Finished. Managed to get some color to it rather quickly. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

The sound of tolling bells rang throughout the chaotic cityscape, the reverberating gongs bouncing off the ruin and rubble, off the dark, twisted skyscrapers that towered over the bloodied and ashen streets. The ringing echoed a sense of relief for those that managed to survive another purge, another attempt at eternal annihilation. 

For one Sinner, who stood in the middle of a ruined street, watching the carnage come to an end, had come to hate the sound of tolling bells. He especially loathed the bells currently ringing a heavenly song. It made his walk through Pentagram City less than enjoyable.

One would question why the Sinner would even risk trekking through the city during such a time, though the Sinner would have ignored it all.

A sudden chime reminded the Sinner of the bells’ unneeded and unwanted presence. It was like a poison, one that slowly eroded one's sense of safety, even in the hellish land they were unfortunate to inhabit. First, the bells rang as a dreaded warning, reminding those that heard them that their eternal souls were forfeit. When they rang again, they didn't sing a song of relief or salvation.

No, the song the bells sang was a reminder that while you may have survived another year, the countdown simply just reset. A very heavy handed reminder as several clocktowers throughout the city had their own dials that spun back to display three-hundred and sixty-five days remaining.

None were as eye-catching and foreboding as the bright, heavenly glow emanating from the center of the city. A massive clock tower loomed all, its golden facade standing in stark contrast with the black and twisted cityscape that surrounded it. The bulk of the tower itself was a massive hourglass, with pearly-white sand floating up hauntingly into the upper half of the chamber before it started to slowly trickle back down, counting the seconds. All the while, the clocktower sitting above the hourglass continued to toll its dreadful song.

This was the song the denizens of Hell were subjected to for the last four years. Long gone were the times the bells were scarcely heard, when Heaven opened its gates to release a black scourge that blotted out the red skies of the Pride Ring when required. Now, it was scheduled. A sick reminder that those unfortunate enough to join those worthy of Hell's embrace were left to fend for themselves, to lose what humanity they may have stubbornly clung to and become the worst versions of themselves.

And all primed for uncontested slaughter.

As the bells tolled their last, the Sinner turned his eyes skyward, his icy gaze lingering on the mass of black-clothed angels that soared back into the awaiting paradise of Heaven. As they returned to their home, the Sinner was about to do the same when he saw a small group lagging behind. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the figure clad in pure white and glistening gold leading the group with a smile on his face, laughing all the way, possibly reminiscing over the total number of souls that had been claimed. 

He continued to track the group, finding it odd how the leader was one of the last to leave. Growing curious, he retraced the group's flight path, determining where they had taken off from when his nose picked up the scent of blood.

“Interesting,” he hummed to himself as he began to follow his nose. It had been ages since he last took in this specific scent. While he was surrounded by the blood of Sinners which pooled into ankle-deep puddles in the streets, this specific scent was far more different.

It was sweet, in a way, almost pure if he could put it to words, a far cry from the taint of crimson sin. As the Sinner wandered through the streets, dipping through tight alleyways and hiking over rubble, he noted that the heavenly scent was growing weaker, albeit ever so slowly, as if Hell was already corrupting it. His pace increased, his long strides clearing several feet with each measured step. He was so focused he ignored the scuttling of Sinners as they cautiously left their hasty hideaways and holes now that the danger had passed.

Many who saw him approaching were quick to hide away once more, not willing to risk crossing a being like him. Their unintentional courtesy made his hunt much easier. As he continued unabated, others were quick to voice their shock and awe at his presence.

“Oh shit!”

“The Blood Wolf!”

“Who the fuck takes a walk during an extermination?”

One unfortunate Sinner had scrambled into an unstable pile of rubble just to get away from him. Sadly for them, the pile immediately crushed them a second later.

The wandering Sinner caught sight of the accident and scoffed. While he knew his reputation was well-earned, he often wondered how many thought him as bad as his peers.

Some Sinners, however, had different reactions, ones that he had been expecting at this point.

“Hey, Boss! Are you hiring now?”

“I can fit any position you'd like! Top. Bottom. Cowgirl. Doggy-”

“I'll suck your dick for a membership!”

He continued to ignore the cacophony of fearful shrieks and ardent pleas of the masses as his senses led him down several more blocks. His nose twitched as the scent grew stronger and stronger. His blackened heart beat excitedly in his chest with each step.

When he turned the corner of the next street, something caught his eye. A discarded, horned helmet, seemingly tossed away like trash laid in the middle of the street.

“How curious,” he said as he gently picked up the helmet. Cradling it in the palm of his hand, he studied it, taking in its details. The LED mask making up the face glitched sporadically, the mouth on display switching back and forth between what the Sinner believed to be anger and remorse. He gave it a quick sniff, finding a similar scent lingering on it. A pleased smile made its way onto his muzzle as he casually crushed the helmet and tossed it away as he continued his hunt.

He knew he was getting closer. After sniffing the air to confirm his quarry was near, his ears picked up the sounds of a body stumbling in a nearby alleyway. Metal cans crashed into the ground, followed by a stream of weak curses. He entered a moment later, his eyes noting the trail of golden blood leading further in. A sudden gust blew through, tussling up and scattering a multitude of graying feathers into the wind.

“¡Mierda! Vamos, piernas, muévanse.”

His feet padded across the cold concrete ground as he followed the voice and trail of blood to its source. He noticed torn black clothes littering the ground, with several small strips dipping into the golden ichor, staining the fabric, with a black battle dress tossed into a nearby trashcan.

Coming to a stop as he reached the end of the trail, he spotted a young, pale-gray-skinned woman with short, feathery white hair that looked to be a mess, struggling to keep her balance with the aid of an angelic spear as a crutch as she moved further into the alley. Her slim figure was clothed in a long white, sleeveless shirt, whose back was stained in golden blood. Her slender legs tripped over themselves, scuffing the black leggings that covered them. As her knees hit the ground, the young woman tried to crawl, only to give up after struggling to move any further.

