Name: Nil

Race: Demon

Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

Age: Immortal – 36years, 6months

Crystal Essence: [Blood Orange]- Lvl.10— 4320ESQ

[Available Essence Points— 0]

Strength: 59

Agility: 68

Wisdom: 66

Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification], [Faithless Thievery]

[Available Trait Points— 0]

Traits: [Titan Crust]- Lvl.2, [Thrall Maestro]- Lvl.2, [Psychic Barrier]- Lvl.2, [Somatic Manipulation]- Lvl.5, [Full Mimic]- Lvl.3, [Fiend Vision]- Lvl.2

Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend], [Aspect Thief] Aspects Harnessed: [Rock Prison], [Infernal Screech]

Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.3, [Greater Deception]- Lvl.1

Patron: Lumina au Hescaria

As the sun barely grazes the horizon, casting long, shadowy tendrils across the desolate landscape, the once-vibrant days in Kyis have grown shorter, surrendering to unforgiving, frigid nights that stretch for weeks on end. The skies above are seeping with the familiar dark tint of Reais, a jarring contrast to the rest of the world, or maybe not—the incursion could be further along, even outside the bounds of Kyis and the Heroes' barrier. Within Kyis, Reais continues to overwhelm and bite into Ire with each passing day, a fact proven by the rapid rate of Demon birth—I'd think it an unnatural pace if it weren't working to my benefit, but it is, and so all is as it should.

Since taking over the [Hezzura's] territories, skirmishes with other Demon factions has dwindled to a halt, a fact partly attributed to Brok and I being the only battle-ready Demons within our new, burgeoning faction. Out of the twenty-three newborns, only two have met the stringent criteria Brok demands to reach Crimson tier. The rest linger at Pink, waiting for an opportunity to prove themselves to either one of us for a chance at a fresh Crystal—a resource I've amassed in abundance, enough to birth an entirely new Blood Orange tier, if I were to focus on a single demon's growth.

Brok's ruthless tutelage and unyielding tactics have proven to be invaluable. He's no Gerim, but the two Crimsons he's nurtured are nothing short of magnificent. Their growing abilities and proficiency with their bone techniques are already promising, and already I can see the elite army of [Hezzura] deathly loyal to me forming.

It's also thanks to these loving, loyal newborn Crimsons that I've got a place of my own in our sandy territory—at their orders, the Humans and weaker Pink tiers unearthed the decaying husk of a building, tearing it apart from the inside. Humans plundered whatever remnants were left by its previous owners, even discarding the unfortunate corpses trapped within. The result: a grotesque giant throne, fashioned from a macabre fusion of bone and wood. The head of the throne extends far into the torn upper floors of the building, the cushion spreads just as wide, making it the right size for my new enlarged form to sit on—albeit a bit exaggerated.

Together, both the Humans and Demons presented the building to me like I hadn't watched them tear into it, and I was grateful—granting them my attention and Pink Crystals as I took my place on the rather-uncomfortable throne of bone.

The Humans, however, had other requests. Of course, these were all unvoiced. In their shoes, walking up to a Demon to request anything, even a grain of sand, would be courting death. Fortunately for them, I'm a pervasive psychic, and their minds are as brittle as they are filled with terror.

Doing my best to lounge on the throne, I have a bony little Pink tier summon Steven—the Human's unofficial representative and another important cog in my vision for Kyis under my rule. His abilities as an Enchanter make him a valuable asset for achieving and maintaining supremacy in the long run.

Steven struts in with the Pink tier nearly ripping at the seams of his dirty clothes. He falls to one knee once he reaches a sufficient distance from the throne, head bowed as he greets, "Lord Nil, I am present."

He's so small, I'm tempted to indulge and use him as a footstool.

The Pink tier runs up over to me, looking for a reward. With a thought, I banish it out of the throne room to Brok for training—its disappointment is felt but quickly overshadowed by the seeds of loyalty I've planted. It skips out without a sound, leaving Steven and I alone in the reaching throne room.

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Idly, I turn to the sky where there'd be a roof—the Demons saw no use for the other floors of the building, especially when it only served to hold mounds of sand. They destroyed it, and now what little light that reaches Reais beams down on my throne to illuminate me in the backdrop of bleached bone skewers holding up the traumatized building.

"I'll get right to it, Steven. You said the Humans need food and water, yes?"

He nods, "Yes, Lord."

"This used to be your city. It still is, isn't it? You can point me where I need to retrieve these things."

"I shall do my best, Lord."

"Stand," I tell him, and he does, raising his head high and straight. Standing at an average height, barefoot with ripped trousers and a rag for a shirt, Steven weathers a mess of brown hair and a growing bread lining the slight dip of his lips. Cocking my head to the side, I ask, "What else is on your mind?"

Sharp, black eyes dart away from my throne, and I smirk at his trembling. He counts his fingers and bites his lip before confessing his thoughts. "Brok made some provision for water with the well, but it got filthy during our imprisonment under him, and now it's bad enough that even my magic isn't enough to fully purify it."

