Ars Goetia – Episode 7 (All-Patrons)

Words Count: 4974

A/N: My sister’s water broke. Luckily nothing bad happened. Guess I’m an uncle now. Still doesn’t feel real.

I am… Beyond disappointed to discover that my initial assessment was, in truth, an understatement.

Apart from ‘Black Black’, the members of The Seven display a level of combat proficiency equivalent to that of toddlers who have been given Superpowers.

Maeve, while slightly better and more imaginative, relies solely on her instincts in battle. Deep and A-Train, on the other hand, resemble squabbling highschool jocks with their constant pushing and shoving each other without any real intent to cause harm… Can such behavior even be classified as fighting? True combat, although chaotic, possesses a certain rhythm for those who are trained in it.

I am astounded at how these individuals, whom I refuse to refer to as Heroes until they have earned their namesake, have managed to maintain their popularity for such an extended period of time.

I’ll admit, I kind of owe Vought’s marketing team a well-deserved apology.

The immense pressure they’re enduring as a result of these celebrities’ sheer incompetence must be unimaginable.

Fact is, without my Devil Physiology, I’d have gained grey hair by the end of the session. As for Translucent… The less said about that filthy fucking voyeur, the better. With his personality, he should have been assigned a desk position, not a field one in a Superhero Team. Needless to say, Noir carried their asses and they failed still to achieve victory… Fetching the encrypted phone Vought had given me, I quickly dial Ms. Stillwell. Why? To demand more compensation, of course.

If I’m to beat these fools into shapes, I better get paid my due.

After some time, the audibly exhausted blonde finally picks up the phone. “– Mr. Reid…”

Her voice dripping with resentment, which is perfectly understandable considering the condition I left her in and the instructions I gave Harper. “A million per session is not enough. These idiots are utterly useless.” Teaching self-defense to children would have been a less daunting task. Annoying as they are, at least they haven’t formed stupid habits that I literally need to beat out of them like the members of The Seven.

Madelyn takes her sweet time, but eventually, she does reply. “– Do you really have the audacity to demand more after pulling off that stunt?”

I roll my eyes in response. “Come on, let’s be honest, we both know you enjoyed it.”

Madelyn groans in frustration. “I had to go into a meeting all sticky- sweaty, smelling of you and that idiotic receptionist… I’m 90% sure everyone knew what I was doing beforehand. It’s practically a miracle that nobody made any comments about it.” Instead of shame, I am overwhelmed by pride. “– Oh, please do wipe that smug smirk off your face, Mr. Reid. It isn’t funny.”

“It kind of is.” I double-down, only to realize. “Don’t change the subject, blondie. Maeve’s a jaded, Wonder Woman reject. Homelander… He needs therapy, or a father-figure and I am severely under-equipped to do either. I’m pretty sure A-Train and Deep have one brain-cell they are sharing one another, and Translucent tries to perv on me in the changing room, and he’s as straight as a fucking arrow!”

“– Well, you do have a nice ass.” Her words successfully elicit a disgusted twitch of my lips. “No amount of money will convince me to fuck the male Supes, blondie. Speaking of which, 3 Mil per session or I’m out.”

“– And get saddled with enough legal troubles to last you several lifetimes?”

She questions in a challenging tone. It’s a peculiar trait of Madelyn’s that I find intriguing. The way she attempts to control- to tame me. I’m going to enjoy turning the table on her. Our relationship is far from romantic, merely built on shared interests – whether they be sexual, financial, or political.

Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to her… Watching the blonde writhe in pleasure, as all thoughts of mannerism and decorum flee her mind gets me all riled up in my nether region, the same way corrupting nuns does.

I blame it all on Pride.

Lust plays a part, surely, but the desire to dominate my lesser in all aspects definitely arose from him first, which the latter later fueled and fed on. Fanning the flame, so to say. “Please, you and I both know I’m playing by the rules out of my own volition.” It’s the polite version of: ‘Your contract doesn’t mean shit, so agree to my demands or get shafted’.

Madelyn seems to get the message, given how quiet she goes.

“3Mil, or I’m flying straight to China.”