She pushed herself close enough to a wall right next to her, using it to prop herself up as she caught her breath. When she turned around, Roman saw her modest bust heaving, her shallow breaths trying to take in as much air as they could. Her face was angular, with a prominent slender nose in the center. Behind her messy bangs was a hollow hole where her left eye should be, with trails of gold pouring out of the corner like tears. Her remaining eye fluttered open before widening as she finally took note of who had stumbled upon her.

Much like how the Sinner had studied her, she was studying the Sinner.

She felt a deep, chilling cold run through her body as she felt his pair of icy-blue eyes trailing her injured body. He towered over her by a great deal, standing at an even eight feet tall, with a build one would easily describe as Herculean. His blood red fur blended seamlessly into the red skies of the Pride Ring, with only a hint of snowy whites painting his scarred muzzle. A singular small black horn sat near her right ear, helping keep his flowing mane of hair in place as it swept backwards in cascading tresses, with a clump hanging over his face. His powerful, fluffy tail swished through the air lazily, one of the only signs that showed how relaxed he was.

The young woman swallowed a thick lump as she once more took note of his figure which was highlighted by his attire. Deep-black plants clung to his legs with them being baggy near the knees. A slate-gray vest covered the pure white shirt underneath, both showcasing his muscular chest and arms, arms which were also covered in a pair of scratched and dented black vambraces. He had a black long coat draping over his shoulders, trimmed with gold along the lapels and cuffs, and a royal purple lining the interior. Around his neck was a matching purple scarf, with a gold scorpion encircled by a wreath sitting on a patch of black at the end.

“The Roman…” she said as her hand gripped her spear tighter. 

She cursed her luck. Of all the Sinners who could have come across her at this moment, the Roman was a potential nightmare. The Overlord had thrived in Hell for nearly two millennia, watched as others rose and fell, even going so far as to remove several power-hungry Overlords himself. She knew she was in no shape to fight, but she would do what she could against the ancient Overlord if he attacked her.

He hummed. It was a deep hum, a baritone that only a few had naturally. The one-eyed woman could even feel it in her bones, making her tense up even more. “Honestly, I just prefer Roman, if you don't mind, Miss?” Roman responded as he gestured towards the injured woman.

“Como si fuera a decirle mi nombre a alguien como tú,” she spat back with a painful hiss.

Roman didn't respond right away, nor did he react to her anger. He simply chalked it up to her pain overriding her senses. While he did ignore her words, he couldn’t ignore the way her remaining eye seemed to change. Its white sclera turned a light-orange, but her golden iris had only dimmed a little, losing its heavenly luster. It was apparent that whatever status she once held was fading from her.

His observations made, his interest moved back to the young woman in full. Roman took a step forward, ignoring the potential danger from the weapon she struggled to lift up in defense. “I have no issue if you choose to keep your name to yourself, I just thought to be courteous," he said to her. “I will simply call you Crow for the time being.”

The young woman was once more reminded of how imposing the Overlord was as his massive frame towered over her, casting a very long, expansive shadow that fell over her like a cloud hiding the sun.

Roman leaned down, his eyes locking onto her hers. “But please, do tell me how a crow ends up with clipped wings? This is such a rarity it requires investigating.” 

In all his time in Hell, Roman had never seen an angel injured to this degree. Some angels earning a few cuts to their clothes and maybe the occasional Overlord drawing blood? Yes. Even Roman himself had done some damage when defending himself, though even he knew he had to keep everything he did to an absolute minimum, lest he cause Heaven to turn their full might down upon Hell, or him specifically.

If this soul had been brought down by a Sinner, trouble was on the horizon. The only thing that made Roman discount that idea immediately was the small flock of Exorcists flying away from here as the final bell chimed. Along with the bloody wounds on the young woman’s back and the feathers that had scattered to the wind, Roman had a fairly good idea as to what happened.

He didn’t expect an answer from her, though it was something he would have appreciated having, if only to settle the worried voice in the back of his mind.

The young woman flinched in response, either due to the question itself, the freezing chill on Roman's breath, or possibly both. She didn't answer him though, instead keeping her lone eye on him,treating him like the threat he was.

Roman simply waited in return, having all the time in the world now that the fallen angel’s comrades had flown back to heaven. He watched her, seeing her face scrunch and contort in a slew of emotions, her single eye flashing through each. Anger. Resentment. Pain. Sorrow.

And regret.

The hand gripping her spear trembled as the fresh memories seemed to replay in her mind. Her lips quivered briefly before a scowl marred her features.

As the young woman was dealing with her pain, Roman couldn't help but feel for her as his own memories returned to him.

Flashes of steel.

The fearful cries of falling bodies.

The series of curses being directed at him and the mad pair of eyes lingering on him as the light faded from them.

The roaring cheers and bloody sand.

Cold steel piercing his heart.

“If you're going to kill me then just do it already.” The woman's voice broke Roman free from his trance. He came back to her single eye glaring at him, a hint of defiance and resignation within it.

To her surprise, the Overlord’s shoulders seemed to sag ever so slightly as a deep sigh escaped his lips. “Vita est donum, Crow…” He stepped forward, causing her to tense up in response. She held her spear at the ready, the gleaming silver tip pointed shakily at Roman, who simply ignored the weapon and even gently brushed it aside with his blackened hand. His crimson-tipped claws slid along the length of the spearhead and down the black shaft before breaking away. “Your life is not yet forfeit, crow.”

Roman then kneeled down in front of her, his towering form hunched over her. Even then, she still had to crane her head up just to look him in the eye.

