Demonic Submission Ch. 23byTheLastChaosLord©
Before we go too far into it, this chapter is the Clash between Odeon and Tristan. It is 30 some odd pages long, and most of it is the two of them duking it out. There is little to no erotica in this chapter so if that's what you're waiting for you'll have to wait until a future chapter.
I'm posting this just as my last chapter becomes available so hopefully the wait won't have to be too long.
I'd like to thank WanderingMindGames who has helped proof this as well as helped me with a bit of the phrasing in a few spots. She is a great help and I'm glad to have her as my beta reader.
Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. As always I'm open to suggestions and ideas. It might be awhile before the next chapter as I haven't even started writing it yet as I've been busy with other things... Plus ideas for other stories keep trying to invade my thoughts. No worries though, there will be more soon enough for this story.
"My People!" Vestiem's thundering voice bellowed out across the chamber in the minds of all those who were present. "We are here today to witness a tradition that has been passed down by our people for Millennium unnumbered! We are here to witness the Clash!" Vestiem roared out from high above from his hovering throne. His words incited a riot of response, as from every demonic mouth cheers and howls of approval echoed around in the massive chamber. "We all know what this is! A testament to our way of life! Where the strong rule, and the weak are culled! Where might is the only right, and points are made with swords and fangs!" Vestiem threw up his arms as he spoke, and his people flew to their feet, cheering with unnatural fury and an unquenchable thirst for impending violence. "It is here the mightiest prove themselves to all our people! It is here that warnings are issued to upstarts and usurpers, in the screams of those that would side with them! It is here that false rulers are deposed, and cut down like chaff before the scythe, unable to cling to their failing power! It is on this sand where Lords are born, and it is also here where they die."
Tristan was standing before his throne, waiting as Vestiem began the opening address to his people. The main chamber was dim, save for lights that were directed to Vestiem and the pit itself. Ultimately, Vestiem had taken advantage of the Clash that Tristan had demanded and turned it into a sort of spectacle. He took demons inherent need for violence, pain and death, and manipulated it in a way that was showy, and inherently awe inspiring. As much as Tristan recognized it as a ploy to play to the senses and simplistic desires of most demons, he had to admit it was difficult not to get caught up into himself. There were rumbling drums that thumped in the background, sounding to a beat that set the heart raging and excited the soul. The cheering crowds and endless applause egged the participants on, lashing at them to fight to their fullest, or face the ire of the entire population.
It was all so much to take in, and it was enough for most demons to be overloaded by it. Even Rena, whose loyalty to him was perhaps seconded only by Claude, was getting caught up in the excitement. She howled and brayed along with the crowd, roaring that her master would stand victorious and that Odeon would be a ruin by the end. Tristan smiled at that, knowing he would always have someone who would roar his praises.
Tristan glanced down to Celestine, who was a bit overwhelmed at the grand experience. Yet despite that she looked to him and nodded lightly. She had faith in him as well, which he could see was conflicted with other more rational thoughts. Thoughts that argued that she prefer he lose this contest, and die at the hands of Odeon. It pleased him to see she was pushing those things aside, and was on his side for this. Even though she would not be likely to admit it if asked about it.
Tristan finally turned to Claude, who bowed lightly and offered Tristan the warded box he had kept on his person over the course of the entire court. Tristan held out his hand over the wards and they unlocked themselves and opened the box with unseen hands. Inside was a handle of a sort, carved out of polished bone... Yet it was not that of a human, or of a beast. No... for those who knew, this was the bone of a demon, carved and cared for by its crafter in perfect detail. Its surface was covered in baroque, terrible runes. Symbols that would make a mortals mind spin just looking at them. The bottom of the handle bore a slightly curved point, where the top seemed to have an empty hole...void of anything, even a bottom.
Once in his hands, Tristan slipped the weapon into his robes and nodded to Claude who withdrew and stood along side Celestine with Rena. He looked to both of them, using the mark to give them their orders as words would be lost in the cacophony of noise. ("Protect her, from any and all threats.") His words had a simple calm to them, one that demanded absolute commitment. Both of them bowed deeply, accepting their orders without argument. He cast a single glance to Navira, who sat near with several of her more powerful demons. Her mortals were with Celestine as well, though one sat at Celestine's side and the other was on the opposite side of Tristan's throne. Despite their past misgivings, Tristan was pleased that Navira was supporting him in this. After a moment's consideration, he looked to Celestine and smiled confidently, again using the mark to speak to her. ("I'll be back soon...")
