That night, after they swore to end the chaos, Mundus and his allies tried to conspire. Sparda was summoned back to the old castle of Behemoth. Setting foot in that place after ten years surely has given him an ominous feeling. He would rather live in that succubus dungeon than return to his bastard father.
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He glazed his fingers over his silver-white hair, frowning against his ears as he looked around. Gripping against his weapon that was tightly leashed on his waist, with caution and silence as he stepped at that place. His footsteps twinkled, and the only sound after that was the burst of wind.
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A wind blew on him from in front. He could feel the essence of the demons and devils that lingers. And the smells that came after. He winced as he moved forward, keeping himself grounded.
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Then silently, his steps reached the double doors in front of him, made of distorted wood. Flaunting its coat, he silently enters the room with a nonchalant look. He opened it with his hands placed on the knob of the door, then he pushed it forward and stepped inside.
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As soon as he got inside. Words rang into his ears and piqued his interest. “For the rotten apple doesn't fall from its branch, a casket of roses that is never surreal,” the voice said, whispering or saying a poetic line he had never heard before. Sparda moved forward, dazing over the place until his eyes stopped at the demon leaning on the pillar next to the throne room.
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“Appeared like a star, hide like a battle cry, for such woven fate, the destined path is crossed, and for the deemed, only shall worthy can withstand.”
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Sparda gazes at him. He is a demon, yet wears a human form like Sparda and Alucard. In this form, he was but a man, wearing black leathered pants, a thin shredded shirt and a book placed in his hand.
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He took a few steps forward in a frown, watching that demon as he spoke. “Alas, we see the world in different shades–” the demon paused, feeling the presence lingering in the room. A flicker of smirk appeared on his face, and then he closed the book with one hand as he gazed at Sparda. “The son that had not been home for years,” the demon said mockingly.
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At that moment, Sparda only grinned at him but without any emotions, as he began to step forward, ignoring the demons' every existence. Passing him like a wind made the demon slightly annoyed. “Sparda,” he called and then threw the book on him, which made Sparda’s reflexes immediately catch it mid-air. “One day, your arrogance is bound to be tarnished.”
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“Shut up, Bolverk, you don’t know me,” said Sparda as his fingers touched the book, feeling it’s texture before he threw it back at him. “And you don’t know anything about me.”
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The demon, Belverk, was about to retort, but Sparda ignored him as he walked, distancing himself from the demon, which only made Belverk more frustrated.
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Sparda knew that demon and would rather keep a distance from him. Belverk is a warrior with deep-rooted issues. He was formerly an ally of Argosax, the demon king of the other side of the underworld, but had taken the side of Mundus during that long battle.
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He can’t be trusted, considering how many times Sparda witnessed his betrayal and his method of survivability. That demon is cunning, sly and a hustling misfit that his father, Behemoth, had been keeping as part of his warrior.
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To be exact, he is no better than a demon unmatched by this world. He probably thinks of his sides as being cool, capable, and overly confident. However, he also does enjoy using loose ends puppets or familiarity with battles. He's not someone who first tries to fight without actually risking the calculation of the battle.
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As for what he's doing here, and within a human form. It might be regardless of how demons are shaping and evolving, but also their capability to shift the form of a human. That had been a technique which caused the humans to be unaware of them when they were roaming around and killing them in darkness or within the public's eye.
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Sparda shook his attention out of Belverk and back to the hallways. A long after that, a door once again appeared before him. This one was bigger than the last door he had taken. Two sculpted swords were woven on it, structured with silver lines. He inhaled the smell that seemingly had become strong, and the scent of a bloodlust.
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He grumbled a little, running his hand through his hair as he breathed in and then silently he closed his eyes. Focusing himself, and for a few moments. The seeming atmosphere had begun dropping, a vague feeling evolved at the wind.
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The silent wave of the air was replaced by a tense, hot end glimpse of dropping gravity and for that a few moments replaced by an overwhelming presence.
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Sparda's body evolved in fire, the edge of his human form slowly wavers, the once skin turned rock, covering it like a glossy lair. Face to toe began to transform from a human, with flesh now, to a devil with form. His size has slowly increased, from an average man to a larger structure.
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Holding his sword, clutches behind him. Once he landed, he held his neck, breathing in the smoke of a fire from his lips. Then, with a gentle touch, he began to open the door. Keeping his eyes cautious about what may appear, for he cannot trust his father's gentle greeting.
