While the Princes of Hell, finally united by a fragile truce, awaited Mammon's signal to unleash the apocalypse, a voice rose from the unfathomable depths of the universe. It was no unknown voice; its timbre vibrated through the foundations of reality, chilling the blood of the Princes and Plutus himself. It was the echo of a being whose mere thought made the regents of sulfur tremble.
— "Who do you think you are, you band of idiots!" thundered the mysterious voice.
The air suddenly became unbreathable, heavy with a crushing gravitational pressure. The Princes, seized with panic, frantically scanned the surroundings for the source of this intrusion, wondering how he could have returned so soon. Only Mammon, despite his muscles tensed by terror, allowed a predatory smile to flicker as he identified the speaker.
— "What? Impossible… When did you… Bariothos?" Beelzebub stammered, his breath short.
— "Silence, insolent wretch!" Bariothos cut him off sharply. "You dare to feast the moment I am gone for but a minute?"
Belial attempted to interject with a syrupy voice: "But you see, Lord Bariothos…"
He did not have time to finish. An invisible force slammed him violently against the black marble floor, snapping his arm and left leg clean with a sinister crack. Beelzebub, swallowing his fury and helplessness, fell to his knees to beg for mercy on behalf of his brothers. Around him, the other archdemons prostrated themselves, crushed by this infernal power that none of them could contest.
Bariothos was Lucifer's ultimate masterpiece, fashioned from a tiny but pure fragment of his own divine essence. Absolute Regent of Hell, he was the shadow of the Lightbringer whenever the latter wandered into other dimensions. In other words, Bariothos was the will of Lucifer made flesh.
— "And you? What are you doing here?" Bariothos asked, fixing his gaze on Mammon. "Was it not you who found Hell, your home, and your brothers to be a deathly bore?"
Mammon, his throat tight with the fear of being condemned to eternal oubliettes, initially remained silent. But in the sanctuary of his mind, he burned to have a private audience with the Regent. Bariothos, reading his thoughts like an open book, dismissed the other princes with a simple wave of his hand.
— "I hope for your sake that you have something fascinating to propose," Bariothos resumed with a carnivorous grin, his eyes wide with a cold madness. "Otherwise, you will wait for Lucifer's return to give him an account… unless you have a tribute of value to offer me?"
With a thought, an ornamental spear detached itself from the palace wall and sliced through the air, aiming for Mammon's back at lightning speed. The Prince of Wealth felt death approaching. Just two centimeters from piercing his heart and sealing him away forever, the weapon stopped abruptly.
— "A pact!" Mammon screamed, his eyes bulging and his body drenched in a sweat of blood.
It was not so much the idea of being sealed that terrified him, but the excruciating prospect of losing this war against Plutus. The very thought of defeat was more unbearable to him than agony. The word "pact" acted like a charm; the spear returned to its place on the wall, like a mere illusion dissipated by the wind. Bariothos settled onto his throne in profile, his expression grave, as the temperature in the hall rose sharply.
— "Oh… a pact? Prince of Wealth, I am listening."
Meanwhile, far from the infernal furnace, Plutus watched the scene through the veil of dimensions. He shook his head with a mixture of contempt and concern.
— "That idiot has no restraint… But I, too, have more than one trick up my sleeve. This war will be far more epic than we imagined."
Plutus gathered the Territorial Gods to warn them: this war would not just be a game of avatars. Those who did not fully commit risked having their essences extinguished. But the deities present, hungry for blood and glory, brushed aside his warnings.
— "You are deluding yourself, Plutus!" exclaimed Ogun, the god of the forge. "I want to feel the dust, the clash of blades, and the cracking of skulls beneath my hammer! If no one comes to take my life, I will create a war between the gods for the simple pleasure of carnage! Ogun has spoken!"
Shango, the god of thunder, agreed, conjuring a flame in the palm of his hand.
— "Avatars will not be enough. I already miss the scent of burning…"
With a gesture, he manifested a vision of bloody battle within the flames, which was immediately extinguished by a wave of water launched by the goddess Osun.
— "Do not seek to frighten the mortals, Shango," she tempered. "The question is: are our avatars ready to survive this cyclone?"
— "Mine is," Plutus replied, his voice rising in a crescendo. "We may be few—five gods and three humans—but we will be enough!"
— "Speak for yourself!" Ogun shot back with a superior smile, crushing an apple in his fist. "Alone, I could wage this war ten times over."
— "Trust me," Plutus concluded. "I will summon human legends whose bravery exceeds the understanding of the gods."
— "Let it be written and accomplished," Khonshu whispered from the shadows.
— "Speaking of avatars, we still haven't seen yours, Khonshu," Osun remarked.
— "Be content with seeing me," Khonshu replied curtly.
Osun retorted: "Don't be foolish, it was just out of curiosity."
Back in Hell, the agreement was sealed.
— "The pact suits me, Mammon," Bariothos declared.
The Prince of Wealth stood tall, his pride reborn stronger than ever. He turned his back on the throne and rejoined his brothers, confidence etched upon his face.
— "Prepare yourselves, my brothers! The call will ring out. Plutus… you shall bite the dust!"
As Mammon returned to his team, a question remained, hanging like a Sword of Damocles: what exorbitant price had he agreed to pay Bariothos to obtain this power?
The Shadows of Fate Lengthen...
* The blood pact is signed, but who—the human or the demon—will end up devouring the other when Mammon's debts come due?
* As the heavens and the hells sharpen their weapons, what forgotten legends is Plutus preparing to tear from their eternal rest to defy the invincible Bariothos?
* The cyclone of war approaches, and in its wake, the scent of sulfur already mingles with the fragrance of human tears... will humanity survive the clash of titans?