Infernal Ascendancy
Chapter 45: Vorthalax’s Will

Chapter 45: Vorthalax’s Will

35 Years Ago — Final Gate of Hell

The volcanic throne room trembled as magma veins pulsed beneath the blackened obsidian floors. A thick haze of sulfur and brimstone choked the air. Shadows of tortured souls wavered across the towering pillars of jagged bone and iron. Upon the highest throne, carved from the skull of an extinct hellbeast, sat Azreal—the Sovereign of the Final Gate of Hell.

He rested his chin on his fist, eyes closed, radiating calm—yet the room still shuddered under the pressure of his very presence. A sudden rip in the air, like a claw tearing through fabric, signaled the arrival of Hulk, his loyal and battle-worn general. Hulk dropped to one knee, sweat beading on his brow, and spoke with a rumble.

"My lord Azreal... we have a problem."

Azreal’s eyes slid open—twin pits of molten silver glowing through the darkness.

"You look troubled, Hulk. Speak."

"A new intruder. Humanoid... but draconic. He’s trying to claim the Land of Ashes. Every elite squad we sent to repel him... none returned. Not even ashes remained."

Azreal narrowed his gaze.

"A dragon-like human, you say? That’s new. I haven’t heard of such a presence before."

"Should I summon Lady Selmora?" Hulk asked, wary.

Azreal shook his head.

"No. Selmora would sooner torch the entire land than negotiate. And this... this is personal."

He stood. The obsidian throne groaned, a low screech echoing like tortured steel. With a snap of his fingers, a gate of flame and shadow burst open before them—its swirling vortex screaming with damned voices. Without hesitation, Azreal stepped into the fire, his cloak billowing like demon wings. Hulk followed, and the gate slammed shut with a thunderous boom.

---

Land of Ashes

The scorched wasteland cracked under every footstep, smoldering beneath a sky of red clouds. The ash-choked winds howled like banshees, and blackened corpses littered the barren soil—each one bearing the sigil of Azreal’s guard.

In the center of a shattered obsidian field stood Dragos—his body emanating heat, flames dancing across his scaled shoulders. In his grasp, another guard struggled helplessly.

"Pathetic."

Dragos opened his mouth.

A river of hellfire erupted from within, consuming the guard in seconds. Charred remains collapsed in silence, the smell of burnt flesh mingling with brimstone. Fiery veins flared in Dragos’s eyes as he turned, only to freeze.

A gate split open behind him with a hiss of compressed energy. Azreal stepped out, followed by Hulk. Azreal walked straight toward the burnt corpse and stepped on it, grinding bone into dust. He then knelt, placing a glowing hand on the remains.

In an instant, the ashes ignited, rising in a pillar of flame—then vanished.

Dragos watched in stunned silence.

"Did he just... burn his own guard again?" he muttered, unsettled.

Azreal’s eyes locked onto Dragos.

"So you’re the one causing all this noise."

Without warning—BOOM—a burst of wind erupted. Hulk stumbled back, shielding his face. Azreal had moved. In the blink of an eye, he was inches from Dragos, gripping his wrist in a death hold.

"Not bad," Dragos sneered. "I thought you’d be weak."

He tried pulling back—but Azreal didn’t budge.

Then came the heat.

The air shimmered. The skies above began to bend. Hulk staggered, clutching his throat. Flames danced on Azreal’s skin without burning him. Dragos gasped—the moisture in his mouth gone, sweat drying on his brow.

Azreal leaned in, eyes glowing like twin suns.

"Don’t struggle... or I’ll rip it off."

Dragos fell to his knees, choking, eyes wide with panic. Azreal released him. Dragos coughed violently, lips cracked and skin burned.

"Now then," Azreal said calmly. "Tell me your name."

No answer. Azreal knelt again, his hand glowing as he touched Dragos’s head. Dragos felt his lungs seize—like drowning in lava.

"I won’t repeat myself."

"D-Dragos..." he rasped.

"Why are you here? Where are you from?"

"C-can’t breathe..."

Azreal blinked—his aura calmed. The pressure lifted. Dragos collapsed, gulping in air like a dying man. Hulk finally approached, still coughing.

"You alright?" Azreal asked him.

"Fine... barely..."

