Chapter Five: Belial

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MEDIA:

Death Note Theme.

This, in my eyes, is Belial's Theme (I'll leave it you to decide whether or not he is worthy of such an amazing theme :3)

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When Faustus Belial stared down at the three cowering mongrels kneeling before him, he felt nothing but dissatisfaction. Still, he sat as he usually did, with his back straight, hands resting against the wide arms of his throne which allowed him to tower above those who came forth to address him.

The throne provided him with a natural sense of superiority, something Belial himself considered essential, especially given the positon he upheld. But while looming over the inferior scum gave him a sense of authority, it failed to cast aside the feelings of rage and displeasure which coursed throughout his entire being.

'Explain yourselves,' he said. His words were directed to the four cloaked men sitting below.

One of the men - who Belial assumed was the band's ringleader - raised his head, unveiling the look of fear plastered across his face. A single bead of sweat trailed down his forehead as he went to address his superior. 'W-well, sir...we lost the asset.'

Belial's gaze narrowed at the mongrel's response. 'You lost it?'

'Yes. B-but, I can assure you...there is a perfectly reasonable explanation behind it!'

'Oh?' The corner of his lips twitched. 'Do tell.'

'We had retrieved what you asked us to, and we were on our way back here when we were ambushed.'

'And who, pray tell, ambushed you?'

'I-it was The Cryptess,' the man explained, his voice trembling. 'The masked vigilante of Bayloch. She...well, she overwhelmed us with her power, sir. Her magical power...'

Belial opened his mouth to respond when something stirred directly beside him, causing his eyes to wander. An armoured woman with long silver hair and cold, calculating features took a step forward.

'You have failed his highness,' she said. In her hands was a tall spear, which she brandished above her head, executing a series of complicated manoeuvres which reflected both her skills and experience. 'For that, you must pay! Prepare to experience pain before your own-'

'Be calm, Shirin!'

It was the commanding bark of Belial's voice which caused Shirin to freeze. She lowered her weapon and straightened up, taking a moment to regain her lost composure. 'Of course, sire,' she said, her thin eyes narrowing even further. 'Please forgive my rash actions.'

'Yes, yes. Of course. You're forgiven.' Waving away her apology, Belial looked back at the men. 'Let us give these fools a chance to redeem themselves.' He gave a cunning smile and gestured with his hand. 'Please, elucidate further.'

The bandit leader exchanged looks with his comrades, whose panic-stricken expressions amused Belial, and managed a slight smile as he twisted back round. 'T-thank you, sir. Well, uh, we encountered The Cryptess, and engaged in battle with her, but, like I said before, we were overwhelmed. She stole the key.'

'But...' One of the other men took the opportunity to interject. He looked up in time to meet Belial's red-eyed gaze. 'We managed to disperse of her using Wyverix Poison. Only the most talented of magic physicians can heal it, and considering how quickly the poison itself takes effect, there's no way she could have gotten help in time. She's dead and gone, sir.'

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