Hell’s Scion: My Magical Family Doesn’t Know I’m the Antichrist (Villain Protagonist Isekai)

[MadsGM]

Chapter 11: I Am the God of Hellfire, Part 11

"I don't know what you're trying to insinuate, Ivor," Violet practically spat the name, "but if you don't leave right now, I'll break every bone in your body."

Sam smiled, seeing her so furious, protective. She was another tool he could use at his pleasure. One he was in no hurry to get rid of. There was the same risk as with Evelyn, of course. The one he had used to justify not keeping her alive. That once she realized he wasn't who he claimed to be, she would be the first to stab him in the back.

"Well, how quickly you stand up for him," said Ivor. "However, you'd throw the rest of the family to the lions just as fast."

"He is my family," Violet replied. "You, I don't know what the hell you are."

"I'm as much your brother as he is."

"You couldn't be more wrong. Sharing the same blood isn't enough, it takes something more. Get out, Ivor. Last warning. Put aside the nonsense that's gotten into your head, I won't tolerate you bothering my brother at a time like this."

Sam, still in Violet's arms, grinning from ear to ear, amused by the situation. The lovesick puppy had come to the correct conclusion, even if it was only out of blind rage, looking for someone to blame.

"Your brother is a murderer," Ivor spat.

At that very moment, an invisible force ripped his feet from the ground and sent him flying against one of the bookshelves. The impact was enough to knock it down. Ivor fell on top of it, instead of being buried underneath. A pity. He could have broken a few ribs that way, could have seen him writhing on the ground like a worm, spitting blood.

Well. Still, the blow hadn't been light by any means. It was enough for him.

"I warned you. Not once but twice. There won't be a third time," said Violet. "As soon as you catch your breath, no, right now, get out of my fucking sight or I'll bury you."

The other boy was terrified.

As for Ivor, he supposed he was too stupid for fear. He only saw rage and pain on his face. He got up slowly, that is, as fast as he could.

"What did you think was going to happen?" Violet stood up too, indicating for him to stay back. He didn't need her protection, he wasn't the child she thought he was (although even with the other Sam there weren't many years between them, she had changed his diapers, okay, but when she herself was five years old at most). Anyway, he would gladly take advantage of it. "That you were going to come here with demands, saying stupid things, and everything was going to go your way for no reason? As if the world revolved around you?"

The other guy stepped between them, raising his hands, suddenly a peacemaker.

"Violet, there's no need to do this."

"Jaiden, you chose sides. Now don't pretend it's not so."

"I'm just trying to do what I can for a friend."

"Then talk to him, not me. It's clear he has no intention of backing down."

Ivor took a step forward. A wobbling step.

"Think with your damn head, Violet. He was the last person who was with her. Do you really believe it can be that simple? She just fell? During the family conference, it was nothing more than an unfortunate accident?"

"Well, yes," said Violet. "Sometimes things happen, idiot, it's not all a plot or a deep conspiracy. And even if someone had killed her, it wouldn't be Sam. Think with your head and explain to me why he would do it, come on, let's hear it. Why the hell? Evelyn would have gladly helped him become the heir. She loved him and that's the problem, isn't it?"

"Violet," said Jaiden. A plea.

Sam had to hold back his laughter.

"Now that she's gone, you want to play the hero and paint Sam as a monster, as if that way you could win her over. But she's already dead. And she never loved you. Not even a little. Not the way you wanted her to."

With each word she said, naturally, Ivor became angrier and angrier. He was puffing, gritting his teeth, but he didn't look like a caged animal. Rather, he was pathetically trying to intimidate, even though his emotions were undoubtedly real. Yes, it was really difficult to hold back the laughter.

He wouldn't mess it all up, again, but he didn't want to give Violet something else to think about so soon after screwing up something related to her own birth date. Too soon for that.

Violet tossed her hair back with one hand. She was completely relaxed, in control. Sam knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. There was no supernatural reason, of course, just instinct.

"If you're going to make ridiculous accusations, maybe you killed her, huh? Because you couldn't have her."

Violet had hit the nail on the head. Okay, Ivor had reached the right conclusion, but the reason was his rage and jealousy, nothing more. That's why he couldn't stand it. He tried something, but all he managed to do was flutter the pages of the open book and knock some books off the shelf, as if a strong wind had blown. Violet didn't even flinch.

"See the difference between us? You can't do shit to me. Now that you've attacked me, I have the right to do something worse to you. So if you know what's good for you, get lost. You're not going to get away with just a couple of broken ribs. I might break your fucking legs."

Jaiden pushed Ivor away and he, strangely, listened to the voice of reason and let himself be led away. His expression only changed for the worse, however. Sam had no doubt that he would try again. But when he was alone.

It was a shame he had given up so soon. He would have liked to see his legs broken.

Assuming Violet hadn't just been bluffing.

But he didn't think so, that woman had balls.

"I'm sorry you had to see something so unpleasant," she said, turning around. Unpleasant? It had rather turned him on. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room. You can take those books. Anyway, as you can see, nobody's going to miss them. They only come here for stupid reasons."

Sam grabbed a few books and thought he would have to ask Violet to carry the rest, but then he felt inspired and lifted the rest of the books with his telekinesis, making them float around him like a rather poor barrier.

Violet didn't seem surprised.

Good. He had been almost one hundred percent sure that it wouldn't be unusual after what they had both done in the brief fight. But almost was still just almost. He couldn't get anywhere by acting timidly, he would never know everything he should know, but it was still a risk.

Violet accompanied him to the door of the room as he had asked. She had been relaxing along the way. He supposed she hadn't gone further only because he had been present.

Too bad, maybe she would have fulfilled Satan's commission without having to lift a finger.

He didn't think she would have killed him on purpose, but she could have gone too far in the middle of the fight. It would have been nice... Well, in any case, it wouldn't have been enough to just hear about it. He would have wanted to see it with his own eyes. So better this way.

Sam put the key in the lock, turned it.

Violet's prediction turned out to be correct.

"Hello, sister," she said.

Christina was sitting on his bed, waiting for him.

"I'll leave you alone." Violet gave him a kiss on the cheek and left, closing the door.

He dropped the books. He tried to arrange them with telekinesis, but what counted wasn't the intention, but the final result. Sam clicked his tongue.

"I'm glad to see you," he said.

Christina looked away and curled up on his bed. She had good legs, she was barefoot. He hadn't noticed that until now. Where were her heels? Well, it doesn't matter.

"Now I really don't know what to say, knowing that Violet has already talked to you. She's better at these things. And almost everything."

The little sister being jealous of the big sister, even though it was mainly because she herself, alone and without help, put her on an unreachable pedestal. Typical.

Sam sat down next to her on the bed.

"Seeing you is enough to make me feel better. Besides, it's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

"No. I... I want to do something for you for real. But I'm not a goddess, I can't resurrect her. I can't fix anything, and nothing I say can help you. Not really. Words are carried away by the wind." Christina lowered her head. "And if I keep going like this, you're going to end up comforting me instead of the other way around."

The girl was realistic. Not cynical, that didn't exist.

Which would be useful to him. Sam smiled as he put a hand on her chin, lifting it, forcing her to look into his eyes. Christina fit into the plan he had been building since Ivor had come for him. He wasn't good at direct fights. Even if he had been, this new body clearly wasn't toned. He wasn't good at acting either.

"Actually, there is something you could do for me."

Christina, with tears in her eyes, nodded.

"What? You tell me whatever. Anything."

Sam's smile widened even more if possible.

I Am the God of Hellfire, Part 11: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 12: I Am the God of Hellfire, Part 12

NOW

Feeling his own blood running from the cut on his cheek, Sam remained impassive, barely blinking. He had no reason to feel fear. Everything was going as he had predicted, exactly as he wanted.

"You have nothing. You know it. You want to force me to confess a falsehood with violence. You're pathetic."

He wasn't sure how he managed to sound genuinely offended, as if it were the biggest lie he had ever heard, but he did.

"Instead of your cheek, I should have cut out your tongue."

"Because you are afraid of what I might say?"

Ivor grimaced.

"Not even the guy behind me believes in you. He's doing this out of some twisted sense of loyalty, or because he's simply stupid. But he knows you're crazy."

Ivor gripped the knife tighter. For a moment, he thought he would stab him in the stomach or at least make the cut on his cheek bigger. Much bigger. But then the moment passed.

Sam elbowed Ivor. He had the body of what the other Sam had been: a spoiled brat, a noble who had never lacked anything and had never had to make an effort to get what he wanted. He wasn't going to do much to anyone, let alone in such an unfavorable position, but that had never been his intention.

Not with his non-existent physical strength, of course.

He used the elbow to disguise his application of telekinesis, pushing Jaiden back. The fool fell to the ground on the grass.

Ivor screamed like a madman and came at him, blindly wielding the knife, without skill. He wanted to slash him. It was much more personal than using magic against him.

But Sam dodged the first blow effortlessly. Due to his exaggerated movements, it was easy to see it coming even for someone completely lacking in experience like him.

And he made sure there wasn't a second blow, grabbing his arm, twisting it. Ivor put strength against him. Without success, at least for now. However, Sam had no intention of winning the struggle. That was the least of it. He got close enough to whisper in his pawn's ear.

"I killed her. I stood next to her on the rooftop and pushed her. And I enjoyed it, that's the truth. I was hard when I saw her head smash against the ground."

