1. The Devil's Pact, Hell Chronicles Chapter 5: The City of Brass


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    Break every bone in his body.” Milly had a vicious smile. “Gladly, God-King.” She rose from her silk pillows, a lead pipe appearing in her hand. “Mercy, God-King,” blubbered the man. “I am your most devoted servant. Please.” His eyes looked up at me. “Intercede for me, Divine God-Queen.” “Milly,” I purred. “Cut his tongue out as well. He has no more need of it.” Brandon laughed as we strolled through the ovens. The man howled behind us as Milly's lead pipe landed with meaty thunks. The man's screams were sweet in my ears. Around us, our soldiers formed up and our concubines trailed behind, draped half-naked in silks. “I think I know who this man is,” I whispered as we walked. Through the chains, I could dimly feel our servants about us. It was faint, but I could recognizing the ones in pain. The ones being butchered ahead. “Who is he?” Brandon asked. “The Samurai,” I smiled. “I once thought I would contend with him for Japan. He is a noble man. A follower of Bushido. A true samurai.” Brandon gave me a blank look. “The word samurai comes from saburau. To serve.” I smiled. “Samurai's serve someone more powerful. This one thought to restore the Emperor and rule as his Shogun. If you can prove yourself stronger, you may win his loyalty. He would make a powerful servant. Our Shogun, leading our armies.” Brandon smiled. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ God-King – The Abyss The Samurai was dressed in fearsome, crimson armor, his sword flashing as he hacked down another one of my ...
    servants. I strode forward, gathering all the power I had amassed. I hoped this worked. Emi was certain it would. She stayed back, watching, her eyes smoldering. “Samurai!” I roared, using my power to make my voice boom. “Kneel and bow before your God-King.” The Samurai turned and charged, his armor clinking. From the alcove, I noticed three beauties dressed in transparent kimonos, watching with calm passion. Their faces were painted white like geisha. My cock stirred. They were worthy of my harem. The Samurai swung his blade. I pushed out my power, stopping the sword before it reached my flesh. Hell was malleable, and who had the most power had the advantage. I had hundreds of souls serving me. This man had three. His eyes widened through slits in his demonic mask. “How?” the Samurai demanded, struggling to move his blade as it was frozen an inch before my face. The three geisha's faces grew disturbed. For a moment, chains flashed between them and the Samurai, black as midnight. They were different than the chains that I had bound my servants with. These were far stronger, made of adamant compared to the brittle iron I chained my followers. The Samurai bound the three with the Zimmah ritual. Their bond was impossible to break. I could never own those women's souls. What a pity. The Samurai strained to pull his blade back. Then he let go of his blade and his armored fist lashed out at my face. I blinked in surprise, barely stopping his punch before he connected with my face. With a ...
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