This World Is Under My Control

 "Worthless aberration!"

 In this world. There were a variety of creatures one would take pleasure in gutting down to the bone, and it included the majority classified under Demon, and Gods. The existence of humans, you may question? But, then one would like to ask themselves: What demon is greater than that which exists in the imagination of man?

 "Is it sleeping? The audacity!"

 We all steal, destroy, plunder. Conquer.

 It is primal, a law that we are programmed to obey right from the day we gained insight on our sentience. Some of them — hypocrites in their own deluded fantasies — try to dissuade from what existed before them: Heroes. Others, accept the reality and build their existence around it: Villains.

 All demons, but with their own twisted views on the reality.

 "Surround it, and prepare to attack! This may be a trap for all we know…"

 Then, they are those who are not classified so simply as a demon. Those who sit, manipulating it all from the shadows. Every pawn on the chest board, everything under their control — the power a demon would refer to as absolute omniscience. They were the Gods of this world, and everything in it, the rules and its followers, were manipulated on their whims.

 He for example, was a fragment: A material manifestation of one of these Gods. The demon that every God dissociated from, their other halves cast aside. The rules of this world, the desires and all the pain and misery: He was shackled by them. He was shackled by rules he himself created, and the suffering was held in his heart forever, over countless rebirths.

 "Sigh…"

 He opened his eyes calmly. The scene that played before him, he had witnessed it. For dozens, if not a hundred times or more already. They are just human scum, weak fools who think they have the power to decide their own destinies. Haha! He literally writes the script for their foolish lives… more or less, the other fragment of his being does actually.

 The blood red crown on his head gleamed in the sunlight as he tilted his head, raising his chin. It was so quiet, his deep ink black eyes scanning the gathering before him. He rested both arms on the armrest of his blood throne, the horns that gutted out of the sides quite intimidating. Soon, he rested his elbow and relaxed the side of his face on his palm.

 They were all quiet.

 Usually, this was the point where he dashes forth and kills them all. They were all waiting for that part to play out, but for once in all his past lives, he was tired. He had killed them so much that it had grown exhausting throughout his reincarnation. They were all just so weak and pathetic.

 The light cast his cast over the gathering before him, the massive blood red horns that grew out of the sides of his throne grew even more domineering, and the crystals made of blood gleamed in a demonically alluring light. He observed them, completely seeing through their walls — glancing into the depths of their soul, and peering into their fear.

 It empowered him.

 "Fools…"

 They had prepared for a siege — gathering light cannons, ballistas, and mangonels. They had not prepared for a mere scuffle, but a full fledged war. As they stood before him, in their hundreds, there was a sadness in his heart. He pitied for them, but their existences amounted to nothing, but a single pawn in the grand scheme he had planned out for generations.

 Then, the full picture unveiled behind him.

 There he sat, right outside the gates of a castle of which the spires reached the sky, towering on the world beneath it. As he sat on his throne, in the sun, right outside his castle, he rested his elbow on the armrest, and tilted his head to relax it on his palm. Then, his expression grew condescending.

 "Ha…"

 There was a soft voice, and it echoed across the suddenly quite battlefield. The sound entranced them with its sonorous beauty, and it kept them on edge. They all drew out their blades, pointing it at the disdainful Rhys, and then they noticed where the sound had emanated from — their faces falling.

 She had her arms wrapped around his throne, her ink black eyes lifeless and cold. She stared at all the men that had come to make their lives miserable, her body hidden behind Rhys's throne. The second she freed her arms, then stepped out lifelessly to face the gathering, their faces grew colder.

 "Why are you all looking so scared?"

 She laughed, but it was devoid of any emotion. Her skin was as pale as a sheet of paper, and she wore a skimpy red dress that barely covered her frame. Although under circumstances like these, the last thought in a man's mind was sexual desire. They could care less, even if she stood stark naked in front of them. Especially when they all understood what she was capable of.

 "I want you to kill them all, Evelyn." Rhys did not bother with anything else. He was tired enough with everything else as it stood now, and just wanted to calm himself for a second. They had created quite a commotion earlier, and it had disturbed him greatly. He shook his head and relaxed his body,

 "It is an order sister, make sure to not hold anything back."

 In an instant, her lifeless expression twisted into madness. There was the sound of screeching as she stood before the army, it was loud and revolting, and it echoed fiercely. The sound shattered the serenity of the battlefield, not pleasant in the slightest to the hearing. Then, it all quietened down,

 "So that is why they all smelled so terrified."

 Her expression twisted even further — so unnatural, it would be frightening for any human to accomplish, and then her lips parted into a bizarre grin. Suddenly a plethora of runic circles drawn around her, forming a beautiful array around her form. She stood calmly, lifting her hands as a cold laughter escaped her mouth, "«Blood Dogma…"

 Not waiting for her to finish her incantation, they decided that it would be best they struck while she was occupied. They all charged forward with their weapons drawn, their eyes burning in the hot flames of determination. No one wanted to die, but in a situation like this, most understood that they had wandered into the jaws of death already, and the only way forward was to struggle.

 "— Slave of Slaughter!"

 There was loud cry… and it only grew louder. Thousands of men moaning in anguish, thousands of voices screaming in misery — it was as if the gates of hell was rent asunder, the demons grasping for the light. Fear, Anguish and Lamentations, as the cries continued, darkness consumed the light, a door formed behind Evelyn, and it slowly began to part.

 "Ha-ha!" Evelyn grabbed her face, but the light that shone in her eyes was difficult to conceal. All it revealed was pure cruelty and wickedness, the desire of a thousand demons manifest. The door to the realm beyond flung open, and energies from within burst forth to consume all that stood before it as the creature behind the door stepped forth calmly.

 It had the upper body of a humanoid, but the lower body of a monster. It was massive, its height towering over dozens of metres high. Its claws were huge, gleaming in a fierce light, and the wings it had behind its back spread out to shroud the sky. The upper body of a human that acted as the head of this monstrous body, had a carbon copy of Evelyn's face — cruel, cold and lifeless.

 "I welcome you all, to my massacre." Evelyn stood, the manifestation of her demonic desires she summoned standing behind her. As the men charged forward, she scoffed, levitating as she hovered towards the monster behind her. She wrapped her arms around its upper body, and the second she came in contact, the expression of the monster twisted to match hers.

 It roared madly, then charged into the approaching force. Its massive size trampled upon all the men, and they were thrown in a confusion almost instantly. Shells were hurled at its massive frame, but even as they burst upon its frame, not a single damage was dealt to it. In an instant, many were running helter-skelter, unable to face the monster that ravaged them.

 Blood rained down like a flood as the monster unleashed its massive claws on the escaping men, its eyes burning in a ferocious light. Many continued to fall down helplessly to the destructive power it brought down upon them, dying like helpless flock to slaughter. Soon, the army was thinned down to a dwindling shadow of its past amount, the majority smashed to a pulp.

 "So boring…" Rhys watched Evelyn, his gaze distant as he watched them getting slaughter. Every reincarnation, he was forced to watch these humans die, over and over again. It was invigorating for the first few times, then it grew painful, then sad, and now it was borderline boring. He was tired. He wanted peace, but this is the life he put himself into: an endless loop of suffering.

 He wanted to break this chain — with a cruel checkmate. That is the only way he could earn the peace he always desired, either in a life of immortality sleeping away the generations or in death, in the embrace of the darkness and coldness. This was his ultimate goal, over a hundred and eighteen lives in pain and misery: A checkmate.