Blood Berserker - [ A Litrpg Apocalypse]

"Kabash, what brings you here?" Demon Lord Ezra growled, clutching his throne's armrests with great force. "That is Demon Prince Kabash to y

"Kabash, what brings you here?" Demon Lord Ezra growled, clutching his throne's armrests with great force.

"That is Demon Prince Kabash to you, Ezra," Kabash sighed.

The demon prince simply grinned in the face of the angered Demon Lord. Ezra's hate for him wasn't born out of nothing, and the pair were yet to hash out the matter—something that Kabash highly doubted would matter after he made his offer.

"Demon Prince Kabash," Ezra said through gritted teeth. "What do you want from me?"

Always the narcissist, aren't you?

Kabash remained standing in the center of the Demon Lord's throne room, patiently waiting for the oversized gnat to stop frothing at the mouth. Being left to stand by a demon who was beneath him in rank was a barely disguised insult, one that Kabash would've repaid in kind if not for the fact that he and Ezra went way back. They'd fought side by side in the Seven Wars of Hell, led by none other than the Demon King Zephyr the VII.

Snap!

Kabash snapped his clawed fingers, summoning a throne for himself from out of the red. The laws of hellfire bent to obey his whims, eager to satisfy their prince, unlike the demon who sat opposite him—Ezra.

Despite the obvious insult, Kabash's grin remained. The demon prince always looked at the bigger picture.

"Tell me, old friend, have the decades been so unkind to you that you've forgotten your manners?" Kabash asked.

He stared at the Demon Lord, who was gnashing his teeth as he thought about a vile and despicable response. Kabash didn't worry though; he'd done far more damage to Ezra than the demon could manage to do to him until the day he ceased to be useful.

"I am no friend of yours, Kabash," Ezra growled, spittle flying from his mouth.

The sight caused Kabash's grin to spread wider. He'd be loath to claim that he couldn't figure out how exactly they'd gotten to this point, but that'd be a silly lie to tell himself—even as a demon. Once the pair had been brothers, comrades in arms. Alas, Ezra was an honorable demon, willing to climb the hierarchy of hell without staining his soul beyond what was necessary. Kabash, on the other hand, didn't believe in the word "honorable."

It was nothing more than a lie, or more eloquently, a leash hung around the necks of those gullible enough to believe in such a concept. They were demons, for Zephyr's sake—they didn't need to adhere to morals, and so he hadn't. He'd stolen his so-called brother's path of ascension to Demon Lord at the time, rising faster than the so-called honorable demon until, alas, there was naught but hate and a hierarchy difference between the pair.

"You're right, we are brothers," Kabash said.

"No, Kabash, we are nothing," Ezra muttered sadly. "Once we were brothers, but no longer."

Kabash tapped on the armrest of his throne, his claws clicking and clacking on the marble as he calculated the best way to move forward. Before coming here, he'd known that Ezra would be tougher to crack than a devil's nuts.

"It doesn't have to be that way, Brother."

"What do you want, Kabash... my dignity, my throne, my life?" Ezra asked.

"None of that. I need something else entirely—your help," Kabash said.

He held back the urge to chuckle at the look of interest that crossed the Demon Lord's face. The older demon had always been a warmonger. He'd been sidelined for the most part by Demon King Zephyr the VII, partly due to a few whispers from Kabash himself.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

The old warmonger had been left to hang around in his throne room, growing weaker as new demons began to get ready to challenge him for his position as Demon Lord. Kabash didn't beat himself up much about his influence on the current state of his so-called brother; all he'd done was speed up the natural selection of Hell—the strong ruled the weak.

That was what made Ezra the perfect choice for his little experiment. He hadn't even dropped his proposal, but he could tell that the Demon Lord had been ensnared, captivated even. He stared at Kabash, waiting for him to offer a lifeline, and what was Kabash if not the most opportunistic demon?

"You remember Demon Lord Taloth?"

"That upstart?" Ezra snorted. "I heard he has met his end?"

