Havoc. Chaos. Destruction. Annihilation.

The only acts to be familiar, to fall back on, to rely on. Lingering in the shadows of the abyss, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. After all, that's what one would expect from a demon.

Infamously known as Hell's Emperor, Rastakhan brought an age of fortune to demonkind a long time ago. Not the first to have done so, yet possibly one of the most influential. Whereas the hellscape had no laws and boundaries, he brought forth a greater force and structure. No demon dared defy him, having no choice but to follow in his shadows to survive. The aim was to build an army to escape the wretched hellscape- To break its confinements and wreak havoc on the entire universe, leaving nothing behind. After all, that's what one would expect from a demon, no?

A demon. A devil. A monster.

Throughout his existence, Rastakhan had heard those titles several times. It wasn't until his arrival in the abyss, that he could wear those with pride. You see, the majority of demons were born in hellscapes tied to the abyss- But Hell's Emperor was an outlier- An exception to the norm. What were the odds of an old god losing his ways, finding them once again amongst the chaos and unending fires of the hellscape?

Nihil.

Nearly nihil.

— A DIVINE RIGHT —

---

The abyss as destination had intent behind it. The wretched unending chaos had collided before with entire civilisations, planets, worlds, galaxies- It brought destruction, which had been at the core of Rastakhan for as long as he'd known. Since his birth, he was meant for a greater purpose- The bounds of his original society and home didn't stop him. They were artificial, idiotic rules set up by a council of six unknowing beings- A council that Rastakhan would be part of, one day. Every single citizen in that idiotic society, was a deity- Yet the lot of them bowed down to their six rulers, called the Essence of Pantheon. The draconian had never liked borders, confinements, limits. The lot of them were deities with unlimited potential.

What was the point in wasting it on puny mortals and their galaxy? To receive a puny offering in return as a puny thank you? To be worshipped in various languages, yet none of them with any meaning? To be called upon for deific powers, yet utilised for the most insignificant of ends?

Rastakhan was born as the heir to the Deity of Destruction, approximately 11 millennia ago. Meant for a greater purpose, which was following his predecessor to take over the title one day. The draconian had always been powerful, his youth was no exception- The first time the deity exceeded his parent, he was barely just a teen at the age of ~500 years. Whispers amongst the shadows, words of potential, prodigies and legends. Words that would turn into tales, the older Rastakhan got, proving time and time again he would become a fine deity to fulfil the path of destruction.

His shimmering silver scales and golden fires, Rastakhan was like no other Deity of Destruction before him. The draconian was a magnificent sight and beloved by many in his home- Celebrations of his ascension rose soon after his predecessor had passed to natural cause. From this point on, Rastakhan could indulge in his deific magic, fulfilling his duties by causing annihilation- In balance with his opposite on the council, the Goddess of Creation.

The Essence of Pantheon was ruled by the Six Essences, split in three pairs of opposites. Their society had a plethora of rules, yet many unspoken ones to go by. One of those, was to be in balance with one's other half- Yet Rastakhan didn't pay Duerdine much mind- Same went for when her daughter Medeis took over. The draconian had always shown more interest in honing his abilities throughout his existence, squabbling with other deities would only delay it. There was always something to be cracked, to be broken, to be destroyed- After all, that's what one would expect from a Deity of Destruction.

And yet, there was a time Rastakhan had a place within his soul to cherish instead- Regarding something, or rather someone, better whole than broken. That one exception proved to be the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite, whom Rastakhan knew of thanks to his opposite. The sight of a magnificent dragon alongside a snow white angel was truly one to behold. The two deities fit together as fire and ice, as light and dark, as sun and moon- They'd encircle one another for millennias, as close as the tiniest of molecules one time, and as far as the ends of the universe the other. One moment there was nothing but peace, the next there was everything set ablaze. Apart so often, yet always returning- No one was ever quite sure what to make of their commitment. Whatever the two had, their endless cycle was by no doubt passionate yet toxic.