Unsurprisingly, the China-US tension is at an all-time high, and the situation only worsened once people realized Supes were exclusively born in America. Did ol’ Yahweh really bless the US? I doubt it. This reeks of conspiracies, and the fact that despite all the blackmail materials I am privy to, there are still confidential info I do not have the clearance to read only confirms it:

The Supes are not created by God, but rather by people.

Scientists, similar to those found in Sage Groove. It is also intriguing to observe how Vought attempts to present itself as a Supe-driven company, despite its origins in the pharmaceutical industry.

Perhaps next time we meet, I should try delving in Madelyn’s Soul, instead of busying myself with her body, although in my defense, it was a hoot emptying my seed in that tight little snatch of hers.

If not for the fact us Devils, due to our incredibly long lifespan and gifts, have been completely shafted by Nature in the fertility department, I’d have been worried about brats with my features running around somewhere, but Belial has assured me the chances of such a thing happening is less than 1%. Apparently, Papa-Lucy, brilliant as he was in the tinkering of Magic and Mysticism, still couldn’t figure out how the Olympians were breeding so much.

How does he know this?

Well, although I call it the Ars Goetia, I also possess Clan Traits of the Houses of Extra Demons, the Seven Sins themselves have also alluded to the fact they too possess Traits of their own, and the four Great Satans, Lucifer included, naturally have theirs. Each of them carries within them a niche little thing called: ‘Genetic Memory’, which the Pillars can freely access at their convenience.

Once I’ve mastered the Trait, their knowledge will become mine as well, but until then I have to rely on their Manifestations to tell me these things… Though not exactly the ideal situation, given how eccentric the Manifestations can be personality-wise, it’s still better than stumbling around in the dark on my lonesome. “– John, I can’t agree to your condition. The price is too steep, even for Vought.”

‘Bullshit.’ I think, but don’t vocalize my dissatisfaction. Vought pays at least 20Mil per year to clean up their Supes’ messes, while the Seven’s annual salary totals to 50Mil per year each. It would not be an overestimation to say 90Mil is basically a drop in the bucket for these guys. “Is it really steep? You must’ve seen the recordings, right?”

Considering the circumstances, it is highly improbable that Vought or any responsible authority would leave our little training room unchecked, especially when they’ve allowed an individual who has publicly confessed to being a Demon- me direct influence over their most powerful Supes. What if I decide to mind-fuck them into becoming my loyal slaves? Not that I’m planning on it, but I could, and any person with half a brain-cell would have thought of the possibility as well.

“I’m stronger than all the Seven combined, Ms. Madelyn. Considering the value I bring to the table, the price I proposed is not excessive at all.”

As a Supe affiliated with Vought, I’ve granted them the authority to distribute merchandise relating to my persona, with them receiving 75% of the profits and myself receiving 25%.

Additionally, I have a separate contract as a consultant to ensure a reliable and stable stream of income. However, my contractual obligations are limited to advisory duties. There is no provision stating that I must undertake the training of Vought’s Supes. Furthermore, 90 million dollars is a reasonable sum to mitigate the potential casualties and property damages caused by their uncontrollable Supes.

Imagine the potential ramifications if Vought’s Supes were found to be responsible for a greater number of fatalities than the actual terrorists.

In such a scenario, the negative impact on their stocks would be swift and substantial, far surpassing the measly sum of 90Mil I’m asking for. Madelyn knows this too. “Think about it, blondie… Or don’t, I don’t care.” It’s no skin off my nose if Vought rejects the offer. In fact, it may even be beneficial in the long run. If news of their less than savory activities were to get leaked, I could scapegoat the firm by claiming I offered to put collars on their psychotic Supes, but Vought refused.

Madelyn lets out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “– I’ll talk to the President,” She says wearily. “– But such decision cannot be made without the shareholders’ inputs. I hope you understand, Mr. Reid.” I reply heartily, even taking the time to tease “No harsh feelings… Take your time, luv’, and if you’re too stressed, well, you already know how to contact me.”

“– I would greatly appreciate the offer a lot more, if it did not come from someone who is causing these difficulties.” Her frustrated voice drawls, drawing a chuckle from me. “Nothing personal, luv’. Just business.”

We trade some more empty pleasantries, before I hang up. It’s well past 6PM, Cindy must be having an aneurysm by now. But, just as I’m about to head home, I feel something tug on my mind. As Belial explains, Devils can grow magically via completing Deals, the best of which, according to him, often involve Souls which can increase our power real quick, but it also runs the risk of destabilizing us mentally, and turning us into inhuman monstrosities.

