Rendil enjoyed flight over the tropical landscape before spotting the great Gates ahead. He landed, bowed his head slightly in greeting to the guards, and showed his pass. He entered, eager to soar above the rooftops and see the Silver City from the sky for the first time.

  He beat his wings and rose into the clouds. The view was breathtaking. A high wall formed a silvery circle, with eight massive Gates set into its inner side, though only three were open. From above, it was clear the entire metropolis floated among the clouds, with a Central Tower rising at its heart, next to which the Celestial Tree glowed. Rendil imagined what it would be like when all the Gates reopened and the Light shone at full strength.

  He landed by the Tower, then paused at the Swords of Azazel. After a moment of admiration, he turned and headed for a moving platform to meet his friend. In the central plaza, he spotted Metatron standing on a pedestal, writing something. Rendil stood before him and waited. After a long moment, he cleared his throat gently. Metatron looked up and fixed him with a gaze as deep as the night sky. A smile appeared on his face.

  “Well, well, Captain, congratulations,” Metatron remarked. “Have you come to finish your studies?”

  “I have five years for it!” Rendil boasted.

  “Yes, I know. Who do you think helped arrange your pass?” Metatron stepped forward and gestured for him to join. “You know the basics, but you should learn more about the ancient history of this place and those who play important roles here,” he said. “I’ll gladly provide you with all the resources you’ll need. You’ll find everything in this Library.”

  Rendil smiled, then asked: “What makes me so special? I’ve heard you rarely speak even with high angels.”

  Metatron’s smile widened. “You’re the prodigy captain, aren’t you? Surely I can be a little curious.”

  Rendil knew that wasn’t the whole truth. Angels were easier to read than they thought; after years here, he could read several of them quite well.

  “Come, let’s walk. What interests you most?” Metatron asked.

  “I’d like to know more about the Lords of Hell and their motives. Aamon is said to be a genius strategist. I need to learn more about him; it could help me in future encounters. I’m also curious about what happens to souls in Hell, and details about the archangels; their personalities, who they really are. It’s a lot.” he said, shaking his head.

  Metatron nodded in understanding. “Yes, it’s certainly too much for five years, but let’s make the most of it! I arranged a captain’s residence for you near the Tower; not that it matters much, since you can fly here in a moment, but it’s still better to be close than far, right?” He looked at him.

  Rendil smiled and agreed.

  “You don’t have to come from below; you can fly in through the upper entrance for angels.” Metatron nodded upward.

  “I like coming from below, the Swords there are amazing,” Rendil replied.

  Metatron asked, a note of curiosity in his voice. “They attract you, hmm?”

  “Definitely, I always like to look at them,” Rendil admitted.

  “In that case, it’s up to you,” Metatron said. “While you’re here, maybe you shouldn’t spend all your time just studying. Go and look around the city. It can be inspiring.” He stopped.

  Rendil thanked him and went to his residence to rest after the flight and prepare for evening study.

  That night, he entered the Tower. It was almost empty, and he could take scroll after scroll undisturbed. He was most interested in the Lords of Hell; any information that might help him outwit them was priceless.

  Time passed, and Rendil read a great deal. One scroll described how Lucifer and other lords can still project their angelic forms and lure unsuspecting souls, who, unfortunately, still believe in them even today. He is a master of deception, the strongest among the fallen. He subjugated Abezethibou, who serves him on the ninth, lowest level of Hell: Pride. There he rules as absolute king and punishes his victims. The scroll also described another Demon Lord in Lucifer's service.

  So the rivals are on level of demon lords? They aren't even rulers?

  Memphistotes, who spends much of his time reaching into the mortal world in spirit form. He bargains for the souls of the unfortunate and influences world politics with calculated malice, extending Pride's reach far beyond Hell's gates.

  As he read, he drained his cup, elbow planted on the desk, fingers pressed against his brow in deep thought. The greatest evil himself. Luckily, I hadn't yet had the "pleasure" of meeting him.

  Aamon, a tall figure cloaked in a dark robe and hood, likes to wander the levels of Hell as a mysterious figure, using his power to bring factions under his influence or weaken them and send his spies where needed. He is a master of strategy and manipulation. He shares the fifth level with Abaddon, its current ruler, whom he serves devotedly. Together, they seek a way to destroy all existence. It’s rumored he’s Lilith’s father. The scrolls described how Aamon tried to gain as much control over the levels of Hell as possible, especially through Alocer, ruler of the legions and the strongest arm of their hive-mind. Through Alocer, Aamon could command them all.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Belial, Lord of Sloth, is described as a fat, bloated man sitting on a throne on the first level of Hell. He devours everything and everyone; his minions bring him victims he endlessly gulps down. In battle, he uses his disgusting body and bodily fluids, which can dissolve even the toughest armor.

  Beelzebub, resembling a giant, repulsive insect with disgusting fly eyes, incarnates Gluttony itself. Unlike Belial, he’s not satisfied with what’s brought to him; he flies over his kingdom himself and personally chooses his victims.

  Yes, eternal hunger. I’ve heard of that before; that’s why so many of them claw toward the Light, trying to satisfy a hunger that can never be filled.

  Asmodeus is the Lord of Lust, a powerful demon embodying desire, temptation, and seduction. His body is covered with dark purple, snake-like scales, and atop his head grow large horns resembling those of an impala. He has symmetrical features, short thick dark hair, and hypnotic serpent eyes that pierce and manipulate his victims. Known as a cunning tempter and seducer, Asmodeus weaves a web of lust and corruption, thriving on the chaos brought by unrestrained passion.

