The Harvester

"…you are a slave driver," Astraea pouted as she swiped her hand over the white-silver flames, which mysteriously refused to harm her, raging above a certain crimson hill.

The werewolf who summoned her stood behind, his arms crossed and a blank expression on his face. "Didn't I literally give you a permanent manifestation and a friend to go with it?"

"Semantics! I was having fun when you unsummoned me to bring me here!"

"You're just lazy, aren't you?" Rakna retorted and she sulked. "More importantly, is there anything useful you can tell me about this?"

"It's indeed a Fiend's handiwork," she answered with a huff. "This one… seems to have all the signs to be Tarnished Death's," she hummed while playing with the Lunisolar Blaze.

"Tarnished Death?"

"There aren't many Fiends in Existence," Astraea added. "They're semi-immortal beings directly created by Timaiyin-Munti at the advent of Existence. All of them have their own names and their own powers, and as far as Egregore can reach, 11 of them are confirmed alive today."

"…and this is one of them?"

"Not exactly," she shook her head. "Tarnished Death died thirty thousand years ago. Its killer was called the Blood-Fallen Seraph; one of the strongest to ever live."

"Right," Rakna raised an eyebrow. "So, this is a recreation of that Fiend then?"

She pursed her lips for a second, "Well… I think? It's odd. This is not the kind of information I can discover by myself. But what I truly don't understand is how… genuine it is," she said and stepped back to stare at the mountain. "Tarnished Death wasn't a strong Fiend compared to the rest."

"It had the ability to corrupt anything and anybody, but those strong enough could resist. As such, it never managed to attain a powerhouse status. However, it still had the greatest known demonic army to have ever existed."

"And?" Rakna scowled. "Your point?"

"Well, Tarnished Death doesn't have, relatively, a lot of raw power, but it is a unique being. I would have pegged it more than possible to create an imitation of it on a basic level… but a recreation of its powers to this degree of fidelity is honestly shocking. Even for the System."

"…" Rakna squinted his eyes.

"But, at least, you're sure to have the advantage in this battle," Astraea caught a silver-white cinder in her hand. "Lunisolar Blaze… it's rare, but I know about it. With this, much less Tarnished Death, you can even out the playing field against any Fiend. They are the antithesis of Innate Order. They are the epitome of what these flames want to burn. However, at your level, it's not enough to harm them at the 'core'. For that… good old power is needed," she smiled in amusement.

"…one more question," the werewolf finally spoke up. "If I say the words; Outer, Puppet, Dreamer, Family, Lost, Sleep, and an extra one that felt as bad to hear as it was to read the Original Tongue for the first time; does it ring any bell?" He asked, but it was essentially rhetorical at that point.

The goddess' expression had instantly become concerned when she heard the first. Then worried when the second came. The third made her terrified and by the time he was finishing talking, she was pale as snow.

"T-the ashes… told you…?" She stammered and he nodded slowly. "D-did you manage to interpret what the last word was…?"

"No," Rakna grunted. "The 'noise' was a bit too distracting. Though, I feel like I could if I heard it a second time."

"Don't!" She immediately yelled. "You mustn't! Just the first time must have caught its attention! If you hear it properly, it will move for good!"

"What…?" He gazed at her with a small amount of worry; not for himself, but for her. She appeared horrified at the moment. "Astraea, what is 'it'?"

"You can't know!" She frantically shook her head and then turned around, staring at the mountain of the Fiend with a much different outlook. "That's why…! It's why this is so 'real'! The only way it could happen is for something exceedingly superior to have created it…"

"Astraea," Rakna lowered his voice with a frown. "If you don't tell me what you're talking about, it will only make it harder for the both of us."

"I can't!" She snapped. "If I do, it will know! I don't know how it will react, but you can't take the risk!" She took a deep breath and muttered one last thing, "We are in its Dream... Escape is not an option."

As she said that, a certain piece of information in Rakna's memory came to the forefront. A notion he had never assumed to be real. But before he could think more about it, Astraea approached him and grabbed his arm with both hands with an anxious face.

"Please… promise me you will never listen to the Ashes' Truth inside a Simulation again," she said with a strained tone. "And never, ever look back once a Scenario is over."

The werewolf silently looked back, his senses overcome with her fear and worry. He glanced at the demon city in the distance and after a moment, he opened his mouth, "…I promise."

* * *

"How was it?"

"…it could be worse. Astraea stayed behind to set up wards," Rakna answered Soma's question as they walked through the Demon Capital. "Our best option is to essentially quarantine it and throw everything we have at it in the hope it dies."

"…I see. If a Star Entity says it, I can only believe it," the Moon God nodded, aware of Astraea's true nature without even being told. "I must say, your Star Magic was never something we intended to create. It was quite a surprise when you developed that affinity."

"Hm… maybe I'm just that awesome," Rakna jested with a shrug.

"Haha, that does not sound like a bad explanation," Soma smiled, but even Rakna failed to notice the small flash of contemplation that passed through the god's eyes. "Hm… indeed," he whispered as they ended the conversation and stopped in front of the Demon King's castle.

Demons that had been purified and left in a severe state were being tended to in nearby buildings and the castle itself was serving as a massive med bay by express order of the King. Rakna spared a few seconds to exchange a look with Tarasque who was looming over the city.

