Now the kitchen was starting to look like a place that belonged in the land of the damned.

  Aida looked around, horror in her eyes as he observed the field of collapsed demons curled up in balls, spewing vomit of wine-red. While the ones still on their feet were scrambling like a flock of headless chickens.

  The dissonance of ejecting fluids splatting all over, demonic wailing and groaning drilled into her kitsune-enhanced ears, making her push her palms into them as she winced, but it barely did anything to block out the noise.

  “Go already!” AJ said.

  Aida turned back to her, pausing to study the malice in her dark gold eyes.

  Does she not feel any remorse? Aida thought and then grabbed AJ’s wrist, dragging her along as she darted toward the arched door, navigating through the puddles of vomit and the horde of demons.

  As AJ started cackling, Aida’s head snapped back to her, and then she glanced at the tree, continuing to dance and shake its flowers.

  Blood Seed plants were lifeforms Aida couldn’t see herself ever taking a liking to. They solely existed to cause harm and enjoyed it.

  They reached the mysterious door, and Aida pushed it open, stepping and pulling AJ inside as swiftly as possible.

  The door slam was faint under the cacophony of agony from the other side.

  Aida immediately began to scan the area… and there wasn’t much to see.

  With the art nouveau-y touch as expected, but it was devoid of any furniture. It was an empty room.

  “Vomarestrum,” AJ said, shaking with jubilance.

  “What?” Aida asked.

  “That’s the name of the tree. I just know that now.” AJ put her hand over her chest. “I can feel it. I’m connected to it. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s hard to explain. Is this what magic feels like?”

  The smile on AJ’s face was as guileless as Naomi’s, but unlike the hybrid’s, it didn’t prompt Aida to smile back. Frowning, she approached AJ, letting her nose guide, and began to sniff.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” AJ said as Aida’s nose touched her shoulder.

  The scent signaled Aida to look down and crouch. She did as so and pulled up AJ’s leather pant leg. There was a tiny bite mark on her ankle.

  Even though she already knew, she just had to confirm it.

  Aida stood up, shaking her head. “Sylvie could’ve smelled the blood off you.”

  “Well, it got us into the room, didn’t it?” AJ snapped.

  Aida sighed and turned around, noticing a small elevator in the wall patterned with flowers and demonic sigils.

  “It’s a dumbwaiter,” AJ said.

  “They’re delivering that food to the delivery room or wherever the mother is. I know it,” Aida said. “I’ve read many case studies of females impregnated with Rebirth Seeds. The things that cause cravings in normal pregnancies like hormones, nutritional deficiencies, and a heightened sense of smell are tripled when it comes to Rebirth Seeds, but the cravings are geared toward more demon-like food.”

  “Wait, I’ve always meant to ask... did you also have access to your own library?”

  “No, I wasn’t as lucky to have an entire library of information left to me by a resourceful grandmother, but plenty of creatures have libraries with records of supernatural ailments. The Elven Realm has many books on Rebirth Seeds, since because of their physiological similarities to humans, elves are also a prime target for impregnation.” Aida explained and then clicked the button next to the small freight elevator.

  AJ made a soft stammer once the door of the lift opened up.

  After a light on the lift’s button panel switched on, Aida turned to see an AJ she was more used to, slumped slightly forward and cowering while avoiding eye contact. She glanced at the small elevator and then back at AJ. Quickly putting 2 and 2 together, she said, “Don’t worry, it can fit the both of us. I’m part kitsune, remember? I can compress my spinal structure into that of a—”

  “It won’t work,” AJ said sternly.

  “How do you know? We haven’t even tried yet—”

  “I just know, okay?”

  “Okay…” Aida said, raising her hands, then looked at the elevator again. “They were carrying a bunch of food with them. So the lift made multiple trips, quick ones at that, probably. So I’ll go first, and then you—”

  “I’m not getting into that, Aida!” AJ barked.

  Aida stepped back and took notice of how much she was shaking.

  “You go,” AJ said, crossing her arms.

  “We’re going together.”

  “Someone should stay behind to stall. If both new apprentices just vanish, then it’ll be suspicious. I’ll tell Sylvie that I took you to the emergency unit.”

  “AJ—”

  “We have like 2 hours left, right? Just go!” AJ said, slamming her hand against the wall. Fury burned in her eyes.

  If only she could do more. Aida really wished that she could, but it seemed that even breathing near AJ stressed the tall girl out.

  “Okay,” Aida said, admitting defeat. She plucked some strands from AJ’s hair, pushed it into her mouth, and climbed into the compact space.

  AJ pressed the bottom before she could even give her a smile and wave.

  The doors closed, and the elevator shot downwards like a nosediving rocket.

  It was over before she had the chance to swallow.

