His mind wandered in many different directions. Even possessing the intellect of a God, his plans were so complicated and precise that his attention was drawn in an infinite number of directions. It was due to these various thoughts that he barely sensed the presence of the Abhorrant before he began scaling the hillside towards Malachive. This momentarily lapse in awareness caused him great irritation, for he knew even as in control as he was, the Abhorrant were nicknamed the Godslayers for a reason.

"What is it, Deathmeer?"

"I merely await you orders, Malachive. The kender city has been lain to waste for months now and we have progressed no further. We hunger for more blood and will satiate our thirst one way or another."

"You will act when I command it, Deathmeer, and not a moment before. There are pieces to this plan, beyond your comprehension, that must be put into motion before we can proceed further. You will continue to hold."

The Abhorrant sneered and turned to leave, glancing back at Malachive as he disappeared into the night.

The Dark Son watched him go, further annoyed at this most recent challenge. Deathmeer was becoming more and more aggressive.

Suddenly a pillar of flame erupted from the ground mere yards away from Malachive, subsiding as quickly as it came to reveal the form of a massive, hulking minotaur.

Malachive seemed undisturbed as he looked on. "To what do I owe this honor, Mencius?"

"Blessings, Dark Son. Your Father sends his greetings," he growled out roughly.

"Indeed. Tell him to send something I can make use of."

Mencius snorted and shifted about impatiently. "It is I who brings you something you can make great use of, Malachive. I have watched your interaction with the Godslayer ever since you brought them back into this world. You are not as safe around them as you think and with your attention as scattered as the populace of Balifore, you are vulnerable on top of being mortal. You cannot lead your armies and protect yourself at the same time. You know this."

Malachive was careful to response, keeping his eyes locked on the God of Rage.

"I am the Son of Necrucifer, Mencius. I can do anything. I have the infinite power of the universe at my disposal and nothing in this world or the next can cause me any harm."

Mencius reached behind his back and unstrapped his gigantic war axe, slamming it deep into the ground inches away from Malachive.

"Dammit, Malachive, you are still a boy in my eyes. You may be the Son of Necrucifer but you have not been around as long as I. I survived the first war between the Abhorrants and the Gods and you need not open a history book to know there were more Gods before the war began than after! They all possessed the same powers as you and they still fell before the onslaught of these creatures. What kept the remaining eighteen of us alive was strength and the knowledge that we could be beaten unless we prepared ourselves."

Malachive's eyes narrowed. "Then why are you here, Lord of Rage."

"Because I come to prepare YOU, Malachive. You were borne without the consent of the other Gods and if you die, the dark pantheon's advantage dies with you. Necrucifer and Drakkara cannot create anything like you again. You are the future of darkness and I have come to insure my place in that future."

"You are in need of a guardian and a General. Someone who can keep the Abhorrants in check, someone who can lead your armies with cold and calculating precision, and someone who possesses the rage and power to wreak havoc upon those who would stand against you."

"Who could I possibly trust that would provide all that you say? Who possesses such abilities?"

Mencius simply smiled and glanced towards the heavens. Thunder clouds were rolling in and lightning could be seen in the distance.

Grakaris scampered through the bowls of Hell with speed and agility. Past the burning flames, the screaming souls and the frozen wasteland that made up much of Hell's infrastructure. Further down he traveled, past the bloody carnage, the ferocious deziens, and the tempted succubae. Grakaris feared his ultimate destination, a rarely frequented pit of Hell buried particularly deep and isolated.

He finally reached the rickety rope bridge that led across a pool of lava and fire to a single obsidian-constructed cube. Inside was Hell's most recent addition and feared monster. Grakaris quickly closed the distance between the bridge and the cube's entrance. Pushing open the large door, he crept inside cautiously and gulped before he spoke. The room was totally dark. "The... The Lord calls for you immediately. You are needed to serve once more."

Mantaroth's red eyes burned through the darkness like a scythe.