Despite its detestable form, the creature had no problem carrying the conversation.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the steam filling the crater gave way to its stenchy breath. "I am Daralith, King of the Beach. Many souls wash upon my sands but none have yet fallen from the very heavens. Peculiar." The word trails off into the air and it leans back into its original squatted stance. "Fear me not, fallen. No harm will come from me. Nay. Beaconed as it did, a star fell from heaven and the imps of the sand will come to claim it."
Finally, Zephaniah found the strength to speak "Imps? To claim me?"
"Why yes, fallen." The creature scratches its rotund and giggling stomach. "They scrounge and scavenge, far too weak to survive within the walls. They starve or scour the sands in hopes of finding a wandering soul floating ashore. When they arrive, my trap is set and I will claim them instead. For I am much more powerful than hundreds of them."
"And that's why you are king?" He asks.
"Precisely," It responds. "And wiser. While they quarrel and contest over your miserable soul, I will enjoy a dinner and a show. And collect my fair wage of souls." It brandishes something behind its loin cloth. Zephaniah winces internally until he sees the demon reveal a bag that jingles with coins inside.
"I guess you're telling me this to feed your ego. Why can't I move?" Zephaniah had been using most of this time to urge any part of his form to move so much as an inch from where he laid. He pretty much could only move around in place.
"Most cannot move fast when first arriving. Your impairment appears to be a result of recovery, likely due to the fact you fell from the sky. Soul recovery takes time for mortals. I suspect you will be unable to move for several hours." The demon creature moved its hands to its front knees. It took a half-predatory, half-relaxed stance, watching Zephaniah intently as if the imps could take the bait at any moment.
"And those imps. They're coming here?" Zeph asked.
"Undoubtedly." It responded.
"And how many?" He asked again.
"A hundred, at least." It responded again.
"And you are going to kill them," Zeph said it more as a state of fact than a question.
"In totality," It hissed with an obvious air of pride that didn't suit his tone.
"You do this often?"
"A king walks his kingdom. I stroll the sands and prey upon the imps to claim their soul coins and their very being." It crossed its arms, leaning backward. "By your dramatic arrival, surely the whole beach saw you. Many will come and will indulge as a result. It will be a bountiful harvest for the king. I may even take a vacation for a while to truly relax for once."
"If there will be so many, why wouldn't they just attack you too?"
Daralith's face shifted a little into whatever passes for a smile on a creature like that. "They have tried before. It was a lesson they could not learn a second time. I am so powerful that I could slay many hundreds of these pitiful imps in a single strike. They would be foolish to try again, though they might try nevertheless. It matters not. For I am the King beyond the walls. Emperor of the Sand. Tyranny of the Wake. Sultan of the sh-" The creature's monologue suddenly stopped and a line of blackish-red fluid spurted as his body bisected from head to tattered crotch. The two parts began to peel and the limbs fell limp as Daralith collapsed into two parts like a curtain on stage.
Behind that curtain, stood a well-dressed man. He was tall, with long white hair and a devilishly handsome face. He grinned before he spoke.
"Did that guy already welcome you to hell?" He sauntered over with casual confidence. "Sorry if I didn't ask his name, but I don't tend to get along with low-lifes like him. Who the hell was that?"
Zeph was taken aback. He figured he shouldn't be surprised but in the few moments he had been in hell, he'd already seen so much. He'd seen astral phenomena that physicists could only imagine being up close to, a great beast that could clearly kill him and a dapper gentleman that subsequently sliced that creature in half. He wondered if hell was always this way.
"He said he was King of the Beach. Darrel or something."
"Daralith? That was Daralith? Hah. I thought he would be a little stronger. Prowling the Beach of the last millennium or so. Hmm." The man shrugged and Zephaniah got the impression this guy knew who his victim was before he asked. "Sooooo, anyway. You fell from heaven. I'm sure that was weird. Want to talk about it?"
"Why should I tell you? And better yet, why do you wanna know?" Zephaniah would cross his arms if he could right now.
"Well, first. Since the day I spawned, I haven't seen a single soul fall from heaven. It doesn't happen." The man walked down into the small crater and began to slowly circle Zephaniah, "In fact, there hasn't been a Fallen since the first Falling. They don't even call it 'The First Falling'. It's just 'The Falling.' So you're kind of unusual. I am sure there'll be others interested in why, but none enough to venture this far beyond the wall. As for why you should tell me," the man stopped in front of Zeph and smiled at him, "either you tell me, or I'll just kill you."
"Are you a demon?"
"Dumb question. Of course, I am." His smile grew.
"You won't kill me." Zephaniah managed to gloop backward slightly into a vaguely confident-looking blob. The demon looked a little surprised and more than a little curious.
"Oh, I wouldn't? And why is that?" The demon asked.