  Aida slipped out of the elevator once the doors were open, and the Black Magic energy she felt around her was more intense than what was in the kitchen by a long shot. The difference was comparable to the contrast of the universe’s shortest Leprechaun to the universe’s tallest Titan.

  The room she dropped into was just like the one in the kitchen, only with a color palette of a much darker tone. But for sure, she had to be deeper within the Netherworld. Her soul purity levels were dwindling faster than before, having her mull over if she should’ve taken more medicine.

  Not only were her Mana senses disturbed, but her sense of smell was also going through it—human blood, Mana potions, and chemicals… lots and lots and lots of them.

  Inducements.

  Aida sniffed some more and began to pick up on a fishy-like stench laced with sulfur—demonic pregnancy discharge. She smiled, realizing that the Demonologist may have accounted for entities picking up on the Rebirth Seed’s Black Magic but didn’t make contingencies for her top-tier gift of scent.

  Kimberly was near and past the black iron door before her.

  When Naomi walked out of the room with TV Head, the last thing Ugo expected was to be told by one of the characters on the suited creature’s television screen to shut up and follow it down the dark corridor.

  And that’s exactly what happened.

  Naomi told him to be quiet and just follow the TV Head in a much more delicate way as expected coming from her, but it didn’t do much to ease his concerns even after she explained that TV Head was going to take them somewhere that would help them get to Kimberly.

  While standing outside of the room, when Naomi and TV Head were talking, no matter how hard he pushed his ear onto the door, he could only hear static. That must’ve been TV Head’s doing.

  Ugo had to believe in Naomi’s words.

  Allegedly, she was transparent about what she and TV Head talked about. The topic was Gill’s partnership with the Netherworld; not every demon was onboard. If Providence Infirmary were to offer help to the Archdemons to get Gill to fail on his promise to the King, he would be booted from the Realm.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Naomi’s words. He didn’t trust the creature with a TV for a head. Naomi’s guilelessness is something cruel souls would happily take advantage of to earn trust, and Ugo feared that was taking place.

  TV Head stopped and turned to a sigil-marked door on its left. The woman on its TV screen said, “Dr. Rathru’s office.”

  Ugo raised a brow. The wound on his back throbbed. “I thought you said you were taking us to Kimberly—”

  “We were looking for Dr. Rathru anyway,” Naomi interrupted. It didn’t just seem eager but defensive. “Maybe he can help!”

  Naomi let herself inside while Ugo studied TV Head. He and the smiling woman on the television were having a stare-off, which was cut short by Naomi’s scream.

  “Naomi!” Ugo shouted and rushed into the room.

  He found Naomi standing in the room with her head tilted upward.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The first thing that caught Ugo’s eye was that the office was empty, and the floor was stained with demon blood.

  Naomi slowly lowered her head, staring at Ugo with fear in her eyes as she pointed up.

  Ugo’s eyes followed, and he found where the office furniture went. The desk, chair, cupboards, cabinets, and plants were there. All covered in black blood but intact, flipped over and fixed onto the ceiling.

  Although Dr. Rathru wasn’t intact.

  With a single horn protruding from its forehead, the brown demon lay on the ceiling, naked with a face just as twisted as its body.

  All of Dr. Rathru’s organs were exposed.

  Zeke stepped out of the elevator and into the muggy corridor that awaited him.

  The corridor was lit, confusingly, with onyx flames burning off the sconces on the walls made of yellow masonry. The floor was covered with black, uneven flagstone.

  It was a whole different Realm, alright. The weight of Black Magic in the air and the copious sources of the energy had Zeke staggering and groaning, giving off the similar sensation of tasting an absurd amount of different flavors all at once.

  And then, his body stiffened, and the sensations slowly evened out. He could feel his suppressed Healer’s Garb sorting through all the sources of Black Magic and forcing him to focus on one—it felt cold, malicious… and familiar.

  Zeke moved forward silently as if in a trance. He reached a wall, turned right, pushed open a bone door unalarmed by its unwelcoming design, and entered a room filled with workbenches and demons clad in the same uniforms as him.

  They paid no heed. Maybe it wasn’t just due to the uniform, but the way Zeke moved like another ordinary disgruntled worker, blending in perfectly even with his medical bag in hand. On the south exit, there were two doors. He chose the one to his right and continued moving mindlessly.

  As Zeke navigated through corridors and lab rooms, his thoughts had been silenced with one left to be as loud as possible being—he needed to reach that specific source of Black Magic energy.

  After three more turns and down a staircase (where a multi-horned screaming demon head mounted on the wall to the right scared the ever-living shit out of Zeke), he arrived at a corridor where demonic faces were carved into the yellow walls. Zeke plodded forward, body slightly shivering at the drastic drop in temperature.

  He stopped before a stone door to his right between two columns.