She was the first to curse him of a monstrous nature. He'd gone overboard for the first time, a bit too intense for what his duties were as deity. In the wake of destruction, was nothing left but a broken planet- Everything and everyone annihilated. It was supposed to be another world. It was supposed to be uninhabited. It was supposed to be discardable.

All that was destroyed was merely the world, which hadn't moved past its evolutions for thousands of years. Did anyone really care for a few species of wildlife? Wasn't the point of destruction to bring forth new creation? To let evolution bloom amidst the change, to let it mutate for the better? What was the point in wreaking havoc if there were an infinite amount of nitty-gritty artificial laws?

It got Rastakhan a slap on the wrist, essentially. Mistakes happen, he was told. Pay more attention next time, was followed up. The deity couldn't care less about getting away with what could've been regarded as an aggression- The fact he was ridiculed for doing his duty by his beloved, was one he couldn't move past. What was he supposed to do? Sit and wait until he was dust, before a suitable object to destroy would pop up? Bundling his powers to destroy only what was of insignificance, compared to Creation bundling her powers to create what was of significance?

It was the classic society he knew for eons- One so high-up to care about its mortals, yet so little about their own kind. It was unfair. It made up rules where there should've been none. It made a hierarchy of importance based on mortals' wishes. It was a world with so much potential, yet so many confinements. It was artificial idiocy. It was full of so much bullshit the Deity of Destruction didn't agree with- Yet he was able to do naught about it, for he was stuck in it.

— DIVINE DIVIDE —

---

The deity continued with his duties and his on-off commitment as per usual. Occasionally, he would slip in overusage of his powers for the sheer satisfaction, fun and chaos of it. After all, he was the embodiment of Destruction, it would be odd if he didn't enjoy whatever his powers invoked. As the millennias passed by, those moments of disobedience would increase more and more- It would go by unnoticed for the idiots for a longer while. Rastakhan could finally relish in his powers, enjoying the freedom once the laws and limits of idiocy were removed.

Then he was caught red-handed. Witnessed by his opposite of Creation herself, Medeis was quick to report the event to the rest of the council. To say they were furious was an understatement. To say Rastakhan didn't see the point of it, was also an understatement. Escalating it to court, it fell easy to Rastakhan to defend himself- And he was met with nothing but threats and the idiotic laws in return. It resulted in a split of the Pantheon, ones that were on the side of Creation, which was unsurprisingly the majority, as all of them were idiots. Then, the other side was Rastakhan with Destruction, accompanied by several hundreds of deities. Surprisingly more he pulled to his side than anticipated- Perhaps there was hope for these deities to smarten up?

Though before he could have any other chance to rally allies, the Divine Divide was declared. A civil war. Creation against Destruction- The latter heavily disadvantaged, but that wasn't a problem. Rastakhan had grown beyond his capabilities, by merely using his destruction outside what was permitted for millennias on end. If they wanted destruction, they'd have to fight to take it from him. If they wanted destruction, he'd gift its glory to them without any issue.

Ruin befell the Pantheon and their home immediately. Both sides suffered losses, though it was mainly on Destruction's side- As the most powerful deities were sided with Creation, unsurprisingly including the other five Essence deities, the Deity of War, the Deity of Wisdom and so on. Rastakhan couldn't care less about those puny idiots- What did stab at least a little however, was his beloved amongst them. The draconian knew he was regarded as a monster. A devil. A demon.

Might as well embrace it at that point, was his thinking- And destruction came forth in quantities never thought possible. Waves upon waves of ruins and casualties, as if it was nothing. Retaliation brought forth just as much, and it was clear that Rastakhan himself was evenly matched against the powerful deities. Over the next century, the side of Destruction would take hits little by little, until there was no one left but the demon himself.

