Aɳɠҽʅιƈ Hυɳƚɾҽʂʂ σϝ Bʅσσԃ αɳԃ Sƚҽҽʅ

Chapter 16: Hell's Finest Overlord

While Maria and Lute recover in her Huntress's Dream, picking up the pieces that were their botched meeting with Adam.

They weren't the only ones...

Spanning an entire dimension away, beyond the golden gates of Heaven, lay another race of beings.

Hellspawn, specifically the royal princess and her group of misfit sinners. Who work continuously in preparation for the First Man's accelerated Extermination.

Among them, unknown to the Archangel of the Swift Hunt, is none other than the Radio Demon himself.

Finding new life in Eternal Hellfire, the cold-blooded murderer of Maria's family escapes the Huntress's wrath.

Reincarnating into the Strongest Overlord this Underworld has ever seen...

The Radio Demon, Alastor.

...

[Hell]

[Pride Ring | Pentagram City]

Alastor loves control...

Controlling the vast souls in his possession, hundreds of thousands worth, with an iron fist.

Controlling the battlefield with his superior eldritch magic, no sinner he's come across didn't walk away unless he deemed it so. Much less match him in pure combat prowess.

And controlling the very emotions of his allies and enemies alike, not that he had many allies, with that signature smile of his. Both taunting and charming, no one could see what the demon is really like underneath that unholy facade.

Or what he had plotting beneath...

But what Alastor couldn't control is the recurring nightmares. Inflicted upon him since his reincarnation.

...

Every morning is the same, endless screaming.

Writhing violently in his bed, the Radio Demon suffers through another horrid dream.

The same dream...

A cold night, darkness filling every corner of his vision.

Before his alarm could strike six, keeping him from a desired mercy.

Returning at his usual, the thinnest line between good and evil. The Witching Hour.

A mercy he would be denied from every single time.

All by her lonesome, a familiar woman appears. Illuminated by the stars above and wearing bloody torn clothes.

Subjected to this torment every night, never to wake up until the saving grace of a clock by his bedside.

She was back from the dead. Brought back as his very own executioner.

Unholy green light radiates from the demon, brightening the entire room.

The battle had already been lost, he just didn't know it yet.

His technique going haywire, Cthulhu-like tentacles from portals cast everywhere. The walls and floor alike had his magic leaking through.

He tried to flee, to escape with his life. But in doing so, he was made the prey...

Dark bleached bone grows from his head, rising in length from his red-haired scalp similar to deer antlers.

Prey to the Huntress.

An 'X', bright red and clear on his forehead. The remnant signs of a gunshot, right between his eyes.