Whilst the heroes had their meeting in blood and guts another meeting was transpiring. Although in a much more civilized manner.

The meeting took place on a distant mountain range in a mighty castle. In one of the countless rooms of the castle. A simple wooden room, its walls filled with bookshelves and a map of the known world. In the middle of the room a big table was barely visible, hidden underneath books, papers, and maps.

Around the table sat a group of demons, ever busy controlling the chaos of reports and information found on the table.

They were attendants working under the eight Demongeneral, General Marin. The General too was hard at work organizing the most recent information in order to present them to his attendants.

The eight Demongeneral and his subordinates are an odd bunch by the Demons standards. Often seen in mixed light, not because their incompetent, but rather because they are not like the other demons. General Marin is the only of the Demongenerals, who denied the honor to command his own army. Openly going against the dream of every Demon, instead he took command over most of the domestic and foreign affairs.

Because of this many disliked General Marin. However he did his job marvelous leaving next to no room for complaints.

The door to the room opened and a Demon entered. He didn’t look all to different from the Demons working at the table. They all shared the same dark skin and blood read eyes, only the horns set the newly arrived apart. His horns were twice as big as the others, growing from the side of´his head upwards slightly curved. From far some might mistake them for a halo.

The moment he entered all the work stopped and books and reports were put aside, after finishing a last sentence or writing a note. The demon, General Marin, used this moment to walk to his place and prepare his documents.

After a moment when all work had finished he rose from his set and started to speak.

“This daily meeting will focus on the heroes of the human kingdom. The report about them reached my hands yesterday evening. Our spies have collected as much information as they could before their meeting.”

He sat back down again and handed a stack of papers off to his right. The papers made their way around the table, with each attendant taking a small stack.

“I will now summarize the most important contents of the report. There are 37 heroes who attend the meeting. The report indicates that this is the entirety of heroes the humans have. According from our spies in Ironwall the meeting is just some kind of political stunt from the nobility. We don’t have intel on all the heroes sadly. Some noticed our spies and fought them. Manly the thieves and mages. Some of our pies managed to escape others not. There is one notable exception to this however, the hero Bara, which is according to the limited intel a fighter and managed to dispatch of the spies assigned to them.”

He fell silent for a moment, to let his attendants write down some information and ask questions if needed. As expected one hand rose up.

“Do we have information on how strong the heroes are?”

“Sadly not much. They all moved rather quickly towards Ironwall rarely displaying their strengths. We only have reports of their deeds, sourced from local rumors and tales. From those gatherings I learned that there are heroes among them capable of defeating Wyvern.”

An unrest went through the room. A fear was told nobody was willing to say out loud. The heroes could kill Wyvern. Wyvern monsters just below Dragons, Behemoths and Leviathans. Killing a Wyvern gave one the qualification to become a Demongeneral. There are 37 heroes and just 10 Demongenerals, math gives an obvious brutal answer.

“Your worries are not unreasonable. I have already given this intel to the Demonlord. I hope it is taken into account with his current plans. In light of this grim revelation I propose that we develop some plans for the events that will happen if the report is not exaggerated.”

The rest of the meeting went on without something noteworthy happening. The most noteworthy thing to happen was the addition of a new task, of aftermath plans. They spoke about the heroes and gathered some ideas on how to best take care of them. After that the topic shifted to internal affairs and how they had been faring so far.

The talks died down after a some hours, when no one had something new to add. Then everyone went back to their usual tasks. General Marin too stayed in the room and continued his own work.

He frowned after he read the most recent report of the Demonlord. He was pushing more and more for an open war against the Human and he was finding no to little resistance in his endeavor. Marin was the strongest voice against it and often the only one. He was the most influential, but sadly no other general shared his sentiment.

The Demons commonly believed in power above everything, wits or prawn it didn’t matter. They believed them superior than Humanity and saw it as their right to rule over them.

Marin agreed with the sentiment of his fellow Demons, but he didn’t agree with their conquest. They were strong and had strong allies, but their opponent was nothing to laugh at.

