Netori: Stealing The Hero's Party!

Another day in the third level of the hells, but something was different, something odd had been going on. Tariyaan, a named devil not yet a primordial, had led a charge of a dozen million imps and the most iron of monsters through the living gates of the level's ruler.

A true primordial had been slain today and his body rots under the feet of a man with a million faces. To some, he was a monster, to others a handsome devil, but to the enlightened, he was as he truly was, a trickster with a mask that shadowed his true emotions.

Crushing the primordial's body under his boots, Tariyaan stared into his dead eyes with one hand grabbing the devil's tall horn. Pulling on it, he flinched for a moment but after putting in just a little more effort he tore the torn right off the corpse's skull.

"A trophy of the hunt," he said, walking across the body with the horn laid on in front of him.

Admiring the devil's metal horns, he knew it would join the ranks of other treasures deep within his treasury. Without a word, his subordinates grabbed the dead titan's body and began dragging it out of the throne room. His blood marked the floor red as they did, but instead of revulsion, the attendees felt pride in turning a primordial into dye for their rug.

In that moment they understood why their master loved the thrill of collecting such relics. To have the finger of a god, the trachea of one, or the horns of a devil or perhaps the entire body of one, a trophy in the truest sense–but one that could be used to push the world to its limits.

"Libyan…" Looking to the sidelines with the horn still in hand, Tariyaan gestured his favorite closer, and although reluctant, she moved closer to her master. "Here you go sweetheart, handle this with care, I wish to craft a pair of crowns out of this obsidian metal."

"Crowns?" She repeated, frowning as she took the horn.

With a smile riding on his lips, the soon-to-be primordial placed a hand on her shoulders before relieving her doubts with a whisper.

"A king needs a queen and I couldn't ask for a better one," his response angered her deeply and she made no attempts to hide it either.

"Lamia's eat their mate once their job's done," she barked, her noses scrunched in anger.

But laughing it off, Tariyaan began scaling the mountainous steps leading up to the burning throne made of volcanic rocks. Every step he took enlarged his body, almost as if he was absorbing the powers of the titan that he'd slain just now. However, it wasn't just him who felt that expanse, for the followers present, even Libyan could feel a surge of power blooming from within.

'What the hell is happening to me?' She thought and so did the other, but with Tariyaan taking the throne, their attention didn't stray long.

The moment he sat on that burning seat, his flesh seared against its heat. Flames reputed from his back and the sheer intensity of it brought an intense expression to Tariyaan's face. As large as a titan, he sat on the burning throne, teeth gripped shut to struggle through the pain, the devil of the third hand was finally beyond named. A primordial was born on the day of one's death, the lord of the third of level hell was gone and swiftly replaced by a man not a tenth of his strength. His army was enough and through deals most profane, he'd finally achieved what he'd always wanted.

A ripple of joy erupted through the ranks of his subordinates, but a handful remained pessimistic as ever, and that included Libyan–the lamian queen who'd defied death again and again.

'If only I could be on that throne instead!' She thought while picturing herself as the queen of hells. Servitude had never been forte, but to refuse Tariyaan would mean the death of her soul and to her nonexistence would be worse than hell. 'You want me to be your queen, huh? I wonder if I can use that to my advantage?'

Already plotting to betray him, she smiled as did the other, she clapped as did the other, she revelled in the name of her master, and at the end, she even sat on the seat he'd conjured beside him. While sitting right next to the new lord of the third level, she kept up her appearance for if the army of Tariyaan could defeat a primordial, then what chance did she have to stand up against him?

The thought plagued her more and more, but she wasn't the only one worried about the possibilities. As up above on the surface, another primordial was closely watching the events unfolding dangerously close to her home. The primordial succubus–the Mistress, the lord of the ninth's level of hell and the usurper of Asmodia's righteous title, she couldn't get her eyes off of what had happened, for nobody in the history of the world had ever killed a primordial through sheer numbers gathered underneath them.

Even her own army consisted only of a few hundred thousand, while Tariyaan had a multiple of millions, and too just imps. The best of the monster races of Atlaria were serving under him as well, Libyan was one, and Perhaps Mino would've ended up within his grasp as well had Raven not accepted her into his group.

'This is getting ugly…' She thought, for once not laying bare in her bed being serviced by sacrificial virgins. Milo's influence had affected the offering she'd been getting, even then through the shadows she had plenty of toys to play with–but not today, for things could easily turn messy.

Sitting upright in her study with the whole of the maze closed off, she submitted herself to studies of tomes of long-lost archaic magic. But nothing in those pages made much sense to the succubus for she was not born through the Creator but rather the actions of two imps fucking each other.

'Asmodia, she could probably read this easily…' She thought after trying for hours to decipher the words, only to end up with a handful of disjointed lines transcribed to the modern language but even then they made little sense.

Shaking her head, she agonized over the same thought–how could she defend herself if Tariyaan tried to invade her realm? The answer was simple, but she simply didn't wanna rely on Asmodia. However, thinking of Asmodia, her mind glanced over everyone who was often around the devil of seduction, and only then did she remember.

"Linkle…she wants to kill Tariyaan anyways, maybe I can–" The more she thought, the more sense the idea made, after all, what better way to get rid of a problem than to dump the responsibility on someone else with the same enemy? Finally, as a smile took over her lips, she began to untangle just how exactly she's gonna help the witch and the heroes without seeming desperate.

'Yes! This should work!' Needless to say, it didn't take the primordial long to plot her scheme full of deception. Now the only thing that remained, "I need to get in touch with Raven."