Azreal snapped again. A glowing portal opened.

"Come," he said. "I’d like to speak more."

Dragos, still kneeling, sneered inwardly.

"Fool. Turning your back on an enemy... you’re dead."

His fingers morphed—dragon claws. In one burst of speed, he leapt.

"DIE!"

Azreal turned calmly. His hand lashed out—

CRACK!

A boot struck Dragos midair in the gut.

BAM.

Dragos coughed blood, crashing into the earth. Hulk chuckled as he picked him up like a sack of bones. The gate swallowed them whole.

---

Final Gate of Hell

Dragos, chained and restrained, was dragged into the throne room by two massive horned guards. Azreal lounged, fingers drumming his throne.

"You’re awake."

He waved. The guards bowed and vanished into the dark.

"Now then. Let’s try this again. Who are you?"

Dragos glared.

"I owe you no answer."

Azreal’s eyes narrowed.

Dragos laughed suddenly, face contorting—veins glowing fiery red.

"INFERNAL BREATH!"

He exhaled a wall of fire. It engulfed Azreal’s throne, burning everything in its path. Dragos laughed.

"I did it! You were just all talk!"

Then the flames split—around Azreal, like curtains parting for a king.

Azreal still sat there. Unscathed. Unbothered.

"You really test my patience... filthy dragon human."

Dragos froze. His knees buckled.

"Why... why is my body shaking?"

Azreal stood. The room seemed to tilt. Suddenly, Dragos dropped, kneeling against his will. Hulk tensed.

Then... Dragos’s eyes changed—slits like a dragon. Rings of flame spiraled around him as a deep voice echoed from his mouth.

"My... apologies... Lord Azreal."

Hulk’s jaw dropped.

"What are you playing at!?"

Azreal narrowed his gaze.

"You’re not Dragos... are you?"

"I am Vorthalax, my lord."

Azreal’s eyes widened.

"Vorthalax? Why are you inhabiting that body?!"

"The land of dragons was overrun... the infernals came like a tide. I was weak. I met this human and merged with him. He became my reincarnation."

Azreal was silent.

"I gave him my powers to save the race. Had I given them to another dragon, they would have used them for conquest, not protection."

Vorthalax knelt fully.

"If you feel I was wrong, kill him now."

Azreal approached slowly. Then placed a hand on his head.

"No. You made the right choice. You trusted in hope. That’s not weakness."

"My lord..."

"Is he now their king?"

"Yes. Please... do not forsake our kind. Our numbers rise, and we need land."

Azreal nodded slowly.

"So that’s why he tried to claim the Land of Ashes... seeking a home."

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well. You have my blessing."

The flame rings vanished. Dragos blinked—his voice returning.

"What... happened?"

Azreal smirked.

"So you’re the Dragon King. I’ve spoken with Vorthalax. I understand now."

Dragos stepped back, wary.

"Relax. I’m offering you a deal. You will become the Pillar of the Fifth Gate of Hell, ruling it as king of the dragons—working under me, shaping the gate as you see fit."

Dragos frowned.

"And if I refuse?"

"You won’t."

Dragos grinned.

"On one condition—I fight you every two years. Until I defeat you."

Hulk roared.

"You dare—!"

Azreal raised a hand.

"Let him speak."

"Fine," Azreal said. "If it drives you to grow stronger, it benefits Hell. I accept."

Dragos turned and walked away.

"Then it’s a deal."

---

Present Day — Land of Ashes

The land had changed. Crimson flags bearing the sigil of the Dragon King flew over black spires. Beneath the molten cliffs, dragonfolk roamed—children, warriors, elders—finally with a home.

At the summit stood Dragos, in gleaming obsidian armor, horns grown, eyes blazing with confidence. Before him stood Azreal, arms folded, cloak dancing in the wind.

Dragos knelt.

"You honored our agreement. You came."

Azreal nodded.

"A deal is a deal. Now then... what do you have for me today?"

Dragos smiled wickedly.

He opened his mouth—the air distorted, sucked toward him like a vortex. Winds howled violently, dust rising in spirals.

"Oh?" Azreal muttered.

With a sudden snap—BOOM!

Dragos expelled the gathered air, shaped as a wind dragon, hurling toward Azreal like a living missile.

To be continued....