave, Mercy and Plague's hooves thundering against the stones of the street so fast that it gave Niccolo a headache. That was nothing to Moloch's entrance, as the creature barreled into the house on the left and then made his way _through_ it with no effort, sending wooden frames and stonework crashing all around him. Niccolo watched the display with horror before Plague stopped galloping and almost broke his legs trying to arrest his momentum in such a short distance. Niccolo was about to ask what the horse was doing, but then felt the gnawing concern emanating from Plague. The leper looked up to see something he had not expected.

There, standing in the middle of the road, was a mob of demons and, in the middle of that group, a short woman next to a massive bear.

"There you are, human," Balam growled, exposing his goat teeth in his arrogance. "Did you think you were going to escape from me after that insult?"

"What are you doing here?" Cadmus asked, bringing his scythe down to his right side and holding Mercy's reins with his left hand. The woman in the tight, grey clothing stepped forward and cocked out her hip before purring.

"We're here to kill you, Horsemen. We've waited for a very long time to take power from Lucifer. A long, _long_ time. But honestly, they don't need _all_ of us up there," Viné said before pointing at the burning palace on the horizon. "Balam and I decided that it would be best to kill you before you could get back to your daddy."

"You traitors," Cimeries said before pushing off Mercy's saddle, landing in front of them before picking herself up and pointing the end of her pike toward the assembled demons. "Have you _no_ respect for your blood?"

"Why should we?" Balam said as he walked forward, the ground resonating with each step. "He led us down here and then left us to rot! _Now_ we're looking out for _us_."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Niccolo said before dropping to the ground, ignoring Plague's warnings in his mind. He grabbed the gnarled black bow from his back along with a pair of arrows, nocking them against the tense string. "Seems that honor is hard to find these days."

"Honor, human?" Balam roared, motioning for his men to walk forward. They were brutes, clearly from the barbarian tribes of Northern Europe, and they were holding massive clubs, axes and hammers. "It is not, and never _was,_ about _honor_."

"Lucifer was the one who lifted up you little humans, defying our father, and we felt like it was time to take our due," Viné said as she walked forward, the grey clothing somehow getting tighter as she walked. Her feline eyes flared as she approached. Silver blades grew out of her joints, those closest to the ground clinking against the stone. "For some of us, that little rebellion was just about power."

"Power we were not given," Balam said, cracking his neck before pawing at the ground with his left hand. "So now, since Lucifer has clearly failed us, we're _taking_ the power we deserve!"

"So this is just about taking over Hell?" Cimeries asked, warily advancing toward the hulking demons who were almost within striking distance, holding their clubs and axes with the intention of violence. Viné stopped in her tracks before looking at the beast beside her and laughing. When she turned back to her enemies, rows of cat fangs were descending from her gums.

" _Hardly_! This is about taking over Earth! We'll kill the necessary amount of kings and then we'll take over that paradise from your stinking, human filth!" she said before licking her lips and falling down to her hands and feet.

"Taking over Earth?" Niccolo asked, drawing back his string and aiming at the ursine demon foaming at the mouth. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"What are _you_ talking about, human? _You_ should know if you got Moloch," Balam said in confusion but soon it shook its head in frustration. "Enough of this! Get him!" he roared before pointing at Niccolo and the others, sending a wave of brutish demons toward them. Niccolo did not have the option of asking them anymore questions and set to loosing arrows at the approaching enemies. Balam's body was soon blocked by the arrival of his soldiers, so Niccolo just sent the dual arrows into the wall of flesh coming against them.

Though the arrows sank deep into the chest of an approaching soldier wielding a massive club which had sharp, volcanic stone moored into the petrified wood, Niccolo could tell from the demon's speed that arrows would be useless here. He formed the handle of his sword quickly but had to abandon any counter attack, as the heavy club fell down and crashed into the street where he had just been. A quick roll to the side was all that prevented his body from being crushed.

Niccolo breathed out quickly as he moved and continued running, knowing that if he stayed there, the club would find its way into his skull sooner or later. Niccolo was proved correct in his assumption as he felt the air behind him whip around, but he wasted no time patting himself on the back. As he ran toward another of Balam's soldiers, his bastard sword bubbled into existence. The soldier tried to sweep Niccolo's legs out from under him with an axe, but was rewarded by Niccolo jumping into the air and thrusting a blade directly through his mouth, the leper's entire body slamming forward as he fell. Niccolo landed on top of the corpse with his feet on the demon's shoulders, yanking out his blade before the body even came to rest.

With a short breath to gather his composure, Niccolo turned to find the street had devolved into chaos. Although Balam had decided to stay back from the carnage, all of his men were scattered around them and most of their focus was on the large, four-armed creature the Horsemen had recruited. Moloch seemed to be having the time of his life, crushing the most foolish and throwing some of the others through the air. Niccolo looked back down to find that Cadmus was fighting off a trio of the brutes, their axes and clubs falling around him, which caused him to worry. That fear was proved groundless when Cadmus tricked one of the demons to throw its double-headed axe deep into the gut of one of the other brutes and then rolled underneath a wild swing from another, bringing the blade of his scythe across the soft tissue of the demon's knee.

Niccolo almost smiled at his friend's work before letting his gaze wander over to the Amazon, who was in a duel with the feline king. His mind filled with worry as he already saw blood flowing from scratches to her face and exposed skin and noticed the deep rents that had been made in the armor Cimeries had bothered to wear. He was about to help the woman when he saw two of Balam's cronies rushing toward him, one wielding a great sword and the other a ball and chain.

"Shit," he muttered before running at them, his sword held along his right side. When they were close enough, the brute with the great sword leapt with an overhand, two-handed strike while the demon with the ball and chain continued to run forward. Niccolo ducked to the left side, letting the blade fall just to the right of his arm, and then sprang forward at the first opportunity. The creature was not prepared for Niccolo's sudden leap, which allowed the leper to plant his foot onto the demon's bended knee. He smiled as the other warrior did exactly what he needed him to, sending the ball and chain toward him.

Niccolo pushed off of the demon's knee and leapt straight up, twisting in the air as the spiked, iron ball slammed into the other brute's armored torso, sending the demon staggering backward and falling to the street. Niccolo used the midair opportunity to drive the point of his sword down, using his weight to slam the green blade through the demon's chest. With a cry of pain, the warrior realized that Niccolo's bastard sword had impaled his heart, causing him to fall back as his life left him.

Niccolo did not have the time to relish his kill, so he tried to remove the green blade from the corpse of his enemy. After a second, Niccolo realized that was not going to happen and panicked before leaping back, seeing the heavy, iron ball slam into the demonic corpse and crush its rib cage. The leper scrambled to his feet just in time for the demon's partner to lift the weapon menacingly, saliva dripping from its ruined mouth.

"This won't be so easy, Horseman. I'll break all of your bones. Make you feel unbearable pain. I'll make you wish-" he threatened, but after the first statement Niccolo did not really need to pay attention, as he knew this was the kind of person who valued words over actions. The leper ran forward, shocking the demon with the ball and chain enough to hesitate, and gritted his teeth. The creature had raised his weapon and sent the ball into its circular motion, but Niccolo knew that was not going to matter. Before the demon was able to aim his weapon into Niccolo's skull, the leper had thrown out his demonic arm and jammed his claws into the man's mouth, curling his fingers so black nails dug into the soft flesh of the demon's lower jaw.

"I wish you would stop talking," Niccolo said with a smirk before clenching his fist and throwing his twisted arm to the floor, instantly dislocating the demon's jaw. The brute cried in pain and horror as Niccolo withdrew his hand, causing the man's jaw to hang limply by the skin of his face. Niccolo then threw a right hook into the man's head, causing him to go flying and lie still on the street. Sighing in disgust, Niccolo gave one last look to his enemy; he could stay alive for now.

Suddenly remembering the situation, Niccolo jumped over to the corpse of its partner and grabbed the handle of his blade tightly. He withdrew the bastard sword with a small bit of effort and then tried to run toward Cimeries, who seemed to be having difficulty with Viné. He was stopped in his tracks by a violent rumbling, which caused him to look back to his left. Balam stood there with his mouth foaming, enraged by what he had just seen.

"You're _mine_ , human," the demon king roared before swatting one of his soldiers aside, his body crashing through a nearby wall, and then ran toward Niccolo on all four legs. The leper tried to react, but against any presumptions he could make about Balam's size, the demonic king was remarkably fast. Before Niccolo could do much more than bring his green blade vertical, Balam threw his right paw against Niccolo's left side, sending the bastard sword out of his grip and making him tumble end over end.

Niccolo tried to roll over so that he could face his enemy head-on and set his feet down to gain traction. However, it proved to be too much, causing him to tumble over again, but he found his bearings once more and used his demonic arm to stop his momentum, deep trenches forming as he dragged his nails along the ground. He stood up just in time to find Balam standing over him, about to slam his arms down on top of Niccolo.

"It's over!" the fallen shouted before throwing his fists down, intent on crushing the former human. Niccolo did the only thing he could think of and made himself as narrow as possible before jumping straight up. He almost couldn't believe it when he made it through the gap created between Balam's left arm and his gaping mouth, but he sprang into action as soon as he cleared the fallen's body.

Throwing his demonic arm outwards to gain purchase, Niccolo wrapped his legs around the demon king's neck and grabbed a handful of arrows from the quiver on his back.

"That all you got?" he shouted before slamming the arrows down into Balam's spine, hoping to destroy the bundled nerve tissue and end the fight early. The demonic bear roared in protest and reared up on his hind legs, trying to throw Niccolo off balance, but he just squeezed his thighs tighter and dug his claws in further. He took out the arrows quickly before stabbing them back into Balam's neck, watching blood and loose skin flying out of the wounds he had just created.

Balam roared before bringing up his front paws and using his nails to tear into Niccolo's calf muscles behind his grieves. The scale armor was nothing to the demonic king, so Niccolo felt his legs being torn apart and released the pressure from his thighs. Before he could react, Niccolo was thrown from the demon king's back and rolled along the ground, feeling blood seeping out of his legs. When he looked up, the bundle of arrows still in his hand, he found Balam breathing heavily ten yards away from him.

"Not bad, _human_ ," Balam said, his chest heaving after his ordeal. Niccolo had not noticed, but his demonic hand had actually dug deep into the bear's eye socket, chunks of skin had been torn out of his face and the eye itself hung loosely from its retinal cord. Balam twisted his neck, cracking his spine before sniffing, which somehow drew the eye back into its socket.

"You should...see me on a good day," Niccolo joked, trying to pick himself up as his useless legs were splayed out behind him. He wanted to die on his knees, at the very least.

"There are no more days for you, human. I'll see to _that_!" Balam shouted before rearing on his hind legs, the very air vibrating throughout the street. Niccolo could only watch as the hulking demon king seemed to grow large, in fact he _was_ growing larger, and the leper realized Balam had been taking it easy on him. The beast roared again, its goat teeth growing in prominence as his lips retreated and his gums jutted forward, creating an absurd mouth for the creature. Balam's horns also grew larger, twisting outward as they did and then jutting forward just like his teeth. After gaining three times his already huge amount of body mass, Balam seemed to be done with his transformation. The demon king stalked toward his prey, knowing that Niccolo could not move with his legs torn up from the last attack.

"JUST FOR THE INSULT, HUMAN," Balam said, his voice even louder than usual. "JUST FOR THE COUNCIL, I'LL EAT YOU IN TWO BITES. I'LL LET YOU LOOK AT YOUR FILTHY GUTS BEFORE ENDING IT." The beast walked forward, the ground shaking with every step, and soon its massive face was just a few feet above Niccolo, Balam's saliva dripping onto the ground all around him.

"At least it will be better than looking at your face," Niccolo said as he brought himself up to kneel. The goat mouth chuckled as it came nearer, but Niccolo was suddenly battered with the king's cry of pain and the stale, terrible breath that came with it. Balam's head rose up and away from Niccolo, which caused the Horseman to wonder what had happened, but it only took a glance to see what had happened.

"WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?" Balam roared, shaking the entire street, but Niccolo was not looking at the massive demon; he was staring at the naked man on the emaciated horse. Niccolo could only take in the sight of the dirty man holding a shield on his left arm and a spear in his right hand, a spear that was buried deep in the bear's chest.

"You're in my quarter, Balam. If anyone is allowed to be angry, it's me," Diogenes said as he tried to push the spear in deeper, but the Horseman did not have the chance. The spear was pulled out of his hand as Balam turned, eventually slamming his head into the horse beneath the philosopher. The naked man went flying from the impact, but he used the momentum with grace, scrambling to his feet after just a moment. His horse was not so lucky.

"NOT MUCH OF A HORSEMAN, ARE YOU?" Balam teased, rearing back onto his hind legs and throwing back his head to let blood drip into his mouth. Impaled on his horns and squealing weakly was Diogenes' horse. "THIS ONE TASTES GOOD."

"I hope you enjoy it," Diogenes said before winding his right arm, sending an audible "pop" through the din of battle. "Despair's so skinny that there's not much blood in her."

"Do you," Niccolo started in shock, watching as Despair languished on Balam's horns before turning to the Horseman of Famine, "do you even care that she's in pain?" The philosopher lazily turned to him and scoffed at the question.

"Of course I do," he said before shrugging and turning back to the massive demon. "I just know that this _king_ will die very soon."

"GRAND WORDS, HUMAN. YOU CAN LIVE IF YOU JUST WALK AWAY," Balam said before lowering back to all fours and chuckling menacing. Diogenes just yawned before walking forward, unimpressed by the demon king.

"At the very least, I have to get my horse," he said lazily before springing into action. Niccolo could barely believe the Horseman's skill as he sprinted forward, moving so fast that Balam did not even have a chance to lower his head. Diogenes jumped onto the demon's front leg and grabbed handfuls of brown fur before scrambling up to Balam's grotesque head. The demon made a few confused sounds of protest before the Greek shoved himself in between the bear's skull and the body of his horse, preparing for the next maneuver.

Balam was thrown back by the force Diogenes was able to create with his legs and Niccolo watched as the demon crashed to the street, sending vibrations throughout the scene, and Diogenes, holding Despair, landed on the ground. The Horseman quietly said a few words before lowering Despair, patting the ailing horse's heaving chest and then standing back up.

"WHO...WHO ARE YOU?!" Balam roared in confusion, turning over so he could stand once more. The philosopher slowly walked toward his enemy, not intimidated by the massive creature which could swallow him whole.

"What does it matter who kills you? You'll still be dead," Diogenes said, drawing a panicked roar from the demon. The Horseman kept a stone face, standing there as the deadly king ran toward him roaring as he went. Niccolo shakily got to his feet, desperate to help his fellow Horseman now that his legs were partially healed, but he did not have enough time to help the man.

Fortunately, Diogenes did not need it. The philosopher ran underneath Balam's snapping jaws and took hold of his spear before pulling it out, drawing a scream from the demon. The bear tried to fall onto the Horseman in order to crush him, but Diogenes leapt out of the way before jumping onto the fallen's back, shoving his spear through Balam's neck. When the bear rose onto his rear legs, Niccolo was surprised to see Diogenes staring at him from the demon's shoulder.

"SHOOT HIM! RIGHT IN HIS HEART!" Diogenes shouted, causing Niccolo to scan down the bear's massive frame. Blood was pouring out of the hole, but the leper realized why Diogenes needed his help. The demon's heart was just too far inside its body for Diogenes' spear to reach it. Niccolo wasted no time before grabbing the bow from his back, grateful that he still held the bunch of arrows in his right hand.

The Horseman of Pestilence deftly nocked three of the arrows against the string, dropping the rest, and then focused on Balam's massive body. As he breathed out in that last second, Niccolo doubted that three arrows would be able to do much to a demon king, but then he felt something stirring within him. Indignation and rage, pride and wrath seemed to flow out of his heart, making Niccolo realize that he was not alone in this strike. Feeling the lion's strength of Valefor become his own, Niccolo roared before loosing the arrows from his bow.

He focused his eye at the last second and was surprised to see the effect. Though the arrows were the same as always, each missile streaked toward their target while bathed in red fire. Niccolo realized after just a moment that it was not fire at all, but the energy of the fallen angel who had added its power to his.

The arrows bathed in red energy slammed into Balam's chest and almost exploded as they made their way through the demon's body. When they screamed out of the bear's back, they took a circular chunk of flesh, about two feet in diameter, along with them. Diogenes was lucky enough to be on the other side of the demon's back, but the Horseman was still shaken once the demon king's corpse fell to the street, its tongue falling out of its mouth in disbelief.

"How..." Balam's last word leaked out of his throat, but soon the demon king was no more. Niccolo had to gather his breath as he considered what had just happened. He had never thought that he had the capability to kill a demon of such strength, but as Valefor's strength flowed through him, he realized that there was so much he had yet to learn.

Then the dark, twisted energy rose from the bear's corpse and flew toward the Horseman, sending his body careening into the building behind him.

Niccolo's mind was flooded with anger and rage, the very nature of the beast king threatening at his sanity, but soon he was able to handle Balam's simple thoughts of conquest and power. The energy felt dirty, but Niccolo had no problem harnessing it for his own use, discarding the ursine demon's advice and wishes to the side. He knew that, unlike Valefor, Balam had nothing worthwhile to say to him.

