Chapter 2: Descending Into A Hellhole

Chapter 2: Descending Down The Hellhole
I
As a newly reincarnated demon, Dante adjusted to a couple of things. First, his pointed demonic ears were shaped differently than his rounded human ears. Second of all, his teeth were pointier, which were more squared as a human. Though the greatest adjustment he needed, despite wielding magical reservoirs to draw upon to slay demons or whatever he forced his will upon, Dante still needed to suppress his mana so the Overlord’s gaze wouldn’t cast upon him. Melusina explained everything he pretty much needed to know, like the mechanics of the Netherworld, demons, angels, and other things he might encounter in the Spirit Realm. He was grateful for her help, though he wondered if it was after much reflection in his afterlife and the misdeeds he’d done in his previous life that made him reflect on becoming something more. Someone more worthy of being a Champion of a Goddess. A hero.

It sounded odd for a demon to be a Hero. That was only reserved for Grecian heroes or mythological figures of Campbell lore and prestige, who combated against great evils rather than embodying the darkness of evil in their own souls. Melusina was kind enough to give him dual pistols which would protect him from monsters or unsavory demons who would mug him or even steal his title (Hero). Something came to Dante’s mind about the matter. If they stole his title, would that demon become a hero and part of Melusina’s blessings instead? He assumed everything was a game to Melusina, being an entity of great power and renown. Though she did not flaunt her power, Dante knew fucking with the goddess would’ve involved catastrophic consequences than karmic debts that would gut him so hard in the solar plexus that his past reincarnations can probably feel it several generations over. The pistols weighed heavy in his hands, though Dante gripped them tighter to convince himself he was worthy. If he shunned such a gift, it was not humility, but spurning the Goddess’s judgment of him.

Dante shivered. A flicker of mana seared out of his body, though he smoothed over his mind and meditated, imagining the drips of water in his life force pooling into a giant mass of water in gigantic fountain. He needed to go. He thanked Melusina, who gave him a mysterious smile before he descended down the stained glass window steps spiraling further into darkness. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, much sharper than a human, and he could make out the limestone walls of an ancient cave of the Netherworld leading him to an entrance somewhere. Dante sidled against a ledge, keeping his balance and trying not to slip and stumble from the narrow precipice that probably led to the abyssal hell where the Devil himself reigned along with whatever Cyclopean horrors emerged in the depths.

Once he made his way to an entryway imprinted with ancient runes spoken in an ancient daemonic language forgotten to the sands of time. Dante squinted, running his hand across the glowing glyphs. Was it comparable to any language he knew as his time as an assassin? As an assassin, they trained him to go from country to country, speaking several tongues to lull and seduce and eventually kill, if he needed to. Though most importantly, the tongues he didn’t speak was the chanting of demons or angels. Did a language barrier exist or did Melusina already cover for him.

Dante craved a drink. In his previous life, he had been a nineteen year old man, though in his demonic form, he still maintained his age and physique, though something about him seemed…different. He couldn’t quite name it. His blue eyes turned into a crimson blood shade as a demon, something that he believed Melusina called ‘The Evil Eye’. What that did, he didn’t know. He still kept his original name, Dante Villiers, though something about his old name and identity merging with the Hero title seemed grotesquely ironic. Though honestly, Dante didn’t have much to laugh about in his previous life, so maybe this utter twist in irony was a knife in the gut that was twisted for extra measure made him sober up. He could not fail this. It was a dangerous mission he was embarking on—more dangerous than any other assignment he could’ve possibly had as an assassin in his previous life. If he failed…then maybe his second life for redemption would mean nothing at all.

When thinking about Kahlan, he wondered what kind of angel she would be. Was she as emotionless as the angel race were claimed to be? Was she a righteous crusader? Or was she a pure and holy relic, the embodiment of perfection? Divine angel or not, Dante had no right to sully someone such as she. Though the fact that Melusina seemed dead-set on Dante meeting Kahlan was interesting. Why did Kahlan descend into the Netherworld? Was it more than what met the eye here? He didn’t think Kahlan would’ve been the only particular angel who would’ve been the emissary between angels and demons, though in all honesty, the politics between angels and demons was lost on Dante. He was never particularly religious in his past life, and he didn’t want to pray to Melusina, God, or anyone. Though he mostly formed a relationship with Melusina out of mutual benefit, or so it appeared. Dante’s skills were in killing—and he was damn good at it, too. Though being a hero…it seemed an interest choice for redemption. Surely there were better candidates for being a Hero, though?

