Dantega:Volume 6 Chapter 5

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(PART 2)

Rosemary awakens to the sound of some kind of choir humming a dark hymn. She looks around the dark room through blurred vision and sees that she is surrounded by more than twenty people clad in deep red robes. She’s confused, and the flickering candles on the walls of this strange room give her a very sharp and pulsating headache.

“...W-What’s this?” she mutters.

She moves her hand so she can rub her eyes but finds that she physically can't do so, her hands and neck are shackled in a wooded cuff.

This sobers her dazed eyes quickly and she fully grasps just what is going on.

She’s leaning stomach down on a crate completely naked, with her knees on the ground; she feels the eyes of many staring deeply at her bare prostrated body. On the ground below her is a intricate and rather large pentagram seal made of white chalk.

Her breathing becomes shoddy as she realizes what's going on. Just a few minutes ago she was being escorted by Clement and guards when she suddenly blacked out, by now she knows that she was knocked unconscious. From the mere violence of that act alone, she understands that where she stands, already visually violated by the eyes of over twenty men, the violence is no where near its conclusion.

In fact, this is only the beginning.

“Ah, you’re awake Sister Rosemary.” Clement said as he walks from the darkness of the outer room and into the area of the pentagram seal.

“I knew it! This is no act of God! You are no different from John XXII! You pawn of the Devil!”

Clement smiles and leans to her level. “You are mistaken, this is God’s will Sister... And you will experience the blessing of the almighty and become the sacrifice necessary for the good of man.”

“Nonsense!” she shouts, her eyes revealing an intense wave of betrayal. “Are you all blind? Before you got me, you were planning to perform this ritual with the Son of God himself. How is it possible for you to believe that God told you to commit such heinous acts on his own child!?”

“God works in strange ways Sister Rosemary! That is the one common standard that we all accept in religion. If he speaks to me, who am I to doubt what he says? I am but merely a man, given the opportunity to grasp the glory of the Heavens! Wouldn’t I be foolish if I chose not to accept such generosity from our creator!?”

Clement pulls a dagger from the breast pocket of his Papal robe and holds it to the ceiling.

The chanting of the surrounding men grow louder as he says with a cockeyed expression, “God has spoken to me!” His voice cracks excitedly as he quotes, “‘May the cross of which our savior died be written in blood along the back of his mother! Only then will the innocence of the Holy Virgin be ripened for the likes of man to taste! When the fruit of her innocence is no longer, burn her tainted body and send her soul into my hands!’’

Rosemary’s complexion goes pale, his announcement signifies the order in which she will be sacrificed in this Satanic ritual. She is to be engraved by the cross of Christ, raped, and burned alive right after.

Tied up in the neck-cuff and prostrated naked on the crate, there will be no escaping this horrible fate. As a devout Catholic nun this is the worst form of death; all she can do is pray to the real God that the pain be minimal.

But she doesn’t even do that.

Of course she is scared, she’s so afraid that tears fall uncontrollably down her face, but her priorities are not with herself. The prayers she mumbles to herself are only for the safety and well-being of Damien, she pleads for his future. He must not be caught by these men and be put through the same Hell, he must fulfill his role and change the world. As long as he gets away from all this madness, she can cope with whatever pain comes next.

She truly believes that with all her might.


That determination is quickly put to the test when Clement digs his dagger about an inch deep into her back and mercilessly slides it down her body.

After spending a considerable amount of time walking aimlessly in deep thought, Damien finally arrives at the large double door of the Papal Suite with two guards standing at each end. The two guards spot him and quickly cross their spears in front of the door, keeping him from advancing any further.

“Move.” he demands coldly, his red eyes shining.

“We have orders from the Pope not to let anyone enter during the ceremony.” One guard says mechanically.

“Ceremony?” Damien asks under his breath.

He knows full well what they mean, he’s just a little surprised at how fast Clement was willing to begin the ritual.

“You two must know who I am. Are you really going to tell me you can’t grant me an audience with His Holiness?”