"You came all the way out here and killed a thousand-year-old demon just to ask me how I got here. You must really want to know or else I'd already be dead. Again. Wait, how does 'dead' work here?" Zeph's confident armor showed chinks.
The demon answered with a question. "What's your name, fallen?"
"Zephaniah."
"Ugh, too long. Too religious. Too everything." The demons made a face of general disgust. "Look, I'll make you a deal-"
"No deals." Zeph cut him off.
"My name is Niquitius." He smiled with a surprise warmth, like a fireplace safely in a hearth. "You can call me Nico."
"Okay, uh- Nico," Zephaniah said. "You can call me Zeph."
"Deal!" Nico shouted excitedly, snapping the fireplace shut. "See? That wasn't so bad, right?"
Zeph kicked himself. He could hardly believe that passed for a deal but he figured it counted as an agreement. Before he could finish another thought, Nico continued. "Now that we have broken the ice, I'll offer you another deal! Tell me how you ended up here and I'll help you solidify your soul so you can scooch right off of this beach."
He waved both hands as if to shoo away the Zeph onto his next adventure.
The soul blob piqued with poorly hidden excitement. "A-and what does that entail?"
Nico grinned in a way that seemed to fit right in in a place like hell. Gone was the warm fireplace and only brimstone remained. Still, it had an allure.
"Oh, Zeph. I forgot this is your first day. The economics here works on souls! Mortal souls are worth one soul coin each." He casually brandished a coin between two fingers. "However, they do not lose their essence in this form. Many can simply consume these like a demonic slot machine! A formless mess like you would tighten right up just from one soulcoin! Full disclosure, you mortals are not exactly designed for it so you won't be more than a slightly better slime."
Zeph mulled over the terms of the deal, weighing his options. "Two soul coins then."
"Two coins?! That's preposterous! I couldn't be convinced to part with two coins over simply knowing how you were cast from heaven." The demon crossed his arms and turned his head up and away from Zeph. He held this pose long enough for Zeph to get the sense it was just a coy play to goad him.
Zeph sighed before speaking again. "Well, what if I tell you how I died?"
It was strange to say aloud. He felt it somehow it made it all real for a second. Between having his arm ripped off, stabbed by his best friend's wife, ripped apart inside a giant monster and getting shit out of Heaven's ass, he never really had a moment to take in the fact that he died. He wondered if people usually get the chance to take that part in.
Really understand it.
Dead.
He didn't feel dead. It was as if dying didn't matter until just now as the words left his gelatinous core.
He was really dead. Just like everybody else here. But the 'how' was certainly worth another coin. "I could tell you how one of Hell's demons managed to kill me in a way that Heaven rejected me."
Gone was Nico's playful demeanor and his tone found purchase on something much more serious. "Deal." And flipped two coins directly at Zephaniah.
He could barely flinch before the coins plunged into his membrane and soaked into his cytoplasm. A bright light flared from the coins and Zephaniah felt the coldest warmth soak inside him. The sensation was like eating ice but all over his body. It was both angry and a little sad, but it was swelling with power.
Zeph reached out to touch the source of that feeling. It seemed so tangible. So there. They were people. Two tortured souls that seemed so furious were now sharing the same space as Zephaniah. They wept. They scream without a sound. And then they calmed. Zephaniah opened his eyes and he was staring face to face with Nico.
"Your turn, Zeph," Nico said.
Zephaniah heard it but this time he heard it in the way he was used to hearing things. He didn't realize it before but somehow, in his slime form, he was hearing things with his whole body. It was a muffled sound, like pressing your ear up to glass.
Now, he was hearing with just ears. There was a certain depth to sound that he simply didn't have as a slime. It was flat and uniform, if not efficient. With both ears fully materialized, he was woefully aware of the crater on the beach of Hell that surrounded him. And in that crater, a dashing looking demon stood uncomfortably close to him.
He could see that, with human eyes. He had human everything, it seemed and back to a height he was more familiar with. But Nico was not that only thing staring back at him.
The two were completely surrounded by hundreds of feral demonic beasts, waiting, clearly hesitant to get too close. Imps with sickened and malnourished bodies hissed at an imaginary perimeter slightly larger than the crater's edge. The throng crowded around that perimeter, covering the entirety of the beach. They only parted for Nico and Zeph's circle and another small break for the late King Daralith.
As Zeph locked gaze with one creature after another, he couldn't help but notice that they looked at him like a predator behind glass. It didn't take long for Zeph to conclude the only thing holding them back from swarming him and tearing him limb from damned-limb was Nico. And if Nico decided not to stick around after getting what he wanted, there would be no more reason to wait.
Nico was the glass holding them back.
Zeph eyes met again with the man at the center of the circle as Nico repeated his earlier statement. This time it was cold.
"Your turn."
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