Devoid

Hagen

"Are you sure about this?" Meliodas demanded. Salem nodded. "Yes, my lord. I checked myself." Meliodas nodded. "Well done. I will pay a visit in an hour. Make sure the prisoner is ready to answer questions." "As you wish." Meliodas cut the telepathic link he had with the other demon and sighed, slumping in his chair. He sat in his private library, filling out reports for the small division of soldiers he commanded. As Heir to the Throne, it was expected of him to make a name for himself in the military before inheriting.

Despite being the eldest prince, Meliodas was determined not to allow his title to come into his military career. He started at the bottom, just like anyone else, and climbed through the ranks with determination and sheer ruthlessness. During training and on the battlefield, soldiers were under strict orders to refer to him as "Commander Meliodas". Any other time, they were to refer to him by his first title. It had taken a few mistakes (and a few beat-downs) before the soldiers got it through their thick skulls, but they all knew their places by now.

Meliodas stacked the papers together and put them in his desk, with a lock spell on it. Not that anybody would be stupid enough to steal them from the High Prince's own room, but it didn't hurt to be extra cautious. He left the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He activated his Ghostasu Form and ShadowStepped to Salem's office at the Prison. The older demon started at the Prince's sudden arrival. "My lord," he greeted. "That was quick." Meliodas nodded. "Where's the prisoner?" Salem stood up from his desk. "I'll lead the way, if you please."

He led him into the part of the prison that held the traitors, once again. I'm spending way too much time in here, Meliodas thought sardonically. You'd think nobody would be stupid enough to betray my father after everything that has happened to those who dared to try it before. "Here we are, my lord," Salem said. Meliodas stood before the prisoner. He was strung up by his wrists with chains, which were the only things holding him up. It was one of the guards that had escaped during Galand's idiocy.

He grabbed the man by his grimy hair, which might've been brown was it not caked with blood and dirt. "What was in that scroll that Itzal gave you? Why was it going to Cadiz?!" The guard's blue eyes, too tired and in pain to hold his demon abilities, looked at him, unfocused. He looked on the verge of passing out. "Just...kill me...I've.....nothing to say." Meliodas sighed. "So, you're going to be difficult?" With no warning besides his soft tone, Meliodas plunged his hand into the demon's chest, snapping one of his ribs, and grabbing one of his hearts. The man gave a loud scream, his back arching and pulling on the chains encircling his wrists.

"I'm not going to kill you," Meliodas told him, his voice still dangerously soft. "I won't let you off that easily. You are going to tell me what was in that scroll and I," he squeezed the heart, just hard enough to cause incredible pain, but not enough to kill. The prisoner screamed again. "Will make sure you suffer before the end. Or I will hunt down your family and kill them one by one." The man's eyes flashed, showing some residual defiance. "You're as much of a monster as he is," he spat. There was no question who the "he" was. "Maybe I am," Meliodas agreed. "But I'm no traitor." He hissed that word with considerable venom.

The man smiled darkly. "Then you and I have differing priorities, Prince." Meliodas's eyes narrowed. He manifested his darkness and sent a small knife-like shard through his hand and into the man's heart. He screamed. "Take care how you address me, traitor," Meliodas warned. "I don't have any inclination to show mercy." With his right hand, he pushed the prisoner's head up. He started muttering an incantation under his breath that had the prisoner's eyes widening in terror. "No-!" "Soul Tear." The man screamed as the spell took hold.

Soul Tear was an incantation that was based off the Demon Clan's ability to take the souls of others. But instead of ripping the soul out entirely, the spell slowly teared pieces off, causing a literally soul-deep pain that could be felt in every part of the body. The bones, muscles, organs, even the skin all felt as if they were being slowly shredded. And yes, Meliodas knew from personal experience. His father truly was an asshole, he could agree with the prisoner on that much. "Now, then," Meliodas said, absolutely no emotion in his voice, "how about you tell me what I want to know?"

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Several hours later, the man still hadn't cracked. Meliodas was impressed. Irritated, but impressed. Most would cave after just a few minutes of the spell, much less the various other types of torture he had used. Meliodas had been torturing the man for over seven hours, occasionally pouring ice water on him to bring him back to consciousness. He grabbed the man's hair, which had ice shards in it from the cold of both the water and the air. Gripping the half-frozen locks, he pulled the prisoner's head up. "How much more of my time are you going to waste?" He asked angrily.

The man chuckled faintly. "As much as you care to give." "Tch," Meliodas snarled, slamming the back of the prisoner's head against the wall, then letting going. His head dropped, his chin to his chest. His breathing was harsh, rasping and choppy. If he wasn't a Demon, he'd probably be knocking on death's door. And even with their Clan's durability and resilience, it still wasn't looking good for the former guard. "Stubborn fool," Meliodas muttered.

"My lord," Salem suddenly said. Meliodas turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder. Beside a serious looking Salem, there was a pale, out of breath guard. What in the pits is it this time? Meliodas thought furiously. "You better have a good reason to interrupt us," he warned the guard. Or this is going to be you. The guard paled farther, reading what was in his tone. "M-my l-lord," he stuttered fearfully. "Th-there's someone waiting for you o-outside the Prison, s-sir!" Meliodas growled. He looked back at the prisoner, glaring at him darkly. "Enjoy your reprieve," he snapped.

He whirled around, stalking past the quivering guard. Salem fell into step behind him, knowing him well enough to not say a word that might draw his Prince's ire. "Bring me that traitor's immediate family," Meliodas ordered as he strode down the hall. "Looks like we're going to have to go the hard way." "As you wish," Salem said calmly. "I'm going to go kill whatever asshole decided it was a good idea to interrupt me," he muttered, his darkness squirming irritatedly on his skin.

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"Meliodas!" Zeldris exclaimed, running towards him. Meliodas stood in front of the prison gates, staring at his brother in utter shock. "What are you doing here, Zeldris?" He demanded. Zeldris slid to a stop in front of him and grinned widely. "I was sparing with Gowther like you told me to and I won!!" Meliodas closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, trying not to explode. "Zeldris..." "I came here to tell you!! Can we spar now?! I know I'll do better now–" Meliodas swung out and backhanded him, sending him flying. He smacked into a nearby tree with a cringe-inducing thwack and fell to the ground, moaning. "Owww..."

"There," Meliodas said emotionlessly. "Spar over. Now get out of here. I don't have time for you." He spun around and stalked back into the prison, ignoring his brother's calls behind him.

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"My lord," Salem called. Meliodas looked up from the papers he was pouring over. They had been found in the guard's home, but so far, they hadn't provided any clue as to who was trying to bring down his father and their plans to do so. "We've brought the traitor's family." Meliodas grinned. "Great. I'm headed back to the cell. Bring them there immediately." Salem bowed. "Yes, my lord." After he'd left, Meliodas stood up and motioned to one of the guards. "Your Highness," the guard said shakily. "Take these to Salem's office," he ordered. "Make sure nothing's out of place." The guard turned pale at his tone and bloodthirsty grin and nodded repeatedly. "Yes, my lord. Understood, my lord." He took the papers from him and practically ran away from him.