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“Sparda.”
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He looked ahead at the throne room, his eyes darted gleaming in the dimly lit room. The only lights here are candles and fire from the side of the room. The stings of sexual desires lingered in the air, covering his nose with an unmistakable scent. He twitched and winced at it, as he looked ahead and gently took a step forward as he closed the door.
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“Father,” he silently whispered behind his wince. Wondering his eyes ahead with annoyance.
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There in front of him stood his father, the throne room, his sides were filled with succubus. The sight is unimaginable, like flaring and filled with either lust or uncontrolled pleasure. His father sat there as his harem surrounded him, flaunting their naked bodies, wrapping themselves around the devil.
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“After a long time, finally you came home, son,” the devil in front said. His voice was low but dangerously cunning, making Sparda couldn't help but wince at him calling Sparda his son.
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This devil is Mundus' unmatched aid, Behemoth. The orderly devil won battle after battle under Mundus' army. He is the former right hand of Mundus, trusted and capable, who flooded the demon world with barbaric battles and territorial disputes.
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Behemoth is the villain behind the human torture games. He enjoys the entertainment of human struggle and demon hunger. This devil is ruthless like his master, one who can't feel empathy with his keenness. A goddamn bastard that is hated by his son.
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“You asked my presence,” said Sparda, retorting his father's words. Then he clenched his fist. “It was by no means a volunteer decision.”
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The devil in front of Sparda sneered, and then it chuckled. Holding tightly that succubus beside him, gripping her breast with a force unforeseen. It seems Sparda's word had an effect, and at that moment, the succubus began to moan at the tightness of Behemoth's grip.
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“Oh, yes, that's right. I don't recall giving you a choice, didn't I?” He jokingly said to Sparda, while he also let go of the Succubus who hitchhiked and sniffed breathing heavily on Behemoth's lap.
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“Father, I am not here for idle chats,” said Sparda with a firm tone. Ignoring the fact that he witnesses a lustful succubus at the peak of her orgasm. He knew his father well enough that he was sexually addicted.
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Much more to any female demon or succubus be sees, but his addiction doesn't end only to demons… It was said he had taken a human hostage, a female human and sexually assaulted her till she lost her breath and died.
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Amongst his victims. His mom was one of them.
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Behemoth twitched at Sparda's cold remark, and then he pressed the succubus' waist, commanding her to step aside. The succubus didn't say anything as she flew off from Behemoth's lap. “You are as lenient as ever, my dear son,” the devil said.
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But Sparda coldly frowns at him as he spits a cold glare. “Spare me your humour. I am not your dear son.”
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The devil narrowed with a mocking smirk. “Good, you still hate me,” he said as he chuckled. “Do something for me, Sparda.”
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“And why would I?” Sparda asked, frowning as he took a step forward. His voice was stoic, sharing no room for emotions. “What is it for me?” He added with a sly smirk.
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Behemoth pressed the tips of his teeth with his tongue as he grinned. “Cheeky bastard,” he annoyingly said, keeping his eyes locked on Sparda. Then he stood, crossed his arms and purred. “Do me this favor, and I'll make sure to free Lefia.”
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At the mention of Lefia, his eyes darted sharply from cockiness to a sly grin. He gripped his fist tightly, trying his best not to show any slight reaction. Maintaining his glim with an eerie look.
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“Hahaha! Did you think that I don't know about that little shit you saved?” Behemoth said, laughing at how Sparda was trying to hide any reactions but failed to do so.
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It has amused him, his son, who always shows a stoic expression and that poker smug face he shows. Now replaced by an overwhelmingly eagerly sharp stare, his icy blue eyes sharpening at Behemoth's threat. Feeling that plum of huff from Sparda's lip. And it only serves to increase his mischievous grin.
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“Son, you'll have Lefia back for one damn favor. Do you understand me?” This time, his voice that has a tone of mocking was replaced by a very cold and demanding sneer. Then Behemoth leaned in closely, laying his elbow on his tights with a sharp gaze on him.
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Sparda spit a smirk as he looked down, clenching his fist till it marked white. “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath as he looked up. “What the hell do you want?” He coldly asked. His gaze was the look of both determination and frustration.
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