That was exactly what he had wanted. What he had repeatedly demanded, with violence. But he still froze and curled up on himself as if he had been punched in the stomach and now couldn't breathe. The sweet release of truth. Ha.

He didn't stay frozen for long. Naturally, he exploded.

"You bastard!"

Ivor escaped from his grip easily. He hadn't needed the strength that anger granted, but it didn't hurt either. He tried to slash him once more. Was it sadism or was he so blinded by rage that he didn't even think of resorting to magic? In any case, Sam could have crushed him like an insect, but he limited himself to dodging, jumping backwards.

He had neither talent nor practice, above all what allowed him to keep his skin were light and subtle applications of his telekinesis, moving the blade away from his flesh, making him stumble. Natural things for someone in the midst of a nervous breakdown, wielding a weapon in his blind fury, things that could be overlooked.

Jaiden approached, but didn't have the balls to get between them.

Christina finally came out of hiding. That was the only thing that had worried him about the plan. That she couldn't hold back.

Well, he could have improvised another path to the same destination. He was good at that. And the plan hadn't been such a concrete thing from the beginning.

"Stop!" Christina shouted.

But it wasn't enough, of course it wasn't, between him and Violet they had driven him mad with rage and now there was only one thing that could give him peace. That was everything to him now. Only after seeing his corpse at his feet would he think about the consequences, only then and not a second before.

Which was exactly what he wanted, and it wouldn't turn out as Ivor thought.

Jaiden took a step forward to stop this madness, probably thinking he was being noble, the hero, despite having come here to hold him down knowing perfectly well what Ivor intended to do.

Sam gave him a little push, providing him with the courage he needed to take the rest of the steps. It didn't need to be said, but he didn't use his hands. Apart from being too far away for that, it wouldn't provide the desired effect.

"No. No!"

An accident. The unfortunate accident of Ivor stabbing his best friend, while he was only trying to stop a madness. Another innocent taken before his time. He had made it all very easy for him.

He felt deeply satisfied.

He had improvised most of the plan on the fly, but that's how plans were in real life. Nothing was so simple that you could predict everything. Smart plans consisted of knowing how to take advantage of the opportunities that came to you, not in a prediction that bordered on omniscience. Evelyn's murder had also been fortuitous and had turned out great.

In fact, without knowing it, that had paved the way to his second goal.

"I didn't... I didn't..." Ivor babbled like a complete idiot.

Jaiden said nothing in response. His mouth was too full of blood for that. His face had paled in the blink of an eye. He coughed, blood trickled between his teeth, fell down his chin.

Ivor withdrew the knife.

Having lost the last thing keeping him standing, Jaiden collapsed. The blood-soaked knife gleamed in the sunlight. A long, long red curtain was growing underneath the corpse.

Sam was almost as excited as when he saw Evelyn's head smash against the ground.

After all, his hands had done that. Better than his hands, he had used a supernatural power to take someone's life. He had always known he wasn't a normal person, that he was better than others, but now... God, he had powers! He already knew it, but how exciting, damn it.

He had to bite his inner cheek to avoid smiling.

"Oh my God." Christina put her hands to her mouth.

Yeah, he thought, well you're going to have to get used to it, this is just the beginning. I'll spill much more blood before this is over. But you have nothing to worry about, no sir.

"And you call me a murderer?" he said coldly, it barely sounded like a question. "Tell me, Jaiden is only your second victim, right? You killed Evelyn."

"Shut... Shut up, demon!"

Sam smiled for a moment. He couldn't help it. Oh, what irony. What sweet, sweet irony.

Ivor had hit the nail on the head, even in that (he was aware that it wasn't what he meant to say, but well, he would count it anyway), but no one would believe him. He would die miserably after stabbing his best friend, everyone believing he was nothing more than crazy. He would be buried in darkness along with the shreds of truth he had been able to cling to.

Ivor threw the knife aside, not without staining his hands first, and then threw him against a tree with his magic. Sam didn't resist at all. The force of the impact was such that the wood splintered, he felt some broken pieces sticking into his back. A dagger of pain ran down his spine, leaving him trembling.

Sam raised his head to meet his gaze. Ivor's pupils had shrunk so much that they looked like black dots. His face was red, covered in sweat.

Madness. There was nothing but madness there, and he was responsible.

He had seen him wobbling at first and had given him the push he needed to fall into an unfathomable blackness. That too was murder, almost as satisfying as the violent variant. He had already taken care of Ivor Wright.

Before he could drag him to hell, haha, with him, Christina acted. Not with mere telekinesis. She made water appear out of nowhere between her hands, made it take the shape of a spear and fired it at blinding speed.

Hitting Ivor directly in the chest.

Which also undid the influence he had over him, allowing his body to slide to the ground. His head hurt, his ears were ringing. He didn't need to look, it was enough to feel the trail of blood he had left on the trunk.

The water spear unfortunately turned out not to be solid enough to pierce Ivor, but it did knock him to the ground and left him gasping.

Christina didn't consider the fight over, she ran forward, summoning more water, making even the water from the distant fountain float towards her.

But it ended.

Because doors and windows opened, and the adults arrived. The tide parted for one particular asshole.

"What the hell is going on here?" that guy demanded to know.

Looking at him closely, Sam realized that he wasn't an ordinary asshole. He knew he was someone important since the crowd parted to let him pass, of course, but he cared little about the power of a mere human, so he didn't take it into account. What caught his attention was the resemblance.

Not that they were like two peas in a pod, but it was evident that this man was his human father.

I Am the God of Hellfire, Part 12: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 13: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 13

Ivor trembled. He had the balls to try to kill someone just on suspicion, but now that his daddy had come, he lowered his head and shrank into himself. How funny, the little son of a bitch.

"Father," he said, he licked his lips.

"When someone asks a question, it's because they want an answer. That doesn't answer anything, Ivor."

He couldn't care less about Jaiden, who was lying very close by. He didn't even look at him out of the corner of his eye. It's not that all the adults had left the mansion, he imagined that Jaiden's mother wasn't among the crowd, because absolutely no one came to him.

He wiped the blood from his mouth by passing a hand over it, above all to hide his smile, the blood didn't bother him. Quite the contrary. He liked its feeling on the skin. At least now that it was still warm. That was a little strange, even for him. He supposed he wasn't immune to having demon blood running through his veins. Or maybe that had nothing to do with it and in his past life he simply hadn't been in a position to discover this taste for blood.

Anyway, nothing would change in any case. He would never back down.

That effect, if it existed, was nothing more than an extra push.

"Father, Jaiden is dying," said Christina. Christina, and not Ivor, his supposed friend.

"And he will, daughter. There's no magic that can save him. It was a precise stab. I can't call anyone in time to save him."

The girl fell silent.

He felt sorry for Christina in a way. He didn't dislike her and she was a precious little thing that he hoped to possess at the end of this, but come on, he didn't regret it either. He was actually doing her a favor. It was about time she started getting used to bloodshed.

Her future would be covered in blood, after all.

People began to whisper. He couldn't hear anything specific (he wasn't concentrating, his ears were still ringing), but it wasn't difficult to assume. How many of them justified Lord Wright's coldness, how many, instead, criticized it as inhuman?

He couldn't know.

And how many of the latter really cared about Jaiden, instead of using him as an excuse for opinions they had held for a long time?

He could be sure they didn't exist.

"Ivor, I asked you a question."

"Father, I..."

The brat's plea, who was on his knees and still struggling to breathe, meant shit to Lord Wright, as it should be. It would be a disappointment to share blood with a sentimental idiot. Although, of course, it wasn't in his interest for him to be too smart either.

"Enough. You spilled the blood of someone from your own family. You're not a Wright and I'm not your father."

Oh, very good, very good. Everything was turning out even better than he had planned. He could clearly see that this statement was the last nail in the coffin of his sanity. It was funny that he would say it, but for a few seconds Ivor's face didn't even look like that of a human being.

"Your favorite killed Evelyn."

Lord Wright crossed his hands behind his back.

"Proof?" But he wasn't going to deny that Sam, the other Sam, was his favorite, huh? Interesting. He was always looking for things he could take advantage of in the future. Grip points to tear down this paper mansion and reign over the ashes and flames.

"He confessed it to me himself! And he enjoyed it."

The murder, or whispering it in his ear, out of Christina and Jaiden's reach?

Well, both things were true. Hahaha!

Lord Wright turned his head to look at him. He would simply call him by his name if he knew what the hell it was.

"Did you kill her, Samuel?"

"No, sir," he replied, trying to sound offended.

"Sir? It's not you I've found slashing a brother. You're not the one in trouble. Call me father." Nice words, except for the part where there wasn't a hint of family warmth in his tone, although it's not that Sam wanted any. He already had a father to begin with.

Well, because of that dead tone and because that brat still hadn't finished dying. His gurgles could be heard as he died miserably, choking on his own blood.

And he didn't even have time to stop and enjoy it due to the situation. Pity.

"Yes, father."

Anyway, he didn't like it, but he had to play along. Just like with Satan, whom he would probably end up stabbing when all this was over. If he were in his place, he wouldn't give up the throne of hell so easily, that's for sure. Common sense.

"But, fa..." Ivor bit his tongue. "What else was I supposed to say to him?"

