[BL] I Didn't Sign Up For This-Chapter 105: In Which Azryth Discovers Irony

The infernal realm looked worse than Azryth had expected.

It wasn’t destroyed or burning, it was just... neglected. Five hundred years of Veyrith’s rule had left visible marks on infrastructure that should have been maintained, wards that should have been reinforced, anchor points that should have been stabilized.

He stood in what used to be the administrative wing of the palace, looking at reports demons had compiled over the past day. Population counts, territorial disputes, resource allocation failures, structural damage to dimensional barriers.

Veyrith had let it all fall apart while focusing on his obsession with forcing the realms to merge.

"Lord Azryth," one of the senior demons said, approaching with the kind of cautious deference that suggested he was still waiting to see if Azryth would execute him for serving Veyrith. "The northern territories are reporting instability in the barrier anchors, they’ve been degrading for decades."

"How many decades?"

"Approximately three hundred years, my lord."

Three hundred years. Veyrith had been ignoring basic maintenance for three centuries.

"Send repair teams," Azryth said. "Pull from the palace guard if necessary, those barriers keep the realm stable."

"Yes, my lord."

The demon retreated, relief visible in his posture.

Through the binding, Azryth felt Riven’s presence. Not active conversation, Riven was focused on something else, but there, a constant awareness that settled something in him he hadn’t realized was restless.

The bond hummed quietly in the background as Azryth returned to the reports.

Hours passed in administrative tedium. Approving repairs, reassigning resources, meeting with territorial lords who needed reassurance that he wasn’t going to purge everyone who’d served Veyrith.

It was late evening by infernal realm standards when he finally had time to address the other matter.

The elders.

Five demons who’d ruled the infernal realm before him, who’d sealed him in an amulet for five hundred years because they’d decided he was too dangerous to leave free.

They should have appeared by now, should have demanded explanations, asserted authority, challenged his right to reclaim the throne without their approval.

Their absence was conspicuous. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Azryth made his way through the palace to the elder chambers, spaces reserved for the council that had governed before demon lords consolidated power.

The doors were sealed.

Not locked... Sealed. Ward work he recognized immediately because he’d spent five hundred years trapped by similar magic.

Someone had sealed the elder chambers from the outside.

He pressed his hand to the door, felt the ward structure beneath his palm. Sophisticated work, layered protections, designed to contain rather than protect.

This was a prison.

Azryth broke through the first three layers easily, his power significantly greater than whoever had set these wards. The fourth layer resisted, suggesting whoever had done this knew what they were doing.

The fifth layer cracked under sustained pressure.

The door opened.

The elder chambers were dark, infernal fire extinguished, the kind of darkness that suggested no one had been here in a very long time.

Azryth manifested light, amber fire casting shadows across familiar space.

Five pedestals stood in the center of the room, arranged in a circle.

Five amulets sat on those pedestals.

Each one pulsing with faint energy that he recognized immediately because he’d been trapped in one for five centuries.

The elders were sealed.

All of them. Trapped in amulets exactly the way they’d trapped him, contained and helpless and completely at the mercy of whoever held their anchors.

For a long moment, Azryth just stared.

Then something that might have been satisfaction settled in his chest. Cold and sharp and deeply gratifying.

They’d sealed him to protect the realm from what they considered his dangerous ideals.

And Veyrith had sealed them to remove any opposition to his plans.

The irony was almost perfect.

He picked up the nearest amulet, felt the consciousness inside it. Alive, aware, trapped. The elder could sense him holding their prison, could feel his presence after five hundred years.

Could feel him deciding what to do with them.

Azryth set the amulet back down on the pedestal with deliberate care.

Moved to the next one, same structure, same magic, same helpless awareness inside.

All five elders, sealed by his brother, left here while Veyrith tore reality apart trying to merge the realms.

Through the binding, he felt Riven’s attention shift toward him.

*Found something,* Azryth sent.

*Yeah? What kind of something?*

*The elders who sealed me.*

A pause. Then: *Are they causing problems already?*

*No. They’re sealed.*

Silence through the binding for a beat.

*Wait,* Riven said slowly. *Wait. They’re SEALED? Like, the same way they sealed you?*

*Exactly the same way.*

*Veyrith did that?*

*Apparently he didn’t appreciate opposition to his plans.*

Riven’s reaction came through the binding like a burst of startled laughter. *Oh that’s beautiful. That’s...okay, I know we just saved reality and everything, but that’s actually hilarious. The people who trapped you for five hundred years are trapped themselves.*

*The poetic justice is noteworthy,* Azryth agreed, and felt his own dark amusement mixing with Riven’s through the connection.

*Please tell me you’re leaving them there.*

*I haven’t decided yet.*

*Azryth.* Riven’s voice through the binding carried the weight of someone about to make a very obvious point. *They sealed you for five centuries because you wanted to make changes. Left you trapped while the realm fell apart. Now they get to experience exactly what they did to you. This is karma in its purest form.*

*It is,* Azryth said.

*So?*

Azryth looked at the five amulets one more time, at the elders who’d ruled through tradition and fear rather than vision.

*They stay,* he sent back.