  The scroll confirmed Lilith has at least one daughter: Naamah. Other daughters are still only rumored: Agrat, Eisheth, and Mahlat. No one knows who their father is, but all are at the level of high demons on the fourth level and together seek to overthrow Asmodeus. The level of Lust is no dreamland for the lustful; it is a place of sexual torment, where the worst nightmares come true.

  He put the scroll down and stared forward in silence for a moment. Of all the levels, this one felt closest to the fate he might have earned, had he been only a little more careless, a little worse. The image of it twisted his stomach and left him uneasy. He picked the scroll back up and continued.

  The scrolls also described Azazel in detail. After turning to darkness, he defeated Leviathan and took over the sixth level of Hell. He became the hellish goat, a living symbol of Envy and of his hatred toward his heavenly brothers.

  Astaroth's reputation rests on his pale, corpse-like skin and a gaze that pierces to the deepest corners of the soul. His eyes are dark and empty, as if all Light he ever knew has gone out, and dark feathered wings adorn his back. He rides a giant dragon with a serpent tail, whose scales absorb Light and leave behind only cold and ruin. In his left hand, he holds a staff shaped like a serpent, a symbol of wisdom, temptation, and the eternal cycle of questions with no easy answers. Like Aamon, he values intellect, knowledge, and depth of mind; his power lies not in brute force, but in tactics and the ability to mutate his demons. His voice is cold and quiet. Both accuser and inquisitor, he twists philosophies to tempt souls into spiritual sloth, vanity, and deceit. His presence is always accompanied by a dark, oppressive feeling.

  As he shifted, his chair squeaked. He quickly turned and looked behind him, then laughed at himself. Even captains get jumpy reading about Hell's lords in an empty library at night. He shook his head, a thin, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips, then eased himself and returned to the lines before him.

  Baal commands the armies of Hell as the lord of war. His figure is massive and dark. His face has human features, frog eyes and skin, and a cat’s maw, each symbolizing a different aspect of his power: human cunning, frog ill omen, and feline cruelty. He is clad in black metal armor wreathed in hellfire and ancient runes. In his hand, he wields a scepter; his voice is deep and resounding; each word resonates like thunder and instills fear in the soul. His power lies in commanding armies, sowing chaos, and stirring up conflict. On the battlefield, his strategies and sudden strikes turn the tide in favor of darkness. His loyal demons are always ready to tear the enemy to pieces at his command. Baal personifies war frenzy, thirst for dominance, and eternal conflict.

  Among the nine lords, Mammon stands as the Prince of Greed, Lord of Wealth and all that glitters in the dark. His body is covered in golden scales and gemstones embedded in his skin as a perpetual reminder of all the treasures he has ever amassed. His eyes gleam with insatiable hunger, reflecting desire for property and power. Mammon’s figure is massive, resembling a giant lizard. His voice is sweet, honeyed, but every word carries the danger of a hidden trap. No one surpasses him in temptation; he offers wealth, fame, and power in exchange for loyalty or a soul. His power lies in his ability to stir insatiability, envy, and desire for ever more wealth in hearts. In his presence, inhibitions weaken and the desire for all things forbidden grows. Mammon is the embodiment of endless greed, eternal hunger for possessions, and the decay he brings.

  All of these Lords differed, just like the archangels, each with his own twisted traits, strengths, and weaknesses.

  It became clear to him they were not winning by sheer numbers alone; Hell had its own skilled strategists.

  Rendil had been studying for two years, and the days passed one after another. He gradually began to understand the connections and workings of the worlds. Metatron spent a lot of time with him, gladly clarifying uncertainties and sharing his own stories.

  One evening, as they walked outside, Rendil asked, “What happens if I lose my weapon? It happened to me before, but I always found it. If I hadn’t, what would have happened?”

  Metatron thought for a moment, stroking his white beard as he looked up. “The weapon would remain where it was for at least a day or two if no one claimed it. Then, just like our bodies, it would start to merge with the Light.”

  “If a guardian claims it, is it his?” Rendil asked as they walked on the marble floor.

  “As a guardian, yes, he can use it,” Metatron replied. “But when he merges it with his lumion, it becomes one with the Light again and then goes to its rightful owner.” His gaze turned to Rendil.

  “The Light creates weapons best suited for each of us, and you can’t wield weapons made from a stronger Light than your own.”

  “Why?” Rendil asked, his brow furrowing.

  “You can use it for a few strikes, but after a moment it would feel heavy and exhaust you. Demons, on the other hand, try to corrupt and devour our weapons, or use them to widen rifts. We can claim theirs too before they dissolve, but I don’t see much use for them, since ours are far stronger.” His voice resolute.

  Guess this shows that Light really is stronger than darkness.

  “I’ve heard Azazel tried to corrupt his weapons,” Rendil pressed.

  “Yes,” Metatron confirmed. “But in the end, we all know they rejected him. Weapons of archangels and high angels are different. I’ve never heard of any Lord managing to corrupt one.” his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

  As they walked, the golden accents on his purple robe stood out even more in the glow of their halos.

  “To your first question: if you lose yours, whether it gets devoured or you simply cannot find it, you can request a new one from the Light, and it will form another for you. But it costs a certain amount of energy, and we don’t waste that resource. So if possible, it’s better to find your own weapon.” A faint smile touched his lips.

  “Well, then I’d better not be lazy and make sure I go back for it. Sounds like a pretty expensive lost-and-found service,” Rendil joked.

  “Yes, it would indeed,” Metatron said as they kept walking through the silent avenues of the Silver City.

  ? Updates: Tue/Thu/Sat 18:00 CET ?