There Can Only Be One True Ruler

Verse I: Introductions

Atop an infamous place called 'The Mountain of Wrath,' three of the most powerful beings in Demon World gathered together for the first time in thousands & thousands of years, each seeking to eliminate the others, thus becoming sole ruler, defeating the lone few capable of challenging their claim to absolute power.

Little did they know, a deity from another world would soon be arriving any second now. The warrior known as Archangel Michael crashed the party in spectacular fashion, transported by a holy beam of light originating from the Heavens. Followed by him—the fourth occupant atop the mountain—arrived one more combatant. Last and most likely least, a fifth, unknown guest entered the fray, sneaky as a mouse. None of the Rulers knew the cloaked and veiled fifth’s identity, and neither did Michael. Nobody paid any significant attention to their presence except Ka, the aloof one, who spent most of his time within the unseen dimensions of existence. Nevertheless, he conquered immense territory inside of Demon World, thus giving him status as co-ruler along with two infamous others, soon to be introduced.

As far as the others were concerned, this newcomer probably wandered accidently over to the wrong place at the wrong time. The battle of Creation’s most formidable warriors was guaranteed to become so fierce and destructive, anyone standing in the way or even the general vicinity of the fighting, strangers included, would wind up dead in the crossfire. A few other unlikely possibilities existed. Either the fifth, veiled stranger came here to carry out a death wish, or they were keeping their playable cards close to the vest if you catch my drift. Their pathway here held no importance. Their arrival only a minor nuisance. Unless, of course, they got in the way. Naturally, then the status quo would certainly change.

Underneath and right next to the peak existed relatively flat terrain composed of a few large boulders and scattered trees, essentially a wide-open space. Its vast surface area and legendary reputation provided the necessary attributes of the most fitting place to host an epic battleground.

Demons of much lower power levels stood scattered around the mountain, brimming with excitement at the bloodshed they'd soon be witnessing. The majority dared not make any attempts at getting closer, instead scrambling about looking for places with the best view of the action. Others felt it a worthwhile risk to get as close to the action as possible, even if that meant getting obliterated in the process.

Dressed to impress with an everlasting smirk, a notorious individual that went by many names used his snake-like tongue to stir the metaphorical pot, typically favoring subterfuge & covert tactics as opposed to brute force, well-versed in manipulation.

This ultimate incarnation of evil was known by many things. Beelzebub, the Devil, and many other names identified him. It didn't require a wild guess to know the one he favored most, Lucifer.

Spread out across the field of battle, all five of them watched and waited for someone to make the first move. Roughly twenty yards away from Lucifer frowned Archangel Michael, clearly both unimpressed and uninterested in anything the vile creature spewed forth from his wicked mouth.

"The big bad Lucifer, running your mouth again, are we? I suppose some things never change. You’ve always been a spineless little weasel. Can't say I'm not surprised, traitor."

Palpable best described the venom embedded in his voice, especially the final word, traitor.

Quick as ever, Lucifer served a zinger of his own in retaliation, commencing an intense, pre-battle confrontation. Everyone knows a proper clash of epic proportions requires a bit of buildup.

"Speak for yourself, servant, you're nothing but a glamorized pansy and a showoff. Of the two of us, only one, you, are the traitor, make no mistake about that.”

A brief pause ensued. The Angel showed no indications of giving a response, most likely motivated by feeling he’d be ‘beating a dead horse.’ On that subject, about who was or wasn’t a traitor, there wasn’t much else for him to say. On the other hand, the Devil resumed his verbal tirade.

“I can imagine the excitement you felt, brimming with that indescribable feeling when someone you care for tells you how special you are to them. I remember a moment like that myself as if it were yesterday, but I digress. My ole friend, since we go way back, I’ll clue you in on a little secret. Your unwavering faith has doomed you. Knowing you’d comply, your Master deemed you disposable, no longer wanted, and thus convinced you to journey here—to my home turf—in the name of some twisted divine mission. Conveniently, He had left out the part about you undoubtedly joining the countless tormented souls who have fallen here. You cannot win. You are completely outmatched. And your fate was sealed the moment you left. Welcome to the club, mate, for you and I share one more thing in common… Betrayal from the One Above.”