As morally-bankrupt as I am, I’m not about the whole ‘Dealing in Souls’ niche, and besides the cons outweigh the pros a bit too much.

Fortunately, transactions and agreements, even without involving the exchange of souls, still have the potential to enhance our power. As entities of Sins and Temptations, we’re able to harness a small portion of the energy their Souls naturally generate when we successfully fulfill the desires of others.

Although the gain is minuscule compared to directly absorbing their Essences, it is still a valuable source of empowerment, and better than receiving nothing at all. How these Deals are made is relatively simple: We give humans our Sigil, wait for them to want something really badly, then answer.

In Muriel’s case, I had taken the time to engrave my Sigil on her bone when I was destroying the cancer-cells via Worthlessness, which adds as a gateway of sort. With closed eyes, I concentrate on the woman’s longing, her whereabouts, carefully listening to her plea, ‘Assist me… I implore you, deliver me from this place. I offer thee my Soul.’

Sadly, Devils are not all powerful.

Yes, our Magic is entirely Imagination-Based;

Yes, we have Clan Traits that give us the powers to rival Yahweh’s forces, but we’re by no means omnipotent.

If her request had been something along the lines of slaying a God or her God, I would have disregarded her plea without hesitation. This… This, however, I can do.

As the Belial Sigil takes shape beneath my feet, a swirling vortex of greyish light engulfs me. In an instant, a powerful and abrupt force propels me through the vast expanse of space and time, hurling me into a chaotic, disordered bedroom.

I find myself deposited right in its very center, somewhat disoriented but ready to fulfill my client’s desire.

“Belial…” A faint voice mutters- an exorcist’s, judging from his outfit. To instantly recognize our Sigil, the dude knows his stuff. Surveying the room, I lock eyes with Muriel, who’s bound to the bedframe, her face stained with tears and snot, her desperate plea for help hanging in the air. “Help me. Please, just take me from here. I’m willing to offer up my Soul.”

“Ma! How could you?!”

A piercing screech from a teenager startles the priests, leading them to regain their senses. “Demon! Belial the Worthless! We command you to release this woman, in the name of G–"

Before they can finish their plea, I snap my fingers, causing their mouths to fuse together. One thing about our Magic is its temporary nature. We are unable to permanently enhance our physical strength due to this, but as long as I sustain the Spell, its effects will persist unless a more powerful Entity manages to break it. “I don’t need your Soul, unfortunately, but I guess we can iron out the details of our Deal later.”

I muse, untying Muriel with yet another snap. “Come.” I beckon, gesturing towards the Demonic Circle, disregarding the horrified screams of the surrounding people. “Let us depart from this place. It is suffocating in its allegiance to Yahweh.”

Muriel hesitates momentarily, clearly torn by conflicting emotions, until she catches a piercing look of pure animosity in her hus- Well, ex-husband’s eyes. ‘Demon’s slut!’ He seems to say, despite possessing no mouth with which he can utter the words. Pain radiating from her eyes, the woman takes my hand, entering the Demonic Circle out of her own freewill.

As our hands connect, an unusual sensation washes over me, like a flurry of hammers pounding at my mind.

Surprisingly, though, it's not discomforting. Instead, it carries an intriguing quality, as if beckoning me towards an unknown realm.

Curiously, I begin to hear faint sounds, like the clinking of snapping chains in the distance. Then, Belial’s voice resounds in my mind, ‘Duke Agares has demanded a meeting.’ But, the timing couldn’t be worse, and I dismiss the message, mentally responding with a hint of annoyance. ‘Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something here.’

‘Take your time.’

As the Demonic Circle ignites once more, a radiant glow envelops us, and with a gentle pull, we’re lifted off the ground and carried away by a wispy force.

Teleportation is undeniably convenient, allowing for swift travel between destinations. However, it’s a power I seldom employ, partly because I relish the feeling of wind brushing against my face as I soar through the skies.

In addition, my frequent flights across various locations will contribute significantly to cultivating a favorable public perception. By openly traversing the skies, I am able to showcase my transparency, showing to all I have nothing to hide. By the time the light subsides, we’re already in my bedroom. I do not entertain Muriel any longer, taking off my coat as I pour myself a glass of wine.