Melusina probably could’ve ended his life at any time. Could’ve sent him to Hell or to a punishment of never-ending torment, just because. The fact that she saw potential in him, to become something more than what the horrendously unlucky draw of the cards he had in his previous life, caused a glimmer of hope strum his heart strings. He thought his emotions had been dead and gone all this time—lost and buried like his body in the desert—though Dante found emotions stirred through him, in the hollows of his heart, that he even had a heart. He hoped the children he saved were unharmed, that they lived on, even though there wasn’t much chance for a good life where they all came from. But saving those children taught him the value of life, and that he wasn’t the judge, jury, and executioner of someone’s existence because he wielded a gun in his hand. This time, he wielded a gun for a more noble purpose—to take down bigger monsters than he.

Dante would’ve laughed. Him? Become a hero? What kind of twist of irony or of fate was that? But the more that he thought about it, the more that he tangled it over in the mechanisms and clockwork gadgets of his mind, the more it made sense. There is no evil or sin, there is only rehabilitation. Of course, demons and angels exist, but the way that Dante viewed it, it was all about perspective. The Gods and angels thought to one day raise everyone to Heaven one day.

He went through the glowing glyph enhanced portal and spiraled through the cave and into a passageway where he could hear the whisper of voices murmuring above him and the fumble of footsteps on wooden floors. Peering through a crevasse in the floorboards, Dante listened in on a conversation and tried to get as much information as he could before proceeding forth.

“About Lord Vassago…” a voice murmured in the darkness, causing Dante to shrink back instinctively. “He’s been working with that Goddess Melusina.”

“I’ve heard,” Another voice said, seeming amused and rich and velvety. “He is becoming a Rising Influence in the Netherworld and could potentially become an Overlord. He refuses the title. But honestly, if he wanted to, he could become one.”

“Though you’re objecting to him taking that position?” the other voice said.

“Not necessarily,” the other voice said silkily. “Having the title opens you up to power and prestige, yes, though it also is an open invitation for other demons or whatever creature that dares cross your path to fight you for the title.”

“So you’re thinking of making him Overlord?” the other voice said.

“It might take some pulling strings and rearranging some pieces into place, though yes, indeed,” the silken voice said. “Vassago should become Overlord, to bring rise of hope to the people’s hearts…and then such an unfortunate incident will occur, proving that his ideals of rehabilitation and peace do not work. Might makes right after all, and those who are the strongest will prevail in the end. Because that’s what this world is all about, you see. Power.”

“I don’t think that Vassago Fortunato will be taken down so easily,” the other voice said uneasily. “Besides, there’s that incident that Heaven is missing an angel of theirs that has descended into the Netherworld.”

“Yes, that is a nuisance…” the voice said. “Quite a coincidence, if I do say so myself.”

“An influx of souls have also been flowing into Hell,” the other voice reported. “We’ve had a problem with these influxes of new souls just being of lower quality than the previous ones as well. There might be ones with potential that are scouted to become Demon Lords, though in all honesty, the demon’s souls have been deteriorating and we’re wondering what we should do about that.”

“It’s all very simple, actually,” the silky voice said. “Go ahead with my plan. Ensue a little chaos. Then…when Vassago Fortunato is down, we will instill a new world order in this Netherworld and we will bring the reign of demons to their former glory again.”

Dante listened, before the sound of a glass rang in the still air, then something being shaken and stirred within the concoction. Poison.

“Make sure that Vassago drinks this,” the silken voice said. “It is a powerful poison that would kill him, if not cripple him at the very least. It would cause neuron-degeneration illness that would make him forget all the Spellwork and Magery that he has stored in his brain, and he wouldn’t be of much use to the Academics of the Clocktower or be in position as Overlord of this Netherworld, right?”

“R-Right,” the other voice said.

