Fate/Book of Aaron

Not long after my battle with the adversary himself—Lucifer, the fallen morning star—a snare was set for me, intricate in its wickedness and vast in its scope. I felt the pull, as though the earth had opened its jaws and Hell itself had summoned me.

Before me loomed the Hellmouth, its gaping abyss wider than the span of the heavens, its depths blacker than the veil that shrouded Calvary at the hour of Christ's death. It was not merely a void but a hunger, a wound in the fabric of creation, staring back at me with malice. And I, its prey, stood unflinching.

"Sorrow fills my soul," I whispered, recalling the words of the psalmist: 'For the snares of death encompassed me; the torrents of destruction assailed me.' This was a place of utter desolation, bereft of light, bereft of life. And yet, for all its despair, it was not beyond the dominion of my Father. Even here, in this realm of rebellion and ruin, His sovereignty endured.

Hell is a prison not for the righteous but for the sinful, a place where even the angels are shackled, their rebellion turned to eternal torment. Yet I, neither sinner nor angel, had come not to be condemned but to fulfill a purpose.

My mission was clear: survival—for now. Deliverance—always.

The air shimmered with unseen flames, their heat palpable yet immaterial, like the breath of wrath itself. This place was alive with agony, the cries of the damned rising like incense from a perverse altar. I could hear them—those once-men, now shadows of themselves—wailing in anguish, their voices like the echoes of Eden lost.

I cannot save them, I thought bitterly, gripping my sword. Not yet. This is their curse, their recompense for rejecting the light. Still, it wounds me to leave them unseen, unheard, uncomforted.

Excalibur glowed faintly in my hand, its holy radiance a defiant spark against the oppressive darkness. It responded to my will, shifting and reshaping itself into a Montante sword, a weapon of vast reach and unyielding strength. In my other hand, the Spear of Destiny burned with a righteous flame as it morphed into a silver Honshu halberd, its blade etched with the sign of the cross—a reminder to all who beheld it of the Redeemer's victory over death.

And my bow? There was no room for elegance or subtlety in this hellish domain. I transformed it into something practical, something that spoke to the brute force needed to survive such a place: a silver super shotgun, its barrels inscribed with holy verses. I could almost hear the demons laugh, but my lips curled into a smile. Let them mock. The righteous need not be delicate.

Then they came.

The Ars Goetia, the 72 demonic pillars, erupted from the ground like volcanoes of flesh and flame. These were not mere spirits but princes of the infernal host, fallen rulers who had traded heaven's glory for hell's pride. Their forms were grotesque yet majestic, their bodies vast as mountains and adorned with the trappings of their damnation.

Their skins shimmered like molten gold, veins pulsating with rivers of blood, their eyes blazing with the fires of Gehenna. At the center of each chest, a grotesque purple heart throbbed visibly, each beat echoing like a war drum across the scorched battlefield.

I knew their truth. Not just demons, but tyrants—ancient kings whose earthly dominion had given way to eternal despair. Their wrath was not for me but for the God who sent me, the God they had betrayed.

Their voices rose in a thunderous cacophony, shaking the very ground beneath my feet.

"BEGONE, INTERLOPER! YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE!"

The earth cracked beneath us, molten rivers forming as the infernal plane reshaped itself into a battlefield. Their hatred burned hotter than the fires around us. Their cries were a mix of rage and disbelief, their pride wounded by my presence.

They struck first. A blast of flame and fury surged toward me, enough to annihilate armies, but I moved with purpose. The blow missed, carving a jagged canyon into the ground. I leveled my shotgun, its divine inscriptions glowing, and fired. The sound was deafening, the recoil like a hammer, and one of the Goetia howled in agony as its flesh burned with holy fire.

This was not a skirmish. This was a war of faith, a clash not just of strength but of spirit.

The place where we battled would come to bear a name whispered even among the damned: The Ashes of Screaming Souls.

As I stepped forward, resolute in the face of their wrath, I remembered the words of Isaiah:

'No weapon forged against you will prevail, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you.'

This was their domain, but I did not fight alone. For where I walked, the light of the Lord walked with me.

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The moment the Hellmouth opened before me, I felt it—an overwhelming force, a hunger that seemed to pull me into the abyss. It was not the pit of sinners or the eternal prison of the damned. No, it was something more primal. A gateway to a place far darker, far deeper than any earthly hell. The darkness that pressed in on all sides wasn't just cold. It was the absence of life, a soul-crushing void that threatened to swallow all that I was.

