God Ash: Remnants of the fallen.

In reality, it was nothing more than a breeding facility.

Devils are created by the Broodmothers using the resources of the world. They drain the very life from it and plunder its fertility, turning wherever they step into dead land.

The Devil Spire not only serves as a place of dwelling for the dozens of Broodmothers, but it also doubles as a corruption zone.

Broodmothers weren't the only creatures that could create devilish monsters…

The human soul was a delicate material—something not to be easily tampered with. This was one of the reasons Devils were a feared race.

Their ability to tamper with and corrupt the souls of other creatures was second to none.

As one neared the towering structure, the very essence of the world became heavy, a sickly miasma hanging in the air. The ground was cracked and barren, void of the slightest signs of life, with dark veins pulsating beneath the surface as if the earth itself was diseased.

The dark vines stretched around to even the buildings around the spire, wrapping around them like the meaty tentacles of a deep-sea abomination.

The Spire was a nightmarish fusion of organic growths and twisted architecture—jagged black stone and sinewy flesh intertwined, pulsating as though it were alive, while in some places, it was mainly composed if some Devilish material.

At the base of the Spire, pools of thick, bubbling tar- festered. Within these pools were the incubators—wombs of filth where lesser Devils like the {Bladeless Devil Imps}, and the {Sentinel Drones} spawned.

These stagnant ponds were extensions of the {Broodmothers}. Within these pools, these weaker Devils tore at and consumed one another until the most powerful of them emerged.

The Devil race was one built upon bloodlust and survival of the fittest. Those who couldn't grow were devoured, while those who were powerful could stand on top of the Devil Mountain.

A constant chorus of wails and screeches echoed from within the depths, a symphony of despair and hunger that reverberated through the corrupted land.

Within the Spire, the {Broodmothers} lay in rest. Each of these towering, terror-shaped monstrosity was unique, shaped by the specific sin or vice they represented.

The previous {Broodmother} Cain had encountered was more of an outlier. Compared to others of its kin, it was far weaker; partly because it hadn't had the time to fully germinate.

But generally, their forms were grotesque; a blasphemous mix of feminine features and demonic appendages—long, clawed limbs, multiple heads, and eyes that gleamed with malevolent, yet archaic intelligence.

They were the engines of the Spire, responsible for creating new generations of Devils by twisting, polluting, and devouring the very essence of the world.

However, it wasn't just the Broodmothers who played a role in the production of these abominations.

Humans and Mutant Creatures that were captured, were used as raw materials. Souls were harvested in raids and battles, and once brought to the Spire, they underwent a horrifying process of corruption and soul degradation.

This abominable process was held within the spire. So far, the abominations that would be created by the Devilish corruption had yet to leave the walls of the Spire.

In a chamber deep within the Spire, one such process was taking place. The naked body of what could only be a human child was placed within a translucent sac of clear liquid wrapped in dark pulsating veins.

The ground within the Spire seemed to be made from living tissue that held the sac up., Keeping the human child suspended within.

All around that sac, were countless others, similar to it. Some contained humans, while others contained mutant creatures.

Within this place, several humanoid Devils chanted in a guttural tongue, their voices a low, rumbling drone. These Devils were intelligent; a cut above the rest, practicing the ways of Devilish occult.

These Devils were quite different from regular Devils. They were gaunt, their bodies thin and elongated. They didn't possess blades forelimbs. However, they wore tattered robes that hung like shadows, and their eyes burned with a cold, merciless light.

As they chanted in the abyssal tongue, tendrils of Devil Essence snaked out from the cesspools within the room through the dark veins, wrapping around the soul and dragging it down into the depths, corrupting it thoroughly.

The soul's struggles grew more frantic, its once-pure essence becoming tainted, twisted by the dark power seeping into it.

The process was slow, painfully deliberate. The soul was broken down piece by piece, its memories, emotions, and identity stripped away. Its humanity was meant to be consumed, then replaced by nothing by Devilish desire.

This was quite similar to the process the {Miasma Devils} used in the creation of {Zombies}, only far more thorough and complete.

All this happened in the lower sections of the spire...

In another par of the Spire, the Broodmothers themselves diligently at work. Each had their own spawning pits, where they laid grotesque eggs filled with embryonic Devils.

