Various conflicted emotions surged at the steps leading down.
Lyra, suppressing anger and envy, walked to Adam's side. The way her pupil-less eyes shone with a dark light through her narrowed gaze… it was a constant reminder as to why he was so infatuated with this beauty.
"Come here."
With a possessive grunt, Adam's hand slid around Lyra's waist, pulling her flush against his side. Although the fur cloaks of the two didn't allow for the ever-so-desirable sensation of flesh on flesh, it couldn't stop the heat that they radiated.
Warming each other.
Almost too hot even.
She was stiff, simmering in mild annoyance and anger, her silver eyes rolling.
He ignored her resistance, guiding her firmly down the roughly cut steps of the open room.
Dense, hot steam rose from his body, a visible aura of power and rapid cellular regeneration, the heat from his healed injuries and the recent activities merging with the hellish air.
The scent was primal, intoxicating.
Slung over his other shoulder, concealed beneath the heavy, dark fur of his cloak, was a seductive, feminine shape. One of his arms was hooked under her thighs, holding her effortlessly.
His demon horde, with those of greater strength standing at the front, watch his decent of the much shorter staircase than that of the nexus's.
Fear, worship, lust.
They had heard the carnal sounds of debauchery as their lord was now much closer to the ground; a 'privilege' that was only heard by those at the peak-tier before, as their heightened senses allowed them to.
The subtle aura that Adam, their lord, had been releasing, had already laid out a preliminary foundation as a devil of lust.
Their DNA, connecting to the ancestral bloodlines of their kind, forged and shaped from countless eons of adaptation and evolution, was already laying out a path that would suit their master.
Differing paths, like those of fire, muscles, or blades, have now been opted out.
It was similar to some games in that way: choosing the type of army you want, making them all of the same type, or at least of the similar attribute, to further synchronize and benefit your forces.
The most disturbing part was that it was subconscious. Shaping the lives of demons without even putting the effort to do so.
Adam moved, his hand on Lyra's waist, parting the sea of demons.
Less grotesque monsters appeared, now having a normal-ish humanoid appearance as compared to before. At least now you could discern where their faces were… for most that is.
Through the soft fur of her own cloak, which she, like him, wore nothing, his fingers kneaded the firm, rounded flesh of her buttock without restraint; uncaring even as the demons looked on.
Each squeeze was deliberate, a physical reminder of his ownership even as he sought to soothe her.
"At ease, my queen," He purred, his breath hot, "Your fire is beautiful, but do not waste it on jealousy. She is nothing compared to you."
He was trying to placate her, to stroke her pride even as his actions stoked the flames of her anger.
Lyra seethed, her mind screaming that this 'red midget' was a threat, a viper he was foolishly bringing into their nest.
Meanwhile, under the heavy cloak Saphira was unnaturally calm.
The thought of attacking, of struggling, didn't even flicker in her mind. The lesson had been carved into her flesh and soul.
If nearly being beaten to death and the violation wasn't a sufficient deterrent, then nothing would be.
In the cold heart of Kaelgor's domain.
The night before.
In Kaelgor's fortress, shadows, broken only by the glow of rustic torches mounted on black iron walls, and the flickering light of miasma clouds meandering in the sky allowing the faint hazy light in.
The rhythmic clank of mining operations echoed through the corridors like heartbeat even at this late hour. Rest was for the privileged, for those who had power.
Shadow's moved in silence, keeping the working beasts under order.
Within this fortress, in a chamber lit by a single, large black brazier, Kaelgor sat upon a chair, or more like a throne, of rough and sturdy black stone.
Before him, spread across a crude table before him, were dozens of hides; the flayed skins of demonic beasts, stretched and cured over hells fires. On these surfaces, written in a jagged, demonic script, were the meticulous records of their warehouses stock; though not all initially his...
'15,000 tons of abyssal steel… 300 tons of fire diamonds… 2,000 tons black gold…'
Each entry represented goods subtly siphoned from the territories of Vorlag and Malgrim, the other two peak-tier devils, and quietly stockpiled within Kaelgor's own domain.
It was a slow, methodical robbery, all blatantly recorded in ink mixed with ash and blood. Only viable in the absence of the two.
Over the years of no conflicts, of only steadily retrieving resources from the mine, the territory under Lord Gorael's command had stockpiled a small fortune of materials.
"15,000 tons… enough to arm around 50,000 demons!" Kaelgor's eyes gleamed with excitement and greed.
For normal humanoid demons, being around 2 meters in height, Kaelgor would be able to arm a small army with the resources listed. The only problem would be the metal working and forging, but that was something that could be dealt with at a later time.
Then there was also the fire diamonds, which held potent fire elemental mana, and the black gold, which was extremely conductive of demonic mana.
Great resources at the lower realms, capable of being useful even at the Greater Devil Realm.
He narrowed his eyes, a small smirk on his lips, as he started to plan a future with plentiful resources at his command.
He had even secured a safe destination in hell's lowers layers.
"Creek~"
The heavy, iron doors to the chamber groaned open.
A berserker demon, his massive body clad in the sleek, dark plates of abyssal steel, strode in. He approached the throne and dropped to one knee with a clank of armor, his head bowed, his breathing controlled.