“Dying would be too easy.” Roman slowly raised his other hand, keeping it in the woman's limited sightline as he reached for her face. “The ones we once served often leave us in our anguish, thinking we will simply roll over and accept death like a wounded dog.”

As one of his clawed fingers neared her face, the woman snarled and tried to pull away from him, only to turn into the wall she was leaning against. That didn't deter Roman, who simply continued to reach for her.

“It is obvious you did something your master disagreed with.” Instead of pain like she expected, the woman felt Roman’s claw gently brush up against her cheek, wiping away the golden blood that trailed down it. “Perhaps you simply saw a different way. Or maybe you stopped believing in the cause.”

She watched as the small trickle of blood Roman collected rolled across his claw and into the palm of his hand. It soon hovered above it, as if commanded to do so before twisting and turning into various shapes.

Roman's icy eyes watched the blood dance at his command for a moment before turning back towards the injured woman before him. “We, the ones branded as traitors, must come to a simple understanding when we make a stand and are left behind because of it,” he said to her.

As he spoke kindly to her, the woman was feeling conflicted. The Overlord in front of her was a far cry from the stories she had heard before. He was a Sinner. He was the living embodiment of mankind's evil choices. More than that, he was an Overlord, one who owned and claimed the souls of others to increase his power and standing in Hell.

Yet here he was, already knowing what she was and had every right to end her, and yet he hadn't once shown any sign of aggression towards her. While a part of her mind felt grateful for the signs of compassion, a single thought kept her grounded.

This was a trick. A charade done in order for her to drop her guard. It was something she had seen Sinners do in the past, with some tossing others straight into the sight of Exorcists if it meant gaining even an extra second to flee.

Even with her mind in turmoil, a part of her felt compelled to know what he meant. “And that understanding is?”

The small orb of golden blood vanished before her eyes, seeping into Roman's hands as he answered her, “That we live on. That is the cleanest revenge we can ever achieve.”

He then reached out with both arms, one hand gripping her shoulder as the other moved behind her. She felt that hand press itself against her back. A hiss escaped her lips as she felt something in her body shift. She dropped her spear and found herself clinging to the Overlord as she was left at his mercy.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the pain she felt had vanished. The once-wet spot on her back had suddenly become dry. She was about to question it when she saw Roman's hand move into her vision, with a much larger orb of golden blood hovering over it.

Roman stared at the orb, studying it briefly before causing it to be absorbed into his hand. “That should hide your nature for now, Crow,” he said as he looked back at the fallen angel. “Others may not be as kind as I am should they learn that gold colors your veins.”

The fallen angel rolled her shoulders, flexing her back and noticed that the pain had faded. She winced at how unbalanced she still felt, but the relief that the pain was gone reminded her of her current situation and the pair of arms she laid in. She tried to stand up, to push herself away from Roman when a sudden wave of exhaustion claimed her. Her lone eye turned to Roman's, her feather lashes fluttering as she struggled to stay awake. “W-what did you do, cabrón?”

Roman didn’t flinch at the level of distrust aimed at him. He stood back up, ignoring the woman’s continued sleepy glare as he dragged her up with him. He leaned her against the wall and shrugged off his coat, draping it over her as he answered her. “I simply sped up the rate your body healed in order to hide your scars. They shouldn’t be as prominent to a casual observer.” After placing his coat over her, Roman gave her a once over, almost finding the sight of his large coat practically engulfing the young woman’s body entirely quite humorous. “I should have warned you that it would leave you rather tired afterwards.”

“You fucking think?” She shot back, unconsciously tugging his coat tighter.

Roman’s ears suddenly twitched as he heard a rather melodious voice in the wind. It was calling out to those around it, carrying a great deal of care and worry in it. The fallen angel watched on, confused by the Overlord’s attention shifting as quickly as it did. Her eye flitted between him and her spear which was still laying on the ground beside her. Her fingers gripped the lapels of Roman’s coat as she fought back the urge to reach for her weapon.

She fought back the urge, something that a part of her hated. The face of a scared child flashed through her mind, followed by her act of mercy that was met with burning fury and hatred.

Her mercy cost her everything. And now, someone she never expected to show mercy, let alone a shred of kindness, offered it to her freely, simply because he said he shared her pain.

As the fallen angel dealt with the conflict within her, Roman heard the melodious voice coming closer.

“Does anyone need help? Are you alright sir?”

“Fuck off bitch!”

“Sorry. I just wanted to help.”

Roman tried to put a name and a face to the voice, running through the long list of notable people he had met in his long afterlife. None immediately came to mind, but rumors of Hell’s royal black sheep floated to the surface. From what he remembered was that this princess was more than just an oddity, or a failure in the eyes of her people, she was a dreamer. Someone who, naively, saw good in the darkness around her.

Roman’s eyes casually glanced back to the fallen angel as the princess drew closer. He saw the conflict in her heart, the lost look in her eye as she tried to make sense of what led her to this point. A part of him felt he had already done enough, that to do more was simply too great to ask of him. As his gaze lingered on the angel, on her lone eye and hollow socket, he crushed that incessant voice within him.

He remembered how long he felt lost after his first century in Hell, at how long it took him to simply live after suffering. With that in mind, Roman slid a hand behind the fallen angel, and with a gentle nudge he pushed her towards the alley’s entrance. 

As the young woman nearly tripped on her feet from the sudden jostling, she heard Roman whisper into her ear.

“Memento vivere, Crow.”

She turned her head, only to see that Roman had vanished. Because of her lack of focus and exhausted state, she ended up falling to the ground, letting out a pained grunt as her body slammed into it. The noise she made attracted the attention of a tall, pale young woman who passed by in time to see the fallen angel on the ground.

“Oh my gosh, are you alright?” The fallen angel let out a groan as she turned to face the voice.