You could tell he was just a brat. Sam understood the point of what that guy had done right away. It wasn't hard to understand. For someone with half a brain, that is. But right now Ivor must be seeing double.

"It has as much merit as your unfounded accusations," said Lord Wright. "Except that you've acted like a madman, stabbing Jaiden, right? What fault did he have in anything?"

Ivor opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water. His hands were shaking. For a moment he thought he was going to attack. For which nothing would happen, of course. He highly doubted that the brat would manage to reach him even with a surprise attack, much less rob him of the pleasure of, undoubtedly, killing that young master with his own hands.

"None, but he got in my way and I... I, until it was too late..."

Jaiden exhales his last breath.

He thought he had emptied Ivor, but he was wrong. He saw the last shreds of his being disappear at that very moment. His eyes became glassy, his arms fell languidly to the floor. There was no strength left in his body. Not even a spark.

The cutting and burning ice of hell had taken everything.

"Sir..." said Ivor, without even looking at the man who had been his father.

He didn't finish the sentence. He wouldn't have finished it even if they had given him several hours to do so. He had ceased to be a human being...

"Are you still trying to justify yourself? Maybe there's no fixing you."

"Sir!"

But even an animal was afraid to die.

"You won't be my problem anymore. Guards!"

The guards made their way through the crowd, approaching. So they had been there all along, they just hadn't bothered to do anything until now, when they were given an explicit order. Which was worse.

"Take him to his room and leave him locked up," ordered the lord. "It will take me time to find him some sanatorium."

Oh, so they did have holes to bury the insane alive. They had started then, in the Middle Ages, so one could say it was to be expected. It was also expected to shit in a shithole, literally, and then throw it out the window, but when he first felt the urge to shit he had discovered that they had indoor plumbing.

It was a different world, period. He couldn't assume much.

Lord Wright turned around and shook his head, exasperated with this whole situation. If he knew the truth, he wouldn't have dared to turn his back on him for even a second. Satan has his own plans, he thought, but I imagine you'll be the last to fall. The cherry on top.

"Bring the other boy inside, prepare him for the funeral. And have someone heal Samuel. We can't let his face get ruined."

Sam got up slowly, with Christina's help. She still couldn't take her eyes off the corpse. He supposed it was a natural reaction, but he would like her to get over it already. What's past is past, right?

Anyway, yes, his precious face was very important. They'd better hope the wound didn't leave a scar. He would massacre them and make sure they suffered in all sorts of ways before dying anyway, but...

Well, actually there was no but.

The guards took Ivor away. He was defeated, resigned. He could easily use magic to escape the guards' grip, he supposed, but he wouldn't get very far anyway. He watched him as he walked away. As he was about to disappear into the mansion, as most of the adults had done now that Lord Wright had passed sentence and the show was over.

Moving his lips, he said to him: I win.

And he smiled with blood-stained lips.

But it wasn't a complete victory, not yet. He had defied Satan's orders once and didn't feel like pushing his luck twice in a row. He had destroyed Ivor, but that wasn't enough. He had to kill him before he escaped his reach.

Despite the fact that, at this point, it would be a merciful act, uncharacteristic of him.

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 13: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 14: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 14

"I shouldn't have listened to you," said Christina, looking at him intently with her hands on his cheeks as if she was going to see something the healers had overlooked.

He appreciated her concern for what it was, another thing he could take full advantage of. Well, he had to play his part. Sam took a deep breath, more to buy time than anything else. He had been thinking about the right words.

He wasn't sure he had found them, but maybe there was something more important than the words themselves.

"If you had intervened earlier, that madman would still be on the loose. Things went wrong, yes. But it wasn't your fault. And it could have been worse. It could have been me, not Jaiden." He forced himself to grimace. "I know how that sounds..."

Like the damn truth, no more, no less.

Even if he weren't this way, who would worry about others before themselves, the so-called heroes? Well, the completely insane, there was no way around it.

And Sam wasn't crazy.

Christina suddenly kissed him on the forehead, as if she were the older sister. As he had said, he appreciated her concern, her love. It was another tool to get what he wanted. But she was going a bit overboard.

"I understand you. I'm sorry." Why exactly was she apologizing? Would she know herself? That was the million-dollar question. "Does it still hurt?"

"A little." Sam answered without thinking twice.

There was no practical reason to hide the truth from her. Besides, it was no longer possible. He had lost count of the times she had asked him that. Seriously.

In a few minutes she would have asked him again as if something could have changed for the worse (he had had the opportunity to look at himself in the mirror and he looked perfect, without the slightest imperfection on his skin, much less scars) if it weren't because Violet suddenly entered the infirmary, slamming the door.

Violet sighed with relief as soon as she saw them, approaching.

"I'm so sorry. I should have been there, but... I'm glad you took care of it."

"Of course. I would do anything for him too," Christina replied.

She's never told you otherwise, little sister, he thought.

No reason to say it out loud.

If they had a little rivalry because of him, he would only reap the benefits, it couldn't affect him negatively. In fact, it wouldn't hurt for them to be motivated to outdo each other.

Or just motivated, maybe the older one didn't care about that, didn't even realize her younger sister's inferiority complex.

In any case, he would keep quiet about it.

It's not like he thought he could so easily fix an emotional problem that would have been cultivating for almost two decades, anyway.

He wasn't any psychologist.

In fact, he had only had a detrimental effect on Christina's mental health. Two family members less, three soon, in the same number of days. And that was just the beginning.

"Sam, I'm so sorry this had to happen," Violet said. "One thing after another, with no time to catch your breath. It hasn't been a good start to your sweet eighteen."

Sam simply shrugged. Acting like a normal person was tiring. He hoped they would detect that tiredness and interpret it in their own way. Certainly there was little he could do or decide to convince them that he wasn't Sam, unless he was exposed as the devil's son by someone.

The two women would seek the most charitable interpretation of his actions, what fit into what they saw as natural for him.

Because they loved him.

"It is what it is. None of what happened makes me happy," Sam said. It could be the biggest lie he had told since he arrived in this world "but, as I was telling Christina, it could have been worse. That madman could still be on the loose, for example."

"Do you think he killed Evelyn too?" Christina asked, looking in his direction, but through him. At least for now she had her head elsewhere. It was obvious what. Her first time seeing a corpse.

Sam might be a monster, but he understood the difference. He understood what the normal reactions were supposed to be.

Still, he wished she would get over it already.

He didn't even have that idiot's corpse in the middle, which could have prevented it all if he hadn't let his friend drag him into the jaws of death...

Although of course, if Jaiden had had an ounce of common sense, his plan wouldn't have been nearly as effective. Part of its success was due to his mental deficiencies.

"Why not, sister? He killed Jaiden and the poor bastard was helping him."

Believing all along that he was committing a stupidity, helping a friend who had gone mad with grief, but one way or another he had done it.

Christina frowned, biting her lower lip.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of that, but..." There was barely any inflection in his tone, no real feeling. It was almost worrying that they would realize something was wrong. Acting wasn't his forte and he had had to do it very often, non-stop.

However, they didn't notice.

They just kept looking at him with wide eyes full of concern for him.

"What? It doesn't matter," Christina said. "You had it much worse."

More like a little kid on Christmas, he thought.

The thing is that once again she was putting her older brother's interests above her own. She was a good little sister. Sam smiled, thinking: I can't wait to make you mine.

Violet put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. Surprising him.

"She's right. Just relax and let yourself be taken care of, only."

"Soon Ivor will be locked up and... we can all get over this," Christina said.

In fact, he would help her get over it faster than she thought.

Since Ivor would never get anywhere. Instead of letting the rubble of his life slowly crush him, he had to put him out of his misery.

It was a shame, but there were more important things than sadism.

He didn't mean fulfilling Satan's orders, although it wasn't something he could afford to ignore, at least for now. Socially destroying Ivor and ensuring that he was locked up in some asylum for the mentally ill clearly hadn't been enough.

That is, nothing had changed inside him.

He needed to kill him, above all, to obtain a new power. Using telekinesis to make Ivor kill Jaiden had been orgasmic. What other dark powers would the gift of his demonic blood hide?

He really couldn't wait to find out.

——

Sam snuck out as soon as night fell. Despite how tired he was, he hadn't allowed himself to even take a nap, or close his eyes for an instant.

Even if it was just one last job, he still had work to do, that was the point. He wanted to go to sleep knowing that all the loose ends were tied up.

He could have entered Ivor's room using the mansion keys, but even if he had found a way to steal the keys from Annabelle and then return them to their place (because otherwise it would be as if he had simply asked for them, when dawn came she would know he was the killer), that added one more step.

Many more things that could go wrong.

It was better to finish the job in the least risky way possible. Theoretically, at least. Just like when he escaped from the roof, he crawled along the wall until he reached Ivor's window. He opened it from the outside with his powers.

Maybe he could have done it just by pulling, but he didn't want to let go of the wall to try that.

So, he went for the safe option.

He slid into the darkness of his victim's room without making a sound. No problems. There was no one else inside, naturally, but neither were there guards watching at the door. He knew that for sure, it wasn't just an assumption. He had taken a look a few minutes ago.

Even if they were out there, right next door, they wouldn't see anything. They wouldn't hear anything.

Not until it was too late.

Sam rummaged through Ivor's desk until he found what he was looking for. He lifted the letter opener, but not with his own hands.

