A century later, give or take a couple of decades

A tall lone figure wearing full battle regalia and seven horns jutting out from his head standing over a barren meadow. His crimson eyes were fixated on the spot near his feet. There was pulled-out grass scattered around deep tracks. A faint smell of copper tangling with burning flesh permeated the air, but no singed corpse accompanied the telltale signs.

“What the Hell is going on?” He muttered, dropping to a knee with one hand touching the soil. “Your Majesty Mother Earth, I, Belphegor, one of your unholy children who received your grace, kneel here to beseech you, My Queen. I humbly ask that you reveal the disturbance upon your sacred body.” His solemn words were followed by a gentle surge of power f...

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