She was the first to curse him, and she was about to be the last. The sight of her tears never had done him any good. It only took a mere second of that weakness to turn the tides- The demon surrounded, with endless pairs of eyes boring through his skull, with endless stinging arms glossing over his scales. Rastakhan let out a long, tired sigh, more than capable to know when it was the end- Closing his eyes, expecting death to arrive any second. If it was done and over with, the draconian at least wanted to die without any image burning into his afterlife.

"Leave", is the first word she muttered after they reunited.

"You are to be banished from these lands, not to return."

Other voices were rising in the background, presumably those of the Essence deities.

"You will never be welcome here again."

He could feel the destruction seeping off his bones, away from his being.

"You will never be a god again."

His Essence was weakening, and he didn't know what would happen once it was gone.

"You have always been a monster. You never belonged here."

The light was dimming.

"Leave."

— EMPEROR OF THE ABYSS —

---

Endless fires, screams and the sound of chaos ringed in his ears, the next time Rastakhan opened his eyes. Thrown in a wormhole after he was stripped of his powers, the Pantheon deemed him dead- As if by sheer luck, he'd survived. He found himself on a planet overtaken by feral creatures never seen before- Beings with bulging red eyes, visible bones and fire tails were attempting to feast on the demon, assumed to be a carcass. When they were crushed a mere second later, the demon had a better look around.

A primitive civilisation, akin to many of those puny worlds he had to look after with those idiotic deities- Taken over by hellspawn- And a bright idea came to Rastakhan's mind. The abyss. That's where he ought to go to. The Pantheon had taken his powers, ensuring there was nothing left- But what they failed to realise, was that they could never take Rastakhan's sheer will of ambition and destruction.

Blood seeping from his wounds, bright fires reflecting in his scales, demons shrieking away at his being- The embodiment of destruction stood up amidst the chaos, his eyes set on the portals the hellspawn came from. He couldn't care less about the bone and blood feast for these puny imps. The abyss was about to welcome him home, and Rastakhan was set on making it.

Recovery proved no issue, especially once Rastakhan started consuming lesser demons on the daily. What wasn't expected, were the influences afterwards. Shimmering silver scales turned to dull grey plates. Golden features turned to crimsons as dark as blood. His Essence never recovered, though Rastakhan was gifted with the arcane of demons instead- The once golden fires matching the crimsons, it was as if the draconian was born anew. The dawn of a new age, a new life- And Rastakhan would utilise it to become more powerful.

Throughout the next few centuries, Rastakhan rose above the chaos in the abyss. The more he consumed, the more powers he gained, until he was the most powerful demon within the shadows- Other hellspawn would bow to him without hesitation, lest they got their limbs torn off one by one, to serve blood and bonemeal. Hell's Emperor, they called him, the one above all to rule them all- Amidst the chaos and disarray to bring order and law.

— HELL'S SUCCESSOR —

---

In the following eons, Rastakhan built an army of hellspawn, gaining further power. The abyss was fine and all, yet Rastakhan hungered for more, for what was beyond this hellscape- It was a far better home than whatever planet the idiotic deities lived on, but there was undeniably a bitter taste left. The hunger demanded escape from confinements, demanded endless freedom- And it demanded revenge on the Pantheon.

Though it would come to an end, sooner than later.

About three centuries into his ruling, Rastakhan could feel his essence getting weaker. A Pantheon deity only lived about 10,000 years- Rastakhan guessed as much that could catch up to him earlier, if he managed to stay alive despite the odds- Despite the fact he was now, by all means, no longer a deity, but the ruler of demons. With technicalities in mind, Hell's Emperor announced a tournament for demonkind within the entire abyss- Best the emperor in battle, with as little as a gaping wound, and the winner shall have the honour of bearing his offspring.

Throughout decades, Rastakhan was challenged by thousands upon thousands of demons- Not necessarily to be his mate, but alternatively to overthrow him and take over as demonic ruler. The idiocy of these beings was humoured so often by Hell's Emperor- Did every being in the universe had to be a puny thing after all?

