DOOM: Puer Infernalis V2

A/N: Soooo… how's everyone with the lockdown and shit? Spending my time just playing Doom 1 & 2 along with their expansions (Ultimate DOOM, BFG Editions for 1 & 2, TNT Evilution, and Plutonia Experiment) with some mods (mostly Brutal Doom or Project Brutality, with a few gameplay mods here and there to spice it up) because I'm too poor to play DOOM Eternal (*crie evrytim*) and because my laptop is a potato.

Speaking of DOOM Eternal, it's great to see just about everyone is singing praises of it. ID Software really upheld their end and gave out a product that shall be known for years to come. Of course, there are some naysayers (*cough*Upper Echelon Gamers*cough*Dean Takahashi*cough*Game Journos*cough*) but they are just petty little shits that never paid attention to what to do in the game.

And I also just found out about WADSmoosh. Jesus, this could've helped me AGES ago.

Revision Started: 03-26-2020 A.D.
Revision Uploaded: 07-05-2020 A.D.
Date Last Modified: 07-06-2020 A.D.

[Chapter 03: It Begins]

[Unknown Location | Midday]

When she had opened her eyes, Olga did not expect to see the clear blue sky above, nor did she expect to find herself lying on her back atop surprisingly even terrain of sand. Rising from her position, Olga began to assess her situation and take in her surroundings.

She was not alone, for all around her were large bodied beings clad head to toe in armored plating moving about, colored in varying shades of either green or brown, carrying strange weapons that seemed to be offshoots of muskets and pistols as far as she could tell. Multiple square buildings surrounded her and these beings as well. Judging by their appearance, they each seem to be some variation of the average fort yet Olga could not recall which nation in Selenus had this style of architecture. Everything around her felt off.

"A vision?" she asked herself aloud. She had not received visions in a long time ever since she had some the daemon Balth'Azar. For her to receive one in such a long period of time was both exciting and terrifying. Everything around her felt so foreign. Nothing but the sand was familiar to her. Looking around, she saw that there was a relatively large gathering just to the east of her current location. Curious, she made her way closer to the gathering. Knowing that this is a vision, none of this area's occupants paid her mind as she passed through them, sometimes literally doing so, to get a closer look at what was happening.

What she saw sickened her.

On their knees pleading were dark brown skinned people in clothing appropriate for the desert; fathers and mothers and sons and daughters, all of them at the mercy of these mysterious armored beings. Standing in front of these fearful people was a man in tanned clothing, sporting light brown skin. He spoke and though the language he spoke was foreign to her, she somehow understood his words.

"Men, do not be fooled by these camel fuckers. Each and every one of them is an insurgent from al-Ramal, waiting for us to lower our guard!" The armored beings snapped to attention at the man's words. This man would appear to be their leader. Olga snarled distastefully when she saw the mad gleam in the man's eye.

"They've been harassing our boys for months now! Using every damn trick in the book from ambushes to bombs in our cars and even using kids as their little carriers," the man snarled, and the people began to cower even further from him, mothers holding their children close and the fathers began to shield their family.

This was an execution, Olga realized. What purpose did the vision serve in showing her this grisly scene?

"Lieutenant," a hard voice grabbed her attention. Turning her head to face the speaker, she was greeted by the sight of the largest armored being present, judging by the tone this one was a clear male. From head to toe, every single inch of the being's body was covered in some form of armor or another. What stood out for her, apart from the being's size, was how mishmash the pieces of armor were from one portion of their body to another. Where most of the armored beings in this strange desert place wore armor that matched a certain aesthetic, this particular armored being had pieces of armor that fit no particular aesthetic.

His head as fully encased in a boxy armet with a wide glassy visor colored a murky gray, concealing his face from her, and his throat area being protected by a stout and thick gorget. His left arm and shoulder were encased in archaic pauldron, rerebrace, couter, vambrace, and gauntlet, all in a dull silver color. The right arm and shoulder counterparts were dark gray, sleek yet thick armored pieces that seemed to be more advance than anything any of the kingdoms and indigenous groups of Selenus can produce. His torso was covered in a dark green three-piece suit of armor resembling a hybrid of cuirasses used by the Kaisar Legions of the Far Northern continent and breastplates of Eostian knights, as far as she could tell, with strange grooves running across it, forming odd patterns. The two cuisses were similar to the armor pieces on his right arm and shoulder but the poleyn and greaves below that were archaic in design. The sabatons were stout and large, lacking poulaines as to not limit his feet's movement.

The apparent commander, this 'Lieutenant', turned fully to face the large being. While the distasteful man was taller than her by few inches, it was clear that the armored being towered over all present.

"What is it now, Corporal?" the armored being, 'Corporal', did not seem to be fazed by the Lieutenant's snappish words, as far as Olga could tell from how the being had no physical reaction to the man. The large man spoke once more, voice equally hard as before.

"These civvies were brought by Sanders and her squad. They were seeking refuge from al-Ramal, sir." The Lieutenant snarled in response.

"That's what these bastards want you to think, Corporal. If you ask me, the rest of them are probably waiting nearby for some signal," the Lieutenant responded, facing away from him and back towards the civilians.

"Men, I'm NOT taking any chances! And as your superior officer, I order all of you present to blast these goat fuckers into oblivion!" The soldiers looked to one another. Compared to the large Corporal, these men had their armets feature clear visors, allowing for Olga to look at their faces. Some were impassive at the horrendous order and most were showing unease. The impassive ones calmly readied their strange weapons and pointed them at the cowering desert dwellers.

Absolutely despicable, much like the zealous dogs under Celestine's kingdoms, all over a mere suspicion.

"Corporal," the Lieutenant spoke once more, grabbing the attention of the Corporal and Olga. The large armored man released a low rumbling sound, much like a growl of a great beast.

"Since you had the gall to question my authority, I'm giving you the order to fire upon these mooks!" Olga narrowed her eyes at the order this man gave to the armored being. Surely he wouldn't follow such an absurd claim, right?

"I see…" the Lieutenant walked up to the Corporal. He began to speak in numbers, baffling Olga.

"Trooper Eight-Eight-Eight dash Two-Three dash Nine-Nine-One-Two, Fifteenth El-De-Ay-Ar of Fox Company, I order you to open fire on these insurgents!" He spoke smoothly and with a damning smile, pointing at the brown-skinned desert dwellers under the mercy of these people. To Olga's arising anger, the Corporal reached into his hip and pulled out what is quite possibly one of the largest and boxiest pistols she had ever laid eyes upon.