Utilizing sharp eyes attentive to detail, Lucifer picked up on the most microscopic of changes in Michael’s facial expression, who admirably regained full composure almost immediately. Truthfully, the fallen angel hadn’t a clue concerning the real reason why the Archangel was sent here. In the grand scheme of things, that didn’t matter. What mattered was planting a toxic seed of doubt, feeding it, and watching the poison exponentially inflict more and more psychological torment.

It took a minute for the Holy Ambassador to find the right words to say back. Once he did, still composed yet slightly rattled, he didn’t hold back.

"Nice try, traitor. Those pitiful tactics might work on others, but they will not work on me, snake. How about this? I'll do you one better, revealing a secret of my own, albeit you can best believe we were never friends. I sensed your deceitful soul from the moment our paths first crossed.”

“Well…Go on,” encouraged Lucifer.

“I came here of my own volition. No one sent me, but that’s irrelevant, because I always believe I am under His protection. My faith is unbreakable. My will steeled. And my resolve is limitless. Surrender now, before it's too lat—"

The two arch nemeses went at each other for a few more heated minutes, sparring with words growing increasingly viler, consumed by their hatred of each other.

A soft, malevolent laugh interrupted the back-and-forth exchange. The guilty parties had unwittingly foregone the awareness required to keep tabs on their surroundings in favor of arguing and settling old scores. In unison, both of their heads turned, mesmerized by the voice of the Mad Demon Queen.

"Oh, my. Pardon me for laughing at your ridiculous bickering. My dearest Michael, you have not a chance at making it out of this alive. Flee now, rejoining back with all the rest of—them. I have no quarrel with thee, at present, at least. Not until I officially take the mantle as Sole Ruler of Demon World.”

She stared into his eyes. Present for the entirety of the earlier correspondence, something didn’t feel right. If Michael truly hadn’t been sent here, why come?

Without fear, the holy warrior stared right back. Coincidentally, what he said next made it seem like he read her mind.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until upon my return I can display both of your heads on a platter. I desire glory, recognition of my honorable deeds, and the satisfaction of defeating evil. The rest of my comrades—including The One Above—stay out of the affairs of Demon World and the lives of ordinary mortals across the veil, doing nothing as they witness how each of you influences regular beings to turn evil. I’m sure this is for good reason; however, I will be the arbiter who puts an end to that.”

Echoing out and around from every direction roared the unpleased weaker demons and souls here to watch a fight. Word of the impending confrontation had spread quickly with more and more spectators gathering by the minute. Clearly, they were growing anxious.

Michael stood there thinking, going over each individual piece of armor, making sure everything fit comfortably and showed no vulnerabilities. All of it checked out, as he knew it would, the process served as more of a superstitious pre-battle ritual than anything. Everything he’d said so far rang true, although he did leave out a few personal key details, along with his truest feelings and motives that absolutely would go unconfessed with him to his grave, which hopefully wouldn’t be here.

Furious about Michael’s unmitigated audacity to not only come here, but to take it to another level by issuing threats against him, Lucifer began powering up, transforming into his true monstrous, demonic form. Killing the bastard would be the icing on the cake to attaining the status he craved. The power he deserved more than anyone.

“How ironic of you to deliver such a noble speech. And to think, only moments earlier, ‘twas you who had accused me of talking too much. You, and all your kind, are all so putridly hypocritical.”

Sarcasm dripped off every word. The Devil grew bigger and more vicious, boasting a powerful, robust row of teeth with talons on the edge of all four appendages. His mace-like, spiked tail added to the arsenal of weapons at his disposal in this new form. By undergoing this eye-raising change, it signified actions spoke louder than words. Lucifer was ready for battle.