" _No_!" a scream echoed in the real world, causing Niccolo's eyelid to fly open. When he finally was able to take in the scene, he noticed that all of Balam's demonic lackeys were dead or dying, but that Viné was absolutely unscathed. Niccolo's breath escaped him as he took in the sight of Cimeries, who was kneeling on the ground. Her left leg and right arm were lying off to the side; gashes wept along her entire body.

"What did you expect?" Diogenes asked as he walked from Balam's corpse toward Despair, who was whining softly. "Niccolo has always been more than a Horseman." The demon king snarled at the philosopher's statement, but then turned back to Niccolo, curling her hands so that sharp blades extended from her wrists and elbows.

"It doesn't matter," she said before advancing on the leper. "I just need to make sure you don't get back to your precious Lucifer and Earth is ours."

"Why do you say that?" Niccolo asked warily, creating another sword from his diseased arm. For some reason, it did not seem to take as much out of him as usual. Viné just laughed before allowing her rows of cat teeth to menace him.

"Five kings need to die before the portal opens, human," she said arrogantly, which caused Moloch to look up from playing with the corpses of Balam's thugs.

"Who told you five kings?" he asked, forcing Viné to stop and turn toward the masked creature.

"The Shroud...he told us that five kings needed to die to open the portal. Once their lives are taken from them, the portal to Earth will open," she said, so confused by Moloch's question that she revealed more than she wanted. The white mask tilted to the side as one of its hands absent-mindedly played with a nearby demon's arm.

" _Seven_ kings. The Shroud does not know what he's talking about. Or," Moloch said before crossing its front arms and setting his chin on his palm, "he does not want _you_ to know."

"It's five, Moloch. That's what he said!" she screamed, frustrated by the elder creature.

" _Seven_ , little angel. Moloch knows. You know Moloch knows. You were there to bind the stones," he said before yawning and turning to look at Niccolo. "She was the little one on the far side."

"Y-you..." Viné said, unable to understand that the Shroud had lied to her. "He told us five, Moloch. Lucifer, his four precious brothers and sister. That was the _deal_ , Moloch!"

"A poor deal," Moloch said before turning back to the feline king. "Moloch thinks you were tricked."

"No matter!" Viné screamed before swiping at the air in front of her and turning toward Niccolo, baring her fangs with a snarl. "I'll kill you like dogs and get back to the palace."

"Careful," Diogenes cautioned as he leaned down to stroke Famine's stretched skin. "It is not wise to fight with dogs."

"Why is that, human?" Viné screamed, baring all of her edges and points at the philosopher, but the breath and anger was driven from her as an upturned blade carved through her abdomen, stopping just before the ribs on her left side. She looked down in wonder as pain started to rip through her insides.

"Because dogs come in packs," Cadmus whispered before turning his back to the woman and using his shoulder as leverage, drawing the handle of his scythe down from the pivot point and causing the blade of his weapon the carve through her ribcage, through her heart and up through her collar bone, breaking free of Viné's body with a spray of gore and blood.

"You...I....." Viné said once she slumped to the ground, feeling her long life pulsating out of her torn heart.

"That's right, a _human_ just ended you," Cadmus said before stepping around her body and grabbing her chin, unbothered by the sharp teeth which were retreating into her gum line. The demon was terrified at first, but then laughed softly, blood gurgling out of her mouth with the effort.

"What's so funny, Viné? You won't be able to conquer Earth now that you're dead," Niccolo said as he limped forward, his legs still in pain from Balam's attacks. The demon stopped laughing long enough to look into Cadmus' grey eyes.

"No, I guess I won't. The Shroud always wanted me to die, it looks like," she said before breathing in one last time. "But at least your precious little Earth will end."

"You say that like we're not Horsemen of the Apocalypse," Cadmus said before shoving the woman's face out of his hand, forcing the fallen angel to the ground. It only took a second before the reaper saw the life had left from the demon king, meaning that he was about to feel a sudden surge of power.

Cadmus took in the demonic king's soul in a more-controlled fashion than Niccolo, but he did not receive the memories he wanted. He crushed Viné's will and removed any memory of her before turning to Niccolo with a frown.

"No memory of the Shroud's identity," he admitted before walking toward the massive corpse of Balam, which was now leaking an angry energy into the air around them. The reaper swiftly ended that by drawing his scythe through the creature's head, absorbing what remained of the demon king, Niccolo having taken most of Balam's essence.

"And nothing there, too," Niccolo said before sighing. "I'm not sure they knew who it is."

"Likely not," Moloch agreed before walking over to Cimeries, who had shoved herself against a nearby wall, grimacing in pain. "These two were stupid; Moloch thinks the youngest of the eleven."

"Yeah, so what is this about the eleven stones and the seven kings and all that?" Niccolo asked before walking over to the masked creature. It lazily looked over to him and the Horseman felt a wave of confusion permeating the air.

"You can guess, Moloch thinks. The eleven stones that seal Hell away from Earth are tied to the souls of the angels. It is easy," Moloch said before picking up the Amazon's leg with his left hand and placing it against the warrior's stump.

"And they need seven of them to die for the portal to open?" Cadmus asked, drawing nearer to the masked creature. It nodded as Cimeries screamed in pain, but when Moloch drew back his hand, the leg was attached to the Amazon's body.

"Yes. These two were lied to and foolish enough to believe it. They thought five. Moloch told the angel not to trust them," he said before grabbing the warrior's arm and bringing it closer to the demon.

"So not only do we need to save Lucifer," Niccolo suggested, biting his lip, "we also need to keep the kings from dying."

"That seems to be the answer, if stopping the Shroud is your goal," Moloch said before bringing the Amazon's arm back and fusing the skin, muscle and bone together. It was a testament to Cimeries' will that she did not scream at the pain of her second surgery. Moloch turned to them and yawned before waving his hand lazily toward the palace. "If that is true, you should go now."

"Well, aren't you coming?" Niccolo asked, which caused the masked demon to tilt its mask in confusion.

"Moloch will be no good there. The angel does not need Moloch to fight his battles, little humans," he said before rubbing one of his hands along the wounded Amazon beside him, causing her to fall to sleep. Cadmus brought his scythe forward and peered over the edge at Moloch.

"What are you talking about?" Niccolo asked, but Cadmus did not wait for the ancient creature to answer.

"Moloch isn't our secret weapon in fighting the Shroud, Nico," he said before turning to the leper. "Moloch is there to seal the portal away if the Shroud actually gets it open."

"What?" Niccolo asked, but Moloch just chuckled before walking toward Diogenes and his horse, which was still bleeding steadily.

"This one is quite intelligent. A good pawn for the angel," he said before plopping himself down next to the horse. Niccolo stared after him for a moment before looking past him and finding the palace still covered in fire. He summoned Plague and started off toward the palace, briefly stopping by the philosopher kneeling by the ground. Diogenes looked up at him lazily, his hand still on Despair's emaciated ribcage.

"How did you know we were in trouble?" Niccolo asked, which brought a shrug from the philosopher before he pointed toward an alley, where a dirty, brown dog was sitting, its lips pulling back as it yawned.

"Manes followed you around. He told me you didn't notice him, but luckily that doesn't offend dogs."

Niccolo looked at the dog and had to laugh in his surprise, but soon he gathered the reins and looked back down at the philosopher.

"So are you coming?" he asked, which brought a sigh from the dirty man, who gestured toward his wounded horse, which Moloch was just starting to tend.

"I have no horse. Go on, save your Devil," he said before turning back to his partner. Niccolo was about to yell at the man, but then he realized that if Plague had been the one wounded, it would have been just as difficult to separate them.

Niccolo slapped the reins against Plague's back and sent his horse into a gallop, knowing without listening that Cadmus was right behind him. The palace was still on fire, but they still had time. Or, at least, that was what Niccolo hoped.

He could not forgive himself if he was too late to save Scratch.

# Chapter 14: Past - No Place Like Home

Niccolo twisted to the side and watched the short blade flying past his chest. Slightly intimidated by the swift thrust, he had almost forgotten the bastard sword in his left hand. Once he remembered, he pushed back, grinding his green blade against the shining sword, knocking Lucifer's right arm away in the process.

He was rewarded with the edge of a small buckler sinking into the side of his throat, causing Niccolo to stagger backward before regaining his balance, just in time to react to a controlled slash coming from his left. The leper ducked under the quick strike before launching his own attack, heaving down his blade from left to right, hoping to sink the edge into Lucifer's neck. The angel jumped to his left and let the blade fall to the stone of the courtyard, giving a short laugh in reaction.

"You trying to kill me, Nico?" he said before raising his buckler and keeping Lux to his side, the blade gleaming with an inner light. After a breath of recovery, Niccolo straightened his back, letting his blade grind against the stonework, and eventually brought the sword behind his right hip.

"Pretty sure that's the only way I'd ever be able to win against you, Scratch," Niccolo said, giving a lopsided grin toward his new mentor. Lucifer smiled before approaching the young human, his shield in front of him.

"Guess we'll see what happens," Lucifer said before advancing and pushing his shield forward, trying to bash it against Niccolo's skull. Niccolo, in turn, dodged back before bringing his blade across his hip, hoping to catch Lucifer's exposed torso. However, the angel had been prepared for the reactionary strike and leapt over his young student, flipping and twisting in the air so that he could thrust his short sword into Niccolo's upper back.

In a surprising turn, Niccolo had been prepared for Lucifer's acrobatics and continued turning his body, launching the bastard sword into the space the angel now occupied. Lucifer was astonished by the strike and only just brought up Morningstar in order to ward off Niccolo's heavy blade. At the impact, metal screeched against metal and Lucifer forgot to hold back his power, causing Morningstar to flare with white light.

"Oh, you SON OF A BITCH!" Niccolo shouted as the light from Lucifer's shield burned into his sole eye, causing him to stagger back from the angel who had just landed on his other side. Niccolo swung his blade recklessly, bringing his right hand to his eye to somehow wipe away his nascent blindness.

"You gotta be prepared," Lucifer said before circling around the Horseman, watching for an opening between Niccolo's wild slashes. Though they were not aimed for anything in particular and some of the execution was sloppy, the frequency and power behind the strikes were enough to ward off any actions.

"You said you wouldn't use your light, Scratch! Not fair," Niccolo yelled before grimacing in pain and then adopting a defensive stance, holding his blade in front of him with two hands. Lucifer could tell from the tear in his eye that Niccolo was still hurting, but he was regaining his sight.

"Haven't you heard? I'm the Prince of Lies," Lucifer said before finding his opportunity, throwing Morningstar toward Niccolo and forcing him to bring his blade across his body to knock away the incoming missile. Lucifer smiled as he was already running toward Niccolo's right side, where he was weaker, his body already twisted awkwardly from knocking away the incoming buckler.

Niccolo tried to deny Lucifer's approach with a cross slash aimed at the angel's midsection, but Lucifer threw his arm holding Lux against the strike, sending sparks as their weapons clashed against each other. Off-put by the power behind the blow, Niccolo was not able to stop Lucifer when the angel threw his left hand underneath Niccolo's right arm and grabbed the collar of Niccolo's tunic. Lucifer then planted his right foot behind Niccolo's body and threw his hip out before pushing Niccolo's upper half, sending the human tumbling to the ground. Niccolo was about to scramble to his feet, but then he felt the point of Lucifer's short sword against his throat.

"That was dirty," Niccolo grunted, but Lucifer only laughed before letting his sword blink out of existence and then offered his hand to the young man. Niccolo took the help that was offered him and grunted as he was pulled to his feet.

"Sorry, kid, but once you live a few centuries in Hell, you'll see that nobody plays fair," Lucifer said as he helped the Horseman. He watched as Niccolo twisted and turned, popping parts of his spine and other joints which had become rigid during their sparring session. After a moment, Niccolo groaned and then crossed his arms.

"And I shouldn't trust _you_ most of all, is that the lesson?" he asked before giving Lucifer a childish look. The way that Niccolo acted around him made Lucifer grateful; he could pretend he was not in charge of thousands of wayward demons and fallen angels. With a smile, Lucifer walked up to Niccolo's side and laid a hand on his blighted shoulder.

"Never ever, Nico. The day you trust someone down here is the day you get let down. If nothing else, you should take that away from our sessions," Lucifer said before walking toward the exit of the courtyard, taking time to look at the hellish landscape around them. The Devil did not leave his palace very often, so many people came to his palace and kept him from having any free time, but he took solace in looking out on the four quarters of Dis.

"There have to be some people I can trust, Scratch," Niccolo said as he came up to Lucifer's side, staring out on the angel's realm with a distinct longing. "They can't be all bad."

"They're not," Lucifer stated before sighing, leaning up against the post at the top of the stairs. The Death Quarter lay below them, and while it was a desolate and macabre section in Dis, it still was more interesting than the resplendent palace forty yards behind him. "You just never can tell, Nico."

"Why not? Why does it have to be that way?" Niccolo asked, oblivious that he was having such a heavy discussion with the supposed scourge of the world. It just seemed natural to speak with such familiarity, which he did not realize was what made him so endearing to the fallen angel. Lucifer turned slightly to take in the sight of his young student, a slight smile crossing his lips before turning back to look at Buné's spire.

"I've lived a long time, Nico. Longer than most of these other fallen angels. I was the first creature created by Adonai, millions and millions of years ago. What I've seen," he said before sniffing, recalling everything that had happened to him, "is that no matter how much you want to trust someone, you can't offer yourself completely. You have to hold something back, Nico, or you're going to get hurt."

"Who did you trust that you hurt you so much?" Niccolo asked, his childlike nature causing Lucifer to chuckle softly.

"So many people, Niccolo. Some of the punishment I was given I deserved. I guess I betrayed Adonai before he betrayed me," Lucifer said before looking off into the distance, past the Death Quarter, past Dis. He saw the face of his creator and tears started to leak out of his golden eyes. "That did not stop it from hurting."

"Why did you do it, Scratch?" Niccolo asked, drawing the confused gaze of the Devil.

"Do what? Betray Adonai? Start the war?" he asked, the human by his side giving a small nod. Lucifer looked down before crossing his arms and shifting his weight, staring at the steps leading away from them.

"It seemed wrong, Nico. Adonai created us and we were grateful. We had to do so much, complete so many tasks, but we owed so much to our father. But...the station we were given," Lucifer said, falling into his memories, "it seemed wrong to be so powerful and so helpless. When he started the evolution experiment, it looked like Adonai was finally realizing what he wanted to do with the world. But then you guys, you stalled out. I could feel your willpower, your desire to achieve something, to be more than just silly primates subsisting on plants and animals in the forest."

"And Adonai," Lucifer said, tears falling freely but his voice becoming more assertive. "he just watched you suffer. Watched you as you were killed by animals with better instincts and natural weapons. It just seemed so cruel," the angel faltered momentarily, shaking his head. "He created you to _die_. He created you so that he could laugh and watch you get devoured; watch you lose your loved ones."

"I knew there was more to you. I could see inside your minds and the potential you had. I had to do something. It started small, Nico," Lucifer said, regaining his self with his sense of pride, looking fondly on the young soul by his side. "I showed them what a heavy branch could do to a hyena. Then I shoved some stones and rocks in there, showed them the potential of the world around them."

"And you guys just went _crazy_!" Lucifer shouted, smiling wildly at the memories. "God, just a small push and you guys just went flying ahead of the rest of the animals. I was so happy at first. I didn't even think I was truly betraying Adonai; I didn't think I was messing up his experiment that much. It was something new to watch."

"He..." Lucifer said before sniffing and looking out on his kingdom. "Adonai didn't see it that way. Not at first. So...the rebellion happened. And I lost," the angel admitted before turning to his protégé. "So the story goes."

"Do you," Niccolo started, shifting to his left leg as he felt the awkwardness building up inside him, "do you regret it?" As soon as Lucifer heard the word "regret," the angel was already shaking his head.

"Not in the slightest, Nico. It was the right thing to do and you humans...you've accomplished so much. Even _Adonai_ can't deny _that_ ," Lucifer said with a small dose of venom before turning to face Niccolo, his back to the post he had been leaning against. "I would fight for you every day." Niccolo smiled before turning to look down the stairs, waiting for their guests to arrive.

"I'm going to have to ignore that one lesson of yours, then," he said, drawing a skeptical look from the angel beside him before he turned with a grin. "Since I trust you and everything." It took Lucifer a moment to take in the statement, at first he was surprised, but then he broke into a weary laugh.

"Here I am trying to give you a lesson about the world and I go and undermine it right after," Lucifer said before shaking his head and stepping forward to put his arm around the Horseman, looking down the steps leading away from them. "I'm a terrible teacher."

"People don't look to you for teaching, Scratch," Niccolo admitted, raising his blighted hand up to cover Lucifer's on his shoulder. "You're an example. I don't care what the texts say, that the bible condemns you. You're much better than the people I knew back on Earth," he said before turning his head to look at Lucifer, who was glowing with pride. "As long as you keep being you, you don't need to prove a goddamned thing." Lucifer eyes almost started to water up again, but instead he smiled, took his arm from around Niccolo and then shoved him to the other side of the gate.

"You're gonna make the Devil cry, Nico. That's not nice," he said, drawing a wicked smile from the leper standing across from him.

"Who said I had to be nice? This is _Hell_ , after all," he said before gesturing toward the palace with an over-emphasized flourish. As he did, he noticed a yellow demon staring at them from the nearby awning. His smile disappeared as he took in the creature's appearance and the fury that seemed to leak out of him. Niccolo's reaction prompted Lucifer to look up to the roof, causing the angel to curse under his breath.