A long and thick barrel sported a crown of spikes at its end, a gray metal box jutting downwards from the center of the body and with a strangely angled grip judging by how the Corporal held it in his hand, and three raised pieces of metal on top of the weapon presumably being the sights for it.

The large armored man aimed at the center of the crowd, making them scream in horror on what was to befall upon them. Olga bared her teeth at the large man, calling him out with many slurs and curses that she could think of.

"Troops present arms!" at the Lieutenant's orders, the other soldiers readied their strange looking rifles. "Fire on my command!" a tense silence befell upon the area.

"Fire!"

What happened next surprised her. In the mere span it took for anyone to blink an eye, the Corporal had moved his body with such speed and grace that would make even the most graceful of the Elven Species green with envy. Ten thunderous roars came from his large pistol (at this point, she could call it as it was: A handheld cannon), and ten of the soldiers aiming their bizarre rifles went down in heaps, screaming bloody murder as they clutched at the stumps of what used to be their right or left arms, making the cowering villagers scream and duck in an effort to make themselves seem smaller. An eleventh roar sounded off, followed by the Lieutenant's scream of agony.

Olga looked at the Corporal with wide eyes. The small cannon in his hand still had its barrel smoking from the amount of shots it had fired. The large man then proceeded to do a series of motions that involved removing the gray box and replacing it with a new one, finishing off with a pull of a strange device mounted at the rear of the weapon, as he walked up to the downed officer.

"You defective piece of shit!" the Lieutenant screamed in bloody murder, glaring at the man responsible of his current state. "YOU'RE DEAD MAN, TAGGERT! YOU HEAR ME?! A DEAD MAN!" the Corporal simply gave the Lieutenant a cold gaze before turning his attention to the cowering villagers. But before he could approach them, he and those around him heard rapidly approaching footsteps. Surrounding him were more soldiers, all aiming their strange rifles at him.

"Down on the ground!" one of the new soldiers ordered, rifle firmly aimed at the Corporal's center of mass. The large man simply stood there, unmoving and utterly silent.

"I say again! Down on the ground, Taggert!" the soldier repeated, aiming higher, Olga's eyes tracing its aim to that of the Corporal's head. The Corporal simply continuing being silent but this time he scanned his surroundings, his face covering visor reflecting everything in front of it, regarding the soldiers that surrounded him.

The Dark Elf could tell that the man was analyzing his situation. Just as he was about to make his move, a new voice called out to him. The voice sounded older and more… inhuman than the Lieutenant still lying on the ground in agony.

"Stand down, Corporal." Immediately, like clockwork, the soldiers quickly lowered their rifles and stood straight while the Corporal turned his head to face the newcomer. Olga did the same and saw another officer approaching them. This man looked different from the rest, his uniform a lighter shade of tan compared to the others and decorated with light armored plating in comparison to the moderate armored plating of most of the soldiers and the Corporal's own heavily armored body. The man's head and face bore no helmet, allowing her to see the physical age of the man and the maintained gray hair that framed his head. His eyes were the coldest of blue steel, piercing into all that lied in front of their gaze.

This officer calmly approached the large Corporal as some of the soldiers helped the downed soldiers and the Lieutenant, craning his neck upwards to make direct eye contact with the larger man. Olga can clearly see that his neck was encased by a metal collar of sorts. Lights would occasionally blink, signifying that this collar had another purpose aside from protection.

"I will not ask again, Corporal," the aged officer spoke once more, voice distorted and inhuman, as he approached the Corporal. The large man looked down upon the older officer for a few moments before placing his hand cannon back into its holster.

"Good man," the officer said before motioning to the other soldiers. "Take the civilians to their designated zone. And make it quick, al-Ramal has been rather… anxious lately," these soldiers complied and began to guide the frightened civilians out of the area. The Corporal watched as they went away.

"Now then," the officer spoke up, grabbing the attention of the Corporal and Olga, as he gestured to the larger man, "Follow me, Corporal. We've much to discuss regarding recent… endeavors." The large soldier nodded and began to follow the old officer.

Olga made to follow the two only to find that she is unable to. "What the?" she blinked, trying to move only to find herself running in place. As she looked around, the environment began to blur and fade away, signifying the end of this vision. Soon, Olga found herself in a pitch black void, with nothing around her for miles but specks of dust frozen mid-air.

"?̴s̵e̵y̴ ̷,̷e̴f̶i̵l̵ ̴s̷i̶h̴ ̵u̵oy̶ n̷w̵o̵hs̴ e̶v'I̴ ̶yh̴w̵ ̷g̵n̶i̶r̴e̶d̴n̵o̶w̶ ̷e̴r̴'u̷o̴y̷ ̴e̶r̷u̷s̴ ̴m'I̷,̵"̷ ("I'm sure you are wondering why I've shown you his life, yes?") a dark voice suddenly spoke beside her, causing the Dark Elf Queen to flinch and turn to face the other occupant of this voice. There was nothing around her. Steeling her nerve, Olga made a demand into the black abyss.

"Show yourself!" to her anger and shock, the mysterious voice gave a dark giggle at her.

"̵…̵y̴da̵l̶i̷M̵ ̴,̶od̴ ̷t̴'n̷o̴w̵ ̴ta̶h̵t̷ w̴o̴N̴,̴"̴ ("Now that won't do, Milady…") they spoke beside her once again, causing her to face in another direction only to be met with more darkness.

"̴.w̴on̵ ̴u̵o̶y̶ ̴o̵t̶ ̷f̶l̶e̶s̷y̴m̷ ̵d̴e̶woh̶s̴ ̶I̵ ̴fi̵ ̶eh̶c̶y̵s̶p̶ ̶ru̷o̴y̵ ̶mra̶h̵ ̴o̵t̴ ̷t̵n̶a̶w̵ ̶t̵'̵nd̴l̶u̶o̵w̶ ̴I̶,"̶ ("I wouldn't want to harm your psyche if I showed myself to you now.") The voice was condescending, mocking, and enlightening all at once.

"…̵l̴la̷ ̴r̶e̶tf̷A̷,̵"̶ ("After all…") now the voice was all around her. Suddenly, she felt something grab at her shoulder in a firm grip, causing her to freeze up in place.