Through her half-lidded eye, she saw a pair of red eyes looking down at her, carrying a deep level of concern in them. Rosy-red cheeks stretched as a pair of thin black flips opened in shock, revealing a pair of pearly-white fangs. In her current state, the fallen angel swore that the other woman’s long, pale golden hair seemed to shine with a heavenly glow from the blazing sun that hovered in the Pride Ring’s red sky.

She then heard the other woman let out a gasp and the rustling of a coat. She saw the golden-haired woman shed her bright red coat, revealing a white long-sleeved shirt that did little to hide her ample bust. The woman tore off one of her sleeves, turning it into a makeshift bandage as she wrapped it around the fallen angel’s head, covering up her hollow socket.

“There, that should help until I can get you some real medical care,” the golden-haired woman said with a kind smile.

The fallen angel stared at the princess in awe. Once more, she was shown just how Hell could surprise her, with two demons showing a great deal of humanity within them. She struggled to find the words she needed to say. When she did, they came out with a stammer, as if she truly didn’t know how to really respond to the level of pure kindness she was shown, “T-thanks. I appreciate it…”

The princess’ smile turned shy as she moved a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. “I’m just glad I could help,” she said. Her eyes lingered on the fallen angel’s. “I know the extermination is rough to go through.” Her eyes then directed themselves to the ground, landing on the heavenly spear laying on the ground. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of it.”

The gray-skinned woman’s brows curled upward, wondering what the princess meant when she turned to look at her spear. Her lone eye widened a fraction when she noticed that the angelic metal tip was stained in dark crimson blood, which almost looked black whenever the light stopped shining on it. Her mind ran through how that was possible when she remembered Roman manipulating her blood.

She reached for her spear robotically, picking it up and stared at the diamond-shaped spearhead for a moment, wondering what his game was.

The Overlord’s question reverberated in her mind. While she never gave him an answer, she knew he came close to the truth with his observations.

“I-it’s okay. I w-was just caught off guard,” she replied, offering up a little of the truth.

The princess accepted the young woman’s words easily enough it seemed as she placed a gentle hand on her shoulders. “Well, let’s go get you looked at. After that, we’ll get you right back home,” she said as she helped the young woman up and guided her out of the alley.

At the mention of home, the young woman came to a sudden stop, causing the princess to look at her in concern. “I don’t have a home here. I-I’m kinda new,” she said with a strained voice.

The smile on the princess’ face never faltered. If anything, it grew even wider. Even her eyes were sparkling. “That’s wonderful!” Realizing how that sounded, the princess flinched as she corrected herself. “I-I mean it’s actually wonderful, it’s actually kinda bad. Like, really bad, but…” She moved in front of the young woman, her arms spread wide as she continued, “I have plenty of room at my place! It’s a little bit of a fixer-upper right now, but I could use the company. You can stay with me while you get used to being here!”

The fallen angel was about to respond when the princess leaned in close and held her hands together. “Please say yes!” She pleaded. “I’m a good host, I swear!”

The first thing out of the fallen angel's mouth wasn’t words. Instead of answering right away, she found herself laughing at the princess’s plea and the rather cute puppy-dog pout she wore. “I guess I can’t say no-”

She suddenly found the wind knocked out of her as a pair of thin arms wrapped themselves around her. Taken aback by the princess’ apparent strength, the fallen angel wheezed when she then found herself being swung through the air as the princess’ enthusiasm grew.

“Awesome!” The princess cheered. She set the fallen angel back onto the ground, keeping her steady from her forceful shift in equilibrium. “I know Hell may seem like the worst place you can end up-” She stopped herself when she realized she was staring off on the wrong foot. “I mean, it can be a little rough in a lot of places, but there is some good hidden deep inside.”

Seeing the look of disbelief on the fallen angel’s face, the Princess of Hell switched gears. She brought a hand to her chest. “Hi. I’m Charlie,” she said with a gentle smile.

Finding it hard not to smile in return, the fallen angel introduced herself, though there was a notable pause before she spoke, “Vaggie.”

Above the pair, perched at the edge of a rooftop, Roman watched on with a curious eye. It was his first time seeing the Princess of Hell with his own eyes. He first started with her physical traits. While he saw several traits that were Lilith’s, the princess shared many more physical qualities with her father. It was jarring in a way. Her voice truly was melodious, almost light in a way. That quality he was sure came from her mother.

The absolute kindness she displayed was something else entirely though. It confused him greatly to even see such a thing.

It wasn’t that kindness was rare in Hell, it was that it carried an underlying selfishness that defined it. A chance to gain something that benefited one person over the other. The greatest oddity was that the hellborn demons of this realm were more human than the souls that fell in a way. But to see such pure kindness from a denizen of Hell, especially from the daughter of Lucifer, caused a stir in the Overlord’s heart. It excited him. 

It was something new. A refreshing change of pace he hadn’t experienced in a long while. It was a shame she lived where she did. Hell was quick to break down even the gentlest of souls any chance it got.

Roman was worried that the fire burning in the princess’ heart would dwindle too quickly. He wondered how she would change should such a thing happen.

His eyes then landed on Vaggie. Overhearing her brief confession helped fill in some missing pieces, giving him a clearer view of her fall. He felt for her, he truly did. Now, it was up to her to figure out what to do from here.

“Valē, Vaggie. Let us see where the afterlife takes you, should we ever meet again.” With his words shared to the wind, Roman was ready to leave when a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

A deep growl escaped Roman’s lips at the sound of the sickly sweet voice. “Quid loqueris, Phasma?”

The voice didn’t reply. Instead, it came back with a light, taunting laugh before fading.