"Mammon?" Lucifer called out, causing the yellow demon to stand up to his full height, his bat nose quivering in anger.

"So that's how it is, huh? A couple months of sparring and you two get all chummy?" Mammon shouted, his fists clenched and white-knuckled.

"What are you talking about, Mammon?" Lucifer shouted, his hands on his hips. Niccolo looked at the angel and realized that he was taking a confrontational stance toward this demon. Although he recognized the name, Niccolo had no idea how important this creature was to Lucifer.

"No, I get it, Dad. _I get it_. I'm out of here. And you," he said as he turned his head to look at Niccolo, extending a chubby index finger toward the leper. "Watch your back." With that last threat, Mammon turned and walked away, the claws of his feet tapping against the stone of the roof. Lucifer sighed as he realized what had just happened, but Niccolo was still confused.

" _Dad_?" he asked, the question making Lucifer sigh and bring his palm up to his face.

"That's Mammon, Niccolo. Also known as the Hellborn," he said before bringing his palm back down and turning to face Niccolo. "Also known as my son."

"I didn't know angels and demons could _have_ children," Niccolo said before biting his lip. The fallen angel looked down in shame before breathing deeply.

"There's only the one, Nico. After Mammon, we realized that we never should have tried," he almost muttered.

"Why is that?" the leper asked, not willing to guess as to why something would weigh so heavily on the Devil. He was shocked the see Lucifer break into tears for the second time in the same day. On Earth, he would have never thought the Devil capable of such a thing.

"It's not like life on Earth. We angels were made differently; made of energy rather than true matter. In order to make a new soul, we had to sacrifice parts of our own. I guess...I guess I didn't give enough," Lucifer said, his voice shaking before making eye contact with Niccolo, his golden eyes shaking with emotion.

"I was in love with an angel named Lilith. She and I had been fond of each other for so, so long. She had more youth and vitality, she was not as jaded as I was, but still she joined my rebellion. Lilith was my first recruit. For trusting me, she was banished to Hell with the rest of us."

"She didn't complain, though. Even as the darkness filled this world around us, even as some of us started to turn on the others, Lilith stayed strong. She was the mortar that held this city together. Lilith was my foundation."

"So," Lucifer said, struggling with his memories and laying his hand against the railing nearby. "When we started to think about rising up or trying to take back Earth, we decided to do something to bolster our numbers. We experimented with having children and Lilith was my beautiful bride. I made her pregnant and spoiled her as much as I could," Lucifer said with a smile, remembering the face of his angelic lover. Almost immediately it was replaced with a stoic look, as if Lucifer was trying to abandon his emotion.

"We didn't know that it would take our energy if we tried to make children. Lilith became weaker every day as Mammon feasted on her life; I couldn't give her more of my own soul. I didn't know I had to, Nico," he admitted, staring at the floor. "When Mammon finally came out of her womb, that...my _son_ ," he faltered, anger filling his voice with the memory, "he ate his way out."

"I'll never forget the look on her face, Nico," Lucifer said, turning his golden eyes toward the human across from him.

"I...I'm so sorry, Scratch," Niccolo offered, his eyes filled with tears for the Devil. He did not even think about the nickname Lucifer had been given or how it would normally irk the pale angel. Lucifer sniffed loudly and wiped away the tears from his eyes before staring at the roof where Mammon had watched them.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Nico. That one was on me. Lilith trusted me and now she's dead. Can't trust anybody, Nico," he said before turning to the Horseman with a forced smile. "But...I'm not going to let that happen again. I won't let one of my brothers watch his happiness die just to make something...someone like my son."

"I'm still sorry," Niccolo said before hearing a pair of footsteps coming from the Death Quarter. He looked down to find Buné and the Pale Rider approaching them, a pile of scrolls tucked underneath their arms. Lucifer followed his gaze and tried to recover his usual nature, the tears and pain absent from his face, though Niccolo could still see the remnants of his misery playing through his features.

"Buné! About time, you bastard," Lucifer said, propping his hands on his hips and letting the rest of his sorrow fade away. They were just memories, after all. The blond fallen in the decorated armor gave Lucifer an incredulous look as he approached with his student in tow.

"I had to find Cadmus, first. There was no way I was going to get all these scrolls to you without him," he said, stopping a few steps below Lucifer and Niccolo.

"I'm sorry, sir," Cadmus apologized, coming to a stop beside the armored demon. "I had to perform a reaping earlier."

"Oh, no. Who, if I may ask?" Lucifer questioned before adopting a look of concern. The reaper below them cleared his throat before breathing out.

"Agares, sir. Crocell ended him swiftly and he didn't have to suffer," Cadmus said, avoiding eye contact as he discussed the slayer's mercy. Lucifer nodded before motioning for them to come up the steps.

"A shame, Cadmus. And stop calling me _sir_. Makes me feel old," Lucifer said as he stepped aside and allowed them to pass.

"You _are_ old, Lucifer," Buné said with the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips, drawing a light chuckle from his friend. "But I will admit that he doesn't need to treat you with extra respect."

"How bitter you seem, Buné. I got these, Cadmus," Lucifer said before stopping Cadmus and taking the scrolls from underneath his arm, forcing the reaper into an awkward stance.

"Are you...sure?" Cadmus asked, drawing a look of disappointment from Lucifer.

"I'm _really_ not that old, reaper," he said before stepping back and standing next to Buné. "Anyway, I think Buné and I can take care of all this. You two go out and have a good time on the town." The statement prompted Niccolo to look at him with uncertainty.

"Good time on the town?" he asked, drawing a shrug from Lucifer.

"Whatever it is that you can do in Dis, these days. The two of you haven't really spent time together yet, and you're two of the Horsemen," he said before turning to Buné. "It's about time they get some bonding in."

"What's your game?" Buné asked, but Lucifer just nodded at the entrance of the palace.

"I'll tell you inside. You two have fun," Lucifer said before turning and walking away, Buné at his side. Niccolo stared after them for a moment before turning to the awkward reaper standing a few feet away from him.

"So...we're supposed to bond?" Niccolo asked, drawing a sigh from Cadmus as he brought the end of his scythe down onto the ground, using it to support his weight.

"I've heard that's a _thing_ ," he said before tilting his head from side to side. Eventually he breathed in deeply and then looked over the Horseman in front of him. He then extended his right hand.

"My name is Cadmus. Welcome to the Apocalypse."

***

Buné placed down the scrolls onto the long table and then walked over to a chair on the far end, pulling it out before sitting down and then placing his elbows onto the surface of the rich wood. He then propped up his head by placing his right hand underneath his chin, letting out a deep breath as he analyzed the fallen angel on the other side of the table.

"Mind telling me what you're up to?" he asked, prompting Lucifer to smile before pulling out his own chair and falling down into it, his body relaxing for the first time in days. Buné was one of the few people Lucifer knew backward and forward, which meant that he did not have to pretend everything was fine.

"No chance for small talk, huh?" Lucifer said, waiting for Buné's expression to change.

It didn't.

"Big talk, Lucifer. We got all of our small talk out of the way during the first million years," the armored demon said, drawing a light chuckle from the other side of the table.

"That's true, that's true. Well," he said before putting his left hand behind his neck and massaging the muscle there, "I do want them to bond, Buné. That was not a lie."

" _Why_?" Buné asked, the word drawn out for emphasis. Lucifer knew that he was asking for more than just a surface answer.

"They need friends, Buné. Niccolo definitely does, he's not going to make it if he doesn't have someone to talk to, to regain some semblance of his humanity. Cadmus can fill that role, I'm pretty sure. I can recall another reckless soul who was balanced out by someone with a more serious head on their shoulders," Lucifer finished with a slight flicker in his expression. Buné groaned before sitting back in his chair and crossing his left leg over his right, letting his left arm fall to rest on his knee.

"Keep going. We both know you're not done," Buné said, adjusting himself to be more comfortable.

"It can't just be that?" Lucifer teased, causing Buné to look at him beneath droopy eyelids.

"While you have had _plenty_ of time on this planet, Lucifer, we both know that you consolidate on your schemes. There's another reason you're making my reaper get to know your leper. Just get on with it; we have far too much to discuss today," Buné said before yawning, drawing his right hand up to cover his mouth.

"I want a back up, honestly," Lucifer admitted, drawing forward and placing his elbows on the table, supporting his head with the knuckles of his hand.

"A back-up? For Cadmus?" Buné asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought we decided that it made more sense to build up the Pale Rider. Ajax is too antagonistic and Diogenes is too lazy. Cadmus has a good head on his shoulders."

"I know, Buné, I know. I still want him to be part of this, but there's something about Niccolo," he said, making the armored demon squint at him.

"Don't play favorites, Lucifer."

"I'm not, brother. There's a potential buried in him, that's all. Lü Bu was about to kill him but then Nico created that sword out of thin air," Lucifer said, causing Buné to groan before uncrossing his legs and placing his right elbow back on the table.

"This is about _theatrics_?" he asked before supporting his head, Lucifer glaring at him over his hands.

"No, Buné. I'm serious. That child has a willpower, a sheer strength of self, that I feel will be helpful. I'm not saying we're giving up on Cadmus, I still feel like he's the best option, but we can afford to give Nico a chance."

"Nico, huh?" Buné asked, stretching his jaw and letting it pop before closing his mouth.

"Quiet," Lucifer said as his eye twitched. "What's the harm in having two options? Who knows?" he asked before sitting back and placing both of his arms behind his head. "They might actually like each other."

"I guess there's no harm in a little redundancy," Buné admitted, scratching his face with his armored finger. "I just don't want to draw suspicion to Cadmus."

"He should be fine. People are allowed to socialize, brother, and I don't think anybody is going to catch on to our plan."

"Let's hope they don't," Buné said before turning and looking toward the doorway, his face turning dark with a frown as he considered his next statement. After a long moment, Buné finally continued. "So _he's_ getting more active." Lucifer's light expression dropped at the change of topic, bringing out a more serious tone in his own voice.

"Yes, Agares. I had hoped that he would have waited before making his reappearance."

"You can't count on him for anything, Lucifer, except for his sudden but inevitable betrayal," Buné said as he turned to the fallen angel, his face made of stone. "Are you sure you don't want to remove him and carry on with our work?"

"What, and draw attention to it?" Lucifer asked, his expression that of dismissal. "No, I'd rather _know_ who my enemy is. As soon as we get rid of him, Adonai or the archangels are just going to send another lackey and it will be even more secretive. No. It's better this way."

"Turned him into a crocodile, Lucifer," Buné said, crossing his arms across his torso. "Agares was never more than a ferryman in Egypt in life, but in Hell we respected him. 'The Shroud,'" Buné said while uncrossing his arms and curling his fingers into air quotation marks, "turned him into a goddamned crocodile. Almost ate Crocell's leg."

"Did Cadmus get his memories?" Lucifer asked, skipping past Buné's remarks. The armored demon sighed before shaking his head.

"No, the boy still has some way to go. But I'm fairly certain that Agares wasn't in his way. Agares was a warning shot, Lucifer. The Shroud is on his way back up."

"We knew this would happen," Lucifer commented, drawing his hands behind his neck once more.

"Yeah, Lucifer. We _knew_. Are you sure you don't want to get rid of him, now, and get rid of the headache of dealing with him later?"

"Of course I want to get rid of him, Buné. I do. I don't like that he's turning souls into feral beasts. But," Lucifer said before bringing his arms down to his sides and stared at the ceiling. "It's a sacrifice we have to make for the greater good."

"Hah," Buné let out a bark of laughter before sitting forward and grabbing one of the scrolls from the pile. "An angel talking about the greater good. As if I need another reminder that I've lived too long." Lucifer continued staring at the ceiling before closing his golden eyes, remembering the woman he used to love, the son that he could not stand to look at, and the poor boy with the ruined arm.

"You and me both, brother. You and me both."

***

"So.... umm," Niccolo said as he looked off toward the crest of the hill. He and Cadmus had been trying to make conversation for the last five minutes, riding through the Death Quarter, but Niccolo was finding it difficult to come up with any suitable topics. Finally, he sighed and looked at Cadmus who was riding on his pure white horse. "So how'd you die?" The reaper was so shocked by the question that his horse felt the effect, causing Mercy to stagger.

"Are you insane?" Cadmus asked as he turned to Niccolo, who was riding along on his own horse. In his mind, Plague chuckled.

_Smooth, little man. Smooth_ , his deep voice came unbidden, making Niccolo curse at him internally. After thinking a few choice words about the horse's mother, Niccolo looked at the reaper, who was glaring at him.

"I mean, just a little. You'll see that I mean well, though," he said as he shrugged and turned back to the road ahead of them. A large beast, somewhat resembling an ox, was pulling a cart behind it over the hill. "I don't know; it just felt like a good topic for us. Former humans and everything."

"You don't think that was rude? _At all_?" Cadmus asked before watching the same beast, which was just passing them as they came to the top of the hill. Niccolo shrugged again before looking at the creature, its pitiful head lowered to the ground. He almost wanted to set the animal free.

"I'm sure it was, Cadmus. I just don't have any problem with being rude. Look, you can be rude to me, too," he offered, turning to Cadmus with a slight grin. "Don't you get tired of being polite all the time?"

"I mean...yeah," Cadmus admitted before bringing his hand to Mercy's neck, running his nails through the white hair. "I guess I'm just used to it."

"You're used to being polite as the _Pale Rider_?" Niccolo asked with a tone of incredulity, causing Cadmus to look at him in confusion. "Cadmus, you're one of the most powerful humans in all of creation! You're a Horseman of the Apocalypse! People should be polite to _you_!"

"They _are_ , Niccolo. Nobody treats me like I'm not worth respecting, except for maybe Ajax," Cadmus said, looking behind them after the ox-like creature, his face full of sympathy. "Like I said, I'm just used to it."

"Well, _how_ are you used to it? You've had this gig for what, five hundred years?" Niccolo, drawing a nod from the reaper.

"Something like that. Before then I was still reaping souls. It wasn't Hell that caused this little polite streak of mine," Cadmus said, easing off of his awkwardness, becoming comfortable around his fellow Horseman. "It was life."

"Yeah, well, life does some stuff," Niccolo agreed, drawing a snort from the reaper. Niccolo turned to find him smiling at his remark.

"Yes, life does some _stuff_ , alright. I'm sure it did plenty to you to make _you_ so damaged," Cadmus teased, causing the leper to laugh in reaction.

"There you go! Open up, you stoic bastard!" he shouted, causing Cadmus' face to draw into an even wider smile.

"Fine. Fine, I will," Cadmus said before turning to look back at the animal dragging along its cart. "Do you know what it's like to be owned by someone, Niccolo?"

"Mmmm, not really. I know what it's like to owe a debt," he offered, but Cadmus shook his head at that.

"Almost, but not quite. I was still a boy when my family was captured for having the audacity to be Christian during the Roman Empire. This was before Constantine and his little change of heart. We became slaves for our faith, Niccolo," Cadmus admitted before biting his lip. "That's where it comes from. If I wasn't polite, I was whipped and beaten. You only need that lesson once."

"Sounds rough," Niccolo said, drawing a weary sigh from Cadmus before he replied.

"Little bit. Getting thrown to the lions was a little worse," Cadmus said under his breath, shivering at the memory. "They still make me uneasy. The lion on Buné's shoulder makes me jump if I turn and he's standing right there."

"You're scared of a big cat?" Niccolo teased, trying to draw Cadmus out of his sorrow and pain. It worked, as the reaper looked surprised before turning to face him.

"You would be, too, if a _cat_ with three-inch long fangs was tearing out your throat!"

"Maybe he just wanted you to be quiet," Niccolo said with a mischievous gleam in his eye, causing the reaper to laugh and shake his head.

"Alright, you bastard, fair trade. Tell me how you ended up here," he said, making Niccolo return to his own memories. He found that he was not entirely angry at his misfortune, anymore; he seemed to have found his place in Hell.

"Stabbed in the back," he said, not able to remember the pain that Giovanni's thrust had caused him. He really only remembered Camilla's pretty, if grief-stricken, face. It almost made him smile.

"You? _No._ I can't believe it!" Cadmus shouted in mock surprise, causing Niccolo to slap his shoulder with his right hand.

"Took my eye off the enemy, reaper, that's all," Niccolo said, gathering his reins with his demonic hand so that he could make wild gestures with the other. "It wasn't like I was minding my own business and some guy got the better of me."

"Oh, then what was this over? Some big battle or something?" Cadmus asked, the walls around him having broken down completely. Niccolo shook his head and waved off the comment with his free hand.

"No, nothing like that. Fight over a girl, if you believe it."

"I can."

"Yeah, well, she used to be mine. Then, well, this happened," Niccolo said before pointing at his arm. "It wasn't this terrifying up there on Earth, but it was still gross and messed up. Ended up getting me exiled from my family."

"Ouch. Sorry about that," Cadmus offered, making Niccolo tilt his head from side to side.

"Not really your fault, but thanks. It was pretty awful, went from being the son of a prominent merchant and ended up becoming a thief. Then an assassin, of all things. Not much a leper can do in Italia," Niccolo admitted before looking at the cloaked Horseman, whose face was filled with sympathy. Niccolo realized that maybe Lucifer had a point; maybe the two of them bonding was not such a terrible thing. "So there, trade's done."