"̵…̴n̵o̷os̶ o̴o̵t̷ ̶e̴s̶ir̷p̶rus̶ e̷h̴t̶ ̴l̵i̷op̶s̵ ̴o̴t̵ ̷e̶n̶o̶ t̷o̶n̴ ̷m̶'̵I̵,̶" ("I'm not one to spoil the surprise too soon…") though she couldn't see it, she could feel this creature smile upon her in malicious delight.

Olga Discordia suddenly as sent flying back at an alarming speed, the floating specks of dust becoming afterimages and painfully stretched out lines in her vision.

Then, like the abyss that surrounded her, her vision black out, her consciousness fleeting.

All the while, a dark god laughs in her head.

[Capital of Keine | Early Morning]

"So boss," Ken spoke to him out of the blue, "what do you reckon Lady Celestine will give us this time?" The mage asked, curiosity laced in his words. Vult gave the inquiry some thought, musing over many possibilities.

"I'm not sure," he spoke honestly to the young mage. "We've been doing rather well by the borders and by the outer villages. Makes me wonder why Lady Celestine brought some of us back."

"Perhaps to allow us rest?"

"We could've done that by the borders, yeah?" Vult shot back his reply. Ken shook his head.

The mage made his reply. "I've been reading-"

"Of course you were," Vult mock-retorted in jest, a smile on his face as he led his personal troops through the streets.

"-a few books regarding the mind and how battlefields affect them," Ken continued without pause as if his leader never interrupted him in the first place. "One topic that struck to me as intriguing is that, if without rest, a soldier constantly fighting would lose his other senses and could begin to attack his allies in response just to get his fix."

"Is that so?" the mercenary warlord raised an eyebrow at Ken's words. Now that he thought about it, some of the men currently with him were the ones that have been fighting for weeks without end. He supposes that there was merit within the mage's words.

"If that were the case, then shouldn't we redraw the rest back, too?" one mercenary listening in on the conversation decided to chip in.

"No, that would be foolish. Withdrawing all troops back to rest would make the Demon Legions strike everywhere all at once. I've read that only those that have been fighting the longest should be redrawn for others to take their place." The mage's words made sense. It wouldn't be smart to withdraw all of their troops; it would suffice that only those that have been fighting nonstop be withdrawn.

"Well, whatever the case," Vult said, eyeing the White Fortress in the distance, "we're here now and we best get this business over with, yeah?"

A series of "ayes" sounded off from his men. They passed through the streets, the people's moods brightening upon seeing the returning mercenaries. Sights such as that made Vult smile on the inside. This is what they're fighting for, to preserve their collective kingdoms' very heart and soul from the dark monsters of the north.

After a few minutes of roaming around the city, they finally reached the White Fortress. The large gates opened up for them the moment the men manning the mechanisms saw who were approaching them. By the entrance to the White Fortress, they can already see Lady Celestine waiting for them, accompanied by Claudia Levantine, Maia and an armored individual they did not recognize. Putting on his best smile, he strode forward and greeted the Goddess Reborn.

[-|-]

"Your Grace!" The man leading the group of mercenaries greeted the elf. He had been leaning on one of the doors as to bide his time, observing whatever he could see with his eyes. In all honesty he could've simply charged towards the Black Fortress by his own, slaughter whatever was inside, and drag Olga Discordia back here kicking and screaming. However, for the sake of keeping appearances under his orders, he will have to play nice.

The ones that stood out the most were three men. First was the leader who stood at around 6'6"/1.98m, a muscular build to go along with that height. He wore a simple dark gray tunic with brown pants and a dark brown cape was clasped on his broad shoulders. The only visible pieces of armor on his person were the metal gloves and left gauntlet along with his metal encased boots. A large sword was on his back, the blade clearly showing signs of age and conflict. The man's skin was a tanned brown, probably a sign of where he was born or of how often he fought under the blistering sun, with dark brown hair framing his head nicely. Even from here, the Slayer could see the man's crimson eyes shine with something. It was something he was familiar with too well.

Ambition, the man's eyes held great and terrible ambition. It reminded him too much of…

The Slayer stopped his thoughts there. The less he thought about that day, the better he can control himself.

Moving over to the second man, this one was the shortest of the three, standing in at 5'8"/1.72m. He was young and had pale skin, a sign of an introverted life or of a life that did not involve as much sunlight as others, with light brown hair in a finely trimmed manner and dark blue eyes framed by a pristine pair of glasses. He wore robes of blue that hid his build from the world although the Slayer can tell he was on the skinny side. In one hand, he held a tome, signifying that he was a mage.

He looked more a boy than a man with how he looked.

Curiosity twinkled in the boy's eyes and he appeared to be conversing with the third man regarding something.

The third man was lean, more muscle on him than the boy but less of that than the first man, standing in at 6'3"/1.9m. He wore an open green vest that hid nothing about his torso, showing a fit physique and some long healed battle scars of conflicts long won. Blue pants neatly framed his legs and two sheathes were strapped to each upper leg, their length indicating that they were short-swords or similar bladed instruments. His skin was plain much like the Caucasian males of Europe and America, with shaggy brown hair and light almond eyes to complete the look.

He had a cocky demeanor about him. Probably took pride in his battles.

"We are here as you have requested, Your Grace," the leader lowered himself to one knee, the rest of his men following suit in near perfect unison.

"Rise, Ser Vult," so this was the shmuck he's going to work with, eh? He looked adequate enough in medieval combat, he supposed. "You and your men have done well in repelling the Demon Armies of the North."

"We take pride in our work, Lady Celestine," Vult spoke, tone even to most although the Slayer can hear some joy in the man's tone.

"I am sure you are wondering as to why I called you and your personal band to the Fortress," Celestine said, knowing the thoughts on the minds of each mercenary with a quick glance over each of them. Gesturing to the insides of the Fortress, she continues. "Come, we can discuss more once we are inside."

The Slayer took that as his cue to get in. Without waiting for another word, the Marine walked past Claudia Levantine, who gave the large man a stern glare as he did, and into the large castle, and Maia, who simply greeted old comrades instead of reacting to the large man's sudden actions, heading towards the war room where he and the Black Dogs shall be briefed on the coming joint op.

In minutes, he had arrived ahead of everyone else and took his place leaning against one of the pillars of the war room. After waiting a while, the rest of them arrived. He could see that woman's eyes bore into him with another stern glare.