Roman closed his eyes, schooling his features as he tried to ignore the lingering sounds of laughter echoing in the back of his mind. His hands clenched tightly, the tips of his claws digging into the palms of his hands, deep enough to draw blood, doing anything he could to keep his mind elsewhere.

Without a word, he turned away, the former smile on his muzzle now set into an impassive flat line. The phantom voice had caused his mood to sour greatly and he needed to focus on something worthwhile. On top of that, he had spent long enough wandering the streets of the city and it was time to return home. There was still much work to be done and Roman was sure he had worried his staff enough with his absence.

Dark embers emanated from him as shadows consumed his body. His body vanished from sight, with only the sound of the wind and dancing black embers being left behind in his wake.

Teal cloven-hooves clacked against alabaster stone, a long white and black furry tail, tipped with teal ends swished with a gentle sway, matching the rhythm of the sinful hips it was attached to and raising the tight, black mini-skirt up enough to show off those lovely curves. Ample breasts bounced with each step, constrained in a sleeveless, ruffled crop top which displayed the swell of the underside of her breasts. Around her neck, bouncing with her breasts was a little brass bell attached to a thin collar, hypnotizing all who heard it to pause their prep work in order to watch the succubus-baphomet hybrid move across the club. A snow-white muzzle twitched, the corners of a luscious mouth curling into a light frown as onyx-colored eyes set in a sea of shining teal scanned the screen of a tablet.

“Del, how are you looking with the restock?” Asked a melodious voice that caused anyone who heard it to shiver in pleasure.

The target of the question, a slim imp with neatly-combed and swept-back ebony hair, blending with the curves of his small horns, leaned against the bar he was stationed behind. His sharp claws rapped rhythmically against the smooth counter as his face scrunched up in thought. “Everything’s good, Matrona,” he replied. “I think some of the Sinners got into the stock earlier, so we’re down a few cases of the Affordable Beer.”

The hybrid’s right arm rose, revealing the purple, gold-trimmed armband wrapped around it. Black cloven fingers adjusted a large pair of white-rimmed circular glasses as a deep sigh escaped the hybrid’s lips. Her floppy goat ears flicked in distaste at the news, one of the only visual tells she had aside from the teal flame burning in between the crests of her curled-back horns burning a bit more intensely before settling. “... Was it the Doomers?”

Del shook his head. “Nah. Say what you will about them, they at least respect the Bossman’s rules. I got their signatures on file for their order.”

The hybrid ran her hand through the messy black and teal-tipped locks of hair that framed her furry face. “Then I will have some Custodes go through the security cams to see who had the balls to sneak off with our stock.” Looking back at her tablet, the hybrid’s eyes landed on the clock at the top right corner. She bit her lip as she noted the time, knowing full well that Roman was out longer than he should be.

She knew he would be fine. He was an ancient Overlord for a reason, he knew how to survive in Hell for as long as he did.

He just happened to enjoy taking small walks -his words- and went where the wind took him. She knew it as he was bored and wanted to see if something interesting happened.

She just wished he didn’t take walks during an extermination. After the third time he did it, she just told him to be back at a reasonable time. While it was strange for a demon to make such a demand to an Overlord who could erase her from Hell, Roman always took her words seriously and was always sure to keep her in the loop and trusted her to handle things in his absence.

It’s why she was his right-hand woman, the matron of his home and business. It’s how their relationship had developed and grown into it over time.

Before she could think on it further, a sudden chill filled the air. The multitude of Sinners and Hellborn stopped their work, their heads snapping towards the hybrid as black embers appeared behind her, emerging from the foot of her shadow. A large, clawed hand perched itself on her shoulder as another began to trace her jawline, causing her to stand a bit straighter and shiver in pleasure at the touch.

“Paenitemus, Asha,” Roman said as he finished materializing behind the Hellborn. “I realize how late I am, but I ran into something truly interesting during my walk.”

Snapping out of the trance she found herself in, Asha spun on her heel and was quick to snatch the end of Roman’s scarf in one smooth motion. She gave it a tug, met heavy resistance, and grumbled at the fact that the Overlord didn’t even budge. She tugged it again as a rather cute pout forming on her face which made the scene all the more comical.

Letting out a deep huff to curtail his laughter, Roman obliged Asha after a few more tugs and leaned down a smidge, his head hovering just above hers, showcasing how much taller he was than the already tall hybrid.

Asha’s tail swayed excitedly, betraying the frustration she was supposed to be feeling at the moment. “Don’t you use that sexy dead language with me, Roman,” she chided him. She rose on her cloven toes, barely rising a few inches but enough to almost be muzzle to muzzle with him. “You. Are. Late.”

“As I said, I ran into something rather interesting,” Roman reiterated, his smile never faltering.

Before Asha could retort, Roman slid a hand under her shapely ass and lifted her up with ease. A surprised gasp escaped her with the sudden movement and she wrapped her arms around Roman’s neck. Her black wings fluttered wildly as Roman spun around.

The hybrid moaned when Roman’s hand gave her cheeks a squeeze. The teal flames above her crown flickered with a pink hue as amorous thoughts filled her mind.

“I shall make it up to you, delicia mea,” Roman whispered into her ear. “For worrying you so.”

Asha let out a cute ‘baa’ as she rubbed the tip of her nose against Roman’s. “That’s cheating using that sexy dead language of yours and you know it.” Despite her words, that didn’t stop her from crashing her lips against Roman’s. “It gets-” She started to grind against his body. “-me all-” Her silky black mini-skirt slid up her curves, revealing the thin teal cloth of the thong she was wearing as her sex rubbed up against Roman’s arm. “-hot~.”

“WOO~!”

“Get it, Boss!”

“Got room for one more?”