“I, Lilith, Queen of the Damned, will be the one to emerge victorious. Such posturing, I might be amused, had it not made me sick, seeing that grotesque form along with this insufferable, unwelcome angel. Enough talk.”

Like a volcano, things were about to erupt at any moment. While waiting for the right time to jump in, Ka realized this was it. He strolled forward towards the group nonchalantly like a walk in the park. When he got close enough for them all to hear without having to yell, he directed an insult at the last of them to speak, making sure to keep his guard up.

"You sure about that, Grandma?"

Tired of all the bravado and strangely enticed by Lucifer’s metamorphosis into one of the ugliest things he’d ever laid eyes on, he stealthily moved a hand closer to where he kept Pestilence, the name of his undead blade, should the need to use it immediately arise.

This time, either to Lilith's amusement or lack thereof, her laugh changed from soft and almost playful to littered with complete disdain. Without looking in his direction, she made sure to fire back with the same degree of disrespect.

“Don’t worry, coward, I most certainly haven’t forgotten about you. That other one a friend of yours? ‘Tis no matter. Keep your mouth shut and stay out of this, weakling. I’d like to have a servant once I don the crown, and I believe you’d fit that role quite well. But don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms about killing you the instant you give me a reason to. Or, well—to be honest, if I just feel like doing so."

Without missing a beat, a magenta-colored flaming aura mixed with a shadow-like darkness encircled the Queen. Now her turn had come to signal her readiness for bloodshed, the aura serving as an initial display of her power. The flames danced all around her body as powering up shook the ground, then the entire mountain began to rumble. In one fell swoop she released a burst of energy sending destructive shockwaves in every direction, the force so great it pushed the entrenched feet of the Devil and the Archangel backwards.

The battle atop the Mountain of Wrath began in the blink of an eye with an explosion of parried blows, redirected magical attacks, and an overall showdown of such wonder it surpassed even the immense levels of expectations of every onlooker. The main three previously engaging in most of the initial discussion and conversation, Lucifer, Lilith, and Michael, fought exclusively against each other, holding nothing back.

Unprepared for the ferocity of such an opening attack, Ka went flying backwards and crashed into a large boulder, nearly destroying it in the process. With a grunt he got up and brushed the debris off, smirking for some unknown reason like all along he’d planned on getting blown back by Lilith’s attack, thereby leaving the three of them to go at it first.

None of them saw the look on his face, focused instead on defeating each other. Deemed both unworthy of participation and non-threatening, off to the side, he noticed the fifth combatant standing in the exact spot they’d been in all along, receiving the same treatment of ignorance.

Lucifer swiped at Michael, narrowly missing a direct hit yet inflicting a serious scratch in his armor. Each of the two on the outside looking in had their reasons for refraining from joining the festivities. At least for now.

Ka stared at the cloaked figure, absent of the smallest of clues regarding their identity. Curious as a cat, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but something he sensed about her was… familiar. The earlier shockwave failed to make them budge even an inch, and it had been resisted in a manner which looked to him, effortless. Glancing up where all the action flurried like a blizzard, he figured that their personal vendettas against each other, far more egregious than any he personally shared with them, would keep them busy for a minute.

Moving steadily, careful not to make any sudden movements, he strafed closer to the other outcast. Nothing could fully capture the sheer epic nature of the three-person battle royale between two demons and an angel, and he nearly went down stumbling because of watching more of the action than where he was going.

He escaped the trance-like spectator mode afflicting him during a brief lull in the fighting. It’s pretty much standard practice for a battle of this caliber to briefly stop for more words to be exchanged, then return to fast and furious action once again. So far, the three of them appeared equally matched without anyone able to land a significant, direct strike.

When he got close enough to get a decent look at the mystery guest, he seriously questioned if they had eyes in the back of their head. Right on cue, they sharply turned their head towards him before looking down, the angle unveiling a pair of regular brown eyes staring right at him from underneath a hood that usually kept them concealed when.

