A mass grave laid before the mighty Quincy, whom was now surrounded by fields upon fields of dead Hollows - some decayed slowly, eradicated by the cleansing power of the arrows to destroy a soul. In this case, several thousand souls had been wiped out, all by the hand of a single entity. Radsen had slain the entire horde. It had been a brutal slaughter, the massacre, and the rise of Quincy power in the human world. Evidently, they were no longer a trifling relic of the past, as their mightiest warrior stood here now poised to defend the entire city...
Or perhaps he still was just a dying remnant of the past.
It had merely been the first wave. Just as the other Hollows had died new ones were coming in rapidly to take their places. Granted, their numbers did not exceed even a fourth of their initial horde, but soon the Hollows were no longer alone in their fight. As they crawled across the city and poised themselves to attack the Quincy, a shuddering vibe of malevolence surged forth through the city. Near some taller buildings, not far off from Radsen himself, a massive hole opened slowly in the ground, gushing forth an unnatural black fog, which spewed across the city and choked the lungs of the humans unfortunate enough to inhale it, causing them to collapse to the concrete below as mere corpses.
The hole expanded showing nothing but the formless black walls of an Abyss, and the buildings beneath vanished into the black fog. They vanished from view and all they left to be remembered by was the sound of crunching stone and megalithic constructions being ripped apart, swallowed by this horrid otherworldly maw. The largest Demon Door ever seen in history had appeared. And from it, the grottles and minor demons rose first slowly, adjusting to the mortal realm. Then came the greater demons, until new demons came forth, black figures mocking the human form in their shape and twisted crystalline beasts. They numbered fewer than the Hollows, but the arrival of their kind meant a leader would not be far off. It was a wonder already that there had been no espada... but something greater had come instead, stepping out from where the shadows could conceal his entrance.
It wasn't certain how long it had been there, but a strange misty blackness rose from between a simple grocery store and a dry cleaners place. Night held the cloak of shadow over this place, which grew only stronger as a tremendous evil energy silenced the only light left here; the artificial light bulbs of the street posts, flickering unnaturally before falling to darkness. A tall, black-clad figure appeared from the misty mass of blackness, a rift in worlds; it was a Demon's Door, a smaller and stealthier version suited for those who wished to leave hell in quiet strides.
His broad shoulders were defined even in the tattered garment, which he threw aside with the swing of a long, powerful arm. The figure that was revealed actually showed to be a very handsome young man despite the wickedness he'd appeared to have silently spawned out of. He seemed like some great sculpture, his white skin dimly reflecting the slitted moon's light, the only light that remained to defy him... and even so, it seemed to diminish as it touched his gorgeous body, which was scarcely dressed in armor and a loincloth.
A sturdy metallic belt crossed his waist composed of many bullet-like cylinders forming armor, with two similar bands of chains and slender cylinders banded around his chest. They were stained red, with black trim and highlights, and golden chains connected them to one another. Two great shoulder plates sat atop his broad form, of different shapes. The one on his left jutted outward in spikes and was securely strapped to his arm as well as attached to the chain-cylinder armor wrapped around his chest, and seemed well suited for ramming into foes, as the protrusions were wickedly sharp and eerily malefic in some odd design. It extended roughly three feet off his shoulder. The other side was covered by a large, almost roman style plate of the same type and metal, except it rose to protect the neck and the head. A large red gem sat at it's center, glowing a faint red, whilst a cage-like organic mass of metal bars bent around to provide additional thickness on the lower guard rested beneath the shimmering gemstone. Both pieces of armor were the same bloody red color as the cylinders.
Black leather straps were all across his right arm, organized vertically near the joints, with the straps wrapping around the spaces in between the fingers and thumb of his brutal fist. The straps stopped beneath the shoulder, attached to the gemstone-set shoulder plate, which was also attached to the cylinders. Beneath that, Divus had an armored tasset belt beneath the cylinders around his waist. Near the crotch, it extended into a large skull shape carved into the belt, with wicked teeth and a third ruby eye. The eye sockets seemed sunken and dark, and from the mouth of the skull extended a fat, torn red cloth, long enough to reach Divus's ankles; it served to keep him decent.