Then he used it to slit the little son of a bitch's throat.

He made a very deep wound. He couldn't scream, only choke on his own blood.

Just like Jaiden.

And he stayed by his side, so he could see him, even in the gloom, so he could look him in the eyes and know who was stealing his life. Smiling, he was always smiling in this world, this was happiness.

The hope to dream and the power to fulfill your dreams.

"Sleep forever." Sam laughed softly, his whole body trembling with pleasure.

And when death suffocated all trace of light in his eyes, Sam turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

If anyone were out there to see him, his shadow distorted and elongated by the light of the moon, that gigantic blind eye, they might believe him to be some kind of creature. Maybe a human spider.

One thing was clear, the true devil had gotten away with it.

It was a perfect victory.

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 14: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 15: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 15

Sam was lying on the bed, naked from the waist down. His cock couldn't be harder.

"Come on. Suck it. You know you want to do it," he said in a hoarse voice.

Christina, dressed only in lingerie, swallowed.

Then, very slowly, she lowered her head between his legs. Opening her mouth.

——

When Sam opened his eyes, he found himself again in the illusory copy of the mansion.

Satan didn't like doing this, but regardless of what plans he had, he was the key piece. Otherwise he wouldn't have bothered to have a son in the first place. So he had to do what he could for him. Providing him with a safe space in which to practice his powers was the least he could do, no matter how much it hurt and weakened him.

It was possible that was a lie in the first place.

Nothing more than a way to make him feel grateful.

Actually, it wouldn't surprise him in the least. But that was beside the point, it's not like he ever thought Satan was really his ally, that he didn't have his own agenda and that he was anything more than a piece for that thing. More or less important, pieces were pieces.

"Father, before we begin, I have a question. If it's not too much trouble."

"Go ahead."

"I felt more changes as soon as I killed Ivor, but killing Jaiden had no effect. Is it because I didn't do it with my own hands, even though I was definitely responsible, or because that stupid guy wasn't Wright enough?"

In case it was the latter, there would be a problem. Satan had suggested the housekeeper as the first murder, assuring him that he would start gaining his powers. So, unless she was an illegitimate daughter as he had speculated at first, all that was a lie.

For something they called him the Prince of Lies, but he hoped he hadn't screwed him over like that. What reasons could he have, damn it? Nothing would make sense.

"Neither one thing nor the other," Satan said.

It was irritating to have a conversation with someone he couldn't see half the time. Neither of them was doing anything important in this illusory mansion, why hide?

"Oh?"

But that answer was interesting. Could it be that it wasn't true either that the unlocking of powers was linked to the murders?

He wanted to know the rules of the game they were playing. He needed it more than the oxygen in his lungs. His life would probably literally depend on it. Very soon, when he took care of these annoying insects.

When he reigned over the ashes and rubble of this family.

"Well, not even I can be sure 100% of the answer," Satan said, "but I think it has to do with your mental state. Considering that you hadn't finished the job prevented you from unlocking a new power. The problem is that it's true, of course, so you couldn't have done anything to avoid it."

Sam frowned, pondering.

It sounded good, but the truth was that he wasn't qualified to judge if it made sense. This world was completely new to him. Not even a week had passed yet, and the side he was exploring was completely unknown to everyone except him and Satan. So the other Sam would have been just as lost as him.

He saw no reason to deceive her about this, of course, but just because he didn't see it didn't mean it didn't exist.

In any case, it wasn't worth talking about it.

If he was telling the truth, it was something he had to accept sooner or later. If it was a lie, then he would keep lying to him. As long as things kept going perfectly, it didn't bother him for now, at least.

"Naturally. You're my son and you need to feel that you have everything under control with the same strength as I do, but that's how things are."

Yes.

They weren't father and son, but in the end they had ended up looking alike. Maybe more than the other Sam would have ever done, which was ironic. Maybe the devil had found his perfect son in a human being.

That would be a surprise.

Maybe he would tell him after he stabbed him, just to see his face.

"Humans seek to study magic, they have systematized it over the years," Satan said. "However, in the process they have done nothing but... cage it. They know nothing of its free and wild power. That's why we are stronger."

But that's why things weren't as simple as looking at a dusty book and seeing exactly what you had to do and what you had done wrong. Satan and he had different powers. Similar in some things, perhaps, but ultimately different.

"I understand, father."

"Good."

Seconds later, a copy of Ivor manifested in front of him, in the middle of the reception. Another empty doll that existed for his convenience.

"I thought you might like to torment him a bit more."

"Good decision."

Sam stared at Ivor and searched within himself at the same time, a sensation different from the one that gave him using telekinesis, a new, unknown sensation. He didn't close his eyes like the previous time, not even to start.

He had quickly learned to use telekinesis with his eyes open, and he didn't think it was still necessary.

It probably never had been, it had just helped him concentrate.

It couldn't be because he kept his eyes open, it didn't fit, but the fact is that he got no results. Sam frowned. Yes, it wasn't about that. Because he no longer felt the strange sensation that had filled and shaken him on his way back to the room, after killing Ivor.

The same euphoria and change that enveloped him when he pushed Evelyn off the roof.

Not that, nor anything like it.

He had searched within himself for the power that he knew must be there, somewhere, and had found nothing.

He clicked his tongue.

"Shit. I don't feel anything special."

"Just try again. We have time."

Yeah, plenty of time and it wouldn't even affect his sleep hours, but that wasn't the point. Sam frowned even more, frustrated, angry with himself.

"With all due respect, I don't think that's going to change anything. Something's wrong."

"Very well. It's your power, not mine. You know it better, even if only by instinct. What do you think is missing?"

If I knew I would have already gotten to it, obviously, he thought. But, despite his rage, he had enough presence of mind to recognize that saying that out loud would be the worst damn idea of his life.

He didn't like living knowing that Satan was more powerful than him, that he could sabotage him at any moment, if he so desired, even if he just got bored of him. Who knew what a demon was like?

But for now it was the truth and that was it. There was no way around it. He had to show him some respect or he would pay for it. He didn't want to bet that he was too valuable a piece of his plan to crush him, that he wouldn't dare throw eighteen years, from his perspective, into the damn trash.

He didn't like gambling.

He was good at improvising, yes, but that had nothing to do with it.

"I don't know, but I'm sure. It's not that I started and failed, I didn't notice anything. Something must be missing."

He gritted his teeth.

No matter how many times he turned the question over in his mind, he wouldn't get anywhere. How was he going to find the missing piece if he didn't have a clue what the power could be? And waiting for a sign wasn't an option, even if it really came out of nowhere.

Gambling and passivity were the enemies of success.

Satan had told him that he wasn't in a hurry, that it was best to do things right, no matter how long it took him. But he was in a hurry, to a certain extent. Now that he had started, there was no way he could stop. On top of that with such a strong start.

So addictive.

Satan finally decided to stop the nonsense (he could affirm that among his various powers, reading his mind wasn't one of them or he would have already made him pay for his sarcastic comments) and appear by his side, sliding through a wall as if it were water, once again.

Too much consistency for an illusory space. Or maybe it didn't mean anything, really.

"I think I know what the problem is," said Satan.

Without making a gesture or anything he could see or feel, he made a crow manifest. When he recreated Evelyn's corpse for his pleasure, he had snapped his fingers, but he supposed that had been nothing more than a theatrical gesture.

This time it wasn't Ivor, it wasn't Evelyn, nor Jaiden. Just a crow, black as a starless night, standing at his feet.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Rip out its heart."

Ah, so it wasn't a matter of trying to use his power on the crow, to make sure it wasn't something that only affected animals.

Anyway.

He wouldn't enjoy it as much as killing a human being for obvious reasons (even if it had been more than a realistic illusion), but Sam didn't hesitate. Just to try.

He was so eager to control his new power that he could barely contain himself.

Sam gutted the animal with his bare hands. It was surprisingly easy. Once he had it palpitating in his hands, which did produce a slight pleasure, despite everything, he glanced at the demon. Waiting for more instructions.

"And now?"

"Whatever feels natural to you."

But he shouldn't have done it.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, probably too sarcastically, but was saved because he began to feel something more than the heat of the still-beating heart of the animal.

Letting himself be carried away by that sensation, he ate it.

He devoured every last bit of the heart, its blood ended up running down his chin and hands. He had the feeling that the amount of blood was disproportionate, but that didn't matter.

Nothing was real, nothing had to make sense.

Speaking of which, he transformed into a crow in the blink of an eye. The transformation was instantaneous. There wasn't even pain, and there were important things that hadn't changed, such as...

"Oh. I can talk, this is very strange."

He couldn't say it was the strangest thing of all.

This adventure had begun with him being reincarnated, when all his life he had been sure that you die and the curtains fall, the lights go out forever and that's it.

So he couldn't say it was the strangest thing that had happened to him, not by a long shot, but it almost felt like the strangest.

The ease of the change. The fact that he had the form of an animal, but retained the ability to think and process of a human being. It didn't fit.

But that uncomfortable feeling would pass, he could and should ignore that. From the beginning it was clear that science had a passing relationship with this world. If transforming into a crow had surprised him more, that was only because it had affected him directly.

Sam decided to test his new form, flying through the illusory mansion.

He thought he would have to practice. That he would end up crashing like a fool against the walls and the floor until he got used to it, feeling humiliated in front of Satan, but it wasn't so. The flapping of wings, the balance, the flow of air. Everything about flying felt as natural to him as it should be for a real bird.