"I can see the merchant background at work," Cadmus said, a sly grin creeping across his features. Though Niccolo had been momentarily sad at recalling his past, the reaper's teasing brought him back to his usual levity.

"I don't think that will ever change, Cadmus. I'm only human, after all," he said with a smile, causing his fellow Horseman to look ahead of them.

"I think we're past that now, Nico. Can't forget we're _Horsemen_ _of_ _the_ _Apocalypse_ , destined to ruin the world that gave us our sob stories," he said, his face emptying of levity as he looked over the Death Quarter from the hill. Niccolo could tell that their shared destiny was weighing on him and joined him in Cadmus' pensive stare.

"I heard that we're fighting for something better after that, at least," Niccolo argued, drawing a heavy sigh from the reaper.

"Better than the end of the world?" Cadmus asked, looking back to his new friend. Niccolo just shrugged, staring off into the distance. With how little life he had seen, he could not pretend to know the world for its true nature. Niccolo turned and made eye contact with Cadmus, noticing that, even with those grey eyes, the reaper held a world of emotion behind them.

"We can try, at least. Between you and me, I don't really want to end the world. Maybe just the world that we came from."

"What do you mean?" Cadmus asked, making Niccolo dive deeper into his own thoughts. He had not been challenged like this in a long time.

"I mean..." he faltered before looking back to the reaper. "It's not exactly like we don't have a _choice_. It's up to us whether or not we swing our blades or kill our enemies. It's up to us if we decide to end the world. Maybe we can just make it better. A better world. One where a person isn't tied down in chains just to serve another," he said, thinking about the ox creature and then Cadmus' own experiences. Then his own life came to mind along with all of the injustices he experienced. "A world where a man leads his own life and isn't exiled for being different. A world of choice."

"A nice idea," Cadmus muttered, his mind joining Niccolo's in his fantasy. "Never gonna happen, but it sounds nice."

"Well, I know it sounds stupid," Niccolo said, drawing his hand behind his neck in shame. "But...I think I'd like to try, in any case. I think the idea is worth that, at least." Cadmus nodded at him in approval and then looked ahead of them, the drab surroundings of the Death Quarter seemed somehow brighter than usual.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think you're right."

***

"So did you have fun on your play date?" Plague asked, breaking through Niccolo's happy thoughts. The Horseman looked down and smiled as he ran the claws of his left hand through Plague's black hair.

"You're an asshole," Niccolo said, unable to be mad at his horse's ridicule. He and Cadmus had talked and laughed for a few hours before Cadmus had to go to another reaping at the Pits. Niccolo had offered to travel with him, but the reaper had seemed anxious at the statement. It took Niccolo only a moment to realize that they had only just met and that it would have been a lot to ask of his fellow Horseman, so he had withdrawn his self-invitation and parted ways with Cadmus.

"Hey, I kept out of it, little man. I could have been teasing him, too," his horse said with a chuckle. They were ambling through the Pestilence Quarter, now, and Niccolo was able to see the training yard and stables just two hundred yards away.

"I appreciate that you didn't, Plague," he said in semi-gratification. Niccolo might not have admitted it easily, but he did like that it was a one-on-one conversation. He looked out at the new archers practicing in the field and wondered how it would be to lead them into battle, if he really held all that much power as the Horseman of Pestilence.

"Well, I was _actually_ just chatting with Mercy, getting the details on our new friend," Plague teased, causing Niccolo to look down at him with skepticism.

"Details? What were you girls chatting about?" Niccolo asked as they walked past the target circles, finding that most of the archers were not even close to the bull's eye, if they hit the target at all. He was about to chide them for their lack of skill, but then he remembered how much trouble he had when he first fell to the Inferno. Niccolo wrapped the reins around his fist as he resolved that he would not be another Lü Bu.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know!" Plague squealed, adopting an imitation of a little girl spreading rumors. It was enough to make Niccolo laugh, his thoughts filled with the four horses of the Apocalypse sitting around and sharing stories about who was dating who. Plague caught wind of his fantasy and chuckled alongside his master. "That's too far, Nico."

"You did it, Plague. Spreading rumors and gossip with your little friends. How dare you insult my play date," he teased, walking behind his archers and finding them to become nervous at his presence. He leaned down to the third archer he passed and whispered from his mount. "Just breathe out before you let go of the string, it'll make you less nervous."

"Uh...thanks," the chubby, little man said before taking another arrow from his quiver.

"Oh, and just put the points into the ground in front of you so don't have to keep pulling from the quiver. You can't do it often in battle, but we're just practicing here," he advised, tapping Plague lightly so that he would continue along the line. The chubby, little human smiled before nodding and turning back to his target, his posture indicating that he was much more relaxed. His reaction was enough to make Niccolo give a lop-sided smile.

"Oh, glory, my Horseman is teaching, now? I'll have to give extra lessons just to undo your damage," Barbas' voice came from the end of the line. Niccolo turned to face his old mentor and shrugged.

"Hey, they can at least learn from my mistakes, old man," Niccolo said before offering his hands palms-up in surrender. As Plague carried him closer to Barbas, Niccolo could see the tired smile on his face.

"Plenty of source material, Niccolo. So where have you been all day? Lucifer just wanted to spend that much time with you?" the old fallen asked, his hands wrapped over the top of his cane. Niccolo shook his head and yawned, covering his mouth with his demonic hand before responding.

"No, actually. Buné showed up with Cadmus on his leash and they sent us away to ' _bond_ ,'" Niccolo mentioned, making quotation marks in the air with the last word. Barbas' face flickered with skepticism before he rocked forward, using his cane as a support.

"Bond? They wanted you and Cadmus to spend time together?" he asked, rocking back so that his weight was displaced onto his feet. Niccolo shrugged before motioning Plague toward the stables.

"Yeah, they thought we would be good friends. Turns out they're right. Once you get the Pale Rider past his stuffy, outer shell, he's got a decent attitude. Not as smart, mind you, but entertaining," he said, Plague carrying him past his old mentor. "I'll be back as soon as I drop off Plague. We'll learn these archers right."

"Take your time, Niccolo," Barbas muttered lazily. "And try to be quiet when you get back. I don't want them taking your words to heart."

"Bastard," Niccolo cursed at his mentor, the smile betraying the word. Niccolo had a certain fondness for Barbas and always would, even if Lucifer was reaching out to him.

As Plague carried him to the stables, Niccolo thought about all of the events of the past month. He had killed his main tormentor, assuming the role of a Horseman of the Apocalypse, and even seemed to be making new friends. In fact, he was actually starting to enjoy himself. When he looked down at his ruined arm, he did not see a blight or illness anymore. It was acceptable; _he_ was acceptable.

He brought down the clawed limb and stroked Plague's hair, feeling the warmth of affection flowing from his horse. It caused Niccolo to smile, knowing that, if nothing else, he had a friend who felt affection and perhaps love toward him. He had a number of friends and mentors, people who cared about him, and he had a purpose. He had a life down here in Hell.

How strange that Niccolo Vespucci de Firenze had to die to finally have a life worth living.

# Chapter 15: Apocalypse Now

_Hurry_ , Niccolo thought, hugging the neck of his horse and breathing heavily. They were almost to the stairs leading up to the palace, the fight against Viné and Balam already a distant memory, but Niccolo worried they were too late. The palace ahead of them was on fire, the flames grasping at the ceiling of Hell.

_I know, Nico, I know_ , Plague's voice burst into his mind, the horse doing what it could to console his rider. The stone pathway underneath them was flying past, the clattering of Plague's hooves reverberating throughout the air, but even then Niccolo was anxious. They had spent far too much time recruiting Moloch and fighting demonic kings. When they reached the stairs from the Famine Quarter, Niccolo was foolish enough to hope they might not have any distractions.

Then a slab of iron drove into the ground in their path, the broad surface of the metal creating a wall which Plague slammed into, driving Niccolo through the air and tumbling along the ground.

"THAT'S FAR ENOUGH!" a familiar voice called from a side street, though Niccolo had a rough time trying to recognize _anything_ while he was struggling to stop his momentum. The Horseman panicked as he struggled to keep conscious, his thoughts with the poor beast that had been stopped so suddenly, but Plague's mind gave him the feeling that he should not worry about him. Niccolo picked himself up to find a massive man decked out in crimson and black armor walking calmly toward them.

"What are you doing, Ajax?" Cadmus shouted, bringing Mercy to a stop by the stairs. The reaper was about to help Niccolo up until he saw the cloaked, raven-headed demon next to the legendary warrior.

"Stopping _you_ , Horsemen!" Amon cried, ruffling his feathers and removing his cloak to reveal light, boiled-leather armor on his chest. "We have been watching!"

"Why?" Niccolo asked, his voice weak, but their adversaries heard him well enough. Ajax yanked back the chain attached to his right gauntlet and sent his massive iron great sword flying back to him. He caught the huge weapon easily before slamming the point down into the ground.

"Why? You _dare_ to ask us why? You _knew_ this would happen! Amon told me about your little gift from Räum!" he shouted, walking forward and dragging his blade out of its mooring. Niccolo stood up shakily, his fury quaking through him, and cradled his ribs with his left hand before advancing a step.

"What are you TALKING about?" Niccolo screamed, his hair swaying as the rage filled him. "We have to get to the palace, Ajax! We have to stop this!"

" _You_ have to stop this?" Amon answered by pointing at Niccolo with his feathered arm. "You _caused_ this!"

"We didn't cause anything, Amon!" Cadmus yelled, turning Mercy so that he could face the two beings directly. "We have been trying to stop this all along!"

" _Really_ , Horseman?" the raven said, the wolf teeth in his beak dripping with saliva. "You told me you inherited my brother's sight! You told me that you had to kill one of your friends! I _never_ should have trusted you. You knew this would happen and the only reason you wouldn't have told me is that you _had something to do with it_!" he screamed, drawing back his winged arms so that he could sweep the air in front of him. "And we're going to stop you!"

"Ajax..." Niccolo said, drawing his arm back from his ribs and looking to the armored warrior. "Don't listen to him. He's a goddamn idiot who's going to get everyone killed. We're trying to save Hell," he finished, causing the massive Horseman to laugh in derision.

"What makes more sense, Nico? That you were greedy enough to betray everyone for some place on Earth, or that you really fucking _care_?" he asked, drawing within ten yards of Niccolo, raising the slab of iron and holding it so that it pointed at the fire-lit ceiling of Hell. "You would have told me if there was some conspiracy you were _stopping_."

"We didn't know who we could trust!" Cadmus shouted, responding to Ajax's actions by drawing his own weapon to his right side. "We're wasting time right now! We should all go to the palace and fix this!"

"No!" Amon cawed, spittle flying from his beak, followed by a burst of black fire. "We will _not_ let you destroy everything we have built!" Niccolo and Cadmus glared at their new opponents, determined to convince them otherwise, but when Ajax threw his great sword in a deadly horizontal arc, still attached to its chain, they knew the time for words was over.

"You fucking idiot!" Niccolo shouted before ducking underneath the path of the weapon, feeling the air above him rushing in its wake. He was about to roll forward before he felt the blade nick the top of his bow, yanking it out of its restraints and sending it clattering out of reach. The impact was enough to jerk him off his feet and onto his back, which only served to infuriate him more. He pushed himself off the ground with his arms and found his footing quickly, allowing him to rush at the armored warrior.

Meanwhile, Cadmus saw the huge weapon flying toward him and picked up his feet to stand on Mercy's saddle before jumping as high as he could. Wordlessly he urged his horse to disperse, watching Mercy turn to dust a moment before the iron slab burst through the cloud, sending motes of his friend scattering to the wind. Cadmus felt relieved that Mercy was out of danger, but when he looked toward his enemies, he found Amon flying straight at him. He was only just able to bring up the handle of his scythe between them before Amon's beak was inches from his face, his wolf teeth gaining purchase on the handle.

Niccolo did not bother to watch as Amon drove Cadmus back through the air; he was much more concerned with the furious Horseman who was pulling the chain of his weapon back toward him so that it would loop around for another strike. Without a second thought, Niccolo formed the handle of his bastard sword and swung his left arm across his chest, forming the wicked blade and gripping the handle with both hands. As he did, Ajax turned his back to Niccolo to travel along with the momentum of his great sword, pulling back the chain swiftly so that it would fly back to his hands. The armored warrior grabbed the handle just in time to bring the slab of iron back in a half-moon vertical arc, determined to crush Niccolo beneath its weight. Instead, the clash of their steel echoed throughout the street. Niccolo held his own bastard sword above his head and pushed against the flat of the sword with his right hand, glaring up at the warrior in a formidable stance.

"Look at you, little Nico," Ajax said, his bearded face filled with a mild amusement and the stink of alcohol coming from his ancient mouth. "Seems like you've grown up since our last duel."

"Stop this now, Ajax," Niccolo commanded, his grip strained underneath the weight of Ajax's weapon. "We are trying to _help_."

"Stop _now_?" he said with a slight smile before picking up the iron weapon slightly, causing Niccolo to stagger forward from the sudden release. Ajax then slammed the weapon back down, hoping to knock his opponent off of his feet. The warrior only smiled as Niccolo warded off the blow, but not before cracking the stones below him and sinking down by a half-inch. "But we're having so much _fun_."

"You're killing Lucifer!" Niccolo urged, throwing more of his strength into his arms to swipe away the iron slab. Ajax's weapon slid along the green blade and fell into the ground to Niccolo's right side as the leper's bastard sword remained in the air, but Niccolo was not prepared for the giant warrior to rush forward with his shoulder, knocking him backward and off balance. He fell to his back once more and looked up just in time to see Ajax raising the great sword above his head, preparing for a downward strike.

" _You_ killed him, Nico! You killed him with your little beggar act! You made him _soft_!" he shouted before swinging the slab of iron down to crush his opponent, but Niccolo rolled over in time to miss the two-inch wide "edge." The resulting wave of stones and dirt pushed him back as he rolled, sending him tumbling a few yards away from the gash Ajax had made in the road. He stopped on his stomach before pushing himself up enough to gain his footing and launch into a ready position. He held his blade with his right hand and sliced across the air in front of him.

"I have done _nothing_ wrong, Ajax!" he shouted, bringing a weary chuckle from the legend slowly picking up his blade from the trench it had made in the street.

"Then how did you end up in Hell, little Nico?" he teased, turning to face his opponent. "Face it, Horseboy, you wouldn't have come down here if you didn't deserve it!"

"Shut up! Shut up, you fucking bastard!" Niccolo screamed, his diseased arm shaking in his fury. "I didn't deserve any of this! I've been trying my best and all I want to do right now is save the angel who stood for us all!"

"You didn't deserve it, Nico?" Ajax asked before standing up to his full, impressive, height, picking up his sword lazily and laying it against his pauldron. "What makes you say that? What makes you think you don't belong here with the rest of us? What makes you think you're _better_ than us? That you can make decisions without considering any of us?"

"Ajax..." Niccolo growled, but the armored warrior continued talking over him.

"I never liked you, Nico. You were always a pain in the ass. A snarky, cowardly son of a bitch. Somehow you became everybody's favorite, though. Lucifer _himself_ took you under his wing and taught you everything you know. And still you want _more,_ " he said before sighing heavily and glaring at Niccolo just a few yards away. "I am a legend and I get less respect than a goddamned thief and beggar."

"This isn't about respect, Ajax," Niccolo said, placing both of his hands around the handle of his bastard sword and starting to circle his opponent. "If we go now we can still save Lucifer. We can save Hell. We can stop whatever the Shroud is planning," he concluded, drawing a scoff from the massive Horseman.

"Who are you kidding, little Nico? This is _all_ about respect. You don't respect me, and I don't respect you. How could we even _start_ to trust each other?" he asked before lowering his blade from his shoulder and bringing it to his side. "We're done with words. You make me bleed, we'll see what happens."

Niccolo grunted before running forward, his blade carried to his right. At the same time, Ajax threw his blade forward, the chains rattling as the deadly missile sailed toward his opponent.

***

Cadmus was worried as he was pushed through the air, Amon's momentum sending them far from Niccolo and Ajax. On one hand, Cadmus was grateful for the space, he knew what Ajax was able to do with that sword, but he also knew that the raving demon biting the handle of his scythe would not give up easily.

"Amon, will you just...listen," Cadmus urged, trying to stop Amon's beak from getting closer to his face. The fallen angel could rip Cadmus' face off with those wolf teeth of his, not to mention the black fire coming from his eyes was making the reaper's skin dry up from that distance.

Suddenly, Amon let go of Cadmus' scythe and flapped his wings, rising into the sky above them just as Cadmus was falling to the street. The reaper cursed as he twisted through the air, wondering how far above the ground Amon had carried them. When he saw the stones rushing to meet his face, Cadmus did the only thing he could think of and slammed his scythe into street, burying the blade into the ground and sending a small shockwave through the air.

" _Listen_ , Horseman? You kill my brother and reap his soul, and you expect me to just _forgive you_?" Amon said, flapping his arms so that he could stay in the same position thirty yards away from his opponent. "When you talked to me yesterday it took all of my willpower not to peck out your eyes!"

"Just stop, Amon," Cadmus commanded as he fell to his feet, bracing his legs before pulling his scythe out of the street, all the while maintaining eye contact with the furious raven. "I had _nothing_ to do with Räum turning feral and all we are trying to do is help! Hell is going to fall without us! The Shroud is trying to open a portal to Earth!" Cadmus' revelations were met with a shriek from Amon, echoing throughout the Famine Quarter.

