The Children of Zegandaria by Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (good fiction books to read .TXT) 📖

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN: HELL OF ZEGANDARIA

Agares rejoiced in the progress of his disciple. Hans was also a greater demon than Valak himself. He was a true beast, but in sheep's clothing.

Few knew, however, that it was Jonathan Sacklin who was his hidden weapon to link worlds.

Sacklin was as good a fit as it was possible to be.

Hans didn't believe in chance. Many demons had been punished in his short reign, simply because in Hell, every day could be your last.

Jaldabaoth[77] and Sidragasso[78] were among those who had taken it the hardest, but not because of their names, but because of an old dispute over the redistribution of Hell's gold.

Hell's gold was one of the main currencies, as even a demon army needed money. The supremacy of hierarchy was another thing!

Many also knew the price of every single soldier.

A simple soldier was worth ten coins, a dime was worth twenty-five, and a centurion was worth a whole hundred.

The hordes of Hell were just waiting for when Hans would order them to act, but he was stalling for who knew why. He wanted or expected something to happen - something that would untie his hands. Yes, Valak knew how to manage, which was undeniable, but from a financial standpoint he was an absolute circlejerk. Period!

The emptied treasury could not convince the others that he deserved to live. And Hans filled it in no time. He could have been any number of things, but in time he began to appeal to the denizens of Hell. Well, liked, it was too positive, but as they put it in devilish terms the others felt they were of "the same breed".

As much as he hated to admit it, the combination between this unknown demon and Sacklin’s soul was one of the supreme inventions of his genius. He rubbed his hands together contentedly, knowing that sooner or later his efforts would bear fruit. He hoped that Hell's timing would work in his favor!

He decided, in the meantime, to audit his warriors and see how their training for war was going.

There was no room for weaklings in Hell, because they were getting eaten by the others anyway.

His warriors knew that something unheard of was soon to come and they hoped to win.

Hans appeared, not in the dignity of a self-appointed fool, but of someone who knew the psyche of the hellish creatures well. That won them over even more.

In Hell, actions were basically guided by the principle "I can destroy you!," but that understanding was too flat even for here.

The circles in Hell were separated and heavily guarded, but the time was approaching when they would simply overflow. Hans had taken that fact into consideration as well. His entire body still showed the scars of his previous life in Hell, whereas now he was its master!

He summoned Abaddon himself to him and asked him some questions about the level of fighting spirit of his army.

Agares watched everything very carefully and felt that Hans did not allow a single unnecessary question.

The old demon was amazed at his insight.

- "We must use the Axis of Despair," Abaddon voiced his views, "Hell is a specific place that is simply a dimension for eternal torment. You, know this well, master!"

He then enquired of Nergal himself whether the actions taken on his part towards Jaldabaoth and Sildragasso were correct.

Without further ado he received an affirmative answer.

Agares diplomatically remained silent and left the field to his ward. For him, this was a veritable "golden harvest". Now there would be an Armageddon the likes of which even in Hell they had rarely seen.

Finally, the demon of blindness, Soneilon, stood before him.

Respectful of the old man's appearance, Hans Auslander asked him a question that might have betrayed his reverie somewhat, but he couldn't help but ask:

- Tell me, oh, wise Soneilon, who is this unknown demon that all the others fear? I judge by your silence that I should not even name him.

Soneilon approached Hans and reached out to touch his hand. The infernal guards drew their weapons and stopped him.

- Anger boiled in his soul, but he didn't know something very important. And as long as that is the case my master will be safe.

Soneilon didn't say anything else, just politely asked if Hans had any other questions.

Then he withdrew in silence.

Agares noticed the strange expression on Soneilon's face, and although he didn't hear what Hans said, he walked up to him and said:

- Sir, pay no attention to that old fool. He knows not what he speaks!

Hans, however, would not forget what he had said. And he knew he was right!

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN: ARMAGEDDON

The demonic creatures were preparing for battle. They wanted to succeed. The "dream gate" was open and they were going to step into this world once and for all. However, why had Sacklin opened the portal? There was no definite answer to that question.

In his search for an answer to the so-called consciousness switch, he was willing to do anything, but he didn't notice how the cunning demon had possessed him.

The name of this demon that everyone feared was Nastarog. No one else could be so cunning and underhanded.