It was part of the package.

He returned to the starting point. Next to Satan. There he regained his human form with a single thought, with total naturalness, and he didn't even feel dizzy from the sudden change, again.

Good, good. This power was much better than he had thought at first.

But, to be satisfied, he had to do the test again. Transforming and undoing the transformation again. It presented no problem for him. It was as natural as breathing or as flying was in his crow form.

"So I only need to devour the heart of an animal once to transform into it whenever I want. Good. That's much better."

A deliciously diabolical idea occurred to him that made him regret having killed Ivor so soon.

But that didn't mean it was useless, that he couldn't use that idea against other people.

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 15: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 16: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 16

Sam left the mansion grounds for the second time to set his plan in motion. Satan had given him total freedom with the next target or targets if he so desired, but if he wasn't able to obtain the key piece, it would be best to go after other people.

He would have to abandon the plan, or rather the vague idea. With his first three victims, he had improvised most of it on the fly; he was intelligent, not omniscient. He could never have foreseen that Evelyn's death would allow him to form a chain, dragging two others to hell.

Moreover, it wouldn't be worth the effort of devising a detailed plan if he then proved unable to obtain that piece, to put anything into practice.

Although he saw no reason why he would fail.

Compared to everything he had done in just a few days, what he was proposing was quite simple. He supposed that what made him a bit anxious was leaving the mansion grounds, the only thing familiar to him in this strange world.

He had had to leave them for the first time for Evelyn and Ivor's funeral.

Now he would return to the same place for the opposite reason.

He had wanted to go during the day, but he forced himself to be patient because it would have been too dangerous. At night, no one had to notice his absence or ask questions. Even if someone did, he had made sure the housekeeper would cover for him.

Sam arrived at the cemetery gate. It was locked. He could force it open with his telekinesis, but he didn't want to leave any trace. Many thieves visited the cemetery, especially when they had recently buried some noble gentleman or lady, those who had the most to waste even in death.

There would be nothing pointing to him, but he would prefer that the theft not be discovered anyway.

So he simply threw the shovel over the gate and climbed to the other side, slowly and carefully. If someone saw him, he would scurry away as quickly as possible. No one had to recognize him at first sight; he was wearing peasant clothes, not noble ones, and besides, it was night.

Transforming into a crow to pass between the bars or over the gate wasn't an option either.

He had discovered upon returning that for that power to work in the real world, he had to eat a real heart.

He should have seen it coming, otherwise it would be too convenient a power, but he hadn't been thinking clearly, just turning over the possibilities. He still hadn't been able to eat a real crow's heart, not even find the animal, but all in good time. This was much more important.

He found the grave he was looking for and began to dig.

It was unlikely that anyone would bother him, apart from the night watchman. That didn't worry him. If he saw him, Sam would take him out and bury him in the same coffin to get rid of the evidence. His mission was to massacre his false human family, but he didn't care in the least if there was some collateral damage. On the contrary.

He wouldn't waste time killing people who weren't involved, but if he was interrupted here, it could be a good way to vent. The pleasure of murder without having to think about the consequences, the next steps, and all that.

The work took him a couple of hours. At first, he tried with telekinesis, but he confirmed what he had already suspected. It was impossible to do it that way.

He had to control the grains of soil individually, so it was impractical. It required too much effort and energy.

That's why he had bothered to bring a shovel and gloves from the beginning.

Tedious work, tiring, but in the end, it would be worth it. He opened the coffin and flinched, despite himself, seeing that Evelyn's face was intact.

They had made sure she looked presentable, even though it hadn't been an open casket funeral. Maybe they had done it to preserve her dignity or some such nonsense.

So many meaningless rituals in the name of the dead, when in reality they were only for the benefit of the living. Well, he shouldn't complain too much, it wasn't really that bad.

He had smashed her head, but now he could almost see the pain and fear in her eyes in the last moments. Almost, surely it was just an optical illusion, what he wanted to see. But that was enough.

Sam smiled at the corpse.

"Hello, Evelyn." His voice faded into the darkness of the night without going far.

In any case, there was no one who could hear them. It was a private moment, like the one they had shared up there, on the rooftop. The most intimate moment he had had with any person.

He remembered her eyes as she fell. The fear, the understanding.

The terrible resignation.

Sam jumped into the hole, crouched in the wet, freshly disturbed earth to give her a kiss on her cold lips. It should be like kissing a stone, but the act caused him a pleasant tingling.

Then he pulled back, separating his lips, and burst open her chest with the shovel to take out her heart. He ruined his clothes, but it didn't matter. He had given Annabelle another small task. To prepare a change of clothes for him.

He wasn't worried about her suspecting; no one had to know what had happened here tonight.

Even if he did it magically, sooner or later he had to risk her suspecting, knowing too much. Otherwise, he couldn't take full advantage of his influence over her. The lives of her mother and younger siblings depended on Sam. He was sure Annabelle would place her family on the right side of the scale. People were like that; strangers were numbers, the vague idea of a person. When it came down to it, people chose their own, those who really existed for them.

Sam took a deep breath, feeling Evelyn's heart pulsing in his hands. To remove it from her chest, his brute strength hadn't been enough; first, he had cut some valves with a knife, loosening it, so to speak.

He was many things, but not a cannibal. He wouldn't exactly enjoy this.

But he would do what he had to do without hesitation, without thinking twice. He wasn't a weak-willed person who constantly looked back, wondering if he was really doing the right thing.

He was a winner.

So he devoured the heart on his knees in the wet earth of that poor girl's grave, smiling with blood-soaked teeth.

——

Sam reburied her, taking a five-minute break to catch his breath only when his legs started shaking and he thought he might faint if he continued like this. He was burning with desire to set his plan in motion. The obvious victims were Evelyn's parents. Who else would care enough to suffer hallucinations from grief? Now that he had gotten Ivor out of the way, of course.

At first, he thought about taking off his blood-stained clothes and leaving them in the coffin with her, but he soon changed his mind. If someone happened to dig her up for whatever reason, it would be too good a clue that he was the murderer.

But the more pressing reason, to be honest, was that he didn't feel like returning to the mansion in his underwear at all.

It was a dark and cold night.

Satisfied with his work, Sam shook the dust off his pants and went back the way he came, shovel in hand, of course, he didn't forget it.

He still hadn't tried to transform into Evelyn, but he knew he would be able to.

Human beings were nothing more than animals with pretensions, after all. There was no logical reason why he shouldn't be able to. Speaking of logic, it should be easier to acquire another human form than to transform into a completely different animal.

Besides, he felt it. There was that supernatural instinct that told him he could do it.

He had no reason to doubt it. These powers were his. Not Satan's or anyone else's, just his, period.

His legs hurt by the time he returned to the mansion; he wasn't used to so much exercise. If he had known how much it would cost him to dig up the corpse, he would have seriously considered risking letting Annabelle do it for him.

Before entering the mansion, Sam plunged into a nearby river to minimize the possibility of going around leaving traces of blood.

Then he climbed up the wall to his room window; in the end, he was going to get used to it, to find it more natural than entering through the door like a normal person. Well, he thought, I'm not even a person.

He was a demon, and once again he had gotten away with it, desecrating the grave of a person he had violently murdered a few days ago to eat her heart, after attending the funeral and pretending to be grieving under the rain and the dark umbrella.

Sam laughed with pleasure as he changed into the clothes that Annabelle had prepared for him, washed, ironed, and neatly folded.

Then he got rid of the blood-stained rags by throwing them into the fireplace flames.

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 16: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 17: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 17

Sam looked at himself in the mirror.

He didn't see himself, but Evelyn. He already knew he could do it, with the same naturalness as transforming into a body or more, but there was nothing wrong with testing it first.

Besides, he had a certain curiosity. He touched his breasts.

"Well, if I didn't have better things to do, I would thoroughly explore this body," Sam stopped. "What man hasn't thought about that once or twice?"

Well, it's not like he was very interested in other people, but he supposed it was common.

It was strange to speak and hear a woman's voice.

Not as much as the sacks of flesh hanging from his chest, or the absence of what should be hanging between his legs. But strange.

Not everything was a competition.

Before Violet or Christina burst in (he had learned, fortunately without dire consequences, that both had a copy of the key to his room), or even Annabelle, severely complicating his plans, Sam regained his original form.

Sam knew that patience was a virtue, especially when you intended to become a full-fledged serial killer (three victims were too few to be considered that yet, although there wasn't much difference). Not even the devil himself had imposed a time limit on him, but he didn't want to wait until nightfall.

Unlike his second murder, he knew the targets. He had seen them at the funeral. Naturally, it had been difficult to overlook the people receiving so many condolences. Distinguishing them from Ivor's parents hadn't been very hard.

For starters, Lord Wright, Blake Wright, hadn't accepted any condolences.

He had kicked Ivor out of this family, and that was his final word on the matter. The official story that the boy had committed suicide hadn't produced any sympathy in him. At least he didn't show it to the outside world.

The point is that he knew his targets, he had a plan, why should he wait?

Although it would be easier under the cover of darkness, he decided he would attack in broad daylight.

All he had to do was look for an opportunity and know how to recognize it when it came. No, he also had the tools to create a good opportunity, none of that passive stuff.

He had the power, the control.