"You think _I_ don't know that?! I see the future just as well as my brother, just as well as you! I know they're opening the portal. I've seen it!"

"Then _why_ are you trying to stop us?" Cadmus shouted, whispering to Mercy in his mind. The rasp of a moan from his horse concerned him, but it was enough for the reaper to know that the pale horse was still alive. Amon flapped his wings harder at the question and flames burst from his open beak.

"You kept the truth from _me_ , _Pale Rider_ ," Amon said before turning his head toward Cadmus, a growl somehow coming from his throat. "You held the _future_ from me. Me! The one who told the prophecies! I _cannot_ forgive that."

"This is about _pride_?" Cadmus asked, his eyes narrowing at the fallen angel's behavior.

_Of all the things to be sore about_ , Mercy's voice rattled in his head, agreeing with his master. The avian demon above them did not find it as light a statement.

"This is about knowing your place, reaper. _I_ tell the future. _You_ reap souls," Amon said with his mouth slightly open, his teeth threatening violence.

_Like his brother?_ Mercy thought, causing Cadmus to hush him in his mind. This was not the time for it, and even in his frustration Cadmus was trying to resolve the situation. The reaper squared up to the demon flying in the skies of Hell and breathed in deeply.

"If you don't get out of our way, we will have to kill you. Do you understand? We'll have to kill you in order to save Lucifer, to save Hell," Cadmus stated, his voice as serious as he could make it. The demon flying above him only flapped his wings harder, climbing into the sky.

"Wrong, Pale Rider. You will only _try_ ," Amon shrieked before taking off even higher, his form twisting as his black feathers blended into the dark sky of Hell. Cadmus waited for a moment, hoping to find Amon in the darkness, but when he heard the scream echoing from behind him, he knew he was looking in the wrong place. Dust coalesced below him, turning into a pale horse which carried him from where he had been standing just in time for them to escape the onslaught of Amon and the impact crater. When Cadmus turned Mercy around in order to see their enemy, the reaper was hard-pressed to not give into fear.

Amon might have been somewhat unintimidating before, but his fury had transformed him into an entirely new monster. His head had completely changed, becoming mostly human except for his mouth, which was extended to accommodate the wolf teeth that were exposed by the lack of skin around his maw. His eyes burned with black fire and his hair was a crown of bird feathers, but his body was more distracting.

While his frame was mostly human, two massive black wings spread out from his back, the skin attached to the sides of his torso and raven's feathers covering them, and the new limbs were complemented by black hands, the fingers gruesomely extended, covered with scales and ending with sharp talons. Where his real arms should be were two withered, human arms, barely long enough to reach the end of Amon's rib-cage, but perpetually curled in on themselves. The extra-long nails of those underdeveloped limbs ended in vicious talons as well, but Cadmus figured they were rarely used. Finally, Amon's legs were not human at all, covered in yellow scales and the knees bent backward, but Cadmus was wary of them. Powerful muscles could be seen in the demon's thighs, and the talons on his feet looked sharper than the reaper's own scythe.

"Why run, _Pale Rider_?" Amon said as he turned to face Cadmus on his horse. "You killed my brother already. Why are you scared of _me_?" he growled, saliva dripping from his lipless mouth, pouring down from the grooves in his gum line.

"I'm not scared, Amon," Cadmus said, reclaiming his poise and turning Mercy to face the demon. "I'm just not stupid enough to let you kill me," he said before tapping Mercy's sides with his boots, the creature breaking into a gallop at his instruction.

"Then you should have kept running," Amon barked as he started running toward the Horseman, hobbling slightly on his malformed legs. Cadmus led Mercy to the demon's right side, hoping to catch Amon with the sharp edge of his scythe, but when he sliced across Amon's body, he only felt the grinding of talon against steel as Amon jumped up and parried the strike, twisting in the air so that he could sink the talons of his left foot into Cadmus' chest.

The reaper was only just able to bring up the handle of his weapon and met the bottom of Amon's foot, hoping to ward off the strike. As strong as he was, because of his momentum and Amon's strength, the demon's foot was able to push forward and an inch of his talons sank into Cadmus' leather cuirass, causing a great deal of pain in his chest before the demon flapped his grotesque wings, flying above him.

"First blood is mine, Horseman. I can see every move you make before you make it," Amon cackled as he flew up into the air, leaving Cadmus to grimace in pain as he considered his options. Knowing they were losing too much time with this battle, Cadmus looked toward Amon, who was smiling as he held himself in the air. The reaper looked past him, toward the stairs leading to the palace, and found the perfect solution to his problem. Cadmus pointed at the demon in the air behind him, took a deep breath and yelled as loud as he could.

"NICCOLO!"

***

The Horseman of Pestilence jumped high into the air, having avoided Ajax's flying blade, and raised his bastard sword above his shoulders. Unarmed, Ajax might have been easily dispatched by a powerful downward strike, but Niccolo underestimated the legend's sheer talent and experience. Ajax pulled back on the chain attached to the slab of iron and immediately slammed his foot down on top of the hell-forged links of metal, causing a swift redirection of the sword's movement. Before Niccolo could land his downward strike, Ajax's weapon was yanked back and upward, flying straight into the leper's unguarded back.

Pain spread from the impact, causing Niccolo to let go of the handle of his sword and force him from consciousness for a split-second. Accompanied by deep bellows of laughter from his opponent, Niccolo hit the ground hard, feeling his joints popping as he landed on them. As he tried to keep his wits about him, Niccolo was just grateful he had not been torn in half by the dull edge of Ajax's blade.

"See? Why would I respect that?" Ajax teased as he stomped forward, Niccolo's head still cloudy from the pain. The only thing that saved him was the strength flowing from the beast mentally attached to him.

_Yeah, hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?_ Plague asked, his own voice filled with pain. Niccolo pushed himself off the ground, his arms shaking from the effort and, before he extended his arms fully, his torso convulsed, causing him to cough out a mouthful of blood.

_I didn't say it didn't,_ Niccolo thought back before sitting back on his knees, watching the armored warrior stomping toward him. He groaned before looking to his side and finding his gnarled, black bow was just a few yards away. It was enough to make him laugh for a moment, but quickly he reached behind him to see the state of his quiver. Niccolo smiled as he found there was nothing wrong with the wooden missiles, grateful that the sword had somehow missed that part of his back.

"C'mon, Ajax," Niccolo said, raising his knee and setting his foot down to push himself to his feet. Swaying from the effort, the leper was still able to smile and tease his opponent. "I just wanted to make it interesting."

"You'll have to try more than that," Ajax said, stopping a twenty yards away from him. He then looked at Niccolo's bow lying on the ground and nodded toward it. "Go ahead. Fighting an unarmed opponent isn't worth it." Niccolo huffed at that, but continued smiling as he bowed and then stood back up with a flourish. He lazily walked over to the bow and grabbed the twisted wood, not bothering to look as the weapon re-strung itself, instead watching the armored warrior in front of him.

"Then let's just finish this, Ajax. Go all the way," Niccolo said before stepping forward and summoning Plague, the green mist spreading out beneath him and then raising him up. Ajax watched his display and shook his head before laughing, setting the point of his massive sword into the ground at his feet.

"You're going to joust me, little Nico? With a goddamned _bow_ _and_ _arrow_?" he asked, drawing a shrug from the leper.

"Unless you think it's unfair for you to be so outmatched," Niccolo said, a growl coming from the armored legend before he jumped ten feet straight into the air.

"Fury, to me!" the warrior shouted, a mass of red muscle and blood creating a form beneath him. The red skin of his horse wrapped around the bundles of tissue and fell with him, its legs slamming into the ground before Fury was finished with his manifestation. Ajax held his sword out to the side and waited as the red horse walked forward and completed its formation, huffing out air from its nostrils as the beast shook its head, spare blood flicking away from its black mane. Niccolo could feel Plague sympathizing with the creature, but they both knew this battle was no place for that.

"C'mon then," Niccolo said before pulling a pair of arrows from his quiver, holding one between his index finger and middle and the other between his ring finger and pinky. Plague burst into a gallop just as he nocked the first arrow and pulled the string back, the tension almost enough to make him lose his grip on the second arrow.

Time seemed to slow down as the Horsemen bore down on each other and Niccolo could barely tell that Ajax was screaming his war cry. All he heard were the percussive strikes of Plague's hooves against the cobblestones and his own, labored breathing. He cleared his mind and summoned all of the strength he held, calling on all the souls he had ended. Suddenly it was too much and Niccolo was unable to keep the tense string from snapping back, sending an arrow screaming toward the approaching Horseman. He watched the arrow along its flight, absent-mindedly flicking the arrow in his others fingers up between his index and middle and catching it, and found there was a stream of green energy flowing along its path, unlike the red from when he had called on Valefor's power.

The arrow crashed into the hilt of Ajax's blade, sending a visible shockwave through the air and causing the warrior to drop his weapon to the ground, dragging it along as Fury rode ahead. Niccolo did not bother to gape in wonder and pulled back the string again, focusing on the armored Horseman's throat and letting the arrow fly. This time there was no light surrounding the missile and, even though it flew toward its target with deadly accuracy, Niccolo found that it did not have the desired effect. Ajax was able to bring up his gauntleted left hand up to block the arrow and, instead of sinking into the warrior's throat, it impaled his hand, making the warrior roar in anger.

Niccolo cursed as they passed each other, ducking under Ajax's right arm, which he had tried to throw into the leper's face. They rode past each other and Niccolo grabbed three arrows from his quiver, hoping that he could somehow summon that green energy once more, but when Plague turned and Niccolo drew back the string, he was interrupted by a shout from his fellow Horseman.

"NICCOLO!" Cadmus shouted, his voice strained from the effort, and Niccolo turned his attention to the pair dueling on Ajax's other side. Cadmus was on Mercy, pointing at a grotesque creature hanging in the sky. Though Niccolo would have preferred to focus on his own enemy, he knew that Cadmus would not have called for his help if he did not absolutely need it. Niccolo aimed at the flying creature and could not stop his thoughts from falling back to all of those shared years.

There was no way he would abandon his best friend.

***

Cadmus was still pointing at Amon when Niccolo loosed the trio of arrows, and was shocked to see them scream toward the twisted demon hanging in the air, bursting through the front of its abdomen and leaving a green trail of energy behind them. Amon screamed at the pain, his demonic bowels falling out of his ruptured torso, but Cadmus knew that the shock would only last for a moment. Summoning his own strength, the reaper drew back his arm and gripped the handle tightly before sending it forward in a spinning arc. Though lacking the spectacle of Niccolo's newfound power, the scythe carved through the air, whistling as it turned vertically end over end.

Amon reacted as fast as he could, recovering from the pain of being disemboweled by a man he could not predict, but when he brought his talons forward to knock away Cadmus' scythe, the sharp edge cut through the calcified nails like they were nothing and continued on its path. The demon yelped as the scythe cut into the double shoulder on his right, causing him to close his eyes instinctually.

Cadmus did not waste the opportunity he was given and had spurred Mercy on before the scythe had even landed. The white horse was already galloping toward their enemy when Cadmus urged Mercy to jump, the horse obeying instantly. They flew through the air, Mercy's powerful legs sending them to even greater heights than Cadmus thought they would, but it was still not high enough to reach the fallen angel.

Without a moment of hesitation, Cadmus brought up his legs to Mercy's saddle and pushed, rocketing himself even higher. The cloaked Horseman flew toward the demon and noticed Amon's eyes were opening just as Cadmus' fingers wrapped around the handle. They opened even wider once Cadmus pulled down with all of his might, the dormant power in him bursting through his veins and nerves.

The reaper fell down to the ground followed by a shower of blood and gore, complemented by the wet thump of Amon's right wing and underdeveloped right arm smacking against the floor. Cadmus, not even thinking about how he had landed from such a fall without the slightest bit of harm, slowly stood up and turned to find the ruined body of Amon had landed ten feet away, its legs broken and lying at unnatural angles.

"Impossible," Amon whimpered as he tried to rise up, using his sole wing to gain purchase and heave himself to a kneeling position. Cadmus just walked forward, his scythe held out to his right side, and gritted his teeth.

"This didn't have to happen, Amon," he said, watching as the demon turned to face him, its lipless face twisted in pain. "We were just trying to move on."

"Then do it, Horseman. I'll avenge my brother some other time," Amon growled, gathering his guts back into his abdomen with his left arm. Cadmus stopped two feet away from the demon before bringing his scythe up along Amon's left side, relieving the fallen angel of the arms he still had. The wolf hybrid howled in pain, looking down for a moment before looking back to the Pale Rider.

"You've wasted all the time you're going to have, Amon," Cadmus said before grabbing his scythe with both hands and drawing his weapon behind him, seeing the panic spreading through Amon's face.

"Wait!" he shouted, but Cadmus had already started the blade on its path. With absolutely no effort, Cadmus' blue-tinged scythe ripped through the flesh of the fallen's neck, separating Amon's head from his body.

Cadmus was prepared for the new onslaught of thoughts and power from Amon's soul and braced his palm against the side of his head, only shaking slightly as Amon's past and future memories flickered past him in a blue haze. With one memory in particular, Cadmus knew they had no more time to waste and ran forward, sending a telepathic cue to Mercy, who was already starting to gallop behind him.

He jumped, clearing the distance between Mercy's saddle and the ground with a light push from his feet, and settled in for the last ride he would make to the palace.

***

Niccolo looked down from the vibrating string just in time to feel the iron chain settle around his back and yank him out of his saddle, causing him to throw his black bow toward the steps leading to the palace. He cursed as he pushed himself off the ground, getting tired of Ajax's antics, but he was not the only one getting frustrated.

"Don't you EVER take your eyes off me again, Nico," Ajax said, his face almost as red as the armor he wore, and then dropped the heavy chain that he had been holding. He stalked toward Niccolo, which made the leper just a little nervous.

"I thought you wouldn't fight me unarmed," Niccolo said, wondering if he had enough time to reform his blade, but when Ajax ripped the chain from around his right gauntlet, he knew exactly what the Horseman wanted.

"Do you see any _goddamned_ weapons? Now fight me like a warrior, Niccolo. Don't let me down, now," Ajax said before closing the distance and aiming a right cross toward his opponent. Niccolo ducked to his left side and brought up his own hands just in time for Ajax's forearm to slam against his right arm.

"Are you really...this fucking dense, Ajax?" Niccolo asked at the same time as he threw the claws of his left hand against the crimson armor of the warrior's torso, tearing deep gashes with two of his fingers. "We can stop fighting at any time."

"But WHY?!" Ajax shouted before twisting his entire body and slamming his left hand into Niccolo's face, causing the leper to stagger backward, his mind retreating to a dark place. He was saved from falling by Ajax wrapping his massive arms around him in a bear hug, keeping his arms pinned to his sides. "When it's just getting _interesting_?"

Niccolo cried out as Ajax pulled his arms closer together, causing Niccolo's ribs to creak under the effort, the scales of his own armor digging into his skin. In desperation, the leper looked down and threw his head forward, trying to break the legendary warrior's nose with his forehead.

He succeeded, but instead of being stunned, Ajax grunted, furrowed his brow and then threw his own head forward, cracking Niccolo's nose in return. Dazed by the pain, Niccolo was only brought back to reality by Ajax squeezing even harder, smiling as he saw Niccolo's face twisting in pain.

"Is that it, Nico? I expected more," Ajax teased, his breath strained a bit by the effort of constricting his opponent. Niccolo was running out of breath and could feel his ribs sliding out of place, buckling under the pressure, and his thoughts fell to the possibility that he might die. Then, when he was about to give up, Niccolo looked up and saw the flames rising from Lucifer's palace. Suddenly, death was not an option. Niccolo could not even consider that his life was about to end in this place and in such a way.

After all, if he died, there was no hope for Lucifer.

Niccolo screamed, his rage, frustration and his love for his father figure all combining with the latent power of the demonic king he had killed. He pushed his arms out and up, breaking Ajax's hold and throwing them back from the force. When he landed, Niccolo thrust his left hand forward, the screech of metal echoing in his ears. After a deep breath, Niccolo was shocked back into the present by his arm being yanked down. Slightly confused, Niccolo looked down and found Ajax kneeling, both of his gauntleted hands wrapped around Niccolo's demonic forearm, which was buried wrist-deep in the warrior's chest. Unable to think of some witty response, Niccolo just breathed shakily before Ajax looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears.

"Go on, then. Do it," the warrior said, his voice weak, blood dribbling from the sides of his mouth. Niccolo realized that he had yet to destroy Ajax's heart, his clawed hand still wrapped around it. The leper uncurled his fingers and tried to pull out his arm, but Ajax's hands kept him from being able to do it.

"Ajax, you could live, just give me back my arm," Niccolo pleaded, trying to pull out his hand, but Ajax would not budge. He slowly shook his head and a new stream of tears fell down to his beard.

"You beat me, Niccolo. After more than four thousand years, someone beat me," he said, causing Niccolo to shake his head in confusion.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Niccolo argued, but Ajax pulled, sinking Niccolo's hand further into his chest.

"This is the way, Niccolo. A warrior's life is ended when he has been defeated. Take my strength and use it for your goals, whatever they are," he commanded, causing Niccolo to shake his head again, desperate to save his enemy's life.