“We have orders from the Pope not to let anyone enter during the ceremony.” The other guard repeats his comrade’s mechanical words in the same fashion.

The guards won’t budge for anyone other than the Pope, so under no circumstance will they defy their master’s command and let Damien in.

Sensing that he’s getting nowhere, Damien tries to think of something else to say when he hears a sound that makes his heart stop.


Even the two guards flinched when that horrid scream reverberated through the palace.

Rosemary, Damien’s mother is screaming in agony and being tortured just a few feet away from him.

Something clicks in Damien’s mind and his head twitches to the side as his vision becomes tunneled in on the door.

He doesn’t say a word as he walks forward, and just like last time the guards move to block his path. Except this time, the arms holding the spears slide off their shoulders and land harmlessly on the ground. They both look at their severed limbs and back at each other as the sparks in their brain try to convey to them what has just happened.

But that point never comes.

Just like their arms, their heads slide from their necks and role onto the floor, just a second after, their lifeless bodies follow.

The young Damien pulls on the door handles but nothing happens, it won’t budge. Not only were the guards protecting it from outside, but it is strongly locked onto numerous hinges from within.

This large stone double door weighs tons, not even a dozen men could force their way in. Yet Damien pays no mind to the physics and puts his open palm between the crease of the two doors.


Not even a light shined when the creases on all sides of the door a jolted violently, sending a plume of dust into the hallway before the stone entrance falls forward and lands with a very loud thud.

Damien calmly walks atop the flattened door and gazes forward. The light from the outside hits the very large room and daylight reveals a horrific sight.

His eyes gleam brighter than ever before when they catch sight of his bleeding mother.

Her blood drips off of her sides and onto the pentagram below her. A cross has been carved deeply into her back by the blade of the man standing behind her with his red Papal robe lifted above his waist.

The shock on Clement’s face is more than evident as one hand holds his erection and the other holds the bloody dagger. The clergymen who were chanting the satanic tune are all shocked as well; they speak amongst themselves as to what to do next.

But the shock of these men are nothing in comparison to Rosemary, she’s showing a face of pure devastation as she watches her son walk straight-faced into the lion’s den. Everyone in this room have conspired to do atrocious things to him, once he’s captured there will be no one left to keep him safe.

“Damien no! Why!? I told you to run away!” she shouts, the tears fall more rapidly now than when she was being brutally sliced open by the dagger.

“Tch, I guess this saves us the trouble of capturing the brat. Someone retain him and give him to me! I’ll have him watch!” Clement orders.

A couple of the clergymen dressed in dark red robes run to grab him.

“Damien run!!”

Damien stays still, as calm as can be. He gently raises his arms so the palms of his hands point towards the two incoming men.

That’s all it takes, and the two men begin to grow bulbous and large. They start screaming as pain pops in every last corner of their bodies, the dark red robes rip off and their bright red faces are seen. Veins pop and blood spews from their eyes, ears, and noses. Their skin begins to rupture and split, sending even more blood flying in all directions. With the sound of boiling water echoing through the room, their bodies bubble violently and grow to a diameter ten feet around when...



Their bodies explode and their boiling hot blood steams into the room like the vapor of a teapot. Organs scatter about and seemingly disintegrate when they hit the surrounding walls; the other clergymen are hit with the red debris and are seared by the boiling blood.

They all scream and start scattering about in fear.

And they don’t get very far...

One by one the men explode in the same fashion, likely experiencing the most unimaginable pain before they pop like water balloons. Each clergymen makes a putrid sound of agony before their last moments, they all happen so close together it’s like it was one collective cry. A severe splashing noise akin to a wave makes its way around the Pope's large room as blood paints the walls. Expensive vases, statues, paintings, furniture, all become a canvas for dismembered body parts.

It only took a few seconds, and they’re gone. Damien’s slow and methodical footsteps along with the sound of dripping fluid from the roof and walls are the only sounds left once the screams of the clergymen are no more.