The moment slightly ruined, Asha broke the series of deep kisses she was giving Roman and turned her head. Her bar-shaped pupils thinned as her eyes narrowed, glowing with a deep power. The teal and pink flame turned a violent red as she began to growl, “FUCK OFF AND GET BACK TO WORK! WE OPEN OUR DOORS IN LESS THAN A FUCKING HOUR AND I WON’T HAVE ANY OF YOU MUCK UP OUR REPUTATION!”

The mixed group of demons stood frozen in place, suffering the backlash of Asha’s power flowing through her voice. Seeing no one move an inch, Roman shook his head and cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him while Asha slumped in his arms, letting him take the reins. “You heard the matrona,” he said in a firm voice. “Finish up your tasks and get ready to open. If you need to relieve your stress, wear the correct armbands in the Den or wait until after your shift.”

With the command given, Roman’s staff got back to work. He and Asha watched as the clubroom bustled with movement once more. Pleased with the increased pace everyone was working, the two were about to continue their conversation when they noted the presence of a female Sinner standing next to them. There was a wide smile on the Sinner’s face as she looked up at the pair expectantly.

“Soooo is there room for one more?” She asked the pair in a cute, rather warbly voice.

Roman and Asha just looked at her, their eyes running up and down the Sinner’s body, studying her every curve and feature. The Sinner had grayish-brown skin, with short black tentacle appendages for hair each tipped in either sky-blue or bubble-gum pink, with a clump of them pulled back into a mess puff, and several tentacles covering her right eye. Her left eye was a kaleidoscope of colors set in a sea of black. Her curvaceous body filled out the standard female Servus uniform nicely, with her chestless white leotard clinging to her like a second skin, her black, lacy bra struggling to contain the large pair of breasts she had, and the tiny, white waist apron stopping just below her sex, revealing a pair of shapely legs in black, lacy stockings. Finishing off her look was a black armband that was wrapped securely around her left arm.

Sharing a look between each other, Roman and Asha nodded in silent agreement.

“”You can join later, um-” Asha said with a yawn as the teal flame dwindled to a small, flickering ember. She racked her brain as she struggled to remember the Sinner as a bout of lethargy started to settle in.

“Elli,” Roman added helpfully as he easily recognized the Sinner under his employ.

“Yeah, Elli.” Asha nodded her head in thanks before addressing Elli. “Put in a few hours and come up to the office later.”

Elli’s smile grew wide, showcasing her sharp teeth as she turned and walked away with an extra bounce in her step, giving Roman and Asha a show as she did.

Asha lazily laid her head against Roman’s shoulder. “We haven’t had a threesome with her yet, have we?” She asked him.

“Non,” he replied after running through the mental list of the employees and Sinners under contract that he and Asha had fooled around with over the years. Elli was a new Sinner under contract and had proven to be a hard worker. “Though she has been wanting to join in, she has just been too nervous to ask before.” He also remembered she was a major voyeur and would often stop in the middle of work in order to watch some of the action happening around her.

That also meant she liked to clock in time as one of Roman’s personal Servi, meaning she mostly watched or listened in on who he was doing. Not that he minded in the slightest.

Asha let out a pleased hum and continued to rest her head on Roman’s shoulder. The Overlord realized how tired she was and how much energy she used up trying to keep things in order while he was gone. On top of that, he knew she worried -unnecessarily- about him and his tendency to walk through chaos and carnage. 

Before deciding to take her back to his private booth in the Den, he looked around the Forum’s clubroom one last time, watching his staff move about to get things ready. The massive chamber was immaculate as always, with alabaster stone lining the floors and walls, with hints of reds and blacks painting the walls in between the columns running along the edges. Red, black, and purple tapestries hung from the ceiling, each lined with gold detailing of wolves, symbols of sins, and a stylistic scorpion, all sitting in wreaths. It reminded him of his old home, something he strived to make true and was proud to see every time he stepped into the Forum.

In sections around the room were various booths and tables, capable of seating couples, groups, and large gatherings of guests that could walk through the club’s doors. A group of Servus Sinners and Helborns manning the expansive bar worked diligently, refilling the shelves with various bottles of alcohol, much of which was produced by Roman’s own wineries and breweries. Another group entered and exited the kitchen nearby the bar, letting in the delicious aroma of food being prepared for cooking. Near the large dancefloor situated in the center of the room was the stage, where tonight’s entertainment was running through their final checks, some of the entertainers plucking the strings of their instruments while others tested the sounds of their horns.

Pleased with how things were progressing, Roman casually glanced over his shoulder and addressed Del. “You have the floor, Del.”

The imp just waved at Roman, silently accepting his new charge while working with the other staff to ensure everything was ready.

With everything set, Roman took a step forward, summoning forth more black flames that enveloped him and Asha. One moment the pair were in the Forum and the next Asha saw Roman’s luxurious office that overlooked the Den.

Tall, open windows vibrated as rhythmic music from the club bounced off them, with dim blue, red, and purple lights softly filtering through them, painting the room into an aurora of colors. Roman carried Asha across the room, passing by the circular couch that sat around an elevated platform with a black metal pole in the center. He climbed several steps and continued to the lavish bed that was garbed in the finest silk one could afford. 

Roman gently laid Asha on top of the black comforter and tried to step back, only to be stopped by the hybrid who refused to let him go. Despite her growing exhaustion, she still had the cling to him.

“Asha, you need to rest while I handle things from here,” he said to her. “You overworked yourself and let your passion burn too much.”

Asha responded by clinging to him tighter and nuzzled her face against his neck. “Gone too long. Super worried,” she mumbled, another sign of the exhaustion catching up to her. “Coat’s gone.”

Roman started to rub the curve of her spine. “I donated it,” he explained. “Possibly a future investment.”

Asha perked up a little at that, a sleepy, knowing smile appearing on her muzzle as she gazed into his eyes. “She hot?” Asha asked, digging for more information.