"You could fight beside me, Ajax. We can save Hell together!" he shouted, but Ajax's face shook with fury.

"Kill me, you bastard! Do NOT deny me my glorious death!" Ajax commanded, squeezing Niccolo's arm enough to trigger a reflexive curl of his fingers, and then yanked Niccolo's arm out of his body, dragging his own heart out with it.

"Ajax..." Niccolo muttered, unable to believe his fellow Horseman, but when Ajax's lifeless body fell to the street, he found the warrior's lips were curled into a grim smile. Niccolo looked down at his demonic arm and found it covered in blood, the heart of Ajax the Greater lying still in his palm.

Niccolo was not ready for the sudden flood of power flowing from that soft tissue into his demonic arm, causing him to double over in pain. Countless acts of violence and centuries of pain and glory coursed through him, his muscles vibrating as they recalled memories that did not belong to them. Niccolo was gasping for air as he became used to the sudden influx of strength, only just able to see Cadmus approaching, his face as stern as it could be.

Niccolo did not have to say a word, even give a hint, to the black horse running toward him. When Plague turned to face the stairs to the palace, Niccolo had already picked up his bow from the ground and had rushed up to Plague's side. He planted his arm down on the saddle and launched himself onto his horse's back, gathering the reins before Plague reared back, throwing its hooves into the air.

When he set his front legs back to the ground, Plague launched himself up the steps joining the Famine Quarter to the palace, Mercy at his side as they rushed forward. Niccolo and Cadmus shared only one look, nodding before turning back to the burning palace. Cadmus held his scythe at the ready and Niccolo already had an arrow nocked against his bow string.

And so the Horsemen rode, desperate to save the Devil.

***

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were almost taken out by a terror streaking past them, making both Plague and Mercy balk. Confused by what they had just seen, it took the Horsemen a moment to realize that a centaur wearing spiked armor had galloped past them with a silver lance, two men speared through the middle getting carried in front of him.

"Holy shit, is that Buer?" Niccolo asked, causing the terrifying creature to turn its head toward them, his lance buried into the wall in front of him.

"Niccolo? Cadmus!" a familiar, if somewhat more intimidating, voice rang out from the metal skull on the creature's head, bright red horsehair sprouting from the top and twirling in the air. "Where have you been?"

"We were sent to get Moloch!" Niccolo shouted, jumping down from Plague and letting the horse dissolve into green mist. Both he and Mercy would be useless inside the palace.

"Oh no," Buer said unintentionally before getting distracted by the closest foot-soldier on his lance, who was trying to push the weapon out of his chest. Buer just drove the lance in deeper, causing the demon to slump over, and then turned back to them. "Where is he?"

"He's taking care of Cimeries! We were attacked by Viné, Balam and his men and she was wounded," Cadmus said, letting Mercy crumble into the ether and falling to the ground, walking toward the centaur.

"Damn it all," Buer said before reclaiming his weapon from the wall and swinging it around, sending the corpses of the impaled demons sprawling along the ground. "Get inside, I have the courtyard." At that statement, the Horsemen looked around and found there were far more demons fighting it out, forcing steel against steel and letting blood fall all around them.

"Has Astaroth arrived?" Cadmus asked, which was met with a hearty laugh from the centaur.

"See for yourself. Over the entrance of the War Quarter," Buer said, pointing toward the sky. The Horsemen turned just in time to see a bright, white flare coming from hundreds of yards in the air, followed by a column of white energy bursting from the source. When the column met the ground, the Horsemen had to steady themselves as the eruption shook the entire grounds of the palace. As soon as it happened it was gone, causing the humans to breathe for a moment before looking at the Horseman.

"Astaroth is the one fallen you never need to worry about. Now go! Remember your vision, Cadmus!" he shouted, pointing his hand toward the entrance to the castle.

"Are you sure? " Niccolo asked, drawing a tired laugh from the centaur, who straightened his back and somehow became more intimidating.

"I'm rusty, Nico, but I've survived my share of wars. Leave me to these newborns!" he commanded before rearing back and letting out a war cry. When he landed, he used his powerful legs to leap into the fray, sending bodies flying every which way. The Horsemen only watched for a moment before reclaiming their senses and running toward the entrance of the palace.

As they were running, Niccolo remembered how Cimeries had used her pike in order to open the massive iron doors and decided he could try doing just the same. Niccolo pulled back the string of his black bow, concentrating on the strike, and then released the tension. A green arrow flew toward the door on the right, but Niccolo could not have expected the outcome. Instead of opening, the force was too much for the door and the entire slab flew backward, breaking out of its mooring and sliding through the entrance hallway. It was enough for the Horsemen to look at each other in amazement.

"How the hell did you do that?" Cadmus asked in alarm before turning back to the entrance. Niccolo turned with him, unable to comprehend his newfound strength.

"I...I don't know," he confessed, grabbing another arrow from his quiver and leaping past the small set of stairs, bounding past the threshold into the palace.

He had no time to be confused.

They looked to the left hallway and found Phenex with his back turned, holding a group of demons behind a wall of flame and advancing it toward them. Then, when they heard the screams coming from the right and turned, they noticed a blur of shadows and blood spraying against the walls. It only took them a second to realize that Marchosias was in his bloodlust, turning from one adversary to the next. Instead of marveling at the demons' efficiency, Cadmus tapped Niccolo's shoulder and led them to the Reception Hall, hoping they could find someone who could tell them where Lucifer was making his stand.

When they arrived, the stench of newly-made corpses forced the Horsemen to cover their mouths and noses; otherwise they would have gagged on the smell. There was so much detail to take in, so many demons lying in pools of organs and blood, but what was most alarming was the crowd of demons in the center, all focused on the solitary threat to their lives.

"Is that..." Niccolo started, dropping his hand to his side and almost releasing his weapon, instinct being the only thing that kept him from doing so, and just gaped at the horror in front of him. Cadmus joined him, but at least he was able to finish his friend's thought.

"The Leviathan..." Cadmus muttered, staring at the creature able to take on thirty demons at once. In the middle of battle, the Leviathan cared nothing for appearance and had let his twisted and horrific body stand exposed. A massive, round belly with odd protrusions hung ten feet in the air, suspended by eight, long gangly limbs like a spider. Pain-ridden faces moaned beneath the skin of its torso and limbs, but even that was not as terrible as the creature's face.

The giant gold mask with the blue cross was a kindness, as when it split open vertically, countless, four-inch long fangs lined each side, three long tongues with three malformed fingers, lined with barbs, whipped about and wrapped around its prey. Cadmus and Niccolo were just in time for a display of violence, as the Leviathan wrapped two of its tongues around one of Beleth's armored guards and then used the third to tear off the man's helmet, letting him scream before attaching to his face and ripping off the flesh before withdrawing into its throat.

Then the creature used its tongues to throw the screaming demon into the air in front of it and then slammed its mouth closed around his midsection, causing the demon's legs and lower torso to fall to the ground with a wet thump. After the man's screams stopped, the creature seemed to swallow before another face appeared on its back, squeezing in between the ones already present. The creature then calmly turned and seemed to stare at Niccolo before its blue eyes flared.

"Nico!" it screamed with twin voices, turning its body to face him. "How pleasant for you to show up!"

"Uh...hi," Niccolo said under his breath, causing the creature to tilt its mask to the side, the demons all around him still attacking him to no effect.

"Isn't this _wonderful_? We did not expect a meal. You should have your fill, Horseman," the Leviathan said before turning its attention back to the demons at his feet, his terrible mask opening once more and blood spraying as it roared with twin voices.

"Now you know why we're afraid of him," came a weak statement from their left. The Horsemen turned to find Zagan next to another disgusting corpse that looked vaguely amphibian. When they came nearer, they found the horned giant was holding a bloody hand to his midsection.

"Wha...what happened?" Niccolo asked, determined to forget the grisly display occurring just a hundred yards away. Zagan chuckled softly before nodding to the green corpse lying nearby. As they looked at the creature, which was adorned with a number of black horns sticking out of its back, Niccolo was able to see that its neck was torn open and its eyes gouged out.

"Bael, that bastard. Here I was thinking he was my brother, but then he throws a dozen of his fucking horns into my gut," he said, wincing as he shifted his back up against the wall. "I'm telling you guys, never trust family."

"Bael did this?" Cadmus asked, not expecting anything but a sarcastic reply. He did not wait for it and instead continued. "What's the situation? Where is everybody?"

"Too...goddamn serious, reaper. But that's alright. Last I heard, Purson, Furcas and Lucifer were in the throne room. Amdusias and Asmodeus are fighting Beleth down at the Overlook. Paimon..." he said before grimacing in pain, his face becoming a little paler. "Paimon's somewhere, I don't know."

"Last we saw, she was with Lucifer and Azazel," Niccolo said, trying to ignore the screams coming from the other end of the hall. Zagan shrugged, which he instantly regretted because of the pain, and then shook his head.

"They split early on, once the fighting started in earnest. Paimon and Azazel went off to the entrance of the Pestilence Quarter, trying to find...something... God, this hurts," he said, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back at the two humans in front of him. "Well, fuck, get a move on, you dirty bastards! Lucifer's been waiting for you!"

"Right," Niccolo said before looking toward the throne room, past the feasting Leviathan. "You just going to stay there crying, Zagan?"

"Hah, only letting that slide because I like you," Zagan muttered, drawing the attention of the Horsemen before grabbing his wine bottle and emptying it out over his midsection, causing the giant to arch his back in a pain-induced spasm. When he settled back against the wall, he sighed deeply. "Bael's little horns are poisonous. I'm not going to be able to move my legs for at least a day."

"Then how did you kill Bael?" Cadmus asked, which brought a weary laugh from the demon king. He then pointed at his horns, which they just realized were covered in blood.

"Threw him off me and then slammed my head in his throat. Figured it'd be worth it," he said before nodding at the throne room. "Now, go! Save my big brother!"

The Horsemen did not need any more hints and started sprinting toward the throne room. As they came closer to the Leviathan, the hostile demons noticed their approach and turned to face them. Niccolo was about to shoot another arrow, Cadmus about to sweep his blade, when the pair of demons were grabbed by grey, six-fingered hands. They looked up to see the Leviathan with eyes burning in joy.

"Good luck, Horsemen!" it said with a light tone before throwing both of his hands holding the soldiers down his throat, causing Niccolo's jaw to slack in horror. He only regained himself once Cadmus smacked him on the shoulder, causing him to double his speed toward the doors to the throne room and easily running past the reaper who was now falling behind. Covering the last amount of distance in three bounds, Niccolo wrapped his fingers around the handle and breathed out deeply.

He pulled and braced himself for what he might see.

***

"LUCIFER!" a shout came from the entrance to the throne room. Lucifer turned around from discussing the battle plan with Furcas and Purson, the giant snake's hood flaring out as it recognized the threat, to find Belial rushing forward, his dark wings already clouding the air on the far side of the throne room. In his right hand was a short sword with tendrils of dark energy that trailed behind him and in his left hand was a dark buckler. The Devil sneered at his brother, his ever-shifting throne behind him and his dark bodyguard to his right, and turned to face Belial with his divine weapons.

"So this is how it has to be? The morning against the evening? Lux against Nyx?" he asked, the light from his buckler filling the throne room. He stepped forward to engage his opposite when he heard a shout from behind him.

"Brother! Behind you!" Purson shouted, allowing Lucifer enough time to quickly turn just as Furcas' spear tore a gash along his side and back. The Devil brought down Lux, slamming the African knight's spear against the ground, but Furcas quickly pulled back on the handle so he could thrust a second time.

" _You_ , Furcas? Why?" Lucifer snarled, forgetting his brother momentarily as the Hell Knight poked at his defenses once more, which the angel parried easily with his buckler.

"This was your future as soon as you chose the bitch over me," Furcas said in a low voice, swinging his spear to the right before swiping it at Lucifer's feet, which the fallen angel merely hopped over. "When you chose, I chose another."

"Looks like I was right, then," Lucifer said, about to parry Furcas' next swipe before Purson slithered forward and lunged at the Hell Knight's back, causing Furcas to duck toward Lucifer's throne. Knowing that Purson should be able to handle the warrior, Lucifer turned to face his other sibling, who was merely waiting in the middle of the throne room.

"You're bleeding, _Scratch,_ " Belial said with a flourish of his dark blade, mocking his counterpart. Lucifer frowned at the dark angel, merely advancing forward as he let his wings stretch out of his back.

"You don't get to use that name, Belial. Only the people I love get to do that," Lucifer said as he approached his corpse-like brother, both of them starting to circle around each other once they were within a few yards.

"Oh, you don't _love_ me anymore, brother?" Belial asked with a heavy dose of venom. Lucifer tilted his neck, cracking his spine, before shaking his head.

"You might as well drop the family act, too. Those who betray me are not worthy of it," he muttered, causing Belial to scream out the next words, darkness pouring out of his empty eye sockets.

" _THOSE WHO BETRAY YOU? You_ betrayed us first, Lucifer!" Belial shouted, his black wings stretching to their full magnificence. " _You_ led us to rot in Hell! You never should have lived past that first dark night!"

"Is that what this is about, Belial?" Lucifer shouted, bringing his shield to bear and his sword into a ready position. He looked over his brother's shoulder to see Purson and Furcas exchanging blows, although the snake seemed to be worse for wear; Lucifer would have to finish this quickly. The Devil looked back into his brother's dark eyes and narrowed his eyes to slits. "Just because I failed during the war?"

"Among other things, _Scratch_ ," Belial said, bringing his own shield to bear. "Beleth cared most about that, but I only wanted Earth."

"You want Earth?" Lucifer asked before continuing their circling motion. The corpse-like angel across from him grinned to show the gaps in his front teeth, the holes in his cheeks showing what remained.

"Of course! That which was given to your precious humans should have been given to us! I don't want to wait for the Apocalypse, _brother_. I want it now!" he screamed before clearing the distance between them with a quick hop, striking forward with a thrust toward Lucifer's midsection. The fallen angel smacked away the fast blade with Morningstar and then brought his short sword crashing down at Belial's head, which was stopped by the dark angel's own buckler.

"Are you insane? Adonai will just kill you there!" Lucifer shouted, grabbing Belial's wrist, forcing his sword arm down to the ground. Belial snarled before attacking with his buckler, catching the fallen angel by the throat and causing him to jump back after relinquishing control.

"Will he really, Lucifer? Or did we make this deal through him?" Belial said before jumping into the air and spinning, bringing Nyx across his body in a vicious arc. Though the blade itself was a few feet away from striking Lucifer, a black arc of energy rushed toward the Devil's position. Lucifer quickly jumped into the air and flipped backward, his wings just clearing the ground, and flapped them once before landing against the stone of the throne room.

"You made a fucking _deal?_ " Lucifer asked, his voice almost coming out in a growl. Belial's corpse-like face twisted into a malicious grin as he stood up.

" _Of_ _course_ we did. We would be allowed to reign on Earth for a few decades, make your humans _suffer,_ " he squealed in delight, chuckling before continuing, "and then when Adonai makes his new universe we'd get to be our own Gods. Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Belial teased, which was more than Lucifer could take. He gathered his divine rage into his short blade and swung it up and to the left, creating a radiant arc of energy which cut through the floor and rushed toward his brother. The demon king jumped high in the air before flapping his wings, hovering in place while sending diseased air toward Lucifer.

"You're a fool, Belial," Lucifer said, his limbs shaking in his anger. "Adonai will give you _nothing!_ " Lucifer shouted, squatting down to gather power into his legs before pushing, rising into the air to meet his dark brother. "So I will send you to nothing!"

"Strong words!" Belial screamed as he brought his blade to meet his brother. When he brought Nyx down, creating a dark projection of anger, Lucifer brought Lux up with his own radiant weapon. The eruption from their clash was enough to throw them both backward and sink into the high walls of the throne room. Both fallen angels coughed for a moment, recovering from the meeting of their blades, but soon Belial looked forward with a chuckle. "Though it looks like you're no stronger than me, brother."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Belial," Lucifer groaned, pushing himself out of his crater and then flapping his wings to maintain his altitude. "For instance," he said before looking at Belial with a smirk, "I wasn't fooled into believing a man who hides behind a shroud."

"Hah," Belial laughed before pushing out of his own crater and then pumping his black wings, a solidified darkness pouring out of the stone behind him. "You think I don't know who the Shroud is, brother? How foolish."

"Oh, I know you know," Lucifer said before rotating his right arm in its socket, setting it back to his side after feeling a satisfying pop. He then turned his golden eyes to the fallen angel across the hall. "It just shows how _worthless_ you really are."

At the old insult, Belial screamed and flapped his wings to launch himself at his brother. Easily goading his opponent into a foolish rush attack, Lucifer calmly approached and waited for his time to strike. They met closer to Lucifer's side of the Throne Room, Belial brazenly leading with a thrust from his sword. Lucifer merely flapped his swings powerfully just before the strike, floating above his dark brother, and then sent out a powerful arc of light just a foot above Belial's back.

With a scream, Belial realized his mistake, but he did not have enough time to counter Lucifer's actions. The vicious arc of energy burned through his dark wings, causing Belial to plummet from his flight path, instead slamming into the wall behind Lucifer. The Devil merely grabbed at Belial's robes, the traitor stunned from the impact, and then threw him toward the ground. The corpse-like demon gasped in pain as he fell, still feeling the ghostly pain of his separated wings, and did not even notice his sword clattering against the nearby wall. He writhed about for a moment more before Lucifer landed on top of him, the point of Lux at Belial's throat.