Celestine cocked her head and raised an eyebrow curiously. Eventually she replied. ("I know. But stop standing around, and go kill that bastard already. He's done too much to be forgiven or forgotten...") He could sense her wrath, as memories of what Odeon did to Rena came flooding back to her mind. Tristan simply nodded before looking to Vestiem, who was done with his introductions.
Vestiem seemed to sense Durial's readiness, and turned towards the Lord of Lust. "We begin with Durial, Demon Lord of Lust and Depravity. He has issued this challenge to his opponent, with the soul intention of warning any and all who would oppose him, and to punish him for an attack upon his servants and property. Let us hope he can deliver, as many would suspect that our resident incubus is more show than substance!" Vestiem declared, inciting laughter from some amongst the stands while others booed, apparently disliking Durial and hoping this would be his end. However, others cheered for him. Many of which were sworn nobles under him, but even those beyond his dominance cried out for his victory. Apparently Odeon had no shortage of demons who hated him.
Tristan unfurled his wings to their full reach before leaping forwards towards the pit, soaring over the heads of nobles and their vassals. His passing was like a great shadow, and more than a few demons reached up in hopes of just grazing him with their fingers. He flew low enough to allow it, and they cheered all the louder for it.
As he entered the pit, Tristan aimed for the center, landing in a flourish of his wings and skidding along the ruddy sand to stop at the heart of the pit. He looked about the massive chamber and saw that it was packed to the brim with demonic and mortal spectators. Almost every demon of the court had turned out for this... for the Clash... just as he had hoped.
As he landed he recalled Vestiem's words to him after his hallway encounter with Navira and Barathax. The Sovereign had told him that while he would not try and take Celestine for himself, he would not help Tristan in any way shape or form if it became common knowledge that she was Fell Born. If anything, the Sovereign seemed to promise that he would lead the charge against Tristan if it got out, all in order to ensure the safety of his people. As much as Tristan detested Vestiem for his actions, he knew the majority of the demons under Vestiem's rule almost went so far as to worship him as the greatest exemplar of sin. One that they would all model themselves after if they could, and flock to any banner he called them to.
It was strange though... almost like Vestiem had some ulterior goal to telling Tristan what he would do if Celestine's true heritage got out. It was almost like he was challenging Tristan to succeed in whatever his plans for Celestine were, and to do it quickly. The unfortunate thing was Tristan wasn't entirely sure what his plans for her were either... He had an end game in mind yes, but he didn't know if it would work, or if Celestine would end up destroying him first... Never mind the fact that he had no idea how long it would take to reach his planned results. But Tristan's thoughts were disturbed when Vestiem continued to speak.
"And now I present to you, the one who was challenged to this Clash by Durial." Vestiem's voice rang with anticipation and he turned towards one of the heavy iron and brass gates that lined the wall of the pit. It began to jerk open to reveal the looming darkness within. It was from that darkness that Odeon slithered forward, abhorrent in his true form. While he had obvious jaw in his true form, Tristan somehow felt the Demon of Envy was smiling madly at him. "Some may know him, others know his reputation! He has clawed and ripped his way up the ranks of our infernal hierarchy with astounding speed, feasting on the souls of any and all who have gotten in his way. I give you Odeon, scion of Envy!" Vestiem thundered out, accompanied by cheers and cries for Odeon to slay Durial.
"I am surprised Odeon, I would have thought you would have tried something before the appropriate time... It would be fitting for a wretch like you." Tristan taunted, loud enough for all to hear in the large chamber.
"And why would I do thatsh Durial? When I can instead make you scream in front of allsh thesh fine demonsh..." Odeon slurred occasionally, his features twitching, "Thensh everthing of yoursh will be mine!" Tristan frowned as he tried to understand the words, and as he did he noticed something very odd about Odeon... Every few moments Odeon's whole head would twitch away from something... like he was trying to get some buzzing out of his head or something like that. "I'll take your preshious mortal, and rape her to death in front of everyone!" Odeon snarled pointing to Celestine. "I'll eatsh her soul and let her die shcreaming..." Odeon threatened, slithering closer to Durial and towards the center of the pit.