More traces of murmurs through the woodwork, before the footsteps disappeared. Dante sneaked into another entryway into the room and hid someplace where he could warn Vassago about the poisoned drink. He hid in a wardrobe that could hide his gangly form, and then waited, peering through a crack of the wardrobe to the table where the drink was set out. He didn’t catch sight of the men who were talking, though he could at least warn Vassago what was happening before something terrible took place.

A white-haired male with violet eyes entered into the room. His eyes lingered on the wardrobe for a moment, before his eyes turned toward the drink that was awaiting for him. He picked up the glass, swirling it slightly, though his lips did not touch it at first. Dante found this the opportune time to jump out of the wardrobe, knocking the glass out of Vassago’s hand and causing him to drop it on the floor, causing the contents to shatter and spill on the ground.

“Saints and Sinners,” Vassago said. “What were you doing in the wardrobe? Are you an assassin sent after me?”

“No,” Dante said. “In fact, I just saved your life.”

Vassago took a measured look at Dante for a moment, before glancing at the contents on the floor, before turning to look at Dante again. “If that was in fact, poison, then I thank you and owe you a great favor. Did you catch the names of those who left the drink behind and prepared it for me?”

“One of them sounded really important,” Dante said. “I don’t know their names, but one sounded like a serving boy and the other was a man higher in status. He said something about you becoming Overlord, then having this unfortunate incident occur to prove that rehabilitation does not work and that the old notions of might makes right is the true ruling principle in the Netherworld.”

Vassago looked toward Dante thoughtfully, before he said, “And? What do you personally feel of this? What is your name, young one?”

Dante bowed his head. “A Goddess told me that you would be a great ally and a terrifying enemy. My name is Dante.”

“Would this be the Goddess Melusina, by any chance?” Vassago said.

Dante looked up. “You know her?”

“She’s a Goddess that we Fortunato have formed a contract with,” Vassago said. “Though first, tell me about yourself. Why did you make your way to the Netherworld?”

“I was a sinner in my past life,” Dante said. “And I was rightfully sent to hell, with a chance for rehabilitation.”

Vassago stroked his smooth-shaven chin softly. “I see.”

“You believe me? Just like that?” Dante said disbelievingly.

“Honestly,” Vassago said. “I could’ve mistook you for an assassin hiding in the wardrobe waiting to shoot me. I’m used to that sort of thing by now, having all kinds of demons coming after my position and title, which isn’t so unusual.”

“So what makes you think I’m telling the truth?” Dante said.

“Because Melusina doesn’t send people to me without their merits,” Vassago said. “Besides, even if you were my enemy, sometimes your enemies are more honest than friends or family will ever be. As strangers made acquaintances, I will tell you this—be careful in the Netherworld. There are plenty of demons in the Netherworld who would rob you for so much as a crumb of food.”

“I figured that,” Dante murmured.

“So,” Vassago said, giving a warmer smile toward Dante now even though Dante felt he didn’t merit it. Despite having done one good deed, it still didn’t negate the long list of sins that Dante did back in his old world as an assassin. “What do you plan to do in the Netherworld as a newly born demon, Sir Dante?”

“I was supposed to make contact with you first,” Dante said. “Then I think I’m supposed to find this angel from heaven named Kahlan. Oh, and I’m also supposed to play the role of a Hero underneath Goddess Melusina as her Champion or something like that.”

“It’s a very fine and prestigious title that Melusina blessed upon you,” Vassago said solemnly. “Just as I was blessed Grand Magus as my title. I could also wield the Overlord title, which is the supreme title of demons in each Netherworld, though I decided to turn the position down.”

“Why’d you turn it down?” Dante asked curiously.

Vassago had a small smile on his face as he said. “Family.”

Dante remained silent for a moment, before he said. “Not trying to be offensive but…do demons bond with families like humans do?”

“I should say that we’re more similar than you think, Sir Dante,” Vassago said politely, apparently not offended at all, though Dante felt a little bad he had to ask that question and hear such a reasonable and calm response in return like it was normal. It seemed his perception of demons as a human have been mistaken all this time.

“I see,” Dante murmured softly, before Vassago ushered him back into the wardrobe again. “They’re coming back. And once again, I thank you. You have my protection.”

