Demonic Devourer's Development

After the time he spent in the dreary place, God of Rogues concluded that the Hell, as awful as it was, was pretty ineffective in the task of grinding souls down until they would be ready for rebirth. The population of demons was the proof to that. It was also a proof of the stubbornness of living. Even in this land of nothing but torture, souls of humans and monsters alike grabbed the remnants of their selves with claws and teeth and whatever appendages they had.

All that made Devourer's feats of stubbornness seem less impressive than they appeared to be before. But it gave little of concrete information about this particular demon.

To his frustration, God of Rogues found that in the ever-shifting society of Hell, every non-relevant information was the first to be forgotten in an event of someone's untimely death. And there were many untimely deaths. The weak rabble of souls and fresh demons didn't know even the name God of Rogues told them.

The stronger ones—lords of demons, as they called themselves sometimes, if they remembered something of decorum—knew more, but even that were crumbles. Devourer was a powerful demon, he grew stronger from eating his enemies—this much God of Rogues already knew.

This entire excursion seemed more and more pointless with each week he spent in Hell. God of Rogues would've long returned to Heaven, but that would've made him a butt of more than a single joke from the few gods with the sense of humour… plus, Heaven was awfully boring, and the mortal realm… God of Rogues had adventured there, in disguise, plenty of time already.

Because of all that, God of Rogues found himself finding more of powerful demons, beating them into submission and then into silence. There was no need for him to hide, but hiding and lying was a second nature for him, and subtlety for God of Rogues was a habit.

Even when he met face to face with the new ruler of the Ninth Hell, instead of dazzling him with his divine nature, God of Rogues kept the unassuming appearance fit for any dead soul. Even as he asked his questions, God of Rogues kept his voice low, and his smirk cheeky.

Couldn't resist the latter, just couldn't. It was because of the demon's appearance. It was too amusing.

"Who do you think you are, gnat, to ask me questions?" The demon, fat like a pig and with a face of a pig, squealed and swung a sausage-like hand at the air. His other hand held a wicked-looking, but very impractical, spiked whip, with which he pointed at God of Rogues. "Beasties, tear him apart!"

"Beasties", the demon's pet monsters, each more intimidating and imposing than the previous one, all growled and jumped at God of Rogues at once. There was a good dozen of them. This was how their master conquered that place—by feeding them anyone who disagreed.

With the smirk widened to a grin, God of Rogues whipped a pair of daggers from the hidden pockets in his clothes and spun in place. His movements were so fast that only afterimages of them could be seen. He was like a whirlwind of blades, and each found its target with surgical precision.

None of the beasts got even close to reaching him. Each of them fell flat, not dead, but with their tendons severed. That was even worse, as they couldn't move and, being still alive, their souls were shackled to their wounded bodies. They could only whimper pathetically even when God of Rogues poked one with a tip of his boot.

"I'm someone stronger than you, pig. Tell me what you know about Devourer and I won't leave you in the same state as your pet monsters."

One thing any demon worth their salt had is a self-preservation instinct. The pig-faced demon shook with its all body, which sent a fascinating and disgusting ripple through the layers of fat, and bowed his head.

"I will, I will! Just spare me, master! Devourer, yes, I remember him. He ruled here for some while, less than three hundred days ago. He was so powerful that when the gods came to smack him down, he bit them back—a total legend!"

God of Rogues curled his upper lip in distaste. "Everyone knows that. Tell me something new. Devourer built his palace here, didn't he?"

"Yes." the pig-demon nodded, shaking his chins. "I even served him. I cut meats for him and roasted them nicely, and could take the nasty bits he rejected!"

"So… you were Devourer's cook?" God of Rogues raised his brows. "What did you learn about him at that time?"

"He likes them juicy, but not too fat… And to crunch on bones. I like to crunch on bones, too…" At God of Rogues' dark stare, the demon shrunk on itself and added, "Spare me, master! Devourer was no friend of mine. I was just his meat-cutter. No one was his friend. After he built his palace, he'd just sit there, eat his cut meats, and scare everyone away. So we went! He was the big guy, so I and my beasties had to listen."

God of Rogues sighed. Yeah, and this was his best lead. This was definitely a waste of time. 'Screw this investigation idiocy. I might as well go and sightsee,' he thought.

"Yeah, you'd have to eat some more if you want to be as big as Devourer was… though even then you will be only as wide as he was tall." God of Rogues muttered. "

There was nothing else to find here. God of Rogues left the same way he came—by distracting everyone's attention with a flourish of his cloak and using that moment to dash away from sight with blinding speed. For the eyes of the pig-demon, he vanished in the thin air.

In truth, God of Rogues walked by feet. Magic was not his forte, though he dabbled in it enough to teleport here and there when necessary. It just took time.

He thought about where to teleport next.