"There's a reason he always called you worthless, brother," Lucifer stated, drawing a furious darkness from Belial's eye sockets.

"I am your opposite, Lucifer!" Belial screamed before Lucifer used his knee to draw out his breath and cause him to stretch backward, forcing him to watch the scene play out by Lucifer's shifting throne.

"He made you that way. And yet, Belial, he _still_ called you that," Lucifer muttered, his anger for his brother more than he could bear. Instead of desperate cries, he was met with Belial's laughter. "What's so funny?"

"L-look," Belial said before pointing toward the throne, which drew Lucifer's gaze. In horror, the ruler of Hell saw Purson swaying, the narrow spaces between his scales running with little streams of blood, and saw Furcas jumping forward with his spear.

"No!" he shouted, leaping from his corpse-like brother, fully aware he was already too late. If he had not stopped to mock his brother, if he had spent less time finding out what was happening behind the scenes, Lucifer may have been able to do something.

Instead, he watched Furcas sink his spear deep into Purson's chest, forcing a cough of blood to come out of the demonic king's throat. Lucifer kept running, flapping his wings to increase his speed, but Furcas was not a soul to be taken lightly. With lightning speed the Hell Knight pulled back his spear before thrusting it higher in Purson's body, repeating the process two more times before lowering his aim and stabbing the snake below the heart.

"Stop it!" Lucifer screamed, his golden eyes running with tears, but Furcas did not bother to heed his words. The warrior pulled his spear upward, running the edge of the spearhead through the demon's body and cutting into the wounds he had already made, and eventually out of Purson's long neck, sending a shower of blood from the demon king.

In his grief, Lucifer almost blacked out. He had lost another of his siblings due to his incompetence and his pride and it was almost more than he could handle. When he finally regained his senses, he was looking down into the fear-stricken eyes of Furcas. Lucifer was confused for a moment, wondering how this came to be, but then looked down at his right hand. Lux was buried hilt-deep in the man's chest, the life already emptying from his brown eyes. Lucifer hardened his heart at that moment, sinking deep into his vengeance, and then shoved on Furcas' chest. The Hell Knight's body fell to the ground near the shifting throne, leaving Lucifer alone with his wingless brother.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Lucifer turned to the left of his throne just in time to feel a burning pain in his chest. When he looked down, he saw a bloody inch of steel protruding just to the left of his sternum. He felt a strong hand wrap around his right shoulder before hearing a familiar voice just behind his left ear.

"You _can't_ say you didn't see this coming."

***

Niccolo pulled open the door to the very scene he feared.

Lucifer fell to his knees, holding his hand to his chest, and a man in a grey cloak stood behind him with a bloody knife in his right hand. While Niccolo struggled to take it all in, the cloaked figure turned toward the entrance and slowly walked forward.

"No!" Niccolo screamed, tears coming unbidden to both healthy and ruined eyes, and ran forward, the blade forming in his diseased hand. He was stopped in his path by Belial, who had stood up and blocked him from continuing, a grin spread across his grey face.

"Where do you think you're going, Horseman?" Belial asked, his sword and shield held in front of him while his mutilated wings oozed out dark blood.

"Get out of my way, bastard," Niccolo said, his voice shaking with violence. He was about to attack him when the Shroud walked closer and held up his hand, motioning for them to stop.

"Hey, hey, we've had plenty of violence today," the cloaked figure said, holding the blade in his left hand lazily. There was something about the mystery demon which seemed very familiar, but in his rage, Niccolo could not quite place it in his memories.

"I don't believe it," Cadmus muttered as he walked up to Niccolo's side, his scythe held to his right. Niccolo glanced at him, still holding his bastard sword in front of him, and furrowed his brow.

"Don't believe what?" he asked, unable to wait for the reaper's answer, as a sharp cry went out from the demon king ahead of them. The Horsemen turned to find Belial standing straight up, the same dagger used to kill Lucifer now bursting through his own chest. He stood there for a moment, despair and confusion displayed through his features.

"But...why?" he asked, drawing a light laugh from the cloaked figure behind him. The Shroud lowered his head to Belial's ear and set his hand on the demonic king's right shoulder, just as he had done to Lucifer.

"Word's going around that you're _worthless_. Thought you should know," the Shroud teased before withdrawing the blade and pushing Belial's corpse toward the Horsemen. Niccolo looked at the fallen body, his thoughts muddled, and then turned his attention back to the cloaked figure who had murdered Lucifer.

"Who...who are you?" he asked, his voice shaking as his mind was flooded with mixed emotions. The demon behind the hood laughed briefly before setting his right hand on his hip, turning slightly to face Cadmus.

"You want to tell him or should I?" he asked, causing Cadmus to grip the handle of his weapon even tighter.

"Enough fucking games," Cadmus said, making the cloaked figure sigh before shaking its head beneath the hood. After displaying his disdain, the demon raised its grey-skinned hands and pulled back his hood.

" _AZAZEL?_ " Niccolo shouted, forcing a grin from the blindfolded demon grin.

"Oh, _c'mon_!" he cried, turning to Cadmus in disbelief. "You _really_ didn't think it was me?"

"Why did you do it?" Cadmus asked, making the traitor tilt his head in scorn.

"I was promised gold?" he suggested, which made the reaper furrow his brow. Azazel sighed before crossing his arms, lazily holding the dagger that had killed two demonic kings. "Fine, I did it for glory," he said, waiting for the Horsemen to react before shaking his head. "For women? Booze? What do you want me to say?"

"The truth," Niccolo snarled, his anger flowing out of him and his new power threatening to break him apart. At that, the grey-skinned demon grinned and somehow seemed to stare right into Niccolo's soul.

"Why should I give you that?" he teased, chuckling lightly. Azazel stepped to the side, forcing Cadmus to walk around so that they could both face him, and then he started to circle around them. "How about my own world, kids? Would you believe that?"

"You want your own world?" Cadmus asked in disbelief, drawing a shrug out of the blindfolded demon.

"Guys, you're part of the Apocalypse. You _know_ the world is going to end because that's what you were trained for," he said, making Niccolo swipe his blade in fury.

"We don't have to, Azazel! That's up to us!"

"Oh, _is it_ , Nico?" Azazel asked, turning to face them before adopting a mock look of surprise. It was replaced by scorn as he laughed at the men intent on killing him. "I'm pretty sure if _you_ don't, _someone's_ going to end it. It's human nature, and, for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure you inherited that from Adonai."

"What makes you think you'll have your own world?" Cadmus asked, causing Azazel to smile before he continued circling around them, his tail swishing underneath his cloak.

"Adonai told me I could have one. Just had to betray the brothers and sisters that led me to live in a dark, crusty old dimension that's teeming with little weak souls, like yourselves," he teased, walking toward the entrance lazily and setting his hand on the door. "And honestly, guys, I actually don't mind you, I'd say you're two of the good ones, but it really comes down to one fact. The world's ending and the rats gotta board the last ship out of port. Shame, really."

"What makes you think you're going to leave here alive?" Niccolo asked, drawing a chuckle from the blindfolded demon as he pushed open the left door and turned, his hand on the handle to the other door.

"Well, you're going to have your hands full," he said before flicking his wrist lightly and tearing the second door off of its hinges easily, revealing a squat yellow demon with a wide grin across his face.

"Heeeeeeeeeere's MAMMON!" the Hellborn yelled before jumping into the room and throwing his fist into the air, his loincloth swaying in the wind.

"Have fun, you guys," Azazel said before yawning and turning to walk away. He tilted his head slightly to look over his shoulder. "If you kill the Hellborn, come down to the Overlook. The next act is down there," he said before looking forward and lazily strolling away, leaving Cadmus and Niccolo alone with the son of the Devil.

"Hah, like they're walking away from this one," Mammon said before hopping up from his pose and then started to stretch his legs. When he straightened back up and threw his right arm across his chest, holding it back with his left in order to stretch his chest muscles, the yellow demon smiled with malice. "I mean, let's be serious. You're my dinner."

"Mammon, he just _killed_ your father," Cadmus said, drawing a snarl from the potbellied demon.

"My father? You mean the one who chose _that_ rotting bastard," he said, pointing at Niccolo with his left index finger before bringing it back to point at his mouth, "over me? Why the _hell_ would I give a shit about my dear old daddy if he didn't give a shit about me?"

"He loved you, you bastard," Niccolo said under his breath, causing the potbellied demon to glare at him.

" _No_ , Nico, he loved my mom. He _hated_ me; he just couldn't bring himself to kill me out of that love for her. Actually, come to think of it, I can see where the guy was coming from," he said before straightening up and then spreading his lips wide in a grin that stretched his entire face. "She _was_ quite tasty."

"You're a monster," Cadmus uttered, which made Mammon giggle.

"I think that's the _point_ , Mr. Reaper. I _am_ the biggest monster down here. So it's only right that I get to rule Hell," he said, which made Niccolo shake his head, laughing at Mammon's mistake.

"You stupid bastard. Azazel is going to Earth. He's going to leave you behind," he said, which made the yellow demon shrug in response.

"So? He told me he was going up there," he said, which made the Horsemen look at him in confusion. "What?"

"Then...why are you doing this?" Cadmus asked, which made the potbellied demon double over with laughter. Tired of the constant distractions, the Pale Rider slammed his blade against the ground, causing Mammon to look at him in surprise. "ENOUGH. Tell us why!"

"You want to know _why_ , reaper?" Mammon said, his voice turning dark with emotion and violence. "I wanted my dear, old daddy dead so I could take that throne over there," he said while pointing at the shifting throne with his father's body lying in front of it. "While he ruled, I was just the Devil's _son_. Now I'll be the _Devil_."

"That's not how it works," Niccolo said, but Mammon only laughed at that before falling over to all fours.

"Well, until someone can stop me," he said, beginning his transformation into his bestial form, looking up at them as his jaw dislocated and a chorus of seven demonic voices issued from his throat, " _THAT'S EXACTLY HOW IT'S GOING TO BE!"_

Niccolo did not wait for his body to morph into its terrible form and instead ran forward, leaping into a downward strike. The transforming demon noticed his approach and jumped to the side just in time, looking after Niccolo with fury in his eyes.

" _No fair! You have to wait!_ " he said, his front arm bulging and snapping as his bones broke through his skin and his body started to grow. Before Niccolo could respond, Cadmus was already throwing his scythe under Mammon's body, determined to catch Mammon's underside. The yellow demon gasped with seven throats before leaping to the side and digging his bone claws, which had just broken through his fingers and toes, into the stone wall.

"If you and Azazel don't fight fair, who says we have to?" Cadmus asked before drawing his scythe back and leaping into the air in front of Mammon. The yellow demon, who was still compensating for his growing body mass, growled before dropping from the wall away from his attacker. He turned in midair, the bones of his spine growing and stretching the skin of his back, and was only just able to see Niccolo underneath him, launching his bastard sword into a deadly forward arc above his shoulders. Mammon brought his arms beneath him and screamed as the green metal sank into the flesh of his limbs, cutting all the way into the bone.

"You're going to die, Hellborn," Niccolo said, confident that he just needed to finish off the creature still hanging in the air, but soon his blade was pushed back with enough force that he fell back with it, dragging his feet along the stone floor of the throne room. When he regained his balance, he saw Mammon's chest heaving and his large eyes filled with anger.

" _That's enough_ ," he declared, jumping backward just in time to avoid Cadmus' falling strike and then threw his right hand into the reaper's body, sending the Horseman tumbling toward his friend. Niccolo and Cadmus could only watch as Mammon was able to complete his transformation, the coarse hair thickening into an outer shell, new muscle fortifying his limbs and the skeletal tail bursting out of the end of his back. His head ballooned up to a comical size before a red mass was vomited out, the membrane splitting to reveal seven heads on seven necks. Seven faces then turned to sneer at them.

" _So now that I'm like this, Horsemen, what are you going to do?_ " he asked, laughing with his chorus of frightening heads. Niccolo and Cadmus just picked themselves up and held their weapons ready, standing in defiance of the massive Hellborn.

"What we were planning on doing every step of the way," Cadmus said before bringing his scythe behind him, a burst of invisible energy flowing through his veins.

" _What's that?_ " Mammon asked, his voice playful.

"Nothing special," Niccolo said, trying to tease the monstrous beast in front of him. "Just save the world." The statement drew a slow chuckle from the yellow demon standing just a few yards away.

" _Hate to break it to ya, Nico, but you're gonna have to change your plans,"_ Mammon said before leaping forward, launching four deadly bone nails toward his father's favorite human. Niccolo countered by slicing up along his side and forcing his green blade through each diamond-hard bone, breaking them easily, and smiled when Mammon screamed with seven voices.

"You sure about that, Mammon?" he teased, waiting for the Hellborn's reaction. It breathed in deeply before screaming obscenities and reforming the bone claws extending from his hand, jumping toward Niccolo with his hands ready to slash him to ribbons. Smiling at the yellow demon's foolishness, Niccolo was about to taunt him again, but soon he was wrapped in a several yards worth of spinal column. When he looked up, seven smiling faces were smiling down at him.

" _Pretty sure_ ," they teased before yanking Niccolo forward, past his belly and across the room within half a second, sending his sword flying away from him before he crashed into the hard stone of Lucifer's throne, which shattered once he slammed into it. Niccolo blacked out for a moment, but regained consciousness in time to see Cadmus slammed against the wall opposite Mammon, a spire of bone broken off from the Hellborn's nails pinning him to the stone. Niccolo's gaze was blurry and he was finding it difficult to focus, but he was thrown back to the present once he heard that nasal laugh.

" _Oh... Oh man, you have GOT to be kidding me! The way you two were talking I thought I was going to be in trouble!"_ Mammon screamed between fits of laughing, his heads inches away from Cadmus' pain-stricken face. He sat back on his hind legs and managed to look at both of them between his seven heads. " _And here you both get wrecked within just a minute! It's really just pitiful."_

"Come...come here and say that," Niccolo said, coughing up blood because his ribs were broken. The statement caught Mammon's attention, and soon the Hellborn was stalking toward him, a look of confusion displayed across three of his faces, the others stretched into grins. Niccolo took that time to stretch his hand out to find anything within reach, his fingers finally touching on a cylindrical object.

" _See, that's what I like about you, Nico. Even though you're entirely outmatched, you still manage to talk a good game. But face it, little leper,_ " Mammon said as he came close to Niccolo, standing over him briefly before lowering his necks, one of his seven heads directly over Niccolo's face, _"you never had a chance. What did you think was going to happen_?" he asked, which made Niccolo smile briefly.

"Well, I figured you would make a mistake," he said before wrapping his fingers around the handle of the weapon, whatever it was, and then swung it behind Mammon's extended head. It turned out to be an old broadsword, its blade almost rusted-through, but it was enough to slice through the pink flesh of Mammon's tongue and sever it from his body, causing the Hellborn to rear back in pain.

Niccolo sprang into action, realizing the blade had cracked into pieces once it had cut through Mammon's neck, and used everything he had to jump up into Mammon's torso, throwing his demonic hand, curled into a fist, up against the yellow demon's armored torso. His bones shuddered from the impact, but Niccolo was pleased to see Mammon's entire body rise into the air and start to turn over, landing in the center of the throne room with a resounding quake, cracking the stone around him and leaving a crater a foot deep.

When Niccolo landed, he did not bother to wait for Mammon to recover. Instead, he turned around and jumped up, his right leg finding purchase on the seat of Lucifer's throne. He then pushed as hard as he could and sailed up to the back wall of the throne room, scrambling up with both of his legs. With a mighty push, Niccolo flew backward and sailed through the air, twisting so that he could face the Hellborn still lying with its back to the floor.

For a moment, Cadmus watched as Niccolo fell to meet the yellow demon, who was just able to extend six necks to look at his flying opponent. To the reaper's surprise, Niccolo radiated with a green energy and Cadmus could only stare in wonder at the Horseman's face. He had never seen such fury before.

It almost seemed impossible when Niccolo landed on his enemy, throwing his fist down against Mammon's ribcage with such force that he seemed to plunge his arm through the creature's body, but then Cadmus heard the crack and the tremors throughout the room. Before he could react and draw out the bone-nail that was buried in his left shoulder, Cadmus gaped in shock as the ground fell out from underneath the mortal enemies, the two of them falling to the space below.

"NICO!" Cadmus shouted, turning to the bone spire and gritting his teeth before using his scythe to cut off the foot of bone protruding from his shoulder, which had narrowly missed his heart. He then pushed behind his back and let the bone run through him, gasping in air as he tried to ignore the pain. When he was finally able to move on, Cadmus held his scythe in one hand and kept the other by his side, hobbling over to the hole Niccolo had made in the throne room. He was surprised to see the Overlook and the demons fighting inside, but, before he could jump down to join their battle, the Pale Rider heard an ethereal voice which stopped him mid-step.

Cadmus.

***

When Niccolo picked himself up, he noticed that Mammon was lying still underneath him. His breath came out in sporadic bursts as he tried to figure out where all of that power had come from, but eventually he staggered to his feet and stepped away from the massive yellow demon.

Forty yards ahead of him, Azazel stood in front of a flickering image suspended over the cliff's edge, his arms crossed in his frustration. Confused by the sight, Niccolo looked past him and was stunned by the climactic battle occurring over the lake of lava.

