A God's Reality: Becoming Crimson

Crimson's P.O.V.

I never gave it much thought.

Why, I, a mortal, was being taken care of by the Devil?

She was lovely, of course.

Well, as pleasant as the Devil can be when she is your mother.

"...Crimson, dearest, you know what you must do...” she said. My heart always panged at that. It was a righteous burden.

We had discovered one of her heads of the nine legions is in cahoots with the gods of our realm.

I am supposed to burn the loose ends. It is time for my first steps.

Today’s target was Drazzis, the Lord of Drought.

I stand from where I am kneeling in front of my mother’s throne, and I sigh. Turning on my heel, I start towards my personal armory. Usually, we would punish him by stripping him of his powers.

But Mother considers this high treason. And deems that he has forfeited his life.

I make my way through the bleeding halls of the hellish castle I call home. The bloodstained glass windows constantly remind me that this place, Hell, is not to be trifled with.

As true as every scar Bloodtide gave me in our first spar, everything in this realm has a set time to exist and a set time to end.

When I get to my armory, I find it open with my brother rummaging around in it.

“You have so many dangerous weapons in here, you know that?” His voice is coated with the playful tone he often speaks with.

I lean against the doorframe that separates me from my brother, arms deep in one of my chests that is full of experimental weapons.

“Yeah, that’s the point, Bloodtide; what interests you this time?” I ask and walk past him and start putting on my gear.

"Don't forget this." Bloodtide hands me a filter mask from the chest, and I strap it around my mouth and nose. "I want to borrow your crossbow."

I reach for my crossbow hanging on the wall as well as a quiver of varying bolts.

"Thanks." Bloodtide nods, slinging it onto his back before walking over, leaving me to myself.

I grab my two blessed maces. They are single-rod handles with a spiky, pulsating orb attached to a chain. I attach them to my back under my long coat.

I turn to my door and start walking out, passing my brother on the way.

He stops me, grabs me by the back of the neck, and pulls me into a hug. “Go get this motherfucker.”

I grab a few daggers and then slip out of the front of the castle into the cold, snowy, eternal landscape that is Hell.

Hell is hot. Not all of it; most weather here in Hell is snow, sleet, rain, and ice. More often than not, a blizzard rolls in to wipe the landscape of the unwilling souls of the mortals who end up down here.

There are some hot spots, but not like in some childish stories, consumed by the fleshly gazes of mortals.

I look down into our great city, Amaranth; the buildings are made from the bones of golems from the Savage Worlds. It was those golems who ruled this land before the Gods banished my mother here.

I climb the wall of the closest building to me.

After I kill him, Mother has permitted me to become the head of his legion.

I leap and bound from building to building, slowly leaving the castle’s central district and entering what’s known as the Rings of Hell. The first ring is the acid fields. We cleanse the souls we receive here in Hell.

I make my way to the looming column of bone. It pierces the clouds overlooking the acid fields; I do not want to end up in one of the acid pools.

I unclip my maces from my back and make the final jump over the last gap I need before landing in front of the Tower of Bone.

The two guards outside the door see me and exchange looks before rushing me; everyone is hostile here in Hell.

It is nature.

With that hostility, I add two more skulls to my throne.