The flames of hell itself flickered wildly. One small burst of fire chased the next, erupting from fissures in the boiling hot stone floor, which was criss-crossed by a thin river of magma. Dark demonic growls sounded through the rocky tunnels, whose ceilings and floors were peppered with sharp stone spikes, and screams of tortured souls told of terrible pain.


    However, this did not affect Percival’s concentration for a second, even though he was standing in the middle of this unholy place, rummaging through a book bound in human skin that he had taken from Patriarch Stein’s considerable library.


    Meanwhile, something lurked nearby, peering out of the blackness of a tunnel at the mage. It had an absurdly large mouth, full of long, numerous teeth, and extended a sizable pair of hands out of the tunnel, playfully reaching for the student from a distance. "Your time is running out," a vile voice threatened. "And then you will pay for everything, RAWR!" Suddenly, a creature with leathery skin and wings leapt up from the tunnel and opened its mouth, which was wide enough to swallow an entire head.


    Unimpressed, no rather annoyed, Percival slammed the book shut as the drooling mouth stopped inches above his head. "You’re not even making the slightest effort," he said and after a swipe into the air, the creature was thrown back by an invisible force. "Enough of this sad spectacle."


    At the mage’s word, the gruesome backdrop of hell, an illusion, disintegrated and the tall demon stood in one of the retro-inspired laboratories of Patriarch Stein’s estate. "You know how to end this," said Hughyx’Zalzasso. He had half a dozen tiny eyes where a mouth usually was, and next to each eye, a jagged, twisted horn protruded in front of his head.


    "I’m telling you, you’re not even making the slightest effort anymore, Zal," Percival repeated teasingly. He was the master of this higher demon and had no intention of fulfilling his wish. "And do you expect me to release you from our pact? Is that depression or laziness? Has a human broken your fighting spirit?"


    "At least your arrogance is still a delicacy," Zal said, his lips curling as if they were a wave, accompanied by a drooling tone and a subliminal threat. "Just never forget: hell always wins, and one way or another, I will eventually teach you endless torment for your audacity."


    "Only death always wins. The rest is just a matter of details and I, for one, will decide those for myself, but keep hoping. As long as it keeps you busy and spares me this theatre, please."


    Although Zal was bound to the mage and subordinate to him, he seemed anything but broken and laughed insidiously. "Don’t mistake me for your faithful mutt," the demon said, and as if on cue, Brutus stalked around him in a ready-to-attack stance. "Although, more of a tool than loyal. Created to serve. That’s not real loyalty."


    "How old are you now?"


    "Old enough to have forgotten."


    "And yet you insult a man’s dog?" asked Percival in a huff, whistling at Brutus to pet him like a normal animal. It was true that the hellhound had been created by the mage and was therefore not even a lesser demon, but a so-called Myrmidon, a hell creature without thoughts of its own and absolutely obedient and bound to its creator. "Bad mistake."


    "We’ll see," Zal growled one last time, causing his lips to curl outwards and his head to look like a harlequin mask before he was swallowed by a flame and disappeared.


    Because of his pact with Percival, the demon could not harm him and had to obey him at his word. This had enabled Percival to bind Zal not to take any indirect measures against him, in his own words: "You must never harm me or take measures that could harm me or my allies in any way. However, Percival had only added the ally thing after the demon had set a mortal predator on one of his fellow students to trap him.


    "Hell has its pros and cons," a voice murmured in fascination. "And the way you deal with it, as if it were just another day."


    "Isn’t it?" Percival replied complacently, looking towards the door of the lab. "Hell may be full of cheats, but I think it’s an honest place, just like Earth, and you can have a good time there, but you can also have a bad one."


