The Twelve Apocalypses: A Damned Soul's Path to the Abyss

In fact, as I walked the streets of the conquered city, I quickly realized that far less time had passed than I originally thought. It wasn’t as exaggerated as hours inside translating to mere minutes outside, but the ratio was still significant. I wasted hours in the Absorption Station. But by my best estimate using the position of the sun, only a single hour had passed outside. Or a whole day had gone by, but that didn’t seem likely.

This did, however, leave me in a bit of a pickle. I was a newly recruited soldier in a demonic army, stuck in a body that wasn’t originally mine, with only a marginal understanding of my new world.

In other words, I had no damn clue what to do with myself.

Naberius’s instructions were to entertain ourselves and rest for a short while, but I didn’t even know where to find a place a sleep. I suppose I could have asked someone, but I was more than a little reluctant to do so.

After all, I was surrounded by demons who had just conquered a human city. Admitting my ignorance would be a sign of weakness I could not afford. Same with the few human soldiers I saw mingling in the demonic crowd.

My time in the Absorption Station had also left me with a pathetic twenty-six soul budget, which was unlikely to go far in any of the shops. Still, for lack of a better option, I decided to do some browsing and keep an eye out for somewhere to sleep.

The obviously magical shops were designed to catch people’s eye, including mine. I whiled away a decent bit of time just checking out their merchandise, which was almost entirely war-related.

One shop displayed a glowing sword that screamed danger, both literally and metaphorically. I got a headache just looking at the cyan runes that covered the blade. While I was staring wistfully at the weapon, a customer actually inquired about it. The shopkeeper picked up the sword and nicked his finger on the blade’s tip. Fat drops of blood exploded out of the small wound, and the runes drank greedily, taking on a hungry red glow.

The asking price was apparently too much because the demon walked out of the shop looking downtrodden. The shopkeeper looked clearly annoyed to have wasted his blood and time.

I watched dozens of similar interactions happen, filling me with a strange sense of disquiet. Not because the demons were doing something unnatural or intimidating. Far from it. They were acting like regular, everyday people going about their regular, everyday lives.

That’s what threw me off.

These weren’t the shadowy figures that had haunted Hayden’s life, laughing and jeering at him. These were normal, upright citizens. They just happened to be a little bloodthirsty by nature, and fed primarily on souls.

I realized the weight of that ’primarily’ when I entered a different section of the rearranged city and came across a host of different food stands. Preciously few demons were in this area, except as stall owners. My stomach chose that moment to remind me I hadn’t eaten in quite a while. I held out for as long as I could, fueled by my concerns over the quality and origin of the food around me.

Eventually, I caved.

I chose to approach a demon selling aromatic skewers of meat, which his sign proudly proclaimed to be ’chicken.’ Was it a demonic kind of chicken? Or just the mundane animal meat I was familiar with? Or was ’chicken’ demon-code for ’human meat?’

Frankly, with my mouth watering and stomach rumbling, I no longer cared.

The sign said a single skewer cost one lesser soul. I asked for five and turned over a basic soul, making sure to apologize politely for not having change.

"Oh, don’t worry, we get plenty of customers like you immediately after a battle. This is your first one, right? I hear they used this city to test out the newest recruits," the stall owner replied while handing back five lesser souls.

"Um, yeah. That’s me. Fresh recruit. I think I did relatively well, though." I was saying more than I needed to, and I knew it. Maybe the smell of food was getting to me. Accepting the change, I stuck around to watch the demon make my skewers on the spot. The meat did look like chicken, and the ease with which he handled the process revealed long years of experience in the art of skewers. Then, the demon found another lesser soul and popped it into his stove, which sent the flames roaring upwards.

"Well, you made it, so you definitely did something right! Now, some people like to look down on humans, especially those who are new recruits. But ignore them, okay? Hell, you know what?" The stall owner motioned me closer like he was sharing some major secret, and I reluctantly leaned in. "My grandfather was a human."