The world around him appeared to calm down as if it had entered a slow-motion type of state. Locking eyes triggered a flashback unlike anything he’d experienced before, and that was saying something, considering his age ranked higher than almost all the other beings, entities, or whoever, in existence. That being said, throughout his long life he’d experienced quite a lot, except for something similar to what was currently unfolding. During this supernatural phenomenon, a memory rose to the surface, replaying quite vividly in his mind, so much so it felt like he’d gotten mentally transported to another world.

Verse II: A Distant Memory

Slowly but surely, the memory materialized completely, unveiling a specific moment in his own personal past, at a specific time, preceding the final breaths of another one of his enemies defeated.

Making matters odder, the event he was witnessing from his past came to him through the perspective of the other party involved.

He stared at himself, knowing what he was thinking at the time, and let go of any mental resistance distorting the clarity of the flashback.

From his perspective, seeing them there, the challenger who lost to him, grievously wounded yet still attempting to fight back, triggered a strange feeling within him. A feeling he had not been accustomed to feel. Few adversaries of his displayed such honor. Because of all this, he held back when knocking down his attacker, the initial aggressor, for the final time. As a result of the peculiar way this encounter unfolded, this particular foe's resiliency served as the catalyst enticing him to grant a rare courtesy.

Emotionless, he asked.

"Any last words?"

As opposed to immediately finishing the enemy off without a second thought, curiosity got the better of him, wondering what they might have to say right before he finished them off. Baffling described the way the skirmish unfolded. All of a sudden, while Ka was minding his own business passing through a typically empty part of his territory, a random female warrior ambushed him. Anyone with half a brain would have known their efforts would ultimately be futile. Yet they did it anyway.

Before a word was spoken in response, the defeated enemy who he now looked out of the eyes of through an eldritch flashback, relinquished an easygoing chuckle.

What unfolded next would definitely be considered an anomaly to how the few others acted when granted a last chance to speak.

"Because you asked, I shall oblige. To begin, I wish for you to know the name of the life you will soon take. It's Kerriga."

He refrained from offering his identity in exchange because virtually no possibility existed that she was unaware of it, him being one of the three top Rulers and all.

"Alright."

With a simple nod, Ka signaled for her to continue.

Kerriga collected her long pink hair and put it over a shoulder, then proceeded to lay flat on her back, absent mindedly staring at the sky.

"Doesn’t it seem odd to you? How the world is filled with all this beauty, yet something always has to ruin it. Like either some Creator, or the consciousness of life itself, secretly has this infatuation with cruel irony, their red hands stained by everything bad they could have, no, should have, prevented. All my life, I was never afforded much of a good time in any capacity. And yet, I still found beauty in the world, facing each day with an exuberant excitement. Today, I feel tired. Oh, so tired. I'm ready to go. Better by your hand, Lord of the Undead Blade, than mine."

She flashed him a smile. Whatever Ka expected to hear from her in these final moments, this wasn't it. Caught off guard, he offered no verbal response, only replicating the slight nod he'd given before. Lying calmly on the grassy knoll gazing up at the sky, she hadn’t bothered to so much as glance towards him, as if delivering her last words brought on at least a semblance of cathartic peace.

Everything went black, the flashback ending with him sheathing the undead blade Pestilence and walking away, leaving her there alone. Wounded… but alive.

Verse III: The Bigger They Are, The Harder They Fall

Back on the battlefield, Lucifer in gargantuan beast form dominated the other two active combatants. In this instance, size most certainly mattered, and utilizing brute strength he saved for special occasions such as this, forced Lilith into an exclusively defensive position with no openings for a counterattack.

Swipe after swipe she dodged the Devil's razor-sharp claws, each capable of cleaving her in half had they landed. It was only a matter of time. Frantically bobbing and weaving, she tripped and went down hard. Lucifer went straight for the throat, attempting to rip out her jugular with his powerful jaws. At the last second she managed to roll once, then twice, when Michael attacked from the rear, seeing an opening, and leaping into the air intending on putting all his might into an overhand, two-handed flaming sword attack. Unfortunately for him, he never saw the tail swipe coming, whacking him so hard the blow cracked a few ribs. Flying through the air, face full of utter dismay at the first time his holy armor had been penetrated, the Archangel put an arm out to lessen the damage from his crash landing, skirting across the ground and losing a gauntlet in the process.