To be honest, I am uncertain about how to handle the situation with the woman. While I did assist her, my motivation was mostly to spite the Heavenly Host which sent me to Hell. Although it worked out in the end, that doesn’t mean I don’t hold a grudge.

I don’t consider her to be of significant importance to me. Downing the wine, I gesture, “Well… Welcome to my humble abo–” My words come to a halt as I notice her state of undress. With stupefied expression, I pinch the bridge of my nose and ask, “What are you doing, luv’?” The woman seems uneasy, and although I appreciate her appearance, I do not feel a romantic or personal attraction towards her.

More… Pity?

“I- I thought–”

“You actually thought I would engage in a sexual encounter with a woman who just went through an incredibly traumatic experience?” I raise my eyebrows and say with a drawl. “Does my image really come across that poorly, luv’?”

She hesitates for a moment, her voice timid as she speaks.

“Um, I mean… You’re… Well, you are a Demon, so…” Her hands instinctively move to cover her body, a futile attempt given her state of undress. “And I- I did offer you my Soul.”

As my gaze narrows, I use my telekinetic powers to effortlessly toss her garments back towards her. “Get dressed already.” I remark with a hint of annoyance, then turn away to give her a semblance of privacy. The rustling of clothes fills my ears, but it’s soon accompanied by a sound that tugs at my conscience– faint sobs. ‘Is she crying?’

Intrigued by the noises, I steal a quick glance behind me. There, I find the woman crouched, tears streaming down her face, each droplet crystalline and poignant. Her voice remains subdued, as if she fears provoking me further. Confusion tinges my words as I ask, “I haven’t done anything to you, so why are you crying?” She immediately wipes away the tears, rising to her full height as she offers me a smile that’s stiffer than Homelander’s rigid fighting stance. “I- I’m sorry, Milord. It’s just… It’s been a–”

“An awful day.”

I finish in Muriel’s place, seeing how distraught she is.

“There’s another bedroom, you can spend the night there.”

Tiredly, I rub my temples.

Truly, ‘No good deed goes unpunished.’

I saved her from certain demise, helped her escape a bunch of religious nutjobs and still, I’m left feeling like I’m the asshole. Yes, my intentions in the beginning were impure, I won’t deny that, but that doesn’t negate the fact I saved someone. They should be overjoyed, not bawling their eyes out, dammit! “Th- Then I’ll take my leave, Milord.”

Chewing on my lips, I call out. “Wait!”

The woman pauses, visibly shaken, before she turns towards me with a pale expression. “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

Her words provoke a conflicted response within me.

While I do indeed desire to seek retaliation against God and the Church, I never intended for the poor woman to suffer, not like this. “Do you wish to return to your previous life? The recordings of morning’s events will circulate, but give it a week, two at best, and things will die down. Nobody will even remember what I granted you–”

I can even leverage my contacts in Vought to delete the videos currently in circulation.

“I can erase the memories of your husband and children. I could even use a charm to restore your appearance to how it used to be.” The only way to make such Magic permanent will be through Enchantments, and though I haven’t touched on that yet, an appearance-altering Artifact should not be too difficult to forge. “You could continue with your normal life, pray to God even. Sure, you’ll have to lay low for a while, but things can’t possibly get much worse, right?”

The mention of the Yahweh causes my jaws to clench.

Honestly, how petty do you have to be to curse an entire species with your own Title?

And this prick’s supposed to be Goodness-Embodied? Are you joking? In any case, I do not have much use for Muriel, and making her miserable isn’t in my list of agendas. The Deal is done anyway, and I’ve gotten what I need.

As she briefly experiences a flicker of joy, it quickly fades, replaced by a forlorn expression. “You know,” She begins, “I was brought up in a very strict Christian household. While the other kids get comics and fairytales, I’d get the Bible for holidays. My parents would always tell me: Pray to God, believe in him, and he’d answer–” An audible sigh escapes me as I resign myself to the impeding torture.

“So I did. I prayed, and prayed when my parents fell sick. Once they passed, I prayed so their Souls would get into Heaven… When my first child turned out to be a stillborn, I held to my Faith. God was testing me, people would tell me…”

Her fists clench tight, knuckles turning pale. “He didn’t respond when my parents died. Did not show when my first child died in my womb, and now his teachings have taken my family as well. In my greatest time of need, it wasn’t God who helped me, but a Demon. What use does praying to him do?

