Page 63 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

Walter remained silent, even stilling his curious eyes.

“I used his downfall to flee and closed the doors behind so none could follow.”

“What?” The shock on Walter’s face was breathtaking, like a literal weight lifted off my shoulders after centuries of lies atop lies, all to build a persona I never properly filled the shoes of.

“Since you’re already here, perhaps I should share the true story of Beelzebub.”

Beelzebub, my former god-king, captor, lord and savior, swelled in size, growing larger than I’d ever seen in the long eternity I had spent as his servant. Somewhere deep in the courtyard, my worthless, shackled body quivered in fear. Not fear Beelzebub would win or lose, but of the horrible punishments he’d dole out on a whim because my very presence annoyed him. My weakness. How I wished to savor his downfall again.

“Come, Wally.” I looped my arm around his, walking through the demon specters of my mind, each fascinating my little mage beyond belief. “Let us watch the demise of the worst devil who ever reigned.”

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21

Walter

Bez wasn’t Bez. Well, he was. But Bez wasn’t Beelzebub. He guided me through hordes of demons barreling toward the true devil. So much to wrap my mind around. Why’d he lie about being a devil? How’d he lie about being a devil? The devil towered high in the sky, greater in scale than most skyscrapers. It left me frightened and awestruck and so curious to unravel the many secret facets of Diabolics, from the devils who reigned to the demons who served.

Golden elkhorns sat atop the devil’s head like a crown. He had a sharp jaw lined with teeth protruding in every direction of his long, doglike snout. Four mighty muscled arms, casting magics and swatting away flying demons like gnats. Skin as black as shadows, lined with yellow glowing veins. He flapped his eight wings, each set different from the last. One pair angelic like Bez’s. Another set more like something you’d see on a dragonfly. They created a gust, scattering fire and ashes.

“Hell, really does look like the whole fire and brimstone they paint it as, doesn’t it?” I gulped, attempting to comprehend the various forms of hundreds of demons.

“Each Hell is what a devil desires it to be. This particular one was far worse than any mortal myths.”

I squinted, wishing I had my glasses on as many appeared as blotchy smudges running toward the devil, Beelzebub.

“It’s not your eyes lacking, Walter. This is a memory inside my head. Glasses not required.” Bez snickered. “You merely lack the inherent skill to fully absorb the glory of this dimension in all its vivid details.”

“Meaning?” I cringed as a demon darted through me like a phantom and jumped into the fray. It did little good. Beelzebub, the giant one, waved a hand and shattered dozens of demons into shards of black electrical glass.

“Like the Fae, our Diabolic realms are truly triumphant.”

“Cocky.”

“It’s true. Our realities aren’t restricted to trivial things like time, limited dimensional expression, five simple senses, or a multitude of other factors such as energy in constant flux, lost from one form and regained in a new. Honestly, I relish the simplicity of the mortal realm. Fewer concepts to maintain one’s station, though those rules on existence are quite burdensome.”

Demons skittered along Beelzebub’s body, gnawing and clawing at his flesh. Teeth tore off chunks. Talons shredded meat until it transformed into gray vapors. A repulsive sight, but I couldn’t look away. Demons swallowed the mist down their gullets, gulping as much as they could. Some exploded instantaneously. Others swelled in size, further tackling the giant devil.

“What’s happening? Are they killing the devil?”

“Devils don’t die.” Bez half-smiled, not the arrogant smirk he had most days. There was a sad joy in his expression. “They constantly recover. The monarchs and nobility formed a legion of followers to each consume enough of the devil’s essence to prevent Beelzebub’s restoration.”

“So they are killing him?”

“No. He’d live inside them. Like mages who perform a Diabolic bond, it’s possible for us to take from each other. If one demon devoured too much of Beelzebub’s form, he’d simply recover inside their body like a virus, consuming them entirely.”

Bez pointed to the demons still exploding, unleashing smoke which whipped through the battlefield, tearing apart demons before returning to the devil’s body.

“This is the power of a devil?” It left me awestruck. Such unfathomable power as he struck down thousands of demons. I’d believed Bez to be a devil, his strength an unmatched feat, yet he was merely a demon. The true strength of a devil could shatter our entire world in days.

“Devouring him in this manner allows the demons to divide Beelzebub’s consciousness thousands of times over, making it too difficult for him to control or consume those who have sought to overthrow him.”

“Couldn’t they trap him? Lock him away in some artifact?” The same way Magus Remington had trapped Bez.

“Everything in this realm exists because the devil allows it,” Bez explained. “If any of his remains are left unattended, even locked away, they’d simply reform elsewhere in the Hell realm, and he’d kill those who struck him down. No. The best plan was to share in consuming his being entirely, not that it did the hierarchy who’d struck together any good.”

“They failed?”

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