These pits were lined with organic sacs that pulsated rhythmically, feeding the developing creatures with the mana and essence stolen from the world. The {Broodmothers} hovered over these pits, their many eyes watching the progress of their spawn.

While {Broodmothers} were mostly responsible for bearing new spawn, they were also incredibly powerful Devils, vital during wars against the celestial hosts.

Occasionally, a Broodmother would reach into the pit with a clawed hand and pluck out an egg, inspecting it closely. If it met her standards, she would let it continue to grow. If it didn't, she would crush it in her grip, the contents oozing out in a foul-smelling gush.

Quality was paramount—only the strongest and most vicious Devils would be allowed to mature and leave the Spire. And once these eggs hatched, another cycle of brutality would take place, further filtering the blessed from the worthless.

The Spire wasn't just a place of creation, though. It was also a fortress, housing legions of Devils ready to be unleashed upon the world. The higher levels were where Devils of all shapes and sizes nested. They transported their findings through the spire in such manner, from the upper levels, to the {Broodmothers}, to the pits below.

The entire Spire was a war ground. Everyday, new Devils were brithed as even more died. That way, more and more Devils were created as more of them became more powerful.

Until it was impossible for the denizens of this world to stand against them.

Such was the nature of this terrible tower.

Standing at its zenith, a rather strange looking being could be seen. It was hunched over slightly, its long, gaunt figure a sight common in many nightmares.

The being was covered in a cloak of darkness, and its eyes were filled with macabre devilishness.

Its clawed hands gripped a long staff that had a skull attacked to it in place of a magic gem.

It walked slowly, watching the world around it be corrupted by the aura it oozed out.

"Hm? Humans in the city? Beings with breath still crawl within these buildings?" The terrifying looking creature spoke, its voice sounding like a thousand shards of glass being rated against one another.

Obegrin spoke through gritted teeth,

"Yes, Lord Abaloth."

The gaunt Devil turned its head, its hollow eyes staring into the devilish eyes of Obegrin.

"How did they evade our sentries for so long?"

Obegrin spoke cautiously,

"According to what I know they seemed to have arrived in the city today."

Abaloth frowned, "Today?"

Obegrin nodded, "They sailed across the place the humans now call the Blackwater Sea, before encountering Greotes before reaching the City."

Abaloth sighed, "That fool didn't think it would be appropriate to inform us?"

Obegrin bowed, "He is a fool indeed."

While Devils were inherently violent creatures, they were also very intelligent.

This meant they knew how to pick their battles, and they worshipped strength. A strong Devil would be revered deeply by the others.

Abaloth let out a sigh that sounded more like the death throes of an animal,

"And they managed to escape you say?"

Obegrin bowed deeply,

"Yes. One of the humans possessed some form of spatial magic."

Abaloth stayed silent for a few moments,

"Answer my question. How did they manage to evade us while in the City?"

"A strange magic barrier that wasn't picked up on by any of the sentries outside to barrier. It was a human that had killed many of our kin before. Fortunately, Inixth managed to kill it."

Abaloth let out a breath, "I see..."

Obegrin fell silent for a few moments before speaking again,

"My Lord... The City is mostly under our control, but the humans still have a foothold. This is happening because we haven't torn their roots from the ground and burned them to ashes."

Abaloth turned around and continued walking silently. Obegrin continued,

"I can say with all certainty that we can do it. Even with the power of the Celestials, they are still humans. Destroying their shells would be far too easy."

Abaloth suddenly paused in his tracks, causing Obegrin to stop as well..

He pointed a bony, black claw at the sky,

"What do you see there?"

Obegrin followed the direction the more powerful Devil pointed in,

"That... is a moon."

Abaloth nodded,

"When a Celestial attempts to claim new territory, they affect the world; bending laws and distorting principles..."

Obegrin, frowned, "You mean..."

Abaloth nodded, "This place is drawing the wrong attention. I've heard it... Many gods are being resurrected these days. Who knows when one of these ones will come back."

However, Abaloth chuckled, as though he wasn't concerned about this,

"Still, it does not matter. It is futile. There is no meaning to it."

His wicked, evil eyes oozed with dark light,

"The time for us to put these existences under our heels is fast approaching."

He turned to Obegrin,

"Soon... Exercise patience."