A Beast Escapes

"How many has it killed?" the chain devil managed between gasps. Each breath was ragged after miles of fleeing in an attempt to regroup, the monster in pursuit and showing no signs of tiring. Fueled by its rage, armed with a weapon of hate, and driven by the singular purpose of annihilation. It was close. It could smell their fear.
 
"I didn't see!" his captain answered, the barbed devil keeping step with him.
 
"Five corporals at least!" another devil shouted.
 
"It ripped Syxtus in half!"
 
"Their very souls are gone! Gone! What is this monster?"
 
Bazixeles motioned them closer, barking orders and forcing them to heel as they formed ranks. There were no answers to their cries for help. Not immediately, anyway. They were ordered by the Amnizu to fall back, regroup at the forward stronghold along the Styx where the beast was reportedly heading. Apparently, assistance awaited them there. A pit fiend had been dispatched. Surely one of Hell's most terrible soldiers would be enough to quell this renegade being. With his troops formed, they made their way further along the banks of the Styx, vigilant for the threat.
 
Not much further ahead, a distinctive crackling echoed across the deceptively calm waters beside them. Flames each carried their own call, every flickers' tongue known to the beasts born and honed by fire, and none was more distinct than those controlled by the most powerful of devils. Bazixeles motioned his remaining troops forward, bidding them kneel when the pit fiend rounded the approaching bend. He did the same upon approaching his superior, the identity of the general already known to him.
 
"General Abraxis," he managed between breathes. "The beast isn't far behind. It has already-"
 
The pit fiend towered over the chain devil, his glowing, crimson glare driving the subordinate even lower as he snorted in disgust. He shrugged his powerful shoulders, adjusting the ornate breastplate with the gold and black motif of Nessus. Then, he simply passed the troop of devils by.
 
"You will remain to gather the pieces," the hulking devil instructed. "See to it that every scrap is gathered and returned to Nessus. Our Grand Duke has plans for this one."
 
Bazixeles bowed, rising and shuffling past the general as he formed his remaining troops. "It will be done, general. What is this beast? It's no demon or monster from another plane, and it stinks of Heaven even if it looks like one of us."
 
The pit fiend spun, fist lashing out with a ferocious backhand that sent Bazixeles soaring. The chain devil careened into his fellows, bowling over the rest of the troop, their combined mass still unable to stop the force of his launch. All cowered below the general as he slung the cruel and impossibly large club from his back, its many barbs sinking deep into the sands of the ground as he pulled it slowly forward toward the lesser devils.
 
His grip tightened as he rolled the weapon in front of him, stopping just short of the dazed chain devil. "This beast is what happens when a devil forgets their place. Now...watch what we do with traitors and usurpers."
 
The lesser devils collected themselves, more than happy to obey the towering fiend's instructions and let him sort out the mess. None of them were eager to tangle with the monster that had been unleashed, but there was a mutual curiosity that started to permeate the atmosphere about them, drawing their focus despite the danger if they lingered.
 
Was this beast truly stronger than a general of Hell?
 
The wait was short. Abraxis kept his club close at his side, his grip tightening when a shroud of black mist, small at first, then broader and bearing the resemblance of skeletal wings started to advance toward them. From the veil of smoke, a set of eyes shone with a disturbing, simple whiteness, as if to contradict the terrible being possessive of such a visage. A false sense of purpose, luring to their doom any who dared suspect mercy. And the blade in its hand pulsed and hummed with a deep, harrowing hunger, ever-eager to feast on a soul. Any soul. Especially theirs when wielded by the vessel of rage and hate.
 
Abraxis snorted, hefted his weapon, and with one great heave of his wings, closed the distance to the monster with a ferocious charge. A thunderous crack rippled the surface of the Styx from the force of their impact, and the devastating collision was made all the more terrifying by the frightful reality that two titanic forces had now met, and the lesser devils looked on in horror as they saw their general hurled aside like chaff. Abraxis tumbled through the sand, blood pouring from the gash in his shoulder, a line staining the ground where he passed. Bazixeles stood at the front of his troop, holding them in place as he pondered which duke of Hell to appeal to that they might be saved. The monster turned its terrible gaze to them, but unable to resist the allure of fresh blood, unleashed itself upon the wounded pit fiend now trying to claw its way back to its feet. Spectral wings and that terrible blade ripped into Abraxis in a savage display of power as blood went flying, one of the general's arms simply ripped from its socket. He tried to counter, his remaining limb managing an attack that forced his assailant back, but only for a moment. In that brief span, the monster had already closed the distance. The blade slammed home through Abraxis' chest. A red glow pulsed brighter, synchronized with the monster's heartbeat. Abraxis stared in disbelief, just before his body withered and turned white as the very essence of his being, the currency upon which Hell itself was powered, was drained and obliterated by the cursed blade all beings would come to fear. What little was left of him dissolved to dust, and Abraxis was no more.
 
Bazixeles held his ground, but also held his troops in position behind him, ready to attack first and give them time to flee should the beast come for them next. As the misted silhouette turned to him, his fears coming to fruition as he stood ready to face oblivion, he remained defiant, even casting his chains out before him and ready to fight till the bitter end. To his surprise, the smoke surrounding the beast parted, revealing the striking being for what it truly was. Bazixeles had seen angels before. Even a corrupted one. But whatever this creature was, neither Heaven nor Hell was its realm any longer. It was made for something else entirely. As it stalked toward him, the chain devil began to realize he'd soon know the terrible purpose.
 
"When it attacks me, flee to the stronghold and inform our generals what you've seen," the devil ordered his troops. "I'll slow it down."
 
The devils behind Bazixeles stared for moment, each of them fully aware that their lieutenant was offering to sacrifice his very soul that they might escape. The beast stalked closer, but none of them shrunk back. The chain devil turned to them, ordering them to fall back. The beast took another step closer, and still they held. Before Bazixeles could bark the order for them to withdraw and throw himself into a suicidal attack, the corrupted being before them stopped, its eyes narrowing and head lowering.
 
"Leave," it told them.
 
Bazixeles and his fellows flinched, the creature addressing them the last thing they expected.
 
"Leave..." it snarled once more. "I won't be able to stop...stop myself...not again..." It steadied itself. "Leave..."
 
Bazixeles didn't hesitate this time. He motioned for his troops to fall back, and all of them were happy to obey. Yet despite the danger and those under his command in full retreat, Bazixeles lingered, regarding the twisted being that was so horridly savage a moment ago, but then was able to offer mercy the next, however forced. It displayed order and discipline.
 
Law.
 
"Why?" the chain devil dared to pose.
 
It held his stare, the two beings sharing an unspoken respect. "Because...I can still honor...valor."
 
The chain devil inhaled sharply, but lingered no longer. One last look at the creature, then he was off. He and his troops ran as fast as their legs could carry them, reporting to the stronghold to find an emissary from Nessus waiting for them. When they delivered their report, they were shocked to receive orders to stand down and return to their posts. The beast had been dealt with, or so they were told to believe and relay to any devil that asked. As far as they were concerned, the incident had been contained. But Bazixeles knew the truth, even if he would never be allowed to say it.
 
Something had escaped Hell this day. Something that was never intended to leave the realm. For years, he would contemplate the significance of the event, wondering if he would ever see the consequences of that fateful confrontation.