After seeing such a thing, Clement is obviously terrified. He has no way to rationally comprehend what has just bulldozed his senses, all he can do is instinctively take weary steps away from the approaching child.

“S-Stay away!” he shouts as he takes the rosary from his neck and holds it in front of him like it is his last line of defense.

Damien doesn’t slow down at all, he continues his walk until he reaches the shocked Rosemary and blows the neck-cuff to pieces with a touch of his hand. She slides off of the crate but lands in Damien’s arms before she hits the ground. He then gently lays her on her side so the wound in her back doesn’t cause her anymore pain.

“Did he soil you..?” he asks.

Rosemary shakily nods her head from side to side, words escaping her dried throat would be impossible.

“Good, looks like I made it in enough time to save your innocence... I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from suffering.”

Damien stands tall and looks to the Pope, who’s legs are still shaking uncontrollably. He continues his walk towards him and says, “Let me ask you something... Do you think the Son of God can become angry at the foolishness of humans?”

“I said stay back!” Clement yells. He can feel Damien’s presence beginning to add more and more weight into his legs, barring him from moving.

“If I am the Son of God, can I really hold so much hate for you? As the representative for all that is supposed to be good in man, is it fair that I hold such disdain for you? If I was the Son of God, would I kill someone over such feelings? Would I do this?”

Damien spreads his arms and the chalk of the pentagram below his feet begins to rise as though it was ferrite powder floating towards a magnetic source. The fine powder floats as the symbols of the pentagram mesh together and form a fine stream.

“For touching my mother, if I was the Son of God... Would I use the seal of the Devil to do this?”

The stream of white chalk screams forward and crashes into Clement’s mouth. He gags profusely as the fine substance dries out his insides. The chalk makes its way through his body and slides down his arms until it starts collecting in his fingertips.

The area around his fingertips expands until they are the size of tennis balls, then the deformation of his hands follow, growing to an unsustainable size.


Both of his hands explode.


The chalk exits out of his two bloody nubs and swirls around him as Clement flails his arms in pain, his boiling blood flies all over, adding even more red to the already soaked room.

He falls on his back and writhes as he continues to scream.

As if his pain means nothing, Damien’s eyes continue to glow as he says, “For gazing upon the naked body of my mother... Would the Son of God punish you in this fashion?”

The swirling chalk, now red, forms into a thin stream and shoots into Clement’s wide open eyes. His eyeballs expand to baseball sized spheres and explode outward.

Even after this, his pain doesn't stop; he receives no break from the terror of losing his limbs.

Damien continues his assault.

“For attempting to defile my mother’s body... Would the Son of God take away your pride like this?”

The chalk again makes its way through Clement’s body and comes to a stop in his groin area. It then expands, and along with it, Clement’s reproductive organs. The area under his robe below his waste pulsates and grows until it reaches a point where it is easily the size of a large boulder. His upper body simply hangs off the large growth as he screams in a high pitched voice.


His groin explodes and what seems to be gallons of blood flood out from under his robe and slides across the ground. The searing hot blood boils his legs until he’s overcome with such pain his nerves cease to function and he’s paralyzed. No matter though, by that point he was already dead. Pope Clement VI likely suffered the worst death a man could experience, Damien made sure he felt every last bit of that.

Damien stares upon the wretched sight of the Pope and carries no remorse in his eyes; he sighs and turns back to the only person left alive in this room.

Rosemary is stuck in somewhat of a incoherent state, she’s just witnessed her son massacre over twenty high ranking members of her church. She’s lucky she hasn’t gone into traumatic shock from the wound in her back well as on the sight of this ghastly scene.

Damien walks to her and holds her up in his arms; she’s too weak to stand so he’s pretty much carrying her dead weight.

“Mother, I need to tell you something... It’s going be hard on you”

“W-What is it?” she asks timidly, the shine in her eyes dimming from the loss of blood.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

After seeing what he’s just done first hand, it’s likely that she figured that out a while ago.

“Then who... What are you?”