I stood at the edge, Excalibur steady in my hand, its holy aura dimmed in the oppressive heat of this place. The flame I had seen on earth paled in comparison to the unseen fires that whispered across the void. I could feel them, the restless spirits of the damned, crying out from the edges of the abyss.

I am not condemned here, I thought bitterly, raising my gaze to the yawning chasm. I am here to save what I can, to hold back the flood of destruction and lead humanity to the light...

Suddenly, the air shifted, the silence broken by the thunderous, horrific arrival of the Ars Goetia—the 72 demon pillars. Their presence was a force, a trembling quake of spiritual power.

I was no stranger to the forces of hell, having faced them in countless forms, but these... These were something beyond. Their bodies were vast, towering—giant-like, Nephilim-esque. Their forms radiated with the fire of rebellion, adorned in garments of molten gold and blood. Their eyes burned with the ferocity of stars going supernova, and from their hearts, pulsed a grotesque purple light that beat like a war drum.

I knew what they were—fallen kings, demons of the ancient days, bound by their pride. Their pride. Their defiance of the One True King. And now, they had come for me.

"BEGONE, INTERLOPER!" one of the demons boomed, its voice shaking the earth. "YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE!"

Ah, the arrogance of hell, I thought, my lips curling into a grim smile. Let them believe what they will. I do not belong to them. I belong to God.

I stepped forward, undaunted by their size or their fury. The words of scripture echoed in my mind:

"No weapon forged against you will prevail, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you."

The first blow came—a wave of fire that could have consumed entire cities. The flames were scorching, molten in their heat, but I didn't hesitate. My hands tightened around Excalibur, and with one swift motion, the Montante blade swept through the infernal fire, scattering the flames like dust in the wind.

The ground beneath me cracked, and the demons came charging, their roars reverberating like a thousand storms.

"It's time, my children," I muttered under my breath, the Spear of Destiny transforming in my grip, its shaft lengthening, its head flaring into a cross-shaped halberd that gleamed in the suffocating light. "Let's show these sons of perdition the power of the righteous."

The battle was upon me.

One demon swung its massive arm in a mighty arc, intent on smashing me into the dust. I sidestepped the blow with ease, my body moving like a serpent, and with a swift thrust of the halberd, I pierced through the creature's heart—its golden skin cracked like fragile glass under the weight of divine retribution. The beast's form began to warp and shrivel, its screams echoing across the battlefield, but it was no use. It was already too late.

I fired my super shotgun next, the deafening blast deafening the infernal chorus around me. The blast tore through the demon's midsection, causing its insides to explode in a shower of dark matter.

And yet, they kept coming.

"You are nothing!" another demon howled, a being of fire and blood, its arms curling like the serpent itself. "You cannot win! The King of Hell will devour you, child of light!"

"I've faced worse." I spoke coldly, raising my weapon. "And yet here I stand, undefeated."

Suddenly, the ground beneath me trembled as the earth cracked open in a violent fissure, splitting the battlefield wide. More demons surged forward, filling the chasm with their overwhelming presence. But I wasn't alone. I could feel it—the guiding presence of something greater. My Father's will moved through me, fortifying me with strength I hadn't known I possessed.

A flash of light erupted from my chest, and Excalibur flared with a brilliance that blinded even the might of the demons. The sword stretched forward, growing ever larger, as if calling on the very might of heaven itself. I held the blade steady, and with a single strike, I cleaved through the hellish horde, the air vibrating with the power of a thousand angels.

One of the demons howled in pain, staggering back from the sheer force of the blow. The others hesitated, unsure of the power that now stood before them. They thought me weak, unworthy of the wrath they sought to unleash. But in that moment, I knew the truth.

I was the seraph of the Lord, a champion of light—an instrument of divine justice. And no matter how many times they struck, no matter how powerful their fire, it would never be enough to stop me.

"I will send you back to the pit!" I cried, my voice now a roar that echoed across the abyss. The demons faltered, some shrieking in terror as they began to retreat. "You will know the wrath of the righteous!"

And with that, the battle began to shift. No longer were they the hunters, and I the hunted. I had become the storm.

