Headed by a Snake

Dreslat felt rivers of sweat dripping down his brow.

He didn't even know that devils could sweat before then!

Things looked grim, but... was it really impossible? The angel was outnumbered over twenty to one!

After all those decades of mind-numbing, claw-breaking work-- could they just give up like that???

If all his allies sacrificed themselves, then maybe-- JUST MAYBE, Dreslat could land a decisive, killing--

--guh... err... crippling blow!

Maybe?

"AIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!"

Yes yes yes yes YES YESSSS!!

THAT was the unmistakable battlecry of the sharp-toothed devil!

Maybe Dreslat didn't have to move, after all!

It sounded like someone ELSE had the fiery will to fight against an all-powerful, nigh-invincible im-MORTAL BEING!!

That guy-- he was a Legion Devil! He used to fight for an Archduke! He was--

"(Did that fellow just... pass out?)" Boss asked.

Eh?

HuHH?

WHAAAAT?!?

But--

WHY??!!

--and... HOW??!??!

After how much that guy talked himself up, HOW could he just FALL un-CONSCIOUS just when his closest friends and family needed him the MOST!!!

"GRAHH AHHHRGG gLLOOO," Catherine cried.

"(Ah. Miss Catherine. You look as lovely as ever,)" Boss nodded, surely with evil, extra-angelical intentions in mind. "(Bucket, this is Catherine.)"

"(Good afternoon, Miss. It's a pleasure to meet you.)"

No.

No, no, no... It couldn't be...

But it was.

Dreslat slowly cranked his head to the side.

--and he blinked away the neverending flow of tears from his eyes.

There was... another human.

No-- it must have been another angel, like Boss.

Bucket... that was an angel-name, if he'd ever heard one. It just RADIATED with DIGNITY and HOLY POWER!!

Two of them!!!

Two... impossibly strong... heavenly beings.

Before, Dreslat was certain he was going to die.

But since there were two of them... he was certain his death was going to be worse than his darkest, most insidious nightmares.

"(Demons, Devils, and distinguished guests,)" Boss began...

...

Tycondrius swept his hand outward.

"I am in need of an army," he declared, "one comprising loyal and capable soldiers."

Confusion swept into the ranks-- or rather, the discombobulated gaggle he was addressing.

--which was... far from the response he was imagining.

--"(Is he talking to us?)"

--"(Not a chance.)"

--"(He's looking this way, though?)"

From the affectations of the crowd, Tycon realized that he'd been... hasty in his choice of words.

"Um. Excuse me, uh-- Mister Human, Sir?"

Tycon raised his eyebrows. One of the demons was speaking in the common tongue.

It was a humanoid demon with red skin, like many of his peers, though his hands only had two digits.

He didn't look very strong, but he'd do.

When Tycon said he needed capable warriors, the term 'capable' was highly subjective.

One particular demon was weaving through the crowd, a tall, skin-and-bone devil with torn wings and a tail, broken and healed thrice over.

It was one of the two he recognized, having subjugated him some years prior.

With an adept show of speed and skill, that fellow punched the two-clawed fellow in the abdomen and kneed him in the crotch.

"(HIS. NAME. IS. BOSS!!!)" the broken-tail devil screamed, "(Show some respect, demon-lords ASCEND YOU! Or our lives are FORFEIT!!!)"

Then, that devil grabbed the other's head, forcing him into a low bow.

Tycon pursed his lips and nodded, pleased with the display of deference.

"Do you see that one, young man? I like that one."

"Wow," Pale tilted his head. "You're kinda popular, Boss."

"It's due to a fortunate coincidence," Tycon waved. "Some of these hellborne should be familiar to you, as well. We chanced upon them in that Wizard's Tower with Lulu and Wolfrider."

"Ahh, wow," Pale nodded. "That was a really long time ago."

Hmph. Tycon did not consider it that long ago.

"Anyroad," he thrust his palm out at the crowd, "I'm conscripting the lot of you. You fight for me, now."

--"Ehh? Uh... (well, alright.)"

--"(A fight sounds good. I was kinda bored doing all that digging.)"

--"(Gainful employment, this quick? The Human Realm is AWE-some!!)"

The broken-tailed fellow immediately collapsed, his face hitting the ground much like the horned devil prior.

That was... highly abnormal. Was there a sickness or plague affecting the troop?

"What are we fighting?"

That question came from... what appeared to be a tentacle, separate from a logical body. It also had blinking, functional eyes.

More disturbingly, it had no mouth discernible at first glance.

Hm.

But regardless--

"Does it... matter?" Tycon asked.

"D'uh... No, I guess not," the tentacle replied.

--"(Oh, wow! New perspective achieved!)"

--"(Yeah! Let's. fight. EVERYONE!)"

--"GRAHGR GRAH BRBBBRBRBBBRRRRR"

"That's exactly right!" Pale cheered.

Tycon narrowed his eyes. It sounded like the boy could understand Catherine's dialect.

...It was yet another sign that he was a proper Hero.