Damien takes a deep breath and very plainly answers,

“I am the Son of Satan.”

Rosemary’s face grows extra pale when those cold words enter her ears. Having Damien admit that so easily is like spending your whole life with your parents only to have them tell you that you were adopted. It’s a heart-wrenching truth that she has no choice but to believe. If there’s one attribute of Damien’s that she knows for sure, its that he isn’t a liar, seeing what he’s capable of only adds to the proof.

Tears start to fall from her face as the pain of his words hurt more than the wound on her back. Damien gently wipes them away with his fingertips, which makes them flow even more. How can he be so gentle? How can he show such compassion even though his father is God’s worst enemy?

“Do you still love me?” Damien asks, his hand still wiping Rosemary’s tears.

Even though such rough thoughts are rolling through her head at the moment, she throws those aside and firmly answers, “I told you that no matter what happens, I’ll always love you. You’re ‘my’ baby, whoever your father is doesn’t change that fact.”

Damien shows a rare smile, one filled with happiness upon hearing such kindhearted words; he can truly see the contrast between his father and mother.

He lifts her into his arms and starts walking through the Papal room.

“What will you do now? With all of this...” Rosemary asks as her eyes scour the blood stained room, “Since you’re not God’s son, what will you do next?”

Damien continues walking until he reaches a large glass door, it opens by itself and the two go outside to a balcony. This balcony is normally used for the Pope’s greetings to the public and Sunday morning scripture reading, so the area below is an amphitheater of sorts surrounded by shops and other buildings. The sun shines brightly down on the beautiful city of Avignon in such grace, its as if the bloody mess inside the palace walls had never happened.

The people below them simply go about their daily business, having no clue about the truth of the holy men they put their trust in, and how their worst nightmares will soon come to pass.

He leans her against the stone railing of the balcony and looks her in the eyes when he says, “I’m going to change this wretched world... Not for the sake of my father, not for the sake of God, but for my own desires. I’m going to create a new beginning for not only Earth, but for Heaven, and even Hell. I’m going to change it all.”


“But I can’t do that without your help. It might take an eternity for me to fulfill the world’s uplifting, but I fully intend to come for you when it is all over. Until then, you must go to a place where the hands of all that surround me can’t reach you. You must go to a place where even I can no longer reach you.”

“Damien... I---“

“Just answer one last question for me.”

Rosmary stays silent and gives him her full attention.

“Do you still believe that I can change the world?”

She then reveals a smile brighter than the morning sun when she confidently answers,

“Of course I do.”

He puts his open palm on the center of her chest and says, “Then you ought to be going now.”


Damien leans in to her ear and whispers something that makes the color of her face return; she smiles contently as she stares up at the blue sky.

She holds the hand of Damien as she shuts her eyes and says one last thing, “I’m so glad... I was able to have you as my son.”

Immediately after, her hands grow limp and fall lifelessly to the ground, her head slumps to the side and her body seemingly collapses over itself.

Damien had stopped Rosemary’s heart.

He holds her lifeless body in his arms and carries no expression, he simply gazes upon the happy looking face of his dead mother. What he had told her made her accept her fate and die happily, she was able to move on easily just because her son whispered three simple words in her ear.

“Very good my fair child!” Satan’s voice rings from within the blood soaked Papal room. “You are now complete. With the death of your mother at your own hands, there are no longer any limits to what you can accomplish.”

Damien lifts Rosemary into his arms once again and walks back into the room. He had brought his mother out to the balcony just so he could save her from dying in such an ugly place. If he was going to kill her, he wanted to make sure that she died as peacefully as possible.

“No... What you mean is that there are no longer any limits to what ‘you’ can accomplish. You’ve succeeded in implanted your seed in the realm of man, all that’s left is to see what kind of fruit it bears for you.”

“I’m happy that you grew up to be such a sharp boy. So I don’t need to explain what I want you to do now right?” Satan asked humorously.

To which Damien firmly answers, “You need souls in order to raise your army correct? Well... Leave that to me.”

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