The Ars Goetia demons—giants, kings, fallen angels—screamed in their own panic as I wielded Excalibur, the Spear of Destiny, and my Divine Shotgun to carve a path through their ranks. The Ashes of Screaming Souls would become their legacy, as they crumbled to dust beneath my wrath.

In the end, the darkness would be driven back, but only for a time. The demons may have been vanquished, but they would rise again. And I would be there, standing against them, as long as the light of God burned within me.

The demon armies of the Ars Goetia encircled me, their hulking, grotesque figures standing in opposition. The very air around them rippled with the heat of their flames, their eyes burning with malevolence. They hissed and growled like a pack of ravenous wolves, but they weren't wolves. No. These were ancient kings and fallen angels, who had once ruled vast dominions and dared defy the Creator. Now they had been cast into the abyss, and today, they sought to drag me down with them.

Their voices boomed as one, a chorus of fury and contempt that sought to break my resolve.

"You are nothing!" The first demon, a hulking beast of red and gold, rumbled with disdain, his voice deep as thunder. "A servant of the heavens, a fool who believes in mercy, but in the end, you are just a lamb in the lion's den!"

"You think you can face the wrath of the true kings of the abyss?" another growled, stepping forward from the shadows. Its wings unfurled, blotting out the dim light. "You are a mere speck of light in a sea of darkness. The flames of hell will devour you!"

The others echoed their sentiments, their eyes flashing with fiery contempt. "A fool's heart, blinded by the light. The righteous are always so certain of their victory, yet they fall just the same as we did!"

I took a slow breath, the weight of their taunts pressing in on me like a suffocating storm. These demons were proud—arrogant, even. And in their pride, they underestimated me. They thought me weak. Thought me a mere instrument of God, sent to purify them with nothing more than empty words and hollow promises. They were mistaken.

I stood, unflinching. My hand tightened around Excalibur, its brilliance flaring like a beacon in the encroaching darkness.

"Is that all you've got?" I scoffed, taking a casual step forward. "You do realize that I'm not here to play games, right? You're right, though... I do believe in mercy. I believe in giving people the chance to change—something you demons clearly know nothing about."

The demons' growls grew louder, their fangs bared, and yet, for all their monstrous size and hatred, they still trembled in the face of my defiance.

"Mercy?" one of them sneered. "You think you can save us? We have seen the face of Hell itself. You are just another mortal—an insect to be crushed underfoot!"

"If you think I'm a mortal," I said with a smirk, "then perhaps I've underestimated your ignorance." I swung my halberd with a casual flick of the wrist, its tip slicing the air with a loud whistle. "I'm actually a ?!@*|$, a divine warrior sent to carry out the will of the Lord. And you—" I gestured to the army around me. "You are nothing more than ants in His eyes."

They roared in fury, charging in unison with the power of a thousand storms. The first beast lunged forward with a colossal fist, aimed to crush me in a single blow. I tilted my head to the side, dodging the strike with grace, before bringing Excalibur down on its arm, cleaving through the golden armor like butter.

The demon howled in agony, stumbling back, its arm severed at the joint. It fell to the ground with a sickening thud, the hellish fires around it flickering in response. I looked down at the fallen beast, my eyes cold.

"Well, that was too easy." I raised my halberd again, its shaft gleaming in the dim light. "Who's next?"

"You!" one of the demons shrieked, its form twisting like a serpentine horror. It lunged at me with speed that would have shattered the very earth beneath its weight. But before it could even touch me, I shot forward with the speed of an angel's wrath, slamming the tip of Excalibur into its chest. The impact was enough to send it careening into the air, its scream trailing behind it like a gust of wind.

Another one tried to flank me, but I was already moving. With a flick of my wrist, Excalibur cleaved through its wing, causing the beast to plummet to the ground in a fiery heap. The fire around me roared louder, but I paid it no mind.

I was in my element now, the light of heaven coursing through my veins.

"Tell me," I said, turning to another demon as it stepped forward, "how does it feel to have everything you've ever believed in slowly crushed beneath your feet? Is this what despair looks like? You must be used to it by now."

The demon howled in fury, its body shifting into something far more monstrous. It rushed toward me, its claws slashing like razors. But again, I was faster. I ducked under the blow, spinning and delivering a powerful kick to its ribcage. The demon's body flew back, crashing into a nearby pillar with an audible crack.

"You think you can destroy us?" another one sneered, its voice dripping with venom. "We are legion! You will fall before us, mortal!"