"Sentinel," Lilith's voice sounded and the werewolf turned toward the demoness. He didn't have the time to say anything before she kneeled on one leg right in front of him. "Thank you. We owe you a debt we cannot repay in a lifetime."

She wasn't the only one. About five other demons seemingly of similar rank to her mirrored her actions and the passersby who weren't busy bowed in respect, with the wounded ones even trying to do the same only for their doctors or loved ones to push them down scoldingly.

"…" Rakna didn't react to any of it. He merely gazed at the six Demon Commanders with a pensive and almost empty look. Soma seemed to raise an eyebrow at that, but only he found it odd. "…you are welcome," the werewolf eventually said. "Don't take it to heart. I allowed you in the Shrine and helped you undo the seal. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I didn't clean up my own mess?"

"The initiative was ours," Lilith retorted smilingly and swiftly stood up. "That won't change."

Rakna snorted. "Right," he said blankly. "How's your king?" He changed subjects and the rest of the commanders stood up as well.

"Follow me," the demoness beckoned and led him into the castle. He grunted and mid-steps, he made his body revert to a human form once again, which caused more than a few stunned glances to go his way.

'Hm. My older self seems to be more handsome,' Rakna joked internally.

"{Don't let it get to your head now. After all, you will never be as beautiful as I,}" Fray laughed.

'Really? That sounds like a low bar.'

"{…I'm offended.}"

The therian snorted and then spotted Ramsa as they entered the throne room. She was leading the Sun-Dwellers as they treated the wounded. Out of the three races, they were by far the best healers.

Rakna walked past Lilith and climbed the stairs to the throne. The Demon King, a handsome man in his thirties with long black hair and red eyes, sat still while Ramsa maintained a magic circle of solar energy pointed at him with a frown on her face.

As soon as Rakna got close, the king opened his eyes and looked at him. "…welcome," he spoke without moving an inch. "I wish I could do more than sit here, but…"

"This idiot was beyond reckless," Ramsa finished for him with a huff. "At first, when we got to him, my preliminary judgment was that he had been battling a greater intensity of corruption. But upon looking closer, I found out he was actively doing something much worse," she narrowed her eyes at the man.

"…"

"He was sucking in the corruption force from the air of the entire capital. That's why this city had the least cases of corruption," the goddess said. "But if that was all, he would have already become another mindless drone. The important part is that he was detonating the demonic energy inside his body to destroy it. He did the same with pieces of his soul. The fool is half-dead; both spiritually and physically. He can't even move out of the posture he's in."

Rakna blinked in surprise. That was actually impressive. "Hm… I never got your name," he turned toward the demon, who grunted in response.

"Zikserth…"

The therian blinked. "Well, not sure I could spell that," he uttered and the royal demon let out an amused chuckle.

"You wouldn't be the first."

"Is his life in danger?" Soma asked his fellow Celestial.

Ramsa rolled her eyes with a huff. "Not anymore. And if we had time, I could bring him back to top shape within… a week, probably. Unless…" She eyed Rakna with an inquisitive look. "You help me. Can you replicate what you did to me?"

"Hm, sure," Rakna shrugged and flicked his wrist, somehow catching a card in between his fingers out of nowhere. He peeked at it and raised an eyebrow. "That's funny," he commented and tossed the card in Zikserth's direction. "[King of Hearts.]"

The card burst into purple and pink flakes of crystal the instant it collided with the demon's body. They were rapidly absorbed as fast as they appeared.

The king visibly lost his breath, and with widened eyes, he gripped the armrests of his throne even harder. There was definitely something incredibly powerful healing him, but due to the damage he had inflicted on himself, aggravated by a Fiend's energy of all things, it wasn't being done gently at all.

Ramsa stepped back while Zikserth continued to resist the pain of his body and soul being mended from the inside with merciless efficiency. Unlike her, the demon needed far more than just a small recovery in energy reserves and an 'antidote' to a 'poison'.

The other demons in the throne hall became tense at the sight, but Lilith waved them down, her eyes staring at Rakna's back with trust.

"Come on. Suck it up," the therian deadpanned and the king's eye visibly twitched.

He gritted his teeth and demonic energy burst out of his body in an amazingly controlled manner. It was like a multitude of ribbons connected to his heart and soul.

Rakna had to give it credit; Zikserth was a powerhouse at an equivalent or even stronger level than even Ramsa. He wasn't exactly sure how he compared to someone like Soma, but he certainly lived up to the title of Demon King.

And as one would expect, soon enough, he won the battle against the pain. He sighed on his throne and leaned back while Ramsa slowly lowered her arm and stopped her spell.

"Aah… happy, Sentinel?" Zikserth let out a tired smile, analytically clenching his fists. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"Passable," Rakna jested. "I'll be happier if you tell me you can fight."

"Hah," the demon chortled and slowly but surely stood up. His movements were laborious… but not for even a millisecond did he allow his body to tremble or stagger. "A world where I do not fight for my people does not exist."

Two auras briefly clashed in a burst of sparks and the Nine-Tailed Wolf's lips gradually curled into a grin while the people in the room watched dumbfounded, "Oh, I think we'll get along perfectly."

Meanwhile, Ramsa rolled her eyes, "Men…"