“She was rather beautiful, yes,” he replied. He gave his paramour a teasing smile. “Since you find my native tongue sexy, you’ll find hers just as much if the Spanish I heard is anything to go by.”

A happy baa escaped Asha’s lips at that added fact, being quite pleased by it. “Nice.” She leaned in close to Roman and pressed her lips against his. “Also, super sexy tongue does super sexy things other than talk,” she said as she pulled away.

“I am to please,” Roman said with a proud smirk. Placing his hands on the hybrid’s shoulders and gently pushed her onto the bed, breaking her hold on him. He reached for her glasses, folded the temples, and put them on the surface of the dark wood nightstand right next to the bed. He then took away her tablet, ensuring she wouldn’t be tempted to work. “Now rest. Once I open the doors and ensure everything is running smoothly, we shall rekindle those flames of yours.”

“‘M not too tired for a quickie,” Asha tried to argue.

Roman shook his head fondly at her attempts. “Non,” he said firmly, “you have worked hard enough due to my curiosity leading me astray. Rest. Rest and think of how you wish for me to rekindle that flame of yours.”

Asha moved like a blur, rolling onto her stomach as she rested her cheek against Roman’s cushiony pillow, sliding her arms underneath it as her tail lifted her skirt before settling. Roman noticed that Asha had even shed her teal-colored thong and tossed it away, only for it to land on his shoulder. “FDAU,” she stated before she succumbed to sleep, all while she arched her back to present her pillowy tush.

The Overlord spent a few minutes watching over her, always amused by how honest her body was with its desires. Asha continued to lay there in the same pose, not once faltering or tossing and turning to find a more comfortable position, her ass and pussy on full display, ready to be fucked. With a huff, Roman simply attributed it to her hybrid nature, a baphomet that could sleep anywhere and a succubus ready to be taken in any way.

Stepping away from the bed, he set his mind on his tasks. He held up Asha’s tablet and checked over the work she had already finished. As he neared the wall of windows looking out into the club below, Roman stopped in his tracks and watched as scantily-clad Servi, all wearing a variety of armbands in blacks, pinks, and reds got things ready or warmed each other up for their future guests. Armed Custodes, Roman’s security force, covered the entrances to the club, the backstage access for the Whiteband Performers, the two elevators that led to the rented rooms and security bunkers, and the entrances to the private parts of the villa reserved for Roman’s top performers and highest ranking members.

Like the Forum, the Den was styled in a classical Roman architectural aesthetic, though instead of clear, soft lights that were warm and inviting, the Den had lights that truly helped set the mood. Instead of a large stage meant to provide casual entertainment or host shows, the Den’s stage was meant to entice Roman’s guests, showcasing the various Sinner and Hellborn performers under his employ. Tables and booths were designed in such a way that gave guests and staff enough room to have some fun when the mood finally struck. Roman’s eyes raised, and peered at the platforms that hovered over the east and west side of the club, private booths for special members of the club, and watched as each booth was thoroughly cleaned and prepared for potential use.

Where the Forum was a perfect representation of Roman’s desire for a relaxed, sociable place to gather and forget one’s woes, the Den was the representation of his carnal appetites. His expansive villa, divided into two clubs to provide the denizens of Hell different experiences based on their needs and desires.

It had taken millennia for the Overlord to carve out a little slice of paradise in Hell for himself, to deal with his own internal struggles to come to the simple philosophy of living his life how he saw fit. The Den and the Forum was the complete picture of that. While he knew he was an oddity even in Hell as he still abided by rules and structure, Roman attributed that to his upbringing, the morals and ethics of his home and how he adapted them, and of the battles he fought when he finally arrived in the Pride Ring, of the trail of blood he left in his wake when he rose.

“Memento vivere.” Repeating the words he shared with Vaggie, Roman settled his mind before he could fall into his memories. He ignored the way his right hand shook, something he had been fighting to hide since he returned to his expansive villa. 

Heavenly blood was always a mess to interact with. It burned in such a way that his damned soul felt it. It had been a while since he felt such a burn, but it was a pain he was willing to tolerate, if only to help keep Vaggie safe. He had meant it when he said she was an investment. He wanted to see where her life would take her.

And while he had many coats like the one he loaned her, he hoped she would be courteous enough to return it in person. Whether or not it happened would be left to be discovered in the future. Roman was in no rush.

When the searing pain subsided, Roman returned to his work, checking on his holdings and ensuring that the Den opened to the public once more. After pouring himself a glass of his personal whiskey, he took a seat at his couch and scrolled through Asha’s tablet. He updated his staff list first, marking down those who had perished in the extermination, which was thankfully a low number of thirteen Sinners this year. He also knew he lost several Hellborn and marked them as well. While Hellborn were not to be targeted by Exorcists, Roman knew collateral damage was inevitable and that the man in charge of the murderous flock would simply use that as a defense for the losses.

Each loss of a Sinner would usually mean a decrease in power for an Overlord, but Roman was far different than his peers. As he sat on his couch, he raised his free hand and held it up. In the soft light of his private booth, several shadowy blurs rushed across the floor and walls. They all stopped at his shadow, as if waiting for their next instruction. Roman curled his raised hand into a fist, an action mimicked by his shadow.

The other shadows blurred, merging with Roman’s, causing it to expand before shrinking back down to size and settled.

With a deep breath, Roman lowered his hand. “Requiescere, lapsos,” he whispered and let a solemn air settle within the room. As the silence lingered, Roman continued his work.

Minutes ticked on as he got lost in the numbers and orders, tracking the production of his wine and other beverages before they got sent throughout the rings. His eyes roamed his membership list, double checking which of his patrons needed to pay for their memberships and who needed to be dropped or raised a tier based on their behavior and financial status. Placing the tablet on the cushion next to him as he finished his work, Roman noted the time.