He laughed at my startled expression, and I rushed to explain myself. "I didn’t realize. I would have never known with how… um… nice your horns are!"

I wasn’t exactly fibbing. The man did have large horns that jutted forward and then swept back in a rather classic demon look. But I also had absolutely no idea what ’nice horns’ looked like. What if he took it as an insult?

Thankfully, nice was the right thing to say.

"Why thank you!" The demon beamed at me happily. "Really, it’s no big deal. If you just keep doing your best and kill those pesky locals, I’m sure you’ll manage to ascend in no time. Then you can really start climbing the ranks."

Ah, there it is.

The casual mention of rampant murder, brought up in the same way one would talk about going to the office. I felt my mind reeling again. This friendly shopkeeper, eager to offer me encouragement and welcome, would have been equally thrilled to eviscerate me if I was a local.

I managed to keep my voice calm. "I’m going to do my very best."

It wasn’t a lie. I was rushing to leave behind my current status, for so many different reasons. After all, at the moment, I was no better than an intern who could be ’fired’ at any time. Except in my case, being ’fired’ probably meant my soul would be devoured, or torn apart to fuel some mundane part of demonic life. Like powering a stove.

"That’s the spirit! Do your best. Here, have a little extra." The demon shoved one more skewer at me with a wink. "You’re still young and need all the food you can get."

"Thank you, really."

Only then did I realize I was just awkwardly holding the skewers. So, giving in to the earnest eyes of the stall owner and my own hunger, I took a bite.

I had to fight down the urge to moan.

The skewers were perfect. The meat was so tender that it fell apart in my mouth, releasing just the right amount of warm juice. My taste buds started dancing at the perfect blend of spices and the comforting flavor of chicken. The herbs and veggies chosen as accompaniment were unfamiliar, but they were crisp, well cooked, and had absorbed just enough of the flavor to be that extra bit tastier.

Frankly, it was the most delicious bite of food I had ever put in my mouth. Maybe it was because I was starving. Maybe the demon really was the absolute paragon of skewer-cooks. I didn’t care. I didn’t even care if he was, in fact, using soul-powered fire to make the skewers.

"Jeez, that’s good," I mumbled between bites. "You’re the best damn cook I’ve ever met. I’m not even kidding. This is like all the flavors in the right place at the right time. "

My tongue was getting away from me a bit. I needed to be more careful. I was talking to a demon. He could vaporize me if I said a single wrong word. Instead, he just let me ramble, grinning at me like I had made his day.

"Sorry about that," I finally murmured when I was done, cheeks blushing furiously and hands fidgeting with the empty skewers.

"Oh, it’s fine. Not every day I see someone enjoy my cooking so much. I mean, I’ve only been at it for about four hundred years! I can hardly compare to some of the real chefs out there. Still, and I don’t mean to hurry you along kid, but maybe you should think about going to sleep? You’ll probably have a rough day tomorrow."

That crashed my mood pretty dang well. It must have shown on my face because he gave me a questioning look.

"Didn’t realize that we were shipping out tomorrow. I, um…" I felt ashamed, but this was probably the least dangerous informational opportunity I was going to get. I swallowed hard, then admitted, "I’m not really sure where to find a place to sleep, to be honest."

The man’s face brightened, and a mischievous glint entered his eyes. "Ahhh, right. You’re pretty fresh, and this legion is known for being… well, rough on recruits." He looked at me closely, as if considering what he was about to say. "You have the option of sleeping in the barracks, of course. I can even give you directions. But I wouldn’t recommend it."

"Any special reason why?"

"The safety and quality of barracks vary wildly by legion," he explained. "And, well, The Grand Duke of Torment isn’t exactly big on good amenities for his soldiers. Nah, it’s a much better idea to head for one of the inns. In fact, I recommend the Apple Infernal. They’re a chain, but their security and service is top-notch. Just five basic souls per night too. I’d head over soon if I were you."

