Abezethibou, the One-Winged Angel, was the prototype of sentient life made by the Malakeben in Beelzebub folklore. Born half-formed, it cursed his very creators, to the point of trying to destroy all the other creations in rebellion. For that, he was imprisoned in a water column in a foreign world to serve as example. Despite the belief the Beelzebub express on his existence, other Daemons prefer to believe Lilith was the first sentient being, she who birthed the Daemon via Samael, the holy he-goat highly revered by the Baphomet, the first species born from the union, and the Adrammelech, the second. She also birthed the humans in an adulterous affair with Adam in the world of Gaia.

Gamaliel: My love, don’t you think attacking those who created us is too disrespectful?

Sathariel: Why should we blindly respect our creators? The fact they created us does not the Malakeben holy, they still have to earn our respect like anyone else. Moreover, what they did after the original creation? They banned treading on their private land and hid themselves in the High Temple to never be found. And out there are people starving to death, children being molested and many other calamities and they do nothing. They don’t care for their creation, it’s us Daemons who have to fix up the mess. My father… my father wanted to give the reigns of fate to us.

Harab’s Left Head: *croak* Or he sought after the reigns of the world for himself. *croak*

As Harab’s right head hisses, his left arm smothers the amphibian mouth as the middle head stares at it with a censoring expression.

Sathariel: I guarantee it was not. Although lives were sacrificed to pave this road, many more were and will be saved when it is complete. A single country with a parliament representing all of Eretsaphir, that way battles will be avoided over conflicts of territory, resources and others. Unfortunately, the Land of Izanami loves tyrants and we’re left with no choice but to fight its troops. I hope that if we’re able to conquer Tanen, they’ll give up.

Golachab’s Right Head: “They”, melech? Don’t you mean “he”, Iemitsu Oni?

Sathariel: Despots like him are the last to abandon power. But he’ll be harmless if his people no longer fight for him.

A silence settles in the room, as if the generals asserted that their leader had his mind set with no turning back.

Sathariel: No more objections? Good, now I’ll tell you the first step of my plan: raise the numbers of our army to at least an hundred myriads. It might take a decade or two to reach it while maintaining the quality of our army, but if there’s anything that can conquer Tanen, it must be it. If you have nothing else to say, you’re dismissed. Thamiel and Isaac, meet me tomorrow in the first floor’s terrace over the inner courtyard of the Ward of the Sword Saint at the third Grand Hour.

Thamiel: Sure thing, melech.

Isaac: As you please, melech.



Ward of the Sword Saint, Sitra Achra,Land of Zeus
Fourteenth Day of Taurus, 15 years before the Fall

Surrounded by the terraces of 8 floors and with a sky view skewered by the Tower of Tzimtzum, the inner courtyard is filled with youngsters aspiring to be warriors, trying to stomp their training dummies and skeptics into the sandy soil. Two of them stand out compared to the others, the 12 years-old twin brothers Esau and Jacob Alastor, the two sons of Isaac. Although twins, they are easily distinguishable by their eyes, Esau having inherited his father’s golden eyes and Jacob his mother’s purple eyes. Their fighting skills are also significantly different: Esau brandishes a zweihänder and delivers powerful swings at his wooden adversary, while Jacob wields two short swords and prefers to strike the dummy on would-be vital points with agility.

On the closest terrace, Thamiel and Isaac join Sathariel, who has been watching his future soldiers for quite a while.

Sathariel: You’re both earlier than I asked. Good.

Thamiel: Of course, melech.

Sathariel: Quite the promising swordsmen you have as sons, Isaac. I’m anxious to see their full potential.

Isaac: As do I, melech.

Sathariel: What about your son, Thamiel? Cathariel, is he?

Thamiel: Yes, he’s 6 years-old now and seems to have a knack for magic, so he’ll enter the Ward of Shining Seraph later in a few months.

Sathariel: Good to know. Moving on, you two were awfully quiet yesterday. Have you nothing to say about my plan?

Thamiel: No, melech. You know you can count on me on every occasion as your father did, even if I have to forfeit my life to do so.

Isaac: I too served your father and he wanted me to serve you as well. The least I can do is to assist you without hesitations.

Sathariel: Thank you for your loyalty.

Sathariel takes a deep breath and looks at the sky.

Sathariel: As you know, my race has been plagued and I’m the only one left. Once I die my bloodline will be forever lost and so will the dream my father and I share… but I don’t want that to happen. That’s why I decided to make Esau, Jacob and Cathariel the heirs of my empire, which will become a triarchy. I hope they’ll inherit their fathers’ will and prove my own right.

Thamiel: I can’t thank you enough for your trust, melech.

Isaac: As truly honored as I am, melech, make only Esau and Cathariel your heirs. Jacob may be my son, but he’s a rascal and probably the last person to put in a position of power.

Sathariel: If that’s your wish, Isaac, it shall be so. Thamiel, you are dismissed. Isaac, make sure everything is ready for tomorrow’s trip to Litholeukos.

Isaac: As you wish, melech.

Both bow to Sathariel and leave. Sathariel looks back to the courtyard and decides to pay a visit to the apprentices. As he enters the courtyard, everyone bows in a hurry to their emperor except Jacob, who even turns his back and pretends nobody’s there. Sathariel starts to approach each apprentice, asking their name and giving a pep talk, leaving Esau and Jacob for last. Of the two brothers, Esau is the first to be approached, who stares awestruck at Sathariel as if Tav itself materialized in front of him.

Sathariel: Esau, is it?

Esau: Y-yes, melech.

Sathariel: You’re hitting your target quite hard, I dare say you already have the strength of some adults.

Esau: Thank you, melech. I’m training so I can serve you as my father does, melech.

Sathariel: Good to know. If you keep this performance up, you’ll go very far.

Satheriel pats on Esau’s shoulder, who ecstatically watches the emperor walk towards Jacob, who keeps ignoring Sathariel while practicing.

Sathariel: Jacob, is it?

Jacob answers with silent indifference. Sathariel smirks and snaps his fingers, causing the wooden dummy to be pulverized, leaving only a pile of dust as evidence*. Everybody looks surprised at the power of their leader.

*Beriah’s Word of Defeat: Existence Denial

Sathariel: Do I have your attention now?

Jacob finally turns to meet Sathariel face to face, while setting a glare to him.

Sathariel: Accompany me to the changing room. Now.

Jacob sighs while putting his swords back in the weapons’ rack. He walks to the changing room in front of Sathariel, opening the door to a division composed by pools of steaming water, showers of cold water and various cavities in the walls to keep the clothes of the apprentices. Jacob sits on a bench near a pool and Sathariel stands in front of him, with his arms crossed.

Jacob: What do you want?

Sathariel: Some manners would be a good start.

Jacob: What do you want… melech?

Sathariel: You’re quite snide for your age, don’t you think?

Jacob: What of it?

Sathariel: Let me guess, there’s something unpleasant between you and Esau, isn’t there?

Jacob turns his back to Sathariel, crosses his arms and lowers his head.

Jacob: My father only really cares about Esau. Esau is the good swordsman, Esau is the good citizen, Esau is the good son. No matter what I do, I’ll never be as good as Esau in my father’s eyes.

Sathariel: So your qualm is with your father, then. And I’m sorry to tell this truth, but now you have further confirmed why your father opted to deny you the chance to rule Eretsaphir alongside your brother.

Jacob puts his hand on the back of his neck and incoherently mumbles something.

Sathariel: Your father served me and my father well all these years and I’ll respect his wish to the grave. However, you already have the skill of an assassin and it must not go to waste. What do you say about becoming my hashashin?