    It was not without reason that the mage’s mood changed from annoyed to delighted, as Tiara leaned between the door and the hinge. "You know what a woman likes to hear," she grinned meaningfully. Even compared to vampires and their usually flawless beauty, she was a forbiddingly tantalising, captivating sight. Everything about her fit, in fullness and shape, and her choice of revealing, violet-coloured clothing was like the fine cut of a rare diamond. Tiara showed skin, but it was more of a tantalisation and a promise of more, although at least her flat, uncovered stomach was visible. The rest of the fabric was a play of laces, skin slits and hardened collars and sleeves, with half a skirt as a cape around her hips. "But I guess after Zal you’d prefer any kind of conversation?"


    "You were spiking."


    "Guilty. I couldn’t resist," Tiara played caught, not holding back on the flirting for a second. "I should make it up to you, I think."


    "Oh I know how much you’d like to," Percival smirked, but even though he was outwardly friendly and no less in the mood, he knew better than to be flippant. "But I hope you came here in the first place for my other request?"


    "Straight to business," Tiara sighed and strolled through the lab, where she let her fingers roam carefree over vials and equipment. "Now I’m a little miffed."


    "Sorry, my eagerness often gets the better of me."


    "Of course," Tiara furtively lifted a corner of her mouth and giggled. "Who else would make a pact with a demon of arrogance?"


    "Someone who can," Percival said with conviction, realising the irony of his words. At least at that moment.


    Demons, whether lower or higher, embodied one of the seven deadly sins in their entirety and in Zal’s case it was the so-called Superbia: pride, vanity, arrogance, haughtiness - all of which applied to someone who saw or gave themselves as the best in some way.


    "I mean, I outwitted him," Percival added without conceit. That was the truth. "If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here now."


    "Outwitted indeed, for the moment," Tiara emphasised, leaning forward with interest to rest her elbows on the table and her face on her hands. "And so many in hell would love to know how you did it."


    "I’ll bet my essence on it," Percival laughed, controlling his urges. Oh yes, he could feel Tiara working her charm, but he was prepared for it. ".It must be very humiliating for a demon to be kept on a leash like a dog. Of course other demons want to have fun with it."


    "That and they don’t want to suffer the same fate," Tiara smiled treacherously, for what was said most definitely concerned her as well. She wanted to know what deal the mage had made with Zal.


    "Believe me, it’s far less exciting and complex than you and your kind probably realise," Percival replied. He had been dealing with hell for years, even before he had made a pact with Zal, and the most important rule of hell was to choose your words and actions with the utmost care. Percival also smirked inwardly. And never intend to honour your pact. "I could bet that some people’s fingers itch, though. A human who tricks a demon must be a great temptation for other demons to have him for themselves."


    "It does give you an attraction, but I can only speak for myself. No sensible demon lets you look at their cards."


    "And yet you’re showing me your cards."


    "Well, what’s true is true," Tiara now lolled her back over the table and looked at the man upside down. Her wicked movements didn’t seem forced or intrusive for a moment, but were like flowing water. "It has an appeal, but that doesn’t mean I want to try and get someone like that, does it?"


    "You’d have to break your current pact," Percival stated, his eyes following the woman’s every lascivious movement.


    Tiara was a succubus, also known as a succubi, and a lesser demoness of Luxuria: lust, desires, fornication and whatever else could be categorised as desire. Her whole behaviour and everything about her would lead a normal human to use the word slut, but that was the normality of a succubus. "Mhhh, cancelling my pact? I don’t know. It gives me so many benefits for so little work."


    "Then that’s settled," Percival pulled in his lower lip briefly. He sensed the woman’s charm, a seductive spell, and he was able to shield himself against it thanks to his magical talent. Biologically speaking, however, a succubus also possessed a natural, attractive pheromone, which she used unconsciously and which was odourless, but Percival knew that it was in the air "So let’s get to my request."


    "Well well well," Tiara sighed playfully and had the decency to straighten up from her supine position and stand up. She then became a little more serious. "What you asked about, I’ve probably tracked one down."


    Percival listened attentively, but with a moderate tone of voice. "I didn’t really expect that so soon. Are you sure?"


    "Well, I said probably. I’m not quite sure yet."