"Must you be rude to your allies, Ser Behemoth?" he shrugged at her rhetorical question and simply gave the others a look over to analyze them.

"Peace, Claudia," the elf said, placating her before taking her seat at the large table. Claudia, Maia and Vult followed as well as the boy and the other man. The rest simply chose to stand, their posture showcasing discipline. He internally grunted in approval, remembering old days. They were fragments now, but they still gave him enough to know of his own past.

"Let us begin," Celestine said, looking over the large map of Selenus as did Claudia and the others who were seated. The Marine simply chose to use the zoom function of his helmet to memorize the layout of the map, filing it away for future reference.

"Ser Vult, would you tell us of your progress regarding the borders?" the mercenary leader nodded and began to set a few pieces to symbolize his army and his enemies.

"We've been getting more and more raids with each passing day, Your Grace," he began, pointing to the areas to the northern edges of their borders. "Either they're getting desperate or something is making them throw themselves at our walls with reckless abandon. We lost some good men trying to push them back." He marked some areas with 'X' marks, showing where they had suffered losses.

"How many?" Claudia asked, slowly dreading whatever number cropped up. The mercenary leader exhaled a heavy breath before responding.

"Nearly a century each per location," he grimly stated. Counting the marks, he could see that they lost almost twenty centuries worth of troops, pretty much a fifth of a full legion. That's not a good sign, especially for any nation lacking much technological progress.

"Dammit," Maia cursed under her breath, no doubt angered at so many lives lost in a short span of time.

"They were supported by these… things," the lean man spoke up, his face donning a grim expression. "I dunno what those bastards were, but they threw some freaky fireballs at us."

"So? Many creatures with enough magic affinity can conjure up a basic fireball," Claudia said, unsure of how these ones were any different. "Many defenses can shrug off a volley of those, Ser Hicks."

"Not these ones, Lady Claudia," the boy mage spoke in defense of the lean man. "I've had the misfortune of feeling the heat of one closely flying past my face. It was as if a volcano had erupted near my face." That grabbed the Marine's attention, prompting him to speak up for the first time since the meeting had begun.

"What did they look like?" his rough, booming voice caught many off guard. The spectacled boy responded, not losing a beat. With a flurry of finger motions and using thickened puffs of smoke from the nearby lit candles, he made a roughly accurate appearance of the creatures he and the other man spoke of.

"It's not entirely accurate as we were in battle at the time but this should-" the boy was interrupted by the sound of wood breaking. Everyone turned their attention to the large man once more, noting that he had crushed a part of the war room's table with one hand.

"Holy shit, big guy!" Maia's eyes bugged out at the sight.

"Control yourself, Ser Behemoth!" Claudia commanded sternly.

At first, he thought it was pure coincidence, hearing the description of those fireballs. But, as he had learned over his long life and in his endless crusade against Hell, he damn well knew that so called coincidences are simply signs of something big happening.

The creature shown was, if standing completely upright and not on all fours as shown, 6 feet 6 inches/1.98 meters in height, featuring a lean build much like many athletic people. The creature was covered in naturally occurring armor, covering its entire body in segmented pieces. Each hand featured three clawed fingers and one clawed opposable thumb while each foot had two clawed toes and one large talon much like prehistoric Velociraptors would have on their feet. Its head was vaguely humanoid and avian in appearance, featuring two sets of eyes, one set larger than the other. Spikes were clear on this creature, to on each shoulder and one for each elbow and knee and its spine featured protruding studs.

No doubt about it, this was a fucking Imp.

"Do you recognize this creature, Ser Behemoth?" Celestine's words, laced with worry and fear, reached his ears, snapping him out of his rage for a moment. Looking at her and the other occupants, it was clear none had expected this reaction from him.

"Wait, this guy's the Behemoth?" the lean man from before asked, recognition slowly filling his expression. "I knew something was familiar about this guy!" he gave a toothy grin. The other mercenaries looked at one another in surprise. Vult regarded the Marine with a calculative eye, sizing him up most likely. The young mage looked at him with more curiosity than before, as if he wanted to study the Marine.

He paid them all no mind and responded, forcing himself to be calm for the time being.

"This is a demon, elf. One that's from Hell itself," his words were met with skeptical expressions.

"Hell? No offense buddy," the lean man started, a skeptical look on his face, "but that's a little crazy, don't you think?"

"You're fighting a bunch of overgrown mushrooms and you're telling me Hell isn't a possibility?" He asked as calmly as he could. He couldn't afford to let loose here lest he end up killing potential allies. The lean man, Hicks, raised his hands in a placating manner.

"Hey, I'm just saying that for those things to be here, there needs to be something done to get even one of them here, right? Something real nasty, right?" the Marine nodded at the man's words. Turning his attention back to the map, he began to look at various hotspots their enemy could use as summoning grounds. He needed to assess this first before he started jumping to conclusions.

"How many of these things were there in each skirmish?" he asked, his words directed at the spectacled mage. The young man cleared his throat before making to reply.

"Easily a score each, those things being accompanied by a few of these horrendous things," another flurry of fingers and more puffs of smoke formed another creature beside the Imp. Where the Imp was lean and lanky, this creature was stocky and muscular. Strong, ape-like arms and legs helped the creature stay balanced on its otherwise heavy body. Its head was large and horned with a mouth full of tusks and sharp teeth arranged in an animalistic frown, with two large eyes set in a harsh glare at whatever lied in front of it. A stubby tail lazily moved about behind it. The creature as hunched over and its spines also had protruding studs. Much like the Imp, segmented natural armor covered its entire body, although more armor was emphasized on the front of the creature.

A Bull Daemon, commonly known by UAC personnel and other factions fighting Hell as a 'Pinky' for how most of its species sported a rather vibrant pink coloration to their natural armor and for their thick skin underneath.

"Anything else?" the Marine asked, finding it hard to remain calm as he scanned the map, quickly eliminating sites that were too small to summon such numbers.

"None from what we could see although, knowing these fouls Orcs and their newfound friends, there's bound to be more hiding in wait." Oh how the mercenary leader was right in that regard.

"When and where did they first appear?" he asked once more and was answered.

"The damned beasts came knocking around a month ago. Thing is, these things were few at the time and we weren't too focused on them as the Orcs and other creatures occupied our thoughts and actions," he grunted but nodded regardless, turning his attention back to the map and trying to narrow it down even further. That meant that the closer to any Shield Alliance territories where most of the skirmishes occurred were eliminated from the equation.

