The Demon Lord Is An Angel

Chapter 517: Caelum Vult

Jeviel smiled to himself as he waited in a descending elevator.

Even though the message was cut off early, he felt more than enough had been said to accomplish his goals.

It had been a long twenty years to get to this point, harnessing the crisis of faith bubbling throughout the city, growing not one but dozens of cults centered around leaders who were faithful to him and his view of the world. His path had been a quiet one, yet bloody all the same, and he’d sacrificed much to get to this point.

When his own guards rebelled against the city, he’d quietly exposed their plans for a coup, before spending much of the first decade beneath the Veil feigning contrition and bowing to the mere scion he’d once commanded. But he’d been patient, and through it all, he slowly gathered those with ambition, the lesser races who dared to think they could rise.

And with this new world that coddled them with guarantees of food and homes, he found he barely had to exert himself to pit them against each other. Norneau was, after all, the "City of Magic," but what that meant was that magic replaced people. Magic meant there were too many people and not enough jobs. A million people living in a city with no one to turn against but themselves...

Oh, he’d quietly arranged the murders of a few unfortunate Outsiders. And while the Knights scrambled constantly to figure out who to protect against whom, it was he who stepped into the emotional spaces of the lost, the weary, and the listless to give them what mere freedom couldn’t: Purpose.

His purpose.

One key to that purpose waited for him as the doors opened and he stepped into a long hallway. The angel they called "Giver."

Jeviel had long forgotten his real name. That had died the moment he came to Jeviel’s door, acting on a long-ago conversation they’d shared at a party Jeviel barely remembered having attended.

"Giver," Jeviel greeted. "How’s the new flock?"

"Nine proved compatible enough to dig. The rest are... compliant enough. Ready to be positioned. And of course, I saved one for you. A, ah, special believer. One that may surprise you."

"Any failures?" Jeviel licked his lips. It had been too long since he’d had a chance to carve faith into the flesh of a willing supplicant... To collect a token for the grace he bestowed.

"One. But it has already been disposed of," Giver replied. "Some aren’t meant for the gift of godflesh... But it is all as Heaven wills..."

The hallway ended and Giver opened the door for them. Below, a large circular area led off formed the hub of an eight-legged spoke. From the landing above, the two angels were able to look down on a gathering comprised of the man-kin races. Elves, orcs, dwarves, and half angels. Even a pair of giants. Yet, nowhere in sight was a human, the rarest of races.

All but one wore their godflesh openly, white and gold exposed to the air as it could not be in the city above.

He knew in an instant which one of the new souls was his "present."

The only demonkin in the room.

Jeviel took his time as he walked down a circular stairwell. He’d never thought a half-demon would come this side... this was a moment to savor. To ponder the marks of impurity all over the young man’s body. His tail. The hand-length horns that arced from his forehead. The goat-like eyes stared out at him. Revered him, as the true intercessionary of the divine...

How he hated those eyes...

One of the herdsmen waited for Jeviel at the bottom of the stairwell. "Archangel," the half-elf greeted. Jeviel had kept his smile up the entire trip down.

"Which sect is he with?" Jeviel asked in a low voice.

"Young Dromi is from the Will of Mana, Your Grace. And an accepted student at the Academy."

That was all Jeviel needed to hear. Not the youth’s name, Jeviel didn’t care about that. "Fetch me a pair of eyes," Jeviel said to Giver, low enough so only the three of them heard.

Giver smiled and turned, taking the hallway that led to his personal quarters.

The demonkin youth looked jittery, for all he held hope on his face as Jeviel approached. "Welcome, son, to our little temple." The archangel put a hand on Dromi’s shoulder, turning him towards the hallway opposite the entry, where Jeviel kept an office. "You’ve had quite a journey, haven’t you?"

The rest of the flock gathered around, smiling and clapping softly for the demonkin, and Jeviel tried not to react as the boy perked up all the way down to his tail, before stammering out a reply Jeviel only half-listened to. "Mhm. And your family?" Jeviel injected as soon as the boy paused.

"My father died when I was young, in one of the riots... But my mother died last month. She left me enough to tithe, and after I talked with Priest Valiern, he said I’d proved worthy enough to enter the Third Circle and learn the truth..."

Jeviel chuckled, projecting good humor that wasn’t there. Those who worshipped the Will of Mana certainly understood the forces at play, being one of the more successful cults. The tithings were where his genius came into play. Faith was easy to build but hard to measure, and so when the first "natural" cults came to be in Norneau, he’d suggested quietly to the leaders that the faithful prove their dedication through tithing. After all, how better to gauge the weight of one’s piety than to mark it by the wealth one earned?

All the largest cults became those with the largest coffers. And who better to direct those coffers towards a mutually beneficial environment than an experienced leader like himself? And when Lumin was finally gotten rid of, his re-emergence into the public eye became all but assured.

Even with the city’s relatively recent conversion from proper metals to crysta, Jeviel knew that if he accumulated enough wealth, he could position himself however he wanted. And with how much the faithful gave and gave, he’d been able to win over the merchants and develop a workforce that could begin the next step of his plan...

"Come inside," Jeviel said, opening the double doors with a wave of his hand and the smallest flex of his mana. He led Dromi to the window, to a chair designed for the youth to recline in, before closing the door the same way. "Sit," he said. "You know me, yes?"

As he sat, the demonkin sputtered, "I-I know you’re the Minister of Religion... that you said now is the time for the faithful to search for a way forward..." He gulped. "A-and you’re an angel..."

Jeviel might not have had his wings out, but it pleased him to hear the note of trepidation in the youth’s voice. "Look outside," he said. "Tell me what you see."

The youth turned his head. Outside the office, the only sources of light came from the rocky strata above and in sconces set by geomancers. On the outer ridges of a massive circle, workers with godflesh worked throughout their bodies toiled to take the stones that geomancers left behind, bearing their loads out of the bowl-shaped cavern. Down there, the full heat of the stone above could almost boil water, but up here, Jeviel could watch them sweat in comfort.

But like almost everyone, the youth spotted the hole first.

"I see a hole... with something moving inside it."

Jeviel corrected him. "What you see is a testament to fools. The Veil traps us, as above, so too below. And yet foolish adventurers dug deep. They used all their might and all their mana, but did they find escape? No." He sent a gentle course of his own mana into the chair, causing the magical bindings built into it to strap the youth down. "Neither magic nor gods let them through, because they were unworthy."

"What is th-" the lad’s question cut off as his jaw was forcibly snapped shut.

"Shh, shh-shh..." Jeviel cooed, placing a hand between the demonkin’s horns. A touch on the head... such a simple, calming gesture. "I need to know if you’re worthy, child. You have given wealth, but would you give of you body, your soul to know true power and the freedom that comes with it? Your heritage has contaminated you... so more than others, I need to know your faith." I’ll keep a horn... Jeviel thought as he caressed one of the demonkin’s horns with his thumb, before using magic to pull the small knife from the bookcase behind the chair into his hand. He kept the knife out of view as he gazed into the panic in the eyes of this most unclean follower. "Take a breath. I permit you to speak," he let the boy’s mouth free.

"I gave everything... I’ll give everything!" The boy’s voice cracked. "I just... don’t want to be alone..."

With a smiled, Jeviel went to his desk and drew forth the instruments of faith. As always, they were kept sharp even without his needing to ask. In a small phial, shards of golden crystal lay in a stoppered phial.

Carefully, he tilted out a single stone, holding it between two fingers as he approached the demonkin. He pressed the shard against the boy’s skin, just beneath the sternum.

"Worry not child..." he spoke as blood began to well beneath his fingers. "After tonight, you will never be alone again."