The distraction allowed barely enough time for Lilith to get back on her feet, but by using the momentum from the tail swipe like a wind up, the Beast landed a back hand, direct hit, resulting in the Queen sus—

“How?”

Only managing to utter one word, the Devil watched in horror as the Queen of the Damned blocked his assault and immediately went on the offensive, putting a hand out straight to chest, palm flat, blasting a wave of dark energy so powerful it went through the defeated Ruler’s chest and bursting out the other side.

Lucifer was the first to be defeated, sustaining such terrible damage it forced a reversion to his earlier human-like form.

Lilith smiled with wicked satisfaction, placing her boot on his chest and rubbing it in, tormenting him both literally and emotionally.

"How ironic, the devil has fallen from grace. And yes, that pun was intended."

A non-verbal ceasefire commenced, all of the combatants looking down at the infamous Ruler of Hell.

Mustering all of his energy, Lucifer tried sitting up only for Lilith to knock him back down.

Both outcasts moved forward for a closer look. Ka leaned forward, inches from the dying entities face, belittling him.

"Not looking so hot there, old buddy, ole pal. Glad you've finally gotten a taste of your own medicine. Hope you enjoy rotting in Limbo. I'm sure plenty friends of yours shall welcome you with open arms."

Off to the side, Michael didn't bother looking, surprised by the absent emotions he expected to feel, should Lucifer’s downfall come to pass. He kept silent, enduring a whirlwind of inner turmoil. Putting their differences aside, at the end of the day the two of them were brethren. Sometimes blood ran thicker than water, and sometimes it didn't. For all the havoc his rival had wreaked upon the World. For all the time justice had not been served, he expected to feel differently than he did. Surprisingly, not an ounce of fulfillment nor satisfaction lifted his spirits. All he felt was another hole in his heart.

An explosion of immense power nearly obliterated Lucifer's body, forcing Ka to leap back instinctively to avoid any potential destructive blowback.

With no hesitation, Lilith delivered the double tap, ruthlessly. If there was any chance of the Devil getting back up to his feet, that was now gone.

Ka raised one eyebrow.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Yes. Yes it was."

Lilith stared daggers into him, what felt like into his soul, then moved on from fighter to fighter, asserting her domination.

With all of them now spread out again atop 'The Mouth of Wrath,' Michael transferred positions from leaning on his holily imbued, sacred longsword to flip it around, holding it in his hand.

He couldn’t muster the strength any longer to hold the blade. Fallen from his hand, the angel could no longer grip his fiery weapon

"Shall we continue?"

Said malevolently by Lilith, it was more of a statement than a question. The word mercy did not exist in her vocabulary. She readied another attack to unquestionably slay the defenseless fighter. Amassed inside her hand, a great ball of fire grew steadily in size until the flame engulfed more than half her hand.

Without warning, she flung the fireball straight at Michael. By the time he saw it coming, he had no chance. Doing his best to brace for impact in the extremely limited number of milliseconds before the attack landed, he could vaguely make out Lilith taunting him.

"Special delivery! Order for one, Archangel Ass-kisser, is on the way."

Engulfed in flame, Michael went flying backwards yet again from the spectacular power of the spell. Once he was done flying through the air, he landed on a barren patch of dirt leaving a ten foot trail marked into the ground from where he landed to where he ended up.

Burnt like a crisp, remnants of fire dancing along his armor, he used the side of his arm to wipe the blood off his face.

Left with a post-delivery gift of excruciating pain, the Archangel Michael somehow managed to get up.

