Mythical Guardians

☆11. Not a king. Not now, not ever☆

  In the hellish realm of fire, the Devil's son was bored.

  He spun his demonic sword idly in his hand, between his fingers. A less inexperienced person would had chopped their fingers off within a minute by the incredibly sharp blade, but Xevolar was all about danger and risk.

  He had nothing to do at the moment except spinning the blade, which was quickly getting old. Suddenly, an idea flashed across his mind so swiftly that he almost dropped the sword, an excited grin slowly appeared upon his lips at the thought of seeing somebody.

He closed his eyes shape shifted into his most natural form, hellfire. He's the very incarnation of it, smoking hot, powerful, destructive, punisher of the wicked, as he travelled towards the Fields of Torment, where the damned suffer for all eternity, and started his search for a certain soul.

  "Hey, buddy," he shape shifted back into his devil form," Remember me?"

  "You've got to be kidding me," the doomed soul moaned.

  "Well," Xevolar yawned," I am bored, and torturing you never gets old."

  "Because I scream the most?" The soul sneered," Gee, thanks."

  The Devil Prince shrugged," That's part of the reason. And, ya know, if you had been a good chap, you would had gone to Heaven. But no, you had to rape the girl."

  The soul glared at Xevolar," Isn't it what you do all the time?"

  Xevolar laughed, a loud, mocking cackle, as he wagged his finger at the soul nastily," Nuh uh, I don't do that. It is not my fault that I look attractive to them, unlike you."

  "Or that they are too afraid to complain," the soul growled.

  "By the Devil's name, no," Xevolar drawled," the same couldn't be said for you, though, you pug faced moron."

  Before the soul could protest, Xevolar snapped his fingers, and tongues of hellfire curled around the soul of the once fat man. The soul screeched, as Xevolar howled with laughter.

  "And you know what the best thing is?" Xevolar asked softly, but the menace was clear in his voice.

  "Huh?" The soul groaned, the tongues of fire wrapping around him, forming ten bands of fire, searing, burning, biting away at his flesh.

  "It is finding out that you haven't just raped one girl," the devil's smile spread.

  "Nuh...uh...that's not true!" The soul stammered.

  Xevolar made a curling gesture with his fingers, and the soul screeched louder when the tongues of fire curled tighter around him. The soul had a solid form in Hell, but he couldn't die again, so he was left in excruciating pain of hellfire, exactly what the devil wanted.

   "Uh uh," Xevolar walked closer, his charcoal coloured shirt glinting dimly in the light of the flames that danced and curled harmlessly around his body," You and I both know that isn't true."

  " The best part," He whispered as he leaned forward, his devillishly evil smile unwavering," is knowing that you didn't just rape her, but instead raped dozens of them, and punishing you for it."

  The soul's eyes widened, his screams attracting the attention of the other doomed souls, but they knew better to stear clear when the Devil or his son was in the middle of something.

  "Sweet," Xevolar muttered," A little bit more."

  "Mercy!" The soul screeched as the flames grew even hotter," Mercy! Please!"