And yet, the first to best him, was a demoness clad in thorns as sharp as needles, and as deadly as poison. They called her Eisheth, a curse from the depths of the dark. A stark contrast to someone the emperor had known in the past- She even had a similar figure. And for one single second, Hell's Emperor thought back of her- The very next second, shaking those idiotic memories off. There was nothing but rage in the past- He'd gain nothing by reminiscing, nor by repeating previous choices. All that mattered, was now- And his priority was to extend his power to the future.

The thorn demoness was the first hellspawn in existence to carry offspring within the abyss. Every step along the way was unknown territory, though Hell's Emperor had patience. He couldn't care less about anything but his legacy, ensuring the safety of his mate with that in mind- Though he didn't allow himself to care any more than that, lest it proved futile again.

50 whole years.

Rastakhan waited around for half a century when it finally seemed time for his legacy to continue- Though the timing was severely off. The moons were at their highest, aligning in a straight line, visible from the planet- And Rastakhan knew doom would befall them. In the distance, the first sparks of portals appeared, through which a new generation of demons would soon emerge to cause a massacre. It couldn't happen now- He was about to witness the start of his legacy! It was unfair! It was idiocy!

The demonic emperor held off the forces as much as he could- Though in their current state of vulnerability, it didn't prove enough. Engulfed by thousands upon thousands of hellspawn at once, Rastakhan wasn't even able to see a smidge of his offspring, before his essence was taken from him. The carrier bearing the same fate, though not consumed due to the prickly and needly texture.

If only Hell's Emperor had been able to stay around a little longer.. Witnessing the most horrific and gorgeous sight of a bright green elemental monster crawling out the carcass. He could've held her and named her himself, instead of passing these instructions to what would be the remnants of his army. Illenium, the emperor decided on, for she would light the path out of darkness, into the depths of the universe to consume it all.

— END OF DAWN —

---

And that, Illenium did.

At the height of the End Of Dawn, brought forth by the Overseer Veernum, Illenium and her demons were let free to consume the cosmos. Gaining power with every world overtaken, the Thorn Monarch became as powerful as a divine being- Able to open gateways to various underworlds, releasing endless demons to consume planets in a matter of hours. The demon queen utilised her magic to resurrect her father, doubling the chaos reigning over the stars.

With no second to waste, Hell's Emperor commanded a portion of the army the opposite way- Spreading out their influences and hellspawn at quicker rates. The more he consumed, the more Rastakhan gained powers greater than the ones he had previously combined- He would've been able to surpass his old Pantheon self, as well as his demonic self. The final destination was in sight for him- The home of those puny idiotic deities, the faction he was still very keen having his revenge on.

Eating away at the deific grounds proved no issue- The demonic emperor even enjoyed the endless sound of chaos all around him, as he fought against multiple deities at once without second thought. Nearly the Pantheon pinned down, his previous colleagues bleeding in the gutter and his beloved feasted on, it all suddenly ended in a silent whisper.

As if nothing had happened, Rastakhan, his daughter and their entire demon army were banished to a place of nothing. As if it was done with the snap of a finger, as if a deity had been their doom. Encircled by dozens of figures with seemingly no vast figure, it was as if they were in a place darker than the abyss itself- And it was. Ruled over by the freshly restored Overseer Xal'Tharon, technically a deity of the entire universe- The demons found themselves within the void. The noise of static in the background, shadow entities watching their every move, the universal deity keeping them confined.

It couldn't end with a whisper. It couldn't end with silence. It couldn't end with nothing.

Hell's Emperor refused the fate. There would be a second chance. The demons were alive within the void- Even if its properties were starting to taint them- Rastakhan had done this before. It would merely be a repeat of the abyss, but bigger and better this time. The draconian could feel it in his bones, his flesh, his blood, his nerves, his neurons, his everything that made up his essence. Hell's Emperor would never stand down, and neither would his offspring.

It was only a matter of time, nothing else.