For all his threats though, Celestine didn't seem concerned. She watched on, cool and focused. Yet despite outward appearances Tristan was certain she was anxious... Not because she was worried for Tristan, but because she wanted to see Odeon silenced...
Tristan looked again to Odeon and observed him more closely... Odeon was twitching badly for some reason. His bulky body, marred by swarms of tumors writhing just under his skin, seemed to be just barely holding itself together, like something wanted to get out. Green spittle leaked from his lamprey like mouth, and If Tristan wasn't wrong, his eyes glowed with an almost black haze hanging over Odeon's eyes.
His legs were a mass of tendrils and barbed tentacles, many of which seemed to bear sharp spurs that wept some sort of slime... his arms were split into thick ropes of flesh, each of which bore a long bone spear at its tip. From his malformed head a thicket of quills twitched and swayed with each of his motions, stretching down his hunching back.
Ultimately, Tristan realized something about Odeon... He had changed since their last meeting... His power was burning hotter than it should have been... His envy was nearly running out of control and it was twisting Odeon's already wretched body... Tristan didn't know if that would make him more of a threat or less of one. But something in the back of his head told him that he wasn't so lucky to assume that Odeon had weakened since their last encounter, even if his mind had slipped and madness began to claw at him...
To Tristan, there was no doubt that Odeon was loosing his grip on his already tenuous grip on his sanity. A curious bent hit Tristan then, and he smiled lightly before taunting Odeon. "Everything of mine would become yours? How laughable. You are too weak to even handle a fraction of my assets... Even if, by some madness you beat me, other demons will start pecking at you and taking everything away from you, bit by bit. You will end up just like you are now wretch... alone, and with nothing to call your own."
At first Odeon didn't even seem to hear Tristan's words, but instead seemed to freeze. Everyone in the chamber seemed to go quiet as they waited for Odeon's response, but they were slightly surprised by what happened. Odeon began to shamble forwards, wheezing and puffing. He didn't seem bent on attacking but instead locked Tristan in an angry stare, full of hate and spite. "Mine..." He hissed angrily, leaning close and glaring at Tristan. "It will all be mine!" he repeated, as if saying it would somehow make it true.
Tristan watched as more chunks of Odeon's sanity flecked away. Apparently the thought of someone taking whatever he might earn never dawned on him, and he apparently didn't like the notion one bit... "Really?" Tristan asked, clearly mocking Odeon. "And how do you plan to stop them? You have no real power." Tristan declared, loud enough for all in the chamber to hear. It was built as a natural amphitheater, so he didn't have to speak up too loudly.
"Power?" Odeon sneered. "I have more then enough power! I cannot be injured! You can't hurt me! No one can hurt me!" Odeon snapped at Tristan, confidence in himself seeming to solidify his speech for a moment, though only with an obvious effort.
"Is that so?" Tristan asked, knowing what would come next.
"Yes!" he snarled in Tristan's face. However, just as he was about to speak, it looked like Odeon was suddenly distracted by something. Tristan watched as he began to hiss at invisible voices, whispering to Odeon. "Shut up! I know... I KNOW!" He howled, one arm swinging wildly at things that were not there. But whatever was plaguing him seemed to be pushed away a moment later as he whirled back to Durial. "I'll prove it! Attack me!" He dared Tristan, much to the delight of the crowd. They were becoming bored with the exchange between the two... they wanted violence.
"Are you sure?" Tristan asked curiously. "It might hurt a lot if I do that." He suggested, his voice condescending.
Odeon let out a wordless howl before speaking again. "HIT ME! Do it! Hit m-UNG!" The blow sounded like the cracking of an ice sheet, and echoed throughout the room. Odeon went barreling back, ass over teakettle, throwing up sand as he rolled and a half dozen of his teeth went soaring further and scattered across the ground... Tristan stood, fist still extended from the bone jarring blow. After an instant the crowd roared its approval, And Odeon was scrambling to get up.
But the crowd quieted again, as Odeon twisted around and snarled at Tristan, his jaw already healing, with new teeth filling in. "So Lord of Lust, did you break your hand?!" Odeon began to snicker, as he began to approach Tristan once again. "Did your dainty hand get all smashed up?!" Odeon sneered at Tristan who withdrew his hand and looked at it. However Odeon was perplexed when he noticed that Durial's face showed no pain at all...