But their enemy wasn’t weak far from it. The Humans of this generation were strong. Almost equal to the common Demon and they were cunning. Most importantly they are cunning, knowing the art of war like no other. Demons fought straight forward, even in war, with clear stakes and rules. A win is a win and a loss is a loss and all accepted it. Humans see it differently, they fight on and on even after they had lost. Devising tactics and plans to outsmart their enemies or change the stakes midway in the fight. Marin hadn’t fought Humans, but he knew that they would put up more of a fight than any common Demon.

He was against fighting Humanity, at least for now. Demonkind had just united under one banner and were driving. So are the Human, they hadn’t been in a major war and weren’t to hostile to each other. Despite not being to war in a longer time they had still a lot of strength and experience and massive armies were still standing.

Marin believed in the core values every Demon had and threat it was their destiny to rule over Humanity. Still thinking you can defeat them now was foolish. Demonkind needed some more years to be able to fight and win against the current Humanity as it is, that's what he believed, sadly there were only few that believed him.

Many had questioned his views and many had tried to remove him from his power. He prevailed and kept his position and always tried to bring his fellow generals and the Demonlord to understand, but to now avail. In the end the only thing he could do was take care of everything that the Demongenerals wouldn’t and prepare countless plans for all the possible scenarios.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Murray was dead. It was obvious. He could clearly remember the pain he felt when the Giant crushed his chest. He knew that the giants foot had moved through his body like a rotten piece of wood, destroying his insides.

However the it wasn’t the pain or the memories of his death that made him sure that he died. Instead it was his surroundings. He had his fare share of near death experiences, but always managed to survive. In each of his near death experiences he had a dream. The dreams were all similar in nature he found himself in a dark castle, made of gray, black and obsidian stones. With each experience he found himself deeper in the castle. The first time he found himself before the gates, the second time he was in the first courtyard, the third time in a hallway, and so on. And each time he managed to flee the castle.

This time however he found himself at the end of a hall, before a set of doors. The doors towered above him dwarfing anyone who stands before them. They were black slabs of obsidian masterfully ornamented with engravings of stories depicting all sorts of creatures sapient or not in their last struggles. Right before his eyes there was an engraving depicting a human being squashed by a cloaked figure with horns like a bug. It was him; Murray, and the engraving depicted his death.

He stood before the gates of death. There was no escaping anymore. Just behind the doors death resides and judges the dead. He wasn’t to religious, mostly because churches had no real power in this day and age, but due to his near death experiences he was inclined to believe that the old legends about gods had some kind of truth to them.

Among those legends he believed those surrounding the god of death the most. How else could he explain his experiences the best. The legends said that the god of death resided in the world of the dead in a night black castle. The god of death awaits all those who have died in his throne room and behind the gates of death. All those who come before him will be judged according to the lives they have lived. One can not bribe him or hide things before him. Death is all knowing, having seen everything the dead has brought.

Another piece of legend was about the gate of death. It is said that on the gate the death the last moment of every living being is engraved. The moment you find yourself on the gate you have perished irreversible. That why Murray had always run away the moment he had found himself in the castle. He didn’t want to find the gate. As long as he didn’t find the gate he couldn’t check if he was there and as long as he didn’t see himself there he was alive. That was his logic and it seemed to have worked, at least he believed so.

Now however he couldn’t run anymore. He was dead there was no debate. Murray had seen himself on the gates and that meant he was dead. He didn’t like it, he was only in his late thirties after all, much to early to die. But he wasn’t angry or hysteric. One of his philosophies of life after all was not to be upset about already spilled milk. Not getting upset about things in the past is a valuable skill. A skill to few people seem to have, a skill that saved his life many times and potentially that of his allies a lot more often.

No matter what he liked to try he was no withing the grasp of a god. Human against god, only legendary heroes could fight against them and Elysian could win against them, he was neither of them. Murray was only a member of the underworld. He was the Butcher, the enforcer of the law of the underworld and Enforcer of debts. Definitely no hero in shining armor, or a twisted antihero. He liked his work and the benefits he got from it, no denying that.