*Good.* Riven’s satisfaction rippled through the binding, fierce and approving.

Azryth turned and walked out of the chamber, sealing the door behind him with wards of his own. Stronger than what Veyrith had used, layered with protections that would hold for centuries if he let them.

The elders could stay exactly where they were.

He had a realm to stabilize, a throne to claim properly, and a formal rite to perform without their interference.

***

The next matter required investigation.

Sara.

His former... he wasn’t sure what to call her, partner felt too clinical, lover felt too intimate for what they’d actually been. The demon he’d trusted who’d helped the elders seal him.

She should have been here too. Should have been somewhere in the palace, either celebrating Veyrith’s death or hiding from Azryth’s return.

Her absence suggested something else had happened.

He found evidence in her former chambers.

The rooms were untouched, preserved exactly as she’d left them centuries ago. Personal belongings still arranged on surfaces, books on shelves, everything suggesting she’d expected to return.

She never had.

Azryth found the report in the administrative archives, filed under "terminated threats to throne stability."

Veyrith had killed her.

Not immediately after sealing Azryth. The report was dated approximately two hundred years into Veyrith’s reign. Sara had apparently questioned some decision Veyrith had made, suggested alternative approaches, reminded him of protocols the elders had established.

Veyrith had considered that insubordination and dealt with it accordingly.

The report was clinical, detached, noting her termination the same way it might note replacing defective equipment.

Azryth stared at the document for a long moment.

Sara had betrayed him, had helped seal him away for five hundred years, had chosen tradition and safety over the changes he’d wanted to make.

And Veyrith had killed her for the same qualities that had made her betray Azryth...her adherence to protocol, her belief in established order, her unwillingness to embrace chaos.

The irony would have been amusing if he’d felt anything about it at all.

He felt... nothing.

Not satisfaction at her death, not grief for what they’d been, just a hollow acknowledgment that the person he’d once trusted was gone, killed by his brother for being exactly what she’d always been.

Through the binding, Riven’s attention focused on him again.

*You okay?*

*Sara’s dead. Veyrith killed her two hundred years ago.*

*What?* Riven’s voice carried genuine surprise. *Sara as in your ex who helped seal you?*

*Yes.*

*How?*

*She questioned one of his decisions, suggested following established protocols. He considered it insubordination.*

Then: *Okay, seriously, what is happening today? First the elders are sealed the exact same way they sealed you, now the woman who betrayed you got killed by the guy who convinced her to betray you, FOR THE SAME REASON SHE BETRAYED YOU. I thought karma was dead!*

Something almost like a laugh moved through Azryth. *The universe does seem to have a sense of humor today.*

*Are you okay though? With her being dead?*

*I don’t feel anything about it,* Azryth sent back honestly. *She made her choice centuries ago, what happened after is just a consequence.*

*Fair,* Riven said, then added: *I’d make a popcorn joke but honestly today’s been weird enough without me being an ass about your ex.*

Azryth felt genuine warmth ripple through the binding. *I appreciate the restraint.*

*Don’t get used to it.*

***

The formal rite required preparation.

Normally, the elders would perform it. Would acknowledge the demon lord’s right to rule, would channel realm power through ancient protocols, would bind the throne to its rightful occupant.

Without them, Azryth needed an alternative.

He spent three days researching, consulting archives, speaking with demons who remembered rites from before the elders’ time.

Found a solution in texts so old they predated the council entirely.

The throne itself could recognize its lord. Infernal realm power could be claimed through direct connection rather than mediated through a council that had granted themselves authority they’d never actually possessed.

It required more power, more risk, but it would work.

And it would give Azryth back what he’d lost when the elders sealed him.

Not all of it. The Trial of Sacrifice had been permanent—the quarter of his throne-right he’d given to pass the arbiters’ test was gone forever.

But he’d been a very strong demon lord before the sealing.

Even with a quarter of his original power lost to the sacrifice, three-quarters of what he’d once wielded was still more than most demons would ever achieve.

Azryth prepared the ritual in the throne room, alone, at midnight when the realm’s power ran strongest.

Drew the necessary symbols in infernal fire across obsidian floors.

Stood in the center of the circle and reached for the throne.

The realm responded immediately.

Power flooded through him, recognizing what he was, what he’d always been. The throne accepted him without hesitation, no council needed, no elders required to grant permission.

He was a demon lord.

The power settled into place, filling spaces that had been empty since he was sealed five hundred years ago. Not complete, never complete again, but substantial. Enough to rule, to protect, to enforce his will across the realm.

Enough to make sure no one ever sealed him again.

Riven felt the surge of power immediately.

*What was that?*

*Formal rite,* Azryth sent back. *I’m officially a demon lord now.*

*Really? You got your powers back?* Riven’s surprise rippled through the connection. *Like, your actual original powers?*

*Three-quarters of them. The quarter I sacrificed in Limbo is gone permanently, but what’s left is still significant.*

Azryth felt Riven’s satisfaction surge through the binding, fierce and genuine. *That’s...I’m glad. I’m really glad.*

Azryth stood in the throne room, power humming through him, the realm stable beneath his control.

And realized he didn’t want to stay here.