He just had to prove it again.

He left the room full of determination.

At first, he had thought that perhaps he shouldn't go after Evelyn's parents, after all.

It was crueler to leave them dead in life, tormented by the fact that their daughter had died too young and horribly. Like empty shells. Not to mention it would be less predictable. Parents starting to hallucinate their dead daughter, crazy with grief. That was something even natural.

But realistically, it was the best way.

It wouldn't be as effective with other people, at least now that he had gotten Ivor out of the way, and it would be suspicious if someone who didn't have a particularly special connection with Evelyn started hallucinating her. Anyone would doubt their sanity after seeing a dead person, even in this world of magic, but it wouldn't be the same. Besides, they might suspect. They might get too close to the truth.

It had to be her parents, even if it meant putting them out of their misery. He would have preferred to leave Ivor rotting in some sanatorium with his regrets, turning his head until he convinced himself he was crazy, but that's how things were.

He had to be practical. Not everything could be fun, this was also business.

A succession ritual, that's what Satan had called it. He would prove to him that he was the perfect heir. He, a human, ironically, instead of a demon. And, of course, he wouldn't be content with just what he was willing to give him. It wouldn't be proper for the son of the devil.

Evelyn's parents. Nero and Kyrie. Maybe now they thought they would be better off dead, but Sam would torment them until they understood the true meaning of wishing for death.

With a smile on his face, Sam sprang into action.

——

Kyrie's heart stopped. It wasn't a metaphor. It stopped long enough for it to start hurting, for only a few threads of consciousness to remain, the darkness that sank her into unconsciousness or death covering her vision. But in the end, it started beating again.

Slowly and painfully.

Because she had seen something that couldn't be there.

"Evelyn?" she asked in a quiet voice.

It was impossible for the apparition to be real, but it didn't disappear. It was standing in the middle of the hallway as if nothing had happened, staring back at her. As if the last few days had been nothing but a nightmare. How many times had she wished for that? But now that the possibility was within her reach, she couldn't believe it so easily. She couldn't accept it just like that.

She took a step forward. Evelyn, or whatever it was, didn't move. She was going crazy. She must have lost her mind.

What mother wouldn't lose her mind after losing her only daughter?

In any case, it couldn't be what it seemed. Something so wonderful couldn't be true, could it? She swallowed and ran towards her with outstretched arms. Only then did it move, turning around and fleeing, much faster than her.

Why?

She found it hard to believe that she was hallucinating all of this, but if it was Evelyn, she wouldn't run away from her. Her little girl would run into her arms. What was happening, what did it mean? In any case, when she turned the corner, there was nothing but an empty hallway. All the other adults were at the family conference and the younger ones generally tried not to bother, and not to get involved in these matters.

Of course it was so empty, and of course she hadn't seen Evelyn. She was dead. Dead.

"Oh my God." Kyrie fell to her knees, bringing her hands to her mouth to stifle her sobs. Tears made the world blurry and distant. Even more distant than it seemed since her world had lost all light and color it might have ever had. "Oh my God."

Kyrie cried bitterly, trembling on her knees.

She had excused herself from one of the many meetings of this endless family conference. Kyrie's mind was sharp, sharper than her husband's. She had saved several of their businesses from financial ruin, although he had taken all the credit. Naturally.

However, today was different. Her mind had lost its sharpness. She couldn't handle the family meeting, so many hypocrites pretending civility while planning to stab others in the back, or push them to their death from the heights.

Today she had barely been able to get out of bed.

So she had decided she needed to take a break. What a cruel joke. She wanted to scream, she wanted to vomit. Evelyn had never been there. Of course, her only daughter was underground, buried forever in darkness.

Now her corpse would be being devoured by worms.

"Oh my God."

And as if it wasn't bad enough, Kyrie was no longer even able to trust her own senses. This was the first time she had hallucinated her daughter, but she doubted it would be the last. No wonder. She couldn't sleep and couldn't stop thinking about her, it was only natural.

Nothing changed when she staggered into the family conference room. Rather the opposite, millions of eyes piercing her like blades, looking at her as if they knew she was losing her mind, demanding that she calm down. As if her daughter wasn't dead. As if she herself wasn't more dead than alive.

Kyrie took refuge in her husband's arms. They had never had major problems, but they had never loved each other. A marriage of convenience like so many others. However, now he was the only person in the world who could understand even a fraction of what she was feeling.

Our daughter, she thought. Our little one.

"Has something happened?" Nero asked softly, returning the embrace.

"I saw her."

"Kyrie, she is..."

"I know. I know, but I saw her. I'm losing my damn mind."

Nero said nothing. Who would know what to say in a situation like this? He just hugged her tighter.

"Maybe we should suspend the family conference," someone said.

Kyrie knew her relatives perfectly well from going to the meeting year after year, but now she couldn't say who had spoken, even though the room had been silent until then.

Right now she wouldn't even recognize her own mother's voice.

"So many tragedies in a few days," they continued. "Chaos, confusion. I'm not sure it's worth it. Maybe it's a sign."

Whoever it was, she doubted that someone was helping her. If they wanted the family conference to end early this year, it was for their own convenience. The Wright family wasn't taught to cooperate. Not really, although they had to pretend to be a united front behind closed doors, behind the scenes they were like any noble family.

Lies, plots, and backstabbing. Over and over again. She had learned to live with it, but now Kyrie couldn't stand it.

Look at the Wrights gathered there and she could only wonder which of them had pushed her. Because part of her was convinced that it couldn't have been an accident, a mere coincidence. Even though at the same time she couldn't think of how that atrocious act could be of advantage to anyone. The family was such a cluster of evil that she didn't doubt it for a second.

Maybe she needed to believe that it hadn't been a mere accident, that she still had something to do in this world. Expose the culprit, kill them with her own hands. Maybe she was right. In any case, she couldn't stand any of this.

So much falsehood, so many vile people. It wasn't worth it. None of this family should be inherited, everything should burn in hellfire and disappear from this world without a trace.

People began to talk, too many voices to make much sense of, even if she had the will to make the effort. Her head hurt even more than before. She wanted to be anywhere but here, so many words filling the air and not a single truth.

But at the same time I don't want to leave the place where my little girl died, I know. Not yet.

Lord Blake Wright silenced the voices, gently tapping the floor with his cane. He didn't need to raise his voice or make some grandiose gesture to ensure he was heard. I suppose that was the true meaning of having authority. That everyone was hanging on your words and your actions, any message you had for them.

"We're not going to end anything," Blake said, and no more would be said about it. "The family conference is an annual event for a good reason. It's difficult for us to get together, but it's necessary. We're not going to postpone anything because of a few unfortunate events."

For a moment Kyrie saw herself lunging forward to kill that son of a bitch or die trying. A few unfortunate events, as if it meant nothing. It may for you. For you, but for me that was everything. Her mind's eye redrew the state of the corpse. The fleeting glimpse that had almost killed her.

Kyrie managed to contain herself. Blake Wright probably deserved to die too, but she didn't care for one simple reason. He couldn't be her daughter's killer. He had nothing to gain from it, it was completely ruled out, without a doubt.

All the parasites in this room were the ones trying to gain something from him, after all.

Since in this mansion his word was law, the family conference resumed. Like starving jackals, they began to make an infernal noise gathered around the table, in the center of which was the feast. The prize for which they would all kill each other. Just Blake Wright's position, when they all had wealth to spare.

Kyrie brought her hands to her head, closing her eyes.

They were all better off dead. Not just her.

But not yet, she thought.

Kyrie Wright was a ghost with unfinished business.

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 17: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 18: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 18

Kyrie saw something slip under the door as she was preparing to go to bed. A white, neatly sealed envelope. She clicked her tongue. Whatever it was, it couldn't be anything good. She had no interest in getting involved in a power play.

So she was going to throw it in the trash without reading it, but something compelled her to open the envelope. With trembling hands.

It read as follows: You know who I am. Come see me in the common room when the clock strikes midnight.

She licked her lips. You know who I am. She wasn't so out of it, so sleep-deprived, to jump to the idea that her dead daughter had written her a letter. But someone wanted her to meet them in the cemetery where her daughter had been buried. All the possible culprits had heard about her hallucination, she had had no reservations, it hadn't been possible while she was falling apart.

There was no doubt. This letter had to be from her daughter's killer. She tore the letter to pieces. She threw the pieces out the window, letting the wind carry them away.

"No. I don't know who you are, you son of a bitch, but I'll find out and I'll tear your heart out."

Her husband came out of the bathroom and they got into bed, turned off the lights. But she didn't close her eyes. Anyway, she could barely fall asleep even when she tried. She waited lying down, looking at the ceiling, for Nero to fall asleep. She wasn't able to sleep well, but he slept as always. As if nothing had happened.

She knew it was unfair. She knew that didn't mean it didn't hurt him, and that he hadn't seen the body, but sometimes she hated him for it anyway. She didn't want to hate him. He was the only person she had left in this world full of jackals, the only person who could understand her. But sometimes she did.

In the end, Nero fell asleep before the clock struck midnight. If he hadn't, it wouldn't have been difficult to find an excuse to go out for a while. Nero wouldn't question it. He usually didn't, but now especially not.