He realized that he was only buying time. No matter who you are dying took a toll on your mental health, no matter who you are. Going through the gate meant accepting your own death. He wasn’t ready for that, but he couldn’t do anything against it. Standing here in the hallway and procrastinating wasn’t going to work either.

He took a deep breath and jumped over his shadow, metaphorically. Moving forward and started to push the door open. Pushing the door needed all the strength he could muster. The door moved slowly inwards creating an opening to slip through into the throne room.

The room was big dark room only some pillars decorated it. It felt like he was walking in a void in a space devoid of anything, but himself. He walked forward further into the room, further into the dark. His sense for danger didn’t tell him anything, it stayed silent. Murray would have loved if it went of or told him that there was something suspicious out there. It was silent a god wasn’t a danger he could understand and death was no danger, but a simple constant.

Suddenly the scenery changed. Right in front of him a throne appeared, the centerpiece of the room and the void. Murray felt drawn to it like a moth towards light. Looking at the throne gave him a strange feeling. He couldn’t categorize this feeling, he had never had a feeling that was like this. He had experienced a lot and felt a lot, but his feeling was new. The closest he could describe it was as a mix of fear, relive, excitement and the feeling of being in the presence of someone stronger. Yet it was so much more, its own separate feeling.

The throne wasn’t empty, something sat in it completely veiled in shadows, hidden by the dark of the room. Not even their silhouette could be clearly seen. The only thing Murray could definitively see was to massive horns sprouting from what he assumed was the head. The grew from the side of the head outwards and curved forwards to the face. The horns looked a bit like a cows horns, albeit paler. A truly unfortunate comparison, considering who he was comparing them to.

“Murray. It seems like I got you this time for good. I have to admit you were one of the most difficult to catch souls I have come across in a long time.”

The shadow spoke. Their voice death itself. Murray couldn’t find a better word to describe the voice he just heard. It was a hollow bodyless voice, with no trace of life or belonging to anything. Despite that he didn’t feel intimidated be the voice. Instead he felt some kind of twisted “warmt” of an embrace in the voice.

“I take it, it was meant as a compliment?”

“Of course it was. Someone who runs like you is always worth complimenting.”

“I never thought that running away was my greatest accomplishment.”

The god of death chuckled. The laugh sounded like rattling bones. Murray didn’t know what he should make of the laughing or the entire situation. The god of death didn’t behave like he thought they would. He always imagined the god like something grim and serious and noble. They didn’t behave like that, not even godlike. Not that Murray knew how someone behaved godlike.

“Its something to be proud of, but not the most interesting part about you. The thing I am most interested about you is your death. I saw in others deaths a Giant, mercilessly killing them without effort. The Giant picked my interest unfortunately there was no one who saw you die to the Giant, who has died.”

“I was with some guards surly they would have seen my death and some might have come here.”

“Yes they all did come here, but they were to preoccupied with the Rose Knight that I don’t have any information on your death.”

“I am willing to trade this information with you.”

“Very well. I shall not judge you for your deeds in exchange for your memory.”

“And here I thought death was indiscriminate.”

“I am a god I make the rules and enforce them. I am not obliged to follow them. Enough of that let me see your memories of death.”

The god of death waved their hand, clearly intrigued and impatient to see Murray’s memories. Murray wasn’t sure how he could show the god his memories. He didn’t have something to give to him or magic to show him his memory. The only thing he could do was to think about the moments just before his death and so he did.

Murray was back in the small court surrounded by houses. One of the many places they stored valuable products. He was surrounded by the guards and wielding his cleaver. On the other side of the court the Giant, the Rose Knight and some women were standing. The women hid behind the two fighters afraid as they are. The Giant, a tall figure hidden under a black cloak and wearing a red mask depicting an Oni, was truly a sight to behold. Murray knew that this was an opponent that was on an equal level to him.

They both rushed forward ready for confrontation. The Giant didn’t have a weapon, with him. That was no reason for Murray to go easy on his opponent. He swung his cleaver with all his force aiming for the neck of the giant. He wasn’t playing around. Murray recognized his opponents strength and had no plan on drawing the fight out or leaving his opponent alive for questioning.