  The door was coated with so much Black Magic energy that it was visible—taking the form of a dark purple haze.

  It was blocked with a barrier spell without encryption. Vesklepios let Zeke know that all it took was to surpass its Black Magic output to break it, making him realize that until then, he was avoiding using magic for no reason.

  Simply applying the magic without including his Garb’s energy is all he needed to remain in the clear.

  Without any worry about letting his purity fall even further, he put out a massive output of Black Magic energy, allowing it to coat his hand as he reached out and touched the barrier.

  The haze disappeared in an instant, and Zeke opened the door.

  Gold. Gold was everywhere.

  In the hexagon-shaped room, the wall and floor panels were taken over by a shade of gold so yellow that it was almost nauseating to look at for too long.

  Bizarre treasures were propped on pedestals, and ample cabinets were filled with even more. Replicas of demonic beasts in the form of statues or head mounts had been decoratively placed all over, from lifelike to made out of black diamonds.

  The multiple candelabras in the room failed to outshine the giant twisty one that hung from the demonic sigil-marked ceiling.

  Zeke crouched, unzipped his bag, and gently tilted it, letting a mangled Yuri roll out.

  “How are you?” Zeke asked.

  “Never been better,” Yuri said. It was unclear if he was being sarcastic or genuinely meant it with his arguably impaired sanity.

  Zeke looked away as limbs began to unfold, reconnect, and twist back into place, making a song of pops and cracks. “Do I need to get you medicine?”

  Yuri pulled out a knotted plastic bag from his pocket with his fingers still bending back into shape, snapping and clicking in the process. He fingered a hole into the bag filled with... something. They were small and disc-shaped, covered with dots, each a different color.

  “What are those?” Zeke asked as he removed his respiratory mask and left it on the floor.

  Showing even more of what had to be an incredible tolerance to pain or just plain crazy, Yuri pushed himself up and flipped onto his back. Plenty of groaning followed, then he dumped all the medicine into his mouth and crunched. After a painful-sounding swallow, he said while catching his breath. “Caladrius egg candies. They help with my regeneration as long as it is just wounds and broken bones.”

  “Wait, what about all those vials you have with you?” Zeke asked.

  The Blind Weirdo smiled as he grabbed a nearby cabinet, pulled himself up, and leaned onto it.

  Zeke wanted to tell him to slow down, but again... you can’t argue with crazy.

  More squirm-worthy sounds cracking came from Yuri’s bones as he reached into the inner pocket of his overcoat, having Zeke recoil and avert his eyes.

  He pulled out a long, thin vial of black liquid, held it up in front of him, and bent it in multiple directions. “Flexible, unbreakable glass. I’m telling you, the dwarves from Svartalfheim can make anything.”

  The intrigue had Zeke bravely move his eyes back to Yuri. “Oh. What is that place like?”

  “Actually, I’ve never been,” Yuri said. “I bought it from the Market.”

  “Market? Which market…?”

  The cracking of Yuri’s bones was abating as he paused. “Um… the Netherworld Market.”

  “Why do you come to the Netherworld so often?”

  “... I’ve lived here. For quite some time….” Yuri said and walked away.

  There was too much going on to try to press on the matter. Zeke decided to give up on it before even trying.

  “What is this place?” Yuri asked, scanning the area. “I’m feeling... a lot in here.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Zeke replied, looking around. “I just felt drawn to this place and...” he trailed off as something caught his eye.

  On the east wall of the room, there was a trio of giant amber gold frames; Zeke approached them.

  Each frame held an oil painting, but the third portrait to the right was mostly destroyed. It was marked with black goo, and pieces of it skinned as if someone had gone ballistic with a scalpel. Zeke could make out what looked like raven black hair, a blushed nose, and some parts of a hand at the bottom, but that was it.

  The oil portrait in the center was the only one in good condition. It showed a man bearing a neutral look with an impressively long beard paired with a walrus mustache in contrast to the lack of hair on his head. He sported bifocals and 18th-century clothing with a long, sigil-marked black robe over it—Torzelas.

  “This is a previous Demonologist.”

  “Hm?” Yuri asked Zeke, approaching from behind.

  Zeke turned back to him and explained. “There are three portraits here. The one on the right is completely destroyed, but the one in the center is a portrait of a Demonologist.”

  “Of which Tainted Generation?” Yuri asked.

  Zeke got his answer when he looked over at the portrait on the Demonologists’ left.

  A handsome face with beautiful medium-length wavy hair. Dark green eyes matched the color of the leather coat he wore over his fancy apparel, which included a vest and tie.

  Scrawled across the painting in black goo was: “TRAITOR.”