    "If the case is true, do you still think it will be difficult to get the manifest?"


    "My view hasn’t changed since our first meeting," Tiara stated clearly, stepping smoothly but at a distance around the mage. "A manifest of hell is an expression of power and there aren’t many copies, not even a hundred, so they say. I’m still thinking, if I really get my hands on it - why would I give it away?"


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    Percival wanted a Manifesto of Hell at all costs, even though he continued to act in control. "We weren’t talking about giving it away. Tell me your price and I’ll see what I can do."


    Tiara was aware of the value, which was actually worth nothing. "My mistake, wrongly put: why should I trade it? To be honest, I don’t see anything of even approximate value in you. All the rules and ancient rituals of hell, who can claim to own this script written in the devil’s blood?"


    Perhaps Percival should have paid a little more attention to the succubus′ advances beforehand. After all, she was a more than pretty sight and Percival loved women very much. Stop!, he thought, unsure whether this wasn’t all part of a tactic to manipulate the mage. "I see you’re much smarter than Zal," he smirked slyly. "Because it’s true, if you believe the legends. A Manifester of Hell is worth nothing. At most the throne of hell itself, I think."


    "Oho, perhaps my favourite mage," Tiara listened, but it became clear that she didn’t mean what she said. "Are you trying to help me become the Queen of Hell? If Lucifer knew that..."


    "At least I know that the manifesto has an affordable price after all," Percival laughed, but actually for a different reason. He knew Tiara’s weak point in this deal. "However, I also know that the manifesto is worthless to you."


    Tiara’s expression suddenly turned decidedly angry. "Why should it be?"


    "Your power and your mind," Percival elaborated as a keen student of demonology and hell and was not squeamish in his directness. "Having the manifest is one thing. The power to use it or the talent to read it at all ... you have neither."


    "Even if I don′t have!" the succubus snapped. "It’s still a valuable trading object!"


    "Which you yourself say is basically worth nothing," Percival pinned the conversation with a knockout blow. "So you’d have to settle for far less, but you’d more likely become a target for any demon even remotely stronger and you’d get nothing. So your life in hell would truly be hell."


    The lascivious aura and previous calm of the succubus disappeared for a moment and parts of her demonic body, including her wildly swinging tail, blinked fleetingly, like a disturbing transmission in her mirage. "You!" snarled Tiara, more animal than human, and she strode sternly towards the mage. As she did so, she regained her human form and pushed herself slightly offensively against the man, who was a good two heads taller. "Oh, you really are one to me! ... Now I want to know all the more how you fooled Zal." There it was again, the succubus′ grin and her natural playfulness as she gently slid her fingers over the mage’s cheek. "But that I’ve just lost ... don’t tell anyone. It would make me very sad and then I wouldn’t even give you the manifesto for the throne of hell."


    Satisfied and feeling victorious, Percival grabbed the woman by the tight bum. "You want me to keep quiet? For nothing?" he grinned narrowly. "Everything has a price in hell."


    "Well, luckily we’re not in hell right now," Tiara smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "But I’ll think of something to show my gratitude."


    Percival looked intently into the succubus′ eyes, which were now the same colour as her violet-coloured clothes. "Is this still business or pleasure then?"


    "You’ll have to find out," Tiara whispered piquantly, pulling herself up against him to press her lips to the man’s.


    "I beg your pardon," a voice said, but the tone was not forgiving, it was monotone. "But I would like to have a word with our guest."


    This interruption could not have been more unfavourable and caused Percival to exhale in frustration. When he saw who had entered the laboratory, however, he tried to restrain himself. "Patriarch Stein!" he greeted, gently pushing Tiara aside to indicate a slight bow. "Forgive me, I hadn’t noticed you."


    "Well, I did just come in," mentioned Oskar, who wasn’t wearing a cloak today and he cast a clear glance at the succubus. "But I wanted to intervene before it turned into hours, because we have something important to discuss - leave us, demon."