She slipped out of bed and the room carefully so as not to wake him. He had the right to revenge too. She was as much his daughter as hers, but if a mother aching with grief didn't have the right to be selfish, no one did. Kyrie approached the living room, ready to fight. The clock struck midnight just as she opened the door.

The magical energy was gathered at her fingertips, ready to explode, but it didn't go anywhere, it dissipated without doing anything. Because she was there.

Sitting on the couch, wrapped in the shadows of the night.

She was there, as if everything had been nothing more than a bad dream.

"Hello, mom."

Kyrie trembled from head to toe. This couldn't be real, a small voice desperate to believe it, vulnerable, told her. Could she really be hallucinating not only her image, but also her voice?

The ghost approached her softly. Her footsteps made no noise, but she could hear her breath.

Kyrie swallowed. Common sense told her that she couldn't be there. Not even magic could resurrect the dead, and ghosts didn't exist. However, everything was too real. Evelyn stopped close to her. She could even feel her breath on her skin, for God's sake.

"I understand that you're scared, mom," Evelyn said, "but it's me. I'm here. Look."

She extended a hand to touch her cheek. Kyrie trembled under her touch as if it burned her with an otherworldly cold. But she was definitely there, she existed.

"My daughter..."

She didn't cry. She had already shed too many tears, and anyway, she was too surprised to react. The world was swaying around her. The only thing she could think clearly was that this was her chance. If it was her, here were the answers she was looking for.

Her daughter stepped forward and hugged her. Strangely, the only warmth she felt was the illusory sensation that she had been stabbed in the chest. The world wasn't swaying, it was her who was doing it. Kyrie clenched her jaw as if trying to maintain control.

"What happened? What's going on here? I don't understand. Am I crazy, am I going crazy? And if I'm not, what...? I don't understand anything."

She babbled like an idiot, trembling from head to toe. Slowly and after a while, very gently, as if not to hurt her, Evelyn broke the hug.

"That's why I'm here, Mom. To explain things to you. I'm dead, but God has allowed me to cling a little longer to this world to explain things. I didn't fall, mom. I was pushed."

Those words left her breathless, like a punch to the stomach. She fumbled to grab the armrests of one of the sofas to avoid ending up on the floor.

"I suspected it." Yes. The confession had almost knocked her down, despite the fact that she already suspected it. But suspecting and knowing were very different things. She was living with her daughter's killer. Somewhere that son of a bitch was sleeping peacefully. How could it not make her lose her balance? "Who was it?"

"It was Nero."

"What?"

Evelyn frowned.

"Don't you believe me?"

"No, no, it's not that. You're the most important person to me, the only one I care about, it's just that I don't understand. Why would he do that?"

Evelyn nodded.

Then she brought her mouth to her ear and told her the truth.

She wasn't sure how she didn't faint on the spot.

She didn't want to believe it, but it was her daughter's appearance. Her smile, her voice. How could she deny it? This miracle. She couldn't spit on the miracle of this reunion by refusing to listen.

"That son of a bitch, all this time..." Her teeth were chattering. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Evelyn smiled with a deep sadness that broke the last pieces that remained of her heart.

"Because I was afraid. Because I thought he would love me. Because I dreamed that someday he would stop. But that's why he pushed me, he knew I was finally going to tell you everything."

"That monster."

She remembered hugging her today and many other times. She remembered every kiss, every intimate moment, in and out of bed. And she felt like vomiting up her own stomach. She didn't feel alive at all, but like a straw doll without stuffing.

She too was atrociously repulsive for not having realized in time. Evelyn shouldn't have had to tell her anything. She should have known. She should have noticed her daughter's pain.

My little one, my only daughter. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

"I'll kill him."

"Yes, you must kill him so we can rest in peace."

"We?"

"I know it perfectly, mom. You died with me. When you finish the job, you can follow me. That way we'll always be together. Wouldn't that be beautiful?"

Evelyn had always had a penetrating gaze, but now it really seemed that she could see through her. She was nothing but an open book for her and, damn it, why not? Who could know her better than her own daughter? She had nothing else. No siblings, no parents, not anymore. And friends, well...

Friends always looked for something, and the relationship with Nero had always been one of convenience, no matter how well they had tried to carry it.

In short, Evelyn was all she had. She always had been.

"I'll kill him," she repeated, kissing her on the forehead. "And I'll make him suffer. Don't worry."

But she wasn't in a hurry, deep down. She didn't want to break the hug. She didn't want to separate from her. She didn't want to stop seeing her.

The promise of reunion on the other side was fine, but it wasn't enough for her here and now.

Again, if she didn't have the right to be selfish, who did?

Evelyn smiled, caressing her cheek.

"Now close your eyes for a few seconds. It's time for me to leave. I'm sorry, I wish I could stay longer."

Kyrie swallowed. It was too soon, but deep down she was aware that she should be grateful for every second. The goodbye had come when her head burst against the ground. The farewell hymn had been the sound of her blood gushing and staining the fountain water red.

This was a miracle and although miracles existed, they didn't last.

So Kyrie closed her eyes softly. She wanted to scream don't go when she stopped feeling her arms around her, when their fingers separated, but she managed to keep quiet. Just a few seconds. Evelyn took a step back.

Just a few seconds. So Kyrie couldn't resist opening her eyes.

She opened them in time to see a white dove flying out the door, getting lost in the dark night.

Like a shooting star.

Evelyn, of course, was nowhere to be found.

——

As soon as she left the room, the dove took flight. It landed on the rooftop and, of course, took the form of a young man.

Of Sam Wright, sitting there with his legs crossed and his demonic yellow eyes burning like hellfire.

It had taken a lot for him not to burst out laughing, but finally everything had gone perfectly.

——

Nero woke up with a start.

"What's wrong, honey?"

That was good because she wanted him awake. The knife she had taken from the kitchen gleamed under the moonlight filtering through the windows. She could have done it with her magic, but it wasn't enough to send him to hell. It had to be personal. Painful.

It had to be...

Nero screamed.

But not as much as she did.

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 18: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 19: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 19

Of course, so much screaming woke up a good part of the mansion, and the commotion as they came out to see what the hell was going on this time woke up the rest, or almost all of them.

Those in the neighboring rooms were the first to arrive.

Yes, obvious, but it wasn't so natural. Anyone would have thought twice. Maybe they were still half asleep and without time to think about it. In any case, they woke up as soon as they opened the door to Kyrie and Nero's room and saw what was inside.

One of the men, Luke Wright, turned around immediately, bringing his hands to his mouth. He left the room stumbling, each step splashing something, his mind trying not to realize it was blood, he had stepped in a huge pool of blood.

Or maybe his mind was just completely occupied by 'that' image.

In any case, he fell to the floor as soon as he crossed the threshold, losing his balance and vomited on his knees. Violently. Trembling from head to toe.

Another of the men lunged at Kyrie, pulling her back, trying to take the knife away from her. One of the women stepped forward to join that guy, trying to reach the knife, without thinking.

Like everyone present and surely everyone who would enter the room later, she would like to say that her mind was blank, but nothing could be further from the truth.

"Kyrie, stop! Why did you do that? Why the hell?"

Kyrie still wouldn't stop screaming, clinging to the blood-soaked knife as if her life depended on it, fighting against the grip with all her strength.

If she were in her right mind, she would have simply used magic to immobilize her captor.

Anyway, none of those present were in their right mind. Why? Well, because 'that' was Nero's mutilated body. He had no pants on. And between his legs there was nothing but a river of blood. What should have been between his legs was covering his mouth.

They were all protected, pampered nobles, no matter how tough they thought their lives were. But even if it were otherwise, nothing would have changed. It simply wasn't common. No one was used to seeing something so grotesque, if one could get used to it.

Dan, the man who was holding Kyrie and containing her for now, wondered how he hadn't fainted as soon as he saw it. He wondered how he was able to put strength in his grip. He wondered how he hadn't vomited like Luke.

He wondered why the hell he had to get out of bed and see this grotesque nightmare.

"I don't understand." The woman, Alice Wright, took the knife from her. And she dropped it immediately, unable to bear holding the tool with which that had been done. "You were so close, I don't understand anything... Why did you do it?"

Kyrie suddenly stopped screaming.

Her throat was probably too sore to keep screaming. Her head fell forward at the same time as her arms and legs lost strength, becoming flaccid.

It was as if she had become empty.

"I should have done it a long time ago."

"What are you saying?"

More people arriving. Screaming, fleeing, reacting to the horror. The sound of tears. The sound of people expelling everything they had in their stomach. The sound of people almost choking on the overwhelming smell of blood.

It was chaos, and you had to shout just to be heard.

"I'm saying that this bastard raped my little girl and killed her to silence her! I'm saying I did exactly what I had to do, cut off his fucking dick and his damn neck!"

She wasn't empty. She still had plenty of energy left. An inhuman rage was feeding her.

Nobody knew what to say.

Nobody among the few who heard her in the first place, because most only had eyes for the corpse, even after they looked away and tried to erase the memory.

Among them were Dan and Alice, of course.

Kyrie took advantage of that moment to throw Dan backwards against the wall and pass by Alice, who reacted too late to be able to grab her.

They had taken the knife from her, but she had never needed that weapon. Not when she had magic like the rest of the family, more powerful or weaker, none of them needed weapons to be fucking dangerous.

So this wasn't over.

That was the prevailing thought in the room. In Dan's mind, who was trying to stand up and failing. In Alice's mind, who had been paralyzed.