"Was there anything out of the ordinary when you fought them? Specifically in the surrounding areas?" the mercenaries gathered in the room shook their heads. Just as he was about to ask another question, Vult spoke up once more.

"The air seemed deader near the Garran Badlands, if that's any help. It had the stench of rotting flesh, even if no battle took place there." The Marine nodded, looking at the Garran portion of the map and its surrounding areas.

"Did you send anyone to investigate?"

"Aye, a team just a week back. They searched as safely as they could without fighting and found nothing in the dead jungles or of the wastelands." That left one area, the Marine realized. Straightening himself, he turned to Celestine and Claudia, the two silent throughout the little exchange.

"This is a problem."

"What do you mean, Ser Behemoth?"

"In order to summon this many demons in a short period of time, one would need to assemble a large Gore Nest," he elaborated, earning disgusted looks from some and confused looks from the rest. Though unfamiliar with the term, the tone behind his words told them that it was something disgusting.

"How do you know this?" the accusatory tone in Claudia's voice wasn't missed by a long shot. The Marine simply gave her the answer.

"I've fought these things for a long, long time and this is one of many ways they invade." He explained before shifting his attention, and theirs, to the areas where the skirmishes happen. "This will seem like horseshit to you all, but what you all faced was merely a scouting force." That drew a reaction, a highly negative one.

"You're telling me that all those men and women that died, are from fucking scouts?!" one mercenary seethed, slamming a fist into a nearby wooden pillar, causing it to slightly cave in from the impact force. The rest of the mercenaries, save for the three seated, also reacted negatively to this news. It was clear that some of these men and women were close to some of those that had perished.

"Yeah," he responded in a calm tone, yet many could feel the grim lacing in his words. He was just as mad as them, perhaps more if his words were to be believed. Turning back to the map, he continued.

"If Vult's words are true, then that leaves open areas out of the equation," he points to one particular spot, getting their attention. "These things would need to build the nest underground, specifically in a structurally sound and secure position." They all looked and had varying degrees of dread.

The Nigrum Fortuna, also known in common tongue as the Black Fortress, capital of Garran and home to the very leader of their enemies, Olga Discordia, the Dark Elf Queen of the Jagged Crown. Celestine Lucullus, in particular, paled at the implications.

"No…" she breathed out in horror.

"Guess that means the other reason we're all here is out of the question, then," the Marine's voice grabbed their attention. Seeing the confusion in their faces, he explained further.

"I was brought here to capture Olga Discordia and, before all of this was dropped on our heads, I was to accompany you boys and girls into the Nigrum Fortuna." Turning his head to Celestine, Vult saw her nod in confirmation.

"So had these things not shown up, this could've ended the war within the month at most?" the Marine nodded to the mercenary leader. Vult cursed under his breath, the feeling mutual amongst his subordinates.

Why can't things ever be simple?

[The Black Fortress | Olga's Bedchambers]

The first thing Olga noted when she woke up was that the very atmosphere of her castle had become colder and more suffocating. Over the millennium that she had stayed within these walls, they had always been cold and suffocating but never to this extent. Getting up and out of her bed as quickly as she could, the queen quickly scanned her surroundings for whatever was the cause of this.

Her eyes saw nothing yet she kept her guard up. Not all threats are those you can see, after all. Focusing her mind, Olga quickly begins to scan everything within the room through the use of her magic.

There it was, somewhere through the walls. Getting dressed, she began to close in on the source, walking down the dimly lit halls of her castle. Once upon a time, these halls flourished with life, many Dark Elf citizens and servants alike roaming the massive halls. Now, only darkness surrounded her and the occasional Dark Elf soldier or Orc warrior greeted her eyes. The mysterious source of power moved and she changed course to further follow it.

She traveled through a multitude of halls, passing a few Dark Elves and some Orcs along the way, as she pursued this mysterious energy. Her little chase had led her through an old stairwell rarely used anymore, one that was rarely used for a good reason.

She still recognized the intricate metalwork frame of the aged, wooden doors leading to the stairwell. She remembers her mother, working with her circle of fellow sorcerers and sorceresses to create new things and discover sights never before seen to help Garran prosper over all of the nations in Selenus, all of those achieved within the very chambers this stairwell led to. Those were days she wishes to relive again, just once.

Where had things gone wrong?

Steeling herself, Olga opened the aged wooden doors hiding away the stairway leading down to the detestable chamber. She immediately noted that the many candles, long used and melted away, had been replaced by new ones, these candles glowing bright, malevolent green as opposed to the warm, inviting orange.

Someone has been using this chamber in recent memory and she had a damn good suspicion on who it was. Snarling, she glided down the stairwell, moving gracefully yet hauntingly like an angelic phantom. Once she reached the large doors sealing the chamber itself from the world, Olga used her magic to blow them wide open.

Where once it was a pristine and grand chamber were many practitioners of magic would collaborate to progress Garran into a powerful nation, now only a dark presence bathes the chamber, casting everything within the chamber in pitch darkness. Despite the lighting of the candles in the stairwell, she could not see what had been changed; even when her own natural elven eyesight, superior to human eyesight, being enhanced by passive wards were brought into the equation.

"BALTH'AZAR!" she roared into the darkness, magic flaring up in preparation for the imminent confrontation. "SHOW YOURSELF!" in response, the damnable thing laughed all around her.

"̶̛̼͉̕.̴͎͝.̶̙͛̾.̶̗̊́͜yd̶̺̮̏͠ä̵̢͈́l̷̢̙͘͝i̴̼̎ͅM̶̦̗̋͝,̵̰̾h̵̨̞́s̷͎͙̀̔i̵̤͈̒ẃ̴̦̠͚͒ù̷̧̢̓o̳ý̷̺͍̙̾̽s̷̮̿͠Å̵̢̲,̵̼̭̌͛"̴̣̝̈́̚ ("As you wish, Milady…") the Daemon replied in a mocking tone. Around her, arctic blizzards and infernal blazes erupted all around her, engulfing her in a twister of sorts. The veil of darkness lifted from her vision and Olga wished it hadn't.

Though the Daemon stood ahead of her, towering over her like always, the more horrific thing that caught her eyes was the changes to the chamber itself.

