Monarch Of Darkness, Arsene

"You…Call…those… options?" Spat Varis, through the foamy blood ebbing from his lips. Bearly enough energy to move, a sneer formed.

"I am sure you've felt the vortex of Hell open up. Even if you don't know what that means, you are sure to have felt the evilest aura imaginable a few kilometers away. Do you truly wish to end up like that whore you call a wife?"

Connecting the dots, a look of realization washed over his barren face. "No!"

Unsheathing Noctem from its cage, withering heat eating away at the fabric of the Fourth Heaven, the blade pressed against his neck, cracking the surface of this Pargon-torn skin.

Fear danced along his heart, and I was ready to steal his life and break his little mind. I was out of patience. He invaded my territory. The fact I wasn't tossing him into Hell and instead wasting words was a tribute to his skill and level. But was such a thing mercy that this King shouldn't have? Should I just enslave?

"You-You killed her…."

Slowly pushing the edge of Noctem through his neck, watching as his being began to wither and burn to my will, a delicious scream that could scare the bravest man came in howls that resonated from the fragment of his soul, bellowing through the Eben Forest.

Grief rivaling the greatest pain bleeding from the skies, as he cried, howling to the empty void, my blade sank deeper in till only silence echoed.

"You'll live the rest of your existence as a toy to my will. A demon of utter madness. One I'll break every day till your soul just cracks, and only insanity remains.

Branding my sigil over his soul with ease, knowing it could no longer protect itself, the sigil of the Hells made an appearance, bathing the night skies a deep scarlet that only seemed to darken as lingering intent of the nine hells came about, striking this world dozens of psionic image suddenly surrounded Layla, Darkmane and me.

Kings of Hells, Princes, Arc Dukes and Dukes came about. Their eyes locked upon this King with a glint of superiority.

"The King… Asmodeus is dead." Said Paimon, lifting his aged lips.

"And?"

A sharp scuff came about from Zagan. He leaned forward, arms at the fold, and spoke. "It means your rights to the hells have been revoked."

My right brow jumped, a cruel smile sunk deep into my lips, and a derisive laugh came." Is that so? And the Kings, Princes, dukes, and so on are standing by you." my eyes streaked through the dozen, of so devils, memorizing there faces.

"Word of warning Arsene Snow, we—"

"I will now personally lead the charge to the first layer of Hell. What is Hell without this King? "I mused; picking up Noctem, I pointed to Paimon. "Lucifer will not save you, and Asmodeus's throne is with me. There will be no king without my will."

Zargon, the King of Infernal Chaos, crackled. " You are in the big leagues now, boy… You die today."

"My King!" Shouted Layla picking her gaze up past the atmosphere of Iluthath to the Bed of Chaos. "An infernal formation cannon!"

"You and Ezra can perish by the power of the Nine congealed into this formation.

"Fuck! They're using a Chaos Drew! " shouted Darkmane, the fear evident in his voice.

"My King," said Layla, snapping her gaze to me. She fell short as she stared at the ice brimming from my eyes.

"Heaven or Hell. You two truly believe this King is defenseless."

A crackling laugh sounded from Noctem as Lily's intent began to swell over the edge. "It's not ready, but eighty percent of it is done. I'll regulate one percent for you. That should be more than enough. Let Lily show you the power of Abyssal Chaos."

"There be no—"

Zagon had not even finished before I took to the skies under the watchful eyes of the devils, Shadowfell, and paragons watching from around Iluthath. I could feel it all, the anxiety, the fear, the joy, the coldness. It was all flowing through me.

Noctem swept to the side parallel to my leg in a semi-circle arc of sword light glinting a profundity not even I understood.

Searing the flesh with its immaculate power shattering the confines of laws while also pushing aside concepts, an imperial will, dripped between my brow as the Throne of Darkness awakened to its might. And with its awakening, Images of the time I spent in Hell within the Origin realm appeared alongside the darkness.

"Arsene… don't do it," Lily warned. " Only Origin Realm Gods can battle like that!"

Ignoring her warning, the Crest of Hell, Darkness, and the Abyss all appeared over my head as I drew on the atonement of these great powers.

"I was sent to the origin realm for a reason. If I can't do this much, what good am I?" came my response in a cold icy voice.

Channeling the Powers of Ancients, the abyssal Runes over my body lit up with magical radiance, rippling like stars.

Holding myself together as the veins of infinite density and chaos ran through my veins like liquid fire, my teeth clenched so hard blood pooled from my gums and bobbled, evaporating due to the intense heat.

"What is that weapon!" Shouted Piomaon

But Layla was quick. Cutting apart their psionic image before any more was witnessed. She looked up at me alongside the others.

The Weave granted by Zareils blessing came over me. Filling my eyes with endless lines and nodes. Rivers of information pored through my mind and heart as I bent my knee and shot off the world's surface.

Tearing through Laws, the concept of supremacy glazed over my spear, awakening such an ancient bearing that my very arm caught aflame with Abyssal Flames, bleeding out.

The Infernal Canon brimming the power of a million collapsing stars native to the Hells bore its vicious nature as worlds through the Bed of Chaos began to burn and wither to dust as it gathered Laws and souls from all who lived.

Galaxies and nebulas faded to dust as Supermassive Blackholes began to reverse, twisting and kerning before losing their internal integrity; they began to fall apart, shattering, killing billions upon trillions by the second.

The Bed of Chaos quivered in fear, so much so that the Throne of Aldrich trembled deep within the Ring of Bael.

A spear-carrying chaos lettering in a language later known as abyssal script branded the blazing spear within the Infernal Canon formed under the infinite mass and pressure of this ancient formation.

"DIE!!!!" Zargon howled from the Nine Hells.