Once Dante disappeared into the closet and Vassago started clearing up the mess on the floor, Dante saw a white haired male with pale skin and lithe shoulders walk into the room, along with the apparent serving boy, who was a green haired young youth with chin cropped hair. The white haired male had perpetually closed eyes, though whether it was extrasensory perception or something, he seemed to note that Vassago was cleaning up the poisoned drink on the floor and his expression turned into the barest traces of a snarl before smoothing over into a blank mask.

“Good afternoon to you, Lukipela,” Vassago said pleasantly. “I’m sorry, it appears I’ve made quite a mess. I will serve myself another drink from the stores.”

Lukipela smiled, though it looked more half frozen snarl than a true snarl. “I see. You’re…”

“Still alive?” Vassago said. “Very much so.”

Lukipela shook his head, before saying, “No. You’re going to take position of Overlord, I assume?”

“I already declined,” Vassago said politely, and Dante had to marvel at how Vassago treated even his villains and enemies so politely. “Though Lukipela…I must confess. There is something that I’ve been willing to talk over with you. A toast.”

“A toast?” Lukipela said, the silken voice momentarily turning harsh, but then getting smooth as silk again.

“Yes,” Vassago said, as he took out a bottle from his personal stock and took out three glasses, one for himself, and tow for Lukipela and the serving boy. “A toast. You just tried to poison me, did you not?”

“I wouldn’t,” Lukipela said, clearly having the sweats.

“It can’t be helped,” Vassago said while shaking his head, before he began pouring a drink in all their glasses. The wine swirled in the wine glasses, sloshing, before Vassago took out a syringe of a strange colorful liquid from his sleeve and started to squirt it in all three glasses. “Well? Drink up. That serum I added was for longevity. May you have many sons and daughters of great beauty, Lukipela.”

Lukipela clasped his hands into tight fists, gritting his teeth but saying nothing. Dante knew that Lukipela was in a tight position here—refuse a drink with the Grand Magus, and apparently he would insult a man of great stature and of importance in demon society. The white haired male looked to his green haired steward, who looked panicked and sweaty, who apparently wasn’t brave enough to try the first sip.

Vassago smiled.

Lukipela sweated.

His hand reached out and clasped the stem.

He drank.

Before he coughed it up, retching.

“Did you poison me, you bastard?” Lukipela said.

Vassago took a sip of his own wine glass, downing it all, before saying, “It’s a magic formula with an astringent taste, but it is as I said. It’s a serum for longevity. The fact that you spurned a drink from the Grand Magus means that you’ve done me a great insult…”

Lukipela knelt down on the floor, shaking and holding a hand in his long white locks, hyperventilating as Vassago leaned in close and whispered. “Lukipela. You just confirmed to me that you were trying to poison me. That is something that cannot be overlooked. Regardless, you’re lucky that I believe in rehabilitation rather than the death penalty.”

Lukipela still shook, saying nothing.

Yet Vassago continued on.

“Still…you must be punished accordingly. I hate to do this, as one brother to another, but…you must start over in Hades doing the grunt work of low labor demons, scrubbing the toilets and going through intense physical labor everyday as foot soldiers in the Northern border.”

Lukipela paled, and the serving boy paled as well. Vassago had a serene smile on his face while he doled out this punishment, saying, “Of course, if you survive and don’t want to be reincarnated from the beginning of the Tree Of Life again, you will find yourself very fortunate that I’m offering this leniency.”

“You’re a devil,” Lukipela accused, his eyes flashing.

“I’m afraid that aspect of me hasn’t changed,” Vassago said, still appearing serene. “I’m a demon through and through.”

“You can’t send us out on the border!” the serving boy sputtered. “Do you know what horrible monsters are out there?”

“I wish that the odds are in your favor,” Vassago said as he continued to drink from a wineglass, having poured himself another drink. “If you truly wish to return to Demon Society and have reformed and show sincerity and regret in your actions, I might consider giving you a decent position among society again where you could make a decent living. I’m not unkind. However, this is only after you’ve shown yourself worthy of such a reward.”

Lukipela trembled.

“You will pay for this.”

“I see,” Vassago said, sipping and swirling his wine in its glass. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, and you would do best to remember if you take clandestine actions to eliminate me, I’m afraid that I will punish you, and justifiably so. You will be wishing for Death afterwards.”

