The Twelve Apocalypses: A Damned Soul's Path to the Abyss

I was most definitely, and pretty thoroughly, screwed.

The chirpy menace had seemed bright and kind, at first. The façade held up until she forced us to run all the way back to where her troops were stationed because she ’refused to lose to her sister.’

Things only got worse from there.

She swept into the barracks assigned to her troops and gave them all a loud and rude wake-up call. The fact that all the grizzled-looking demons under her command were doing their very best to kill her with their gaze didn’t deter her.

If anything, she thrived on their hatred.

As soon as everyone was out of the barracks, she announced we were marching out right that instant. This was not well received. Complaints immediately erupted, and were immediately silenced as she casually drove her fist through the nearest protesting demon’s face.

Then she just stood there and smiled like a psychopath, obviously daring anyone else to speak up.

The one who did was a harried demon with barely any meat on his bones, wearing a ridiculously large pair of glasses.

"My lady," he began. She glared at him murderously, and he sighed. "I mean, commander, I’m afraid to say that we can’t set off immediately. If we do, our regular troops might manage without their assigned provisions. However, our fresh recruits definitely will not survive. The general would take notice of that."

The man’s voice was calm but soft. I had to hold back my disbelief when the unreasonable woman actually paused and pursed her lips to think. She started tapping her foot on the ground, sweeping her eyes back and forth over her silent troops.

"Fine!" she shouted at last, throwing her hands in the air. "Be that way! Go get them their provisions, but I expect them to be ready to set out in two hours. That’s all the time I’m willing to waste. If anyone’s not here at that point, I’ll personally track you down and send you back to hell."

No one was in the mood to test her, and her apparent assistant quickly swept us away into a part of the city I hadn’t explored before. He kept up a rapid but mostly realistic pace, leading us through a series of army gear shops to a huge warehouse run by the local quartermaster.

The massive crimson quartermaster was quick to hand out our provisions, especially when the sergeant’s assistant brought up our commander’s name. Apparently, even red-skinned demons could go pale with fear. The quartermaster’s skin turned an odd shade of washed-out pink.

Unfortunately, that was the tail end of our luck. We were rushed back to our commander, who then cheerily proceeded to drive us out of the city and into the wilds of the world we’d been unleashed upon.

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Three days. That’s how long the insane demoness kept us marching without pause or break. Every physical need we had was to be handled during the march, with no exceptions or excuses.

Apparently, no one had ever bothered to brief her on the frailty and peculiarities of human bodies. Then again, she likely thought these human-details were a non-issue, considering the differences between humans and demons.

For example, demons don’t need toilets. The digestive track of a demon is both many times more efficient than a human’s and entirely mana-based. As such, it would be entirely impossible to provoke ’normal’ bodily functions in demons, short of forcing non-mana-reactive materials down their throats.

No such luck for humans. Basically, our lives were absolute hell for those three days.

I was actually one of the lucky few. My mana technique eliminated a ton of the exhaustion and soreness typically associated with nonstop marching. Even then, I was bloated, bone-deep tired, and on the verge of passing out.

Speaking of unconsciousness, the only reason the insane woman eventually called a halt was because so many of her human soldiers did pass out. The demons were starting to complain about having to carry them and the smell that began to clung to the human portion of the army.

The break didn’t end our suffering.

The sergeant’s assistant was imminently capable, and had made sure to weasel plenty of tents and sleeping bags from the quartermaster. However, because setting up a full camp was ’a waste of time,’ we were ordered to simply set out the sleeping bags and be done with it.

Even the demons grumbled at this. Superior physique didn’t make cold, hard ground any more comfortable.

Still, when we started taking sleeping breaks every two days and short breaks twice daily, it was an immense relief for everyone, infernals and mortals alike.

There was also an odd sense of camaraderie forming between our two sides. Sure, the demons were immortal, higher-tier life forms with actual control over their lives. But at the end of the day, we were all stuck under the heel of a tyrannical lunatic. The minor physical differences just didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

Slowly at first, then with increasing regularity, I saw demons chatting with humans. Some even seemed to be having a decent time. I wouldn’t say outright friendships were forming, but it was definitely a solid step in the right direction.

It was eavesdropping on these chats that finally clued me into some truths about the invasion.

Apparently, as far as worlds go, Berlis was considered weak. It wasn’t even a proper planet, just a ’plane’ world with actual edges and a low ceiling of power. Granted, ’low’ for demonic sensibilities meant something entirely different to humans like me, but it was still indicative of the world’s value.

The general consensus was that Berlis wouldn’t be subjugated, but instead, the demons kept using the word, ’devoured.’ What that actually meant was a mystery to me.

I also found out that we were currently on the very outskirts of the Beralion Kingdom, where locals had tried to form a containment zone for the incoming demonic invasion. Beralion was the largest and most influential of the mortal nations, and a definitive leader of the local resistance. They had set up a massive barrier anchored to fortress cities, which meant those cities had to be taken down before the invasion could spread into the surrounding kingdoms.