The belt was attached to two separate pieces of metal that hung down the sides of Divus's powerful, exposed thighs in the vague shape of skeletal hands attacked to a larger, bent K shaped form, which curved around the back of his thigh and mid way across the hamstring. Above, it was connected by an eyeball-shaped joint metal ball and some chains beneath it. Evidently, the ball could rotate, and the metal fit Divus's legs perfectly. And beneath those, there was a pair of large, heavy boots. Spikes rose from the foot area all the way up to the mid calf around the edges, whilst a reptilian face sat at the base of each ankle with metallic red horns, and above where the spikes ended the armor boots jutted out in bladed forms along the sides and smooth bands up to the knee, from whence skull-shaped forms covered their caps and their curling horns swirled around Divus's joints to protect the entire knee on each leg. While outrageously decorative, the armor itself held no special powers; it was merely something he'd acquired in hell as a gift since becoming Dark Lord.
His crotch and upper legs and hips were also wrapped in black cloth bandages to prevent selective nudity in the event that the red cloth failed to conceal his testicles and shaft, and Divus reached down to withdraw a strange mask from the lower cylinder belt. It was shaped in a way eerily similar to a crocodile head but was made of solid gold. There were, however, vaguely humanoid shaping to the cheeks and forehead, and the terrifying thing was obviously made to fit a face. Slipping it onto his head, the mask made a sickening convulsion as it attached to Divus's face, somehow merging into the skin. Divus slipped a powerful black leather strap around the back of his head, connecting the mask to his face in the event it could fall just in case, although the way it had seemingly fused with his face averted that possibility; it seemed like a paranoid precaution, but his long, wild black hair covered it up anyway.
None of the armor, nor the mask, had any sort of special powers... Divus had simply liked it all, but the mask did have a purpose. Any demon exiting hell without a proper vessel required a mask lest they be dragged back. You never knew when you'd be snatched away - and even Divus, who'd evaded capture for countless years, had to beware of this danger. And so demons carried masks, and now, so did Divus. This was simply his mask; as long as it stuck to his face, which it did so vigilantly, he could not be sent back.
He rose a powerful hand, and his cloak flew into his left arm. opposite to the one bound in leather straps. This one had a fat golden gauntlet around the forearm, nearly four inches thick, a mass of intricately carved and root-shaped streams of yellow trim connected by masses of tiny chains meshed together beneath the gold fragments. Divus attached the cloak to a small mechanism on the inner side of the spiked shoulder plate, bunching it together and pressing it down underneath. When complete, it hung behind him in a black stream of fabric, torn and ripped. It was no longer a cloak but almost like a great malevolent flag draped over the back of Divus's mighty shoulder.
In an instant, swirling currents of black liquid surged around him, as he dug his hand into the side of a building and jumped off of it's surface, climbing atop a tall building no more than twenty feet away from Radsen himself. That cruel mask gazed at the Quincy with cold, calculating eyes, whilst fifty black swords emerged from the liquid, scattering and moving in a puzzle-like fashion behind the King of Hell. His voice was remarkably gorgeous, deep and smooth, as if to betray that ugly mask he wore. Divus's eyes were already shut and if one peered into the eye sockets they could easily see the shut lids. What was he doing, walking into a fight with his eyes closed? "Ah, so you're the one leading the front here, I presume?" Divus guessed in a tactful tone that did not fit his ferocious choice of battle armor, nor did it suit the malevolent blackness which he had spawned from. "My name is Cubix. I've been sent here because of you, you know...." He continued, crossing his arms and tapping at his elbow.
Then he scoffed, his wild black hair billowing behind him with the vengeful winds turning against Radsen as dark clouds soured the sky itself in anger, no doubt the direct reflection of the powerful demonic presence here. "To be honest, I don't care to be here, so I'll cut a deal with you. You just get on your knees there, crawl around a bit, maybe kiss my boots or something, and I'll let you go." He said. The park was not far off; in the gaze of his psychic eye, he could see the calm trees, swaying in the rough winds as leafs were torn from their branches furiously. Despite insulting, the Devil's words had been calm and amicable, with a beautiful deeply voice that both pleased and frightened those who heard it. His eyes opened, revealing the golden stare that might suit a lion better than a man, giving off a unnerving glint of reflected light. Everything changed in his presence. No matter how meekly he presented himself, it was obviously a lie, and the truth was felt in the heart. It was an immediate sense of terror, yet diluted by an overwhelming charisma. Even with that mask, the grotesque armor, and those evil swords - something was just heroic about him, almost in the likeness of Lucifer himself. But as great as it was, no less was the Dark that equaled it, and the breath of fate could barely be felt as it sentenced the life of the Quincy to an end.
Fate favored Divus.
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