"That all ya got? I was expecting a bit more oomph behind that one. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Infuriated, Lilith charged, blinded by anger and rage brought about by the taunting. This time she’d hit him with something so devastating it would far exceed the threshold of overkill.

Just as she was about to strike, a sliver of a moment before reaching the agitator, she stopped, watching him collapse awkwardly to the ground. At best, he crumpled down unconscious. At worst, Michael already breathed his last breath.

Replicating her earlier finishing move on Lucifer, the victor began powering up to make certain her foe was done for.

Gone in a flash with lightning speed, the unknown combatant repositioned themselves and now stood face to face with the Queen of the Damned, holding up a hand in a manner equivalent to the universal symbol to stop.

More puzzled than anything else, Lilith obliged, but only paused, the beginning of a fireball still harnessed within her grip. Unphased by her new challenger, she quickly issued a single warning.

"You have five seconds to get out of the way, stranger. 5, 4--."

Either his eyes were playing tricks on him, or Ka saw a flash of pink hair. No slouch himself when it came to speed and agility, quickly he made his way over to where the main battle had migrated.

The Stranger spoke smoothly.

"You're awful rude, you know, excluding me from this fight. Why don’t we have ourselves a little chat first, eh?”

The two of them seemed to briefly relax, the proposition hanging in the air creating a thick tension.

The Queen stopped counting and crossed her arms, frowning, contemplating the request.

"Fine. Say what you want to say, and don’t mince words. Proceed."

Verse IV: Don’t Sleep On The Ending to This One

Needing confirmation about what he thought he saw, Ka cut them both off to speak what weighed so heavily on his mind.

"This can't be right. I know you. And the one time we met, you tried to kill me! Give me a second, Kira was it? Kyra?"

"Close, but no. It's not my true name, however, Kerriga is the one I fancy others to address me by."

Before he could get a word in, Ka noticed out of the corner of his eye a brutish looking orc standing over eight feet tall, armored, and brandishing a massive axe, charging towards the newly revealed stranger.

Ka stared right at her, dismayed at the fact although she never moved, the orc aggressor disintegrated into a pile of bones tumbling around her feet. It was as if reality itself glitched, or time had stopped, and within that brief instance the foe had been utterly neutralized.

Even Lilith looked impressed, a first for the Queen of the Damned. While she remained silent processing this latest development, the Ruler of the Shadow Realm continued asking more questions.

"Who are you? Why are you here? And what was the point of our meeting all that time ago."

Kerriga unclipped her cloak and hood, unveiling a rather basic onyx tunic and pant underneath, her arms being the only visible skin. A pair of serpents mirrored each other on each arm like tattoos, until they began to glow and slither towards her spine.

"Concerning your last question, I needed to alter destiny such that the events that followed would bring you here. I may or may not have done similar things behind the scenes for the others."

The blankest of expressions manifested all over Ka's face.

"And?"

"And maybe you'd do well to ask one question at a time the next opportunity you have to seek answers."

Kerriga didn't make direct eye contact with him, instead focusing on making a series of movements with her hands, simultaneously uttering incantations under her breath.

Slowly at first, then growing exponentially in speed, the hands of time moved backwards.

Michael returned to his previously uninjured status. Lucifer resurrected, then transformed and reverted once again.

When it was all said and done, the five of them returned to the time before any of the fighting had started. A translucent dome encircled the five of them atop the Mountain of Wrath. The crowd previously around them had been dispersed.

The three Rulers of Demon World along with Michael said nothing, apprehensively waiting for Kerriga to speak, memories of the battle fresh in their minds.

At long last, she did.

"Now that you've had your little playtime fun, I've come with news you ought listen too. The Creator of Heaven and Earth, Demon World, and everything in between or outside, is no more. As the Successor, I am privy to many things, and I can tell you for certain not one of you had any chance at the Crown, nor Glory."

She looked at each of them individually, and lastly at Michael.

"For before Creation comes Destruction, and another seeks the Crown to ultimate power. Only we have a chance at stopping it. The Old God Cthulhu has awoken."