Where pristine brimstone walls, floors and obsidian pillars stood are walls, floors, and pillars made of flesh and metal. Where intricate golden metalwork decorated the chamber was dirtied bronze metalwork, these ones shaped in ways that spoke of demonic origin in contrast to the elven origin from before. Above her, a large bloodshot eye stared back at everything in the room, thick veins running across it like everything else in the chamber. In the recessed areas, dark blood flowed freely in them.

At the very heart of the chamber was something that made Olga vomit, spilling the contents of last night's meal onto the floor. Balth'Azar merely chuckled in response to her reaction.

It was massive, shaped like a heart and beating like one too, pumping entire rivers worth of blood into the chamber which was then absorbed by the flesh and metal or flowed into the recesses of the chamber. Seven glowing eyes dotted the heart like thing, each one glaring at everything around them. Above the infernal thing was a massive portal- no, she told herself, this was a tear between the material plane and the immaterial plane, easily engulfing the room in unholy light. From within the tear, sinister whispers sang in her ears and filled the chamber with their chatter.

It was like an altar, but corrupted and perverted beyond sanity.

"̴̢̍͐ͅ?̵̧̯̚ỹ̷̢̠d̵̮̊a̷͉͐l̶̯͇̋͘i̵͍͐M̷͔̋̕,̴̩́͝g̷̡̔n̷̨͝ik̴̤͂̏ĭ̷̤̜l̵̴̹̹͋̀r̴̼͠ú̶͉̟͂o̶̪͕͒͗y̶̷̻̬̞̜̏́̈o̷̯̫͊̃t̶̴͙͓̓͋̏͘͜t̵̥͔͌ĭ̵̲̠͔̍̿s̷̥͎̔͠I̵͖̩͛͘,"̶̵̡͚͇̆͂͑ ("Is it to your liking, Milady?") the Daemon asked mockingly as he circled around her, heavy footsteps sounding off from his large hooves.

She continued to dry-heave, horrified at what had become of the chamber. The Baron grunted before giving her a swift kick from behind, sending her flying into one of the many recesses in the chamber, drenching the Dark Queen of the Jagged Crown from head to toe in dark blood. That got a reaction from her, as she quickly surfaced and coughed out whatever blood had gotten inside her mouth, gagging and retching as she did. She struggled in the deep pool of blood, trying to get to dry land. Eventually, she did, emerging from the pool a blood-soaked mess, everywhere on her body stained deep crimson.

"What…" she breathed out, weakly looking up to glare at the Baron. "Wh… what… have you…" the Daemon chuckled in response, the noise coming off as deep and guttural rumbles in his throat.

"̴͔̗̃̃…̴̙̈́̈ͅm̷͓̀̽ṵ̟̃ḯ̴̡̿n̴̪͋̐ň̵̦̬̏e̷͇͈͘͝llì̵̘͂m̵͕̄̇t̶̞̾s̷̻̈́ä̴̱́p̴̗͈̣̌͘͠e̴͚̔̓h̶̺̃t̷̡̊ř̶͇͉̿o̴̫͊̇f̴̴̳̙̹̈̈́͘̚g̶̯̓̀n̴̝̤͂i̶̛̜̻od̯̆̀n̵̘͙͑è̶̫̞̉e̵̮͑b̵̴͉͉̗̾̎̓̔s̵̙͌̚y̶̘͍̐̑a̷̱͎͐̎w̶̡͎̓l̵͎̺͂ą̷̺̅̊e̵̛̦̙̐v̴̗̩̈́͐'̶̫̅Í̶̵̡̥͌͝tạ̶̻̽h̴͉̓͜w̵̵̳͚̩͗͊̓ẻ͖̀ṅ̷̮̞͛ö̷̧́͂ḓ̴̯̇ev̵̪͂'̷̞̦̐I̵̙͎̊̄,"̵̷͙̭̀͌͌͋ ("I've done what I've always been doing for the past millennium…") Balth'Azar said as if it explained everything. "̵̜̪͛͝!̵̀͗͜n̴͔̦͋͋í̴̺͌g̷͖͆e̷̖͈͐b̴̷̦͕̂̈̀Ỹ̷̧̕L̶͙͈̿͛U͇̘R̵̳̓T̴̷̘͇͓̏̈́̂otd̴͎̉ḙ̵̯̒eñ̶̶̦̠̒̑͑Į̴̷̟̯̍͐͘tah̴̥͋͜w̴̴̩͓̪̿̀̈́t̷̪͎͋l̵̠̕iŭ̶̝̠̊b̷̶̹̫̘̓̊ev'̴̘͌I̶̺̳̓̄,̷͍̰̐"̵̴̢̤͍͒͌̚ ("I've built what I need to TRULY begin!") he said, dramatically gesturing to everything in the chamber, the heart-like structure included.

"!̷̼̹͐͛ẉ̴͊o̶͔̐ǹ̷̢̮͋d̵͈͗n̵̲̻͝A̷̖̾̍,̵̰͝"̵̶̡̫̩͛͐͝ ("And now!")Balth'Azar continued, turning his attention away from her and towards the heart. "̷͖̆!s̴̱̆͝n̷̦͇͑ĩ̴̢̛̙g̴̰͆̚è̡̑b̠̞̌̇ḋ̵̮̬lr̵̰͌ȏ̵̺ẁ̷̛̳n̷͖̏̈́ig̵̯̔̄r̷̛̮̀ị̵̉̿v̵̵̱̖̓̓̍͜s̶̠̅̓i̶͖̳̍͂ht̴̤̀f̶̮̔̋ȯ̶̦̜̼t̵̯̜̉̕sȇ̵̩̓ű̶̖̬q̷̝͋n͓̝̋̽ọ̵̐̎c̴̣̫͌̈́y̵̙̌M̵̲̺̾͑,̵͔̘̎͝"̷̶͖̪͂̏͂ͅ ("My conquest of this virgin world begins!") The Baron of Hell began to speak in a tongue entirely unknown to her. It sounded ancient, it sounded wrong, each syllable making Olga wanting to curl up and die, like a pathetic little worm.

As he chanted, the tear got bigger and the whispers got louder, as many things began to claw their way through. The first creatures came by the score, ugly tall things easily as tall as a grown elven male. Spikes jutted from many parts of their body, particularly the shoulders and the elbows and knees. An avian-humanoid head with blood red eyes sat atop their necks, snarling at whatever was there around them.

