Me (Azazel), Belphegor and Asmodeus, the scene from my life

An illustration for my series of books "Smoldering Hell" https://author.today/work/series/11980 to the sixth book ("Smoldering Hell 6: A Burning Paradise. Girl with red bows") author.today/work/111419

Me, Asmodeus and Belphegor, a scene from life; one of the many bedroom behind one of the doors in the corridors of Belphegor's Hall («Moulin Noir» the fornication ), France, Paris, modern years.

I've had a lot of different adventures... yes, of course, I always have to be careful, especially because I promised this to Semiaza. However, sometimes my self-confidence and carelessness lead me into more problems: this is some kind of stupid habit of underestimating the enemy and perceiving reality as if "nothing terrible is happening." Like it's all... a game? Oh yes, I am the notorious actor of a hundred faces, and my life is truly a theater stage; and sometimes curiosity gets the better of me, however. Just like the responsibility for other destinies – as if they couldn't manage without me!.. That's why I went with the others to the hall of the Red-Eyed, although I knew and remembered perfectly well that he, Belphegor, was also one of those who have been hunting me forever. However, this is more fun for him in my address: he is a "collector". I'm not the only one he's chasing for fun.

Although, I remember, near his Palace you are already getting weak, even without going inside. That is, we will certainly be weaker on someone else's territory, like a guest in my palace, like me, who came as a guest to someone else's Palace. And, somehow hesitating and thinking, I could not leave as a result.

What should I say about Belphegor?.. Yes, he is one of those whom I mean Strong. Of those who are in my eyes an unattainable height, the embodiment of Power, Strength and Masculinity. An imposing, businesslike, stately, self-confident master of his own life - that's what Belphegor is like. Our world, the world of demons, is not only an animal world, but also a man's world, in which the cult of Power reigns - not as a kind of generally accepted law, but as the understanding of the world sitting in our heads, yes, including mine. Therefore, weakness is shameful here, and strength is the original king; but this very strength also happens to be different – at least in my eyes. After all, I'm strong too! But I'm different. Everything is tied here... on the type of personality.

I know the story of Belphegor's life from the very heavens, therefore I know his pain. As a Chronicler who knows everything about everyone, I, like others, understand him. We are all crippled, twisted, not only by each other, but also, initially, by God. And, as one beautiful girl said, they are not loved. For some reason, I haven't stopped thinking about these words for days. We have all become monsters only because of God. Oh, if it wasn't for Yahweh, none of us would have gone mad. But we're all crazy. And the love of God is violence. And are we the monsters?.. ...

In my thoughts, I somehow forgot about Asmodeus. Well, what should I say about him… He has personal hardships. Venomous and indescribably evil. Among the human people, it is believed that Asmodeus is the patron saint of Lust. In fact, he is related to Fornication only because he works together with Belphegor, "moves" with him in life and heads their syndicate. In fact, his central sin is Anger. And Belphegor has Fornication.

An excerpt from the chronicle (in the books I wrote about myself in the third person), to which this illustration is given:

«Belphegor grinned, having heard such an explanation, put the bottle on the bedside table and walked slowly up to Azazel, examining him carefully; the archdemon stopped very close in the end, in such a way that the prisoner pressed his back against the wall even more, without looking up.
—Crazy Khalifa, — Belphegor grinned with mockery, observing the alertness of sad Azazel, who stood before him with a barely distinct smile and looked away somewhere, past. — I watched you in a different form among the desert dunes. Brisk, the infection! And now you're on my territory. You can't escape, sand cobra. Finish this masquerade, — and with these words the archdemon slapped the Khalifa on the shoulder with force, so that he shuddered under this clap, and at once his current caftan disappeared, his special appearance, and Azazel appeared before the archdemons grinning in his former attire, in a brown toga, that is, with a slanting collar, exposing skinny collarbones, but with long hair, no longer in the tail, falling over the shoulders shuddering.
(continued in the comments)