Author's Note:...So a month later, I wrote the, um, less bloody version. Like the first one, I wrote it without any set idea of what was going to happen, and I was interested to see how differently it panned out. When you're done reading, I'd really like to know which (if either) you think is the more accurate portrayal (or even which you simply liked better).

Delusions of Grandeur

Micky was busy in his living room, arranging anti-aircraft guns picturesquely across his mantle, when there was a blazing tide of furious Mana behind him, and Zetta appeared in the middle of his oriental carpet.

Valvoga whirled. "Zetta!" Micky exclaimed. "Whuh -What are you doing here?" He stared down at the shorter Overlord, his pale face and tense features. Zetta's pupiless white eyes were scorching.

"HEH HEH," Dryzen interpreted. "HE BURNED THE CARPET. HE'S HERE TO CHALLENGE US! BRING IT ON!"

"Uh...I don't know," Micky commented. "He looks kind of...upset."

"Oooo, poor Zetta," Ophelia sarcastically cooed. "Was someone mean to you?"

Zetta's left eye twitched. Then he wheeled and blasted away Micky's porcelain plate collection with a single wave of raw Mana. "Shut up!"

Ophelia arched her eyebrows. "In our Netherworld, you're asking us to shut up?" Her long brown hair began to swirl faster.

Zetta pivoted in the Star Overlord's direction. Now his heavy black sword was out. "Listen up, I've had more than enough from egotistical bitches like you!"

"Uh-" Micky's eyes darted from side to side, hoping to find the writing on the wall. Any wall. Any writing, for that matter. Heck, if the wall just caved in on Zetta right now, that'd be good. "Why...are you here, Zetta?"

"No reason!" Zetta shouted and began to pace, sparks striking off his heels and further singing the carpet.

"Um," Micky went on, tapping his fingertips together, "I don't really -I mean, you should've called -I've got stuff to, er-"

"GET LOST," Dryzen suggested.

"Right!" Zetta shouted back. "Get lost! A great idea! Why doesn't everyone just get lost!"

Dryzen looked up at Ophelia. Ophelia looked up at Micky. Micky looked hopelessly down at both of them.

Ophelia frowned. "Listen Zetta, our palace isn't your personal shooting range. If you have a question, just ask. If not, stand still so we can kill you faster."

Zetta whirled back on the three (?) of them. "Fine," he seethed, his teeth bared. "Fine. I have a question. Am I an Overlord?"

Ophelia snorted delicately through her little blue nose. "Of a sort."

"Okay. What's an Overlord supposed to do?"

"MURDER! LOOT! WREAK ABSOLUTE MAYHEM!"

"Right!" Zetta shouted. "That's exactly what an Overlord's supposed to do! So why can't everyone understand that?"

"Whuh?" Micky drew back a bit. "Who couldn't understand that?"

Zetta took a deep breath to shout something else, then abruptly cut it off. After a moment, he turned away from Valvoga and used his sword to lop off the top of a large decorative mushroom.

Ophelia's smile curved deeply. "Oh. This must be about Salome."

They could see Zetta's shoulder blades tense through his thin leather jacket. "What?" There was a long pause. "What does Salome have to do with anything?"

Micky's eyes widened. "Uh-"

Zetta growled. "She's just a worthless human."

"Hm hm hm," Ophelia chuckled. "She is your apprentice."

"APPRENTICE?" Dryzen repeated. "SHE'S YOUR SALLY-SNOOGLE-POO!"

"Tell us, Zetta," Ophelia went on, "what did she do?"

Zetta was still a little speechless from the Sally-Snoogle-Poo. (Never -never -he had never called Salome Sally-Snoogle-Poo, not once, not even when he was drunk. He hoped.) "What the hell?" he demanded. "Salome has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh?" Ophelia queried.

"She's nothing but my apprentice -a worthless human -an ungrateful little bitch who's off living in her own little Cupid-tinged dream-world because she wouldn't recognize reality if it was her long-lost twin and like hell she's going to survive on her own it's a demon's world out there and I've been merciful but she's too fixated on her damn feelings and she's not going to last a second because-"

"What?" Micky's eyes were really wide. "You broke up with Salome?"

Zetta engulfed the headless mushroom in a wave of fire. "There's nothing to break up! She was just my apprentice!"

Ophelia laughed. "Yeah right. Is that why you kept her with you for nine whole centuries?"

Micky also laughed, a little shakily. "C'mon, Zetta, we all know."

Zetta called the wave of fire back into his hand. Slowly, he turned to face Valvoga. "You don't know anything."