    Humbly, Tiara made a bowing curtsey. "As you wish, Patriarch," murmured the succubus, her voice still tinged with excitement. Before leaving, however, she took the opportunity to whisper something in Percival’s ear. "I will haunt you tonight. So don’t you dare lock your door."


    Oskar’s sensitive ears had certainly heard this, but he didn’t react and waited until the demoness had left. "It’s not my business, but I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into."


    "Nothing I can’t handle," Percival dismissed the matter. "I know that I’m just a buffet for Tiara, the next essence."


    "Oh, I can put your mind at rest. I don’t know the details of my child Robert’s pact, but I have given him strict instructions for the succubus that she isnt allowed to kill in any way."


    "I guess she just wants my mana then," Percival laughed cheerfully, thinking of the parallel between succubi and vampires. Both creatures needed the mana that was part of the blood of many beings and could only be produced by exposure to the sun. The only difference was, succubus got it through sex and vampires through biting, Percival allowing himself a dirty hint. "I can give her a lot of that, and often." He quickly realised, however, that this fell on deaf ears with the patriarch. "That was probably of less interest, sorry"


    "You’re young and full of energy," Oskar understood, but he also choked off the topic. "But let’s talk about my request anyway."


    "Of course. Is it about the training of your clan members?"


    "No, I’m satisfied with that so far," Oskar replied and walked leisurely through the laboratory to inspect the equipment. "You’ve already done an excellent job in just a few days, and I can see you’re making the best use of my house for your own studies."


    "Well, who could resist?" asked Percival. He was truly impressed by what the patriarch possessed. "Master Allister also has a considerable collection of writings and artefacts, some of which he certainly keeps secret, but it’s hard to compare with you. Your collection is the work of centuries and I would certainly need at least a few decades to work my way through everything properly."


    "Was there anything that particularly caught your eye?"


    "Quite a few things," Percival paused and thought of one of the objects he had seen in one of the display cases in the large library. Curious and incredulous, he had to ask about it. "In the library ... the sword ... is it really the sword of Damocles?"


    Oskar recited the sword’s inscription. "And one day I will fall, beyond status and justice. Let my judgement be final and let them curse me, but I will give nothing in return. Now take your seat, oh great king."


    That was answer enough for Percival. "Wow," he looked dumbfounded, in the truest sense of the word, because this was truly a relic that was surrounded by many myths. "How long have you, I mean where from, um, that must be hard ... okay, okay, to begin with. You don’t get to see something like this every day."


    "Yes, the historical value alone is unmistakable," Oskar agreed and he seemed to have a particular interest in this artefact. "And that I know it’s not in the wrong hands. So many legends and tales that are perhaps better left as they are, because one way or another, it will fall at some point."


    "Well then, I hope I’m not sitting on the throne when the horsehair breaks," Percival joked darkly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "But I think we’re a little off topic. How can I be of service to you, patriarch?"


    "Oh, the subject could hardly have come up better," Oskars grinned pithily and his marble face took on stronger features. "In fact, I wanted to talk to you about another artefact, if you can call it that. It’s actually just a fragment of it, a relic."


    Just a fragment? Percival only became more curious as to what could be of such value to the patriarch. "A fragment? Of what?"


    "A holy splinter, from the cross of Jesus of Nazareth," Oskar revealed with significance and concern. "Another thing that mustn’t fall into the wrong hands. Especially not now."


    "There’s a holy shard in Great Kingston?" asked Percival. Apart from a recent exhibition in the town, where papal relics of Innocent III were on display, he wasn’t aware of any other artefacts or the like. Of course, he didn’t include hidden treasures like the Sword of Damocles. "Where?"


    "Not here yet," Oskar explained, reaching into the pocket of his balloon trousers. From inside, he pulled out a Black Pitch, with a website already open, and handed the device to the mage. "A week ago, there was an auction in New York City. Richard Pink bought the shard for 1.9 billion dollars and in two days the shard will be brought to Great Kingston."


