Chapter 111: The Fallen Nephilim

Dionysus leered down at her from his lofty position in the air, taking a long swig of his wine before chuckling at her returned look. "We are only scratching the surface of this new development—some of you called me reckless—and look where we are after I blazed the way! I have more power than my father himself at this moment. So why not push how far we can go?"

Conner stopped beside her, arms crossed and voice utterly sober as he spoke to her, letting the lesser god hype up his audience. "I know you did a Challenge Rating 3 before, but can you do it again? You helped me survive that... What do you need?"

This man would fight her to the death soon, yet there was genuine concern in his eyes, and Rachel suspected it wasn’t entirely for his own sake. He seemed to have grown to respect her; she felt the same after his last battle. Conner was a true competitor.

A confident smirk lit Rachel’s lips as Dionysus held up a hand and snapped his fingers, bringing the next lucky crowd member to join the second-to-last challenge for her; a provocative-eyed woman with silky raven hair and black, occultic tattoos appeared beside them.

"I think I’ll be fine. My savior has arrived."

"My, aren’t you a charming little hare?" A silky chortle shook the fiendish woman’s chest as she appraised them, taking one hand off her obsidian leather handbag to pull up on her bright-red tube top. "And you come with a rather adorable bunny outfit. You two could get into all sorts of trouble together, I’m sure."

Nia took one look at her and practically psychically hit her on the head. "No! No! No! She is strife, drama, and stress incarnate, Major!"

Conner and the rest of the crowd went quiet to study the enticing Succubus of a woman, and Rachel suppressed a shiver at the phenomenal power the seductive creature radiated; she could probably give Moongmor a run for his money, but, given the rabbit’s personality, she would probably just wrap him around her finger, wind him up, and let him go.

No, I agree, she hissed as the woman turned her illuminated ruby irises to the lesser god with a respectful bow, spotting a beauty mark on the outside of her left eye. But all the misfortune I sense is firmly held in her fingers, and she is wrapping them around Dionysus’ throat.

"What a pleasure it is to have my small voice heard on such a grand display of power. I hadn’t dreamed I would have this chance. Your work, no doubt, Rachel," she added, devious narrowed eyes and curved maroon lips shifting to her.

"Small?" Dionysus guffawed, throwing up an image of a hellish plane, where a colossal luxurious palace floated, putting to shame an endless sea of castles and mansions; her home was practically the size of Texas as it zoomed out. "I would not say a Princess of Hell that rules a respectable piece of land in the 3rd Circle has a small voice, Yseress."

Gnarled branch-like wings sprouted out of her shoulder blades, and what looked to be solidified blood was fused in patches along their length, vein-like lights shining in randomized patterns through them. Slim horns grew out of either side of Yseress’ head, and her neck was entirely covered by a form-fitting black metal.

Rachel could feel something sinister behind Yseress’ enticing gaze that didn’t even try to hide the devil in them as she turned her small, slitted pupils to the man. Black flames, laced with crimson lightning, flickered around her frame occasionally as she moved to appraise the lesser god.

"Oh, don’t be modest, Dionysus." Her open-toe heels clicked with her suggestive walk while the silver cross on the zipper of her form-fitted dark jeans swayed. "And aren’t you looking fine today? I adored your work on Nike and would love to join one of your private gatherings. Am I asking too much?"

Dionysus rubbed his chin. "When they say Hell is trouble, they aren’t speaking about the devils or demons. Only a fallen half-angel, half-devil could understand the heaven in Hell. Nephilim mix the Divine and Infernal in such a beautiful way."

Yseress giggled as he showed the gluttonous feasts throughout her home as people hung in cages, unable to die in their starvation. "How are you faring after the 7th Circle was sealed off, cutting you away from your rulers? I hear Hell is on fire right now," he snickered.

A heart-turning sadness fell over her mature face. "It has been so very difficult with so much chaos in our authority structure. I am grateful for this reprieve and opportunity," she said in a way that would have made Rachel shoo her off because this fallen Nephilim really was trouble.

"We must roll these dice?" she asked, pointing at the box in front of Rachel, near where hers had appeared when she was brought to the stage. "Should we begin? I am screaming inside to see what fun we can have!"

Rachel wanted to double over with laughter at the hungry look Dionysus gave her, his vision sliding over her arms, where intricate skulls, crosses, and complex devilish symbols marked her supple skin. She was temptation’s fruit.

It was very clear to her that Yseress was not here for Conner, Dionysus, or her; this woman only cared about what she wanted, and her delicate fingers were wrapping tiny threads around the insane deity’s throat, piece by piece.

"Let us roll!" Dionysus roared, now back in his festive spirits, as the wine began to flow and grapes grew to satiate his guests’ hunger.

Rachel snatched hers up and tossed it first, making the crowd laugh as it stopped on 5.

Yseress’ black handbag swung as she continued her prance, a curious smile hiding her inner thoughts.

"Misfortune is a very fickle mistress, I have found, but I do not serve her as you do, so I can feel my two hearts flutter at such a roll. What devilish play do you have in store for me... Now, isn’t that remarkable?"