I… I don’t think I can believe or devote myself to such a cruel and apathetic God… Not anymore.” Muriel’s lips tremble, arms crossed, likely to give herself some measures of comfort her Faith no longer provides. “I don’t hate my family, but after what they did- the humiliations they allowed to happen to me, I can’t go back, so please–”

The blonde bows. “I can cook, clean… I- I can even offer myself to you if you desire, but don’t chase me away. I have nowhere else to go, no one left except you, Milord.”

“I…”

For the first time since my Reincarnation, I find myself at an utter loss for words. Finally, succumbing to my guilt, I let out a sigh and purposefully avoid eye contact with the woman. “Go clean yourself up,” I say in a defeated tone, “Then join us for dinner. You must be starving.” A brilliant smile graces her face, and she bows again. “Thank you, Milord. You’re… Kinder than what I expected.”

With that, she hurries down the hallway, leaving me a bit… Overwhelmed, to be honest. Even the Pillars and Sins have gone silent at her confession. Muriel may not have voiced it directly, but she has essentially told me she has replaced her former Faith with us. I, I don’t know what to feel anymore. Gratitude wasn’t something I’m used to dealing with.

Hunting Cryptids, though cool on paper, wasn’t exactly a honored profession. If we’re not cursed for having arrived late, then we’re being berated for some imagined crimes. Few ever celebrated us, and even fewer managed to muster up a ‘Thank you’ after the traumatic ordeal they went through. I don’t even know the word to describe what I’m feeling. Is it joy? Happiness perhaps?

Without my input, my hand reaches for my heart, feeling the steady, yet powerful beats underneath. “I’m not that good of a person, you fool.” I whisper, more to myself than her.

Crossing my legs, I begin to meditate. Time passes differently in my Mindscape, and talking to Agares shouldn’t take too long… I should be up in time for dinner.

With that thought in mind, I sink into the depth of my consciousness where all manners of Beasts are chained. The place hasn’t changed much from the look of it, though it possesses a certain kind of Order to it now. I turn to discover Belial’s colossal Castle standing behind me, and in I walk.

“BELIAL, YOU HERE?!”

Announcing my arrival with a loud proclamation for the King, I hasten my steps towards the garden. The plants, withered and lifeless, provide a somber backdrop as I catch sight of the Demon. He’s meticulously tending to the destroyed flowerbeds, a task he undertakes diligently despite their hopeless state.

Standing beside him is a silent Pillar, his eyes resembling crimson rubies, while his features mirror my own: Golden, tousled hair, sickly pale complexion, and an unusual crown adorned with shades of gold and neon green, unlike Belial’s. Only difference is his lack of a mouth, yet I have feeling it will not affect his ability to speak.

“You wished to parley, Agares?”

In stark contrast to the King of the Worthless, the Archduke of Dignitaries exudes an eerily serene and mundane aura, almost gentle in its nature.

“Prince Mammon–” He greets, softly spoken words like the gentle breezes of the winds. “Will you join us for tea on this fine evening?”

I peer at the collection of toxic concoctions emitting ominous fumes, then at the cloudy, unchanging Sky of my Mindscape, and with an awkward smile rejects. “I’m afraid not, Duke Agares. I have… Plans.” The Archduke doesn’t insist, gesturing towards the seat next to Belial and him.

I oblige, seeing as compared to the other Pillars, he has been nothing but courteous so far. “Refreshments, your Imperial Highness?” Once again, the Demon offers. The biscuits don’t look nearly as gross as the teas, but the green rocks imbedded in them do not look at all appetizing. His way of address is odd too, though I suppose it only makes sense for the Demon who grants Nobility to act with such… Grace.

“Your Imperial Highness, let us not delay any longer. You do have two of those hairless apes to attend to.”

As the Archduke stretches his hands, his knuckles visibly bulge, and to my surprise, two objects materialize in his palms. With a flick of his wrists, Agares reveals the two Orbs he now holds, one gleaming in gold, and the other in a vibrant shade of green, resembling the crown of horns curving around his skull. I should not know what they are, yet I do, instinctually.

