But those corporeal things held no interest for him. The need to lose himself in the chaos of battle spurned his greed. So consumed was he with bloodlust that even his own troops were forfeit. Often he would steal in to an officer's tent, ending them with an enemy's blade. Then, he would revel in the bedlam.
It did not take long for the Vassal Lord of that world, Ghalgothal, to take notice. The fiery Balor snatched him away in to the rift, where unimaginable torments twisted Volgathras sanity. His fractured mind fed on the bliss of anarchy, wanting more. Always wanting more.
Volgathras served as Ghalgothal's minion for an eon. The young demon did his time, awaiting the perfect opportunity to strike, when his master was weakest. This opportunity came in the form of a lost treasure, the blade of tempered chaos. It was a weapon made for the sole purpose of spreading disorder. And there was no better way to cause disorder than regime change.
The sentient blade bound itself to Volgathras, finding in the demon a vessel worthy of it's power. When the Balor returned to it's home in the rift, he was waiting. A single stroke, and Ghalgothal was slain.
Volgathras chose for his spoils the very essence of the Balor. He consumed the souls that composed him. But that was not enough. More was always needed. Thus did Volgathras move through the rift, challenging and devouring the most powerful demons he encountered.
Once Malchaeius abandoned Aabahran to it's fate, Volgathras watched from the fiery abyss. He waited as Molokhan took power, waited as the new Demon Lord revealed himself. And then he struck, cutting Molokhan down with his cursed blade. As his latest victim collapsed in to the folds of the Rift, Volgathras took his place upon the throne of chaos.