Lukipela shivered, though he said nothing as he adjusted his suit and stalked out of the room. “You’re going to regret letting me live, Vassago Fortunato.”

Then he went out, along with the serving boy.

Vassago let out a sigh and pinched his nose.

“You can come out now.”

Dante walked out of the closet, having observed everything before saying, “Pleasant fellow, isn’t he? Are you sure it’s okay to let him go?”

“I will be fine,” Vassago said. “The assassination attempt was something that is a daily occurrence. I’ve handled several of such incidents before, and I will do so again. Still, your generosity has spared me the effort of having to pinpoint the face behind the assassination.”

“You mean, you knew it was poison all along?” Dante said.

Vassago smiled.

“I don’t drink alcohol or other such beverages that I haven’t handled myself, unless if it’s my family.”

“Were you testing me then?” Dante said sourly.

“Yes, I knew you were in there,” Vassago said. “I was waiting to see what you would do.”

“And what if I was an assassin that came to shoot you?” Dante said. “What would you have done?”

“I must keep my mystique and appeal, right?” Vassago said, smiling faintly. “Though if you want to know a trade secret about demons, like what you’re doing with suppressing your mana to confront the current Overlord in position right now—you have much to learn and you need to hide your spiritual pressure better.”

“Ah, right,” Dante said, flushing. “I guess it’s really that obvious, right?”

“To a Grand Magus like me, it is,” Vassago noted. “However, Overlords don’t tend to pay attention to those that they view as weaker than them—they only want to fight the strong, mostly. Their mentality these days is ‘might makes right’ and are hotblooded delinquents that want to flex their might, though I have no interest in becoming an Overlord and wish to devote my time and studies to Magic and the Root of All Magic.”

“What is the Root of All Magic?” Dante asked.

“Ah, an explanation is in order, then,” Vassago said. “The Root of All Magic is a supernatural algorithm of the truth of this world, the absolute origin of magic that involves consciousness from the Big Bang and the ever expanding universe and multi-verse.”

“I see,” Dante said. “At least, I think I see.”

“It is a complex topic, though I think that anyone can understand it as long as they have a passion for it and dedicate time to study it for a lifetime,” Vassago said. “They have to be committed, of course, though I believe that anyone is capable of magic. Some of the Clocktower Academics have this gate-keeping tendency to believe that Magic is only limited to those in the Mage lines of Demons, though Magic is a wondrous phenomena that is beautiful indeed and should be taught to everyone.”

“You know,’ Dante said. “The more I talk to you, I think the more I like you.”

Vassago gave that smile again.

“Likewise, Sir Dante. Anyway, should you wish to study underneath my tutelage or ask for a favor, you can find me at the Clocktower. I’m sure that you’ll get along with my sons.”

“Who are your sons?” Dante asked.

“Eros and Thanatos,” Vassago said, smiling fondly. “Ah, it seems like yesterday they were just born. How time flies by, my. Though in all honesty, time is barely a problem for long-lived or immortal demons.”

“There are demons that are long lived or are even immortal?” Dante said. “Damn, being a demon might have its perks after all.”

“You will find that being a demon is honestly not as bad as it was made out to be in your original world, Sir Dante,” Vassago said.

“Could I, perhaps ask you a question, Vassago?” Dante asked.

“You may, if it’s within reason,” Vassago said as he folded the belled sleeves of his white robe.

“Is your family ever the target of assassinations or murder attempts?” Dante said. “Don’t you worry about them?”

“I do,” Vassago said. “I have considerable power and influence and have magical sentries that are always keeping watch over them, though sometimes I’m not physically there to help them if it involves something dicey or in the middle of something myself, which can cause me great worry. However, Thanatos and Eros are considerably strong Mages themselves, and of course, my wife Adelaide is a formidable woman.”

Dante nodded. “Okay. I understand. Though there is another question.”

Vassago nodded, giving permission for Dante to go on. Dante sucked in a breath, before saying, “Why haven’t you taken down the current Overlord? If you’re powerful enough to take him down and reform the Netherworld from the current state of things, you could’ve done it, right?”