"That he has," Kabash confirmed. "He fell before he could establish an outpost for Hell on the baby world Earth."

"So I heard. How does this concern me?" Ezra said, leaning back on his throne, no longer clutching his armrests.

"For one, a good opportunity has presented itself," Kabash started. "Demon King Zephyr the VII has assigned the baby world to me, and I felt like an opportunity like this would interest you."

The demon prince relaxed after dropping his proposal. He could sense Ezra's mind going wild as the Demon Lord tried to find Kabash's angle on the entire proposition. The demon prince was unperturbed; Ezra certainly wasn't one of the smartest demons, and even if he left the demon with a full year to consider the proposal, he wouldn't be able to scratch the surface of what was on Kabash's mind.

The only demon that Kabash feared when it came to applying his cunning was the Demon King Zephyr the VII. The Demon seemed to be head and shoulders above every other demon in the Seven Hells. The Conqueror of Worlds was a living legend in the deep bowels of Hell.

"What do you benefit from this?" Ezra asked suspiciously.

"Why? Prestige and fame, of course," Kabash said like it was the most obvious thing in Hell.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing the Demon Lord stood to gain from manipulating his friend into beta testing a baby world that had already claimed the life of a Demon Lord. Even if most demons looked down on Taloth as an upstart, Kabash knew better. The now-deceased Demon Lord was competent, if anything.

No demon could rise in a place as competitive as Hell without being competent in some aspect. The Seven Hells were ruthless and uncaring. They demanded a hundred percent from everyone at every given moment, lest they have their golden opportunity snatched away from them—just like Ezra's.

He stared at the Demon Lord who looked lost in thought. No doubt the old and significantly weakened demon was considering the pros and cons of joining up with Kabash. The Demon Lord probably knew that Kabash was going to screw him over in some way and at some point, but the allure of regaining his strength and status was too appealing to the Demon Lord, and both demons knew it.

Come on, gnat, agree.

He wiped the grin off his face, replacing it with a sincere facade as he waited for the Demon Lord to give his answer on the proposal. With Ezra seemingly wanting to take his time before coming to an answer, Kabash glanced idly at the throne room of the Demon Lord, taking in the substandard materials used to make and create the demon's seat of power.

Trash.

Just like the one who sat on it, Kabash labeled the throne as trash. Crafted out of inferior stone. No doubt like all the other posturing idiots, Ezra had designed his to look like the Obsidian Throne. It wasn't even an exaggeration on his part; almost every single Demon Lord, Lady, Princess, or Prince's abode he'd seen had a vague similarity to the Obsidian Throne on which Demon King Zephyr sat.

Demon King Zephyr the VII, the ruler of all the Seven Hells. The Conqueror of Worlds. The one demon that stood between Kabash and his goal of becoming the highest power in the Seven Hells. He idly tapped on the throne room floor, not to interrupt the Demon Lord's thinking but to try to connect the dots of his nefarious plots that were still missing.

Killing the Demon King would require special circumstances; perhaps the king would need to be poisoned or in a dampening field or... Kabash stopped his thoughts. He wasn't quite sure how exactly he was going to be able to take on the Demon King. To the Seven Hells and back, Kabash wasn't even sure there was a chance in Hell that he could take on the Demon King even at half strength.

That demon was way too strong for him, and so, stealing a glance at the Demon Lord still considering his proposal, the beginnings of a plot started to take form in his mind, and soon enough, a grin broke through his sincere facade. He wouldn't necessarily have to kill the Demon King himself to get the throne. He'd simply let someone without common sense or care for their safety do it.

"I'll do it," Ezra said finally.

Yes, you will.

"Great, I'll be in touch with you," Kabash said as he tossed the Demon Lord one of his tokens.

Without waiting to spend any more time with the weakened and old fool, he snapped his fingers, bending the laws of hellfire to transport him back into his own throne room. With no one else around, Kabash couldn't help but cackle maniacally.