And in the minds of those who left the room and shouted for her to come back, to stop.

But they were wrong.

Everything was over.

——

"I did it for you, Evelyn. Now there's nothing tying me to this world. Now we can be together forever."

There was ecstasy in her voice.

Why not? At last she could leave this hellhole and go with her daughter to a better place, a place where there was no fear or pain. Being honest with herself, her faith had never been particularly strong, but now everything was different.

Because she had seen her daughter.

Now she knew there was something more, something better. She knew it with certainty.

So Evelyn stepped forward.

The rope tightened around her neck as she fell.

The decapitation was instantaneous, but not death. She hadn't been prepared for that. Neither for the fall to decapitate her, nor to die instantly after something like that. The head fell to the ground, rolled leaving behind a thick trail of blood, and stopped in a way that she could see the rest of her body hanging from the rope that was tied to one of the arms of Lord Wright's statue that crowned the fountain that had been filled with her daughter's blood.

But only for a few seconds.

——

"Incredible." Satan laughed. "It shows that you're my son."

"Actually, I wanted to take it more slowly, torment them until they wished to die, but I became impatient. Although after all I think this is better. And it's not like I just did it to amuse myself. Now the official story has become much more convoluted."

First Ivor had fallen, for accidentally killing Jaiden. He was suspicious due to his jealousy. Then there was Kyrie, who had screamed what she had been told at the top of her lungs, in view of everyone (it was to be assumed that she would say it to justify herself when the others had pounced on her, trying to stop her, but also because she knew it).

So Nero, whose dick she had cut off as punishment for his alleged crimes, was also a possible culprit.

But at the same time it could be that the woman was simply crazy.

That she had lost her head very quickly after her daughter's death.

For now everyone was interpreting what happened as isolated incidents. No one even suspected that there was a real killer on the loose. He was building the perfect cover piece by piece, without knowing how it was going to end. But that mattered much less to him than the process of building it.

Never in his whole life had he had so much fun.

Sam laughed.

He had contained himself enough, so he deserved to give himself a reward. His eyes burned like the flames of hell. The laughter rose from the pit of his stomach and made his whole body shake. Sam let himself fall backwards, onto the bed, like a child.

Yes. It really was like a child's laughter, without a trace of evil.

If one closed their eyes, it might seem innocent, pure.

If they closed their eyes. Because otherwise that someone would see his smile that was all teeth, like a shark's smile.

This was his element, the waters he was destined to swim in. After so many years of searching, he had found them.

And he wasn't going to stop, he wasn't even going to look back for a second. How could it be otherwise? How could he let the only thing he had found escape?

He had a long road ahead, but for the first time in his two lives he felt like a complete person.

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 19: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 20: I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 20

He slept peacefully, dreaming of the ocean.

Before giving the explanation to Satan, he had gone out like everyone else to see what the hell was happening.

Well, that's it, so as not to stand out. Even Rose, who seemed to hate the attention she received, covered his eyes and asked him to leave, to go back to bed.

So he did and slept like a baby.

He should have imagined that the next morning wouldn't be so pleasant. To begin with, at least, someone burst into the sanctuary of his room with a bang. Someone who evidently had the position to go around this mansion slamming doors without worrying about the consequences, which there would be even for annoying a child like him. So he imagined it before seeing her.

There weren't many options.

"Oh. Good morning, mother. What are you doing here so early?" Sam took the risk of speaking casually with her, knowing that given the circumstances he could justify the slip (if it was one) by saying forgive me, I'm still more asleep than awake.

Mary had a strange expression on her face, as if it was the first time in years she had seen him. And as if she couldn't care less.

She hadn't been so expressive at the funeral.

To be fair, there had been one funeral after another, it had been endless. And very soon there would be two more.

"Well, what can I say," Mary said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Come to see my son, see how he is, what else, Sammy?"

Sam frowned for a tenth of a second. He didn't like that, but he would have to tolerate it.

There were two possibilities. The other Sam liked his mother calling him that way and insisting otherwise wouldn't exactly raise suspicions, but it would seem strange to her, and he didn't like it anyway.

The other possibility was that the other Sam didn't like it either, but since it was his mother he had no choice.

In any case, he decided that the best thing was to shut the fuck up.

"So many tragedies are happening lately that I can't help but worry." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, sitting there on the bed, with her hands on the edges. For some reason she was blushing. "After what happened to Ivor, you know, Violet convinced me to leave you alone, that was the best thing..."

Ah, that's why it took her so long to come see me, he thought.

Sam tensed slightly. There were many things he wished he knew or could remember, even if it was behind the filter of a different person's consciousness. One of the few things he knew for certain, although he did what he could to increase the list, was that Violet loved him.

In that case, why would she try to keep his mother away from him after what she perceived as him almost being murdered?

There had to be a reason. Jumping to the worst motives would be as stupid as assuming there was nothing. It could be something as innocent as her being an overprotective mother, like most mothers, and not wanting her to overwhelm him. It could be, yes, although that would probably be sinning on the optimistic side. He would be attentive, trying to figure it out subtly.

"But I needed to come see you," Mary finished at last. "You're my son, after all. Come here."

Sam approached, allowing her to hug him. Then, thinking better of it, he forced himself to return the hug. It's not that he had had such a bad life that he wasn't used to a mother's hug, but this woman wasn't his mother. Anyway, he had to play his part. Anything was more important than the life he had left behind. He had died and all that had disappeared, and that's how it should stay.

A part of him missed it sometimes, but well...

That part of him was a dead man.

Obviously they were the same person, but there was no need to waste more time on that.

"First Evelyn, then that madman tries to kill you and blame you, and now this." Mary shook her head. "I can't imagine what you're going through. You liked her, didn't you? Knowing that her father..."

She realized she had messed up and looked away.

"Yes, it's not... pleasant, of course." Sam took a deep breath. More carefully chosen words, his mind working at a thousand miles an hour. These were the worst parts of his new life. The ones he wasn't good at. Well, not exactly. So far he had avoided messing up completely, so clearly it was enough. But he didn't enjoy it, so it drained his energy pretty quickly, compared to everything else. "But there's nothing I can do now. Not for her or for her mother."

Mary slowly broke the hug.

"I don't know if that's very mature of you or just worrying. Anyway, don't forget that I'm your mother, Sammy, and I'm here for you. No matter what." She put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

Sam received a flash of inspiration.

"Because I'm the favorite?"

"Because you're my son," she replied without thinking twice, and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"It's true. I know you're on my side, I'm sorry."

Mary sighed.

"Yeah. Your father, well, your father has turned out like your grandfather. Sometimes I wonder if he's human."

If you knew you were talking to a real inhuman being, he thought. A real killer without scruples.

He hadn't gotten much with that calculated response, but the mention of the grandfather was interesting. When he had some free time he would try to find information about him.

"Anyway, I'll leave you alone, Sammy, you just woke up and I'm already bothering you." Despite what she had just said, she put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair. He didn't like anyone touching his hair. He couldn't contain a grimace of disgust, although he erased it after a few seconds.

"You never bother me, mom."

Mary smiled.

"You're very kind."

He didn't know how to take that, so he said nothing, just in case. The woman left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Although not for long. Sam got dressed, preparing for the day and went out too. He didn't have a goal, but he had ideas and a fervent desire to kill. During the family conference everything else was put on hold. That's why no one had bothered him to attend class, sessions with private tutors, or whatever.

So those his age could sit around doing nothing, just waiting, having fun for a change.

But he had a mission.

And a time limit, it was obvious. For some reason Satan hadn't told him directly, hadn't pushed him to hurry, but you didn't need to be a genius to realize that this period of time, starting with his birthday, was perfect for massacring the Wright family. The only time of the year when everyone was gathered.

Satan wasn't pressuring him to do something that should be advantageous to him. The most logical and simple answer is that somehow it wasn't advantageous, actually.

Sam needed the power that awakened with the murders to fulfill his dreams, to rise up. And maybe that was the problem. Satan didn't want him to become too strong.

But he wasn't going to do what he wanted, he wouldn't be his damn toy.

Even if it had to be a self-imposed time limit, the Wright family would be dead by the time the family conference ended.

For the sake of his future, his new life, he would achieve it.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" He didn't recognize that person's voice. The Wright family was too big. In any case, it was worth taking a look.

He followed the voice and grabbed the balcony railing, leaning forward.

The man was standing at the entrance, dressed in black from head to toe, including a trench coat. At the very least none of the men and women present in the lobby recognized him.

In any case, it was a nuisance. Strangers shouldn't interfere in this. It would only complicate things.

"I was hired by the master of this mansion," the stranger said.

Someone asked him for what. What an idiot, it should be obvious at this point, with everything that had happened in a few days. Sam wasn't worried. While it was true that he hadn't expected this to happen so soon, it was evident that sooner or later it would occur. There was no point in complaining about what he couldn't control, anyway.

The only thing he could do was get rid of the problem as soon as possible.

Sam descended to the landing in the middle of the staircase.

"Hello, detective," Sam greeted him, smiling like a little angel, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass window behind him framing his silhouette.

The detective raised his head to look him in the eyes. He took off his hat, resting it against his chest with one hand. His smile was fake, completely forced. Well, what a snake.

"Well, at least there's someone who's glad I'm here."

I Am The God of Hellfire, Part 20: END