“I have a family to commit to,” Vassago said. “True, I could easily have been an Overlord as well as a Grand Magus. Plus, as said, I wanted to devote my lifetime finding the Root of all Magic, the origins of such a thing to explain the various phenomena of our world.”

Dante thought for a moment.

“Yet doesn’t the Grand Magus title come with its own risks as well?”

“It’s a risk worth well taking,” Vassago said, inclining his head slightly. “You might want to hold onto that Hero title that you have ascribed to your name, Sir Dante. A Heroic Demon is a most unusual case—but also some demons might try to steal the title for its perks.”

“So how does one steal a ‘title’ anyway,” Dante said, wondering about that. “Like Grand Magus and Hero are just names, things, concepts, right? How does one steal a ‘concept’?

“Just as things have names,” Vassago said. “And names are words…words have power. Words have caused revolutions and stirred riots to change, and words have also labeled and divided and united and conquered people. Words are swords, and they can cut and protect and empower. If my title, Grand Magus, is to hold meaning and I live up to the expectations of a great Mage, I must practice magic and find the Root of all Magic. Just as you are a Hero, you must fulfill your expectations of doing noble and valiant deeds in accordance to your Goddess Melusina. To steal a name or a title—you know the thing about demons speaking in tongues?”

Dante nodded reluctantly.

“It’s something like that. If you have enough influence and followers upholding your title, you hold onto that title. I have a popular faction of Mages upholding my title as Grand Magus because I’m a powerful Magician. The Overlord is the Overlord because people empower him to be a mighty demon that rules over these lands. You are a Hero because you have reformed and changed, and will be a Catalyst for change, performing good deeds and fulfill your duty and have Melusina’s belief that you can be reformed.”

Dante thought about it, trying to make sense of it in his head. So demons speaking on tongues and having believers and factions of demons that empower that demon with titles and causing persuasion with silver tongues to change the opinion of a demon and make them have a certain title that empowers and imbues them with abilities and perks was interesting. Having the title Hero was high expectations—and in particular being a Hero after being a reformed assassin was something that is an interesting turn of events that Dante promised that he would live through.

“Hey, Vassago?” Dante said, as Vassago led him out through a dimension portal leading to another place for both of them. “Are we going to the Clocktower?”

“There’s some place that we must stop first,” Vassago said. “You’re going to have a visit at our manor. You will become acquainted with my sons and meet my charming wife.”

“You’re just going to trust a complete stranger to come into your home?” Dante said, though he supposed that Vassago was powerful enough to subdue or kill any threat that came after him if he really wanted to. Plus, they were connected to Melusina, and Dante needed to survive.

“You need a place to stay, yes?” Vassago inquired. “I don’t mind lending you one of the various rooms in the manor to yourself to stay as you become a student of the Clocktower.”

Dante bowed.

“I’m in your debt. Truly.”

“It’s just one favor to another,” Vassago said. “You made the attempt to save my life, so that kindness must be repaid. I don’t mind doing this for you. Besides that, my sons are kind, gentle boys. They will not cause you any trouble.”

“That’s not what I was worried about,” Dante said. “It’s just…about my past.”

“Why worry about it?” Vassago said. “You’re a demon now. And for demons, it is normal for them to murder and rampage, usually. Though if you want to transcend the self-fulfilling prophecy of a former monster or tyrant, you start with change in yourself. Reflect on your journey. Ask yourself why you’re doing what you’re doing.”

Dante stopped to think, and couldn’t think of a proper answer.

“I don’t know.”

“That is okay,” Vassago said. “The answer can be a lifelong pursuit.”

“Just,” Dante said, looking downward. “I saved two children from death when I was back in the other world. I wonder how they’re doing.”

“You might find them sooner than I expect, I think,” Vassago said with a rare smile. “Do not fret, Sir Dante. You will not lack for anything and when you’ve become independent enough to trek out on your own through the circles of the Netherworld to see the journey through Hell, you will begin to understand the need for reformation and a Catalyst for change.”

“And I am that Catalyst for change,” Dante affirmed.

Vassago nodded sagely toward Dante. “Yes indeed. I think the winds of change are coming, and we will see many reformations come into the Netherworld from your actions and presence.”