"Broken?" Tristan asked aloud. "Hardly... Here... see for yourself." Tristan held up his hand for Odeon to look at for himself when he was closer.
Odeon frowned, all his eyes focusing on the offending hand. He saw a small amount of bruising on Durial's knuckles, but nothing more. "Wh-MNFF!" Again, the sound of breaking ice filled the room and Odeon went skidding away, hurled back by the blow Tristan delivered with his opposite hand. This time however Odeon managed to roll with the blow and get back up quicker. "Wretch!" he screamed at Tristan, even as his body healed completely with frightening speed. "I'll killsh you! I'll drag your insidesh out and dance in your fucking ShKIN!" The slur was returning as Odeon's grip on himself began to slip again.
However as he howled and brayed at Tristan, Tristan saw the movement under Odeon's skin accelerate, like he was barley keeping it in. As much as Tristan wanted to drag this out, a part of him worried that if he did so, he would let whatever transformation was happening with Odeon complete itself. If that happened, Odeon might become even stronger. The logical and practical thing to do would be to end this right now. Pull out the demonic artifact he carried or force one of the more powerful destructive spells he bore and just end this right off the bat...
"Nah..." Tristan said to himself, grinning. "What fun would that be?" Tristan's grin turned into a cruel smile as Odeon hurled himself at Tristan, tendrils covered in bone spurs and tipped with three feet long spikes darted out at Tristan. It seemed that Odeon was done talking, and was going on the offensive. However, unlike most in this situation, Tristan didn't pull away; instead he stayed within Odeon's reach to dodge the blows with supernatural agility and terrible grace. But Odeon's attacks seemed to be legion, and for every half dozen blows that Tristan had to dodge, there would be one he couldn't dodge. He was still able to block them; using the armor he wore to deflect the worst of the damage. Still, Odeon was becoming more and more frustrated as Tristan seemed to dance around his attacks. His breathing became a sick mix of wheezing and hacking out phlegm and bile. Yet for all the disgusting sounds he created that would suggest he was weakening, Odeon was still pressing his attack. If anything, the attacks were accelerating. At first Tristan didn't understand why, but after a moment or two more he realized that more tendrils and grisly appendages were ripping their way free from Odeon's body, adding to the withering barrage. "Well, that could be problematic." Tristan grumbled to himself. He still didn't fall back, as if the increased challenge was something he wanted.
Frustration and impatience was getting the best of Odeon however, and he howled madly at Durial, rearing back to lash out with a dozen of his weapons all at once. However even before he could hurl the devastating blow at Durial, he felt his chest compacting from a blow that snuck through his attacks. Odeon's mouth was suddenly full of blood as bones broke and pierced his lungs. In an instant the injuries were already regenerating, and he could see that Durial had let several of his attacks graze him in order to make his own attack. But Odeon didn't have time to be thankful of the damage he had done to Durial, even if it was only superficial. Durial was, despite all reason, going on the offensive, and lashed out again with his clenched fists.
The second blow caught Odeon at the shoulder mashing muscle and making every tendril that burst from there suddenly go horribly numb. The third strike caught Odeon just above the hip near where his demonic equivalent of a kidney was. A half second after the strike had landed, he was certain the blow had detonated the kidney and white hot pain laced up his sides for a moment. More and more blows came, and every strike was powerful enough to shatter bone and pulverize organs and flesh. Odeon, and almost every other demon in the court was astounded that this demon of lust had such physical power, apparently shattering the idea that lust demons were usually physically weak...
Yet Odeon wasn't out of it by any means... Even as Durial's blows fell over and over, he knew that he was taking a toll on the Lord of Lust. It started out as a single drop of blood, slipping from broken skin along his knuckles, but each strike only exhibited the wounds he was receiving from Odeon's cursed flesh. Still, injuries or not, Durial wasn't slowing down, and after a stunning jab, he crouched low and then popped up, using every muscle in his body to land a devastating upper cut to Odeon's head that sounded like a cannon being shot. The blow landed with enough force that fully half of Odeon's face and jaw exploded away in a fountain of gore, and the rest of his head snapped back with enough force that Durial could hear Odeon's spine snapping.