The two-clawed demon took a step forward, bowing again, "Excuse me? Boss?"

The broken-tailed devil's earlier show of respect had influenced Tycon's mood.

Thus, he held out his hand as a noble display of magnanimity, "You may speak."

...

Dreslat sat up on his knees.

Just a moment ago, he'd heard demon-speech so incredibly stupid that something in his brain popped.

His eyes were leaking-- but he'd get over it.

Getting back to his feet, he vaguely discerned Two-Claw's voice rise out of the crowd.

"(My lord, Boss,... we left our arms and armor behind, when we left the) Eternal Battlefield."

Huh. That guy could speak human pretty well.

Dreslat had no idea what his point was. Conscripts had to fight with whatever they had on them, with clothes and weapons or even without.

Suddenly, Dreslat felt... danger? Not very-dangerous danger, but... moderate? danger?

It was raining swords.

And axes.

And pieces of chain and leather armor?

"(Decide amongst yourselves your weapons and armor of choice,)" Boss declared. "(If you're a devilblood or have the intellectual capacity to count to 12, you are to arrange leftover supplies in piles on my left.)"

The crowd began to work, some mumbling indignantly, some yapping away excitedly. It didn't take long for fighting to break out-- the sounds of breaking bone and clawing into flesh.

The hellborne were... fighting over equipment?!

"But... this... ISN'T RIGHT!" Dreslat screamed over the cacophony.

--"Yeah, horn-brain. Extra gear goes on our left, don't it?"

--"Dreslat's right, thought! Boss's left is different from our left!"

Which was it?

Dreslat passed a pair of boots to a Fury Devil. They were two sizes too small for him. She then used ⌈Telekinesis⌋ to deposit them the right, where they belonged.

That ungrateful b*tch didn't even acknowledge him for it! Urgh. The nerve...

But, besides the good work in ordering the equipment piles, everyone had been overtaken by GREED!! What happened to the freedom they were searching for!? Weren't they all trying to get AWAY from the fighting??

Dreslat caught the gaze of the horned devil from earlier.

That guy was wearing dark, studded leather, wielded a wicked black-metal trident, and was inspecting a leather helmet.

It would have to be modified to fit his head, though. Having horns was troublesome, sometimes.

"Really?" Dreslat asked.

"Before you start talking shite," the guy growled, "take a good f*ckin' look at yourself."

Dreslat looked down. He was wearing a chain shirt and was carrying a pole-axe in each hand.

Oh no.

He let go of the weapons.

One immediately got snatched away by a three-fulm tall imp, "yasSSS!! MINE!!"

Dreslat immediately recovered the other poleaxe, cursing himself for dropping the first.

He sat on the hard, rocky ground, clutching his weapon close to his chest and staring up at the fiery sky.

He was going to be enslaved again. So was everyone else, and they were okay with it.

They were all returning to the cycle.

But maybe... the cycle wasn't meant to be broken.

Maybe... he didn't just live in a literal hell, but in a figurative one, too.

But then Dreslat noticed a strange movement.

One demon amongst many... a single demon wasn't fighting... nor was he rushing to claim leftover dregs in one of a dozen physical squabbles.

Maltwick was tottering forward, his gait slow, but deliberate. He crouched down to dodge a slow swing of a Soggy Devil's axe. He hopped over an acid puddle, spewed by a Frog Demon.

Against all odds, he made his way.

Until finally... he stood at the base of the upraised rock from whence an angel was perched.

And the Divine Immortal silently judged him with piercing golden eyes.

...

Tycon carefully observed the demon that approached his aptly majestic rock.

It... didn't seem particularly hostile-- or threatening.

He or she stood almost two fulms shorter than him or Pale, but it was crouched over, weighed down by a cluster of glowing orbs on its back.

"I won't fight," it said.

Those words...

--was it... the... spark of a rebellion?

Looking around, the other hellborne had ceased or slowed their actions, uncertain gazes watching with great interest.

Tycon placed his palm on the pommel of his sword.

The first response he conjured in his mind was... to hack the fellow into several pieces.

The second idea he had... was to order his Hero companion to commit the violence in his stead.

Unfortunately, (and despite the entertainment value,) either would be a loss of resources.

There weren't so many demons and devils that he felt comfortable discarding the riffraff.

By his usual standards, he'd class two-thirds of the motley crew as riffraff.

Tycon needed them all.

...he needed every advantage he could get.

Pale stepped forward, "If you won't fight, what *do* you wanna do?"

The back-orb demon returned Pale's gaze, determination burning in its eyes.

"I want to dig."

Pale turned to Tycon, "Can we use that, Boss?"

Hm.

Tycon shrugged in response, "I don't see why not."

He turned to face the back-orb demon, "I just so happen to need a Digging Leader for our newly made... Digging Squad. Are you up to the task?"

"The one you liked, Boss," Pale whispered, "it looks like something's wrong with him?"

Tycon looked up. The broken-tailed devil had collapsed-- again.

Once the hellborne were properly situated, he needed to check their medical conditions before he continued his plans.

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