Conquering the fortress city we just left meant the barrier was now falling.

While this was all fascinating, the final tidbit of information was what I valued most: the goal of our little outing.

We were raiders.

Our goal was to pass through the containment zone, a stretch of empty and relatively barren land, and reach the human settlements beyond. From there, we were allowed to butcher, pillage, and do whatever else we liked to our hearts’ content, so long as we actively contributed to the weakening of the locals.

For our insane commander, that meant reaping as many human souls as we could manage, and destroying as many settlements as we could get to. If things went according to her plan, we would even reach some of the Beralion kingdom’s inner cities before her competitors could.

When we finally spotted our first local village after days of marching, I still didn’t know how I felt about this mission.

Somehow, even after all that I had personally done, I still had it in my head that I would be facing off against enemy combatants. I expected soldiers with training, skill, and equipment of sufficient quality to challenge me.

Those beliefs evaporated into thin air when the locals caught sight of us, and the entire settlement dissolved into panic.

"This is it!" Our commander’s voice eagerly cut through the air. "Our first souls! If you let even a single one of them escape, I’ll tear your intestines out and make you march while you wear them as a scarf! And if you somehow die at the hand of these pathetic things, I’ll track you down in the Abyss and torture you to insanity! Now, ATTACK!"

There was no compulsion driving me onwards this time, but I broke into a sprint nonetheless. I was one of the fastest humans around, and with the casual pace the demons set, I could easily keep up with the front lines.

That meant I had a great view of the villagers as terror and resignation dawned on their faces.

I got to watch as mothers clung to their children, some dragging them behind useless doors. Others tried for a desperate sprint away from the incoming madness. A few able fighters, men and women alike, massed in front of the village, determined to slow us down.

They were only delivering themselves to the slaughter.

Feeling numb, I pushed more mana into my legs and rocketed forward so I could bury my sword inside a man’s chest. I spun away from the thrust of a shabby spear, then severed both its shaft and the neck of its wielder with a single slice.

The tide of demons washed over the remaining ’defenders,’ and then we were among the houses.

Demons eagerly broke off to dive inside certain homes. The result was always a chorus of horrible screams. Somehow, the demons were unerring in their search for hidden locals, and I realized they were relying on more than conventional senses. It was likely some form of mana- or soul-sight.

Either of those things would be highly beneficial for me to develop.

Those were the exact thoughts in my head as I skewered a running woman from behind. It wasn’t that I was becoming a sadist. The opposite, in fact. I tried to flood my mind with inane ramblings to spare me from understanding the horror of my actions.

It really didn’t help.

I was all too aware of the laughter, of the crazed gloating, of the delighted expressions on the faces of my fellow ’human’ soldiers as we slaughtered our own kind.

Could we even be considered human anymore, with the literal fires of hell burning within our souls and hellish things we were doing? Judging by the expressions on the locals’ faces, the answer was probably no.

There were some five hundred souls living in that village when we arrived. By the time the last home was set aflame and the final life was snuffed out, I was responsible for the death of eleven people.

Eleven souls.

The equivalent of one hundred and ten skewers, or two nights spent in a fancy inn. The cold hard value of claiming an innocent’s life.

Our commander was ecstatic. She had her assistant take down a detailed record of every soldier’s kills, and I was surprised to find myself among people commended for ’our eager efforts to help win the bet.’ Apparently, it was the final soul-count that the sisters were interested in, rather than the strength of the opposite. It made me sick.

We didn’t take much from the village. Some soldiers hurriedly grabbed provisions. Others brought along a few interesting knickknacks. That was it. Other than the lives of all the inhabitants, of course.

A whole community lost to the senseless violence of a demonic army.

Funnily enough, everyone felt reinvigorated after our brief exertion. We still hated the sergeant’s treatment of us, but after inflicting some good ol’ senseless violence on innocent humans, we were ready to push ourselves further.

Even I wasn’t immune to this phenomenon. I knew exactly how heinous my actions were, but a part of me didn’t care, so long as I got to unleash worse suffering on others than what I was experiencing myself.

A nice cocktail of disgust and relief brewed in my chest as our pointless march continued. Disgust was rather obvious and self-explanatory. Relief, however, stemmed entirely from the fact that I had been able to do what I was ordered to do.

Earlier, I decided to advance the demon ranks. That was true enough, but I still didn’t know if I could follow through with what that meant. I wasn’t sure if I could take innocent lives without shattering, like a porcelain figure dropped by a careless child.

I now had my answer. I was, indeed, enough of a monster to survive in the demonic army. If things aligned just right, I could be monstrous enough to thrive.

All that could be had at the low cost of a bleak numbness spreading through my mind and chest.