Accompanying them were an equal amount of human males of varying skin colors, each having blood red eyes much like the creatures that came before them. In their hands were strange muskets much like the ones from her vision.

Following after them were large armored monstrosities colored in a rather absurd dark pink. The tusks on these creatures and their strong, clawed limbs were more than enough to dissuade any from openly mocking them.

But the one that stood out for her was the creature that appeared through the tear last. It was tall, nearly reaching eye-level to Balth'Azar himself, and was vaguely elf-like in shape. Its torso has no flesh, revealing an open ribcage and a thick spine. Long arms and legs, muscular yet bony and wreathed in fire, carried the creature in its strides which were graceful and with purpose, a jarring thing considering how horrendous the creature looked. Its hands and feet ended in three digits, the feet having some uniformity in that all three claws are aligned whereas the hands comprised of two long grasping claws and an opposable claw. Glowing red and blue veins ran through its hands, feet and even its cheeks were decorated by these veins. Two eyes, golden and glowing with infernal energy, stared deep into her very soul even as she turned away, their gaze piercing her mortal coil.

The creature approached Balth'Azar and soon the two Daemons were face to face with one another. The creature's mouth moved and it spoke.

"̴̠̘̈́̚.͔̈d̶͓͔͝ņ̶̺̔ȇ̴̙̣̔i̵̧͑͋rf̴̶̙̗͍̈́̔̋ḍ̶͂͝ͅlo̴̵̢̜̐̈́͜,̣̂ǧ̷̢̔͜n̟̭̋i̶̯̗̍̾d̷̟̾͠i̴̻̿h̴͎̤̀̓n̙̼̉eẻ̶̟b̴̶͕̩̬͛͂é̴͖v̶̖͐'̶̺͗̍uo̶̝̩̎͛y̶͇̠̮̲͊̉e̶̛͈̠ȑ̵̦̱ę̵̝̅͐h̦w̷̯̚s̷͉͐͠i̴̶̼̜̱̐̍̌̆s̷̩̍͊i̴̜͔̓͋ĥ̶̡̨t̵̷̝͚͌̄o̶̺̽̈́S,̵̪̘̒"̵͍̼͎̌̃̀ ("So this is where you've been hiding, old friend.") Olga swore there was a smile in the lipless mouth of the creature.

"̷̲̅.̷̺̬̀gn̵͐͜͝i̵̯͋͒ẖ̵̎t̷̰̤͗̚o̶̦͛̂ͅn̵̲̏d͍́͋e̶͊͜t̶͖̥͝c̶̭̻̾̊ȅ̵ͅp̵͉̲̑́s̶̮͗u̶̧̿́s̷̴̰͍̘̎͋̓͊y̵̨̩̽͒ë̴̗̘̎h̶̦̯́Ṱ̶̳̘̀̈̕͝.s̶͍̽ec̴̢͐̓n̴̘͗araȩ̶̒̋p̷̝͌̊p̷̥̽̓â̷̵͙̥͕͂̍͘p̶̢̊e̵͖͐ḙ̶̒͜k̶̷̲̲̱̯̊̑ot̴̴̡͙͖̊̀d̴̢̓â̷̰̣h̶͉̦̍e̷͇̕v'Ḭ̶̈́̍,̴̳̟͒͠"̵̢̳̋̎͜ ("I've had to keep appearances. They suspected nothing.") Balth'Azar said, looking towards the entrance to the stairwell.

"̷̧̘̈́͑?̷̦̘̀̓ṳ̋́ő̷͛͜y̴̵͎̫̞̯̒̃m̷̘̮̌͌ō̶̘͋rF̷̶̺̝̓̉͐?̶̛̤̗yr̶̟̆͊e͇͖kc̷͈̬̉î͙͔r̶̼̝͂̅T̷͕̉͠,̶̝̜̿͆"̶̵̲͇͎̎̀͆ ("Trickery? From you?") Olga could hear the creature laugh, sounding like church bells and growling combined. Balth'Azar placed a large hand on the shoulder of the creature.

"̴̥̍.ḙ̴̲̾l̶̠̊͋ȳ̴̱͔̃k̴̛̰̃e̶͔̋Z̶̰͆'̴̜̓å̶̦͓͝l̷̲̖̐Ä̶͚́͛ ̴͈̊̅,̴̪͝ǹ̵̟͖i̶̢̘͛̀ä͍g̵̡͠ͅa̷̞͇̔ ̷͓̯̑uò̷̩̪ŷ̴͉ ̵̘̿͝ė̶͉̩̓ę̶̮͒̿s̴̬̦̀̎ ̶̢͔̐̚o̴͍̎̈́ṱ̷͓͊ ̶͎̞̏d̷͚̣͑o̴̻̓͂ͅog ̴͇́s̶̖̒i̷̪͗͒ͅ ̵̛̟̤͝t̷̲͂̓I̴͖̦͒,̷͓͑"̷̣̉ ̴͇͑ ("It is good to see you again, Ala'Zekyle.") The creature, Ala'Zekyle, nodded to Balth'Azar before looking at Olga once again. She had been trying to crawl back to the entrance but the moment the new Daemon's eyes were upon her, she suddenly was petrified. She couldn't move, no matter what she tried.

"?̷̺̟̐r̶̹͗ͅe̷̘̾̾͜h̴̴̝̝̄̏͘f̶̯͕͠ö̷͔́͝t̴͓̒ả̵̤̹̈h̶͙̾W̷̨̓̂,̵̜͛͆"̴̶̙̫̯̘̅̚ ("What of her?") She heard it ask Balth'Azar, who snorted at the question.