Nastarog was too ancient and so skilled that the other demons had never seen his face.

And if Valak had lived a full two hundred thousand years, then Nastarog himself was much, much older. And it showed in his strange expression.

Jonathan Sacklin had unlocked a spatial anomaly that was otherwise unattainable, but that wasn’t enough.

Zerdakil's gang had been named by one of the demons without Gad ‘Di Enn being aware of it, of course.

Their task was to stage a coup by recruiting ghost warriors into the very heart of the polis.

Zerdakil remembered Sacklin's face and it would always measure before his eyes like a ghost. He knew that despite his crumpled face, this shrunken intellectual was extremely dangerous.

He had hoped that the doctor would break him once he got the information he needed.

It was only a matter of time before the demons came to the polis, but not before Zerdakil indulged in mass murder with his gang. The ghost warriors were also mobilized just in case. The savage Ryan had recently split off and Zerdakil couldn't count on him. He didn't even suspect the secret collaboration between his pup and Jail Hunter. But the two years were already coming to an end. And the hit they'd been stating would also be made tonight. By some incredible coincidence, the demonic creatures would attack right then.

Zerdakil readied himself and tried to be level headed. He knew that Savage Ryan was most likely preparing a surprise for him and was trying to catch him off guard. Soon everything would shine through.

Ryan was with Namuro, but only occasionally. Most of the time he listened to Joseph and his plans for domination. But the ghost warriors stationed at Emvor Na Hospital weren’t enough. They needed to gather more forces to tip the scales in their favor.

The senior demons knew that this might be their last chance to leave Hell. The thought of entering the mortal world was enticing enough for them.

The sorrow of the Hell dwellers was immense. They longed to escape this realm of eternal sorrow.

The axes of despair were two fallen angels pouring hot tar through their eyes. To this place in the midst of nothingness they drove those sinners who had never knelt before the lords of Hell.

Some were even disfigured by the hot jets of tar. Their eyes glistened with bloody tears, and their tormentors looked at them mercilessly. Nothing was the same, no matter how much they hoped for salvation. They sought it in their own way, but they would not find it, and they knew it.

The usual torturers were the Demon of Hate Stolas, who with his legions kept the brutal martyrs from slipping away after all.

The infernal army had to make some sort of progress, and would surely rise to a new level if it was aware of what would happen next.

Many knew of the bloody feud between Hell's main warlords, namely Stolas, Pruflas, and Paimon, as each insisted on taking the lead and showing their superiority over the others. Of course, this situation couldn't last too long as the scales tipped one way or the other.

The psyche of the infernal lords was impervious to change unless the ephemeral possibility of a total reshaping of their domain was taken into account. It wasn't just the number of legions under their command that mattered, but many other things, such as access to the so-called emfusor that еnsured their thoughts would not be read.

Naturally, when they decided to organize Armageddon on the surface of the planet Zegandaria some other things happened. Sinners were not to be left unattended especially at a time like this. They were to experience suffering of another nature, indescribable in human words.

Nergal, as head of the Infernal Police, would take over the General security of the circles, but there was a need for someone else who was stable and trustworthy enough, even by Hell's standards. After a long search, they settled on the Chief Demon of the Fallen angels, Semiazas. The only reason they looked at him that way was because he would appreciate the dignity of their travails in the Axis of Despair and show once and for all that no compromises would be made with anyone.

This particularly appealed to Tamus, the ambassador of Hell, who was also aware of what was about to happen. He was also aware that a relatively elementary mistake had cost the head of Valak himself, who had held onto Hell's throne the longest of anyone.

He had to do something about it. He'd withstood all the coups in Hell, he had so far, but who knew what would happen.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN: THE HIDDEN LEVELS

Archie wished he could see what was going on in the Hidden Fields, where there were still traces of the presence of Kazuk Mon himself. These were the four levels above the level of Om Gur Nal, also known as the Wicked Dimensions. The catch was that this was where the demonic creatures could infiltrate, but it was only the supreme archivist there that they could communicate with. It was that simple.

Kazuk Mon had used those levels, where the patronage of Arthusson himself (as Nastarog had introduced himself, by the way) had granted him access. Yes, he had enjoyed that access. It was not just an exotic reality to him, but something