With five minutes until showtime, he stood from his seat and stretched, letting out a pleased groan as the stiffness left his body. He moved in front of a tall mirror, checked and adjusted his clothes, and took a step, disappearing in motes of black flames.

His foot landed on warm stone as a breeze brushed up against him. A cacophony of voices filled the air as his eyes beheld a massive crowd of Sinners and Hellborn demons standing in the expansive garden that led to the Forum’s doors. He stood at the top step, hands behind his back and surveyed everything before him. 

He recognized many in the sea of faces, some he was happy to see while others he was either neutral about. Occasionally he spotted some he had rather negative opinions about, but they knew to behave and hadn’t yet drawn his ire. After noting his regular members he spotted several unfamiliar faces that seemed completely lost as to why they were here. It was obvious to him that they must be new in Hell, either arriving a week or two before the extermination and were still coming to grips with their new afterlife, or right after the heavenly mandated genocide and simply got swept up with the bustling crowd that made its way here.

One Sinner spotted Roman and shook the shoulder of the person next to them, starting a chain of Sinners and Hellborn stopping their conversations as they all turned their attention to the Overlord.

Roman stood a bit taller, his shoulders squared and chin raised. Adding a bit of magic to enhance his voice in order to project it further, he spoke, a resounding boom as he greeted the crowd, “Bonum vesperum, fellow demons, lost souls, and sinful pleasure seekers. To the many familiar faces here today, it is truly a pleasure to see that you have survived Heaven’s yearly purge.” He placed his right hand over his heart and gave the crowd a small bow as the crowd cheered at his words. While it was a simple greeting and there were only a few he would mourn should they pass, he would allow the masses their victory.

He stood up straight again and held out his hand, signaling the crowd to settle down. “Ita, hic mortui vivunt. We live this day, another year of our living vengeance against Heaven. To thrive in this, our perdition!” Roman raised both arms and spread them open. At his signal, his power flared, the doors leading to the Forum swinging open at his command. “So come. Eat. Drink. Partake in each other’s company and find relief in this little slice of paradise carved out for you.”

Eager faces greeted him, waiting for his word to enter his clubs. Some of the older souls gravitated towards the Forum while the younger ones and the most charged were bouncing on their heels as they inched closer to the pathway leading to the Den.

Knowing how pent up and antsy some of his guests were, as was usual hours after an extermination, Roman was quick to lay down the law. He didn’t mind people satiating their desires, but he did mind when they crossed the line. This was Hell, yes, but he had decorum and he expected others to follow it within his territory.

“Bear in mind, should anyone prove to be… improper, then they will find themselves within the streets,” he warned. Many flinched at the deep, unsettling growl emanating from Roman as a chill filled the air. “And will be lucky if they keep a limb or two.”

Just as suddenly as the chill in the air appeared, it quickly dissipated, leaving the crowd of Sinners and Hellborn to feel a sense of relief when the Overlord restrained his power.

“To those coming to terms with their new afterlife…” Putting on a smile, Roman held out his hand and addressed the new faces in the crowd. “Grata ad Infernum.”

With his piece said, he left things in the hands of his staff and disappeared from view. A moment later, he reappeared in his private booth overlooking the Den. His icy-blue eyes immediately landed on Asha, who was still in her readied pose, waiting for him to return, all while wearing a peaceful expression on her face. Roman slid his tongue along his lips. As he moved towards the bed, he shed his clothes, tossing them haphazardly across the room. He took his place on the bed behind his paramour, his thick, meaty cock sliding in between her pillowy cheeks. Gripping the base of his cock and taking aim at Asha’s slick slit, Roman couldn’t help but smile and think of where his afterlife will take him.

But that was for tomorrow. For now, he had a Hellborn hybrid in desperate need of a good fucking, and he was going to show his all appreciation and love for the young woman who helped him keep things running smoothly in his little helladise.

¡Mierda! Vamos, piernas, muévanse - Shit! Come on, legs, move.

Como si fuera a decirle mi nombre a alguien como tú - As if I’d tell someone like you my name

Vita est donum, Crow - Life is a gift, Crow

Memento vivere, Crow - Remember to live, Crow

Valē - Farewell

Quid loqueris, Phasma - Why do you speak, Phantom

Matrona - Matron

Paenitemus - Apologies

Delicia mea - My delight/my darling

Non - No

Requiescere, lapsos - Rest, fallen ones

Bonum vesperum - Good evening

Ita, hic mortui vivunt - Yes, here the dead live.

Grata ad Infernum - Welcome to Hell

Striking while the iron's hot.

Had the drive to get Asha, an OC character made for this potential Hellaverse story made. Not going to be able to get much drawing or writing done in the next few days, so I'm glad I managed to get her worked out.

Asha is a succubus-baphoment hybrid, a hard worker, and a deep sleeper whenever her torch dwindles to a few embers. As Roman's right-hand woman, she is the next person in charge of his territories (mostly his club) whenever he is out.

Had this idea for a Hellaverse story. As much as I liked the initial ideas and concepts that Hazbin and Helluva Boss had, they kinda fell flat in a lot of areas. Thank goodness for fanfiction. This is mostly a fun idea to work with, with the concept of following Roman, an Overlord and former Praetorian Guard who is simply trying to life whatever afterlife he can while getting dragged into the affairs of his part-time employees and patrons of his social/adult club.

Again, this is mostly for fun and would be worked on when I have the steam for it (I swear, this whole fucking summer has been an absolute kill on my motivations. I'm starting to pick up steam again, so I hoping my production quantity matches the quality I strive for.)

Hopefully, you all will enjoy this story should I start doing some writing for it. Here is Roman himself so you can see what I'm working with in my mind.

Have a good one, and let me know what you think.