Satan stood at the wooden door, a pitch black cloak concealing all that he was to the murky midnight air and surrounding marshy swamp. It was rare for him to leave his castle in the metropolis of Inferno without any sort of entourage, as is the life of the Devil King, leader of all demons; but this was not of normal circumstance. His hand went to knock, only lightly, for fear of breaking the whole decrepit home in half if he used even an ounce of power.
After all these years, nothing has changed.
The door pulled open before his hand made contact, revealing an older devil, his horns large and imposing, arching backward and down before curling forward and framing his face much like his own. The being stood muscled, but unlike Satan, he had a litany of old battle scars and wrinkles seemed to flirt from every possible crevice with his hair reminding of heated coal, jet black with splatters of grey ash.
Satan offered a crooked smile as he lowered his cloak from his horns, his fiery red hair flowing down to his shoulders as he did. "Kalitas; it does me well to see you, Old Friend."
"Yes, Your Eminence. I wish it was under better circumstances." Kalitas stepped aside to allow Satan to enter.
"I came as swiftly as possible. An urgent message from you can never be ignored." Satan took a step inside the small home, a meager fire showcasing all the humbled living quarters. From a small, circular wooden table with two chairs, a bed that appeared it would break if Kalitas laid on it, to the bookshelf with several grimoire's lining them; it was the home of a devil with few wants or needs - an oddity for a being whose primal instincts are to desire and create desires in others.
"The final two humans I corrupted have succumbed to their fate and their souls have been harvested."
Satan took a breath. Kalitas had been his greatest asset - from corrupting and harvesting souls, his unparalleled magical power, but most importantly, as the very mentor his Father brought in to personally teach and train him. Kalitas will not be easily replaced.
Satan's smile widened as he placed a hand on Kalitas' shoulder. "Congratulations, Old Friend. There has never been a more deserving devil of retirement. From being a war hero and going shoulder to shoulder with my Father in the Holy War battles against God and his angels to being the highest rated devil in terms of harvesting souls thereafter, you truly are a living legend amongst our ranks. Every devil and demon knows of the great Kalitas Khmer and wishes to achieve your accolades. Yes, you are a beacon of..."
"Wwwaaaaaaahhh!"
Satan's eyes raised at the interruption. "Kalitas; what was that?"
A baby boy crawled out from under the bed, a patch of brown hair adorning his scalp. It's head tilted, a pair of chocolate pupils fixed their sights briefly onto Satan in a curious manner before staring at Kalitas and crying again.
"The final two souls I collected, a Mother and a Father, both heavily addicted to drugs, overdosed. At the scene was this child, who I also thought was dead due to the parents having supplied him with drugs as well. I rapidly went to work in hopes of leaving before the angel, Azrael, came for the childs soul. Apparently, the child had breath still in his body and grabbed my cloak as I crossed the dimensional rift back here. I immediately healed him, for if he had parished while in hell, our treaty with God would have been nullified and Archangel Michael would have sent his battle angels to fetch the soul causing a war neither side could afford. Without death, we are still in compliance with the treaty, though I am thoroughly convinced if I try to take the child back, an ambush would await me on Earth." Kalitas bowed his head as he kneeled. "I have failed you, Sire. I am prepared to take responsibility for my recklessness."
Satan looked at Kalitas, knowing that any prospect of damaging the fragile treaty in place was a sentence of execution for any devil. But there was no provision for simply taking a human to hell. An intriguing loophole as no angel would have thought a devil would dare do so and one he will definitely remember. "Raise your head, Old Friend. Your swift instincts have served you well." Satan moved to one of the chairs and sat down. His fingers went to his chin in contemplation as he stared at the human child. "Now what to do with him?"
"Sire," Kalitas stood. "If not with my life, allow me to take responsibility for my transgression and care for the child."
"Here in hell?" Satan was taken aback. He never would have asked that question if it were not for the sheer surprise of Kalitas' statement. Satan knew, perhaps more than anyone, how much Kalitas hated repeating himself.
Kalitas did not answer.
"Yes, very well then," Satan gave a small nod as he stood. "Care for the child, teach it no less then you taught me. But, above all else, protect him well. A human in a devil's world would be easy prey. His death will spell war for us all and I fear our fellow devils, especially amongst the seven noble families, have fallen too comfortable in the competition of luxury to survive."
Kalitas watched as Satan left before another hungry cry came from the child. "Yes, very well then; retirement will have to be delayed." He picked up the baby boy and cradled him in his arms. He used his index finger and tickled the childs stomach eliciting a playful snicker from both participants before turning over his hand and opening his palm just as a bottle appeared. The child quickly latched onto the offered nipple, "Now what to call you?"
Kalitas stared at the baby who was staring at him. He cracked a smirk which caused the baby to smile around the bottle and wave an arm at him. It warmed his heart. His facial expression fell to one of abject seriousness, his words became a life pact, "I swear to you, I will train you in unarmed combat. I will teach you in academia." He then glanced to the grimoire filled bookshelf, "And I swear I will teach you in the ways of magic." He paused briefly, almost surprising himself with his next words, "And you will be loved, Barclay."
*
Eighteen years later:
Kalitas stood fifteen paces away from a brash teenager. His adversary was toned muscle in his typical t shirt and jeans ensemble with his feathered brown hair blowing gently in the breeze and his brown eyes piercing his own, echoing a seriousness in what was soon to come.
Quick as an eagle, Kalitas flung first his right arm forward followed by his left, both generating fireballs that hurled toward Barclay. Not content with just two, he continued the onslaught.
Barclay waved his hands, each generating a shield of water. He spun to the left as the fireballs evaporated one by one and, with a slight nod of his head, sent a hurricane sized wind at Kalitas.
The slight angle change caught Kalitas off guard and he fell onto his back, and much to his surprise, roots from the ground wrapped tightly around his body.
Barclay darted forward, taking three steps before leaping in the air. His predetermined landing zone was his right knee to the face of his opponent.
The eyes of Kalitas went wide before he flexed every muscle he had with enough force to break through the vines. At the last moment, he rolled to the right to dodge the attack. He outstretched both of his legs and spun; an attack while using his momentum to spring to his feet.
"My dear Barclay, I dare say that last attack would have broken my nose."
"Merely an offer at an improvement, Uncle," Barclay jumped back and away from the kick before stepping forward with a fire encrusted punch.
"Your sarcasm never ceases to amaze."
Kalitas pivoted left and pushed at Barclay's forearm with his left hand while his right fist sought the teens back. "How disappointing? You are wide open."
"Now Uncle, you know you taught me better than that," Barclay smiled as a block of water manifested behind his back. The punch did connect, but as it had glided through the liquid barrier, its force dissolved to nothing. He spun around, connecting with a punch of his own, splitting Kalitas's lip. "Now give up this charade; you know you cannot possibly defeat me."
"An arrogant, prideful statement spoken like a true devil," Kalitas took a step back to dodge a second punch that would have blown up his eye. He was one hundred percent on defense now, blocking and dodging a repeated barrage of fists and elbows as his feet kept giving ground. The constant pressure too much to even allow the use of his magic.
"Fact is not pride, Uncle. It is truth." Barclay smirked as he cast a water spell as he kept forcing Kalitas back. "And I am not a devil."
Two shuffled steps in reverse and Kalitas knew he was in trouble. The solid ground gave way to a heavy, sinking mud as if the ground had suffered a month of flooding. In his consternation, another punch had landed, followed quickly by another before the solid earth around the small mud hole rose and encased him like a tomb.