“Traits?”

Silently, the Archduke of Dignitaries nods in acknowledgement and offers the Orbs to me. “In contrast to the Traits possessed by others, mine are comparatively milder. However, your body can currently handle only one, alongside Belial’s Worthlessness. I advise you to proceed with caution, your Imperial Highness.”

Both Traits possess an unique Aura: the Gold emanating a feeling of Nobility, and the Green exuding that of Timeless Essence.

With eyes wide in suspicion, I inquire, “Agares, what is the reason for this sudden offering?” Whether they are fragments of myself or not, I am not idiotic enough to accept free benefits or make sketchy Deals.

I don’t even do it with humans, let alone the Archduke of the Underworld. After all, nothing is really free… Even Yahweh’s love, in spite of what his followers preach, isn’t unconditional. “What do you have to gain out of this?” There’s no point beating around the bush.

“Your Imperial Highness, our powers will be bestowed upon you regardless. So why not expedite the process? Additionally… You have done admirably in turning the sheep from the shepherd. It pleases us.”

Immediately, I realize the identity of the person he is referring to.

Muriel… “What sets her apart? What makes her so special?” I’ve been sleeping with nuns for weeks now, making them scream for God in pleasure, but it’s Muriel he decides upon?

His voice drips with a wickedness befitting a Demon of his stature, accompanied by the curving of his narrowed eyes that reveals his true nature.

It seems that, no matter how the Pillars portray themselves, their inherent wickedness can never truly be forfeited. “Nothing,” He says, his tone laced with a sinister glee. “Nothing but her unwavering Faith… The nuns you trifled with were nothing but pretenders, their convictions as delicate as their fickle hearts. Your new pet, on the other hand, has been a devout believer her entire life. Though she may have moments of doubt, as all humans tend to, she has never strayed from her belief… Until now.”

Belial and I remain silent, offering no response to the Demon’s words as he continues to giggle with sinister delight. After a while, his laughter gradually dies down, then Agares extends the Traits towards me once more. “Go ahead. Take your due, Prince Mammon.”

He urges, his voice filled with an unsettling eagerness. I look from the alluring Gold Orb to the intriguing Green uncertainly.  

“Will I lose the other if I pick one?”

I ask, and Agares’ response comes in a shake of his head, assuring me, ”Your acquisition will merely be delayed, your Imperial Highness.”

“That’s a relief,” I exhale quietly, my body relaxing as the tension eases. If this is the case, even if I happen to choose the… Less advantageous option, I can still obtain the other Trait in the future.

Nonetheless, the importance of my decision remains undiminished. Despite having the most powerful individuals at my disposal, I can’t be certain that Yahweh won’t strike me down out of sheer spite. That Tyrant has a tendency for such behavior, as gleaned from his persona in the Old Testament.

What annoys me most is the Ars Goetia has revealed frustratingly little about him. If I know how he acts, I may be able to plan accordingly. “Can you give me a summary of my options?”

Agares obliges and raises his left hand, proudly showcasing the Green Orb, “This is the Imprisonment of Time, my Prince.”

He then raises the Golden Orb and says, “And this is Dignitary Ascendancy…”

He pauses, as if to say this should be sufficient for me to choose.

Growing increasingly frustrated, I pinch the bridge of my nose and ask again, my irritation evident in my voice. “Could you please provide more detailed information about them?”

Agares leans forward, maintaining his nonchalant demeanor while holding the Traits in his hands. “You get what you get, Imperial Highness. Now, I believe it’s time to choose, Prince Mammon. Which one do you prefer?”

Immediately, I reach for the Imprisonment of Time. Time Magic is always powerful, after all, versatile too, but then I hesitate. Dignitary Ascendency just sounds that awesome, and though I usually am not the kind to judge a book by its cover, but when the cover’s so awe-inspiring…

Cautiously, I observe Agares’ reactions, but the bastard’s completely still, rigid one may say.

Finally, having made a decision, I grab the Golden Orb.

Have always liked a surprise, and while my Luck often throws me in shitty situations, it also gets me out… Relatively whole often. “A wise decision. It shall serve you well, your Imperial Highness.”

As Agares’ laughter reverberates, my mind becomes inundated with a flood of information. ‘Names and Titles Bestowal, huh?’

I can work with that.