His cleaver broke, from the impact. He realized this now that he saw the memories of his death for the second time. Not even a second later his view changed and he saw the sky filled with stars. Then a pain flared up in his chest and was gone as quick as it came. He had died. Murray now realized how quick his death had come. He didn’t stand a chance against the Giant and died like a roach, squashed beneath a shoe.

His memory ended as abruptly as they began and he was back before the throne in the dark room. The god of death remained silent, buried in thoughts.

“The memories of your death are quite interesting. I was right in my suspicions about the Giant.”

“What suspicions, if I might ask?”

“The giant is an Elysian most likely. The speed and strength are extraordinary. Most importantly the Giant was unharmed be your attack. All your power and might did not harm the Giant in the slightest or slow them down. Your strength is equal to some heroes and yet you hit an immovable object.”

“Is the Giant really an Elysian I thought they feel more like a force of nature and not like some raider in the night.”

“Believe me you don’t want an Elysian to go all out. The last time they did….”

The god of death fell silent. The horns lowered, indicating that the god was deep in thought. After a moment he continued.

“… Even the gods would be scared, but that doesn’t matter for you. Your already dead and Elysian aren’t really interested in the souls of the dead. You may go now”

“Before I go I have one last question. In the legends there is a tale about an Elysian that fought and killed the god of death for their love. Is that true? Who did win?”

The god of death leaned forward his voice growing cold and hostile, like the ruthless grasp of death.

“Which answer do you wish?”

Murray didn’t know which answer he did expect and he wasn’t interested anymore. The only thing that counted, was that he hopefully didn’t offend the god to much. His greatest worry was that he made the god of death go back on his promise.

“Don’t worry I haven’t forgotten my promise and I am not going to break it. As I said I won’t judge you”

Suddenly the door to the throne room burst open. Letting through a mass of decaying corpses and ghostly creatures. Howling and screaming they charged at Murray. He tried to draw his cleaver to protect himself and to fend of the horde of spirits, only to realize he had lost it. The spirits reached him and started to drag him away, screaming courses at him and ripping his skin apart. To his horror he realized the faces of many of these spirits. Faces of former victims of his work.

“But they will”

The god of death waited in silence until the spirits had dragged Murray away. They were gone as quickly as they came only leaving behind a trail of blood and Murray’s screams of pain that echoed from the castles hallways. After that the god snapped his finger. Shortly thereafter a group of vaguely human looking creatures arrived and started to clean up the mess Murray had left behind.

Those creatures are murderers, cowards who killed for lowly feelings, such as greed and where to incompetent to cover up their deed. Now in the world of the death they are tasked with cleaning up, a task many souls haven’t survived. Well someone had to clean up the puddles of acid drool left behind the hellhound or other such things.

The god of death remained on the throne thinking about, what they had seen through the memories of Murray and those who were at the scene. The Giant was without a doubt an Elysian or of similar origins. The Rose Knight proved to be strong but didn’t show any signs of being an Elysian, only being someone equal to a hero.

It has been centuries since the last Elysian showed. The most important thing was the Giants identity and objective. The god of death had now concrete grasp on this. There is one thing the approaching war between the Demon and Humans, but which side will the Giant choose. No matter what things are bound to get interesting once an Elysian shows up. The god of death welcomed this turn of events. The next years certainly won’t be boring or predictable.

Now should the god of death inform the dragons about the emergence of an Elysian or not. The god was debating this. It would make things even more interesting if the dragons were to partake in the coming events.

The mighty Dragons were ever since the appearance of the first Elysian looked in a blood feud. Both Elysian and Dragon, were the only ones who could be a serious threat to each other.

Anyways there are much more important matters the god had to attend than listening to a thug and thinking about the future. For example finishing to bake the cake in the kitchen. Just before Murray arrived the god of death was busy making cake in the kitchen for their most beloved. It was about time that the god returned to the kitchen and finished making the cake before anything went bad.