Or rather, it had _been_ lava. Amdusias, revealing his power, had covered the entire room in ice, creating a large hill out of frozen water in the middle of the hall. The demon king was floating above the mountain, gusts of wind and clouds hanging around him while his unbraided hair whipped about freely, when Niccolo watched him throw down a charge of electricity, sending a thunderclap resonating through the massive hall.

In shock, Niccolo looked down to find a lone, armored figure standing where the electricity had discharged, and was even more surprised to see the figure able to move after Amdusias' strike. Niccolo then realized from the fading purple light that the person had created an ethereal mark in the air, protecting him from harm.

"BELETH!" a shout came from beneath them as the hill of ice shattered and instantly evaporated, a plume of fire rising out of the center. Now that he had regained his wits, Niccolo realized that this new demon was Asmodeus and that the twins were fighting the last king allied with Azazel. The thought brought with it a smile as he realized that Beleth did not have a chance, but before Asmodeus had been able to strike their brother, Beleth had jumped over to the left wall.

"STOP BEING SO PREDICTABLE!" Beleth shouted before pushing off of the wall, flying toward the dragon-scaled king with his long sword at the ready. Asmodeus was about to counter Beleth's strike, but before either twin could react, Beleth quickly drew a three point seal in the air below him, creating a surface which he used to redirect his momentum.

Niccolo could only watch as Beleth pushed off the false surface and flew toward Amdusias, who was not prepared for Beleth's sudden reversal. In a flash, the traitor was past the storm king, a fountain of blood spraying from a rent in his white armor.

"No!" Asmodeus shouted, his flames burning hot enough to make his armor and exposed scales turn red. He caught Beleth's leg as he passed by, the black metal melting to his skin, and then flung him back across the sea of lava. Niccolo could only gape in wonder as Beleth's body flew over him and was about to slam into the back wall, but he cursed as the demon king twisted his body and created a purple seal in the air, bracing himself for the impact. Niccolo was about to throw himself after Beleth when the air above him sizzled, the red form of Asmodeus flying past him and into the traitor's body, slamming Beleth into the wall of the cavern.

"Whoa!" Azazel shouted, turning from the flickering image and looking at the demon kings struggling, bathed in fire. He lowered his blindfolded gaze and seemed to stare straight at Niccolo. "He is _not_ happy about _that_."

"Azazel," Niccolo said under his breath, his sword forming in his demonic hand. The grey-skinned demon looked at him with curiosity.

"Hey, Nico. Nice little spectacle up there. _Definitely_ didn't expect you to bring Mammon to the party," he said before nodding at the Hellborn.

"I'm going to kill you," Niccolo said, staggering toward the traitor standing by the cliff, both of his legs hurting from the fall.

"Uh, I told you to deal with Mammon, first, Nico. You have to finish your dinner before you can get to dessert," Azazel said, admonishing him like a parent. The Horseman squared up to the grey-skinned demon and breathed in deeply.

"He's dealt with," the leper said before bringing his sword to his right and holding it with both hands. He was about to advance on the Devil's murderer when he felt a sudden impact from his left side. Caught completely flat-footed, Niccolo was propelled through the air and hit the ground hard, feeling his exposed skin tearing away after sliding past a rock on the floor.

" _Not so much_ ," seven voices echoed. Niccolo looked up to see the Hellborn advancing toward him, the smiles absent from its faces. Niccolo could not look away even as Asmodeus and Beleth exchanged blows above them.

"Why can't you just die?" Niccolo shouted, pushing himself up to his feet and realizing that his sword had been knocked away. Cursing, he started to form another handle from his demonic arm, but Mammon was not playing around. He covered the distance between them with one powerful leap, landing on top of Niccolo with his full weight. The leper did not pass out from this strike, but when Mammon pushed his massive body off of him, Niccolo was not able to move immediately. Just like in the Pits, Mammon grabbed him off the ground and dangled him over his seven mouths.

" _This look familiar, Nico? We'll pick up where we left off,"_ Mammon said before six faces broke into a smile. The seventh head grew larger, its mouth becoming wide enough to accommodate the Horseman hanging above him, and Niccolo thought that this might actually be the end.

However, before Mammon could appreciate his meal, his body was struck by a large dose of electricity, shocking him into a muscle spasm and causing Mammon to throw Niccolo behind him. The shock had been enough to stun Niccolo as well, but when he landed against the stone floor elbow-first, breaking it painfully, he still felt gratitude for whatever had happened.

Niccolo looked over to see Amdusias flying toward them, hanging ten feet above the air, and thought that Mammon was done for. Then Amdusias collapsed to the ground, blood leaking from the massive gash on his left side. Niccolo had forgotten the wound Beleth had given the demon king and, now that he remembered, felt helpless.

" _Goddamnit_ , _Frosty!"_ Mammon screamed as he recovered, shaking off the electricity the demon king had run through his body. The white-armored demon just laughed weakly as he looked from the Hellborn over to Niccolo, who was cradling his already-healing elbow.

"Best I can do, Niccolo," he said before turning back to Mammon, who was now stalking toward him. Niccolo looked from the demon king and back to his twin, who was still pummeling on Beleth in the crater they had made during their duel. Then he turned his gaze toward Azazel, who was smiling softly in front of the flickering image. Niccolo examined the portal and realized there were six points to the design, with just one empty point left to form. As he realized that Azazel was about to reach his goal, Niccolo found that he had one last act of defiance in him.

"Mammon!" he shouted, his boots scraping against the stone floor as he struggled to his feet, cradling his right elbow. The yellow demon stopped in his tracks, hearing his name, and Niccolo could tell that he was going through an internal struggle. After a moment, however, the Hellborn turned to look at him with seven annoyed heads.

" _Wait your turn, Nico_ ," Mammon said before starting to turn back to the wounded king. Niccolo stopped cradling his arm and felt the bone already calcifying, cleared his throat and then stepped forward with his left foot.

"Mammon," he said again, which caused the Hellborn's seven heads to whip around.

" _Will you be quiet! I'll get to you in a moment!"_ he said, but this time he did not turn back to Amdusias. He saw that Niccolo was grabbing the gnarled bow from his back, the weapon magically stringing itself.

"Then I'll just have to be content with making your ass a pincushion," Niccolo said, raising his right arm, feeling a jolt of pain from the still-healing elbow, but he bent it in order to grab a single arrow from his quiver. The action was enough from Mammon to turn entirely and face Niccolo, all seven sets of eyes glaring at him.

" _We can always make this more painful, Nico_ ," he threatened, but Niccolo did not bother to care. He just lowered his right hand and nocked the arrow against the string before holding out his bow in front of him, pulling back the arrow and trying to deny the pain aching through his right arm.

"You and me, Mammon. That was how it was always supposed to be," Niccolo said, feeling the strength leave his right arm and accidentally sending the arrow along its path. It sank into the flesh of Mammon's yellow arm, drawing a snarl from four heads and threats from the other three.

" _Oh, you're going to regret that_ ," Mammon said, starting forward, each heavy step accompanied by a strong vibration in the floor. Niccolo mustered his nerve and reached behind him to grab another arrow, feeling no pain from his elbow this time. Even then, he knew he should have felt scared, but strangely he felt completely calm. The rage that burned in him was somehow controlled and there was only one thought in his mind.

If nothing else, he would face his own demon.

Niccolo nocked the arrow against the string of his black bow and drew it back, feeling not the slightest bit of pain from his recently-broken elbow. He did not bother to think about why it was not hurting; he did not bother to think about how this yellow demon had bested him twice already. Niccolo just aimed up at the Hellborn who was now standing just two yards away, lowering seven faces which smiled at him.

" _If Lucifer could see you now,_ " Mammon teased, but before he could laugh, Mammon drew back in pain, a scythe buried deep into his yellow neck. Cadmus strained to hold onto the handle as Mammon shook his body, but eventually the reaper was able to make eye contact with Niccolo. When Niccolo looked into Cadmus' grey eyes, he knew that he had the power to change this one thing, if nothing else.

"He can," Niccolo said softly, opening his left eye for the first time in centuries. A white light burst forth from the ruined eye, leaking out past the blighted skin and filling the room with radiance. Niccolo felt the energy flowing through him and breathed out before letting his fingers slide off the string.

Before it even left Niccolo's bow, the arrow broke the sound barrier and shook the very atmosphere around them, streaking toward Mammon's chest covered in pure, white light. Niccolo did not know why this was happening, he was not exactly sure where this power came from, but he was thankful that it had come to him in this moment.

He blinked and found that the Hellborn no longer had a torso, his monstrous flesh burned away by the power Niccolo had used against him. What remained of Mammon collapsed to the ground, Cadmus on top of him, and it took a few moments for anyone to react.

Cadmus was the first, drawing his scythe across Mammon's heads so that he would never leave a soul, but eventually Azazel slowly turned his head toward Niccolo, who was still looking toward the Hellborn's corpse. Those still caught in the moment were brought out of their daze by a slow clap from the grey-skinned demon.

"That was...amazing, Nico," Azazel said, laughing in shock before increasing the rate of his applause. "Really. I'm...stunned. That you have been holding _that_ back is pretty rude of you," he said before stopping his clapping, placing his hands on his hips. Their conversation was interrupted by Beleth's body slamming onto the ground, followed swiftly by the flame-covered demon king who had beaten him into submission.

"Asmodeus, don't!" Cadmus shouted, drawing a glare from the fallen angel's burning eyes. "Azazel only needs one more of the kings to die before the portal is open."

"But he almost killed..." Asmodeus started, but Amdusias interrupted him with a weak cough.

"He's right, brother," the wounded demon said before coughing once more. His twin's statement was enough for Asmodeus to allow his flames to die down, cursing under his breath. After he did, Asmodeus picked up the demon in the black armor, whose face was swollen and bruised, blood flowing from where his bones had been forced through the skin. Still, Beleth breathed and was even able to look up at Azazel, who was still standing by the incomplete portal. The broken king huffed once before nodding at the demonic mastermind.

"Yeah, Asmodeus. He's right," Azazel said before cocking his head to the side and then flinging his left hand toward the dragon king, releasing the small dagger he had used to kill Belial and Lucifer. Asmodeus saw the weapon gleaming in the air and threw out his right hand to catch it, but that was exactly what Azazel wanted. Freed from the Asmodeus' grasp, Beleth was able to form a five point seal which sent a massive blade surging forward, splitting the ground in its path and sending cascades of stone to each side.

With little warning, the entire chamber began to shake and the lava in the void started to bubble and burst, flowing up in molten arcs. Niccolo tried to keep himself steady, but he looked to his left when he heard Asmodeus yelling in misery. In his confusion, the Horseman looked back to the opposite side of the room and found that Beleth's summoned blade had split Amdusias in two, ending the demon king's life. Niccolo turned to where Azazel had been standing, and realized they had failed.

"Thank you, my good brother!" Azazel shouted, laughing at the spectacle he had just witnessed. He turned to face the newly-formed portal, the lush countryside of some place on Earth shimmering along its surface. "I mean, wow! After all this time, I get to go back!"

"Azazel!" Asmodeus screamed from his back, Beleth's seal having thrown him backward, but the grey-skinned demon just looked over his shoulder and smiled, laughing as he turned around. Asmodeus could not even react as Beleth used another seal to summon his grotesque horse from the air and rode toward the portal, rushing to meet his co-conspirator.

"Oh, don't yell at me, brother! You could have killed Beleth and then your twin would still be alive," he said before sighing in content. "Well," he said before stepping backward, a smile stretched across his face. "I guess I'll just say my goodbyes."

Azazel then bowed deeply, flourishing with his right hand as he did, and it was almost enough to drive Niccolo insane with rage. The Horseman quickly brought up his bow, grabbed an arrow from his quiver and pulled it back. When he sent the missile, he was surprised to see that holy light did not accompany it, but he still knew he had aimed correctly. Before it reached its mark, however, Azazel's hand somehow interrupted its path, his fingers curling around the shaft and stopping its flight. The grey-skinned demon straightened back up and turned toward Niccolo, shaking his head.

"That was just unnecessary," he said before tossing the arrow to the side and then turned to the portal. Azazel placed his foot inside the shimmering portal and tested the ground on the other side, smiling as he felt his weight supported by the soft ground underfoot. He then leisurely walked through the portal and disappeared from Hell forever, Beleth on horseback leaping after him.

"No," Niccolo said, shaking with anger. He would not let this happen. He was not just going to let Lucifer's killer get away with this and take the world for himself. The Horseman ran toward the portal, leaping into the air and summoning the black horse covered in green lesions.

"Niccolo, stop!" Cadmus said behind him, but Niccolo was not listening. All he wanted to do was follow Azazel to Earth and then bring back his head. He could hear plenty of noise as Plague carried him to the portal, but it was all extraneous.

The only thing that mattered was his vengeance.

However, when they reached the portal, the shimmering image of the field was replaced by the image of an empty, barren plain. Niccolo was unable to stop Plague and they leapt through the portal, the very act tearing Niccolo's mind from reality.

***

Niccolo came back to consciousness and gasped, his lungs unable to process the fresh air surrounding him. He panicked, feeling the brittle grass between his fingers and wondering just where he was. The last thing he remembered was Hell, the Overlook...

Azazel.

Niccolo turned over and found that he was lying in a barren field, quickly realizing that he was not alone. His horse was lying on the ground just a few yards away, groaning as it stirred toward consciousness.

"Plague, are you alright?" he shouted, half crawling and half stumbling over to his horse. Plague's mind started to come back to him, the tether between them remaining strong, and soon the black horse was climbing to his feet. Niccolo was about to feel relieved when he heard an impact behind him, finding that a cloaked man in leather armor and a pure white horse had crashed to the ground.

"Oh, shit, Cadmus," Niccolo said before turning and walking toward his friend, leaving Plague to gain his own bearings.

"Yeah, little man, I'm fine," Plague said with a note of resentment, but he sympathized with his master as he knelt beside the Pale Rider, who was a little more pale than usual.

Soon after Niccolo slid to the ground next to the new arrivals, Cadmus coughed himself awake and turned to his side, curling into a fetal position. Niccolo felt relieved to see any movement by the reaper and turned his attention to the world surrounding them.

Suspended about four feet in the air was the portal to Hell, a glimmering image of black rock and fire playing across its surface. Niccolo was about to smile, realizing there was a way back, when the image dissolved and all that remained behind were grey clouds in the sky. His heart sinking, Niccolo looked back down to the former gladiator curled up by his knees. He had opened his eyes and was glaring at his friend.

"You're a goddamned idiot, Nico," Cadmus said before uncurling himself and turning over so that he could sit up. "Only _you_ would be stupid enough to ride through a portal nobody knows anything about."

"Hey," Niccolo said before giving a weary laugh. " _You_ followed me." The joke did not fall on friendly ears, as Cadmus just continued to glare at him before turning over and picking himself up, walking toward Mercy. The white horse was fine, just now getting to his feet, but Cadmus still wanted to console the creature.

"Nico. What have you done? Where are we?" Cadmus asked once Mercy had gotten to his feet. The reaper looked to his fellow Horseman, his eyes filled with concern, and suddenly Niccolo felt the weight of it all. He turned toward Plague and wandered forward, finally recognizing the city that lay on the horizon. It was all too familiar.

"I...I don't know, but, well...that looks like Napoli," he said with hesitation, burying his human hand into the black horse's mane. Unable to process everything that had happened in the last hour, Niccolo's mind was only on one thing when he turned back to face his friend.

"I think...I think we just started the Apocalypse."

Note From the Author

Hey, everyone, I hope you liked From Hell with Love and that you decide to check out the sequels, Ghosts of Earth and In Defiance of Heaven. If you're curious about some of my other writing, Icarus, my first series, is a science fiction trilogy about futuristic gladiators stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth, and I'm just starting up an absurdist series of fairytales on my site, http://www.kevinkauffmann.com, though I'm currently hosting them on my facebook, https://www.facebook.com/TheIcarusTrilogy . Twitter is also totally blowing up right now https://twitter.com/KevinKauffmann

And now comes the cheap ploy of it all. I've been an independent author for about two years now and I'm still struggling just to get my name out there, much less establish enough of a career to support myself. It's a tough gig, this independent work, and I'm going to ask you guys for a favor.

If you liked this book or any of my others, I would really appreciate it if you left reviews or tried to spread the word. Almost everybody I talk to loves my books, but I really don't have much in the way of reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, and all the other sites out there, even after giving away more than 50,000 copies of my books. While I'm not proud of this, I saw another author have wild success for his first book just because he included a personal note like this, so now I've decided to do the same. Unlike the other author, I'm not going to beg for five star reviews, I'm happy with critical reviews as long as they're honest, but it would be extremely helpful if you could help spread the word.

Trust me, I wouldn't ask if I had better options, but it's a bit of a last resort situation. From Hell with Love and its sequels are likely my best chance of hitting it big, and I want to try everything before giving up. I'll never stop writing, it's why I'm here, but being mired in obscurity doesn't exactly help with the process. If you guys help me out with reviews and spreading the word, I'm hoping that might be enough to get me to that next step, and then I can churn out plenty of other stories for you guys and really get this train rolling.

Thanks for hearing me out, for reading the books and, hopefully, helping me spread the word and get these books out to more and more people. I really appreciate whatever time you spend on me or my work.

-Kevin