Rubbing his belly, he continues, "Food has always been a problem. It's not like we could start any sort of subsistent farming here, not to mention how it's gotten colder these days and darker. We're exposed to the elements in tattered clothes and—"

"Enough, I've heard enough." I cut him off with a scowl, pressing a finger to my temple. "I can hear you thinking."

"Sorry." He watches his feet for a moment while I take in his words and thoughts on the issues with Humans. With a hitched breath, he dares to ask, "Lord Nil, I don't understand. What use are we to you? I waited to meet my end in the depthless jowls of the bone Demons, but… you've curtailed them and let us roam."

When he's finished with his outburst, a consternated look spreads over his face as the hair on his neck curl and shivers races through his spine. A slow, steady look over his shoulder elicits a whimper as he stumbles out to the side.

Skull subsumed in a cold lick of green flames, Brok casts a sideways glance at Steven, then falls on one knee, bowing his head as he greets, "Lord Nil."

"Brok," I say with a fair nod, acknowledging him.

He doesn't move, and still bowed he says in low growling, "I must agree with Steven, Lord Nil."

"Oh? I didn't call for you, Brok, nor did I ask your opinion on my private discussion," I say, getting less comfortable in the throne of bone.

Brok's fingers twitch, and he raises his flaming head to look up at me. "I've come to report progress. Another has proven himself ready for Crimson. It wasn't my intention to listen in, Lord Nil."

As Demons come, Brok is far more intelligent than the average. Perhaps his familiarity with [Telepathy] attributes to that, but whatever it is, he's Blood Orange and full of warrior blood, if our time together has taught me anything about him. I trivialized him when we fought, but it seems a brusied ego won't be enough to keep him in line, and neither will [Thrall Maestro]—maintaining control over a Blood Orange tier, even a low tier like Brok, would be immensely taxing, not to mention a waste of Essence and a detriment to the full extent of my abilities.

If I were Maroon tier or free of King's gift, then maybe.

While my tactical thoughts spiral, he rises, tying his arms behind his back as he speaks, throwing Steven another sideways glance. "Lord, forgive my limited intelligence, but wouldn't it serve us Demons better if we had the Humans as they were?"

Steven balls his hands into fists.

"And how were they?" I ask.

Brok holds his tongue for a moment, sensing the new tension in the air. "Caged for breeding, for our consumption. Your new Crimsons and even the Pinks would appreciate a Human as a reward for their endeavors."

At this I sneer. "What endeavors? They've only been born and fed to bursting."

Brok straightens and puffs his chest, a creep of audacity rearing its head as he booms, "That's another point I'm lost on, Lord Nil. Why harvest newborn Pinks for meager Crystals inst—"

Pressing my fingers together, the words die in his throat and the flame around his head dims significantly. I turn to Steven, barely breathing at Brok's side. "Eager as you are to feed your species to Brok here, that is not the vision I have for my Realm." To Brok I sneer, slowly releasing my vice grip on his ability to speak. "The Humans are here to stay. We will breed them, but not for consumption. We will continue harvesting the Pinks. Their Crystals will go to the strongest, the ones most desperate to survive and grow. Till there are enough Crimsons to fill the space before this throne, we will continue."

"Yes, Lord Nil," Steven and Brok say in unison.

"My vision for Kyis starts here, Brok. The Crimsons stay on defense only. Anyone moving without my orders should not return." He gives a sharp nod but doesn't say anything else. "Steven, it's only because I believe you'd work better without my direct control that you're still conscious. Now, where do we start making things better for the Humans?"

He gulps a bit and has to summon his voice to speak without it cracking. "T-the Gestalt Crystals might be our largest concern. That, as well as some finer enchanting equipment that would help my apprentices and I churn out more enchanted weapons for you. Most of these can be found in any old market in the northern districts though."

The northern districts. Parsing through his mind for context, I find that it's the same place I awoke after King laid waste to Kyis. It's as much the center of the city as it is the center of all the chaos that's unfolded. There are a variety of Demons occupying that space, but from my last scout to the city, I saw only one Demon faction eating up the available territory.

"As for clothes, food, and cleaner water… well, we can fix that with a hop over the boundary as well. A few Humans have already tried out of desperation, and a few have succeeded."

The boundary he speaks of is the one I've set the [Pavushka] and the Pinks to patrol. Across it are the [Myrmi], a species of Demon I've only observed superficially. Brok hungers for their Crystals, and between the two of us and the two Crimson [Hezzura], we could likely exterminate them. However, that line of thought doesn't factor in unknowns, like their Blood Oranges capabilities or how we'd control the territory once we've taken it. The last thing I want is to be overwhelmed by whatever the [Myrmi] have been fending off against, or worse, Jeriko.

"There's more, but the solutions stay the same. We have to venture out of our territory, scavenge what we find," Steven says in a hush, eyes darting over at the stock-still Brok.

I follow his glance and address Brok. "Hope you were listening to all that, Brok. That's what we're doing next, scouting and scavenging. Get yourself ready to move."

Brok smashes his fist against his chest and pronounces, "Yes, Lord Nil, I am prepared!"

Good. It's about time we had some alone time.

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