  The eyes of the portrait brought back Zeke’s attention as if communicating with him through ethereal means. His hollow cheekbones and sharp jawline made for a defined face that was much different from the last time Zek saw him—he was burning in a black cloak with a zombified face and the part of his head just above his eyebrow missing.

  There was no denying it.

  It was Alexander Skaggsy.

  “The Thirteenth. The Thirteenth Tainted Generation,” Zeke said, pointing at the portrait as if it would help Yuri see. “It’s Alexander Skaggsy wearing my Garb.” He knew even though the Garb was black for some reason.

  Yuri let out a whistle. “The Thirteenth Damned, huh? How does one become the Damned, anyway? Do you just act so terribly until everybody has no choice but to call you that?”

  “No. That’s not how it works at all,” Zeke said. “There’s this thing that happens with the Tainted that nobody knows why. One of us, after death, is sent to Heaven no matter what we do. That is, the Deliver. Another one of us will go to Hell after death, no matter what we do. The Damned.”

  “What about the other 9?”

  “Nobody knows. Their souls just vanish.”

  “So is that why Skaggsy did all those things? Because he knew he was the Damned and would be condemned no matter what he did?”

  “I actually don’t know,” Zeke said.

  “But they all did bad things, right? So how come only one of them was the Damned? What led them to do all those atrocities?”

  “I don’t know.” Zeke said. “I don’t even know all the specifics behind their crimes, but I do know in full detail what they did to the fairies.”

  “Yeah, you guys are the reason why I can’t visit the Fairy Realm. There was a weekend I planned a trip there, I was excited, and then—”

  “I saw Alexander Skaggsy up close once…”

  Yuri’s face fell.

  Out of everybody in his life, Zeke chose Yuri to be the first to share his troubling visit from the Damned man himself.

  “It was a few months ago. I don’t think I was hallucinating or anything like that. It was real. He looked different, but it was him, and somehow I knew it without a doubt in my mind.”

  “What did he want?” Yuri asked. “What did he say?”

  Zeke walked to Skaggy’s portrait. “He told me: ‘See you soon, Ezequias Rosario.’”

  “Referring to…”

  “The Netherworld. And here I am. Right where he wants me.”

  “You’re just here to complete a job, Zeke,” Yuri said. “As long as you stay away from Tarkatos, that’s where they hold the worst of the worst. You’ll be fine.”

  The attempt at reassuring Zeke was for naught. As he felt the edges of the aged frame, the dread inside him only grew. “The word: ‘traitor’ is written across the painting,” he said and then looked at the Demonologist’s portrait. “I think by the Demonologist.”

  “I thought everybody in the Thirteenth Tainted Generation was working together apart from the Deliverer.”

  Zeke curled his lip to the side, eyeing the paintings back and forth. What did Skaggsy do? How did he screw the Demonologist over?

  “I don’t know much about Skaggsy,” Zeke admitted.

  Then came a damn good question from Yuri. “Is that because you couldn’t find any information on him, or you’re too scared to look?”

  The award-winning inquiry had Zeke give him a stare.

  “I’m not judging,” Yuri said. “I can’t imagine how it feels to be the successor of such a horrible human being.”

  An energy source yanked Zeke’s attention away, and his head snapped to the room’s south wall, where an alcove was. Zeke moved up to it, Yuri following him.

  The closer he got to the alcove, the more agitated Vesklepios became.

  Zeke’s steps grew heavier as he fought to keep Veslepios’ energy from being released. It was clawing, bashing against the constraints he put on it.

  On the floor near the alcove was a toppled golden statue in pieces; Zeke didn’t take time to figure out the statue’s identity as something infinitely more concerning grabbed hold of his focus.

  In the alcove was a pedestal with a baroque guitar standing on it.

  Zeke clenched his body, mentally telling Vesklepios to calm down as he neared the instrument. Stains were across its ebony veneer. The strings on its ebonized hardwood neck and head still looked playable; it was clearly old but in good condition.

  “That energy…” Yuri said.

  Zeke reached for it.

  It was just for a second. Just a meager second. With one touch of the fingerboard, Zeke lost control and emitted the energy of his Healer’s Garb in a powerful burst that shook the room and its contents, staggering Yuri.

  After stabilizing, Zeke and Yuri stood still, allowing silence to swallow the room like a couple of office workers on the top floor after an earthquake scare, debating internally if they should take the stairs or the elevator.

  Zeke was the first to break the silence. “I don’t think the hospital noticed—”

  A boney hand landed on his shoulder and spun him back.

  “If you want to visit my hospital, then you have to make an appointment like everyone else, Azaekias,” said Gill, grabbing the top of his curls and then slamming his face into the gold-plated floor.

  Anderson's Supernatural Medical Fun Facts: Strong emotions such as love or misery can lead to powerful charms and curses being put in place even by those with no Mana infinity.