ACT I - IV
THE COURT OF BELPHEGOR

"Congratulations, Overlord, he's a boy," the nursemaid says and it is followed by more felicitations from the people around them.

"What is he?" There is no sign of frailty in her appearance as she easily sits up. No one will have guessed that she has given birth seconds ago if not for the trickle of sweat cascading from her face.

"A Drude, Ove-"

"Get it away from me," the woman cuts off. Her tone begins to resemble the icy lands in the Ring of Ignavia.

Disdain flashes in her golden irises. She cannot accept that her very own child is a Drude. She is from the proud ancient race of the Daemons. Her blood shall be stronger than those puny races. She gets up, her eyes squinting at the child who came out of her own womb.

"Get it away from me!" Her voice rings all over the room.

All servants scamper to their feet. The Overlord of the Court of Lucifer has always been known for her fiery temper. There is nothing they can do but wait for their own Overlord to come.

They proceed to the room but the nursemaid stops in her tracks. Her hands are trembling as she holds the young boy. A chilling sensation emanates from the young lord's skin. It is as if the deepest region of the glacial lands has penetrated his body.

The demons of Ignavia never fear the cold for they have been used by the freezing temperature of their homeland, but the quivering fingers of the servant have become frigid in just seconds. She cannot let go of the child nor she cannot move away from it.

"What happened?" the head maid asks.

"The young lord is too cold."

"You must be new. Don't fret. The Overlord must have used his power on the punishment grounds again. It tends to get colder when he does."

The head maid comes to get the baby and lays him on the soft sheets. Their young lord has not even been clothed after they are all taken aback by their Overlord Deria's attitude. She recalls how the Overlord shoves her own child to them, only to realize something.

'The young lord has never made a sound nor has he opened his eyes!'

"Hurry and get Overlord Aristos!" the head maid shouts in alarm as the child has not made a single movement even with the commotion.

The servants scurry and fetch their lord. There is only one place their lord stays and that is the punishing grounds for the sinners of sloth. The Overlord has attended his duties even on such an important day and has neglected the fact that his wife is giving birth.

After the notice of his child's upcoming death, Overlord Aristos rushes to the manor in no time. When he arrives, the servants quickly lead him to the spare room.

"What happened? Where is Deria?"

"She is resting, my lord," the head maid answers. "The young lord had not yet opened his eyes. He has steady breathing but no one dared to touch him in case they become frozen."

Overlord Aristos' eyes drift to the nursemaid's hands which have now become frozen solid. The power of ice is rare even among demons. Only the Archdemons of Belphegor are able to wield it.

He approaches the crib and sees his young son's state. His heart twitches from ache but he promptly dismisses his emotions because it is his fault. Deria despises Drudes who wreck nightmares in all realms and her son is the same. Worst of all, he is his son. He, who is loathed by Deria the most.

It seems like all his retribution has come because his child is now undergoing the trials of the chosen heirs. He has suffered the same punishment when he is an adolescent but his son has come much earlier. He glances at the wooden crib again before calling a servant.

"Evacuate the manor. Prevent servants from coming here unless it is necessary. Tell Lathos to restrict the corpses until I come back..." he enumerates his long list of orders one by one.

The servant nods and the door creaks close, leaving him all alone with a baby. He grabs a chair and watches the bluish complexion of his son which is far from the warmth of a newborn. The young boy appears even paler due to the midnight black hair they both share.

The child is still small but his son will undoubtedly inherit his features. It is truly a pity that his trial happened at his birth. Many wish to be an Archdemon, being the most supreme race, but only those who are chosen know that it is not a peaceful process. Several have the chance but not everyone can pass the ordeal. Worst, failure means death.

He cannot suppress the sigh leaving his mouth. There is nothing he can do but remain on his child's side and wait for his final breath.

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The Overlord, who is infamous for his diligence in work, has not left his son for a full month. The room they are occupying has already turned into a land of frost. No one is able to enter without having a single part of their body turn to ice.

As a person with the same power, only Overlord Aristos is able to stay and accompany his son. The young body is now entirely submerged in ice.

Among the divine punishments, the sin of Sloth is not the bloodiest nor the cruelest but it is the most painful. It takes exactly six months to complete and only numbness can be felt the whole time. The biting cold that is experienced by the people who have visited is a mere fraction of what is undergone by the child.

The cold will seep through the Candidate's body, penetrating the vessels and going to the heart, disabling the regular beating of the organ. It is the main reason a few triumphed over this trial. For his newborn son to endure half a year, Overlord Aristos won't dare to hope.

><><><><><><><

A shrill cry disrupts the solemnity of the whole place. Despite the weeping of the child, Overlord Aristos' mouth lifts on both ends. He has underestimated his own flesh and blood. His son has succeeded after months of waiting.

The whole manor that has completely become a place of perpetual winter melts at a fast pace along with the ice on the child's body. Seconds tick until only a patch of icicle lingers on the baby's neck.

The crystal of ice finally breaks apart and forms a snowflake with the Devil's symbol in the center. The color of blue has now become a dark dyed ink that will forever mark the child's body.

He takes the child to his arms, staring right through the depths of the black irises of his son. The Candidate of the Court of Belphegor has survived and will continue his legacy.

"Izael. I will give you the name Izael and you will be my glory."