    "Richard Pink, eh?" Percival puffed disdainfully and skimmed the article. He saw a typical tabloid picture of a burly, dark-skinned man with a fake clean-cut smile. "I wonder how many pensioners and children he’s sucked dry for this?"


    "I see you know the score."


    "Actually, high society and everything about it isn’t mine," Percival sighed, handing back the Black Pitch. "But I do follow the media from time to time and even without it, it’s hard not to have heard something about that dirty son of a bitch."


    "Such a choice of words from you," Oskar murmured with amusement. "Unusual, but sometimes things have to be said."


    "Or be done - so you want me to get the shard for you?"


    "Absolutely," nodded Oskar. It seemed that he also had a certain dislike of Pink, but his main motive was of a practical nature. "A man like Pink, in possession of such a relic. To even auction it off and not present it to the world, Jesus lie or not, is a disgrace. However, since Pink is bringing the shard to our town, we are in danger if hunters get the idea of taking possession of the relic. One shard of the cross alone can give you immense power."


    "If the stories are true, then you are absolutely right and we must get the shard," Percival murmured thoughtfully. He had only read about the holy cross and its shard in passing, but had never even seen one of the shards from a distance and the cross itself was thought to have been lost since the death and resurrection of Jesus or was probably even destroyed by the church, considering the biggest lie in the world behind it. Not to mention the threat posed by the alleged power of the cross.


    "I’ve seen some splinters in the muses of this world with my own eyes," Oskar replied knowingly, demonstratively letting little flashes of blood magic flow through his clenched hand. "And sensed it. Yes, my dear mage Zivai, the stories behind it are true."


    "Then so be it! Do you already have a plan?"


    "Not quite," Oskar shook his head leisurely. He was always careful not to rush straight to the point and to show his counterpart a certain amount of appreciation. "We still need some information about where and how exactly the shard is being transported. Once we have this, I’ll leave the field to you. I have no doubt that you can devise and execute a capable plan to obtain the relic."


    Percival didn’t think otherwise, but he wanted to make sure, as with his studies and research. "Mhh and I can draw on all your resources?"


    "Whatever you deem necessary shall be yours," Oskar nodded, but that wasn’t a free pass for him. "But be careful. I will not condone waste or unnecessary damage to my clan."


    "I’ll probably go it alone anyway," Percival remarked. He was powerful and clever enough to do it himself. "And ... once I’ve brought the shard to you, would there be a chance I could work with it? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."


    "I was expecting that question," Oskar nodded knowingly, but he wasn’t generous. "Once the shard is in my possession, however, you’ll have to do without it for now. I must ensure that the relic is safe and hidden. Not a word to anyone about what exactly you obtain and bring to me."


    "Is it not safe here? Or am I missing some detail about the danger of the shard?"


    "Well, as I’ve never been able to carry out more intensive studies or experiments with any of these relics myself, my knowledge of them is limited," Oskar explained thoughtfully. There were still things that even a centuries-old, educated vampire couldn’t quite put his finger on. "I only have a few short transcripts of the shards, which you are welcome to read after your mission. One of them, however, states that the shard is like a beacon for true believers and users of holy power when used. So I’m sure you understand that I can’t let you use it right away, as I don’t want to give our enemies a reason to attack my estate."


    "I have a lot of patience and of course I fully understand your intention," Percival said, but he did not speak his true thoughts. A war was imminent and Oskar was a public figure. All enemies of the Tenebrae knew where the Patriarch lived and had reason enough to attack such a strong pillar of the Tenebrae even without the relic. So was it really the patriarch’s concern not to provide yet another reason or did he have selfish motives, for Percival was still aware of the other situation: whether he would somehow want to use the shard against the Tenebrae in case of doubt? "Then I await the necessary information and will now call it a night, if there is nothing else, Patriarch."


    "No, that will be all for now," smirked Oskar. Was he amused or disappointed by the mage’s urge? It was difficult to tell. "I wish you a good night."


    "You too, patriarch," Percival bowed curtly.