"̵̥̱̃.̴̧̟͑̅y̶̨͠a̴̰̓̚w̳t̷̨̫̽á̴̦̹h̵̗́t̵̽͝ͅy̷̳̪͂ǧ̵̜̠̿r̴̯̓͑e̷̬̋n̴̗̊ȩ̴̵̺̟̀͛̚̚è̴̜rö̴͉́̈́m̴̴̧̞̹̾͌́͝s̵̖̀͜ĕ̷͇̀t̴̙̮̓͋a̵̮̳͂̀r̵̔͝ͅen̶͕̫͌eğ̷̷̢̱̉̿e̴̞̳̓h̫̝̆S̴̵͓͂̽͘͝ͅ.ȩ̵̺̇̚ṿ̶̥̕i̵̇͜l̷͖̾ã̷̵̢̮̿̅͠ͅr̶͙̦̆ḛ̷̩͗h̵͙̏̇d̳̳́̄ĕ̶̬͐ḛ̵̢̿nĕ̴̪w̷̷̡͎̦̋͑͋͊,̵̯̽t̶̛̥̙́í̶̴̬̤́̈̽y̦a̴̫̓̚s̶͎̳̙̉̍ǫ̶̬͆̅t̵̴͙̩̂̂ẽ͈͕ḿ̴̜͎̏s̵̳̜̆ni̷̼͔͂͊a̶̘͆p̴̶̨̤͈̜̓̽͒ṭ̶̛͌i̶̪̣͗̎ ̶̢̛̙ș̴̬̀a̶̷͍̹̬̽͆ẖ̴̛̇c̵̡̱̆u̷̙͇̅͝m̵̷̞͍̙͒͒s̴̢̮͐͌A̶̰̾̈́,̶̅͜͝"̵̷̟̰́͒̇͝ ("As much as it pains me to say it, we need her alive. She generates more energy that way.") Balth'Azar explained, making her eyes widen at the implication.

"̷̧̥͝?a̴̖̲͋̕n̵̻̾̕ol̴̻̀o̴͚̥̊͝d̴̻̚I̵̶̫̼͖͋͋s̷͚̓̕ų̴̾̐v̷̬̼̓͑ĭ̶̥̘ẗ̷̘̘́̾a̷̟̙̐͝Ņ̷̴͕̈̇̀̄ͅë̴̫̮́ht̶̷̯̩̋͂̉̂e̶̡̠̅͊k̶̦̚ì̴̱̎ĺ̴̷̻̯̳̑̈h̶̰̍͝c̶̩̯̎ǘ̵̡M̵̹͉̃̄,̞͓́"̴̴̫̪̿̂͜ ("Much like the Nativus Idolona?") A dark rumbling chuckle erupted from Balth'Azar's lips.

"̵̛͙͖͠…̷̪͋̍a̵̢͑̚n̴͉̊͆ȍ̴̢͎͝l̷̩̖̄o̷̹̹͌d̴̩̓Ì̴̵̲̘̫̈́́́s̵̨̘̒́u̵͓͊̊v̵̦̘̆ĭ̴̥͕̓t̷̰͈̕a̷̜̓N̷̵̲̭͙̺͗̑͗ė̷̝h̵̪͂̚t̷̲̚e̶̞͘ki̴̼͇͆l̵̴̪̲͇̎̽͗hc̵̽͂͜uḾ̶̡͔̲̀̀…ś̵͇̥̏ē̶͈̰Y̴̩͑̀,̴̨̯͗̊"̷̵͈̥̭͛̇̃̄ ("Yes… Much like the Nativus Idolona…") in one swift motion, Olga was suddenly lifted from the floor and was within the Daemon's grasp. This time, she could feel his infernal magicks marking her flesh, burning her yet keeping her alive. She couldn't scream, not while the other creature's eyes were upon her. Around her, the other demons snarled and hissed as Balth'Azar passed them by, heading towards the very heart of the chamber.

Balth'Azar slammed her into the heart-like altar in the center of the chamber. Immediately, sharp teeth stabbed into her body. Many sliced through her arms, legs, and back, drawing blood and magic from the open wounds. More teeth clamped down on her sides and her neck, piercing them and further causing agony to Olga. Tentacles, spawning from the sides of the thing, wrapped around limbs and her lower abdomen, the slimy appendages locking her into this demonic altar.

She panicked; none of her wards were working as they should. She gasped as something slithered into her exposed snatch, deflowering her and making its way into her womb. Her agape mouth was an opportunity for a tentacle to slide right in, suffocating her in the process. It traveled down her throat until it reached her heart where it coiled around in a vice-like grip.

The creature, Ala'Zekyle, approached her, hypnotic in their stride. Soon, they towered over her before bending over to whisper into her ear.

"̵͔̖͠…̵̡̎d̶͍̰͒ae̵̮͂h̴̺̀̔ả̴̴̫̯͕̚õ͕G̴̦̔̓,̷͉̅̃"̶̷̧͙̓̈̑ ("Go ahead…") they smiled at her. "̵̤̞͌̍.̴͙̅́t̶͕͍̐̍ņ̴͗ę̟̌t̶̟̏͊n̷̜̳͗o̶͓̭͘c̵̴̛̹͓̲̬̓̿̅ș̶̮͆'̶̬̓͠ẗ̷̮r̵̼̍͒ả̘͇͛e̦͕h̶̴̩͔͈̍̈́͘r̀ͅu̴̫̝̓o̷̲͒̕ẙ̵̳̣̭̌̕ot̵̷͚͈͇͛̌̓ḿ̶̬̋à̶͔̪͘er̵̗̦̀ć̵͕̪̓Ş̷̣͋,̴̲̯̉"̶̶̠̳̪̽̋͌͒ ("Scream to your heart's content.")

Despite the object blocking her throat, she did as the Daemon asked of her. She screamed.

But none outside could her hear. Balth'Azar roared in dark laughter at her misery.

It has begun.

A/N: Well… that took a rather dark turn, didn't it? I apologize for taking FAR TOO LONG when it came to writing this. A lot of things had been occurring and it was all too confusing. COVID-19 (Kung Flu 2: Errectric Boogaroo), the whole George Floyd thing (not even sure what to believe anymore), BLM and Antifa being crazier and rioting on the wrong people, and Ghislaine Maxwell (Epstein's bed buddy and next to be memed into "Didn't Kill Themselves" status and I think we all know why) being imprisoned and many other fucked up shit. I swear, you Americans have gone downhill in a relatively short span of time. Regardless, Happy 4th of July to all you wonderful and sane Americans, hopefully you guys can set your country straight.

But enough about that crazy real world problems, this is fiction, an escape from reality. So! Remember what I said that this'll be different from the first iteration of DOOM: Puer Infernalis? Here it is. That ending went from zero to one hundred rather quick. Also my first attempt at non-con, hopefully it'll be the last.

See you guys in the next chapter! Whenever I get around to writing, that is… Fucking procrastination, she's a harsh mistress. If the timestamps were any indication, I'll be at it for a year and most of the time spent 'writing' will just be me slacking off like a lazy bastard son of a whore.