The implication that it was time to leave was clear, and I nodded to show I understood. With a couple more words, I wrapped up my conversation with more effusive praise of the food, thanked the demon for all his help, and set off with directions to the inn.

I had a lot to think about as I walked. My experience with the stall owner was a pleasant breath of fresh air in a long, grim day.

It also confused the hell out of me.

Demons weren’t humans. That much was obvious from the start. The differences were biological, psychological, and fundamental.

But could I really say I hated or even disliked the species as a whole?

Earlier in the day, when all I had to go on were my interactions with the legion’s demons, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. Now? Things were slowly getting murkier, and I wasn’t a huge fan of that.

The thought of this being some kind of long con by the stall owner demon entered my mind, and then left as soon as I found my destination. The Apple Infernal turned out to be a well-appointed five-story building that towered over most of its neighbors. The whole place had a classy feel to it, making me wonder if I would even be allowed inside in my attire.

Of course, I then spotted an unmistakable ’legion’ demon stroll inside, wearing armor that barely covered his private bits and carrying a mace slung over his shoulder.

That helped me shed my hesitance fairly quickly.

The inn’s foyer was as elegant as the outside, complete with plush chairs and a vaulted ceiling painted in various grisly displays of murder, sex, and torment. My lips twitched at the dichotomy, but I kept my head down and headed for the reception desk.

The legion demon I had just spotted was already there, talking to one of the two female receptionists. Both ladies were dressed in sharp navy-blue suits. Their skin was pink, and their horns were much smaller than most other demons. They also had long, sinuous tails, which wove back and forth hypnotically behind them at all times.

The second receptionist was free and gave me a welcoming smile. I walked up to the counter. "Excuse me? I’m looking for a room for the night, if you still have space."

Unfortunately, before she could respond, the legion demon guest interjected. "Ugh. Fresh recruit. Do you really allow scum like this to just walk in and demand service? They shouldn’t be allowed in civilized establishments until they’ve earned their place."

The disgust in his voice was apparent, but so was the sudden annoyance on the two receptionists’ faces.

"Excuse me, dear customer," one of them said, "but it is our policy to service everyone who enters our fine establishment. If you find any of our other guests objectionable, you are free to leave and find accommodation elsewhere. I must, however, inform you that we will not be reimbursing you for any service you have already purchased. It’s simply policy, I’m sure you understand."

The woman’s voice was sickly sweet, but her words were firm. I strongly suspected that her attitude was at least partly related to the rude demon’s appearance. He looked filthier than I did, and I had spent the day fighting for my life and then undergoing soul surgery.

"You can’t speak to me like that!" the legion demon blustered. "I am —"

The demon suddenly choked, his eyes bugging out as the receptionist made one careless motion in his direction. She repeated the move, and he clutched his throat. Then he glared at everyone, but particularly at me, before running out the door.

"I’m terribly sorry for the delay, dear customer." The receptionist I had approached smiled at me. "Now, our standard service set is five basic souls per night. You would have access to a private room with a bathroom attachment, as well as a free breakfast and dinner. Lunch costs extra. But you can also use our amenities, like the gym, for free throughout the duration of your stay."

"That sounds wonderful," I said as I wondered how to repay the receptionists for what they just did. I settled on giving them a bit more information than necessary. "I’ll have to limit myself to a single night. I’m pretty sure we’ll be moving out tomorrow."

"Well, I’m sorry to hear that." The receptionist sounded anything but sorry as she took my souls and finished checking me in.

On purpose, I walked away a bit slower, lingering within earshot for a few more moments. That was all it took to catch the receptionists gossiping about how glad they were that the ’annoying legion’ would be gone soon. This confirmed a suspicion that had been growing in my mind all day. Somehow, thanks to my amazing luck, I had managed to land in what was probably the least-liked demonic legion in all of hell.

Lucky me!