"Why Zetta..." Ophelia pouted. "Did she hurt your feelings?"

"SHUT UP!"

"Aw...a weak little human hurt poor Zetta... and she was only his apprentice too. Ooo, how tragic!"

"Ophelia-" Micky said quickly, "Maybe you shouldn't taunt him like thi-"

BOOM.

When the three Overlords that comprised Valvoga came to a halt, they were sixty miles clear across the cosmos. There's no friction in space, so they only stopped because they hit a small asteroid. Dryzen spent a few moments spitting out chunks of space rock.

"That," huffed Ophelia, "is no way to treat people in their own Netherworld."

Zetta didn't linger in Micky's pad. He shot out into the universe, looking for a large planet to annihilate, maybe a supernova or two. After a moment, he saw that he wasn't alone. A glowing white sphere was shooting swiftly through the darkness.

Zetta tensed, his face growing deathly grim. If this were she, he was going to-

But no, as the sphere approached him, it burst apart, there was a haze of deep red and purple Mana, and Demon Overlord Seedle appeared. "Hmph. What's wrong with you?"

Emotions are weaknesses, and Zetta struggled to appear unruffled in front of a rival Overlord. "Nothing. Just...enjoying the scenery."

"Hah!" the one-eyed samurai laughed. "Right."

"What about you?"

"Me? I just chased some renegade ghosts onto Omega Centauri." He stared at Zetta a moment. He and Zetta weren't friends, even by the demonic definition of the word. They'd fought maybe a total of three duels over the past four centuries since Seedle had claimed the throne of hell. Still, Zetta could guess from what he knew of Seedle that the samurai liked to be comfortably aware of all his rivals' weaknesses. Which was probably why he half-smiled heartlessly and commented, "I thought you were going to kill me when I came up. Who did you think I was?"

"None of your business." Zetta considered just lighting off, then reconsidered it. He had a feeling it would be a cowardly retreat.

Seedle laughed brusquely again. "Well, I'll just have to ask my spies, won't I? Now-"

There was a sudden flare of Mana across the cosmos.

Uninhibited by any atmosphere, its white brilliance swarmed outwards, revolving like the arms of a galaxy. As it reached the two Overlords, they heard words in their minds, felt a message placed deep within the light, carrying it to the far corners of the cosmos:

The Lord of Fear is dead. His murderer is Overlord.

The Lord of Fear...That would be Humbaba, one of the most powerful Overlords in the cosmos. Murdered? This was interesting to say the least.

"Heh," Seedle said, breaking the sudden silence. "Who was that?"

Zetta grimaced. "Someone who beat me to it."

Seedle gave him a withering look. "You're the born-demon. Read the Mana signature."

"Oh. Right." The Mana was still radiating across the universe. Zetta extended his right hand, feeling the sorcerous waves with his own Mana. Suddenly he jerked his hand back. Seedle leaned forward. There was a slight burn mark across Zetta's palm.

Seedle frowned. "What the hell?"

Zetta was breathing hard.

"Well?"

Zetta gritted his teeth.

Emotion is weakness.

Emotion is weakness.

You're rid of her, you can be rid of weakness.

He caught his breath. "It's Salome."

Seedle's right hand jerked out suddenly, then stilled. He also went tense, the lines of his collarbones standing stark against his neck as he sucked in his breath.

Zetta clenched his hands to keep them from shaking.

How could she?

"Well." Seedle's voice was a little hoarse. He covered it with sardonic laughter. "I guess you did a good job teaching her, Zetta."

Zetta had a sudden impulse to shut Seedle up with his own katanas. He resisted it.

Why should I care?

She's just another rival now.

Seedle chuckled humorlessly. "Quite a woman, eh Zetta?"

Zetta turned. "Her?"

Seedle was grinning -or snarling. "Don't act like you don't care."

"She's dead to me."

"Right."

Zetta bared his teeth.

"So, what now? Are you just going to let her stay there, cozy in her nest?" His eye darkened. "Or do you want revenge?"

Zetta narrowed his eyes and turned away. "She's Salome the Traitor. She's beneath my notice."

"Hm," was all Seedle said in reply.

Zetta opened his left fist. Blue fire shot out, reducing a nearby planet to a haze of glittering debris.

"Effigy?" Seedle asked.

"Of who?" Zetta demanded.

Seedle crossed his arms. "And Lord Zetta forgot about her after five minutes. Well, I think I'll leave you to your suffering."

Zetta felt he had a sufficient excuse to run Seedle through at this point, but the samurai had already shot away.

Zetta was alone.