I gave a wry smile.

"Legion, huh? I guess that's what happens when you're too many demons to fit in one place." I wiped my brow dramatically, then raised my halberd once more. "Let me tell you something—" I drew the weapon high into the air, the heavens themselves seeming to open for a moment as a burst of holy light flooded the battlefield. "I serve no mortal king. I don't care if you were once gods. You don't get to decide who lives or dies. I am the hand of judgment, and you are nothing but dust."

With a battle cry, I swung down with a divine fury. The halberd struck true, cleaving through the demon's body with the force of a divine judgment. Its screams echoed through the abyss as it dissolved into nothingness.

The remaining demons faltered, their arrogance fading as the realization set in. Their pride had led them here, but it would not save them.

"Is this your king's best?" I mocked, standing tall amidst the wreckage. "You all came here expecting to defeat me? To pull me into your domain and claim me as your own? Well, you're sorely mistaken."

The demons stood silent, their fury now tempered with fear. I could see it in their eyes—the fear of an entity they could not comprehend.

"I'll say it again," I said, voice echoing in the dark. "I am the ?!@*|$ of the Lord, and you will all return to the abyss from which you crawled."

With that, I charged forward once more, and the battlefield became a sea of blood and flame, the echoes of the demons' screams lost to the power of God's righteous fury.

The last of the 72 Demon Pillars writhed and staggered, their monstrous bodies broken, bruised, and burning. Their once-glorious forms had been shattered before me, their pride crumbling like dust in the wind. They had come, expecting to trap me in the abyss and tear me apart piece by piece. But instead, they had tasted the divine wrath of the heavens itself. And now, all they could do was flee, their strength broken, their arrogance shattered.

One by one, they retreated into the shadows, dragging their wounded, smoldering bodies back to the deepest recesses of the abyss. Some stumbled, their forms flickering and distorting as if the very act of retreating drained them of all the power they had once wielded with such arrogance. They were no longer the towering giants that had once stood proudly before me. They were broken creatures now, mere husks of what they had once been.

"This... this is not over!" one of them growled, its voice ragged with pain. It glared at me, its golden eyes still burning with fury. "You may have defeated us, Aaron, but we will return! You think you've won? The true power of the Ars Goetia has yet to be unleashed!"

Another demon, its once-majestic wings now tattered and singed, let out a hiss of fear. "You fool! You've only awakened the true wrath of our king! The true Ars Goetia... We are only but fragments of what awaits you!"

They began to scatter, their bodies dissolving into the dark, their voices lost in the air like the final wails of the damned. And yet, even as they retreated, there was no denying the change that had come over them. Their arrogance had turned to fear, their pride to desperation. They had tasted the divine fire, and now they were broken beyond repair. The once-feared Demon Pillars were now nothing more than scattered shadows, fading back into the abyss from which they had crawled.

But I knew... this was only the beginning.

"You'll never escape," I called after them, my voice steady, unyielding. "You can run, but the judgment of God will find you. And when it does, there will be no place to hide."

They didn't answer, nor did they need to. The fear in their eyes told me all I needed to know. They were broken. They had felt the wrath of a force greater than themselves.

And yet... there was something deeper at play.

I turned, my gaze shifting back to the smoking battlefield. The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh, the ground scorched from the battle. The 72 Demon Pillars had been reduced to nothing, but what they had hinted at—the "true Ars Goetia"—lingered like a shadow on the horizon.

They had run... but only to regroup.

In the distance, I could feel it—the stirrings of something greater, more terrifying than anything I had yet faced. The demons I had defeated were only the beginning. The true Ars Goetia, the ultimate force of hell, was beginning to stir.

I clenched my fist around the shaft of Excalibur, ready for whatever came next. I had survived their onslaught, but this was far from over. The abyss was only beginning to open, and I could feel the weight of what was to come pressing against me.

"You think you can stop me?" I whispered to the darkness. "I am a ?!@*|$, a blade of judgment. And if you are truly the servants of hell, then let me remind you... I have been chosen to cast you all down. I am the judgment you will never escape."

As I stood amidst the fallen demons, a quiet laugh escaped me, though it was not one of triumph. No... it was one of resolve.

"You wanted to pull me into hell. But now, I'm the one who will bring hell to you."

[Ability acquired: ?!@!?(*]